#it's kind of like... when i feel like i have so little choice in some areas of my diet

[garuda4321]

Don’t worry, I’ve been told I’ll get advanced notice if the world is ending from my buddy in Poland. I’ll make sure to keep you all posted on that. Of course, he also had an interesting thing to tell me, which I will quote because I think a lot of folks need to hear this. However, saving that for a little bit later because I feel like folks could use a bit of a motivational speech (I gave my first one today focused on hope, and boy do we need it).

Here goes.

I want to start by reminding people that it’s ok to feel. Whether that’s anger, sadness, hope, happiness, or whatever else you’re feeling, it is ok to feel them. Emotions should not be suppressed. I work very hard to ensure that I am a part of a community that is not only safe, but somewhere I can call home. I am always willing to invite more people into my home, especially in times of need as feeling safe is something everyone deserves.

I know that when faced with outcomes such as these, it is considerably easier to live with a victory than a loss. This is why this I am speaking about hope, having hope. I understand that not everyone has hope right now. If you do have it, please try to share some of that hope with those that do not have it. If you do not have it, hopefully you can find some in this reblog.

I am fairly certain that everyone has had the experience when something doesn’t go their way. In the realm of Ninja (the obstacle course racing variety), this is rampant. Perhaps we fell on the first obstacle of a course, or perhaps we missed qualifying for finals by mere seconds. When this happens, we have two choices. We can either stay down and let the negativity eat away at us, or we can get back up and keep training and trying until we reach our goal.

Unfortunately, we can only do that during training. On a course, when we fail obstacle one, that’s it, we don’t get a second chance. We don’t have that choice to stay down or get back up as we can’t change the outcome. As depressing as that sounds, it’s true.

You can’t change what happened and you don’t get the choice to “get up and try it again”. But we don’t have to sit and cry, complain, or hide from it either. We don’t have to give up.

Right now, there are lots of us that are down. We have communities that we feel safe and welcome in to support us when we need them. Together, as we refuse to give up, we can do each and every thing to help better our communities. It may not be a large difference, but a difference is a difference, and a difference matters! We can leave a smile, a compliment, or even a positive message behind because if someone is having a rough day, those small actions can make a large difference for them.

I encourage you to try to bridge outside of your comfort zone and meet new people, join new communities and try to spread some positivity in the world. I did so earlier today by giving a very similar speech to this one and again now by posting an abbreviated version of it. Do your best to make a difference with all people, no matter who they are, what they look like, or what they stand for. Because we will overcome whatever is thrown our way together, and by helping those that are struggling to overcome their own obstacles. We will believe and we will have faith. We may not know who or what to believe in, but we all know that we can believe in each other.

To finish us off, that quote from my friend in Poland.

“Remember that life is a long distance race. In a few months, a lot will change. In a few years, whole world will look completely different. Don’t lose your energy and faith in being a good person. World will need good people.”

Choose to be kind, caring, compassionate, and empathetic.

I’m signing off for now, maybe I’ll return with the next one I end up giving.

[magniloquent-raven]

"Oh, good, you are alive." Eddie says as soon as Tommy opens his front door. He pushes his way into the house without waiting for a response, and leaves Tommy blinking at empty space.

"...Sure, come on in," he mutters.

"Would it kill you to answer your phone some time?" Eddie's standing in the living room, hands on his hips, looking at Tommy like he's expecting something.

And Tommy's still lingering in his own doorway, suddenly very aware of how ripe his PJs have gotten. "It's my day off." It's a lame excuse and he knows it. He turns away to shut the door so he won't have to look Eddie in the eye.

"It's been, like, three weeks, man."

Tommy sighs quietly. "Yeah, look, it's just..."

"Is this the part where you tell me you both love me equally and it isn't my fault mommy and daddy are getting divorced." He's being flippant, but there's anger there. Tension in his voice. Tommy's not sure if it's on his own behalf or Evan's. Either would be fair, probably.

No. No, it isn't. It's not fair. He doesn't get to storm in here and judge Tommy's life choices. It's not like he's happy with himself about this, he didn't want to break things off. It just. Didn't work out.

"We don't, Eddie."

"What?"

Tommy folds his arms across his chest. "Love you equally. He needs you more than I do."

"What happened to me being allowed to have more than one friend?"

You know what happened, Tommy wants to snap, wants to be the kind of person who gets so angry he breaks, bleeds the tension out. He wants to untangle the knot that's been tightening in his chest for weeks.

Instead he hunches his shoulders. "Nothing, you have plenty of friends. A whole station of them." Tommy bites the inside of his lip so hard he tastes iron, and his eyes fall shut for a moment while he collects himself. "I was trying to make things easier for you."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "Yeah, nothing easier than getting ghosted. In fact, I love it when people I care about suddenly stop talking to me."

"You know what I meant. You have to take his side."

"Oh, I am. Breaking up with him like that was stupid, and he's really hurt."

Tommy barely contains his wince.

"But you were my friend before you were his boyfriend." Eddie's expression shifts, not quite softening. "I'm not here to defend Buck's honour, I'm here because my friend isn't making good choices and I'm worried about him."

He cried that night three weeks ago. Held off until he'd made it home and then bawled like a child, curled up in the dark and not bothering to wipe the snot from his nose. He hasn't cried since. Not when he found one of Evan's sweaters shoved between the cushions on his couch. Not when a date night reminder he forgot to delete from his phone dinged three days ago. Every time he wakes up to nothing but empty lock-screen he feels a little more hollow thinking about all the texts he used to get in the middle of the night.

But he hasn't been crying about it. Until now.

He's not sure what it is exactly. Something about Eddie refusing to let Tommy stonewall him. Something about all the things he's gone through alone never mattering to anyone. Not enough to warrant more than courtesy comfort.

"Woah, hey, was it something I said?"

Tommy shakes his head, and wipes his cheek with the heel of his hand. "It's been a weird few weeks."

It has, is the thing. He used to be good at being alone. But six months of borrowed time was enough for him to be in a lot deeper than he thought. He doesn't just miss Evan he misses being invited to his family dinners, and hearing about life with the 118.

"How 'bout I drink your beer while you tell me about it."

"...Okay."

[seraph5]

Now that I've listened to Re: Dracula I feel like I've been weirdly spoiled for a lot of other Draculas. Like don't get me wrong there's a lot of Dracula's out there to like but there was something really beguiling about:

a) Mina and Lucy's quite modern musings about their place in the world, the beginnings of wanderings about what they might like or could like as people not just as what society demands

b) Mina and Lucy's relationship. I just adore that they are surprisingly different characters and interact in a very realistic interesting way that you don't see a lot in media that depicts this time period. I also love how intelligent Mina is.

c) The absolute intensity of the bond and duty our heroes find themselves drawn into when put in this horrific situation. It really surprised and struck me the way that all these people with not extremely deep connections in a lot of cases closed ranks together in a silent fight to protect not just themselves but to break the cycle of evil. They, all of them, really showed a tremendous amount of care and kindness towards each other in this insane mission. Obviously it would have been nice if the boys had been less dumb about including Mina in things but their follies in that area were clearly a result of the time they lived in and not a fundamental personal lack of respect for mina.

d) I know everyone does not see this interpretation but I like that there is a quasi-homoeric undertone to Dracula and Johnathan's whole thing. Of course Johnathan is there under duress and I'm certainly not saying that there is something consensual or reciprocal going on but Dracula being so possessive of him especially with the brides gives an interesting undertone to some of the earlier parts of the book. There is a real sort of fascination Dracula seems to have for him as a conduit for information about his next conquest and he really tries to connect with him through the guise of society.

All this I haven't really ever seen all these points illustrated very strongly in other retellings or if it's there it doesn't communicate that feeling that makes these missed points so special. Worse it seems like a lot of the time they make really weird choices like merging characters or swapping characters or cutting characters for brevity or excitement. Which on one hand I kind of understand but when given the space the characters all have their own interesting points and perspectives and are interesting to experience.

I'd love to see a retelling that balanced all these things a little more and cut less. Maybe even have it be a mini series rather than a movie.

[kasagia]

In death's arms

Pairing: Annatar/Sauron x fem!maia! reader Summary: There was nothing Sauron regretted doing. Every nasty thing he did to gain power paid off for him, and given the choice again, he would do it all over again. Or so he thought, until his path was crossed with someone from his past. It turns out that some of his mistakes are destined to haunt him forever. Author's note: A little sth that stuck in my head after watching Agatha All Along... this is pure fiction and probably wouldn't work in Middle-earth, but since I've written it... 😅 I've been completely out of it lately and everything's been going so fast in my life lately, so I'm terribly sorry if I've missed any messages/comments from you! I'm trying to catch up slowly! Anyway, enjoy! Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

“Have you come to torment me again?” He asks, gathering the last of his strength to mock you as you appear before him.

From the nasty grin you give him, instead of being angry at his mockery, he realises how bad a state he is in. Morgoth has just put him through one of his tests. Sauron no longer remembers what he had to do. But he remembers his master's anger when he failed. He remembers clearly every cut he inflicted on him, every wound, every spilt blood that stained his skin and clothes, or at least the shreds that remained of them.

He no longer counted how much of his blood had soaked into his clothes and how much into the stone floor and wall behind him. And the seemingly irritating digging of the bars into his neck and skin stopped bothering him as the metal and his body became one.

"Contrary to appearances, your new master is not willing enough to hand you over to me. Too bad. You'd look pretty in your grave, Mairon. Oh, forgive me. Old habits die hard, Sauron."

He trembles when you speak his true name. The name given to him by the Valar. It sounds both sweet and deadly on your lips. A reminder of what he has lost, of what he could have had, had his lust for power been kept in check, had he never left the forge…

"He needs me. He knows that only I can lead his army to the victory."

"Victory, death. What's the difference, right?" You reply with a smirk that sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

He feels... uneasy around you. It wasn't something he was used to. Your presence always brought him some kind of comfort and peace, but now... now everything was different. He and you had changed. Not necessarily for the better.

"I suppose it makes no difference to you whether you take me in a dungeon or on a battlefield."

"But your honour wouldn't allow you to be beneath me, would it, my sweet deceiver?" You mock him and laugh, which sends a cold, unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Your laughter is so different from the one he remembers. It is bleak and harsh as the blade he once forged for you, and which you now carry at your side.

He remembered loving to bask in the glow of your laughter, in the halls of the Valar, as you feasted and danced, living as carefree a life as could be. Sometimes he longed for those days... to spend another one like this, so that he could engrave it forever in his memory and cling to it to save himself from total corruption and rottenness.

"Why do you keep showing up? You know that you can't get your claws on me."

"I am aware about that. But every moment like this will only sweeten the day when I finally take you in my arms, my dear deceiver. And believe me... you will not escape once I finally get my hands on you. In the end, all paths lead to one person. And it is not Morgoth. It is not any of your Valar. It is not any being that you know. In the end, you will come to me. And you will suffer more than Morgoth ever made you do, my Dark Lord."

You press your lips to his forehead—the place where Morgoth smashed his skull into the wall and split his head. He trembles as your lips press against raw, bleeding skin. You groan, running your tongue over his wound, tasting his black blood. And he cries out as you send waves of pain through him worse than any Morgoth had inflicted on him.

He holds his breath as your other hand lazily caresses the skin of his arm, tracing patterns with your black nails, only to suddenly dig them into the open wounds Morgoth had inflicted on him. Sauron groans in pain, trembling in your arms. You press your lips to his, drinking in his every cry as you caress him with your gentle touch and send waves of pain shooting through every tiny particle of his body.

"I will drink in every one of your sweet screams, my dearest. I will bask in every pain your being feels. Until all you remember, all you know, is me and my blade." You whisper your promise, and as suddenly as you came, you disappeared.

You leave him trembling and crying on the cold stone floor, dirty with his blood. And though he hated the times you came to mock him, he was relieved that you didn't leave him completely alone. Even if you only came to drive the knives Morgoth had placed inside him deeper.

He needed you. As pathetic as it was, he needed those little moments with you to keep him from going completely crazy during his darkest hours and the tests his master put him through.

But he lived with the hope that one day he would be able to repay you with the same sweet torture. That one day he would be the one to listen to your sighs of pain... or cries of pleasure. He wasn't sure yet whether he loved or hated you more—even though you seemed to already have your mind set about your feelings towards him.

Adar has betrayed him. He has betrayed him in the worst possible way. Sauron lies on the floor, surrounded by Orcs who drive the blades of Morgoth's crown into him as their Lord-Father looks on passively.

This couldn't be the end. He couldn't end like this. He couldn't be defeated like Morgoth had been, not by the filthy stinking Orcs and someone he had considered a friend. His master had been right; if they didn't fear you, you were nothing to them. There was no ally so powerful, so loyal, and true as fear. And now he was learning his lesson once again. In the most painful way possible.

He took small, ragged breaths that burned his body every time his lungs tried to expand and draw in air. Blood dripped from almost every inch of his body. And suddenly, in the distance, a few feet from those nasty orcs, he sees you.

You watch his fall with complete calm. You play carelessly with the blade he gave you, waiting for his end, letting the orcs finish their work. He sees no emotion on your face. Ironic, considering that this is probably the best day of your life. He will finally get his punishment from you. There was nothing he could do to escape you... unless...

He gasps especially hard when one of the orcs plunges a blade into his heart. As if through a haze, he sees Adar above him, who, after making sure that his physical body has been completely destroyed, says something to his orcs. Sauron hears only a screech in his ears as his battered heart gives its last beat. And then there is only darkness. Bleak darkness, which is quickly interrupted by a song all too familiar to him.

"Come, come, my lost soul, you will find your peace. Come, come, down your road, straight into my arms."

Sauron remembers the countless nights after Morgoth's torture, when you sang it to him and mocked him, giving him a taste of what you would do when you could finally take him in your arms.

Once it was a simple lullaby. A lullaby you made up for him when he couldn't calm his mind, when he spent too much time in Aulë's forge, too absorbed in his work to see you. Now you were attracting souls who were about to meet their end.

But he is not ready for death yet. He does not want to go like this. Not when he has known no power, not when the sacrifice he made of himself has brought him nothing at all. He does not want to go into your arms, knowing that he has thrown away everything he had with you for nothing.

"Look where your lust has taken you, my darling." You tell him with a smirk, taking your time as you walk towards him.

He kneels, swaying as he tries to keep his balance. He falls on both hands in front of you, taking in shuddering breaths as the black bonds of your magic close around him, crushing him in a tight embrace.

"I thought you loved my embrace? You told me so. Remember? When we lay together in the halls of the Valar, each held tightly, when you swore to me that you would not yield to Morgoth's influence, that what we have was enough, that you would never dream of more than what we have? Tell me, did you plan to betray me even then, or did you forget your promises in time?"

After each of your mockery comes a blow from you. Sometimes it's a simple kick, sometimes a punch delivered from your fist, and sometimes you pierce his body with a dagger, tormenting him even more and twisting him so that the blade grazes every single muscle of his. You were going for your revenge. And nothing was going to stop you.

"Pathetic. You wanted power. You wanted power so great that millions would kneel before you, and now you are on your knees. You were willing to do anything; you gave up everything just to fulfil your dark desires. Tell me, Sauron, was it worth it? Because I am truly happy with this turn of events."

He gasps as you grab him by the neck, forcing his gaze to meet yours. He trembles, staring into your black, dilated pupils. Your face is nothing like the one he remembers. You look like death. You are the real death. He trembles, seeing what the Vaalr did to you after he left and what punishment they gave you for loving a traitor. He looks away, wanting to momentarily ease his guilt and helplessness, but your tightening grip on his neck won't let him.

"You have no idea how long I've dreamed of this. You have no idea how long I've wanted to tear out every last piece of you just to put you back together and present you to the Valar, to give you into their hands so you could suffer as you should. Do you think that what you became was all your fault? That they wanted to punish us for our love? I asked them to make me something you fear, something you must reckon with. I am what everyone sees at the end; I am what takes everyone, even the mightiest of men. I am the end of Morgoth, the end of all evil, all good, the end of everything. I am death." You growl and throw him across the room.

He groans in pain, but he doesn't try to run away from you anymore. He knows that without his physical form, without any power, he won't hide from you. He was in your world, in the thrall of your power. And if he wanted to somehow escape from your grip, he had to play his cards right.

"I never wanted this for you... I never wanted this for us." He gasps, glancing at you. You walk slowly toward him, your black outfit billowing behind you, giving you an ethereal, trash-like look. As much as he fears you, he yearns to have you by his side. But he's not foolish or naive enough to believe you'll ever be on his side again.

