#there's So Much I want to write and I have tragically little time and energy

[lamortwrites]

Hit a nice round scary big number of kudos on ao3 so I'm gonna be sappy for a min. I fucking loved writing as a kid -- I wanted to be an author, bc ofc I did -- and I wrote ceaselessly, hundreds of thousands of words, both fanfic and original stuff. I would cram folded bits of plain paper in my pockets and write in tiny tiny handwriting on each side (bc you can fit so much more on the available space that way!) and I'd type in the shitty notes app of my cheap shitty smartphone once I got one and I went through countless notebooks and refill pads and what have you. Sixth form was very bad for me mental health wise and I burnt out really hard, and for a very very long time after I thought that was it. I couldn't get more than a handful of paragraphs done on something, at best, and I wasn't really happy with anything I was doing.

And then I played through a video game as a murderous demigod overflowing with religious guilt and, well, here we are. According to ao3 I have published 37.2k words in the past eight months -- not a whole lot, esp by other people's standards, but for me that is a staggering amount, esp for someone who has struggled a lot w writing anything at all for the past eight years.

I've never really been active in a fandom before (not that I really am now, I stay in my lil corner and you cannot make me leave) but I have made so many incredible friends over the past few months and I am so, so grateful to know you all.

To everyone who has liked my fics, thank you. To everyone who has commented, thank you. To everyone who has talked to me about my writing, about Labrys, about anything...I really cannot thank you enough. Things are still not great for me, honestly. But knowing that there people out there who enjoy my writing is wild, and I am so, so grateful to all of you. <3

[ro-is-struggling]

Secret Encounters || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: They know it's wrong, but they can't deny the desire and lust that overcomes them every time they are together.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn with a little bit of plot (not really), fingering, penetrative sex, mirror sex, rough sex, size kink, belly bulge, breeding kink, dirty talk, mentions of cheating (reader is engaged), fem reader (she’s a princess)

English is not my first language

Word count: 3900

Notes: I promise I'll stop writing tragic princess x witcher stories after this one. Also, sorry for the shitty summary but it's only smut so it was kinda hard to come up with something lol

Geralt had never been fond of royalty, but the moment his eyes fell on hers he knew she was different. He didn't really understand why, but he felt some type of way whenever she was near. Her perfume was intoxicating, a sweet scent that lingered on his clothes and skin and accompanied him wherever he went. He could not escape her even when he wandered alone through the forest in search of the beast he had been hired to kill... not even when he was lying in his bed at night, surrounded by the darkness of the room as he tried to rest. Her scent enveloped him at all times, awakening something deep inside him. It drove him crazy, crazy enough to act on his desires. 

He knew it was wrong, it was inappropriate to take advantage of the king's hospitality like that. And she knew it was wrong too, she was a princess soon to be married, a woman of high value who had no business with a witcher like Geralt. And yet, neither seemed to be able to stay away from the other. It was as if there was some kind of energy force pulling them together, the very will of destiny imposing itself over their own. When Geralt showed up at her chambers she knew she should have turned him away. No matter how much she had been longing for him to take her in his arms and make her his, the right thing to do was to reject him and move on with her life. In fact, she had opened the door with the intention of doing exactly that, but when her eyes met the imposing figure of the witcher, towering over her as his amber eyes admired her face, she could not resist the temptation. She gave in to her desires, crashing her lips against his in a desperate kiss as she slowly pulled him into her room.

The feel of his touch lingered on her body for days, her skin permanently marked by the roughness of his caresses and the warm wetness of his mouth. The sound of his grunts of pleasure as he buried himself in her echoed in her mind at all times. He was all she could think about. She knew it was wrong, but she needed to feel his hands on her body again, exploring every inch of her skin as he showed her pleasure like no other man could.

Despite their desperation, they were able to keep their hands off each other for a while. Though all their self-control disappeared by the time of Geralt's last day in the castle. After slaying the beast —and collecting his reward— the witcher was ready to leave when the king made him an offer he couldn't resist. There would be a feast in celebration of the fall of the creature that had terrorized the town and Geralt, as their savior, was the guest of honor. He would normally have declined the offer, although the promise of free food and alcohol sounded enticing, he hated the idea of being stuck with a bunch of drunken noblemen. However, this time it gave him the perfect excuse to stay there a while longer and say goodbye to the princess the right way —the way he knew they had both been fantasizing about since their last encounter.

The party quickly turned into a game of cat and mouse, defiant yellow eyes meeting hers in the crowd, admiring her lips as she laughed and the way her body moved as she danced. She was doing it on purpose, accepting the proposals of all the knights who bowed in front of her to provoke him. She wanted to spark a reaction in him, see how far she could push him, how far she could push the boundaries of their secret relationship. The thought of being caught filled her body with adrenaline, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that he could almost hear it over the noise of the party.

She waited for the right moment and took advantage of the first distraction to escape to her bedroom. Her eyes met Geralt's before disappearing behind the side door of the great hall, her desire-laden expression a silent plea for him to follow her. She sat in front of the large mirror in her room waiting for him, removing the jewelry from her hair and combing her hair without any haste. And just as she expected, only a few minutes after her arrival, she felt the sound of the door's wood creaking as it opened. She saw Geralt lock the door behind him in the reflection of the mirror and she had to hold back the smile that wanted to form on her lips —a failed attempt to save some of her decency and not look so desperate.

"You're not supposed to be here." She said as if his presence didn't make her heart race. "It's wrong."

"That's not what you said the other night." Geralt's deep voice was music to her ears, his slightly mocking tone awakening that tingle under her skin. He walked up to her, holding her gaze in the mirror as if challenging her. He stood tall at her back, close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but not close enough to feel the brush of his hands on her skin. 

"The other night was a mistake." She affirmed, setting the comb aside. It was true, their furtive encounter, though pleasurable, had been a mistake. But they both knew well that neither really cared. The desire they felt, the tension in the air, it was all too much, it clouded their thinking leaving them at the mercy of their most primitive feelings. 

Geralt reached out his hands to her, brushing her hair aside so he could caress her skin. He noticed how she stifled a sigh through the reflection of the mirror, his warm touch awakening that flame within her. His fingers moved gently across her shoulders, up her neck until they reached her cheeks. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, losing herself in the moment. It felt just as she remembered it, warm and hard, yet strangely soft and comforting at the same time. It was as if his hands had never left her skin, as if his caresses were permanently carved into her body.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" he said, his voice barely a raspy whisper. He knew the answer to her question, he could read it on her face, smell it in the air, feel it in the vein in her neck that throbbed rapidly beneath his fingers. But still, he needed to be sure he was right, hear from her lips the plea for his caresses. He needed to know that she was as desperate as he was.

She didn't give him a verbal response, just rose from her seat and pressed her lips to his. Geralt's hands closed around her waist, pulling her body against his as he quickly took control of the kiss. She didn't bother fighting for dominance, acknowledging her subordination to him almost immediately. She didn't need to win, she just needed to feel his hands on her skin again, gripping and caressing every inch of her body in a rush of pleasure until the early morning sun forced them apart.

There was nothing tender and soft about the way Geralt's lips attacked hers, only lust and desperation, but she loved every part of it. She loved the way his tongue invaded her mouth and how his teeth nibbled at her lips before moving his wet kisses down her neck, sucking and biting at the skin without fear of leaving marks. He knew he could do whatever he wanted with her as she was completely at his mercy, surrendered to the pleasure only he could give her. She didn't care if she had to spend the next week finding creative ways to hide the evidence of their furtive encounter, she just needed to feel him. She wanted him to mark her, to declare ownership over her body. She knew she belonged to him, always would, even if she never saw him again after tonight.

Clothes soon became a problem, a barrier that kept them apart, so desperate hands worked carelessly to fix it. Her dress was the first to go, the expensive fabric pooling around her feet leaving her naked body completely exposed to Geralt's hungry gaze. She should have been embarrassed, but nothing but lust and anticipation pumped through her veins. He was looking at her as if she were the most beautiful and sensual woman he had ever seen, as if she were a goddess he had the privilege of pleasing. Never before had anyone looked at her in that way, so intense, so filled with adoration. She loved it, it made her feel special, powerful. 

Geralt didn't waste a second, calloused fingers caressing every inch of exposed skin. It awakened a fire inside her, a tingling that spread throughout her body, concentrating on her core. His teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin of her neck, sinking his canines into her as his hands moved down to her breasts, earning a couple of sighs from the princess as he showed attention to her nipples erect with anticipation. He smiled against her neck, proud of himself as the scent of her arousal lingered in the air. It was an intoxicating scent, the sweet forbidden fruit begging him to take it.

When his fingers slipped between her wet folds, she let out a moan of pleasure as her grip on the witcher's shoulders tightened. It was as beautiful as he remembered, a harmonious melody traveling through him and going straight to his cock. It was the sound of temptation, of lust, urging him to carry on, to forget all rules of morality and decorum and take what was his.

“P-please, Geralt.” She pleaded against his lips. Her breathing was rapid and she looked up at him through half-closed eyelids. He slipped two of his fingers inside her with ease, pushing them as deep as he could and moving them until he made her moan. She looked so beautiful like this, her eyes closed in pleasure and her parted lips releasing those beautiful desperate sighs, completely at his mercy.It was an image that would stay in Geralt's mind for quite some time. 

"I know, I know," he soothed her, his free hand coming up to caress her cheek. "I have to get you ready for me."

"I-I need to feel you, p-please." She whimpered in a pathetic, desperate attempt to get him to do what she wanted. She needed to feel all of him, his hot skin pressed against hers, his fingernails sinking into the skin of her hips as he buried his cock deep inside her, his ragged breaths in the hollow of her neck. She needed him as much as she needed the air she breathed and could wait no longer.

Thankfully he took pity on her, removing his hands from her body to unbutton his pants. She suppressed the whimper that wanted to escape her throat as she felt empty without his fingers inside her, knowing the sensation would not last for long. Geralt instructed her to turn over and her body obeyed him before she could process his words or wonder what he was up to. Her body no longer belonged to her, it belonged to him and always would.

He held her against his chest for a moment, one hand roaming her body while the other held her head steady facing forward. She could feel his hard member pressed against her lower back as his heat enveloped her completely. Their gazes met in the mirror once more and she saw the darkness of desire staining the beautiful yellow orbs. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent before lowering his lips to her ear.

"I want you to look at yourself in the mirror as I fuck you, princess." Geralt whispered in her ear, his voice firm and slightly deeper than normal. His eyes never left hers in the mirror, studying her reaction in the reflection. "I want you to see how beautiful you look with your face scrunched up in pleasure so you'll remember it after I'm gone and your future husband can't make you feel this good."

He gave her no warning before pushing his hard cock into her tight wet hole, and he wasn't gentle either. A quick thrust of his hips and he was balls deep inside her as her velvety walls struggled to take him. Geralt was big, it was almost hard for him to fully fit inside her despite how aroused she was. But it wasn't painful, not in a bad way at least. She loved the way his cock stretched her, almost impaling her on it when it was all the way in. The burning only added to her pleasure, the knot in her belly tightening with the promise of her orgasm.

Geralt set a fast, torturous pace, earning a string of incoherent moans each time he touched that special place deep inside her. She could feel him twitching inside her as her walls closed around him, desperate to hold him in place. It was almost too much and not enough at the same time, a mixture of feelings born of her need for relief. The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with her cries of pleasure and Geralt's grunts filled the room. It was loud and she wouldn't be surprised if she discovered that someone passing through the corridor could hear them, but she didn't care. She felt too good to worry about anything else.

The pleasure she felt was so intense that she had trouble keeping her eyes open, her heavy eyelids closing involuntarily against the force of Geralt's thrusts. But each time she did, he tightened his grip on her jaw, growling in her ear for her to open them. The image reflected in the mirrored surface was too much for her to take. Her small figure wrapped in the strong arms of her lover towering over her and making her feel even smaller and more insignificant. The bulge forming in her lower belly with each thrust showed just how deep inside her Geralt was. His teeth on her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin without taking his intense gaze away from her eyes in the mirror. And finally, her face, with parted lips letting out a string of melodious moans, and glassy eyes filled with tears that threatened to escape at the sheer intensity of what she was feeling. The expression of pure pleasure on her face was one she had never seen on her before  —and she feared that after tonight she would never see it again.

It was all too much for her, and the possessive way Geralt was acting didn't help her in the slightest. He was determined to leave a mark on her, both physically and mentally. He wanted her to see traces of him on her own skin after he was gone, but he also wanted to make sure she remembered him. Make sure she remembered the intensity of the moment and the way he had made her feel. He wanted her to think of him every time her future husband left her unsatisfied, touching herself to relieve the pressure inside her as images of him in this very moment flashed through her mind. 

He made sure to let her know his intentions between grunts of pleasure, feeling her walls close around his member with every word that left his lips. She liked it as much as he did and that only egged him on.

"Geralt, please," she begged, not quite sure of what it was she was asking of him. Please stop because the pleasure traveling through my veins is too much to bear? Please keep going and don't stop until I'm passed out from exhaustion and you've ruined me for the rest of the men? She wasn't sure, both options were equally valid.

"I know... just let go," he encouraged her, his warm breath crashing against the skin of her ear as he spoke. "Just let go for me, princess."

Her body took his words as a command and it wasn't long before the knot in her belly snapped, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her insides. Her orgasm hit her like a pile of bricks, leaving her completely stupid. Geralt's name escaped her lips like a prayer as she lost herself in pleasure. All thought left her mind, she could only feel as her lover's thrusts slowed, her body trembling in his arms from overstimulation.

She only had a couple of seconds to recover, whining as she felt empty when Geralt pulled away from her momentarily. Her legs were weak and she struggled to stand, so he took her in his arms and laid her down on the bed carefully. He settled into the space between her legs, taking a moment to admire her and caress her body before continuing. His hands ran over her warm, sweat-covered skin in an almost gentle way, an act that contrasted with the roughness of his behavior so far but was nonetheless welcomed by her.

The tenderness didn't last long, though, because once he slid his cock inside her once more, he returned to the animalistic grunts and punishing rhythm of his thrusts. This time it was more desperate and erratic, letting her know that he was close to his own orgasm. His cock twitched inside her, threatening to paint her velvety walls with his seed. The very idea was enough to have her on the edge again. 

