#you can tell its a man writing from a womans perspective

[fleurcaptive]

I'll be on my deathbed and will never get over the fact that they chose a man to continue VC Andrews' legacy.

[haggishlyhagging]

In 1847 the stereotypes for male and female writers were very rigid. Critics expected from a male writer strength, passion, and intellect, and from a woman writer they expected tact, refinement, and piety. They depended on these stereotypes so much, in fact, that they really didn't know how to proceed, what to say, or what to look for in a book if they were unsure of the author's sex.

So Jane Eyre created a tremendous sensation, and it was a problem for the Brontës. The name Currer Bell could be that of either a man or a woman and the narrator of Jane Eyre is Jane herself. The book is told as an autobiography. These things suggested that the author might have been a woman. On the other hand, the novel was considered to be excellent, strong, intelligent and, most of all, passionate. And therefore, the critics reasoned, it could not be written by a woman, and if it turned out that it was written by a woman, she had to be unnatural and perverted.

The reason for this is that the Victorians believed that decent women had no sexual feelings whatsoever—that they had sexual anesthesia. Therefore, when Jane says about Rochester that his touch "made her veins run fire, and her heart beat faster than she could count its throbs," the critics assumed this was a man writing about his sexual fantasies. If a woman was the author, then presumably she was writing from her own experience, and that was disgusting. In this case we can clearly see how women were not permitted the authority of their own experience if it happened to contradict the cultural stereotype.

But even more shocking than this to the Victorians was Jane's reply to Rochester, a very famous passage in the novel. He has told her he is going to marry another woman, an heiress, but that she can stay on as a servant. Jane answers him thus:

"I tell you I must go," I retorted, roused to something like passion. "Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton, a machine without feeling and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I'm soulless and heartless? You think wrong. I have as much soul as you and full as much heart. And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should've made it as hard for you to leave me as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionality, nor even of mortal flesh. It is my spirit that addresses your spirit, just as if both had passed through the grave and we stood at God's feet equal—as we are."

This splendid assertion violated not only the standards of sexual submission, which were believed to be women's duty and their punishment for Eve's crime, but it also went against standards of class submission, and obviously against religion. And this sort of rebellion was not feminine at all.

The reviews of Jane Eyre in 1847 and 1848 show how confused the critics were. Some of them said Currer Bell was a man. Some of them, including Thackeray, said a woman. One man, an American critic named Edgar Percy Whipple, said the Bells were a team, that Currer Bell was a woman who did the dainty parts of the book and brother Acton the rough parts. All kinds of circumstantial evidence were adduced to solve this problem, such as the details of housekeeping. Harriet Martineau said the book had to be the work of a woman or an upholsterer. And Lady Eastlake, who was a reviewer for one of the most prestigious journals, said it couldn't be a woman because no woman would dress her heroines in such outlandish clothes.

Eventually Charlotte Brontë revealed her identity, and then these attacks which had been general became personal. People introduced her as the author of a naughty book; they gossiped that she was Thackeray's mistress. They speculated on the causes of what they called "her alien and sour perspective on women." She felt during her entire short life that she was judged always on the basis of what was becoming in femininity and not as an artist.

-Elaine Showalter, ‘Women Writers and the Female Experience’ in Radical Feminism, Koedt et al (eds.)

[marybeatriceofmodena]

What did Andrew Lloyd Webber do to make Patti Lupone upset? Sorry, saw your tags and i was curious

Oh.

Oh honey.

You sweet child.

Anyway, get ready for one of the most infamous showdowns in all musical theatre history, with the guy who writes the straightest musicals on Broadway (derogatory) and the one and only, the matriarch, the queen, two three-time Tony award winner Patti LuPone.

So, Andrew Lloyd Webber was basically kind of a boy genius in his prime - he met his future collaborator Tim Rice when they were 17 and 20 respectively, he wrote his first big hit, Jesus Christ Superstar, at 22, with Tim Rice writing the lyrics. And it was kind of a big deal at the time because the topic was controversial (you know, the Passion with rock music), but also because Broadway wasn't that far off from its golden age and let's just say the music and style were very different from, say, My Fair Lady. Or The Sound of Music. Or Funny Girl. It was basically the Rent/Hamilton of its time. (Yeah, Stephen Sondheim was around at that time, he worked on West Side Story which was revolutionary in of itself, but he's kind of an oddball in this case. You'll understand why later.)

Their real follow up (I'm not counting Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for a variety of reasons) was a little musical called Evita, which you might know mainly because of a song called Don't Cry For Me Argentina. Or at least, your mom has probably heard it once at the very least. It's that song that's oversung from a musical while being out of context along with I Dreamed a Dream for Les Misérables. Or Memory from Cats.

Evita tells the story of Eva Peron, the wife of an Argentinian dictator, who basically screws her way to the top and ends up becoming the mistress of Juan Peron and the most beloved woman in her country through guile and deceit. Yes, I know the historical accuracy is very much debated but I know jackshit about Argentina's history except the bare basics so don't come at me. It was first produced in the West End in London, with Elaine Paige in the role, but because of Equity issues, she couldn't reprise her role for the Broadway production. So a Julliard graduate who was mostly starring in David Mamet plays got the part instead, and that was Patti LuPone.