"You left me! You left me to rot in the light of the Valar!! You tore my heart, all my humanity, destroyed everything I was, and left me alone. What did you want then, deceiver? What did you want, if not my absolute destruction, so that the vestiges of my past would not torment you in your greedy quest for power?"

He grunts as you drive your sword through his side. He grabs your hand, the one resting on the hilt, and pulls you toward him. You land on the floor with him, and before you can react, he's straddling you, placing the metal against your neck as he leans over you. His blood decorates your skin as his hand cups your cheek. Any attempts to fight him die inside you as his skin touches yours. You freeze for a moment, unused to someone's touch after so long alone, and he takes advantage of it as much as he can.

"I… I've always wanted… I've dreamed of you standing beside me… as my queen. My equal… I… I would never turn my back on you completely." He mumbles, pressing his nose to your temple. You break your dark vision of death for a moment and show him the face he knew so well, the one he had missed for so long that tears came to his eyes. You kick him in the chest and push him away, trying to regain some control. You reach for your neck and wipe away his blood. Without taking your eyes off him, you lick your fingers clean.

"You would trade me for the power Morgoth had at the first opportunity. You have no heart. You never did. And I was too naive to see you for who you really were." With a flick of your wrist, the bonds around him reappear. His wrists and ankles are bound and he is immobilized as he waits for you to make your final move and take his soul from this world forever.

"I have a heart. As black and rotten as yours. And it beats for you. Always has, always will. Even if you seek to destroy me utterly… even if you are left all alone after you have done your duty to the Valar and taken me into your sweet, hellish embrace." He says, only half-feigning contrition for what he had done.

He loved you. If there was one thing he was certain of about his old life, it was that he had loved you deeply. But not enough to become just another servant of the Valar. He wanted more. He had to have more. If he couldn't have you by his side, he would be content to fight with you. Until death do you part.

"If you loved me, you would never leave me." The slight tremor in your voice gives him hope that this meeting will go as he had hoped.

He lifts his gaze to you, studying you as you stand before him. The dagger in your hand is still a painful reminder of what it could cost him if he doesn't say the right words, but for now all he can think about is how wonderfully terrifying you look, standing before him in all your glory and power.

You captivate him. You tempt him. The Valar knew what they were doing when they made you the Lady of Death. You would be his undoing. He knows it. Eventually he will fall, and there will be no turning back. But before he does... he wants to make sure he remains legendary and eternal.

"It was because I loved you that I had to leave you. I didn't want to taint you with my darkness. You were pure. You were the sweetness that I wanted to drink and destroy at the same time for my own pleasure. You would not have had a better fate with me." He tries to defend himself by touching your most sensitive spot. He sees your ardour slowly subside as you begin to really consider his words.

You hesitate. He can see it in your gaze. He can see that the vision of your dream future he's presented to you is starting to tempt you. If he'd pushed you just a little further, if he'd said a few more words, maybe you'd really join his side? Maybe you'd be a force against the world? Maybe if he hadn't left you completely alone, maybe you could have had it all?

You walk up to him and stop a few millimetres away from him. If he takes a deep breath, his chest can gently brush against yours. He wants so badly to drive the blade into you and simultaneously capture your lips in a kiss that it's a confusing feeling in his current situation. You wanted him dead. That's what you came here for. To take him away. And yet you still had your ways of making him want you.

You lean forward, your hair brushing his cheek as your tongue traces the shell of his ear. He shivers as your cold breath contrasts with the warm saliva you spread before you bite down on his skin teasingly.

"I was soaked in it long before you even thought about leaving, my sweet deceiver. Now, I am just darkness." You whisper in his ear. You move away millimetres, far enough to look him in the eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you raise your blade, preparing to deal the final blow and take his soul forever, locking him away in a cell next to Morgoth, most likely.

So in a desperate act of self-savement, or perhaps out of the lust you've awakened in him, or perhaps out of the pure desire to taste your lips one more time before he leaves this world, he leans down and kisses you.

And it surprises you. Sauron hears the dagger fall from your hand to the floor as you reach for his hair, tangling your hands in it. He groans and tugs at the bonds you've trapped him in so he can wrap his arms around you and take you in his arms like he wanted to all along, but you don't let him move an inch. He growls in rage and bites your lip in retaliation, drawing blood—a random action that saves him from his predicament.

With each drop of your blood, he feels the power within him begin to bubble up again. Before you know it, he breaks your bonds and pushes you against the wall behind you. You groan in protest, trying to push him away from you. You try to summon your powers to immobilise him again, but he plunges his blade into your arm, effectively distracting you.

You cry out in pain, cursing his name, but he has only one goal in mind. He tears your clothes and burrows into your skin, biting and caressing every exposed part, feeding on your blood and power, restoring his soul the vitality it needs.

You are a mess of black blood and tears as he feasts on you, outsmarting you and binding you in your own shackles that you used against him.

"You won't take me as easily as you take these mortals." He growls against your skin, drinking your blood as he uses his knife to carve tiny cuts into your skin, decorating it with both black liquid and hickeys, marks from his bites and fingers.

“You’ll pay for this.” You moan as he bites into your neck, leaving a messy, bloody trail. He licks his lips and grabs you roughly by the waist, pulling you closer so you can feel the bulge of his cock against your thigh.

"Then, my sweet death, you will take me as a happy man." He growls in your ear before smashing his lips against yours in another kiss. You don't register the moment he takes your amulet from you.

His kisses numb you to the point where you don't register anything but him. All that matters to you is the way his hands caress your body, the way his lips defile every little inch of you. It feels so good to finally feel someone's touch on you…so good to finally feel HIS touch on you.

"I think that few people have the privilege of saying that they fucked death..." He mumbles in your ear, drunk on the feeling of you beneath him.

And just when he's about to bring you the greatest pleasure, just when he's teased your core long enough that you clench around his fingers desperate for more, he does something far worse than drive your dagger through you. He leaves you completely alone again.

You scream, furious and frustrated, both for having him deceive you and sexually for not giving you the release you deserved. You pound your fists on the ground and scream long and shrilly—enough that he will surely be able to hear you, whatever pathetic form he has taken since breaking out of your realm.

And driven by hot fury, you know only one thing—he will pay for this. Even if you were to seek him out and ignore your duties. You'll get him in your arms.

There was something addictive about the way people were drawn to him.

Ever since Sauron took the form of Annatar, the people of Eregion had flocked to him like moths to a flame, seeking gifts from the great messenger of the Valar. He liked the power he had over them. How one of his (false) words could turn them into his obedient puppets who would do anything to fulfill the prophecy he had foretold.

However, with the number of creatures circling around him, he had increasing difficulty maintaining the illusion he had cast over the city.

This is exactly what has happened now.

Annatar/Sauron was cleaning up the mess he had made by killing one of the elves who had discovered too quickly what was happening beyond the walls of his safe illusion. He could not afford for the whispers of panic to reach the ears of the only blacksmith whose skills were satisfactory.

Lifting the body, he freezes suddenly as a cold shiver runs through him. The atmosphere in the room changes. The only lit torch goes out, the smell of sulfur begins to fill the air, the rats that were roaming the basement disappear, and the only sound in the room is his breathing. He looks around, trying to see through the darkness of the room, but all he can see is red blood on his hands..

He frowns, looking around him as he realises the body he was supposed to get rid of is gone. He walks over to the extinguished torch and relights it, illuminating the room once more. He looks around for the body, but all he sees are the empty corridors of the underground. He frowns and focuses his senses, trying to sense any additional presence or power that would mess with his head.

And then he hears it. A soft humming from down the hall. He automatically reaches to his side, where his sword is strapped to his belt, and slowly walks toward the sound of soft singing.

"Come, come, my lost soul, you will find your peace. Come, come, down your road, straight into my arms." He freezes in mid-step. Goosebumps rise across his body, and he feels his breath quicken.

Memories—unwanted, painful memories—flood his mind as he stands in the empty hallway, wondering if he should go down. Involuntarily, his memories go back to the day he survived one of Morgoth's most demanding trainings—the day he found out what the consequences of his actions brought to you...

"I didn't know you were a coward, Y/N! Are you going to show yourself? Or should I leave you to your work and go back to mine?" He asks cheekily, trying to get you out of your hiding place. He knows how dangerous you've become, and as much as it fascinates him, he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of your blade... or claws. "I bet you're as busy as I am these days." He mumbles, pacing the empty hallways where your humming still echoes.

He glances over his shoulder a few times, wanting to make sure that you won't surprise him with a dagger to his neck.

Sauron won't admit to himself that he's afraid of you; he just knows the threat you pose to him. There was nothing worse than a mad woman—especially an unpredictable woman. And he was foolish enough to get on your bad side, to betray you, and don't look back. But how could he possibly know that you would get punished for his action? How could he predict that you will be paying off his sins to Valar? That only showed how unjust they were. Not only to you, but to him as well.

"Won't you show me your face?" He asks, still searching for the slightest sign that will give away your presence. But your soft singing, the haunting song that makes his heart beat faster, pumping adrenaline through his body, makes it impossible for him to fully devote himself to the task of finding you. Not if he doesn't want to end up with a sword in his chest. "Valar knows how I missed looking at it."

He turns around and, as if on cue, you appear to him. He presses his lips together tightly, refraining from gasping in surprise when he sees you in all your glory. He swallows hard when his gaze falls on your deformed face that you show him. A bloodthirsty smile, full of black fangs, sunken cheeks, and no nose, is one of the less... drastic forms in which you like to show yourself lately. Sauron knows how much you want to scare him; he hopes he doesn't give you too much entertainment.

"I would have a lot less work to do, my sweet deceiver, if you would just give yourself to me as you should and stopped playing Valar. You won't fool me a third time." You warn him, stepping closer. You see his throat tremble as he swallows, and he gently closes his eyes for a moment to inhale your scent and take in a little of your closeness.

You were so damn dangerous, deadly even... and he wanted more. Even though he knew full well that this desire would probably lead him to his grave.

"But wthout me you'd be terribly bored, wouldn't you?" He asks, giving you one of his smirks. He was playing with death, literally. He wondered how many times he could get out of your cruel clutches before he finally ran out of escape routes.

He freezes when you gently place your hand on his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertip. He grits his teeth, staring at you wordlessly as you play with a strand of his blonde hair.

"Where's your elf?" You whisper against his lips, leaning in close enough that it’s a challenge for him to stay away from you. You should be a repulsive threat to him, nothing more than an enemy to be defeated. But for some reason, whether it’s your past, the pull that’s always been between you, or the power that’s bound you together, he can’t feel anything for you but pure lust.

"She left." He says shakily, wondering if you were jealous of him, if you watched him and Galadriel, if you planned her death when he declared that he wanted her to be his queen...

"Too bad... I would gladly take her in my arms. I guess I can only wait then. There is nothing more pleasant than meeting them all at the end of their path. They act as if they were truly immortal. You have no idea how surprised most of them are when they cross my path. Almost as surprised as you were when you first saw me in this form."

"I would appreciate seeing you more often if it weren't related to your current… job position." You chuckle darkly and grab his hand at his words.

You lift it between the two of you and pull out your dagger. You cut his palm, and he can only stand there, dazed, watching as you lick his black blood. You hum, tasting your power as it courses through his veins.

"Oh… but then it would be too boringly easy for you, right?" Your voice is velvety, like a balm to his frayed nerves. He allows himself to cling to you, completely forgetting that he should always be on guard with you. A mistake you won't fail to remind him of. "Tell me, Sauron… have you never heard of such a thing as being utterly charmed by death?"

Before his mind can process the meaning of your words, you have already pierced his hand with a dagger through and through. He groans in pain and tries to rip his hand from your iron grip, but you won't let him. You rip off your amulet that he stole from you, which he hung on a necklace around his neck, and you place it on his wound. You chant the appropriate words and drain him of all the power that he stole from you all those years ago—the power that helped him be reborn again.

"Next time you lay your hands on something that doesn't belong to you, I'll chop them off. I think I can find a much better use for them. A more… satisfying one, if you still know what I mean." You mock him, twisting his wrist.

He growls in pain and shoves you back, sending you crashing into the wall behind you. You raise your blade higher, pressing it against his neck as he steps closer to you. You laugh as you feel him press his own weapon against your chest.

"Well, well, well. I see you've learned something after all. Tell me, my beloved, are you afraid of me?" You whisper hoarsely, licking your lips as you lean into him. You make a move to bite into his neck, but he pulls away from you at the last second, frowning at your amused, dark chuckle.

"Only a fool wouldn't be afraid of you."

"Like calls to like, right?" You pose the question, raising an eyebrow at him. You take advantage of his momentary distraction and push him against the wall. You press yourself against him and capture his lips in a bruising, hungry kiss.

He gasps into your mouth and tangles his hands in your hair, pulling you even closer. Your darkness is addictive. He wants to bask in it, to experience it so deeply that he can become intoxicated by it. He wants to bond with you and experience the same kind of limitless power that you possess. A force that borders on death itself.

As the kiss deepens, he begins to feel you slowly draining his life force. He knows he has to pull away, but not yet. He wants to taste your lips, your sighs, and your soft moans as he caresses you through the material of your night-black dress for as long as he can. But he knows that with each little touch, kiss, and soft moan, he will want more, and it will be harder for him to pull away from you.

That's why he's reluctant to push you away. But when he does, he feels how much you've weakened him with that little kiss. He gasps, laughing thoughtfully as he struggles to even out his heartbeat and his breaths. Now he understands all that talk about deadly kisses. But if he had to choose how he died, your lips were a very tempting option.

"Enjoy the time you have left. We both know that eventually you too will find me at the end of your road. On the way… try not to bother me too much with all the dead bodies and souls you've forced me to take care of." You wink at him and blow him a kiss before disappearing, returning to the other side where the soul of the mortal he killed was waiting for you.

Sauron is surprised that you let him go so easily after his last... antics. But he knows that you didn't leave him alive out of the kindness of your heart. You enjoyed the cat and mouse game between you; you enjoyed tormenting him with the idea that you could take his soul at any moment. So he had to think of a way to make it harder for you.

He returns to the forge and absently strokes the box with the 7 rings for the dwarves. If he had divided his soul… left fragments of it in each of them, it would be impossible for you to gather them all and drag him to the world of the dead, where you could torment him as you pleased…

Or perhaps, in time, he would find a way to tame death itself and submit it to his will?

One thing was sure. At the right time, you will come for him. And you will take away everything he has worked so hard for.

Just like you always do.

He had a few centuries to figure out how to cheat death again. And how to make sure that you will be the one to fall into the trap of his arms. Not the other way around.

[britcision]

I do also agree with OP, although I am gonna throw in a little reframing

TTRPGs and RPGs in general are games; they work based on chance and mechanics which tend not to change based on what would be narratively convenient, because the game doesn’t know what would be narratively convenient

(Notable exception: Abnimals, Travis McElroy’s game which explicitly includes a pool of My Time To Shine dice, which players can add to rolls they think are narratively important.

The dice still don’t care and will still dish you up all failures, but you do get to juice to improve your odds)

And what this means from a narrative perspective is that all the players and the GM need to be ready for big moments to go wrong. For the vital roll to fail, for the wrong character to get the last hit on a BBEG, for a dramatic and impassioned speech to fall flat

And that’s especially a challenge in a short campaign or series of oneshots, where you can’t necessarily just extend and expand the story until the Grand Finale is actually just a Big Character Moment

But it is still a big character moment

As the McElroy’s say… a failure is more interesting than a success

A failure adds free depth, free angst if you’re lucky!

Because… is anyone actually upset and unsatisfied if the story goes too well? If you succeed in a place where a failure might have been more exciting and dramatic?