"You feel me, princess?" He said, taking one of her hands and bringing it down to her lower belly. He pressed it against her skin, trapping it between his palm and the bulge forming there from his cock. It added a new sensation and she couldn't contain the moan that escaped her throat. "Feel how deep inside of you I am?

"Fuck," she cursed, eyes rolling back as her free hand clutched at Geralt's wrist to make sure he didn't move it off her belly. The pressure felt too good, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her with a force that left her breathless.

"I'm the only one who gets is deep, f-fuck, the only one who makes you feel this way." He wasn't asking, it was a clear statement, but still she nodded, letting out repeated affirmations between high-pitched moans.

"I belong to you... My body is forever yours, no one will ever make me feel this good." The animalistic growl he let out at those words almost pushed her over the edge, leaving her on the verge of her second orgasm. She knew he was close too, she could feel it in his erratic thrusts and the way his cock twitched inside her. She needed to feel him come undone for her, to paint her walls white as he emptied his seed inside her. She needed him to mark her, to claim her as his own. They both knew a relationship between them was impossible, but she would always be his in secret. Her body would always miss him.

"Please, I need to feel you." She managed to say between moans and ragged breaths. "I need you to fill me up, please." She sounded pathetic at this point, but she didn't care. All she cared about was feeling Geralt's seed trickling down her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. 

The witcher groaned, a cocky smile playing on his lips. One of his hands flew to the headboard of the bed, the wood creaking under his strong grip as he adjusted his position. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper —if that was even possible—, impaling her on his cock as she cried out in pleasure. Her nails dug into his back, leaving traces of red marks on his skin.

"You're desperate for it, aren't you?" he teased her arrogantly. "Don't worry, princess, I'm gonna shoot my seed so deep inside of you that you'll carry it for days. Is that what you want? You want me to mark you as mine? You want to feel me between your legs while you swear loyalty to your husband?"

"Yes! Fuck, Geralt, please... mark me, claim me as yours, please." 

The witcher did not expect to find it so erotic to hear her admit her deepest desires, but he did. It awakened something inside him, a primal desire that took over his body. He became an animal, a fierce, possessive wolf that was desperate for some relief. After all, that was exactly what their relationship was, pure animal instinct, pure lust and desperation. An intense attraction they couldn't resist even when they knew how wrong it was.

He came with a loud grunt, emptying his load inside her warm, tight walls. She felt every drop of it, her cunt filled to the brim with his desire for her. The intensity of his orgasm triggered hers, her body trembling under Geralt's weight, her walls tightening around his cock, milking him for everything he had. His name fell from her lips as pleasure consumed her, a prayer begging him to stay with her. He knew it was impossible, but in that moment - mind clouded with pleasure as he felt her crumbling beneath him - he really considered it. He wanted to feel her body against his again, hear the sound of her voice as she moaned his name outside of his memories. He needed her.

But that was just a fantasy, the desire for the impossible. She was a princess who was soon to be married and he was a witcher who had nothing to do with the court and royal affairs. She was not his —even if her body was— and he was not hers. And that was the hard truth. So when he came to his senses he rose from his place on the bed, where he rested with her beside him. The princess watched him as he dressed, trying to ignore the strange feeling of emptiness that came over her at the thought that once he crossed the threshold of the door she would never see him again.

"Will I ever see you again?" She asked in a whisper, as if afraid of being heard. Geralt admired her naked figure on the bed as he contemplated his answer, liking the way the dim candlelight illuminated her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. As wrong as it was, he would really like to see her again, but the truth was he didn't know if it would happen. The future was uncertain, especially in his line of work, so to give her a straight answer would be to lie to her.

"Only time will tell."

[hearts-are-connected]

Dang it, I love this ship and I love the enemies to lovers trope. I get that a lot of people see them as a surrogate father and daughter relationship, but it feels like a been there/done that kinda thing.

As much as I love that trope, I'm also a little tired of it. There's only so much Last of Us style found family I take after seeing it for so many years.

The thing I love about VaultGhoul or Ghoulcy is the idea of Lucy breaking down of Cooper's walls while he helps build hers up.

Is he incredibly cruel to her and those around him in the first season? Yes, extremely

Does he need to chill out and find some of his humanity that's been buried under 200+ years of wasteland survival and bitterness? Yes

Who can bring that needed direction to his life while learning the ways of the new world she finds herself in? Lucy MacLean

I know that the canon ship of the show at this moment is Lucy and Maximus, and as much as I love him, I find the pairing obvious and kind of boring from a story telling perspective. I loved it on my first viewing, but upon re-watching the series, I wasn't as behind it as before. I see their relationship, kiss and all, as a kind of first fling for the both of them.

While it doesn't diminish the care they show one another, there's not a lot behind them as a couple. Now I know that some people might turn around to say how she and Cooper spent less time together than her and Max, but I guess the thing I look forward to is seeing what their relationship brings with the second season.

I feel like Max and Lucy will have a great friendship and I'm interested to see where the Brotherhood fits into their dynamic as well.

With Cooper though, I find his story so tragic, as it's supposed to be. He's your standard hardened survivor who only looks out for himself that's now stuck with the happy-go-lucky main character, however, she's not that character anymore by the end. She's still going to be the Lucy we love, but she's changed by the end. While not losing her compassion and some optimism, I think Cooper is going to bring out a harsher side to her as we saw when she bit off his finger.

I want to see her building up her walls and learning when to let them down. How to truly survive while still bringing her own energy to the wasteland and people around her. I want to see Cooper regaining some lost humanity while learning to truly care for another person again. To see the two of them as eventual equals in one another's eyes as they continue on their journey as reluctant allies.

I also want to say that I'm personally kind of tired of the 'age gap' argument. We have stories of teenagers falling in love with hundred year old vampires. So can we just drop the age gap thing?

As long as they're both consenting adults who understand what they're getting themselves into, who cares about an age gap.

Does it truly matter in the scheme of things when we're talking about a world with cryo-stasis and super mutants?

I personally don't think so.

I don't know if anyone will even bother reading this entire thing, and I know I went on a little long, but I wanted to write down my thoughts on the whole shipping situation with the Fallout TV show fandom at this moment.

I'm a VaultGhoul shipper and I can't wait to see where the second season takes our main trio of characters.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Tell me all about Jegulus

sigh, my BABIES

okay so James Potter is of course Harry Potter's dad. Regulus Black is Sirius Black's little brother. (Sirius Black, James Potter's best friend, Harry Potter's godfather, Azkaban escapee.)

Regulus is a badass. Why? I'm so glad you asked. Well, at age 18, he realized Voldemort was Up To No Good with his Horcruxes and stole one and tried to destroy it but tragically died.

Here's the thing. Regulus and James are like fucking Romeo and Juliet. Why? I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. They are from Slytherin and Gryffindor. Opposite sides of the war. Raised by completely different families. Black cat and golden retriever energy. But fuck, they work so well.

Because Regulus is good. Like canonically, he tries to defeat Voldemort. But he's raised in a family that would (and like...indirectly did) kill him if he defected from Voldemort's side. And he's sad, and a bit lost, and like...tortured writer vibes. And James just wants to LOVE. And Reggie NEEDS THAT. And like...UGH they're so perfect. Because James would make sure Regulus wasn't forced to be on the wrong side of the war. And Regulus, for his part, wouldn't expect James to be his normally cheery self all the time. He would let him let his guard down and be sad.

But they're tragic because, like Romeo and Juliet, they have too much going against them. So fate always pulls the apart, and it's AWFUL. So like...it's sad. Because they can't be.

Unless you're me, and you write AUs and give them the happy ending they deserve.

(Guys feel free to add to this)

[buzzcutlip]

What You Can't Bury Give Away - NY!Carmen Carmen x Fem!Reader Explicit! 2257 words

A/N This was supposed to be a drabble - haha! I don't know what is it now. Have some sad NY!Carmy after he finds out Michael's died and how he deals with leaving NY (not in a great way but excuse his broken little soul). I know I said I wanted to write Copenhagen!Carmy, so that one's coming too eventually.

When you open the door for Carmen and see him after, like, three weeks, you almost flinch. He’s always looked tired and worn out—while also attractive and weirdly hot—but today he looks particularly bad. Dreadful. His eyes are red, the bags underneath them grayish. It’s obvious that he hasn’t washed his hair in days. He looks as tragic as you feel.

“Hi,” you say tentatively, unsure if he wants to address the reason why he’s here.

Carmy only nods, eyes trained on you, even as he takes his denim trucker jacket off. You hang it on the only free, wonky peg on the wall, feeling him follow your movements all the while. Undoubtedly, it makes you antsy and uncomfortable. You’re not used to guys’ attention. You’re not used to attention from guys you like at all.

When you turn around and find him staring, you sigh. The jumper he’s wearing hangs loosely on his body, the sleeves too long. The navy blue color highlights the paleness of his face, the hollow cheeks.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Carmy opens his mouth to say something smart, probably, but you’re faster: “Ate a proper meal,” you clarify, propping your hands on your hips. You’re trying to act stern, babying him a little without making him seem like a baby. It’s the last time you’re seeing him, probably.

“I dunno,” he admits quietly, impatiently. He thumbs his bottom lip, scratches his head. He’s all sorts of jittery energy turned into a human being. You don’t know him like this.

“I can cook some pasta,” you offer. The idea is absolutely disproportionate to the situation, you think hysterically, as you turn to walk to the kitchen cabinets. “I’m actually a pretty good cook, you know,” you say just to fill in the space, afraid of the silence that might provoke unwise happenings.

As you reach the pack of fusilli, you feel him stand directly behind you. You exhale sharply. Something unwise is already happening. Settling the pasta on the counter, you turn around.

“I—” but before you manage to get out a single word, Carmy’s mouth is on yours, and he’s kissing you. Of course, it doesn’t take much for you to reciprocate. You kiss him back, hands squeezing his biceps, enjoying the thickness and how strong his arms feel.

“Don’t you think this is a bad idea?” you say as Carmen crowds you against the kitchen counter.

“I don’t—think. I don’t want to think,” he stutters out, grabbing at your waist and squeezing.

“But we’re adults, Berzatto,” you stand your ground even though your hands find their way into Carmy’s hair without much thought, “and thinking about our actions is the annoying part of adulthood,” you explain, and when Carmen kisses your jaw, you feel your determination slipping.

You met Carmen a couple of months ago and saw each other like four times. Apparently, he works in a restaurant, and you know that people in hospitality have crazy work schedules and practically no free time. Or social life. Carmen is proof of all that—he doesn’t talk much, doesn’t ask many questions. There are silly tattoos on his hands and scars—some looking fresh and painful. You never confront him about them, never look too long.

He didn’t have to tell you that he’s leaving, you know. If he didn’t, he would just be another boy who disappeared from your life quietly. And you wouldn’t blame him. You’re not a particularly interesting person. Rather dull, some member of your immediate family would say.

“Have you been drinking?” you check as you dodge another kiss. Carmen doesn’t ask questions, but suddenly you do—way too many, you can see the annoyance on his face, as you shrug him off of you, reluctant.

Carmen looks at you, all serious. “I don’t drink.”

“I know. I’m just asking,” you shrug. “Trying to find out what’s gotten into you.”

Because the second time you were with him, on some well-hidden, tourist-less rooftop bar, you drinking bottled beer and him Coke, laying next to each other on loungers—you touched him casually a couple of times while talking shit about your office work and annoying colleagues and canteen coffee that tastes like burnt water. Those fleeting touches that can be easily excused. You were testing the waters. And Carmy didn’t budge. He even laughed when you told him “your hands are pretty large,” let you press your palms together to see the size difference that lit up a flame in your lower belly. Fuck, the lamest trick, and he ate it all up, clueless. He even walked you home after that. For twenty minutes, your stomach was in twists with anticipation. You even considered fucking without a condom because you knew you had none at home, and Carmy didn’t look like the type who would carry one in his wallet. However, when you arrived at your apartment building, Carmen said “goodnight,” waved at you awkwardly, and left, cigarette in hand. That’s how you know the attraction was one-sided.

It makes the current event even more weird.

“You know, I was trying to let you know I liked you,” you say nonchalantly, biting your lip. “I even did that thing with hands.”

“What thing with hands?”

“Where we measure our hands,” duh.

“Oh. I didn’t know it was a thing.”

You stare at him for a moment.

“It was basically an invitation to fuck me, Carmen.”

He stares, then squeezes your waist. “Oh yeah?”

‘Oh,’ you think. This sounds very much like another invitation, doesn’t it? And Carmy takes it, and this time, you let him.

“Oh my god, Carmy,” you gasp when he gets down on his knees for you, and you don’t have any idea that they only call him Carmy at home, that no one in New York ever calls him that. He freezes for a moment, but you don’t catch that, too lost in the idea of having him for yourself, finally.

He pulls down your baby blue sleeping shorts along with your panties, revealing tan lines—the stark contrast of the untouched, milky skin of your crotch and the darker shade of your legs. You worked hard for that stupid tan, taking a week off in March to go to Hawaii, splashing a disgusting amount of money on the vacation, desperate to get away from New York, from your office, to get some warmth. He should congratulate you on your efforts, really, being the first man to see you like this. You hate baking in the direct sun.

But Carm doesn’t say anything, just lowers down, getting hold of your hips, licking along the crease between your thigh and crotch. You’re not smooth down there. You haven’t shaved in a while, and the growing hairs must prickle his tongue. He doesn’t protest though, only grunts and licks more, then kisses your pussy, sucking the lips into his mouth, making loud, obscene noises. He’s desperate but very strategic.

His hands feel huge, cupping your pelvis, fingers digging into the flesh. You grip the countertop behind you to keep your balance as Carmen sticks two fingers into you unceremoniously. You yelp, shucking off your shorts and underwear jerkily all the way down. He helps you one-handed, looks up to check on you. You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from making more embarrassing noises, while Carmen throws the clothes somewhere behind himself and goes back to eating you out while fingerfucking you.

He is frantic but good, concentrating only on you. He stares up right into your eyes, not even blinking, as he sucks your clit. It should not be allowed, you think briefly, for sad, strange boys to make you feel this good, practically against your own volition. It’s always cold in your apartment, more so in the winter, but you’re on fire now.