Patti... did not have a good time during Evita, because the part is basically the kind of score where you can tell the composer is used to writing male parts, but most female singers have a two-octave range (yes, you got Julie Andrews who used to have a three-octave range, and many others, but they're exceptions), so she struggled a lot. That being said, if you listen to live recordings of her, you wouldn't be able to tell, and it got a lot easier later on. But she had this to say:

"Evita was the worst experience of my life. I was screaming my way through a part that could only have been written by a man who hates women. And I had no support from the producers, who wanted a star performance onstage but treated me as an unknown backstage. It was like Beirut, and I fought like a banshee."

This is from Patti's autobiography, which she wrote in 2007 - 8 years after shit with ALW went down. With all that said, she won a Tony Award for Evita, and she pretty much became a musical theatre household name from then on. She played Fantine in Les Misérables, Nancy in Oliver!, Reno Sweeney in Anything Goes. Meanwhile, ALW's next big hits were Cats (I'm not even kidding, Cats was a hit), and, you guessed it, The Phantom of the Opera, which he wrote in part to showcase his then wife Sarah Brightman's triple threat talents.

So, you need to understand before I continue that ALW, from my perspective, has always had a bit of an inferiority complex. He's basically associated to writing these commercially successful musicals that show a big spectacle but aren't ultimately substantial. I'm not sure I entirely agree with that, but I do think that if he didn't have Hal Prince, Maria Bjornson, Charles Hart and Gillian Lynne backing him up for Phantom, it would have probably been a Rocky Horror Picture Show knockoff people would have forgotten about pretty quickly. This is what I mean:

Yep, that was Phantom before any of the people I mentioned above (and Michael Crawford) were really involved.

Remember how I said Stephen Sondheim was an oddball? The thing with him is that his musicals weren't always commercially successful, but in general, in part thanks to being Leonard Bernstein's protégé, he was generally pretty well-respected and it was considered that his work was bringing musicals to a whole other level. Without Sondheim, you wouldn't have Jonathan Larson, and you wouldn't have Lin-Manuel Miranda. I am convinced ALW is resentful of that, and when you stop and think about it for more than 10 seconds, it's so obvious he REALLY wants to be Sondheim or at least command the same level of respect, but that's a story for another day.

So, after Phantom, ALW had other musicals that followed that either got a meh reception or outright flopped. Then there was Sunset Boulevard, which is based on the movie of the same name with Gloria Swanson. Despite all of her griefs for Evita, Patti LuPone agreed to partake in the musical as Norma Desmond, for its production in London, with the promise that she would transfer to Broadway once that production would open. And overall, after a string of flops, Sunset was actually doing pretty well.

HOWEVER. One day, while reading the gossip column of a newspaper, Patti found out that contrary to what she was promised, Glenn Close, who was meanwhile starring as Norma in the Los Angeles production, was to play Norma on Broadway. That was a complete surprise for her since no one on the production team had bothered to tell her it was happening - and keep in mind that for the news to come up the way it did in a gossip column, it probably would have necessitated a delay of a few weeks between the producers and the newspaper, which would have given them plenty of time to break the news to Patti. And Patti kind of needed the leg up because she was pretty bitter that a) Madonna was cast in the Evita adaptation instead of her; b) they actually lowered the key to fit Madonna's voice range, and she still had to expand her own to be able to sing the (lowered) score. And trust me, Patti is mad about it to this day.

So of course, she trashed her dressing room, the cast and crew weren't even mad about it because they were as shocked and angered as she was by the news. Patti sued Andrew Lloyd Webber for breach of contract, namely for 1 MILLION DOLLARS (yup, those are the real numbers), won, used the money she got from the lawsuit to get a swimming pool, which she called (and I SHIT YOU NOT) the Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool. Since then, Webber is dead to her, to the point rumor has it she had part of a building blocked during an event so she could get out of it without coming across Webber, because she hates him so flipping much she doesn't even want to be in the same building as the guy.

(There's also drama that happened with Faye Dunaway who was supposed to replace Glenn Close after she went from Los Angeles to Broadway, except they abruptly closed the show down after Close left, but that's a story for another day)

So with all the bad press, and with ALW forced to pay 1 million dollars for Patti's lawsuit, that led Sunset's productions to close earlier than expected. ALW has stayed around since, with... mitigated output, so to say. The lowest point for a lot of people is Love Never Dies, the sequel to Phantom, which some people love, and that's fine, but it didn't do well with either critics nor fans of the original show, which ALW is EXTREMELY BUTTHURT ABOUT. And like, there are so many stories I could tell about LND alone, but I will share my own crack theory about it, since it does relate to the ask.

Anyway, buckle up.

So. There have been jokes going around for years that the Phantom in LND is basically ALW's self-insert, where he displays to the world that he's totally not over Sarah Brightman leaving him (in part because making Phantom kinda ruined their marriage lmao), despite, you know, having married since. (Aaaaaakward.) So LND basically becomes this really uncomfortable therapy session where a man writes a self-insert musical about how his ex-wife made a big mistake of leaving a sensitive artistic soul such as himself. The characters from Phantom who appear in LND are all more or less unrecognizable as a result, and one who gets it worse (in my humble opinion) is Meg Giry, who was basically Christine's sweet and loyal ballerina friend who basically went into the Phantom's lair on her own to save her friend despite the danger. In LND, she's basically a bitter hag (because ALW hates women, guess Patti was right about that), who really likes the swim and even has a stripping vaudeville number about it, written in universe by the Phantom, no less.