The key is the kind of story the players (especially western players) are expecting to tell, and will find satisfying… because again, these are games

We go into them expecting or at least intending to win

This means various things for different games, you don’t play Call of Cthulhu for a happy feel good ending where everyone rolls off into the sunset, but you still want to win

It’s a lot more likely for people to feel it was a narratively satisfying story once they’ve gotten the end they wanted, even if some areas fell flat

And trust me, it’s something my players very much also struggle with; it feels bad when we fail something we wanted to succeed on. It feels worse if we built it up to be a big narrative moment… and it doesn’t work

But that is still a big narrative moment

If you’re going to play a game, where chance and mechanics decide the fate of all your dramatic moments, you need to be prepared to tell at least two stories:

- One where it all goes well

- One where it fails

(Maybe one more for a natural 20 equivalent and the stars quake at your passing)

It is hard to lean into failure, but when we do it… what would have been an unsatisfying ending is now just another twist. Free depth and character development, something to wallow in

And we know that those types of stories, even ones where everything goes wrong and the heroes lose, can be so very satisfying

Just look at the prevalence of whump and hurt-no-comfort on AO3

It’s normal and expected to feel bad and dissatisfied when the story doesn’t go the way you wanted it to, but it is your choice to leave that story as something unsatisfying and feeling bad about it

Every unexpected failure is another microwave to toss your blorbo in

Every moment that falls even a little flat is an opportunity for a genre-savvy quip, for a “well that just happened”, for someone to fall to their knees and scream and re-amp the tension

The key is in the player’s flexibility, not the game’s

Even if you are doing a short campaign… you can imply the rest. Let the story not be over, even if your time playing it is.

Let the beaten heroes be ground underfoot, crawl away from the dungeon, have to work and suffer but grit their teeth and know… so long as they’re alive, they can try again

They can have their revenge

(And then you can run the campaign again later, maybe with the same characters a level or two higher than you started last time, and thrive on the new dark and bitter story)

Or let your past characters be an inspiration, either for friends and loved ones who come to avenge them, or to the new heroes who heard their story and heard they failed, but that’s no reason not to try

Prev is also so right about a lot of modern dnd basically expecting the DM to tell a mildly interactive story live to passive players; it’s definitely one a lot of my players came in with, and it’s part of the problem

To tell a narratively satisfying story, you cannot just passively go along and expect the dice rolls to conform to your narrative

You need to actively engage, embrace the rolls as crossroads in the path of destiny, and be prepared to build the narrative no matter which path you take

You don’t go in expecting the right results at the right time to make a satisfying story; you go in knowing where the key moments will be, and what will happen if you succeed or fail

I have told my players several times, and I’ll tell y’all until I die:

I as the DM am not telling the story

I the DM have made the world, the NPCs, the background and setting of events

You the players are telling the stories of your characters, in that setting

There is an overarching plot that the party as a whole will also be telling the story of together… but not only are the players the ones who pick the theme music, you’re the ones who chose the main characters

There’s a reason a prefab campaign will be different for every group that plays it, even with the same GM

Even if you have no idea what’s coming next in the main storyline, you need to know what is coming next for your character

How you want them to grow, what you want them to learn - and then any unfortunate rolls aren’t a let down or a problem, it’s an opportunity.

Sakura has to learn something important about herself and others before she can ever collect a card - which means something usually goes wrong

She tries and fails, and then looks at that failure and learns from it and grows as a person, and that’s what makes the narrative satisfying

Sticking your feet in and sulking if the game mechanics don’t follow the narrative you want will make an unsatisfying story no matter what game you play

Gleefully and enthusiastically stuffing your blorbo into the blender of fate, hitting Purée, and turning every stumble off the narrative path into its own adventure will give you a much deeper, more compelling, more complete story than you might have expected…

But that’s the fun part

The truest mechanism of an RPG or TTRPG has nothing to do what is written into the rules of the game

It’s your own skill at improv, and if you’ve ever been even remotely stage shy, avoided drama class, or thought improv was hard, let me reassure you:

Improv comedy is not the only improv. You don’t have to be funny

And it’s a lot easier than you might think

So long as you know your character, actually really know them beyond the backstory you created… so long as you take the time to think “well what do they do when things go wrong? What would they give to get what they want? What would it take to force them to do the things they’d never do?”

You can bullshit through basically any situation

Because there’s no rule against playing ahead in your mind

Daydream your character into any situation you think might come up, write the fanfiction version of the perfect narrative in your head, and then do the tragic version. Do the slapstick version. The gritty noire version

Because the greatest secret of improv and playing your own character is that you will never be wrong

Only you define success or failure

So long as you know and understand your characters and can be flexible with the mechanics and the story, you can always build a satisfying narrative

This is a lot more work than just being reactive and expecting the GM to tell a story for you, and just rolling dice and “hit big monster” when prompted

That’s what makes the story actually satisfying though; taking ownership of it yourself

The game belongs to the designers

The story belongs to the players, GM and PC alike

There's this idea floating around the general TTRPG space that's kind of hard to put one's finger on which I think is best articulated as "the purpose of an RPG is to produce a conventionally shaped satisfying narrative," and in this context I mean RPG as not just the game as it exists in the book but the act of play itself.

And this isn't exactly a new thing: since time immemorial people have tried to force TTRPGs to produce traditional narratives for them, often to be disappointed. I also feel this was behind a lot of the discussion that emerged from the Forge and that informed the first "narrativist" RPGs (I'm only using the word here as a shorthand: I don't think the GNS taxonomy is very useful as more than a shibboleth): that at least for some TTRPGs the creation of a story was the primary goal (heck, some of them even called themselves Storytelling games), but since those games when played as written actually ended up resisting narrative convention they were on some level dysfunctional for that purpose.

There's some truth to this but also a lot of nuance: when you get down to the roots of the hobby, the purpose of a game of D&D wasn't the production of a narrative. It was to imagine a guy and put that guy in situations, as primarily a game that challenged the player. The production of a narrative was secondary and entirely emergent.

But in the eighties you basically get the first generation of players without the background from wargames, whose impressions of RPGs aren't colored by the assumption that "it's kind of like a wargame but you only control one guy." And you start getting lots of RPGs, some of which specifically try to model specific types of stories. But because the medium is still new the tools used to achieve those stories are sometimes inelegant (even though people see the potential for telling lots of stories using the medium, they are still largely letting their designs be informed by the "wargame where you only control one guy" types of game) and players and designers alike start to realize that these systems need a bit of help to nudge the games in the direction of a satisfying narrative. Games start having lots of advice not only from the point of view of the administrative point of view of refereeing a game, but also from the point of view of treating the GM as a storyteller whose purpose is to sometimes give the rules a bit of a nudge to make the story go a certain way. What you ultimately get is Vampire: the Masquerade, which while a paradigm shift for its time is still ultimately a D&D ass game that wants to be used for the sake of telling a conventional narrative, so you get a lot of explicit advice to ignore the systems when they don't produce a satisfying story.

Anyway, the point is that in some games the production of a satisfying narrative isn't a primary design goal even when the game itself tries to portray itself as such.

But what you also get is this idea that since the production of a satisfying narrative is seen as the goal of these games (even though it isn't necessarily so), if a game (as in the act of play) doesn't produce a satisfying narrative, then the game itself must be somehow dysfunctional.

A lot of people are willing to blame this on players: the GM isn't doing enough work, a good GM can tell a good story with any system, your players aren't engaging with the game properly, your players are bad if they don't see the point in telling a greater story. When the real culprit might actually be the game system itself, or rather a misalignment between the group's desired fiction and the type of fiction that the game produces. And when players end up misidentifying what is actually an issue their group has with the system as a player issue, you end up with unhappy players fighting against the type of narrative the game itself wants to tell.

I don't think an RPG is dysfunctional even if it doesn't produce a conventionally shaped, satisfying narrative, because while I do think the act of play inevitably ends up creating an emergent narrative, that emergent narrative conforming to conventions of storytelling isn't always the primary goal of play. Conversely, a game whose systems have been built to facilitate the production of a narrative that conforms to conventions of storytelling or emulates some genre well is also hella good. But regardless, there's a lot to be said for playing games the way the games themselves present themselves as.

Your traditional challenge-based dungeon game might not produce a conventionally satisfying narrative and that's okay and it's not your or any of your players' fault. The production of a conventionally satisfying narrative as an emergent function of play was never a design goal when that challenge-based dungeon game was being made.

[moni-logues]

Reciprocity

Pairing: Yoongi x afab reader (Kintsugi couple) feat. A Fine Line Couple

Genre: established relationship

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: A couples' holiday with Suri and Namjoon highlights a particular problem between you and Yoongi.

Content: one reference to self-harm (cutting) but discussion of scars, oral sex (f. receiving), discussions of sex life stuff?, i guess some poor communication, overheard sex

A/N: yes, it's me once again with my favourite characters no apologies. i have been thinking about this since maybe even before i finished the series??? and i'm glad to have it finally out of my head. this is unedited and unbeta'd, written by me in the course of this one single day and well, here we are. This is set in the summer, somewhere a few months after the ending of the series.

* * *

“It’ll be fun!” 

Yoongi just nodded and continued carefully folding clothes and packing them in a bag.  

“You don’t want to come,” you continued, heart sinking a little. 

“Of course I do.” 

“Tell your face.” 

He smiled then but didn’t want you to see it, turned around to fetch underwear from a drawer. When he turned back, his face was schooled into something a little more neutral, polite. 

“I’m not saying it’s my first choice of holiday,” he explained, “but I want to go.” 

“Good, because you’re coming whether you like it or not!” 

You hopped off the bed, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then moved into the kitchen to prepare snacks for the road. At the advice of your therapist, you were taking Yoongi at his word: if he said he wanted to come, you would believe him and it was not your responsibility if he was lying. Even though it felt like it was.  

A week in the sun had been your initial suggestion. Somewhere where the heat wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. Clear blue skies and cool water. Peace. Unbridled joy where the real world couldn’t touch you. Even you weren’t entirely sure when it turned into a couples’ holiday, but it was an idea that neither Suri nor Yoongi would ever come up with, and you weren’t sure about Namjoon so it must have been yours. Sounded like the sort of thing you would say. Yoongi had said yes and let you do the research, find somewhere not too far away, easy to get to but far enough to feel new, to feel fresh.  

He had been fairly tight-lipped about it since then. Got a little quiet when you brought it up, when you showed him tourism websites with activities laid out. He insisted he wanted to come but never quite managed to muster up the level of enthusiasm you’d hoped for. In a way, that was just Yoongi being Yoongi, but there was anxiety in you, too, and it was making you sensitive. You could see everyone hating the idea, hating the trip, having the worst time. The awkward silences, arguments about what to do or who should clean what. Namjoon had joked that he would have to force Suri to come and he had said it with a laugh but you knew it was true.  

You turned your head and looked out of the car window at the increasingly green scenes around you and bit your lip. It felt incongruous somehow to not be happy and peaceful when the environment was so lush and bright with life. With ease. With a natural kind of solidity that had stood for hundreds or thousands of years and was still standing. You felt small and silly to be worried about this but it didn’t stop you worrying. Yoongi’s hand found yours and, like it always did, made a warmth start in your heart. You closed your eyes for a second of intense gratitude and then turned to him. 

“It’ll be fun,” he said.  

And it sounded like he meant it. 

* 

You and Yoongi arrived first, took the back bedroom overlooking the lake at Yoongi’s insistence because it was the better view. You had stopped on the way for groceries and you stocked the fridge, took out food to cook for dinner, since it would be about that time when Namjoon and Suri arrived.  

The cabin was wooden and new, so new it still smelt literally pine-fresh. The sun was just starting to dip, dripping golden light over everything, spreading a thousand tiny diamonds on the surface of the lake. It couldn’t have been more picturesque. It made you want to send a postcard for the first time since you were a child.  You settled for texting photos to Taehyung who told you to stop messaging him. Your ripples of anxiety were peaking, anticipating Namjoon and Suri’s arrival and what sort of dynamic it would bring, how it might disturb the peace of this place.  

Yoongi tore you from the window and asked you to start peeling vegetables. You were glad of the task. 

“-t I don’t want to be here, it’s just going to be weird.” 

Suri’s voice came from the hallway and you froze. So did Yoongi. 

“I don’t know why you keep saying that-” Namjoon - “it’s not as if we’ve never spent time with them. You like them.” 

Suri’s hum in response sounded unconvinced.  

You heard the kicking off of shoes, could follow their footsteps into the living room, around the corner from the kitchen where the two of you were hidden. Yoongi put down his knife and moved to go, intercept them before they said something you didn’t want to hear, but you put a hand out to stop him. Your stomach was sick but you had to hear it. Whatever it might be.  

“She’s jus-” 

And they rounded the corner into the kitchen, stopped in their tracks when they saw you. 

“Hey!” Namjoon was the first to recover. “We didn’t know you guys had arrived already! Where have you parked?” 

“’Round the back,” Yoongi answered. 

He was looking at Suri and you were looking anywhere but. Face burning with shame—that this was your idea, that it was all your fault, that you should’ve made you presence known earlier, that no one except you wanted to do this—you swallowed and smiled as brightly as you could. 

“You made it!”  

Your cheer sounded forced to you; maybe Namjoon and Suri wouldn’t hear it. Maybe they would believe you. 

“Public transport is a fucking nightmare,” Suri said with feeling.  

“I told you we could’ve rented a car,” Namjoon replied as if they had had this argument already. 

“I’m not driving in these hills! You should do it. Right?” 

You flinched when she turned to you and realised you had to answer. 

“Uh-” 

“Yoongi drove, right? Literally what are men good for if not chauffeuring you around?” 

It was a lifeline for her, really, but you took it readily, gladly, anything to drive over the awkwardness and shame you were feeling. 

“She has a point, Joon,” you said, grinning at him. “You could at least get a licence.”  

Namjoon rolled his eyes indulgently, let you and Suri rib him a little more, smoothing things over at his own expense. You were deeply grateful.  

“Come and help us do dinner,” you said, ferreting out more chopping boards from the cupboard, handing over knives and ingredients.  

It would be fine, you told yourself as you diligently and with great focus, chopped an onion. It would be fine. It would not be weird. It would be fine. It would be fine.  

* 

It was fine. Dinner was cooked and eaten and cleaned up after. Drinks were taken on to the back porch, overlooking the lake, the heat lingering long into the darkness. It was not dissimilar to the other dinners you had had as a foursome. As long as you could forget what Suri might have been about to say, you were sure you could have a good time.  

* 

You woke the next morning, sun streaming sharply through a gap in the curtains. You rolled over, tucked yourself into Yoongi’s side even though you were already hot and sticky. You were willing yourself to fall back to sleep, even if just for a few minutes, and then you were sitting, eyes wide, ears trained.  

There was no mistaking the sound of other people having sex. You grimaced, settled back down in bed and pulled the covers over your head. 

“What?” Yoongi mumbled, not so much a word as a sound. 

“Can’t you hear them?” you asked in a stage whisper. 

Another grunt from Yoongi. Then you felt his body tense, followed by a sigh and a sleepy chuckle. 

“You’re the one who wanted to come on holiday with another couple.” 

You whined, prodded him sharply in the chest. 

“Not because I was anticipating this! Do they have to be so loud?” 

“This place is not exactly well sound-proofed.” 

“I so don’t want to hear this.” 

“Go back to sleep,” Yoongi said and he sounded like he was already halfway there himself.  

“I don’t know how you can sleep now that you can hear that.” 

Merely a hum in response. 

You lay for a few minutes, desperately trying not to hear the only noise in the house, and then you gave up. Threw back the covers and went into the bathroom to shower. The rush of the shower might not exactly cover it but it would give you something to do.  

* 

“Hey,” Yoongi greeted the other couple when they came out to join the two of you on the back porch, where you were sitting with coffee and fruit. “Just a quick request: could you please have louder sex? I’ve been getting a little too much sleep recently.” 

You and Suri both froze and you saw the blood swarm in her cheeks, red and hot. Namjoon just laughed.  

“I’ll see what we can do.” 

Suri swatted him harshly on the arm and he barely noticed, slung said arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissed her on the top of her head. If he felt embarrassed or awkward about it, it wasn’t showing. What was it like to be so self-assured, confident, relaxed about everything? Even with Suri’s face still pink, her mouth pulled into a scowl, furiously glowering at her boyfriend, he looked easy, his smile gentle and eyes bright. You envied him. You still felt silly and embarrassed about the previous evening, and embarrassed about hearing them have sex; he didn’t seem embarrassed at all to be heard.  

* 

Yoongi had insisted on washing up after breakfast. Didn’t let anyone else so much as carry a bowl back to the kitchen. He was taking his time on it, deliberately, carefully, putting off what he knew could not be avoided.  

He was rarely unaware of his own body. Vigilant at all times about its exposure. He had suffered years of summers under long sleeves and trousers, would suffer higher temperatures, more humidity if he had to. He regretted everything he had done to himself, but not in a way that prevented him doing it again. No amount of shame or embarrassment would stop him, it seemed. Not that it happened much these days, but the possibility was always there.  