Carmen’s still dressed in his clothes, and you’re wearing your t-shirt and an old, faded hoodie, white thick socks on your feet. Neither of you cares too much about it as you focus on each other. You dare to touch one of your hands to Carm’s wild curls, and he hums against you, getting ahold of your ankle without stopping what he’s doing with his clever mouth, propping it against his shoulder. He helps you adjust your stance, and you moan loudly as he reaches deeper into you with the changed position.

“Please,” you whisper, head tipped back in pleasure, holding onto the counter one-handed for dear life.

That’s when Carmen chooses to stop, and you look down at him sharply, half-mad with want, watching his wet mouth kiss your ankle just above where your sock ends, then higher up along the inside of your leg, the side of your knee. His eyes are closed and he seems lost in his head, holding your ankle steady on his shoulder and continuing up, up, up. It makes your chest ache for a fleeting moment. Then, out of nowhere, Carmen bares his teeth and sets them into the meat of your inner thigh. You yelp at the sharp pain, jumping up so your head connects with the cabinet behind you with a loud noise.

“Fuck!” you swear, thinking of literally kicking Carmen as your leg is conveniently positioned near his head.

“Careful,” he says instead of ‘sorry’, and bites you again. You inhale to shout something nastier, but then he presses his thumb to your clit and the pain, added to the pleasure, creates a mixture so delicious that your vision blacks out for a moment. Once it clears, you spot Carmy between your legs, his eyes glazed and fixed on what his thumb is doing to you, all frowny in concentration.

“You alright?” he asks as he feels your gaze on him. As you nod and add a breathless ‘yeah’, he bites you again, this time on your other thigh. You jerk every single time he does that, but not from the pain. No, you seek more friction with your pelvis, hoping to make him press his thumb down harder against you. Of course, Carmen, as smart as he is, catches on soon. The next time you lift your hips up, he simply pushes his fingers back into your dripping cunt again, and from then it’s a quick undoing for you. 

You ride Carmy’s fingers, chasing the pressure both inside and on your clit, enjoying the pleasure-pain his mouth is eliciting. Just before you come, you dare to look down, and the sight of bright bruises blooming red like peonies on your skin is what tips you over the edge.  

You barely manage to kiss him back as he stands up between your legs, disoriented and shaky from just orgasming. You’re clumsy with it—teeth clicking and lips landing off-center. Before you can properly catch your breath, Carmen’s turning you around so you face the tiled wall, pushing you against the counter, and this time you mind the cabinets above your head.  

“You did so good f’me,” Carmy says against your ear, sending violent shivers down your spine. His large hand cradles your jaw, and Carmy kisses behind your ear and down the side of your neck, holding your head tilted to have better access to your burning skin. He’s frantic, breathing raggedly, pulling the neck of your jumper to lick at the vertebrae protruding at your sensitive nape. 

Trying to take your arms out of the sleeves to get rid of the jumper is harder than you thought as you get distracted by Carm absolutely ignoring your efforts when he slips one of his rough palms under the clothes, up your tummy to your chest. 

“Can I—can I touch your tits?” he asks hoarsely while still holding your head in position. You consent and stop trying to help him out, dropping your head back to rest on his shoulder. 

Carmen fucks you like that, from behind, all desperate and urgent. The noises he makes are almost like quiet sobs, which alarm you slightly, but then you forget everything when you start feeling you might come again. You don’t, but as soon as Carmen feels he might, he slips out and you spin around to face him. 

Without any room for making this cute, you spit in your palm and grip his cock, all dark red and throbbing, while Carmen fists your jumper, holding you close and watching open-mouthed as you jerk him off. When he comes you’re almost sure he’s gonna bite through his bottom lip from how hard he’s biting on it. He lets you stroke him for long moments after that, even though he’s shaking all over, overstimulated. You love watching his tummy muscles jump every time you squeeze at the head, dragging more delicious, wrecked sounds out of him. 

Afterward, Carmen’s awfully flushed in the face, eyes glistening. He asks where the bathroom is and stays there for ten long minutes. Or so. You’re not timing it. You cook the stupid pasta, even though you’re lazy, and feed him. The atmosphere’s charged with something unspoken, and as much as you want to ask what his plans are after he leaves New York, you don’t. 

After the meal, Carm doesn’t linger. He puts his jacket on, pecks your cheek, and leaves without looking back.

Oh, so that was a pity fuck, you realize with much disdain when you’re lying in your bed. Only—you’re not sure who pitied whom there.

He will never know how much you cried that night.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

can you please please please please pleeeeease write smth super angsty with comfort with changbin 🫂

Cramping up.

Warning: Angst, blood, periods.

Summary: your cramps this time around are heavy and changbin’s “busy” schedule leads to something tragic.

Pairing: reader x Changbin

Two people requested for a Changbin angst. So here it is 🥰

**

Periods.

Y/n hated her period with everything in her but yet she was so relieved whenever it came around.

Her cramps were always a 9/10 and her body ached horrendously. She hated that time of month. Changbin also hated that time of the month because he hated seeing his girl in so much pain.

He always made sure to note when it would be arriving down. He also made sure to run to the grocery store to get her favorite snacks, run her a bath, rent out her favorite movies and buy her a pack of her medication but for some reason (it was quite obvious the reason) he had forgotten to do it this month.

You see, come back season was officially over and the boys were on a month long break. Yes! A month long break. Changbin (since he was a part of 3 racha) was the most excited for it because it meant that he could sleep in, play videos games and not have to worry about deadlines, music, etc.

He was in such an off mode that he ignored the whole world around him and at first Y/n accepted it because he did deserve this break but it was getting annoying because she too wanted to spend time with her boyfriend.

It was 5 in the evening. He was back on the game again. "Binnie?" She whimpered while her hands wrapped around her lower abdomen. Her body was heating up and her stomach was quite literally vibrating because of how much pain she was in.

"Changbin can you please pass me some painkillers from the cabinet?" She asked again due to the fact that Changbin didn't hear her the first time.

"Hm? What did you say babe?" He removed his headphones and slightly turned to look over at her, barely.

"Can you get me painkiller? They're in the bathroom."

"Okay give me a sec," he turned back to the his PC and unpaused the game. This not only angered and frustrated Y/n but it made her sad.

She was haunched over with tears in her eyes. The room was dark and the only source of light was coming from Chnagbins large PC and the bathroom.

The AC was running but she still could feel the heat radiating from her body.

She let out a little whine when she felt the cramps intensify. Changbins constant taps on the keyboard weren't helping her at all.

"Binnie please can you just-"

"Y/n chill for a sec and stop nagging me will you? You always tell me how I should relax and spend some me time but you constantly keep bugging me to do things for you, so please," he glared at you. The game being forgotten about. It took her a while to process what he said but her body had reacted way before her brain could catch up causing her to gasp and scoot away from him.

"I'm sorry, I'll let you be," she whispered and choked on her tears. Her heart rate was beating at a fast rate. The tears began to slowly fall down her cheeks.

He rolled his eyes and put back his headphones before mumbling a few words and continuing to play. He had no idea how much pain Y/n was in. It was obvious.

She watched him play as the tears were running down her face. Her heart was broken or maybe it was just the hormones talking? It didn’t matter to her because yeah even if she did tell Binnie to have time to rest and relax, he hadn’t even had time for her and now he was becoming very frustrated with her.

After what felt like forever, she gathered the little energy she had left and made her way to the bathroom. Her body shook vigorously at how much pain she was experiencing. Was this normal? She started to question.

She grabbed the pain killers from the cabinet and reached out to grab the cup for water. Everything was spinning now and she felt faint. The world was spinning at a fast space and as she filled the glass with water her body collapsed leaving shattered glass by her body.

Changbin started to feel guilty for snapping at her. He felt even more guilty when she went to get the painkillers she had asked him so nicely for and he decided he would apologize when she was back and maybe take her out for a movie.

The sound of the breaking glass gave Changbin a scare. At first he thought it was Y/n doing something and accidentally broke a glass but as he there was no more movement or human activity going on he got worried and quickly got up and followed the sound.

"Y/n? You okay?" He asked knocking but there was no answer. "Y/n?" He called once again while pushing the bathroom door open.

He gasped at the sight. She was laying on the ground with blood gushing out her head. What had happened? Was he this blind to notice she was this badly off? This is all his fault.

"Y/n?! Oh my God," he gasped and run to her side. "Baby?! Can you hear me?" He tried to softly wake her up but all he got in response was a groan and whimper.

His heart was beating at a high rate. His hands shaking and his body breaking a sweat. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket and quickly dialed and called their company medics.

He was then instructed to carry her to bed and put pressure on the wound that was gushing out blood so he did so and followed every little instruction He then had to wipe her face with cold water which instantly woke her up.

"Ow..."she groaned rubbing the side of her head. "Binnie?" She sobbed when she realized what was going on.

He could finally breathe. It was like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. He still didn’t stop wiping her face with the cold water. He wanted to make sure she would stay awake.

"Baby, what happened?" He instantly asked.

"I- I don't know," she sobbed again, "I was trying to get water cause my cramps hurt really bad. You didn’t want to get it for me and I just- everything went black," her voice was soft, Changbin could barely hear. Her tears upset him so much.

"Cramps?" He asked confused, "oh my God! I totally forgot, is it that time of the month already?" he smacked his forehead feeling guilty. "I'm so sorry my love, I was so mean to you yet you needed me," his lower lip quivered feeling bad for putting her through this.

She had no response tho, "Binnie, it hurts," she groaned again while holding her stomach and head. Her breakdown was getting worse.

“Babygirl, you need to breathe. Please. Your going to pass out again,”

“I-it hurts so bad Binnie,” she hiccuped. Changbin only knew one way to calm her down. He got into the other side of the bed and cuddled her. He rubbed circles on her back and she continued to tell her to breathe. Trying to comfort her in any way.

It broke his heart watching her in such a state. He felt like the worst boyfriend ever.

"I'll get you some pain meds yeah? We'll wait to the medics are here so we can see what to do after. Okay my love?" He was panicking again and it was so visible.

"I-I'll be okay," she held his hand for reassurance and she could physically see Changbin let out a huge sigh of relief.

When the medics had arrived, they were shocked that Y/n was even awake.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” The man asked her as he carefully cleaned the wound.

“I don’t know really. I was just waking to get water and pain killers. I just remember my cramps being really bad, the pain kept getting worse. Then I just passed out and I think I hit my head,” she explained.

“How bad was the pain?” He proceeded to ask. She winced at a sharp shoot pain that run through her head when he added a cream to the wound.

“It was on like an 9-“

“Her cramps are normally bad not this bad to the poibt she passes out,” Changbin cut her off trying to help.

“Alright, I think you’ll need to see a doctor about that because that could be a sign you body is telling you,” Changbin made sure to note to make an appointment later for the doctors. They examined her head wound one last time to make sure everything was okay and if it needed stitches or not. It didn't, which Changbin was greatful about because he didn't know how he would handle watch them physically stitch up his girlfriend.

"We're just going to give you a strong dose of  pain medicine because as I said passing out due to the fact of your period cramps is not normal. So we're going to push in some pain meds which may make you a little woozy," the man explained every step and every way.

“Is she allowed to eat after this?” Changbin asked. His hand was wrapped around hers trying to give her comfort.

“Yes she can, maybe cook her some soup. That normally helps.”

When he injected the pain medication into her IV bag, the extreme pain that lingered around her lower stomach and lower back slowly started to subside causing Y/n to moan in relief at how good it felt.

Her body was extremely exhausted and the feeling of sleep came over her.

The sudden need to be held and the craving of Changbin’s touch grew stronger. She knew she was still upset at him but she wanted him so badly.

"Changbin, come here," she said groggily. The medics had left the house and now Changbin was running around trying to clean up the mess and make her some food.

"What is it love?" He questioned while popping his head around the door frame.

"Can you come cuddle?" She groaned and pouted. He was trying so hard not to smile or giggle. He found her so cute.

“Alright let me finish fixing you a plate okay? I’m running to the store quickly to get your snacks and I’m putting blankets in the dryer so you can have warm blankets, just give me a few.”

He quickly walked over and gave her a kiss on the forehead even tho she was frowning. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. If you need anything just call. Okay?”

“Yeah,” she gave in and got comfortable in the bed. Her eyes slowly close as she fell into a deep sleep.

She was awaken by someone wrapping their hands around her waist.

“I’m back my love,” Changbin’s voice was quiet and soft.

“Binnie? I’m so tired,”

“Shall we get you into the shower? just a quick shower so you can eat and then sleep,” she shook her head allowing him to help her to the bathroom where she sat on the toilet as he was trying to get the right water temperature.

“Binnie, I’m so mad at you,” she said, deciding to squash the elephant in the room.

“I know my love,” he turned away from the shower and knelt infront of her. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that, it’ll never happen again. Seeing you in so much pain and seeing you on the floor like that scared the shit out of me baby. It was my fault for not listening to you. Please forgive me,” his eyes were shining under the dim light. He looked to cute for Y/n to not accept his apology. She was an understanding girlfriend after all.

“It’s fine my love, I understand work was a lot and the come back this season was really tough. I just don’t want you to get mad at me like that again. Whenever something happens ,we talk about it. Okay?” She laid her hand on his cheek, cupping it.

“I love you, I promise it won’t happen again. Thank you for being the best girlfriend ever,”

“Your welcome Binnie, now go on strip me naked!” She giggled.

“Im guessing the painkillers worked?”

“Very very well! My head hurts just a little tho,” he got up and kissed her forehead.

“There, I hope the kiss fixes it.” He chuckled while helping her undress, “let’s get you washed up so we can cuddle and watch a movie.”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge Part 1: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge✨

A/N: SO excited for me and @mountainsandmayhem to bring you a Moulin Rouge Joel Miller series ❤️ We are both so excited to be writing this and hope you love it as much as we do! Hang on tight for the ride of your life between these two on their angsty, beautiful love story 🥰 Comments and reblogs mean the world to us! Chapters are in both reader’s and Joel’s POV. No explicit smut in first chapter.