For comparison, here's Don Juan Triumphant (the Phantom's opera in the original):

And here's Bathing Beauty (the vaudeville number):

Yeah, so... do you see why people hate LND already?

And that's not the only thing with Meg! She's also pining for the Phantom to pay attention to her and threatens to drown the Phantom and Christine's secret love child when he makes it clear that he's gonna love Christine for EVA AND EVA.

So, with everything we learned today about ALW, would someone like him view someone like Patti LuPone as some sort of crazy, bitter diva who's obsessed with him for whatever reason? Absolutely. Would he be petty enough to insert Patti LuPone into his self-insert musical, which gave us the version of Meg Giry we got in LND? Of course. Why does Meg love to swim so much and why does she drag Gustave out ostensibly for a swim? Is it a dig at Patti's Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool? Maybe.

I kind of hope we find out one day if that theory is true. And maybe start a kickstarter so Patti can add this painting from the 2004 movie in her collection.

Fun fact: during the process of casting for the 2004 movie adaptation of POTO, ALW allegedly suggested Patti LuPone to play Carlotta... only for Joel Schumacher to have to awkwardly remind him that they were not on speaking terms. The idea was therefore promptly dropped.

[rvp32]

can u write short stories of chaeyoung (fromis_9). She's cheat from her husband with someone better at sex and bigger size

Chaeyoung finally got married after a lot of pressure from her parents, one of the main reasons she agreed to marry him was that he looked handsome.

The wedding was done and the couple was finally alone with each other, Chaeyoung didn't waste another second and she pulled her husband in for a kiss. The kiss wasn't too bad, but it felt messy almost like he didn't know how to kiss properly just pushing her tongue in and not moving his lips properly made the kiss feel uncomfortable. however, sadly for her, it wasn't going to be the only disappointment she had tonight. Soon the kissing stopped and he helped Chaeyeoung take off her clothes, reveling in her ethereal beauty. It was probably his first time seeing a woman naked given how impatient he was.

With absolutely no foreplay he pushed Chaeyoung onto the bed and soon after got rid of all his clothes except for his underwear. "Are you ready my wife?" He questioned as he slowly pulled down his underwear. There appeared the second disappointment of the night, his penis was tiny most likely smaller than Chaeyoung's pinky.

Chaeyoung had hoped that he was a grower and not a shower, and she needed to know so she got down from the bed onto her knees to get him hard, but sadly it only managed to grow an inch probably totaling a size of around 3 inches in its full glory. She tried to keep an open mind by telling herself that it was all in motion but in the back of her mind she knew that this was not going to be enough. His impatience showed again when he pulled Chaeyoung and pushed her onto the bed not caring about her at all.

Without any warning, he immediately pushed Chaeyoung's legs apart and pushed his penis into her with a massive groan. The groan was probably the only reason Chaeyoung could tell that he had put his cock inside. starting to pound her to the best of his ability without giving any time for Chaeyoung to adjust, though it's not like she really needed time to adjust to something so small.

Then came the highlight of the night, the last straw for Chaeyoung, within 2 minutes of inserting his cock into Chaeyoung he pulled out and blew his load all over Chaeyoung's abs. Not caring about Chaeyoung at all he fell beside her and soon fell asleep.

Chaeyoung felt horrible, not just because she married a tiny premature cock but also because she was used like a sex doll and left lying in bed with cum drying up on her stomach while her husband fell into a deep slumber.

Chaeyoung was questioning her decision to marriage, sex was one thing but he didn't seem to be kind or caring which Chaeyoung desperately desired after how badly her parents had always treated her.

This was all a bit too much for her, after cleaning herself up she went out of the hotel room to get some air and organize her thoughts a little. 

I can’t believe that I actually married that excuse of a man, how am I going to get out of this one? He put on a completely different facade before we got married. Chaeyoung thought as she walked the beach. 

After walking and enjoying the beach for a little while, she saw a bar not too far from where she was. Chaeyoung really needed a drink after everything that happened and how fucked her life might end up being. “Hey, can I get some Whiskey please,” Chaeyoung asks the bartender as she sits down. She downs the first shot as soon as she gets it and asks for another one. At the same speed, she downs 2 more before she is interrupted. 

Change of perspective

“Oh lady slow down, you are going to get drunk if you keep drinking at that rate!” you say as you take a seat beside the said pretty lady. 

“And how does that concern you?” She is probably tipsy from her drinks. 

“Chill lady, I was just looking out for a pretty lady such as yourself,” you reply and order yourself something to drink. 

There was a moment of silence, where the both of you were just staring at the beautiful scenery outside, the sound of the waves crashing was therapeutic. 

The silence is broken when you say, “So what is a pretty woman such as yourself doing here at such a late hour all by herself.”   

“Trying to drown my sorrows after ruining my life,” She says.

You are shocked because that's a huge statement to make especially for someone who looks so young. “Aww, don’t say that, talk to me. Maybe I can help you,” 

She then explains everything and you are also concerned with what you just heard, keeping her company and you drank more till the point where the both of you were tipsy and enjoying each other's company. 

All of a sudden, she leans in and kisses you, the kiss is filled with lust, and you reciprocate it. She was gorgeous and you were going to enjoy every single second of this. 

After kissing each other for what felt like an hour, both of you pulled apart. Your foreheads still touching each other, catching up your breath. 