Even when he was with you, he couldn’t let go. Even though you were sweet and kind and loving. Even though he knew there was a part of you that understood. Even though he could kiss your thighs where you had cut them and love you so much that it hurt, love your skin, love your scars (hate that you had them). Even though you kissed him, all over, generous and unsparing, even though you said you loved him, all the parts, every bit of him. He knew what he was and he found that breaking the habit of hiding himself was harder than the hiding had been in the first place. 

With his task finished, and all the others he had made up for himself (cleaning counters, fluffing cushions, clearing the dryer of lint even though they hadn’t used it), he had come to the point he could no longer avoid. He moved slowly up the stairs, towards the bedroom you and he were sharing; he stopped halfway up. He could see you through the door, left ajar.  

Your bikini was floral, cutesy, every bit you. The smile formed on his mouth before he had registered the sight. Then it was wiped away because he saw your face: your worried eyebrows, lip caught between your teeth. Your fingers ran over the scars on your thighs; your face turned towards the window, from which point Yoongi knew you could see Namjoon and Suri, already out, lounging. He could see cogs turning in your head, first this way then that.  

And then it wasn’t just the scars. You fussed with the top, fussed with the bottom, turned in the mirror to check yourself from the side, twisted your head around to catch yourself from the back. You ran a hand over your face. You picked up a slip of fabric—some kind of cover-up, a dress?—and held it up against yourself. 

He knew he shouldn’t be spying like this. He wanted to leap the remaining stairs and take you into bed where he would show you exactly what he thought of your body: your perfect, desirable, soft, body that he loved and loved to love. He wanted, briefly, to throw Suri in the lake and hope there were eels because he knew you were still thinking about it: last night.  

He knew that it didn’t matter much what he did because it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t as easy as being told you were fine. He knew because you told him all the time but he still felt like there was something wrong with him.  

He carried on up the stairs and knocked on the door as he entered. Your face was immediately bright, free from clouds, as clear as the sky outside.  

“Coming outside?” you asked as he moved in closer, couldn’t stop himself kissing you just once, putting all his love into it, however brief, however small. 

“Yeah, just coming. You go ahead.” 

You nodded and skipped out and there was a deep tug in his chest. There was a pit of snakes in his stomach but, fuck it, he’d been bitten before. Everyone out there beside the lake knew him, knew what he was if not in full, lurid detail. He took a deep breath and fished around in the bottom of his bag for the pair of swimming shorts he had bought in a moment of madness and packed because he wanted to make the effort for you. He hadn’t expected to wear them—they were still fully tagged and pristine, ready for refunding—but here he was.  

He hadn’t anticipated the difficulty. He sat for ten minutes at the dining table in the kitchen, willing himself to get up and go outside. His legs weren’t all that bad, not the lower half. No one would care. You’d seen them before anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. He was telling himself all the right things but he couldn’t make himself move because he was thinking about all the people who’d seen him in his grossest state. Thought of the things some of them had said. Thought about their reactions. Thought about yours. Tried to focus on that. Reminded himself that it was you out there and his best friend. Suri was still a question mark but he also thought that she could go fuck herself if she had a problem with it because he was still prepared to fight her for potentially upsetting you. 

“I don’t know. I’ll go and see where he is.” 

Your voice floated over to him and that was it, the alarm call, the deadline reached. He stood from the chair and made himself move with he didn’t know what power.  

“Hey!” you cried, arms outstretched to welcome him as he approached the group. “I was just coming to look for you—thought you might have got lost.” 

He smiled, let you kiss him on the cheek, direct him into a sun lounger, sit down with him on it, not quite in his lap but almost.  

Suri raised a hand in way of a greeting; she was flat on her back, sunglasses on, straps of her bikini tucked away, her tiny body sizzling in the sun. Namjoon sat next to her, under the shade of a parasol, dug out of the cabin’s garage, book in hand. He nodded at Yoongi and kept reading. 

“I’m going to go in the lake,” you said, one hand resting on his calf. “Do you want to come?” 

He was putting all his energy into not looking where you were touching him, not noticing, pretending that this wasn’t the first time for he couldn’t remember how many years that he’d not been fully covered in front of people. He wasn’t sure what his face said, if his mouth said anything at all, but you were standing and holding out your hands for him so he must have said yes, let you lead him to the edge of the water and then jump in.  

The water was colder than he’d expected. He gasped and swallowed a lungful, came up spluttering. He wiped the water from his face and pushed his hair back. He blinked the water from his eyes and each frame brought you closer, until your arms were around his neck and your lips on his.  

“I love you, you know that?” 

He nodded. 

“I love you, too.” 

“I know.” 

Did you? Did you really know the full depth and breadth of it? The way he loved you was desperate and whole. He had loved desperately before, loved anxiously, a long time ago when he still thought it was possible he could be loved. There were times when it terrified him. You terrified him because you loved him and it was impossible. Panic seized him and he wanted to run, run anywhere, get as far away as possible until you and your enormous heart were nowhere to be seen. Then you would call him or you would touch him and the panic disappeared, a low-grade anxiety in its place.  

He hadn’t realised he had given up on it. Before you let him kiss you, before you kissed him back and said things he never believed he would hear, he had retired the idea of being loved. It wasn’t for everyone and it wasn’t for him. He took what he could get and accepted that his lot in life was nothing more. But he met you and it hit him square in the face: that he’d stopped expecting joy. That he was fine because he never expected what he deeply and desperately wanted: to be loved. 

And that’s why you were terrifying. Because he was getting used to you. Getting used to being wanted. Getting used to the idea that he could be wanted. Sometimes he thought he was expecting it. Expecting you to let him in your arms, in your life. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t owed anything, didn’t deserve anything. It was the other way around: he was in debt for everything he had been given by you, for being given you at all. 

* 

They say if you can’t beat them, join them. It was an expression Yoongi was apparently taking very seriously, as he slid his tongue down your torso, fingers already slipping through your lips, sinking deep into your soft, wet hole.  

You were less keen to join Namjoon and Suri in being overheard so you pressed a pillow to your face and moaned into it, still louder than you’d wanted to be. You bit down hard on your lip as your back arched from the bed. Every time, it was an aria performed like a concerto, Yoongi doing the work of a full orchestra suite at once. It was lethal and moving the ease with which he played you and it was somehow never the same twice. Never had anyone spent as much time with his face between your legs and it showed: he had learnt, with apparent ease, seemingly everything about what got you off: had learnt how to do it in a rush, how to take his time, how to make you squirt (a surprise more to you than him), how to edge you until you wanted to die, how to make you come and somehow keep coming. He had, on one unfortunately memorable occasion, given you a charley horse and a third orgasm simultaneously.  

You were approaching your second now, with sweat seeping into the bedsheets, and Yoongi’s tongue laving at your clit, his fingers rocking inside you. It was suffocating with the pillow smothering you, your hot breath making it damp, your breathing thick and swampy so it made you light-headed. You couldn’t have kept any quieter even if you’d be able to try; all your attention and energy fell on the mouth at the apex of your legs and the fingers inside you. An experience so in-body, it almost pushed you all the way out again, like your consciousness was hovering outside your skin, alert and alive, an electrical wire in a puddle of water.  

You came hard and gasped for breath when you pulled the pillow from your face. Yoongi kissed his way back up to you, sticky marks all over your sweat-wet skin. He was damp, too, tiny curls of hair stuck to his forehead, the T-shirt he slept in stuck to his back. You peeled it back, ran your hands over him, were reaching for the waistband of his boxers when he pulled away.  

“I’ll wash up and then make breakfast, sound good?” he asked, climbing out of bed and reaching for trousers. 

The words died in your mouth. You could see that he was hard, see the discomfort in the way he adjusted himself as he dressed; you wished you could see into his brain. It wasn’t the first time, not even the second or third and you didn’t want to have the same conversation again, with another couple in the house, with company. Knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere if you did. Knew he would not fuck you nor would he give you a real reason why not. You rolled onto your side, away from the door and pulled the covers around you, despite the heat, despite the sweat. You lay and you stewed and you wondered just what exactly you were doing wrong. 

* 

You tried to forget about it and it had been easy until you glanced over to see Namjoon swat Suri’s backside with his book, saw her retaliate by squirting water on him from her bottle, saw him pull her down in a tumble that was entirely playful until she kissed him. You turned away because you’d already heard enough, you didn’t need to see their foreplay.  

* 

“Did you guys buy ice-cream?” Suri asked later that evening. 

“No,” you answered. “Do you want some?” 

Suri nodded. 

“Yeah, there’s a shop down the road; I’ll go and get some. Anyone else want any?” 

“I’ll come, too!” 

Suri looked surprised, her mouth open (to put you off), then she shut it and shrugged. 

“Ok.” 

It was quiet, initially, just the soft rush of wind in the tops of the trees and the slight crunch of the gravel track under your feet. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

The rhythm of Suri’s feet faltered and then started smoothly again. Her answer was slow to arrive. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Embarrassment was worming through you, on its way to stifle you, to choke you so the words wouldn’t come out. 

“You and Namjoon have good sex, right?” 

Suri didn’t just falter but stopped completely. She looked at you guardedly, suspicious. You could feel her attempting to put distance between you, even as her feet kept still. 

“Is that... ar-, we’re trying to be quiet,” she answered eventually. 

You laughed not because it was funny but because you were nervous. 

“No, it’s not about that. It's... I mean, you do, right?” 

“Yes.” 

You were stuttering over your next question, not having planned this conversation, not really knowing what you wanted out of it. 

“Don’t you and Yoongi?” Suri asked, beating you to it. 

“We do. Kind of. Yes, but also...” 

Your face was flaming, hot pricks of sweat beading in your scalp at the embarrassment of this, at having to ask someone about your sex life—someone that wasn’t Taehyung anyway—someone who definitely did not want to be having this conversation either. 

“The thing is,” you persevered, “he goes down on me, like a lot. Or not a lot but sometimes, well, often, he...”  

Your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides. 

“He goes down on me and then we don’t have sex and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or why he doesn’t want to fuck me.” 

You let it out in a rush, looking somewhere over Suri’s left shoulder because you couldn’t bear to look at her directly, to see her face reacting. She was quiet for a moment or two and you stewed, boiling in your self-consciousness, steaming with shame.  

“Have you asked him?” 

“Yes, of course! He just says he doesn’t want to or ‘it’s ok’ or that I don’t have to reciprocate or that he’s fine. But I'm not fine! I’m clearly shit at sex! And blowjobs because he doesn’t want those either!” 

And it was the embarrassment, mostly, but you felt tears burn in your eyes, felt your bottom lip wobble and as much as you did not want to have this conversation, you certainly didn’t want to cry during it. 

“Does Namjoon ever...” and you couldn’t finish the question because you knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it. 

“Nah, if he’s even the slightest bit turned on, he’s doing something about it. Well, I'm doing something about it, you know what I mean.” 

You cursed softly, tried to kick at the gravel in your flipflops.  

“I just wish he would tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can fix it.” 

Your embarrassment, bright enough to have burnt away now, had left you sad, miserable in fact, that you couldn’t please your boyfriend and he was being too nice to tell you so. Sad because you couldn’t give him what you wanted to, what he gave you. Miserable that you were failing where you wanted to succeed. 

“Do you ask him directly at the time?” 

“Huh?” 

“I mean, look, I’m the last person who should be giving anyone relationship advice of any kind, ok? I really don’t know how to do anything but are you asking him why he doesn’t want to have sex right now, or have you talked about it at a completely unsexy time? Because Namjoon is barely sapient when his dick is hard; his brain is entirely in his crotch.  

“Literally the only thing I have learnt over the last year is that, as horrible as it is, you have to talk about stuff, especially when you don’t want to talk about it. So maybe just talk to him again but- oh, I don’t know! I’m not good at this. But if he’s not given you a proper answer, make him give you one. You should at least know what the problem is, if there even is one, right?” 

You thought about it. Thought about how quickly you let the subject drop, let Yoongi brush you off because you didn’t really want to have the conversation at all, didn’t want to know the answer—or rather you didn’t want to hear Yoongi say it.  

You nodded, thanked her quietly for her help and you walked the rest of the way to the shop in silence. You picked an ice-cream at random and a random one for Yoongi, too, then you walked back. Suri tried to make conversation with you and you were grateful for it, for her. You didn’t know if she liked you, found her impossible to read, and often got the impression that she’d rather be anywhere else, but she was making an effort and it meant something to you. 

* 

“Can I ask you something?” you started timidly as you settled in bed that night. 

“Yeah.” 

You were quiet for a moment and Yoongi frowned, trying to work out what had upset you. You had been quieter than usual all evening and he wondered if Suri had said something to you; you had come back from the shop with two melona ice-creams, which you hated.  

“Am I bad in bed?”  

He blanched. Didn’t really understand the question because you weren't. Not in the slightest. The sex he had with you was as close to perfect as sex could be. He sometimes felt deranged in how much he wanted you, felt dirty for it even, like it somehow besmirched your honour for him to think about you when he touched himself. Like he would contaminate you with his need to have you. It often took all he had in him not to fuck you. 

“What do you mean?” 

Your mouth was pouty and your eyebrows drawn close. You didn’t look angry for which he was grateful, but you were sad and frustrated for which he was not. 

“You go down on me all the time and then we don’t have sex after! You don’t let me reciprocate! I can’t do it better if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong in the first place!” 

It was like static was fuzzing up his brain. He knew the words but couldn’t understand them coming out of your mouth. He had thought he was doing the right thing. Giving not taking. Or taking only sometimes, but keeping the balance firmly tipped towards you. You always offered because of course you did: you were wonderful and kind and, for reasons he could rarely fathom, you cared about him.  

“Yoongi!” 

In a tone he almost never heard, genuinely annoyed, if also pleading and anxious.  

He blinked, tried to find an answer. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Of course you do! It happened this morning! It happens at least half the time! I don’t understand why you don’t want it.” 

And his heart was suddenly hammering because he could see that he had got it wrong but he wasn’t quite sure how. Colour drained from his face because you were upset, really, genuinely upset and it was his fault and if he could have squashed himself like a bug under his own shoe, he would have.  

He tried to see what he had not seen, what he had missed, what maybe he had ignored. Could only see instead the times before, with other partners, when he’d try to initiate and be rebuffed, when he never asked for anything because he knew he wouldn’t get it anyway and, besides, it was ugly to ask, to want, to demand for something someone else didn’t want to give. He had spent so much time and effort learning his partners’ bodies, trying to make up for everything he lacked. He knew he was good at it. Knew it, was sure of it. Wasn’t he? Was it not enough? Was he still missing something? 

“I do,” he said, voice hushed as though it hurt to say. “I do want it.” 

“Then why do you always brush me off?” 

He felt stripped like old paint. Had to look at you, though the embarrassment was excruciating. 

“I didn’t think you really wanted it.” 

And it sounded stupid when he said it out loud, really stupid, but it was the truth. 

“What?!” 

You really needed to hear him say it again. That he didn’t think you wanted it, even though you had explicitly asked. Even though you had sometimes tried, feebly, to insist.  

“I...” 

But he didn’t say it again, looked as though he couldn’t. Looked as desperate as you felt.  

“Why do you think I would ask, I would offer, if I didn’t want to actually do it?” 

“Because you give. You’re... You’re nice to me.” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

And you took a deep breath, tried to blink away the tears, sent them rolling down your cheeks instead.  

“Yoongi, what the fuck?” 

You saw him move, inch away just slightly, and you remembered who you were dealing with. Because he was Yoongi, your Yoongi, and he was warm and soft and sweet and funny and smart and you loved him so much that you forgot sometimes he still hated himself. Saw his denial now not of you but of his own desires. Remembered how long he had spent silently loving you without asking you to so much as hear a confession. Remembered how close you had both come to absolutely nothing at all, his disbelief overpowering his belief and his heart and his hope.  

You could see it from his side. See what he was trying to do, even if it was madness. Even if it was wrong. You could feel him retreat even now, tucking himself back inside his tortoise shell.  

“I’m so-” 

You didn’t let him finish, would not let him apologise. You kissed him, tasted the salt of your own tears between you, leant into him, let your arms wrap around him and pressed your lips to his, to his cheek, to his hairline, to his jaw. 

“Yoongi, I love you.” 

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he really did. 

“I’m glad you think I'm such a nice person and everything, but I promise, I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart. I’m asking because I actually want to. Like, really want to. Like, really enjoy myself and want you to enjoy yourself and want us to both enjoy ourselves together, y’know?” 

He nodded, couldn’t quite hold your gaze.  

“I’m serious. You need to know that I want to fuck you, ok?” 

And you laughed, though you were trying not to, even if it did feel a little ridiculous, having to convince your boyfriend that you wanted to have sex. 