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Tags: Angst, unprotected p in v, oral, fingering, forbidden love, murder, fluff and smut, jealousy, moulin rouge au, soulmates being in love, protective Joel, no outbreak, reader is 20 and Joel is 29, tags will be updated each chapter

Summary: Joel Miller doesn’t know what awaits him as he takes on a maintenance job at the Moulin Rouge. He doesn’t know he’ll meet the absolute love of his life, the Sparkling Diamond, as his world comes crashing down around him fast. Will he be able to stay away when he’s warned not to touch the dancers? Will he listen or will he challenge that pull that draws him to the one thing that sets his soul on fire?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge

Your whole childhood centered around death, but you never thought about the possibility of yourself dying, never thought about how you’d like to go. As your vision blurs and the world begins to silence, you realise that this is the ultimate way to go. For her. Saving her is all that matters, saving the person you love the most in the entire world, even if you’ve never met her.

Sarah, please Joel. Name her Sarah.

At times, your childhood may have seemed sad or tragic to the outside eye, but to you it has been nothing short of amazing. You don’t remember the incident that took both your parents, you were too young, so young that you can’t even picture their faces. You were brought to stay with the only family you had left - your mom’s much older brother.

Your uncle Edward was a quiet and kind man, he was also the owner of Moulin Rouge. A bright and colorful dance hall, filled with sparkling costumes and lively music. For the longest time you weren’t allowed outside of the living quarters, but you remember laughter and cheering filtering through the thin walls. This place was magic to you in your childhood naivety.

You remember begging the dancers to teach you the steps to the songs you overheard in the night. Occasionally, one of them would show you a kick or a twirl that you’d practice alone in your room until the muscles in your legs were stretched and sore, no longer able to support your tiny frame.

During the day, a tutor came in for a few hours to teach you and the few other children that lived there, meals were brought to your living quarters by an older woman who rarely spoke to you. Uncle Edward was alway home for those meals, but often had stacks of papers to go through. Most of the time it was just you and the broken guitar and pottery wheel your uncle had given you. But overall you were alone, far away music and laughter to keep you company.

For your thirteenth birthday your uncle surprised you with dance lessons. He knew how much you wanted to learn, and could practically feel the energy buzzing off you every time your eyes darted to the performing dancers. So he gave in, gifting you with something that might bring you a little joy in the isolated burlesque. A silent way of telling you he was sorry for not being around much and leaving you to delve in your loneliness inside your vacant room.

“Well, little petal,” your uncle says as you blow out the singular candle sitting on top of the small cake to celebrate you turning sixteen. “I think you’re old enough now to come up and watch my diamonds perform. What do you say? Would you like to come see the show?”

You practically jumped from your seat, mouthful of chocolate cake, “Yes, Uncle! Please. Nothing could make me happier.”

“Tomorrow night I will bring you up to see it. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.”

You’d seen the costumes and the women in their makeup before, you’ve even been out to the dance hall and on the stage. But that was only during the day, when the tables were only occupied by up-turned chairs, the overhead lights were off, and the band was nothing more than an empty pit in front of the stage.

The next night, your uncle brought you a new sparkly pink dress, and had the hair and make-up ladies get you all dolled up to watch. You looked at yourself in the mirror and had never felt more beautiful, seeing yourself as one of the famous diamonds of the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

The show was like nothing you’d ever seen before. You didn’t know so many varieties of reds and blues and purples existed. The women kicked their legs in unison, men cheering and clapping as they swooshed their large billowing skirts. The music filled your ears with joy and wonder, the sounds crisper than they were through the walls. Laughter and happiness held you like a tight hug. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

As the show wound down, your Uncle leaned to you and said it was time to head to bed, “You’ve seen the show, little petal. Now the adults will indulge in wine and talk about things not for your ears.”

You didn’t argue, simply kissing your uncle on the cheek and saying, “Thank you, Uncle. I am going to practice harder so I can become a real diamond one day!”

You floated down the hallway. With your eyes still swarming with the bright colors of the show and your future dreams you hadn’t realised that you opened the door before the one to take you home, and this door led to something both sinister and unspeakable - it led to darkness. The room was only lit by candles sprawled across the wall, casting looming shadows of the acts happening before your very eyes.

You stood in the doorway taking in men and women completely naked, rubbing up against one another incessantly. Your tutor taught you that these areas of your body are not to be shared, they are only for you. Yet here they are, almost unashamed as they grind. The men all appear to be having a good time, but the women - they’re crying out.

Are they in pain? What are these men doing to them? Why are some men just watching? They should be helping. Your uncle, does he know that this is happening? Is this what his diamonds do?

Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

You nervously approached your Uncle about it a few days later. “Oh, my sweet little petal. I’m sorry that you had to witness that. I promise you, none of those women were in pain. Not all my diamonds dance like that, and you never will. I meant it when I offered you a spot to dance, fully clothed and on the stage only. I only hope that you do not think less of me now that you know what goes on behind closed doors of the Moulin Rouge.”

Four Years Later

Joel stumbles into the doors of the Moulin Rouge after seeing the maintenance worker needed sign displayed in bold letters outside the burlesque. This was the last place he wanted to end up, the last place he’d be caught dead in; but he needed something, and anything was better than the minimal income of selling his woodwork. He couldn’t get by anymore by only getting one or two customers every couple of weeks, if he was lucky. It wasn’t enough to pay the rent of his small, cramped apartment. Wasn’t enough to feed himself day and night. He needed more, and this was his shot.

He pushes the heavy black doors open, quickly tucking his red flannel button-up into his pressed pants, needing to look his best if he wants to get this job. He has to get it, has to impress whoever is the owner of this club.

He finds the first person he can spot, quickly getting the attention of a bartender as he washes crystal glasses with a thin rag behind the sleek bar top.

“Sorry to bother you, but I saw the sign out front that said you need some help with maintenance around here?” he asks briskly as he stares at the bartender with eyes that say he’s desperate. His hands come to rest on the bar top and he fights the urge to nervously drum his fingers along it.

The bartender looks him over as he sets down a glass, nodding his head. “Oh, yes. Let me go grab the owner real quick. Be right back, wait here,” he says as he runs in the opposite direction, disappearing behind a long hallway. Joel nervously pushes back his outgrown curls, silently cursing to himself for buying that loaf of bread instead of getting a haircut. His big brown eyes dart curiously around the club, trying to take it all in.

It’s light outside as the sun glistens in through the drawn crimson curtains, some dancers sauntering on stage as they practice their moves, swaying their hips to a nonexistent beat. Joel averts his eyes and takes in the rest of the large room - it’s filled with tables that are meant for the men to smoke cigars and drink their alcohol as they drool over the women of the burlesque. All lust and no love, the way the burlesque was set up to be. Joel was never into this scene, never fit in with any of those types of men, but he was desperate, he needed work and this may very well be the only way he can get any.

A tall, thin man walks into the room with slicked back sandy hair and green eyes that are as sharp as a snake’s. He eyes Joel carefully, one hand resting in his pocket, the other stretching to shake Joel’s. Joel wastes no time and reaches a hand out, feeling a firm grasp as the owner shakes his hand.

“The name’s Edward. And you are?” he asks with a gentle smile.

“I’m Joel. Joel Miller,” he says with nerves running through his body, the back of his neck slick with sweat. He’s nervous he won’t get it, nervous he’ll leave empty handed with no job. He’ll fight for it though because he’s a fighter, and he doesn’t give up easily.

“So, I hear you’re interested in the maintenance job. You got any experience?” Edward asks as he leans against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest as he examines Joel again, taking in his flannel and tan pants, his worn work boots.

“Yes, sir. Got years of experience with fixin’ things. Anything from sinks to building homes. Even have a little woodworking shop on the side,” he says proudly as he tries not to fidget with the buttons on his flannel.

“Hmmm,” Edward hums as he looks him over again carefully, those bright green eyes staring at Joel’s clothes like he’s judging him. Joel swallows down that dry lump of self doubt creeping in. “You seem capable. How old are you? Think you can handle working at nights, too? Gets pretty rowdy around here when the moon comes up, but that’s when we need someone the most,” he presses, eyes shifting over him as his brow raises in question again, waiting for Joel to respond.

“Just about to turn thirty and ‘course. Nights don’t bother me one bit. I can even start today, if I can,” Joel says with a determined smile as he shoves his left hand deep into his pocket, praying he’ll get the job.

“I see. Well then, looks like you got yourself a new gig. See you tonight at let’s say 7:00 pm,” he says, reaching a hand out to Joel. For most men that would be a question, but Edward is a very rich and powerful man, he doesn’t ask for things, he demands them. Joel doesn’t hesitate for a second and puts his grip in Edward’s, shaking in agreement.

“Thank you, thank you! You don’t know how much I appreciate this,” he says with tears almost filling his eyes. A job, he finally has a job that’ll get him by just fine. No more nights of going hungry. He can finally breathe a second, if not more.

Before he turns to leave, Edward puts a hand on his shoulder and turns him back around carefully. “Oh, forgot to mention something. There’s only one condition I ask of you. Don’t touch my dancers. They’re strictly for the guests that pay,” he says with furrowed brows, his eyes burning into him, as if to see if Joel will flinch at all.

“That’ll be no problem on my part. Promise,” Joel confirms with a nod of his head, his tousled curls moving with the motion.

“Good, good…” Edward hums out. “Alright, Joel. I’ll see you tonight,” he says with a wave as he turns around and heads back behind crimson curtains, disappearing into a dark hallway.

Joel can’t help but smile as he heads out the doors of the Moulin Rouge, stepping into the warm sunshine as it bathes across his tanned skin. He takes a breath of fresh air as it smells of autumn leaves and new hope.

Things start to feel like they’re looking up, like something nirvanic was right on the cusp. What Joel doesn’t know is just what waits around that heavy crimson curtain for him. He doesn’t know the beautiful disaster he’s about to step into. A Sparkling Diamond that will take over his life forever. Someone so precious, so special, so indescribably unique. Someone so very - you.

Joel makes sure to get to the Moulin Rouge fifteen minutes early, wanting nothing more than to give off a good impression. The burlesque is filling up quickly as the sun fades away, the bright full moon taking its place in the sky, stars scattering around it.

When he walks inside the double doors, he sees that the dance hall is filling up quickly with men who smoke expensive cigars and drink bottles of whiskey that he can only dream of affording. He makes his way further into the entrance, his eyes taking in his surroundings, noticing that the large room looks nothing like earlier when it was closed.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings as red curtains drape across the crimson wallpaper. The dance floor is littered with burlesque dancers that lift their skirts high and tease the men as they surround them, hoping to entice the wealthiest one. Money is what they’re after and selling themselves is their only shot at making any extra tips for the night.

Joel clenches his jaw at the sight and turns his head, waiting at the front until he finally spots Edward in a black pressed suit. His blonde hair slicked back tight, looking around to make sure his guests are happy and taken care of. When he sees Joel, he walks toward him and puts a hand on his shoulder in greeting.

“Ahh, there you are. Come along now. I’ll show you around,” he says gladly.

After that, he shows Joel the burlesque. He takes him to the maintenance closet and gives him a key to access it - metal tools and large shelves cover the entirety of the inside. Next he takes him down long, dark corridors, past rooms that are locked shut. Just when Joel thinks he's seen it all, they head up to the second story. Sweeping down wooden laden hallways, passed the balcony that overlooks the large city, and through winding rooms that seem to have no end. He had no idea it was so large and spacious here; didn’t even realise people lived here. Joel starts to think more softly towards Edward, sure these women put themselves in vulnerable positions night after night, but they have safe housing and a sense of family and community back here.

Edward takes Joel back down toward the main ballroom where the entertainment is held every night. Just as he latches on to the spiral staircase, he sees a man dragging a dancer with barely anything on into a dark room at the end of the luminescent hallway with red carpet sprawled across the floor. He shoves her in as he starts working his hands up her body, and Joel can see the mass of bodies already in the room as he closes the door, concealing moans and lust on the other side of the tarnished doorway.

Joel gulps and looks back toward the ground, keeping his eyes off the pleasure room. He knows what goes on in these walls, knows what filth lies in every corner. The stench of money and sex encompass the room, he can almost taste it on the tip of his rough tongue. He finds it revolting, men using these women's bodies. No love to be seen in these walls. Only perversions and sexual desire. He turns away sharply and descends the stairs, almost running into the back of Edward.

“I believe one of the wooden tables over by the stage needs some maintenance. The legs are collapsing, think you can do something about that?” he asks with a raised brow as he points at a dark wooden table with the legs barely hanging on.

“Sure. Probably just needs some tightening up. Easy fix,” Joel nods.

“Excellent. I have guests to greet, so fix that and then come find me,” just as he turns on his heel, he stops and looks back at Joel. Green eyes narrowing, a finger pointing in Joel’s direction. “Remember,” he says with venom in his voice, “Do not touch my dancers. They’re only for paying customers, and you cannot afford them.”

Joel only nods, letting Edward know he understands. With that, Edward turns and heads for the main doors, greeting more men as they pack in like sardines. Joel sighs and heads for the maintenance closest, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that shoots through his gut at the backhanded warning Edward gave.

Don’t touch the dancers…you cannot afford them.

Even if Joel could afford it, he would never do what these men are doing. The soft, beautiful women of this place deserve to be treasured, not pawed at and used. He wasn’t a rabid dog. He could control himself unlike all the other men that crowded the Moulin Rouge.

He grabs up a metal wrench and shoves some nuts and bolts deep into his pocket. When he makes his way back to the table he starts to assess the damage. This would be much easier to fix in his well lit workshop, but there’s no carrying this table away from the stage and through the crowd of hungry men.

Now that he’s thrust in the middle of the wooden dance floor, he can see the burlesque dancers seeking out the richest looking men, sitting on their laps and letting them put their dirty paws all over their bodies. The men laugh, carrying on conversations as they fondle their breasts, leaning down to trail kisses up their necks. Some get up and lead the women down the long, dark corridor. Back to the pleasure room. Back to their impending doom.

The three men at the table next to him have one girl propped up in front of them, all of their hands grabbing different areas of her body, asking her if she wants all three of them; the men are easily twenty years older than the petite and innocent looking blonde in front of them. Joel feels for the dancers, but there isn’t anything he can do. It’s business. It’s all about the fucking money and pleasure. Pleasure sells, and this is what most men desire. Sex.