“I need you to fuck me, I just need to feel loved,” Chaeyoung says, her breathing still frantic. Pulling you in closer to her body, her boobs pressing against your chest. 

“My room is close, we can go there,” you suggest. 

Chaeyoung agrees and the both of you head toward your room. As soon as you are inside, she pulls you into a deep kiss and climbs onto you, her legs hooked together around your back. 

Not pulling out of the kiss you manage to navigate the both of you to the bed. Slowly kneeling to put Chaeyoung down. 

“Are you sure you want this? Because once we do this there is no going back,” You warned Chaeyoung. 

“Yes, I am sure. I need this so fucking badly,” Chaeyoung whines. 

You kneel at the edge of the bed and pull Chaeyoung toward you spreading her legs. Pushing her panties to the side you are met with her glistening wet pussy. Not wasting another second you begin eating her out and playing with her clit. 

The moans in the room grew louder and her hands were now gripping your hair pulling you closer to her core. You could tell that she was getting close to her orgasm. 

“Fuck I am going to cum, keep going! You are so fucking good at eating me out!” She screams as you continue to eat her out and rub her clit with your hand. She cums all over your face, and you lick up every single drop of her delicious cum. 

“Now it’s my turn,” you say as you discard your clothes and pull down your underwear. 

She looks shocked, “Oh my God, that's fucking huge,” she says before taking your dick into her mouth. She slowly sucks on it not being able to take it in completely. You help her out by pushing her head into your body. 

“Enough, I wanna feel that tight pussy on my cock,” you say after a few minutes of receiving a blow job. 

With her lying on the bed, legs spread apart, you tease her a little by slapping your cock on her pussy causing her to moan a little. Just as you were about to put it in you were stopped by her, “Wait, please, slowly. I don’t know if something so big can fit inside” She says. 

“Don’t worry princess, I will be slow,” you say and enter her pussy, it was extremely tight almost like she was a virgin. 

“Nghh Fuck!” she screamed out as you slowly pushed into her. Once you bottomed out, you stayed there giving her time to adjust to your length. 

“Y-you can move now but slowly okay?” With her permission you began moving slowly, you also played with her clit a little to help her relax. 

“Fuck your cock is so big, it's stretching me out so well,” she moaned as you continued to pump her tight pussy. 

“Harder, please, go harder please!” she screamed as gripped the bedsheet. You obliged, your thrusts became harsher and deeper. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, how can such a big cock even exist, Aghh it's stretching out my tight pussy like nothing ever,” she screamed out and that gave you a naughty idea. 

“Oh really? Does your husband’s dick not satisfy you?” you questioned. 

“NO! His tiny pathetic dick could never reach the places that your cock is touching. Oh my fucking God,” she moaned out, her pussy was tightening, signaling her impending orgasm. 

“Are you going to cum for me slut? Are you going to cum on an absolute stranger's cock on your honeymoon while your cuck husband sleeps peacefully in his room!” You groaned as you continued to pound her pussy. 

It was getting hard for you as well, with the way that her pussy was gripping onto your cock you wouldn’t last much longer either. 

“Oh fuck I am going to cum, keep going, keep pounding my pussy, ahh fuck,” she continued to moan, her fist turning white from how hard she was grabbing the bedsheet, She soon came all over your cock but you didn’t stop as you were also chasing your own orgasm. 

“Nghh, I am also going to cum, where do you want it,” You managed to say as you continued to pound her.

“O-outside!,” She screamed from the overstimulation and you soon pulled out and cum all over her perfect abs. 

You grab a tissue and clean up your cum from her abs and fall onto the bed next to her. “I know this isn’t exactly the correct order but what’s your name?” you ask her 

“I am Chaeyoung, and you?” 

[cosyvelvetorchid]

We get so much JealousBuck, but I'd like a little JealousTommy. I feel like Tommy would be more threatened by women flirting with Buck, maybe make him question if Buck might not go back to exclusively dating women because it's "easier" and more socially acceptable.

I'm not gonna lie to you - I made myself cry with this one. Thank you for the prompt, I really enjoyed writing this. 🩶

*****

"We can't keep having this same conversation, Tommy." Buck said, exasperated. "Men and women flirt with you all the damn time and I don't freak out about it."

"That's different." Tommy argued.

"Why, because you've always known who you were and I didn't?" Buck argued back.

"No. Yes. I.." Tommy didn't know how to answer that. It was, admittedly, partly because of Bucks' lack of experience with men. He was so quick to date a man he could, conceivably, be quick to go back to dating a woman. It would be the easier choice. Certainly, the most familiar to him. But it wasn't just that - Tommy was falling for Evan, and it scared the shit out of him. There was only a tiny sliver of his heart left to open up, and when it did, there would be no going back. "You've said it yourself how impulsive you can be - how do you know that you won't meet another woman and jump into that like you did with me?"

Buck looked at him dumbfounded. How could Tommy even say that to him? Bucks argumentative voice softened.

"How could you even think that?" He asked, his big blue emotion filled eyes looking back at Tommy. A vine of guilt was slithering its tendril around Tommys stomach and squeezing tightly. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I am with you and want to be with you, before you believe me."

"I do believe you." Tommy insisted. "I believe that you believe it. But you don't know how you'll feel in a month. Six months, a year from now."

"Yes I do." Buck said firmly.