He nodded again. 

“You promise I’m not a bad lay?” 

And you watched his face flick through shock and outrage and a kind of disbelief that become laughter.  

“You are not a bad lay, I promise.” 

“And what about blowjobs?”  

“Also good.”  

“You promise?” 

And you sat yourself in his lap, legs straddling his hips, sinking yourself low, pressing against him. 

“I promise.” 

“What if I say you have to prove it?” 

His head cocked to the side, playful, squinting at you, and you didn’t think that it was over, that he was suddenly convinced now, but with the burden of Being Terrible at Sex lifted off you, you felt not only lighter, but the deep, heavy, familiar drag of desire raise its head. 

“Prove it?” 

You shifted your hips again, deniably but definitely, and put your lips to his ear. 

“Prove that you like it when I suck your cock.” 

His hands gripped you tightly; you felt the bob in his throat when he swallowed as you pressed kisses down his neck and a stirring in his boxers that you sank even lower to press yourself against. 

“I’ll prove it if you prove that you like it when I fuck you.” 

“Deal.” 

* 

You were late up that next morning and Namjoon greeted you both from the back porch. 

“Hey, a little request: could you maybe be louder when you fuck? Suri and I are actually sleeping a little too well.” 

[watarfallar]

*gay braincell tossing*

Scar: Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Grian: Why start now?

Grian: I love you. Scar: I love me too.

Grian: I literally cannot believe I let you talk me into this. Scar: I literally said “I have an idea,” and you just went along with it without question.

Scar: Snow got me feeling some type of way. Grian: That's hypothermia.  Scar: Damn, the paramedics told me it was the magic of Christmas.

Grian: Surgery is basically just stabbing someone to life. Scar: Please never become a surgeon.

Scar: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Scar: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

Scar: Damn, the power went out. Grian: Don’t worry, I got this. Grian: *stomps foot* Scar: What-? Grian: *Sketchers light up*

Grian: We either die free, or die trying! Scar: Are those the only choices?

Scar: I’m totally useless. Grian: You’re not totally useless. Grian: You can be used as a bad example.

Scar: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue? Grian: Technically a mix of green and blue? Scar: So blurple. Grian: That's implying you're mixing blue and purple. Scar: Would you rather have fucking bleen? MOTHERFUCKING GRUE? Grian: You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

Scar: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?! Grian: ... Scar: Oh, right. The lying.

Grian: You’re not jealous, are you? Scar: No! Grian: Good, ‘cause I consider my fake relationship with you a lot more meaningful.

Scar: And what did we learn, Grian? Grian: Tackling someone isn’t the correct response to being asked a simple question.

Scar: You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong. Grian: *Sipping their drink after accidentally adding salt* I just like the way it tastes.

Scar: You are a solid 11/10. Grian: Aw, thank- Scar: Which is 1.1 because you look like shit.

Scar: And have you learnt anything this Christmas, Grian? Grian: …Not really. Scar: Nothing? Grian: Tell you one thing I have learnt—Christmas; ultimately, commercial holiday. Who's the real winner at Christmas? Amazon. they have drones now! Tiny little dystopian slaves delivering iPads and headphones. I ordered a toaster; It was on the doorstep five hours later! Do we need that? It was 4.99! For a toaster! I mean, someone's being exploited there.

Grian: Kill him. Scar: This is the kind of quality advice I look for.

Scar: There are no friends when playing board games. I am here to win.

Grian, texting: Scar, will you please go to sleep? Scar, texting back: What makes you think you didn’t just wake me up? Grian, yelling: I CAN HEAR YOU CLAPPING TO THE FRIENDS THEME EVERY TWENTY MINUTES SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP! Grian, texting: Just a hunch :) You goin’ to sleep soon? Scar, texting: I’m trying Grian, yelling again: TRY HARDER I HAVE A 5:45 AM MEETING TOMORROW BITCH Grian, texting: Okay, don’t stay up too late or you’ll be cranky :)

Scar: I’m a masochist, not a loser.

Scar: Wow, that was quick thinking on that phony sacrifice stuff. Grian: Oh, that was all real. Scar: Wait, you were trying to help them kill us?! Grian: If I’m gonna be sacrificed, I’m gonna do it right.

Grian: *spins around in chair ominously* I’ve been expecting y- *chair continues to spin* shit *tries to stop spinning* shit *tries to grab a table to stop spinning* sHIT *falls out of chair*

Grian: I’m not stupid, you know. Scar: Well, you’re doing a really good impression of it!

Scar: Why do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you. Scar: Ask me to kill for you. Grian: ...First of all, calm down-

Scar: Grian, you’ve tried 37 times and you’ve failed every time. Give it a break. Grian: DO I HEAR “FIRST TRY PART 38?”

Grian: I know how this must look but I can assure you we have a perfectly logical explanation. Scar: Yeah! We’re cowards!

Scar: *holds a gun out to Grian* Grian: I-I don't believe in guns. Scar: Well, trust me, they're very real. Now take it.

Scar: I owe you one. Grian: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

Grian: I hate you with every inch of my body! Scar: That’s not a lot of inches.

Scar, to Grian: You drink too much, swear too much, and your morals are highly questionable. Grian: … Scar: You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a best friend.

Scar: I need a long word. Grian: T-rex but the long one.

Grian: I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

Grian: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go. Scar: Those are wanted posters!

[toxicanonymity]

Hey Boo,

I've been seeing Joelkemons making the rounds being the best kind of dude to have around when you're crying.

Is Stepdad is having very strong feelings about all of this too? I imagine of Raider (LOML) and NW are being so soft with us, something in stepdad might respond to our hopelessly impotent rage.

I'd love to see how he reacts.

Boy howdy, tho, if I could slip into the brothel and have a big ol' Joel-pile, that shit would fix me all the way.

Thank you so much for everything you do and are.

I hope you're taking care of yourself too.

-- Cupquake <3

black tuesday

JOEL x f!READER | 1000 words

WARNINGS: 18+. Election Night. ANGST. Tears. Fears. This is intended to be a cathartic fic with some comfort but please don't read if it could be traumatic. Allusions to reproductive rights, etc. Reader is angry, esp. at men, takes it out on joel a little. Joel is supportive. Reader dacryphilia, brief smut. STEPDAD AU but you don't need to know it, and the stepcest doesn't come up.

NOTES: Sweet Cupquake, you're welcome and thank you for always being so supportive. Poor stepdad, he's normally the one needing comforting, isn't he? Yes, he has strong feelings about all this. This doesn't fit neatly in the AU timeline just roll with it. My brief post on the election is here. This will most likely be my only fic that overtly acknowledges the u.s. election. DO NOT INTERACT: TRUMP VOTERS, ANTI-CHOICE PEOPLE, MINORS.

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment watching the news while Joel makes dinner and a huge mess in the kitchen. When the early votes are counted, we’ll see a lot more blue, they said. No, actually. Not really. You turn the volume way down so you can barely hear it. 

“Pasta’s ready,” Joel announces in a weak, sing-song voice. 

You remain on the floor. Your breathing is shallow, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Joel comes into the living room but doesn’t sit down. He stands with his arms crossed. His neck veins are bulging, his biceps are tense, his jaw clenches as he watches the screen. He’s pissed, he’s so angry watching this happen. He’s embarrassed to be a Texan. He thinks about all the women he knows. Embarrassed to be a man. 

He looks back and forth between the tv and you, and he sees your eyes are watery. He brings your glass of water from the kitchen, but you refuse it. He puts it down on the coffee table. Then, he picks up the remote control and turns off the tv. 

“Why’d you do that?” you snap. 

“It’s only makin’ ya sad,” Joel replies. “It’s still early, there’s time.” 

“Sad?? You think I’m sad?” Heat rises to your face. Your chest tightens.  

“Okay,” Joel acknowledges softly. “I can see you’re not just sad.” 

He sits down and tries to put his arm around you but you scoot over to face him. 

“All you men just go around blowing your loads everywhere and we’re the ones who have to deal with it, and you have the nerve to tell us how.” 

“I’d never tell you how to--you know that.”

“--I am so fucking tired of men talking.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and sits quietly next to you for a minute. It’s hard knowing there’s nothing he can do or say, but he’s not going to leave you unless you tell him to. 

He clears his throat and asks softly, “Would anything make ya feel better?”

“Only waking up from this nightmare.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. 

“I don’t wanna feel better,” you begin to cry. “I want it to not happen….Like, is this real life?” 

None of it feels real. Months ago, people in stupid red hats were carrying around actual sperm cups. The highest-profile rapist in the country called himself the father of fertility, and crowds of people cheered. He said “mass deportation” and people cheered more. And then half the country voted for these sick, twisted buffoons. 

“You want some space?” Joel asks. 

“No,” you protest tearfully.

He hesitantly brushes the back of your neck with his thumb. This time, you let him put his arm around you. 

You whisper, “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Sweetheart, it ain’t over. We got time.” 

You shake your head no, ‘cause you can feel it in your gut. 

Joel sits in silence for a moment, and you can’t see it, but he’s tearing up because he can feel you burning and he’s powerless. 

He holds you and strokes your back while you bury your face in his chest. He discreetly checks his new york times app and tries not to react out loud- it’s only getting worse. 

After a few minutes of silence, he whispers your name, and you respond, “mm?”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

You look up to see his cheeks wet, his hair messy. Your heart swells with affection. Affection and… gratitude? God, the bar is in hell. But to be fair, you really love him. You’re grateful for the man he is, not the one he isn’t. 

Desire begins to stir in your chest.

Joel presses a kiss onto your forehead, then lifts your chin, and you look at each other. He brushes away a tear from your cheek. With his own cheeks still wet, he swallows, and the emotional bob of his Adam’s apple sends a rush of arousal to your core. You put your hand on the back of his neck and pull him toward you for a kiss. 

Affection and relief floods your body. It’s temporary, of course, but you let yourself have this. You let the nightmare fade into a spicy dream. 

You straddle him and he pulls you close and moans into your mouth. You kiss him desperately and feel him harden under you. He hesitates and mutters, “sorry,” trying to read the room. He pushes your thighs back, trying to put some distance between you and his hard-on. 

“Stop,” you reply, then latch onto his mouth again. He breaks away and says, “Just don’t want ya to feel like I–” 

“Shut up,” you tell him, then scoot yourself closer, your crotch firmly planted on the warm, stiffening shape in his sweatpants. You grind your hips into him. He kisses you back with increased fervor, and moans into your mouth. Kissing passionately, your loins throb warmly together and your hips move in rhythm. 

You reach between the two of you and slide your hand down his sweatpants. You palm his leaking manhood. Pressing it against his tummy, you gently move the skin on his shaft, and  He groans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and thrusts against your hand. 

You stand up to urgently take off your pj pants. 

His man-guilt is still eating at him. Squeezing his aching hard shaft, he lets out a moan, then weakly offers, “Are you sure you wanna…”

In response, you straddle him, hot and dripping against his bare arousal.  You slide against him, throbbing and ready. Then, as you slide his tip to your entrance, you warn him, “Get it while it’s on the table.” You sink down on him and he shudders. Then he thrusts upward and moans as he bottoms out.  

“My legs’ll be closed for business soon,”  you explain. 

He closes his eyes and breathes deep as your body accommodates his.  “Fair enough,” he answers thoughtfully, then opens his eyes. “Wait. Even if my face is the customer?” 

------

------

-----

NOTES: I actually wrote three Stepdad things, and chronologically, this is no. 2 of 3. The others aren't posted yet. The first one is a standalone pregnancy scare, nothing about the election (would've been before it). And the second one is a post-election talk about contraception.

My brief post on the election is here.

Thank you for reading. Please remember to take care of yourselves <33

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

HIII YOU DID SO WELL WITH THE X-2 KURT I feel like you really captured him welll,Can you do another one where reader was apart of the brotherhood but magneto and mystique left reader so she stayed with the x-men and she’s still adapting and when she meets Kurt she grows fond of him since she used to be religious and starts to get feelings for him please! (If you can’t write the religious part it’s totally fine too!)

~You Gotta Have Faith~

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: you read the ask (hopefully) the story is about religion and having a complicated relationship about it, proceed at your own desire

Genre: fluff pretty much

Summary: You can't be the best choice for a first mission with someone you couldn't feel more opposite of

A/N: HIIII SO GLAD YOU LIKED THAT STORY I hope you what I came up with for this one :)

***

The frantic knocking at your door puts you on high alert when you hear it from your room. You creep up to the door, watching the shadows move across your kitchen as the sun inches into the sky.

"Professor!" A voice whisper shouts through the door, knocking harder.

Professor? You quickly check your peephole and gasp when you realize it's students from the school. You swing open your door to find at least 10 students clutching their arms.

"What are you doing here? Where is your guardian?" You ask.

"Me." Peter points to himself.

"You're a student. What adult is responsible for you?"

"Well- you."

"Me? How did you even know where to find me!?" You frown.

"The manor was attacked." He says.

That's not an- oh whatever.

"Wha-" You tilt your head up and mouth a 'fuck me-' "Alright, get in here before someone sees y'all and starts asking questions." You rush all of them into the house and lock your door.

"Sweetie take the little ones downstairs. There's plenty of blankets in the closet down there." You address one of the older boys in the group, maybe like 14.

"You metal man are staying up here to explain what the heck is going on." You point to Peter and gesture for him to follow you into the kitchen.

"The manor was attacked." He says sitting at your kitchen's island on one of your stools.

"You said that. What do you mean? Who attacked the manor?"

"I don't know- they were guys in military tactical gear- they came in the middle of the night and started shooting us with these. I think they're tranquilizers." Peter drops a dart onto the counter.

"And you got all these kids out?" You ask. Peter nods.

"Logan stayed to fight them off, give us a headstart."

"Logan?! But where was Storm? Or Jean, or Scott, or Charles? Where were your professors?!"

"I don't know for sure. Some mission things. They left Logan in charge."

"And the school was attacked by an army? What happened to Logan? Or the rest of the kids?"

"Logan was fighting them off. He insisted I get as many kids out as possible. He- gave me your address. Told me to bring us here. Bobby and Rogue and John stayed behind. The guys in combat gear rounded up a lot of us before Logan or I could stop them."

"Let's find everyone." You hum walking over to the wall on your left. You tap out a pattern against one of the wall panels which pops open a retina scanner which triggers a finger print and once all of that is complete the wall flips open to reveal several devices.

"Woah- what is all this stuff?"

"Expensive. Don't touch any of it." You say.

"What does it do?"

"It connects to the xmen comms system." You say.

"And you just have this in your house?" He gasps.

"No."

"No?"

"This system exists outside of time and space. I can just summon it whenever I want." You shrug.

"What kind of mutant are you?" Peter asks.

"A transmogrifier." You frown as you see most devices are offline. There's two active though, Scott in Boston? And a jet. You think.

"A- what?"

"Shapeshifter." You mutter.

"Oh like the blue lady?"

"No not like- wait how do you know about Mystique?" You stop what you're doing to look at him.

"I- should I not?"

"Well it's not like she's visiting the mansion." You scoff.

"I overheard the professors talking about her. They were going to try tracking her down but weren't sure they'd be able to because of the whole-"

"Changing into other people thing yeah I'm familiar." You say. "Mystique can turn into other people. I can turn into anything. Real." You turn into a fox for a moment. "Or imaginary." You turn into a unicorn. "If I can envision it, I can turn into it." You explain.

You finally manage to get through to the jet comms system.

"Hello?" You say.

"Y/n?"

"Storm??" You frown.

"Yes." She says.

"Aren't you out of office this week?" Another voice chimes in, surprising you.

"Jean?" You blink.

"Yes."

"Where have y'all been?! Actually, hang on. Peter, can you join the kids downstairs please hon?" It's probably best he's not present for this conversation.

"No way. I wanna help." Peter says. You sigh and mute yourself so Jean and Storm can't hear you.

"You can help by doing what I'm asking you to do." You say.

"But I should be part of this-"

"Peter, we have no idea who attacked the mansion, or why, or how far they are willing to go for whatever they're after. Right now those kids just have us and the oldest person down there is 14. I'd feel better if you were with them while I handled this."

"Why can't I hear this?" He asks.

"I know you're older but you are still a student and therefore there are some things you aren't privy to. I'll give you the gist when we're done because I might have to leave you in charge but consider this a faculty meeting. No students allowed." You say. Peter reluctantly exists the kitchen and you return your attention back to your call.

"Sorry, hi." You huff.