The room grows louder as men cheer from the crowded tables. Some swarming the end of the lit up stage to get a peek at the next performer. Some start chanting, yelling in demand for the next poor soul to dance across that stage, right into the pit of vipers that are ready to spit venom at whatever girl walks out next.

The cigar smoke lingers in the air as crystal glasses clink in cheers, alcohol spilling over on the tabletops. Joel knows that’ll leave a huge mess for him and the other staff to clean up after closing. He tightens the bolts under the table, winding the wrench as he tries to turn his focus away from the lust filled crowd. They’re just a bunch of sick fucks who get off on ripping away the innocence and dignity of women. Nothing more than their play things. Theirs to possess and own for a few hours. It’s cruel and vile, disgusting in itself.

Joel was never the type of guy to use a woman. He’d never dream of hurting anyone. He was thoughtful and charming, a man who minds his manners and works hard for everything he has.

He digs harder into the leg of the table, trying to mute the hooting and hollering that is getting louder by the second. The sounds of the men start to overlap until it’s muffled and pressing on his eardrums, running along the nerves that wire his brain. He concentrates on the task at hand, shutting out the noise as he tries to fix the table.

“The Sparkling Diamond!”

“She’s coming on stage now!”

“Look, look!”

The men nearest him yell to each other, babbling about the Sparkling Diamond as the lights turn crimson and dark around the room, crystal chandeliers send glistening reflections across the expensive tailored suits that fill the crowded room.

“Here she comes, boys!”

Just then, the lights go out completely and a spotlight shines on the wide stage. Crimson curtains splay over the sides, exposing the long walkway where dancers show off for the men. The crowd goes quiet, a few whistles shrouding the silence as a slow, sensual song covers the room. The men pound on the stage, yelling for the Sparkling Diamond to come out. Joel thinks she must be something special if she has the entire room practically panting with anticipation. The wild men crawl towards the stage, pushing each other to get to the front so they can get the best view. Joel doesn’t know anything about a Sparkling Diamond, but he’s intrigued. Just what were they getting all worked up about?

Before he can comprehend what's happening, he hears the click of heels travel across the stage. He rises slowly, seeing the pretty figure that dances under the bright spotlight, the men now screaming and throwing their hands out, begging to get a touch of the enchantress that graces their presence. When she’s fully in view he freezes, dropping the wrench to the floor as it crashes with a loud thud against the spotless wood. It suddenly feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. Joel braces himself against the table, the sight before him nearly knocking him back down to his knees.

It’s you.

The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in his entire life. Long, soft curls cascade past your shoulders and bounce around with every move you make on the lit up stage. Your short pink dress barely grazes the curve of your thighs as your arms raise overhead and you spin slowly. As you bring your arms back down, your red painted fingernails caress your curls, then tease the jawline of your flawless face. Your cheeks flush from the attention before you gently bite the tip of your finger, red lipstick sitting matted to your delicate lips.

Joel thinks they look soft to the touch, delicate even. Your lips call to him, almost scream his name. Joel, Joel, Joel. And he wants to answer it. God, does he want to answer that call.

He watches the way you twirl, fluttering your eyelashes as you look down at the men, seducing them effortlessly. Performing is what you were meant to do. When you finally look at Joel he falls completely apart, all his threads coming untied in a heap, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He stands there frozen, sinking his nails into the hardwood table as he sucks in a shaky breath, almost unable to fully take in the vision that stands mere inches before him. He can’t hear the carnal men anymore, can’t smell the cigar smoke that encases the air, can’t focus on anything that even remotely takes his attention from the beauty that lights up the room. He can only focus on you. He feels a pull from his chest, like an invisible string, forcing him to look at nothing else but you. The Sparkling Diamond that draws men to the Moulin Rouge, and the one thing he knows will get him fired.

Your eyes sparkle and shine like a rare gemstone, pulling Joel in like a siren’s forbidden song, a lull that drags him under the dark depths of the sea. The smile you wear doesn’t quite reach your eyes, a sadness there that he can’t quite place. The men claw and reach for you like starving pigs, acting like you’re just a piece of meat to pass around to all the others to get a quick taste of.

It makes him sick the way they objectify your body, only caring about what’s underneath the short shimmery dress you wear. Joel doesn’t stare at your curves, doesn’t get sucked into whatever fantasy the rest of the men are in. He just stares at your eyes. Beautiful, sparkling. He’d cross oceans just to have a chance to memorize each fleck and color that maps out those starry eyes. Like roadmaps to his soul, leading him home to the deep depths of those glistening irises. And that’s when something snaps, he can’t - no, he won’t let any of these men put one grimy finger on you. Whatever it takes he’ll do it. He makes a silent vow to keep you safe, protect you at all cost.

There’s only one condition, don’t touch the dancers.

Edward’s voice plays through Joel’s mind on repeat, warning him to not tempt fate. But fate had already been tempted when he saw you up on that stage. He’d quit, starve, be homeless on the street if it meant he could have a chance to be with you. He’d give it all just to be able to touch you, to know you, to have you. He’d leave it all for you. His sweet, Sparkling Diamond.

You spin and turn, kicking your feet up to show off your smooth, long legs that all the men drool over. You turn to the right, drifting your eyes in the direction of a man you’ve never seen before. You almost freeze as he stares right back at you, big beautiful brown eyes gazing into yours as he gawks at you reverently. But his eyes don’t travel down your body like the other men’s do. His eyes stay fixed on your face alone, staring up into the pits of your soul as you suck in a breath and try to focus on the beat of the song.

His long tousled curls drape over his forehead, almost falling into his brown doe eyes that seem to suck you in. He’s tall, broad shouldered with thick biceps that cling to his rolled up button-up flannel. Spidery veins cascade down his arms and end in massive hands that stay clenched by his sides. His tanned skin seems to glow as he stares at you with brown eyes that melt into your own like a candle stick, wax flowing down slowly, sticky and new. It’s captivating. He is captivating.

It's like you’re stuck in a haze, thick clouds that cover you and wrap their fog around so you can’t see, can’t hear anything anymore. You try to focus on the men that praise your body, try to avert your eyes from the handsome stranger, but that organ in your chest you force yourself to ignore is almost screaming at you to run to him. Two souls colliding into each other that were destined to meet. Just like twin flames.

Soulmates.

You blink once, twice, peeling your gaze away from him, turning the other direction, forcing yourself to stay bright eyed, hoping your smile doesn’t lower. You come face to face with a gentleman with a large top hat that screams your name and reaches his arms out, desperate to get just a single touch from you that he hopes will become more.

You turn back around and find that heated gaze again with the dark brown eyes, your own eyes going wide as they draw you to him. He looks a lot like your saving grace. Someone that wants to come in and sweep you off your feet.

Again, he just watches you silently, eyes searching yours as he seems to clock into your mind, reading your thoughts like a book from front to back. He won’t find anything there except a longing for something more. An escape. Happiness. And maybe he could be that for you. Maybe, just maybe he was destined to find you. You can feel it in your chest, that ache and pull that draws you to him.

Your uncle won’t like this. Not one bit…

Joel watches your entire routine, never once letting his eyes drop from you. He watches as you disappear into the crowd of men, narrowing his eyes when he sees the way they grab at you and beg to have a dance with the Sparkling Diamond. It makes him want to strangle every single one of them slowly.

Please, just one dance?

Sparkling Diamond! Care to have a drink with me?

How about a little fun in the red room?

You politely decline each offer and just smile as you pass the men by, trying your best to not meet the stranger with the pretty brown eyes’ gaze. He’s so handsome, so very easy on the eyes. You try your best to look at the men with money, knowing this is what you’re here for, to give them a show so they’ll pay to come back. Try as you might, that thin string snapped the second you saw his brown flecked honey eyes. You don’t want to do this anymore.

You turn where you stand and look back towards the stage. You search as men cram around you and over the top of an older man’s shoulder you can see him, clear as day, still staring at you with a trance-like expression on his face. You hold his gaze for a few seconds, curling your lips into a shy smile and you swear you see his pretty caramel eyes light up like fireflies in the night.

Just when you’re about to walk over to him, you feel your uncle pull you away in the opposite direction. “Come on, little petal, got some nice men that’d like to meet you.”

You follow him helplessly past some drawn crimson curtains, already over the drunk men that will press their chapped lips to your face and place their grimy hands all over you. You’re finished though, over all the fake smiles and laughter you are forced to sell these men night after night. When you look back over your shoulder you can’t see him anymore. No more pretty brown eyes that make you feel somehow safe. You don’t know him, his backstory, his name, or even his age, but you’ll find out. You have to, you just have to.

After finishing fixing the two broken tables and putting them back into order, Joel gets another visit from Edward as he saunters over with a big smile and a glass of scotch in his hand.

“Everything going alright?” Edward asks as he pulls on his black tie and straightens out his long tailed coat.

“Yes, sir. Finished fixin’ those tables for you. They should be good to go now,” Joel answers as he stands up straight with his hands deep in his pockets.

“Excellent!” Edward goes over to the wooden tables and knocks on the top, inspecting Joel’s work as he looks them over carefully. Once he’s satisfied he gives Joel a strong pat on the back and nods. “Did good work, boy. Think we’ll keep you around.”

Joel smiles at the compliment, thanking him for the opportunity. “Oh, there’s actually something else that needs to be done. You remember that room we passed on the second floor? The very back room by the balcony? The one that says Sparkling Diamond?”

Joel’s eyes go wide as he recalls passing a big red door with the letters spelled out in fake diamonds. That has to be your room. He should’ve noticed it sooner, maybe asked about it. But he didn’t know that room would belong to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He didn’t know it until now.

“Uh-yeah. What about it?” he asks cautiously, eyebrow slightly raised in anticipation of what Edward would say next.

“The sink in her kitchen is dripping and some of the lightbulbs are burnt out. There should be some in the supply closet. Think you can handle taking care of that now?”

He doesn’t hesitate a second. “Absolutely. I’ll get right on it,” Joel says urgently.

As he turns to leave, Edward calls his name. “Oh, Joel. Before you leave tonight, go ahead and have a beer. It’s on me.”

Joel doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been offered a free one before, always had to pay money that he didn’t have to get one. “Oh, thank you. I… I appreciate it.”

“You earned it, kid. I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Edward asks with his eyebrows knitted together and gaze heavy on Joel.

“I’ll be here,” he promises.

“Alright, take care now. I’ve got some business to attend to so see you tomorrow.” Edward turns and walks back into a sea of rich men.

Joel pushes his way past men in black suits and black ties, cigars hanging from their open mouths and drinks spilling over their glass cups as they talk about money, sex, stocks, and women. He tunes them out and keeps walking, ignoring the nasty stares he gets from not being in a suit himself.

As soon as he grabs the bag of lightbulbs and a few plumbing tools, he heads up the grand staircase with red carpet sprawled across each step. He makes his way up the stairs, down the narrow dark hallway and stops before he turns the corner. He stands just a few feet from the pleasure room. The red room as they call it here.

He can hear the moans and cries coming from the room, can smell the stench of sex that whisks through the air. He wonders if you go into that room night after night, letting the men with dirty claws sink their nails into you, feasting on you like blood sucking vampires.

His jaw clenches up as his nails sink into the meat of his palm, his face becoming hot with heat as he imagines you splayed out on an open bed while the men take and take from you until you have nothing left to give. Until you’re just a used up rag doll for them to toy with. He snarls and turns the corner sharply, putting those dark thoughts out of his mind. If he had his way he’d make damn sure you’d never set foot in that room again. He’d slaughter a whole fucking mass of men if he had to. No one should lay their filthy hands on you as far as he’s concerned.

He walks through the long corridor, passing door after door until he finally gets to yours. He takes a deep breath and turns the golden doorknob slowly entering the dimly lit room with pale pink wallpaper. He gently shuts the door and when he turns around he stops in his tracks, hand sliding off the doorknob as he sees you standing in the middle of the room. Naked.

Your skin is soft, probably as soft as the back of a rose petal. Your legs are long, smooth, and enticing. He wonders what it’d feel like to run his long fingers over your creamy thighs. You’re bent over, ass in the air, as you unbuckle the straps of the high heels you wore on stage. Your hips are curvy, shaping your round ass into mere perfection. Your full breasts peek out from the corner as your long waves spill over your shoulders. You’re absolutely perfect, stunning, a work of pure art.

Joel knows he’s fucked now. He knows. After seeing how beautiful you are, he can’t turn away. He shouldn’t be standing here gawking at you while you change, but he can’t move. He’s stuck like glue, an immovable object that can’t be pushed. He’s in trouble, so much trouble.

He loses his balance when you bend over again, exposing a different view of you that nearly takes him to his knees. The bag of bulbs falls to the ground with a large crash, and you turn with a quaint gasp as you take in the man that stands before you. It’s him, the man with the dark eyes.

Your eyes go wide, quickly reaching for a thin, sheer robe as you wrap it around you and cover the parts of you that are completely exposed. You breathe hard, your breath coming out rushed and fast. He does the same as he just stands there staring, no air left in his lungs as he stands in front of the beauty that takes his breath away. And then it’s silence, only rushed breaths and pining eyes.

The longer he stares into your captivating eyes, the more he knows he’s fucked. There was no way he was getting out of this now, no way to back down. He was going to make you his one way or another. You would be his. Period.

[palomahasenteredthechat]

My thoughts on AQPDO

So, did this image appear in the actual film? Yeah, that's what I thought...

I loved it, and I was disappointed by it. This is long, so buckle in. Major Spoilers discussed below.

First, the outstanding: the performances. Holy hell. Lupita. Just...her talent is breathtaking. To sustain that level of intensity without overdoing it, I am simply in awe. Well done. I hope some attention is paid to her performance when award season rolls around. Ditto Alex Wolff. He did a LOT with so little screentime. Djimon too; they all were so, so moving.