"How? How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I trust me. I trust myself. I guess you need to decide if you trust me too." Buck told him. He slowly walked out of Tommy's kitchen and out the front door. Tommy slumped into a seat at the island and put his head in his hands.

***

Tommy parked the car at the station and tentatively walked inside. Chim was the first person to see him.

"Hey, Tommy. What are you doing here?"

"Is Evan here?" He asked looking around.

"Uh, no. I thought you were supposed to be going out tonight."

"Is Eddie here?"

"Upstairs. Is everything al-" Tommy didn't wait for Chim to finish his sentence and immediately made his way upstairs.

"Tommy. You here with Buck? I thought you had a date night?" Eddie asked as Tommy walked into the kitchen. Clearly, Buck hadn't told him about their fight. Good.

"Can we talk?" He gestured with his head to the sofas at the other end of the living area.

"Uh, sure. Everything okay?" He asked as they sat down.

"Evan and I had a fight." He told him.

"Okay. Uh, I feel like I need to remind you that I'm his best friend. I mean, you can talk to me, obviously, but I'm not sure how he would feel about that."

"I know you're his best friend, Eddie, which is why I've come to you. I figured if I'm the asshole here, you'd be the person who told me."

"Fair point. So what happened?" Eddie asked. Tommy explained everything about the women flirting with Buck at the bar they were at and the fight they had afterwards. Eddie was quiet for a moment as he absorbed all the information.

"Well, I think it's quite simple." He explained. "The question you need to ask yourself isn't 'will Buck go back to dating women?', it's 'do you trust him when he tells you you're the one he wants to be with?'. Because if the answer is no, from my perspective.. Buck isn't the problem. The call seems to be coming from inside the house, Bud."

Tommy thought about Eddie's words for a moment before sighing and letting his body fall back into the couch. He was right. Tommy needed to decide if he trusted Evan enough to know what he wanted.

***

He sat in his car outside Evans, building for almost an hour before finally going inside. As he approached Evans door, he still had no clue what he was going to say. He just hoped that seeing him in front of him would help him figure that out. He took out the key that Evan had given him a few weeks ago as they hit six months together and unlocked the door. Evan was leaning against the island facing the door. Tommy wondered if he'd been waiting there for the last few hours for him to walk in.

"Hey." He said quietly and closed the door behind him. "Evan i-"

"Stop." He held up his hand and took a few steps forward, stopping a few feet in front of Tommy. "I need to say something be-before I lose the courage." He took a deep breath. Tommy nodded, giving him the go-ahead.

"I know that us dating was a big leap of faith. For both of us. You've been hurt by guys who couldn't, or wouldn't, come out of the closet, and obviously, I've never dated a guy before. It was a risk. For both of us. And i know I walked into this not really knowing what I was ready for. But-but i took that risk because i wanted to. And-and there has not been a moment, not a single second, that I have regretted that decision. I will take that risk every day to be with you because.. because I love you, Tommy. And I know it sounds stupid, but, I think.. I feel like.. like a part of me loved you before I even knew you existed."

It was the single, most beautiful thing Tommy had ever heard. A giant, thick surge of emotion shot from his heart and lodged itself in his throat, catching his breath on the way. Water filled up his eyes, and he swallowed, trying to still himself.

"You are not the first guy on a list of guys I'm going to date, Tommy. You.. you're it for me. And yeah, I know, everyone will probably say that I'm just being the same old Buck, all reckless and impulsive, and it'll probably blow up in my face, but I don't care. I would risk that happening every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to spend one more moment with you."

Never, in his 40 years on earth, had anybody ever made Tommy feel the way he was feeling right now. Every fear he had about this relationship, every insecurity melted away. Evans face - his gorgeous and open and earnest face - looking at him was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He had walked into Evans's apartment, not knowing how he felt or what he wanted to say. But now he did. Now, his feelings were crystal clear. And nothing in the world was going to stop the next words from coming out of his mouth.

"Marry me."

Bucks eyes open wide in unison with his mouth.

"T-tommy.. I wasn't..  that's.. " Buck was stumbling over his words more than he ever usually did. Tommy stepped forward, taking his hands in his.

"Evan, I know this seems like I'm being.. Well, being all 'Buck'.. but.." He took a breath "..and I'm not saying we should get married anytime soon - I'd wait 10 years if it's what you wanted. It's not about when we do it, it's about just how much I fucking love you, and how it would make me so God damn happy to know that you want to be my husband." Evans eyes were beginning to fill up now. His hands were shaking in Tommy's, who held them tighter.

"I was an idiot, and I am so, so sorry, Evan. What I was thinking and feeling before was entirely because of my own fear. My own stupid insecurities. I never in a million years thought I would ever find someone like you. Someone who is so beautiful inside and out, someone who makes me feel like I'm worth something. That I'm something precious that you have and -" The tears he was trying so hard to hold on finally fell down his cheeks. "-and I want to spend every second of the rest of my life making you feel as precious as you make me feel."

"I... you're right -" Evan said after composing himself. "You are being all 'me'. Proposing after barely being together for 6 months is definitely impulsive and reckless." He said, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Would it also be impulsive and reckless if I said yes?"

Tommy felt like someone had lit fireworks in the centre of his chest. Those illegal ones that are far too big and dangerous. The ones you know could blow up, taking your limbs with them, but you buy them anyway because they're so beautiful they're worth the risk.