"What was that?" Jean asks.

"Peter."

"Who?" Storm asks.

"Peter R."

"Why is Peter R. at your house?" Storm asks.

"Do you have any idea what's going on right now!?" You shake your head.

"No. We can't get Scott, we can't get Charles, Logan's giving no information-"

"Scott's in Boston." You cut Jean off.

"Logan's in Boston." Storm corrects you.

"Logan's in Boston?! Where's Scott?" You frown.

"He was supposed to be with Charles visiting Magneto and we can't get them." Storm sighs.

"Visiting Magneto!? What the hell for?" You blink in shock.

"We're not sure-"

"Well where are yall?" You ask.

"Headed to get Logan. He said they're in trouble but he won't explain." Storm says.

"The Mansion got attacked." You say.

"What!?" They gasp.

"How do you know that?!" Jean asks.

"I've got at least a dozen kids in my house as a result of it." You say.

"A dozen? Where are the others?!" She asks.

"Deities only know!" You sigh.

"Well who the hell-"

"No idea. Peter says they were like military or something. Storm, things are bad."

"We'll be fine. There's not a thing in this galaxy we aren't able to handle. You know this, you know us." Storm says.

"I don't like that we're so scattered. We weren't prepared for this-"

"We never are. But we don't back down." Jean says.

"Holy shi-"

"What the-"

"Can one of you finish a sentence?" You ask.

"We just got to Logan." Storm says.

"Is he okay!?" Your eyes widen.

"They- seem to have picked a fight with some cops." She says.

"Logan?" You raise a brow, Logan's not a fight picker.

"He's got Rogue and Bobby and that John kid with him." Jean says.

"Let's get outta here." You hear Logan grunt.

"Logan!" You say.

"Y/n? Did that metal kid make it to you?" He asks.

"Oh he did. Him and a handful of others."

"Thank fuck." He sighs.

"Y/n we- need to go." Jean says.

"We're being shot at! We'll touch base when we're safe!" Storm tells you and disconnects.

"This is fucking insane." You sigh.

It's a while before you hear from them again. It's then that you learned about Striker and Magneto getting involved, and the new mutant. With the kids at your place and Magneto being directly involved with their save the day plan, you decide you're better off staying home. You're not sure you're quite ready to face Magneto and Mystique in an amiable way. It's a stressful couple of days waiting for an update of any kind. And it's even more stressful couple of months trying to readjust afterwards.

Repairs on the mansion are plentiful and extensive. Several students end up displaced as their rooms were destroyed but you and the others do your best to make this easier for them.

And of course there's the new mutant. Logan and Storm told you his name is Kurt Wagner, former circus performer, teletransporter and according to Logan 'total weirdo'. You haven't really spoken to him but you've seen him slinking around the manor.

As you're walking down the hall you vaguely, just barely, hear the very quiet sound of someone breathing- above you? You tilt your head up and there's Kurt, walking down the hall but on the ceiling.

"Yo Cirque du Soleil!" You call up at him.

"Me?" He bends his neck backwards to look at you upside down.

"You were in a circus weren't you?" You ask.

"Yes!"

"Well then yeah, you. Why are you on the ceiling?"

"I feel I'm better off moving around the academy this way." He says. You give yourself a set of wings and fly up to the ceiling to be face to face with him.

"Better off up here than walking like the rest of us?" You ask.

"I think I freak out some of the kids." He admits.

"What?"

"They stare at me."

"Of course they do. You're the new guy. Scott shoots lasers out of his eyes, Logan has claws in his knuckles, one of these kids turns fully metal, another's a popsicle, one kid can't touch anyone without risking their life. Trust me, it's not because you freak them out. This isn't the kind of place where you'll be judged harshly for something so trivial." You say.

"Easy for you to say. You look normal. All of them can look normal."

"Looks are deceiving."

"Not mine." He shakes his head.

"No? Well I happen to like the way you look." You shrug.

"What?" His eyes widen in surprise.

"I think it's cool. You were born this way so as far as I'm concerned it is normal. Plus who wants to be normal when you can be awesome? Or gifted as Charles calls the kids."

"You think it's cool?" Kurt seems skeptical.

"Well yeah. Do you not?"

"I-"

"Professor y/n?!" You look over your shoulder and down at the sound of your name being called.

"Oh, hey Margot." You say to one of the students.

"Why are you up there?" She asks.

"Talking to Mr. Wagner." You say.

"Who?"

"Walk like- 2 feet forward for me." You tell her. She walks forward and looks up again, Kurt now in her line of sight. He flashes an awkward smile at her.

"Who are you?" She says.

"That's Mr. Wagner." You say.

"Oh. Well hi." She waves at him.

"Hello." Kurt says.

"Why are you on the ceiling?"

"Just- hanging around." Kurt says.

"You two are weird." Margot says.

"Weren't you going somewhere Margot?" You roll your eyes.

"Just to get lunch." She shrugs.

"You go do that then."

"Okay, fine." She continues down the hall.

"Kurt, come down with me. You live here now, you have no reason to hide. Especially not the acne covered gremlins roaming the halls."

"Should you be speaking of students like that?" Kurt asks, eyebrows squeezing together.

"When trying to convice the new guy to stop crawling on the ceiling I think I'll give myself a pass this time." You shrug, holding a hand out to Kurt. He hesitantly takes it and you fly him off the ceiling.

"There. Isn't that better?" You smile.

"I- I feel exposed."

"This is your home. Treat it as such. And don't let anyone convince you otherwise." You offer.

"Thank you." He smiles, it's shy and small, barely showing his sharp teeth.

"Don't mention it. See ya around." You say walking away from him. You're barely down the hall when an arm reaches out and pulls you into one of the offices.

"What was that?" Logan crosses his arms.

"What was what?" You frown.

"You and Mr. Circus. You would barely speak to me when you first got here why are you already best friends with the new guy?"

"You're exaggerating. All I did was try to get him off the ceiling." You roll your eyes.

"Really? 'This is your home, don't let anyone convince you otherwise'?" Logan repeats your words to you.

"An objective fact and a piece of advice nosy." You scoff.

"It is probably the first nice thing you've done for someone that wasn't a student here. You know I have to investigate."

"You don't. You're just annoying. Don't you have another soul searching mission or something you can go on?"

"Trying to get rid of me dear? And here I thought we were friends." He shakes his head.

"I'm so sorry you had that impression. I'll try not to confuse you in the future."

"Harsh."

I'm gonna go now." You tell him and walk away.

You and Logan have an interesting relationship. You speak to him more than you do the others, but it's usually some form of bickering back and forth. Not in any sort of serious way, the others joke that you two are frenemies. You're still not sure why Logan is always extending an olive branch considering he's not even one of the chatty ones here but you recogonize the effort, and while you'll never tell him this you appreciate that he makes it clear you've got him in your corner.

~

You hear a knock on your office door and don't even turn your head away from your laptop as you address whoever is on the other side.

"Come in!" You call.

"It's Charles." He tells you before opening the door.

"What's up?" You ask.

"I wanted to talk to you about our new X-man."

"Kurt?" You frown.

"Mr. Wagner seems to have- taken a liking to you." Charles says with a nod.

"We've had like 2 conversations." You scoff.

"Even so. He seems most open to you."

"What's your point?"

"I'm sending you on a mission, and you'll be taking him with you."

"Get fucked. I'm not babysitting the new guy." You scoff.

"Don't be ridiculous he's an adult he doesn't need a babysitter." Charles shakes his head.

"So why are you sending us on this mission together like a pair of siblings being forced to include each other in our plans?" You ask.

"Do you see Kurt like a sibling?"

"That's not the point but no. This just feels like when my friends parents would insist they bring along their little brothers or sisters when we had plans."

"It's Kurt's first mission. I'd like him to go with someone he's comfortable with. To make it easier for him."

"You didn't do that for my first mission." You scoff.

"Yes I did. I sent Logan on that mission with you."

"I was not comfortable with Logan!"

"You weren't comfortable with anyone. Logan just seemed to have an afinity for you, I saw potential for a friendship between you both so I went off of that. You can grumble all you want but you're going. Here's your file. Kurt will receive one as well. You leave tomorrow." Charles places a file folder on your desk.

"Are we taking the jet?" You ask.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're not going that far. Besides, Scott needs it." 

"Fine. I'll take one of his cars then." You say.

"He's not going to like that." Charles hums.

"Oh I know, that's the fun part." You shrug.

"You and Logan really are cut from the same cloth." Charles shakes his head and leaves your office.

"Don't say things like that Charles!" You call after him. He snorts and continues down the hall as you review the file he handed you. Looks like you'll be going on a mission. With the new guy. Great.

You toss your bag into the back seat, popping your gum as you slide into Scott's car. It's not like he's gonna be here to use it anyway.

"Do you get nervous before missions?" Kurt asks you as you start the car. You glance over at him for a moment and then put on your sunglasses as you pull out of the garage.

"No." You say.

"Oh." He says. After a couple of moments of silence you roll your eyes at your own inability to let it go.

"Are you nervous?" You ask him.

"A little bit. The circus is- very different from espionage."

"I'm sure you could apply those skills." You say.

"You really don't get nervous?"

"Nerves get you killed."

"That's bleak."

"That's what I was taught." You shrug.

"By the x-men?" He asks.

"Do they strike you as that type?"

"Well- no but I do not know anyone well."

"I was part of something else before this. They taught me nerves get you killed."

"And you still think that way?"

"Of course. It's never failed me." You shrug.

"That seems... grim."

"It works for me. Charles would probably have me tell you that it's perfectly normal to be nervous for your first mission and there's nothing to worry about. I'm gonna tell you that if at any point you freak during this mission stay out of the way and keep quiet." You tell him.

"It sounds like you expect me to do poorly."

"I don't expect anything but nerves get in the way. They make you freeze, I won't have you ruin this mission if you freeze."

"I won't freeze."

"Just covering my bases." You mutter. There's a long while where neither of you says anything but as you get closer to your destination you hear him quietly muttering.

"What're you doing?" You frown over at him.

"Praying." He says.

"Praying?" You almost can't believe your ears.

"Yes."

"Charles has one hell of a sense of humor." You snort.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing Kurt." You hum. From that point you try to focus on drying, but your mind keeps wandering to the strange newcomer sitting beside you. He spends most of the drive going over the mission file and mumbling things to himself. You don't think they're more prayers but who's to say really. You know you certainly weren't shy about how often you prayed before. You wouldn't put it passed Charles to assume you and Kurt would bond over the religion thing but it's a bit ridiculous if he did seeing as your relationship with faith isn't exactly- a positive one.

It takes you 2 days to get to the location Charles gave you. Mostly because you didn't want to drive 16 hours straight. You drive til sundown and once it's dark you find the nearest safehouse and spend the night there, where Kurt continues to pray incessently. He prays before bed, before eating, he even prayed before stepping foot into the safehouse.

For some reason, you're surprised every time he does it. It's like you keep forgetting he's religous because it's been so long since you've been around someone so devout in their faith. And you're not sure who Charles thought was going to get the most out of pairing the two of you up honestly, there are X-men who are much more indifferent to religion than you are who probably wouldn't be so jarred by it all.

Still, you're nothing if not professional, and no amount of personal trauma will impede your mission here.

When you arrive at the final destination you almost want to laugh. A catholic school. If this Charles' idea of a joke you might have to seriously reconsider your choice to join the X-men. At this point you're certain the egghead is putting you through some weird trials. You pop a piece of gum into your mouth and cut the engine.

"You wanna pray before we go in there?" You ask Kurt.

"What?" He blinks at you.

"You've prayed like a dozen times in the last two days." You shrug.

"Well yes but I thought you wouldn't-"

"I don't care. If it'll keep you from being nervous do it."

"Should we even be going into a place like this?" Kurt frowns.

"The school's been shut down for years." You scoff.

"It's still a house of the lord though, isn't it?"

"If His people aren't using it I don't think it counts. Besides, we shouldn't have to disturb any of it significantly anyway. We're just looking into a whatever energy Charles was picking up on." You shrug pushing open the car door. Kurt quickly mumbles the lord's prayer to himself and follows your lead, scrambling out of the car.

"You gonna chill out now Wagner?" You ask him.

"I will try." He nods.

"Good enough. Recite that lord's prayer again if it helps I guess. Just- in your head next time." You say walking towards the building. Kurt follows you inside and the two of you scan the building for anything that might have raised flags with Charles. Eventually you turn down a hall and hear a thud behind you. When you spin around and realize Kurt isn't there you whip back around the corner to find him dazed and darting through the hallway.

"Kurt!"

"Something- someone attacked me!" Kurt tells you. Ah, a mutant must've been hiding here. You feel a breeze blow by you and realize the mutant must be a speedster.

"Kurt wait don't-"

He catches the mutant before you can stop him, but you do intervene with a hand around his wrist when it seems like he's going to hit them. Pinned underneath Kurt is a mutant that looks to be about 15, huffing real hard.

"It's just a kid." You say. You grab the kid's arm and motion for Kurt to let him up. Hesitantly he does and you keep your grip tight around the youngster's forearm as he rises from the ground. "Yo kid, what're you doin creeping around this school like a ghost haunting the place,?" You ask. The kids tries to wresting away from you unsuccessfully.

"How did you even find me?"

"That's kind of what we do."

"Traitors!" He snaps.

"What?" You're sure the look of confusion on your face is severe.

"How do you sleep at night turning against your own kind? Taking mutants to the government."

"Oh hush." You roll your eyes. "We're X-men not cops. But on paper I'm a professor at a school for 'gifted youngseters'- or mutants. Like you. We track down and house young mutants, teach them how to make the most of their abilities." You tell him.

"Oh-"

"You got a bag? Photos of your dead family, childhood momentos, a sack of clothes, anything you don't wanna leave here before we take you."

"Take me where?" 

"To the school kid, congrats on your admission." You say.

"I've got a backpack."

"Good. Lead the way." You don't let go of him, in case he gets flighty on you but he without protest takes you to the classroom holding his personal items and soon you're in the car again with him silently in the back seat.

"You got a name speedster?"

"Matt."

"I'm y/n, this is Kurt." You offer.

You drive a few hours until you hit a safehouse and Kurt stays up watching Matt while you catch some sleep before hitting the road again. You decide to tough it out and do the 10 hour drive without another overnight stop. You stop for food, you stop for gas, you stop for restroom breaks if necessary but you wanna make it back to the mansion, the sooner the better.

Once there, you and Matt set out to find Charles, get the kid officially set up and whatnot. But as soon as Kurt's out of sight Matt asks a question out of nowhere.

"What's up with you and that blue guy?"

"His name is Kurt kid don't be rude." You say.

"Okay, what's up with you and Kurt?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He looks at you like nothing else has ever mattered in the world when you're near him."

"You're being ridiculous." You roll your eyes.

"You're being oblivious."

"Watch it kid." You warn him.

"Not sure if you really don't notice it or if you're deliberately ignoring it but the guy definitely likes you. How can you not tell?"

"I barely know him."

"Then why do you look at him like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you wanna put him in a box and keep him like a pet."

"We're here. Charles! I found your funny feeling." You say pushing open the door to his office.

"Hello y/n."

"This is Max. We need to talk about the missions you're sending me on."

"You were successful. And in a shorter timeframe than expected. I see no reason to make changes." Charles says.

"I'm not gonna argue with you in front of the kid. We'll discuss it later." You say and leave the office. You head to the kitchen to make yourself a something to drink and a snack. It's been an exhausting few days.

You open the fridge, looking for something to snack on.

"You don't like me, do you?" Kurt's voice takes you by surprise, you swear the kitchen was empty when you came in here.

"Fucking- where the hell did you come from?"

"Just- around."

"Oh great what an enlightening answer. What are you even talking about?"

"You don't like me." Kurt says. It's not a question.

"How'd you come to that conclusion?" You sigh.

"You were grumpy during that whole mission."

"Not because of you I was pissed at Charles."

"Because he made you work with me?"

"Yes! Is that what you wanna hear? I was mad Charles paired me with someone I can't stand. Does that not sound insane to you Kurt? Obviously that's not it. The whole mission made me uncomfortable and I felt like it was... targeted. Like Charles was picking on me or something."

"Why?" Kurt tilt's his head curiously.

"You're very religous and my relationship with that religion is pretty rough. On top of the fucking catholic school it was- a lot."

"Ah so- you don't believe in God?"

"I don't believe in Christianity." You say.

"But you believe in God?"

"I believe in many gods."

"How can you...?"