Joe was so heartbreaking, and yet Joe's character is one of the things I am disappointed about, because I needed more. Not because I love Joe, but because the story needed it. I know there was a backstory that was cut, and to be honest I don't think that was necessarily a poor decision, but the issue is it was cut late in the creative process, versus in the writing, and that is where the problem is. More on that in a bit, but Joe delivered a sensitive and moving performance, and really understated as well. Not a bit of the cheeky Joe we have come to love so much that also I think pops out in Eddie and Michael occasionally. He was wholly immersed in Eric's reality and his energy complimented Lupita's so well; you can see how much they worked off each other. Dare I say she elevated his game. Another marathon performance and I can imagine how exhausting it must be to sustain that.

Second, Michael Sarnoski, hats off to you sir. The pacing, the way you put the story together visually, your heartbreaking script, just so well done. I hope they release the shooting script because I would love to read it and see the words (or lack of) that Joe and Lupita interpreted so movingly. I wonder if Michael has processed the death of a parent recently, because I felt so much emotion from this story. This film is about accepting the inevitability of death, while going through the five stages of grief, yet seeking to live fully regardless. Trigger warning: DO NOT see this movie if you are going through a rough time with someone who is terminally ill. It will wreck you. But this film is tragically, beautifully human. To deliver that story in a Hollywood big budget action film is a hat trick. Every actor in Hollywood who wants to grow creatively should be calling their agents asking to work with Michael Sarnoski right now.

Also, shout out to the production design people. They completely suspended my disbelief that the characters weren't in New York. Set design, lighting, like I could SMELL New York. Virtual production is getting so fucking good - we're well past the Unreal Wall vistas of the Mandalorian. If you ask yourself how A24 could shoot an Iraq war movie in the pastoral hills of England this is your answer.

Now, the not so good.

Go back and watch the first and second trailers and tell me how many of those moments were in the movie. Answer: barely any.

Map claw hand? We have to get out of the city? Gay couple? Old man turning off engine? Nada.

So, was this all misdirection in the marketing, making the audience think they were coming to see a summer action movie? That's legit, trying to get butts in seats, but I have a strong feeling Michael delivered a very different movie that was hacked up in the testing process. All of those scenes probably made the movie feel 'too long', and they had to cut them back to balance the action sequences with the emotional sequences.

The helicopters overhead spelling out THEY CAN'T SWIM probably came from focus group comments where someone was like 'why didn't the aliens just cross the river and start eating people in New Jersey?' (good point). But I'll bet you they wanted to give Alex Wolff's character a more significant death in regard to Samira's emotional journey, so they reshot the scene with the old man turning off the engine and had Alex do it instead.

Also, I get the strong feeling Eric showed up in the story much earlier in the original cut of the film, and the scene with Map Claw Hand illustrates that. The big question regarding Eric is why this random sad British dude gloms on to Samira and I'm not sure they answer that question in the final cut. Joe absolutely sells it, but it doesn't make sense and I suspect it's because it wasn't written that way.

Also, and call me crazy, but I think Joe is wearing a wig in some parts of this movie and not in other parts. It would make sense if there were significant reshoots based on early testing of the film. I wonder if the Alien Lava Tiki Bar (what...was that actually) scene was added later. Like, I get why Eric went up there- actually I don't, I think Eric would have been focused on getting the medicine back to her and wouldn't have taken a detour up scaffolding to follow I cat at all, but that's just me.

Finally, let's talk about the cat. Both Schnitzel and Nico are exquisite and enjoyable to watch, though how no one got scratched or bitten by a disgruntled feline is a mystery. We had a long debate about whether The Cat Represents Samira's Life, or The Cat is An Angel, or Fate, but ultimately we just went with KITTY and that made the story more enjoyable.

Samira is on a quest, to die on her terms, and once she accepts her fate, she sheds the things that no longer matter to her, and in the process gives Eric a purpose. The scene in the jazz bar was so moving. The final shot is also incredibly moving, and I hope the city was filled with the sound of music one last time, a beautiful elegy accompanying her soul to heaven.

Bravo.

[saturnbellfromhell]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS IV

Hello! Welcome back to some obersvations for the month of May! I've been super inspired since I've started working in a new firm and got to meet many new colleges. So I hope you enjoy the content and always feel free to comment your opinions and observations!

〰️ DISCLAIMLER

These are my personal, subjective views on some placements and signs. If you disagree, feel free to discuss it down below and not take everything personally.

With that being said, let's get started!

💧PISCES SUN/RISING

These people just sniff out each other the second they lock eyes with one another. It's this familiar family they all crave to feel and it's finally in front of their face. They feel at peace and at home with other Pisces dominant people. They have these glossy eyes filled with mystery and warmth. Every Pisces Sun/Rising/Dominant person I've met has some sort of artistic talent, that being: painting, drawing, sculpting, writing, play any instrument..etc. They are so in tune with the details of life others strive to see. I also think they can be such big day dreamers, introverts and tragically lovley people.

💧MOON IN AQUARIUS

This placement can seem very distant, raw and viewed as a lonely wolf but on the contrary it's a whole different story. Aquarius rules the 11th house, which is the house of community, society, shortly speaking friendships. So having a Moon in this sign really means having a collective feeling with others and wanting to socialize. On the other hand Aqarius is ruled by Saturn, a cold and restrictive planet of time, so Aquariuans don't want to rush things nor spend their time on irrelevant people. By doing so they can seem to cut people off quickly and start over or to overly bond with someone and become obsessed, since putting so much effort and love into them. They want to be seem as rigid and cold to mask their openness and emotional demeanor. When they get hurt they shut off, write it off and try to ignore it, even though deep inside it hurts for a very long time, but they just try as hard as they can to forget.

💧CHIRON IN SCORPIO

Chiron, the healing healer. Cursed with a wound never to be patched up again, but at the same time giving the knowledge to others how to continue with their wounds. Scorpio Chirons are constitley shamed for their sexual energy surrounding them, so most of the time they cover up and try to hide underneath it. They attract a lot of perverted minds to the table by just breathing. This can also indicate a very empathetic and intuitive person who feels absolutely every thing and can/wants to help others, but by doing so breaks themself down a lot of the time. They also have strong trust issues, may abuse their power, can have low self estem, can be frightful and nervous people. When they open up their heart more and let go is when the healing truly happens. They are more wise than they think, but they cannot see it always threw the anxious attitude and self sabotaging persona.

💧 5TH HOUSE IN CANCER

They attract and love water signs. They crave deep connections, star gazing, physical touch, nurturing their partner, tender, sweet and innocent love. These people like to pit their partner on a pedestal and become a little obsessed with them. They want them to be the center of their universe and also want that in return. Cancer is also symbolically connected to the Mother archetype, the womb, birth...etc, having Cancer in the 5th house of romance and relationships means these people really have that motherly instinct and adore when their partner is family oriented of hands on with kids. They love rainy days filled with the smell of baked goods in the arms of their loved one. They want a Romeo and Juliet kind of love.

💧SAGITTARIUS MOON

Now I've grown up with two Sag Moons in my house hold, one being my brother and the other being my father and they are so alike it's hilarious. I've also had 2 very close friends with this placement and again the similarities are off the rails. Firstly they need to always be on the run, optionally having a job which includes a lot of travel or just changing jobs in different places. Secondly, they are so angry when things don't go their way, but they do cool down quite quickly, the most out of the 3 fire Moons. They are also so good in finding solutions with different people and I different situations. They also love to have many hobbies, are known to be book worms and can flow with any conversation quite well. They are also huge extroverts and the goofy bunch. This doesn't apply that much if the native has a lot of 8th house placements, Pluto aspects with personal planets or a 12th house Moon/Sun/Stellium.

💧AIR DOMINAT PEOPLE

It's really hard for Air dominant people to relate to others. They are just overly detached and see everything threw a realist prism. It can be a little annoying to be honest, especially for fire and water signs, who are just passionate and act a lot how they feel.

💧GEMINI VENUS

Here's me again, bashing on Gemini Venuses...but I just can't help it. The Venus sign that I meet and attract the most. From all the people that remarried, had a lot of partners, Venus in Gemini takes the cake. But what I do respect about them is they will not stay in something they're unhappy with for a long time, they have very high standards and will not dumb them down for anyone. They will always find something better and more exiting and that's why they are known to "change" partners and be "promiscuous". Yep, many are jealous of them at the end of the day aswell.

💧LIBRA RISING

I've never met a Libra rising that doesn't have q nice behind! I know that sounds kinda creepy, but it's true. Since Libra rules the lower back, they all have a more rounder rear. The also have amazing skin most of the time. A very plump and glowy face.

💧NEPTUNE IN THE 12TH HOUSE

This can indicate a very cloudy person. They can be very inactive and procrastinate a lot, but at the same time be highly intelligent and artsy people. I mean Neptune does feel at home in the 12 house, so in my opinion if you're going to have any planet in this house, Neptune it is.

💧MALES WITH VENUS IN THE 1ST HOUSE

Now, I know it's such a strange placement to bash since this is a very fond placement to me and close to my heart. But I've noticed a lot of men having this placement can be confused with this feminine energy in their chart. They are very beautiful, don't get me wrong, but when this placement is mixed with a water sun/moon and a fire Mars it's a death penalty. They know they're  beautiful and girls get caught up in that trap of emotional intelligence and an attractive face. They also can be a little shallow. I've seen many guys leave the girl they have the most in common with for just a pretty face so they can show her off as a trophy and then go after the other, but still message and crave the one they truly felt something.

💧TAURUS VENUS IN MALES

The thing that gets them the most if a fruity and playful perfume, long bouncy hair and back scratches...trust me.

💧SUN SQUARE JUPITER

A lot goes on in a day of a person who has this aspect. In one corner ypu want to achieve everything and anything, work your ass of and show your strong ego. In the other corner you are so sick of being the more responsible person and want to just run away. They also have an intense feeling about failure. They should lean from it, not run away.

[tabithatwo]

i humbly request some of your jackienat thoughts at this time

I am humbly providing many many days after you asked!

Jackienat in canon: god I’ve talked about them at length before but there two as individuals are my little sweetie snookums lovebug angels (I love all the yellowjackets but god god god I love them); they are the two girls who I believe are the most invested in the team as a whole. I think they would’ve been amazing co-captains side note (not me suddenly considering writing a short little au something about them being captains together GOD). I think that it’s been said very well by many people, but they are so tethered. They want what’s best for all the girls, they love hard, and they do NOT get that energy in return enough. I don’t really understand why people come to the conclusion that they hated each other. I DEFINITELY don’t get why people come to the conclusion that they hated each other PRE crash, because there’s nothing negative show between them when we DO see other girls be bitchy to Nat and make fun of Jackie’s earnestness, but it’s never these two against each other. Nat is very vocally anti freeze her out, everyone knows innately that Jackie would be without even asking. I’ve spoken about their fight at length before, so without getting too far into that I will just say I think the way it escalates and gets so emotional and personal is very very telling. I don’t think they’ve fought before, Nat is clearly more emotional than when the other girls are cruel to her which I think means she didn’t expect it from Jackie, Nat hits back with a threat/fights back instead of brushing it off like she usually does. I think it’s fucking tragic that they fought and never got to reconcile, because they both are the type to hold guilt and sadness over that shit. Them teaming up at doomcoming against the crazy, the way Jackie would’ve lived if Nat were home for her and Shauna’s fight, the eulogy Nat gives Jackie when she takes her bones to the plane. They are just tragic and beautiful and we’re robbed of the chance to be truly close friends, because I really do think that’s the trajectory they were on.

Jackienat platonically: oh GOD do I love them. I can’t wait to explore their dynamic in we practice resurrection every night. I talked a lot about how I think they’d be close above but I also heavily hc that jackienat and shaunalottie each made out at least one party in high school respectively. They are so special to me. Sweet girls with huge hearts and very curated protective exteriors beloved beloved beloved.

Jackienat romantically: I love it so much. I am a jackieshauna and lottienat at heart (clearly lmao) but I LOVE them as a stop on the way to those endgames. I think they’d be surprisingly soft and sweet as a pairing and I think that they’d be able to help each other through the ummmm tougher times of shauna and lottie’s less than ideal behaviors lol. (I LOVE BOTH SHAUNA AND LOTTIE DEEPLY but they have some very rough tendencies that would be hard as their partner and I think some commitment issues/stumbling blocks to get to a healthy (healthy for yj) relationship status, just objectively lmao). Jackienat is hot and fun and kind and loving and the type of young dyke relationship that leads to really close lifelong friendship no one can ever change my mind on that <3 they should kiss <3

[autumnmobile12]

All right, it's been almost year since Nocturne aired and I think my lack of enthusiasm really showed in that my Nocturne posts are pretty nonexistent compared to Castlevania. I've gone over my points in the few posts regarding my issues with the series. Most of them are personal preferences and not so much a writing problem. Richter and Marira are the types of character I don't like, so that automatically makes me less inclined to enjoy Nocturne right out of the gate. Again, personal preference and I'm hoping it's just part of their development and they'll be more likable as the series progresses. As I've said in previous posts, I'll continue Nocturne when Season 2 drops, but I'm more invested in Annette and Olrox's characters.

...

Julia's death, though, is still something that really bothers me.

Setting aside the obvious refrigeration here, she really got screwed over.  On the surface, dying in battle protecting her son is a good death, but here’s what ruined it:

Her last words to Richter are,  “I’m so sorry.”

Why is this a problem? Take this scene from the perspective lens of Julia, not the audience or the plot.  There is a dangerous vampire on the offensive in front of her.  He challenged her, not the other way around.  She knew his name and what he was capable of, and she did not hesitate to try to take him down to defend herself and her child. In this circumstance, she was a defender, not a hunter.  As a Belmont, killing Olrox is the objective.

But Julia doesn’t know Olrox is going to spare Richter!

Olrox is a vampire and he’s pissed; from Julia’s point of view, kiddo is next on the hit list.  She has no reason to believe Olrox won’t kill her son.  So she’s pinned and losing the fight, has limited options, is losing her strength, and at the point she realizes she can’t do this and that she’s going to die here, she turns to Richter and says she’s sorry.

Yeah, sorry she’s going to die and the Belmont line is going extinct tonight apparently.  Again, she has no reason to believe Olrox won’t kill Richter.

For this scene to have worked the way the writers intended, her last words, at the very least, should have been, “Run, get away!”  Or something like that.  Or they could have given her a true death in battle by letting her have that classic anime surge of energy and motivation that only the most dogged of characters have, you know——“Over my dead body are you killing my boy!”——and dying that way.