"Really?" He held Evans face in his hands. Tears were still caressing Tommys cheeks, but he didn't care to wipe them away. He'd happily look at Evan through wet lashes forever.

"Yes." Evan replied. Tommy pulled him forward, hard, crashing their lips together. They both whimpered at the force. Tommy wrapped his arms around Evans neck and held him as tight as he could, as though if he let go, Evan would somehow disappear like smoke into thin air. Evan pushed his face into Tommy's neck and sighed with such contentment he thought he'd float away. They stayed like that, in the middle of his kitchen, for a while.

"Evan Kinard. I like the sound of that." He spoke into Tommy's neck.

"Me too."

[themasterofo]

To My Readers

Please bear with me while I take a somewhat more serious tone today. I've been wanting to write something like this for a while now, and finally got to putting my thoughts down.

I have always kept an eye on you readers who like and reblog my stories, and it has not gone unnoticed that, in addition to girls who more-or-less match the submissive female character I write, many of my readers are lesbian, or trans, or even sub men. Some of you I've chatted with in the past, even to the point of giving permission to rewrite my stories, altering some preferred biology and/or gender details.

I dislike virtue signaling for its own sake. I find a lot of it distasteful and self-serving, but I also know that statements of support can mean a lot to people who may not be sure that they are welcome. So it's in that spirit that I did decide to write this.

Assuming you are an adult, and that you are not a predator, you are welcome here.

Whether Dom(me) or sub, whether male, female, or anything else, and whatever genitals or body you were born with or have managed to make for yourself, you are welcome here.

I write about denial from my particular perspective, which includes my own sexuality, orientation, and gender. In my mind, the man in my stories is me, and the girl is an afab girl. Because of this, you'll hear talk about his cock, her cunt, and things like this. But, if that doesn't match you, and you still want to read, and if you identify with any part of my writing, you have my absolute blessing to take whatever liberties you wish in your own mind. Not that you needed my permission, but maybe for some it might help.

To be clear, for my own part, I'm not really interested in interacting sexually with sub men, or with girls who don't match the physical type of person that I'm attracted to (girls with a cunt). I don't mean any offense here and I hope that none is taken. For me, life is too short to do anything other than follow what makes you feel authentically happy, and that's part of what does. But it costs me nothing to accept the gender or sexuality that someone identifies with themselves, and I consider it a matter of kindness and decency to do so.

But I am also happy to chat with anyone in about denial and so forth, as long as there is respect and if I have the time (the latter being a larger issue these days!)

So in summary, welcome. If you're a sub, I hope you find inspiration here, and I hope you can learn to edge more and cum less, if you agree with me that this is what's probably best for you. If you're a Dom(me), I hope you enjoy the stories and maybe get some inspiration and ideas to take responsibly to the sub(s) in your life. I tell sub girls they don't have my permission to cum when reading my blog, but if that doesn't resonate with you - you do you. And if you want to imagine that my Dom character is a woman, or that the sub character has a cock, or whatever else will make bring you some happiness, just do it.

[nicosraf]

what do you believe is the biggest difference between the love angels feel towards one another and human love? do angels love in a way that can never be accomplished in mortality? do humans have the gift of love in spite of end?

You have to be careful asking me questions like this because I can ramble for hours, I fear

One of the more interesting part of writing ABM, from a meta perspective as the author, is the unconditional love angels have. This is especially because I was writing ABM after spending a while writing very real-life fiction (my most recent pieces were mexican drug war short stories and the book I abandoned for ABM was a mexican speculative fiction). You read ABM and the angels don't really feel like people. They don't act like the people at your family dinner table or in a classroom because angels don't have any societal bigotries or politics or economic inequality or have much sense of authority beyond God and archangels. Things like lying and unconsensual violence (outside sport) aren't even known until after the war. The immortality of angels affects their love in the way that they don't get bored easily and are pretty happy with routine — but I think the most important aspect here is actually societal.

Angels express so much unconditional love because... what's there to be conditional about? They live(d) in a moneyless, sexless, deathless society with no culture differences, no bigotries. No "sin". It's the same reason children are unconditional about love: they don't have really anything to want besides love.

If you think about human love, its compounded by all of these societal things — money, sex, death, gender, procreation, culture, bigotry, etc, etc. These things that angels don't have. In A&M, the biggest issue that the Watchers run into with human love is not the immortality vs mortality aspect, but how complicated human society is to them. One of my favorite scenes in the book is where a Watcher tells a woman that she doesn't need to worry about what do after sexual violence because a man... shouldn't do that in the first place. The Watcher just doesn't get it. They all encounter the systemic oppression of women and are totally baffled; (even if angels in Heaven are developing a more complicated society and have started their own societal oppression, that oppression is still directed at angels that have committed an actual act of "sin" with their own hands). The way war eventually happens in A&M, through tribalist conflict, is almost completely incomprehensible to angels.

This doesn't mean humans can't love, obviously. They do, but it's complicated by the human condition, which is about way more than just dying. They have to love despite money/death/sex/gender/sickness for it to be unconditional. And that exists! It's a different kind of beauty to love in despite. But, for an angel, whose probably lived longer not knowing sin, and a typical human, who was born ready to sin — that's where the incompatibility is. A (not-fallen) angel loves unconditionally because there's no other option, but a human has to make the conscious choice and keep choosing it.