"I believe all of them exist, because religion is based in belief- faith is the belief of something without proof of existence, by definition if believing in something makes it true then all the pantheons exist- but each person is only influenced by the pantheon they believe in."

"What an insightful line of thinking." He hums. "So you don't hate me?"

"No. I have complicated feelings around religion not you."

"What are your feelings around me?"

"You're new. I don't know you well but you seem very sweet, and there's obviously a reason everyone else wanted you to stick around in the first place so that's good enough for me." You shrug.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well- do you want me to stick around?" He asks.

You let out a sigh.

"I want you to do what makes you happy. If staying here, being part of this, doing what we do, makes you happy then yeah, stick around. But, you have to stop caring about if people like you. Not everyone will and that has to be okay because sometimes personalities just don't mix and nothing you do or say will change that and you shouldn't spend your time trying to make yourself change for them anyway. You should want people that like you for you because if you have to change then they don't like you they like what they can turn you into and that's not worth the stress. Not everyone will like you it's not a personal failure on you. Just make sure you like you."

"I agree with you, and I don't need everyone to like me." He says.

Kurt steps closer to you.

"But I do want you to like me. And if that takes a while, I'm willing to work to make that happen." He leaves the kitchen then and you're only barely able to keep a straight face until he's gone. You're stunned by his admission but your lips slowly stretch into a smile.

"Fuck me." You chuckle.

Why on earth does he want you to like him? And what made him say that just now? And what does it mean? And how are you supposed to deal with the fact that your heart is racing right now?

Things are about to get very different for you around the mansion.

***

[inawickedlittletown]

Sooo I started to read other articles. I didn't after reading the ones that came out right after the episode that justifiably got everyone upset.

This one from tv insider had Tim saying this:

Moving on to Buck and Tommy’s breakup, talk about your approach to it. Why was Tommy sure that Buck would break his heart?

Tommy’s older and Buck is very new to this, and whether Tommy was correct or not, I think what he felt like was exactly what he said: I’m not your last, I’m your first, which is a special thing to be, but as Tommy says, it doesn’t usually end up being the same thing. And I think based on what we know of Buck, he’s maybe not wrong. Buck’s a little impulsive when he’s feeling a certain kind of way. He’s like, move on in, bring your couch. So I just think because Tommy’s a little older and wiser or maybe at some level he feels like he doesn’t deserve Buck, I don’t know. But I think he accurately diagnosed Buck. Buck’s still figuring himself out, and boy, that would be quite risky to move in with that guy as much as you would love to.

That does seem to be Buck’s go-to, which isn’t the best.

Exactly.

Are we going to see Buck single for a significant period of time now? Is he trying to figure out what he wants really out of a relationship?

Yeah, I think that’s right. As Tommy said, you’re still figuring yourself out, and his options have increased by 50 percent of the population. So knowing Buck, that’s going to be choice overload. He’s got to navigate that with a little self-awareness.

--

So they definitely planned for this. That's what this reads like...they wanted to break them up so that they could send Buck through a period of exploration. Tim says everything Oliver said here in much nicer terms. His view of Buck is so...Idk, it's like he sees Buck as a kid that still doesn't know what he wants. And he decided to put that view right into Tommy's head too. It's a little jarring I guess but this show...has it ever been consistent?

What sucks is that 8x05 was written like they were doing so well. And then right off the back with 8x06 we have warning signs in the date scene with the girl that approaches Buck and how Tommy sort of shrugs off Buck checking her out. I really do wonder where hot waiter fit into this and I'm so glad we didn't see Tommy like checking hot waiter out or something. But I guess that scene was there to sow the seeds. We have Buck spiraling because of the Abby thing and we have Tommy maybe not realizing but reinforcing for himself that he's a stepping stone for Buck and being okay with it in the status quo.

The way that Tim speaks about Buck asking Tommy to move in, he makes it seem like Buck is just barreling in without thought...like if they went through with it Tommy might be proven right. But then what is the point of the scene with Josh where Buck is right on the cusp of an "I love you" just to then be like no actually Tommy knows how this ends and he can read Buck and knows they're not forever. But Tommy is not a mind reader.

Where there is hope is in that Tim doesn't outwardly say anything about Tommy being gone for good. As someone else pointed out the Lou interviews were done by buddie journalists with a bias so there is a question to how much that colored what we got and why they were so determined to close the door fully. Also...why did we get exit interviews in the first place for a character that only had three episodes...it's so odd.

The writers made a point of leaving this open. Do I think we'll get Tommy back any time soon. No. But after the doom and gloom and the time to mourn this a bit I want to be positive and there is really no knowing. Tim says he thinks Buck will be single for a while...okay fine...picture that being the rest of this season.

Buck won't just jump into another relationship...and Oliver gets his Buck slut era 2.0...what if S9 brings back Tommy? What if this is the long game...or at least the thing they can have in their back pocket if Lou is available later on to come back. But that's not something they can promise or that they can commit to and Lou isn't on contract clearly and Oliver wouldn't know if that's the plan...hell even Tim probably doesn't know if they'll do that. Or I'm giving him too much credit because as we've seen this season storylines have been rushed to close up at breakneck speeds so it would be an anomaly for him to prolong something like this.

All this to say, showing the network and Tim that bucktommy matters to a lot of people and that Tommy matters...it may just make a difference.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi! I'd like to hear more of your thoughts on Rebecca and Eric from "Luster" by Raven Leilani. I just reread it recently and yeah, it is incredible (saying this as an almost 23-year-old Black woman that sort of identifies with Edie).

I really enjoy both Rebecca and Eric as characters - and within their separate relationships to Edie. However, it's really hard for me to understand which scenes/instances - besides the obvious humiliation they both participate in in regards to Edie - that show explicitly Rebecca's issues with rage and Eric's more absolute loserish tendencies.

I mean, I'm not completely unaware of the unsavory ways in which they act; not going to list them all out. But some of the reviews - including yours - and even interviews with Raven Leilani that talk more about the characters, don't go as in-depth as I'm looking for. I feel like the ogre reading Joyce :(

[The lines from the book I've been thinking of most often - though not my favorites are Eric saying "I don't think of you as a person at all" and (I'm gonna get the wording kind of wrong, but) "I cry everywhere and often" near the beginning of the book]

I hope this is asking too much. I really enjoyed your review and I'm already kind of looking forward to reading it again because of it <3

hi anon,

well Rebecca, to me, is impossible to read as anything BUT a white woman hitting middle age and realizing that she made all the "right" choices - she has a job that pays well and she married a stable man and together they adopted a child and got a good house in a good (read: white) neighborhood - and still isn't actually happy with her life.

I mean, what does Rebecca actually have going on? she's exercising furious control over her body via furious physical activity because it's one of the only things she can feel in charge of. she pushes the same on her daughter, making a child count calories in a way that's absolutely going to give her a complex. she didn't want the child in the first place; she tells Edie verbatim that she never wanted to be a mother and while I do think she cares about Akila's well-being I think she also knows that she's wildly ill-equipped trying to parent a traumatized Black girl. she's in an "open" marriage that reeks of "we either had to open the marriage or get divorced" that she micromanages from afar so that Eric gets as little freedom as possible with Edie in the early stage of their relationship; Rebecca doesn't actually want Eric to fuck someone else, she wants him to get tired of trying and come back to her.

after the initial humiliation of trapping Edie at their anniversary party Rebecca remains emotionally distant towards her; even after she invites Edie to stay in her house she stays mercurial and her mood is subject to switch on a dime, always falling back into little power plays to remind Edie she's in charge, because Edie is a safer and easier target for Rebecca's pent up frustrations than her husband or daughter. she's exactly warm enough to Edie to make it hurt more when she's callous and mean, which I don't think is strictly intentional (I don't think Rebecca consciously knows what the hell she's trying to get out of their dynamic, either) but is still an extremely shitty way to treat a vulnerable young woman who's currently completely dependent on her for shelter.

arguably the most relaxed we ever see her is when she takes Edie to a mosh pit, because that's one of the only moments of unrestrained emotional authenticity that Rebecca gets to have - and it's wildly outside the norm of her day to day life, something that she's supposed to have left behind when she started dating Eric. Rebecca is so furiously dissatisfied with everything about her life and I frankly think she'd be happier if she disappeared in the night to go be a bartender or a roadie and never saw her husband or daughter again, but she'll never do that because you Can't do that, not if you're a respectable woman trying to cling to the signifiers of success that you worked so hard for.

re: Eric being a loser I really don't know what I need to cite other than him having a wife and a girlfriend and not treating either of them well tbh

[choicesfandomappreciation]

Choices Fandom Appreciation Day 1

I know I’m a day late, and have not been super active in this space, but I couldn’t miss the chance to thank some of the amazing people I’ve met here. I know I've missed some friends and I am so very sorry! I will post more

@ladylamrian my bestie, my first friend in this space, you are so talented and kind!! 🩷🩷 I adore all the world-building you have done for Nightbound, your beautiful Alex Clarissa Fontaine and Nik Ryder – you’re so talented, I love your fics and edits!! Also, when will you grace us with some Dino-MC fanfiction??!! But most of all, I appreciate our friendship, always! 🥰🩷

@thosehallowedhalls Cee, I adore you, I hope you know that! 💛💛You’re a kind, wonderful soul, you have brightened this space with your caring and generous presence. And boy are you talented!! I just eat all your works of fiction you’re such a good writer!! I appreciate our chats and your encouragements always, I will write that Sam Rose-Luke Watanabe fic one day! 😅🤭

@storyofmychoices As you know, your Mal and Daenarya are what drew me into this fandom, but your kindness, selflessness and just the warmth with which you treat us are what keeps me here. 🩷🩷 You’re a force of good in this fandom, thank you for all the time and effort you put into hosting events, the choiceskindness space and bookclub – amongst sooo many other things!! You are an immensely talented person, I treasure your art and fics and all your pairings fascinate me. While I adore your creativeness, I cherish who you are as a person and I’m just so thankful I met you!! 💛🥰

@lilyoffandoms I am just in awe at how talented you are!! I adore your art and your writing – your angsty blades fics live in my head rent-free. 💛 If it weren’t enough that you are an all-around supremely talented individual, you are also one of the kindest, most generous people I’ve met, gifting your time and talent to spread joy. 🩷 I really appreciate you and all that you do to make this space welcoming – and I adore seeing your art on my dash!!

@jerzwriter Elsa have always been in awe of your writing chops – you are such a talented and prolific writer, thank you for blessing us with your art 😊 I feel like I got to know you a little more through the Wake the Dead re-read and I really appreciate your kindness, creativity and no-nonsense attitude! 💛 You’ve made me feel welcome and seen, thank you! 🩷🩷 Also, how you’re a force within this fandom, giving so much of your time to spotlight writers, artists and creators. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you amiga!! Can’t wait for more Eli, Zoe, Troy and the gang!

@petalouda85 I really appreciate you! I love chit chatting about our blorbos, your Blades fics and your epic book!! You’re amazingly talented and so kind. I’m really glad I met you through this fandom and happy to count you as a friend 🥰🥰

@peonierose I am so glad I met you and we became friends! You are such a bright light in this fandom, you bring warmth, joy and kindness, even when you are going through difficult times. I appreciate you all the more for it. 🌺🩷 And please know I’m always here for you. I adore the world you’ve built for Luna and Bryce, it’s been wonderful getting to know them through your eyes. 🥰

@aallotarenunelma ma chère amie! J’apprécie énormément ta gentillesse et générosité. Même si on ne se parle pas beaucoup dernièrement, je pense souvent à toi et je t’apprécie comme amie. 💛💛 Tu es si talentueuse, le monde que tu as créé pour ID me fascine. Merci aussi pour ton appui et tes commentaires si généreux pour mes histoires. 🥰 Je suis vraiment contente de t’avoir rencontrée, et de te compter parmi mes amies

@gaiuskamilah Jam! I am in love with your brain! Love love love your BB fics and analysis, also Blades and CoP. You make me stop and think deeper about the lesser-appreciated characters *cough* Gaius *cough* - which I wholly appreciate. And you art!! I adore your art!! 💛

@aria-ashryver You are a supremely talented writer, and such a bright light in this fandom!!! ☀️💛 I admire your positivity, kindness even when you’re going through difficult times. I’m sending nothing but positive vibes your way hun, wishing you good health and positive energy! 🩷💛

@oh-so-youre-a-nerd just am in awe with your art! You’re so amazingly talented, I love seeing you on my dash. And I appreciate your kindness 💛

@choicesmc I am in awe with your creativity, I’ve said it to you and will say it again!! Your writing, your edits, your art – just I’m in awe. 🤩🤩 Love seeing your posts on my dash. You’re a force of good and positivity in this fandom, thank you for sharing your world with us!

@cadybear420: I adore your edits, headcanons and fics, you’re super talented, creative, but also really kind. You spread joy and positivity - I really appreciate you! 🥰💛

@erixadraws you are wonderful, talented and kind. 💛 You art always makes me smile – I’m in awe with how you draw our favorite blades babies. I treasure my modern Mal and Autumn!! I’m so glad I met you!

@angelasscribbles I adore your writing. You’re so talented – be it TRR or your Romance Club works, I devour every. Single. Word. I appreciate the time you put in through the monthly prompts and helping to unleash our creativity! (I really hope to participate more). Thank you for sharing your wonderful writing with us! 💛🥰

@bedtimegiraffe I love your Blades playthroughs and analysis - can't get enough of them! 💛

@rjschoicesstuff I love your art! thank you for sharing with us, and for all the wonderful pieces you’ve created for friends within this fandom. I always smile when I see your art on my dash! 🥰

@kyra75, @tessa-liam, @princess-geek, @rosesnink, @bri1234 you are all such kind presences in this fandom, supportive of others and fantastic writers! I can’t wait to read more of your works 💛

@missameliep Dani, I love your writing! Your miniseries with Troy Safe lives rent free in my head. I can't wait to catch up on your other works! 🩷

@artbyalz I am in awe of your talent! love seeing your art on my dash, thank you for sharing it with us! 💛

@trappedinfanfiction you're a wonderful presence in this fandom! I appreciate the love you give Imtura with your lovely MC Rán! You're a talented writer 🩷

@choiceswithmika, we haven’t interacted much lately but I love seeing your amazing edits on my dash! You’re super talented and so kind to create such wonderful edits and art for us 🥰🩷

@liaromancewriter thank you for sharing your wonderful fics with us and hosting the Choicesficwriterscreations blog and promoting all the wonderful creators across this fandom!! We haven’t interacted much but I’ve always admired your writing and your kindness in this space. 💛

@renninflight and @brycesgirl, I appreciate and value the positivity you spread in this little space, please know you are super appreciated (@brycesgirlforever thankful for your HS screenshots!! 😊)

💛

[weneepie]

neighbours w/ eddie brock & venom rules | m.list

note. yes i saw the last Venom movie and no i'm not okay, but let's act like everything's fine okay? <3 feel free to request!

You had been living in the apartment for a while now, and as you weren’t really the type to sympathise with people, you had no idea who your own neighbours were. Until one of them became way too loud for you to ignore. 

It wasn’t like you were doing a really difficult job, even if it was still debatable. Being a writer was making you stay up all night long to keep writing your book with the hope of finally being able to finish it and, one day, find an editor. But the guy living next to you? He was making things impossible for you. 

You had decided to let it pass, hoping that it would simply stop by itself ; but it didn’t. Actually, you could swear it had become worse by the time. So one night, you decided that it was already more than enough, and you left your place to come knock at his door. 

You heard sounds of stuff breaking, a guy talking by himself, until he finally opened the door. He was all alone, and he seemed to be anything but okay. The guy was sweating in his grey hoodie, and he looked completely exhausted. You frowned slightly when he offered you an awkward smile. 

“Hi, I’m sorry about the noise.” He started, and you could only sighed at his words. How could you be angry at a poor guy who seemed to be just as in a bad state as you right now? You slowly shook your hand. “It’s fine, just try to be careful. I’m not sleeping much, but it’s hard to focus with all the noise you��re making.” 

You met his gaze when you heard him murmuring something. What was his problem? You were trying to be nice, there was no way he was really speaking under his breath. “Excuse me?” You asked with an eyebrow raised, and the guy quickly looked back at you. “No, nothing! Sorry again.” And with that, the conversation was over. 

After the ‘incident’, it was always like fate wanted you to meet your neighbour more often than it was the case before. In the elevator, when you were going out of your apartment to put the trash out ; anything. By the time, you learnt that your neighbour’s name was Eddie, and that he was a journalist. Both of you weren’t doing the same job, but you had the same troubles so it felt easy to talk with him, even though Eddie was a bit… strange. 