She didn’t die protecting her son.

She gave up and died. She, a Belmont, gave up and died.

She did her ancestors dirty, and therefore, the writers did her dirty.  If you’re going to kill off a character for the plot of the protagonist, especially a woman (because this happens way more often to a female character than a male,) at least do them the dignity a good death.  Make it worthy.

But getting back to the refrigeration issue, I have mixed feelings about that.  On the one hand, if they really wanted the ‘dead parent trauma’ trope, I guess I appreciate that it was Richter’s mother and not his father and therefore just another run-of-mill male hunter.  But still, we did need something a little more original than this. Even though Lisa was part of the original games and her only lore was the 'dead mother trope,' Castlevania Netflix gave her more than that: She was a doctor, she was intelligent, she was kind and always tried to do right by others. It's not a lot, but with the short amount of time Lisa is onscreen, she was given something fans could remember her for aside from 'the woman who died.' Castlevania honored the content of the original plot while expanding on it and giving it more substance.

Julia is not from the original video games, and in spite of endless possibilities they had, Nocturne still went with the 'woman whose tragic death drives the protagonist.'

The body count of dead women in Nocturne is so uncomfortable that when Edouard was killed, my immediate reaction was not the emotional response the writers probably wanted.  It was, “Oh, thank goodness, a dude finally died.  Between the two dead moms and the dead sister, we were running out of room in the fridge.”  At least Edouard and Jacques still have the benefit of still being active characters instead of plot devices and, yeah, of course I was sad to see Edouard go, but I am still irritated about what they did to Julia.

[dinogoofymutated]

    “We are a couple, yes? I was under the impression you wanted to take things slowly.” He smiles. You think back to every time he walked you to your room, or helped you in the kitchen, or brought you gifts, and wonder if you really had been missing all the signs to the point where you were clueless about your own romantic relationship with him.” -That one fic where Y/N ogles at farmboy Piotr (ALSO WDYM SUNDRESS)

     “You know, I get that we’re on two different sides of things- but you know that the school’s doors are always open to those who need it, right?” You ask, late one night after he had crawled into bed by your side. You were facing him, hand curling on the pillow an inch away from his face, fighting the urge to brush his bangs away from his forehead. Immediately, he has a negative reaction to it. He scowls, recoiling away from you as he glares. You know it should hurt worse than it does, but all you can see is the hurt he's feeling right now.” - Enemies to lovers Pietro

And that one where Morph turns into Warren in a bar, I LOVE those parts

HECK YEAH OKAY SO

1. Piotr legit just thought they were dating the entire time. I know that technically he's a little more blunt and would ask/bring up dating before deciding they're a couple, but for this fic I really wanted to do that one trope so I wrote it in like he just assumed they were together and didn't have a label yet. He knows how nervous and flighty she can be around him and although she hasn't said anything, it's pretty clear to him that she likes him a lot. So he just assumed they they were a couple and she just needed some time to relax around him before they got to the smoochy stuff!!

As for the sundress, it's written In the actual hc parts in like one scentance and then later at the ending but it was originally supposed to be more prominent in the fic!! I just ran out of steam lol. In the original outline, I was gonna have him pull her into his lap while she's struggling for her words (the "I am listening" part) and be distracting her by running his hands up her thighs. It was so cute but I thought that it would be too forward for him to do seeing as he's waited the whole time to be in her comfort level.

2. THE PIETRO FIC GOD I LOVE THAT ONE SO MUCH ITS MY PRIDE AN JOY. My brainchild I'll never have the energy to make into a full fic!! The behind the scenes for this is that Pietro has been getting way in over his head with shit, and every time he returns to reader's room they get closer and closer. Atp he's kinda ignoring the romantic tension because he's just after some comfort. His crawling into her bed to just sleep or cuddle or feel safe is a regular thing by then, and it's starting to make them really worried about Pietro because it's obvious he only goes to her when he's upset (which he is frequently. Totally not over petty things. Definitely not bc he needs an excuse to see her.)

I love writing cherik parallels in their relationship because there's something so tragic about desperately trying to reach someone and let them know that you'd fistfight their demons bare-handed to help them heal, and yet it's those same demons that keep them away from you and make them think you're just there to pity them.

3. THE MORPH FIC ASDGSHAJAJAJ to be honest the behind the scenes for that one was just because I wanted to show how morph projects/Handles their insecurities!! They're trying to "test the waters" and try to find out what the reader's type is because maybe if he becomes more like that type he won't risk the reader leaving (which obs we wouldn't)

(Also I love warren so cameo)

[cinderfeather]

Short Story Writing Tips for Fanfic Authors

While Edgar Allen Poe has many pretentious things to say on the merits of the Short Story (‘a work of art should be able to achieve its effect in one sitting’), I want to talk about them from a fanfiction perspective.

As fic writers, we are doing this hobby for fun, and frequently find ourselves hopping between shiny new idea, to shiny new idea, to shiny new idea…

...which is totally fine. However: to reduce this, I want to impress this upon you:

Keep your fic short enough to write within the span of dopamine it generates.

So while it’s still easy to generate long plots, I usually like to keep my stories small and focused wherever possible, so I can feel proud about ✨finishing✨ it and then have more energy to work on the next idea. In addition, if I have an idea tha t I think is cool, but not something I can fathom spending an entire year writing a novel-length-fic about, I can still write the idea if I think carefully about how I can work it into a short story.

Often writers way things like: 'I have 30k words to write just to get to the fun bit 😭😭😭'

Just write the fun bit.

It might be one thing for me to say that, but learning a bit of craft about short stories can make this easier.

So: one of the hardest things in a story is the ending, and short stories (especially origific) can be very challenging to create a satisfying ending with so little to work with.

In short story craft, there is a lot of talk about things like Hemingway’s ‘Iceberg Theory’:

Hemingway said that only the tip of the iceberg showed in fiction—your reader will see only what is above the water—but the knowledge that you have about your character that never makes it into the story acts as the bulk of the iceberg. And that is what gives your story weight and gravitas. — Jenna Blum in The Author at Work, 2013 (Wikipedia Link)

Fanfic is great for this! You already have a ton of character and plot fleshed out, so you can already have your iceberg while putting very little effort in. Short stories are already much easier as fic because they already have the 'iceberg of canon' beneath them, so make the most of it!

The next trick is ✨Authors Notes✨!

You can just say the background info plainly to the reader, without having to worry about crafting it nicely for the reader.

However, if you feel that the background info might be served best by putting it into the story, then let me introduce you to the next trick: Telling!

Think about summary the you have in your AN, and expand it into slightly longer ‘pretty’ prose:

Months went by. Trees bloomed, and forsook their leaves. One day, Mina stepped outside again.

That covers a year of a character being stuck in their grief, without having to mire reader in being stuck like that too.

We’ve all had ‘Show, don’t tell’ beaten into us with a hammer. But if it’s not important or interesting for you or your story, then just Tell it, and move on to the next exciting thing! What you want to do is research ways to use prose to convey the passing of time, write summaries and transition sequences, and work out ways to cut down and remove ‘all that writing you have to do to get to the fun scene’.

So, let’s say you had an idea for an achingly beautiful Suparbat story that worked like a Shakespearean tragedy inspired by Othello. You start brainstorming and writing fragments of all these scenes where they meet, fall in love, then have all these gradual misunderstandings caused by Lex trying to meddle and break them apart.

They pile up super high, and then there is this devastating, heart-pounding finale where they fight, along with the tragic ending and denouement.

You take your notes and start trying to plan out what scenes you will need, and your face goes pale as you estimate the story will probably be about 80k words.

You can’t commit to that, and you sense another shiny idea might be lurking on the horizon soon (and besides, you have other fics to finish). You consider abandoning it, resigned to the beauty of the story haunting you forever.

Hold up.

The tragic fight scene. That’s the one that excites you the most. Start writing that.

Bam, bam bam.

Why are they fighting? The audience is now curious and hooked, sitting breathless on the edge of their seat.

Line of dialogue! Ultra specific accusation!

Now the reader is intellectually hooked. What event is this specific detail referring to?

Flashback to one of the scenes where they met and were tenderly in love, linked by the line of dialogue before.

Now the reader is emotionally hooked. What happened to make them hate each other so?

The fight scene continues! Dramatic moments of action interspersed with flashbacks of those snippets you wrote—

Now the reader has been enthralled by all this awesome action, and has a good grasp of emotional arc and events that brought them to this point, with the juxtaposition of the moments of love and hate creating a tremendous experience.

The fatal wound, juxtaposed by the fatal misunderstanding that set Batman on this path… Those painful words exchanged in the present, that have been stuck in your head for weeks: Why? I loved you! Lex (aka Iago) comes out, doing a slow clap, and revealing how he plotted and schemed to sow this discord between Batman and Superman, to make Batman kill Superman for him. The achingly haunting moment of looking into each others eyes and Superman forgiving and trying to absolve Batman of his guilt before he dies. Bruce swiftly disabling Lex’s failsafe (to stop him from taking revenge, but its useless because he’s Batman) and holding a batarang to Lex’s throat.

Now you’ve used 80% of your notes, and you have a decent first draft already!

So now, what will Batman do? Break his moral code about killing again (he already did with Superman) and kill Lex? Try to set Lex on a path of rehabilitation?

So then you get stuck. But Cinder, this doesn’t work for me! All I can think of is to end it the same way as Othello! Which I can’t bear to write.

Hold up.

Go back over your story and start tightening it up. The idea that Bruce is willing to kill someone is quite important. Go back and add flashbacks (or add context to the existing flashbacks) about Bruce developing, sticking to or explaining his no-kill rule.

Then you write an epilogue, where a reformed Lex starts making all kinds of structural changes in the world, alongside all the people who stepped up after being inspired by Superman’s life and determination to let everyone have a chance at forgiveness. After this, you realise that the last line Superman needs to say is to beg Bruce not to continue his murder-rampage and kill Lex.

Then you go back over your story again, fleshing out Lex’s character and some of the hints and lines of dialogue he drops to round out his arc as well. The story feels nice, but still a little off. The ending of Othello haunts you. Do you need to kill Batman after all?

You try writing the scene with the climax ending on: ‘Now, the only way: the Bat will die upon the light.’

Then, as you edit the last bit of the epilogue, you add at the end that Bruce is still alive, observing it all, having hung up his cape as Batman, (because how else could their love end after this but with ‘Batman’ dying with him?). With the transformation that happened for both Lex and Bruce when he honoured Clark’s last wish, this meant that world also grew into a place where Batman wasn’t needed anymore.

So there you have a beautiful short story about not just love and romance, but grief and betrayal and death and killing and absolution and forgiveness and a love that grows beyond a romantic entanglement into a love that changes the world— 🥰🥰🥰

And under 3000 words.

Now other people will be haunted by your story for the rest of their lives, instead of you.

You will have to edit harder if you try to write as concisely as this, but overall I think you’ll get more stories finished if you experiment with focusing on writing the exciting bits, then sprinkling just enough scene fragments to make it work.

I often write out an idea for a few thousand words, till I get stuck, then go back over it and start thinking about how I can reorder and tweak it to bring what I already have to a satisfying ending.

It requires fumbling and sitting and thinking and figuring it out as I’m revising (as you saw in the example) but if you keep focused on making things shorter you’ll be surprised at just how short you can make it.

And how many things you can finish!

[starqueensthings]

Surprise self-rec time! Pick 3 of your favorite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics 💞

First of all, when the heck did my anon function turn on 😆 I genuinely thought I’d had that shit turned off! Apparently not!

Second, I heckin love when these self rec chains go around. There is little more beautiful in this world than watching a creator gush about their work when given the platform to do so… something they’re so proud of… something that brought them so much joy, all they want to do is share it with the people they love.

In true Holly fashion, I am going to be long winded about this, so please accept a read more as to not clutter up your feed.

1. Colder Weather - A 3-part post-stasis/Pirate Kix x fem!reader ficlet that promises to punch you right in the heart. This is probably the most emotional thing I’ve ever written, and while I know it’s not for everyone… boy am I ever proud of it.

2. Dork Love - A 4-part Tech x GN!reader ficlet that was supposed to only be one, but pulled a Miley Cyrus and couldn’t be tamed. It’s a mostly lighthearted little story about hard work, altruism, navigating a sudden and unexpected crush, and how one’s perception is not always reality. Because the fandom is extremely protective about Tech and his characterization in fanon extensions of canon, I’m sure this won’t be for everyone either… but writing something that read ND!Tech x ND!Reader was important to me.

3. The Only Exception - A fem!OC x Captain Howzer Longfic. I started writing it what feels like a lifetime ago, and I swore to my distant ancestors that it would never see anyone’s eyes but my own… That plan changed when I met some very supportive, OC-loving friends that encouraged me to share it with the world, and I’ve since been slowly tweaking it chapter by chapter to ensure my passive verbs and run-on sentences are brought to a level that’s readable for others hahaha it’s a very slow work in progress, but it’s the most throughout, detailed work I’ve ever funnelled energy into, and I’ll forever cherish June and her experiences learning and growing. (Not a self insert, though I wish it was. June is more bad ass than I could ever hope to be, though she has no clue.)

**snippets below the cut**

1. Colder Weather - Part One

Those optimistic moments often saw you rambling, thoughts slipping easily from mind to mouth in a desperate attempt to keep him connected to you; resolute in keeping him both physically and mentally present; urgently trying to protect him from the monster on his shoulders long enough for him to realize that everything he could ever want was lying peacefully beside him. Periodically, if your chosen topic was one he found particularly amusing, his eyes would crinkle under the embrace of a smile, and — if the universe deemed you worthy that night — a hoarse chuckle would pour from his lips. Despite your continued pleas to the stars, it was a sound that graced your ears with a tragic infrequence, yet the way its radiance illuminated your soul had you shamelessly begging the universe that it continue to spill from his lips for all eternity.