I think A&M is a lot about how human love is compounded and difficult and falls apart easy, but Angels 3 is a little more about human love despite all the absolute worst of societal issues.

Basically, angels fell out of a coconut tree, but humans exist within a context.

[absolutebl]

Given the wide range of BL you've consumed and analyzed. I am curious at your perspective when comparing BLs made/written by men and those that were written by women, in a different direction, comparing BLs directed by men in comparison to women.

If you could have the time and give your perspective in this two sources of BL , that would be great.

Hum, I'm not sure how to answer this. Except in a kind of avoidance way because I question the premise.

I think, in general, in most of the film industry, the original writing has very little to do with the final result, because so many new voices and povs are imposed on it the moment it begins to be adapted. After a BL leaves its author (predominantly female) it goes to script, a writers room, and eventually into the hands of director and team. All those people are different genders (predominantly male). And all of them have a significant impact on the end result.

Sometimes the author has unprecedented influence (mame for example) but that's pretty unusual.

Statistically speaking, the origin IP (whether novel or graphic) is most likely written by a female and the resulting BL most likely directed by a male.

There are always exceptions, of course.

Even putting aside all the other people, mostly script writers, in between the two primaries (which I just don't think you can) it would be statistically challenging to draw any commonalities amongst female directors (since there are so few) or amongst male writers (for the same reason). In other words, we have many many examples of really only 1 of the 4 possible combinations, and all those examples are muddied by the nature of the filming process (not to mention the nature of gender).

In other words, it would be challenging for me to say things are generally preferable in any one version of the pairings.

I have liked BLs written and directed by women, written by a woman directed by a man, written by a man directed by a woman, or written and directed by men (although those last two I would struggle to name any BLs).

However, I have also liked and then disliked BLs from the same general team and combination of genders behind the creatives.

For me, at least, there doesn't seem to be a reliable team or a reliable writer or a reliable director whose BL product I will reliably love.

I would hesitate to place a predictor on my BL taste (or anyone else's) based on the gender of any part of the team behind a BL. That seems..... weird. Especially when queers and 3rd gender etc are involved (and we have always been involved in artistic spaces for as long as humans have existed, I suspect).

But then I feel that way about most entertainment, from music to books to plays to comedy to fashion. I can be a fan of a director's style but not like some of their shows, just as I can be a fan of an actor's performance but not the character they're playing, or a fan of a pair's chemistry but not in those roles, and so forth.

I think what youth and influencers and the internet age has forgotten is that it's okay to admire a creative individual and not slavishly adore everything that they produce. (For fuck's sake though, don't tell them that, you absolute troll.)

Creatives and creative teams also have their own taste, and that may conflict with yours. Especially with newer IP where you might want the same old same old and they need to evolved. Consumers of entertainment are remarkably resistant to creativity, innovation, and change (so oxymoronic) .

It's okay, maybe you'll like their next BL, song, book, painting, performance......

I have no idea how I got here but:

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

I do have some stuff on a queer lens here:

[doukeshi-kun]

did kolya ever dispose the bodies of alex and julia? (i cant remember if that was their names hehe its been a while...)

because i've been wondering if he got caught and arrested or he just ran off too, OR he just murdered the rest of the officer's? AND HOW DARE HE KISS ANOTHER WOMAN ? was it basically just a plan to get closer to the reader at the end. i got so many questions (im still not healed 😐)

ah i just really love any discussion about stalker!nikolai bcs i really love to hear thoughts and opinions and theories from you guys 😆

well, to answer, julia was 'disposed', sort of. she was, after all, mutilated and stuffed into garbage bags and the rests of her body were thrown at the back gate of the haunted fair—near the forest. alex, well... after y/n and nikolai ran away from the police, alex's corpse was being left on the road but a few police did find him and surround his body as our main couple ran away and had their conflict somewhere.

whether kolya got caught or got bailed or ran off, that's totally up to interpretation. is this an excuse that i don't have storyline for that? no! bcs i do have the real answer on how nikolai is still 'free' even after all that incident and why he kissed the woman.

and below this :readmore:, i'm telling briefly on what actually happened (from the writer's perspective lmao). but again, i did intentionally leave the details bcs i like to have my readers interpret the scenes however they want

so, firstly, whether nikolai does possess The Overcoat in this au does not matter. in my mind, he was caught up by the polices and there are already several implications that he has connection with fyodor still (based from ivan's scene). he complied with the authority while also depending on fyodor (or anyone you want, really... or perhaps himself) to help him with the proofs and accusations. so, yes, he was caught up and complied to the authorities. i believe nikolai is not a man who kill unnecessarily (alex is necessary lmao and julia... well, he killed her bcs she made y/n's life horrible. so she got that chop chop). as i believed he is such a man, i can't really see him murdering all the polices... especially after his funfair was raided, alex's corpse was left on the road near the fair, etc. the most logical way to do this is to play smart. and besides, in BSD universe itself, the polices are kinda weak and like.... how many fucking murderers roaming the BSD world😭 pretty sure nikolai can tweak the law and system easily, especially considering he was a secretary for the ministry of justice years ago.

but! like i said, you can freely think however you want him to escape or be free. he killed the polices? sure! he escaped thru his portal? yeay! he just get caught and spent 3 months in jail? okay! — after all, you are the reader.

secondly, yes, he kissed maya (i was hurted too writing that goddamn) and fortunately he rejected her offer to have sex because he is THAT loyal. and well, while he made out with maya purely to manipulate the poor lady emotionally to get to the reader, but hey :) at least he kissed you back thousands times more desperate and hungrier and passionate.