It was almost like he was never fully comfortable, something being awkward with him all the time. You might have sounded crazy, but you could swear it was like he was never alone in his own mind. Eddie was the type to talk to himself, in a whisper or louder than expected sometimes. You learnt to deal with it, but you couldn’t get out of your head this silly idea that Eddie was hiding something from you. 

One night, after some friends almost forced you to go out with them at the bar, you were walking alone in the street to go back to your apartment. You weren’t even tipsy, as drinking wasn’t much your thing, so you were sure that the noises you heard behind you were more than real. You tried to walk faster, but it was obviously not enough. Soon, your wrist was held by a complete stranger trying to get you to come with him. 

You didn’t have much time to fight him back, because he flew away suddenly. You opened your eyes wide, following his figure crashing in the wall, not understanding what had just happened before your eyes. It didn’t make much more sense when you looked back at where he was before and saw a large dark figure standing in front of you. 

Large white eyes, and even larger teeth going out of a stupidly wide mouth ; you were sure you were about to die here and now. The monster tilted his head to the side, examining your figure before it kind of smiled, making it even creepier than before. “The little human shouldn’t walk alone so late.” His voice was deep, deeper than anything you ever heard in your life before. 

“We’ll walk you back,” it said, and you weren’t sure if you really had the choice to refuse the offer. At least, he didn’t want to eat you alive, it was a good start. “Eddie says you’re nice, and we agree with him.” 

Wait… Eddie? You looked back at the creature with a frown, and you could swear you heard someone yell at the monster under all of those muscles. “Eddie says we can’t tell you he’s here, but he’s hidden,” said the black monster. The more he spoke, and the less you understood what was going on. Until it revealed you the truth hidden for so long. 

The dark figure disappeared, only to leave you in front of your neighbour, Eddie Brock, a black head with sort of tentacles going out of his shoulder. You blinked a few times, completely at loss of words. Eddie had this awkward smile on his lips, trying to find the right words. The silence felt like an eternity, so many thoughts flooding in your mind. 

“That’s Venom. You weren’t supposed to meet him, or to know he was… well, me? Kinda.” You frowned, your eyes now locked on Eddie’s face who wasn’t helping you at all to understand everything. “Venom? You have an alien inside of you?” You almost snapped at him, the confusion too strong to think straight. “

“A symbiote, but yeah, technically an alien,” he said, and a sigh escaped your lips. You had so many questions ; and now that you knew, you weren’t going to give Eddie the choice to explain everything or not. You needed to know what was really happening, and how it was even possible. 

This is how you ended up staying almost the whole night at Eddie’s place, with him and the symbiote explaining to you the situation. You quickly understood that it wasn’t a simple possession ; Eddie was a host and they both had this kind of situationship a bit weird that was going on. Venom was way less terrifying now that you saw him bickering with your neighbour. You could almost think he was fun, but it was too early for this. 

But after this, you started to spend even more time with your neighbour. Him and his symbiote, of course. Sometimes, when they were fighting too much, Venom would leave his host to come hide with you for some time. Not too long, because hurting you was the last thing he wanted, but enough to run away from Eddie. The man was never too worried, because he knew exactly where his stupid symbiote was. 

It was a weird dynamic between the three of you, but it was something which was working pretty well. You were spending hours and hours at Eddie’s place to write while he was working on his articles, and Venom would alway complain about how boring it was to have you both working at the same time while he had nothing to do. The symbiote was an attention seeker, you learnt that quickly. 

And when things began to evolve between you and Eddie, you knew Venom would always be implicated too. You didn’t expect to be in a relationship so soon, but even less in a polyamorous thing with a man and an alien. But nothing could go wrong, right? There was absolutely no reason to be worried, or at least it was what you were trying to say to yourself. 

But you were right. It was, actually, even better than what you had imagined. Eddie was the sweetest man you ever met, always taking care of everything for you and making sure you were doing good. It was probably the most safe and sane relationship you ever had, and it was strange to say that. Because Venom was the same, in his way. 

He was a bit clumsy, most of the time, but he was always trying his best. You never felt uncomfortable, even if he could be pretty bold or franc sometimes. It was part of his charm, you had to say. When he started to share his chocolate with you, you knew he was doing the biggest step to someone in his whole life. 

After all, it wasn’t so bad to be living in this shitty apartment.

thank you for reading!

[justchillandshipit]

A Few things to consider...

If we apply Tim's thinking about Buck's situation to Eddie, then Tim could put Eddie in a couple of relationships before his endgame with Buck. I just can't be normal about that. I'm probably the only one who is crazy like this. For Buck, I kind of understand it, and I'm not referring just to Tommy. Buck was with so many women. He really does know that side of himself very well. Buck is curious too, so I could see him dating a few men and maybe another woman without it lasting as long as his time with Tommy. I can see this type of exploration as brief but defining. It will help him narrow down and see what his 'type' might be in regard to men. (We know his type, and his learning will be part of his realization.) I just don't feel that same vibe for Eddie. He is the nester. Maybe he should have a few boyfriends first, but I'm just not reasonable about this so I'm going to let it go for now. I'll puke on that bridge when we get to it.

Side note semi-unrelated: I love a slow burn, but I don't want to wait another three seasons for Buddie either. Please stop the torture.

Things I loved about this episode. Buck. Always. Eddie. Always. lol Seriously, the whole Risky Business moment was golden. Shaving the stache was excellent. His admission that he wanted the full beard but it wasn't allowed and the Priest calling him out as wearing a mask--all of that is just superb. I loved the Buddie of it all. I loved the way Buck seemed to take in Eddie's appearance and then keep his eyes upward as he handed him the beer and walked past him. I loved the way, Eddie didn't hesitate to open the door half-dressed and just accepted that they were drinking tonight without any explanation as to why. Non-Buddie related: I love that Maddie is already pregnant. We don't have to go through a long process of whether they will get a child and be able to keep it the way we did with Henren. Fingers crossed for no miscarriages.

I'm glad Eddie did what the priest suggested as far as doing something fun, but I'm having a little disconnect with how he went from punishing himself to dancing around with no real progression into what brought him to this point. I need to watch it again. I may pick out more on a rewatch. We had parallels in this episode in a big way, but the well seems like a missed opportunity for Eddie to reflect on what happened when he was trapped in one and the decisions he made when he got out of it. We don't generally get two full-character episodes for the same character, do we? We saw Eddie moving forward, but I'm missing the strong motivator that will inspire him to 'Think."

I also need to think about what happened in the restaurant with the girl hitting on Buck. (was this the restaurant Tommy left him standing at before?) What a horrible choice for an anniversary date if it was. lol

Another question: Wasn't there supposed to be a flashback for Eddie in this episode? I know the Bobby/Buck scene got cut. I sort of hate that. I was looking forward to a Father/son moment for them. I do understand that they are limited with time though, so there we go.

Speculation: Eddie is now trying to embrace fun. Buck and Eddie will end up going to bars together at some point, even if Eddie is not looking for a date. We could see Buck in action picking up guys. We could see guys hitting on Eddie. We could see Buck having a reaction to that. We may also see, Buck going to that Laker's game with Eddie after all.

I see I've missed over 100 new posts. I'm betting someone has answered some of my questions already. lol

[dandelion-wings]

Hello! Love your fic and blog. I would love to hear your thoughts on something. There's a thing I sometimes see people say...that like Kaeya should have told Diluc his secret earlier than he did. (And I agree that he should have told him at a different time. And I do think it is generally a good thing that would strengthen their relationship, after they work through it, and it gives Kaeya a confidant.) Idk, it's complicated because I kind of feel like Kaeya doesn't really owe anyone the truth until such a time that he is put in a position of potential or active harm to Mondstadt. But I am generally of the opinion that people are way too harsh on most of the characters that keep secrets, as if that in itself is a moral wrong.

Hmmm. I had to think about this a little, anon, because "should" is such a loaded term here!

I think so much about evaluating his choices here depends on context we simply don't have in canon. Is Kaeya actually in Mondstadt for any malicious reason, or did his father leave him there to protect him in some way (and if so, did he justify it with a false mission to make Kaeya cooperate, or is Kaeya fearing a war that isn't actually likely to come)? If there was a reason, was he an active agent (spy, saboteur, what have you) or a helpless pawn (c.f. this post)? If there was an actual plot, has his loyalty changed and he doesn't have to do anything for Khaenri'ah going forward, or does he fear some kind of secret trigger word or magical control that would make him a danger to Mondstadt no matter what? Is "Khaenri'ah" only the Abyss Order at this point, or are there actual non-Order Khaenri'ahans still around that Alberich Sr. is trying to save? (Or, in between the two, is he on the "save/purify the hilichurls" boat with Caribert, but is taking a different tack than the Order, or working with them only reluctantly?)

An important question for me has always been whether the fanon that Kaeya is "a prince" is true because, if he is, and there is an actual plan, and there are actual Khaenri'ahans this plan was meant to save, then morally speaking I don't think he should have told at all. I tolerate royalty even in my fiction only and exclusively on the premise that they serve their people No Matter What (this is why I still hate Ei >> ), and I would lose all respect for him if those three conditions obtained and he still chose Mondstadt.

But like... my insanely high standards for fictional royalty aside... Kaeya was a kid abandoned in a foreign land. That's the one thing we know for absolute certainty. Even if he was around Diluc's age of eighteen, and even if Mondstadt definitely gives responsibility to kids way younger than in our world, to me that's still a kid. "Should" seems to come with moral judgement here that's pretty harsh, given that, and I say this as someone who does judge Diluc around the same events--but with the same ambivalence, for the same reasons, of him being a kid in a tough spot. (I did not make better decisions re: sibling relationships than either of them at that age, let me put it that way.) Also, honestly, if Kaeya had confessed earlier, I don't think Diluc was the person to initially do it to--leaving aside all moral questions, I think the smart person to tell would have been Crepus, an actual adult who, while not perfect as a parent by any means, I feel likely would have chosen to protect his adopted son from blowback. He almost certainly had the experience as a businessman to control when and how that information was disseminated to any relevant parties, including Diluc himself.

I honestly don't even think Kaeya "owes" anyone the truth even if it does put Mondstadt at risk, though that comes from the premise that he still feels conflicted somewhat (which canon has drifted away from somewhat but I do stubbornly cling to, because it's spicier, and I don't love them blandifying my boy >> ). He gets to make his own choices. And then he gets to deal with whatever consequences fall out for them! And honestly, while I feel like the morality of secret-keeping in the real world depends very much on the secrets and their impacts, and can often go horribly wrong, in fiction it leads to some of my favorite kinds of narrative drama. So I guess that's my takeaway!

[paverics]

I went and found every single (I think) wlw movie or tv show listed on tubi. there are….lots, and probably still some that I missed. so join me as I list them

eva + candela, twin flame, blood beach betrayal, killer body count, lowlifes, three, kiss me, walk with me, adan, lip service, I can’t think straight, girl trash all night long, the affair, the sweetest kiss, my days of mercy, my first girl crush, good kisser, a song of a girl, flunk, anatomy of a love seen, my new girl crush, concerto for abigail, who am I now?, snapshots, stuff, a place we go to, her side of the bed, t11 incomplete, lockdown lovers, nina, claire of the moon, my last girl crush, looking for her, my normal, a flower box for rosie, girls like magic, me myself and her, august at twenty two, writing kim, the feels, the light touch, all about e, girl place, ellie and abbie and ellie's dead aunt, cry folx, wynonna earp vengence, but I’m a cheerleader, liberty’s secret, castaways, the miseducation of cameron post, sister my sister, you me her, professor Marston and the wonder women, clementine, boy meets girl, the secrets, princess cyd, the chambermaid Lynn, Christmas with love, waiting amber, the truth about Jane, moonlit winter, dawn her dad and the tractor, the last conception, losing chase, turned out, x, twisted marriage therapist, love augmented, trifecta, alliance, wish, the adored, the white book, orange blossoms, more than friends, the guest house, an unexpected love, palitan, you will be mine, between us, elena undone, a perfect ending, the girl king, seeking dolly parton, carmilla, seventeen, liz in september, the space between words,

for the record, most of these….are really bad. some of them are even downright fucking horrendous. but there’s lots of them. and they’re free. i said it before and i’ll say it again, tubi has the biggest range of wlw options i’ve ever seen. so in no particular order here are the ones I have seen and personally recommend:

dating amber: the ultimate mlm and wlw solidarity movie. gay irish teams beard each other. it’s a coming of age self discovery style movie

the truth about jane: very classic wlw movie. this probably saved lives and I mean that in the most genuine “representation matters” kind of way

boy meets girl: bisexual love triangle movies piss me off because usually there’s a clear choice, like one is an obvious piece of shit and the other is an angel but they still make ~the choice~ a big deal. — this one isn’t like that. I genuinely like all 3 of them, which is nice. the wlw part doesn’t really go anywhere on either side because they both end with men, but it’s a nice movie regardless

clementine: plot is bad. script is bad. sydney sweeney kisses a woman. 10/10

professor marston and the wonder women: guy who made wonder woman was a little freak and his two female partners continued living together and raising their kids after his death allegedly as partners but some have since come out and denied that they were in an intimate relationship

the miseducation of cameron post: gay conversion therapy but you can’t stop gay thoughts. good but depressing as hell

castaways: if you can ignore the vocal fry and the fact that this kind of has 2 separate movie plots jammed into one for some reason (apocalypse vs stranded on a desert island) then it’s actually pretty enjoyable. the first 50 minutes or so is sweet and romantic but then a man rocks up and quite literally ruins the safety, tranquility and most importantly the vibes

liberty’s secret: I’ll give you $5 if you can guess what secret liberty is keeping. full disclosure, this movie is a musical. I didn’t realise this when I first saw it and it took me longer than you’d think before I clocked it. after the third musical number, I got suspicious, and then I nearly pissed my pants laughing. preacher’s daughter goes on a political tour for republican party but the republican pr manager is a lesbian democrat. is it good? no. I only put in this section because of how much I enjoyed myself laughing at it being musical

but I’m a cheerleader: i don’t need to say anything. absolute classic. 10/10 no notes

wynonna earp vengence: i actually haven’t seen this and I stopped watching when xavier left. that’s right, baby. I wanted the straights only. I loved them and it hurt when my boy left. it’s probably ok though. I don’t know. people like it

all about e: it’s silly. it’s harmless. it’s kinda funny. there are bad movies in that list above and yes this is one of them, but it could have been worse

looking for her: it’s a christmas movie. gag, I know. this one isn’t that bad though. if my memory is right, it’s a fake dating christmas lesbian movie that ends happily. it’s fine

who am I now?: if good luck babe were a movie, I guess. almost drove me insane because the actors look familiar in ways I can’t explain but their imbd page is empty. anyway, whatever. sometimes you don’t know who you are and that’s fine but then by the time you figure it out, it’s too late. that’s fine too. life is a journey

girl trash all night long: this is the second musical on the list but shut up. I will physically fight any person with a bad thing to say about this. there’s a weirdly high number of actors who were also in the l word, for some reason? I don’t know why. anyway mandy Musgrave and Gabrielle christian were in the fucking trenches for lesbians and bisexuals before your faves ever were, before you were born, they were throwing bricks at stonewall babe. if you head south of nowhere then you arrive at thank you very much for your service ladies. I will put respect on your names even if nobody else does

I can’t think straight: another classic. I haven’t seen it for a long time but I remember it being more political than I originally remembered, but I was basically a kid when I watched it for the first time. most of the women in this movie are awful, whereas the men are wonderful, which is an unexpected turn.

lip service: once upon a time, the british tried to make our own version of the l word. it was somehow even worse. I’m only putting it on this list because I remember being 14 and sneaking it on the tv late at night when my parents were out. it only lasted 12 episodes in total before they binned it

kiss me: technically it’s not incest but if you have to start a sentence like that then it’s not going great. they’re adults. their parents are about to get married. they fall in love. I don’t know why one couldn’t have been like….a cousin’s neighbour instead

lowlifes: “i’d rather eat pussy than people,” says the girl who does both. is this movie good? no but also yes. it has my favourite line out of any movie ever and the whole coming out scene dialogue is just so great. does someone die? don’t ask me that again. it’s fun, it’s violent, it’s camp, it’s twisty and the acting is better than you’d expect it to be

If tubi has a million fans, I am one of them

If tubi has no fans, I am dead

If the world is against tubi, I am against the world