But despite the prophetic bond that kept him returning to your side, only once had the bliss of your union softened his guard enough to let something… slip. Only once had he mentioned a brother: Jesse, a man spoken of thoughtlessly as Kix snickered his way through the recollection of a frantic speeder ride across the plains of Saleucami. But the music of his laughter utterly vanished upon voicing the name that he never meant to speak, the silence that filled its wake so polluted in unexpressed grief, that even the hushed sounds of your breath felt inappropriate, and despite having watched the light leave his eyes so often in the past, you’d never seen it replaced with a darkness as deep and as sorrowful as then.

“Tell me about him,” you probed instantly, hopeful that the delicate touch of your hand on his shoulder would be enough to ground him there in the bed with you; hopeful that the soft caress of your fingers would prevent him from conceding to his anguish, tossing the sheet aside and leaving you with nothing but the familiar sight of his retreating back and the bittersweet smell of him lingering on your pillow.

2. Dork Love - Part Four.

“An apology is not required,” Tech spoke instead. “It would appear that I jumped to an inaccurate conclusion upon arriving here to find you missing. It was a most uncharacteristic overreaction, and one from which I now-suffer a great compunction.”

“Compunction?” you repeated, brows furrowing at the implications of his confession as you reached to pull the coils from his shoulder. “Why?”

Tech hesitated for only a breath, watching your nimble fingers blanch under the weight of the wire as you took it from him. “Well… several years of advanced training and exposure therapy have rendered me effectively inured to a multitude of scenarios that others may deem distressing,” he divulged as something near concern wiped the smile from your lips. “Yet, I failed to maintain control of my emotions in the face of your disappearance. I became largely inexorable, making objectively impetuous and questionable decisions.”

“Tech,” you uttered in little more than a consoling whisper, his stomach lurching as your free hand collected his from somewhere near his hip, those slightly chilled fingers weaving their way in between his before the soft, consoling brush of your thumb nearly weakened his knees. “There is nothing to regret. Worrying about someone is nothing to be ashamed of, and arguably even less so if that person is someone you care greatly about. In fact, an initial surge of panic followed by attempts to verify their safety is likely the expected psychological response to such concerns. You walked into what looked like a very foreboding situation and had no data to disprove your suspected theory.”

“I suppose that is correct,” Tech shrugged, dropping his gaze to the toe of his oily boot, “Though it has been several years since I last studied the sympathetic subsection of the autonomic nervous system in response to traumatic stimuli.”

“Sounds like an interesting read,” you mumbled through a sarcastic smile that prompted the return of his gaze. “Tell me– if the same situation presented itself again, would you not react similarly? Would you not do everything within your power to make sure that someone was okay while everything around you was telling you they’re not?”

“Of course I would.”

“Then that’s that,” you answered simply. “There’s no reason to regret your actions, just like I don't suffer any contempt for getting myself stuck on Ryloth. Making the trip there was the best and potentially only solution based on the information available to me at the time. Things went awry… and that’s okay, because we should always do what our gut is telling us to do when it comes to things and people that we care greatly about.”

And there it was: that intemerate benevolence that he wholly adored about you, reemerging to knock him over the head with a validation that he’d never experienced before… and the subsequent moment, as his eyes locked on yours and his grip on your hand tightened, he felt truly seen as himself. Not Tech the highly-skilled soldier… not Tech the ingenious mechanic responsible for keeping the GAR’s most elite squad in the air… not Tech the pilot who loved his datapad above all else and never slept. You saw Tech… accepting and welcoming him as he is; validating his infrequent displays of vulnerability as if humanity was something he could and should experience first hand without fear of persecution or judgement.

“Oh, and don’t think I didn’t catch that,” you added, brow shifting into a devious arch as a playful smirk tugged at your lips.

“Catch what, exactly?”

“The oxymoron you dropped in there: ‘found you missing’. Someone can’t be found and missing, hun. But keep dropping them– I’ll catch ‘em every time.”

3. The Only Exception - Chapter Two.

‘He’s just a soldier,’ she reminded herself with a snort of self-directed derision, desperately trying to extract her password from the depths of her distracted brain.

And he was. There was nothing overtly different or unusual about CT–5863 in relation to the hundred-or-so other clones that had passed in and out of her care since the war began. Quite frankly, there couldn’t be anything different about him, it was genetically impossible. So why had one look from this set of honeyed eyes seen her stomach careening into the next dimension and her nerves prickling as if every shift of his gaze left a trail atop her skin?

Thrice she tried and failed to enter her secure information into that software, yet its repeated beeps toward the inevitable system lock-out fell on entirely deaf ears, and it wasn’t until the screen strobed that she’d near-reached the maximum login attempts did some glimmer of awareness surge back to her.

“I’m Dr. Kiore,” June told him, attempting to banish that myriad of improper thoughts by corralling every cooperating neuron into entering her password, and the breath she’d unintentionally held in her lungs was granted their escape atop a sigh of relief as that familiar landing screen emerged in front of her. “What’s your name?”

“CT–58—”

“No, Captain, your name.”

“My name?” A puzzled pause preceded his answer, that brief second of hesitation having failed to lessen any of the obvious confusion behind those two words, and the notion that she may have to formally explain such a simple concept was the first to pull a smile to June’s lips.

But, “Howzer.” He recovered quickly, offering his name in the same tone he’d used upon hearing her tap on the door, and the small creases now wreathing those twinkling eyes as they narrowed in something close to suspicion entirely laid bare his continued bewilderment at her behaviour.

“Howzer,” she repeated, offering him a casual smile as she swiped her finger across the monitor and entered the information next to his designation number. “It’s nice to meet you.”

A moment’s innocent silence fell between them as she typed, masterfully toggling between different pages of his medical chart and familiarizing herself with the details of his treatment history. For an active soldier, particularly one that appeared as if he’d spent several respite-free rotations laying in the foreign dirt of a distant planet, his chart was remarkably vacant, the only few noted injuries being quickly treated in the field and recorded somewhat haphazardly by the trio of different medics who had seen him.

“I– I think that might be the first time a civilian’s asked me that,” he contemplated under his breath, eyes unfocussing as he rubbed that dirty palm across the stubble on his chin

“Yeah, well… they were supposed to ask downstairs,” June scoffed, the grumble swaddling her tone readily exposing the disdain for the repeated shortcomings of her colleagues. “I’ve asked them four billion times to try and remember, but of course no one listens to the youngest.”

While his lungs expanded to utter what was undoubtedly going to be another humorous quip, the sentiment was stolen off his tongue by a sudden and salient cringe of discomfort. In that otherwise banal motion of sitting up straight, hand reaching upward to thoughtlessly push those dark waves further back from his forehead, a spasm of pain quickly froze his actions, that sharp jaw quickly clenching behind olive cheeks as a muted grunt rumbled in his chest.

[darklinaforever]

I have to say that after taking a look at the Doctor Who fandom, I am quite shocked at this insistence of some people in wanting to absolutely specify that Tentoo is in fact a clone of the Doctor ?!

We have seen clones in this series and clearly Tentoo is not one of them. So, what is this insistence on contradicting the canon ? Tentoo is simply the doctor.

Our doctor himself doesn't even seem to dissociate himself from Tentoo ! He recognizes it as him.

That's all. It comes from the regeneration energy itself and from the hand of our doctor. It's not a clone ! Having already seen them in this universe should tell you this simple fact.

In the words of David Tenant : "It's the same guy." Yes, I know he also says "But clearly he's not.", but that's probably in the sense that he's no longer our doctor. Same guy, but separated after the regeneration in different bodies, including one human, which offers them different opportunities. Once again, the only notable difference is that he's human, influencing his decisions after regeneration. Even if the regeneration itself naturally involves some minimal changes at Tentoo : The fact of being a little more like Nine, logical, since regenerated in the middle of the war after being shot and dying. Plus a few expressions from Donna, as he always takes from his companions after regeneration. But apart from a few minor changes, he remains the doctor. He is the Tenth Doctor who evolved in another direction after the regeneration that made him human. As simple as that. I mean... Have you seen how David Tennant plays him ? He doesn't play a new doctor with a new personality. No. He simply plays his character, as he always has.

I can't understand people who accept the very essential concept of Doctor Who as that what makes the Doctor are his memories and experiences (the very essence of an individual according to the universe itself), and not his body or his personality ! By the fact what makes Tentoo less of a doctor than everyone else outside of the first Ten ?!

Yes. This situation is sad for our doctor, the first ten, who will be forced to move on in relation to Rose. (His final moments of just him with Rose being their reunion hug, when they briefly teasingly discuss Rose building the canon to come back, and when they hold hands facing Davros.) But it's a scenario that makes sense with the writing of the series. It was that or Rose ends up unhappy, or worse, dies. It's the ultimate way to have a happy ending despite the inevitable tragedy for Rose and the Doctor's relationship. We have the right to a tragic and happy ending at the same time. Can you imagine how crazy and unique this is in Doctor Who ?!

And beyond that, I don't see why Tentoo should be denied. He is a living being who remains the same man with the same desires. Except that he can achieve them unlike his counterpart. Again, it's tragic, but it's also happy. Somehow, even if Ten had to die/regenerate to evolve and mourn who he was, a version of himself, in a parallel universe, was able to survive and obtain everything he always wanted. It is particularly moving. Whether directly or symbolically, especially in the context of the romance with Rose. It is literally his love for Rose, and his desire to be human, which also came from Rose when she renewed her love for the human race, that he prevented regeneration and caused by an incredible chance his biological metacrisis ! But I won't go into it because others have done it much better than me. The only thing I will say about it in this post is that it is objectively one of the best romances ever written. (Let's forget the episode with Madame de Pompadour...)

[ryncorrect]

The Ssum 2 is actually... not that bad?

It has been 14-ish days since The Ssum: Love From Today (or The Ssum Season 2 if we must) was released. We were introduced to a new character named June, a blonde cutie pie that looks kinda sad (?) and fragile (?) and reminds me of Yoosung from the very first picture release. His voice and the way he talks even gives off Yoosung vibe even more. The spoiler stated, “He has ties to someone from Mystic Messenger,” and I was like, OKAY YOOSUNG????? Or perhaps a little far off, RIKA????? Then bam it’s actually—welp if you haven’t played it yet then I’ll let you find it out yourself lol

The revelation received mixed reaction from “wtf” to “WTF??” and I gotta admit I was one of them who was like,,,,, why,,,,, but it didn’t get to make me stop playing June route because:

- The writing in this season actually gets better

Teo route was boring af (spoiler alert?) boi kept doing part time jobs, we got two couple fights that didn’t even make sense, and somehow he ended up getting involved in a cult like ??????? I know they were trying to build a slow pacing relationship that lasted 200 days and added many “realistic” things but fam this aint it. And don’t get me started with the waiting time in between his chats, like 20+ minutes to wait for him climbing a hill, in a bed time chat? Nah fuk u man

Harry route.... god I hate don’t like it very much because 1) he doesn’t make it easy for me at all, 2) some of MC options in the chat are either gold-diggerish, or very jealous, or mean, or ignorant, and I don’t wanna be that kinda person

Don’t get me wrong, Teo and Harry are good characters and their designs are cool but the storytelling... is really all over the place

Since the writer from Cheritz’s previous games including Mysme is making a comeback in this season for June, playing his route now I can really see the difference. June started off falling in love instantly for MC and in only like 5 days I found out he has terminal disease. Nice. Tragic and angsty and very Mysme of you, June

BUT other than that, the conversation flows nicely, not too short and too long, the waiting time is reasonable, and I love how we get to talk about the planets thing in the chat; MC telling June to write in Gratitude Diary, June telling MC that he likes to read stuffs in Root of Desire, Piu-Piu advising us to look around the planets as we wait for June. It makes a huge difference for me. The whole meeting-a-fateful-stranger-in-some-random-app concept feels more realistic, and those planets are now part of the story and not just there to... exist. Though, it does make me wonder if June has this battery thing going on for him too, and if that’s why he doesn’t call us as often as Teo used to (but I’m still on day 10 and he’s currently trying to recover his health, so perhaps he probably just doesn’t get the energy and time to call us often lolol)

AND I KINDA LIKE PIU-PIU HERE. It feels... useful and friendly now. Piu-Piu in Teo route feels like a mean sassy bird and Piu-Piu in Harry route is just weird and likes to invade people’s privacy

- June having ties with Mysme character

Yes, this is also another reason I keep playing. Finding out that this new lovable character has a relationship with one of my favorite characters from one of my favorite games? I’m sold. I don’t care if this is just some way of Cheritz to get Mysme players into The Ssum. They have the right to do so—I mean it’s their game??? Some people are also saying that Cheritz should just release another contents for Mysme rather than doing this with The Ssum, and I think that’s valid. But Mysme has been running for years already, and keeping an otome game around for this long must be very hard. Releasing another content for Mysme means that Cheritz must gather their old writers, old artists, and old voice actors and perhaps they don’t have the resources to do so

Ofc this reason might not be true and Cherits just simply doesn’t want to work on Mysme anymore, and that’s their decision I’d like to respect

Also, if Teo and Harry made me miss Mysme because of their poor writing, June here actually makes me want to play Mysme again because he’s related to ***** and it’s fun being able to see ***** from different perspective

Moreover I’d rather be a gf of June who has half-brother (oops) from Mysme than being Zen’s ex. Wtf was that

And who knows? Maybe we will get another chara who’s related to V next????? Idk tho it might be too much of a stretch but I’m not gonna complain lol

- Cheritz is trying their very best

Them using AI art is wrong, and they have addressed that issue so I won’t repeat it here. I just wanna acknowledge their effort in making a game we would enjoy. They're pretty fast in handling and responding to our complaints, they still give us some battery freebies in the game so people who can't afford batteries or subscription can save them to play, and tbh you don't have to purchase every paid option in the chat too (I know I don't). Some players also share the paid pictures online, so you can decide to pay just for the pictures you wanna keep. We have a friendly and helpful community ;_;

The subscription price is still too much for many players and I myself can’t afford it every month because I have a family to feed, but I try to understand that in the end Cheritz is still an independent company that has to make profit. They have to pay rent, their employees, and people who work with them. I encourage people who can afford to keep supporting them, and those who can’t, I’m sure Cheritz appreciates our support and feedback just as much!

In conclusion, I just love them and I hope they keep up with the hard work

I want to say much more tbh but I’m kinda tired so now I’ll get back to work—while waiting for June for our lunch chat