[empirearchives]

I want to learn more about Napoleon and Josephine’s relationship. Can you tell me about it?

Of course! I love talking about Napoleon and Josephine’s relationship 💕💕💕

Let’s see. Well, Josephine was Napoleon’s first wife, and Napoleon was Josephine’s second and final husband.

They were married in 1796 when Napoleon was 26 and Josephine was 32. Their marriage lasted until December 1809, when Napoleon was 40 and Josephine was 46. They separated for political reasons, and Napoleon said “She has graced fifteen years of my life, and the memory of this will remain for ever stamped on my heart.” (Sergeant, The Empress Josephine; Napoleon's Enchantress Volume 2, p. 517)

Long periods of their marriage were spent apart due to the war. Josephine wrote to Napoleon when he was far away in Warsaw in 1807: “I took a husband in order to be with him!” (Castelot, Napoleon, p. 320)

Other times were spent traveling and living together. They had no natural children together, but Napoleon adopted Josephine’s children from her first marriage.

It was not an arranged marriage set up by their parents. In fact, Napoleon did not even ask for his mother’s permission (or tell her until after), which was considered to be disrespectful as it broke traditional Corsican custom. Napoleon’s parents had an arranged marriage when they were teenagers. Josephine’s first marriage was arranged when she was a teenager. Napoleon set up many of his relatives marriages. But Josephine and Napoleon’s marriage was a love match, so in that way, it was unique.

Josephine was Napoleon’s “star” or memento of good luck. When they got together, he got her a medallion that said “To Destiny” which is really quite prescient considering that they had no idea then what an amazing and extraordinary destiny they would have together. Together they lived through wars, created and broke empires. They ushered in the modern era and played a key role in all its hopes and sorrows. The years in which they were at the forefront were ones of incredible social, cultural, economic and political transformation.

Many details of their relationship are murky. Unfortunately, not a lot of writing from Josephine has survived, though there is some. However, we are very lucky that Josephine saved so many of Napoleon’s letters to her and kept them safe, so they have survived when so many other letters have not.

One of the appealing aspects of their relationship and the reason why a lot of people find it fascinating is because it is considered to be a more “equal” relationship, relatively speaking when considering the standards of the age. In many ways (though not all), it was actually a reversal of norms. It was not a child marriage. It was not an arranged marriage. It was a rare case of a man marrying an older woman instead of a younger woman. At the beginning of their relationship, it was Josephine who had greater influence (though Napoleon would quickly become the more dominant one). In actuality, Josephine had a lot of issues, but she did come from the old French aristocracy and she was also part of the social circle of wealthy and politically powerful French elites. Napoleon did not come from either group. From his perspective, Josephine was a glamorous and alluring figure. She was part of an exclusive world that was out of reach for people like him and so many others. So what you see, Napoleon married up the social ladder.

What is interesting is that Josephine technically married down the social ladder and she managed to pick the one who would make her an empress. It is quite an ironic twist of fate. Who could have seen it coming?

But you know, she found him alluring too, and saw something fascinating in him. This is what Josephine said after meeting Napoleon for the first time: “His piercing look has something about it quite mysterious which impresses even the directors.” (Zamoyski, Napoleon: A Life, p. 106)

She described him as having “the strength of a passion of which he speaks with a force which does not permit any doubt as to its sincerity.” (Zamoyski, Napoleon: A Life, p. 106)

Her first impression of him was of someone who she found to be both unsettling and extraordinary.

There was infidelity in their marriage. First by Josephine, then mostly by Napoleon. They kind of mirrored each other. At first Napoleon was passionately devoted to Josephine, whereas she was unfaithful. Then Napoleon felt quite alienated and betrayed by that, so he became more guarded. Whereas Josephine fell increasingly more in love with Napoleon and was loyal to him, while he was the one being unfaithful and having affairs.

After their marriage ended, Napoleon continued to support and provide for Josephine for the rest of her life. He was no longer her husband, but he was her “protector”. They saw each other in person less and less. That’s not to say that they forgot about each other or ever stopped caring about each other.

This is from a letter to Josephine that Napoleon wrote when he abdicated and was headed to his first exile in 1814:

“Farewell my dear Joséphine, resign yourself just as I do and never lose the memory of the one who has never forgotten you and never will forget you.” (Lentz, Napoléon: “My Ambition Was Great”, p. 131)

I genuinely believe that Josephine died of a broken heart, even though it sounds cheesy. It’s impossible for me to believe that it was just a coincidence when considering the timing. She “caught a chill” a few weeks after Napoleon fell, and she never recovered. When Josephine learned about Napoleon’s exile to Elba, she said “If it were not for his wife I would go lock myself up with him!” (Erickson, Josephine: A Life of the Empress, p. 337)

She wrote to her son on 9 April 1814: “What a week I have spent, my dear Eugene! How I have suffered at the way they have treated the emperor! What attacks in the newspapers, what ingratitude on the part of those upon whom he showered his favors! But there is nothing more to hope for. All is finished.” (Erickson, Josephine: A Life of the Empress, p. 335)

She died on 29 May 1814, the month after Napoleon abdicated. Napoleon never saw her again. When he was younger, he wrote to her: “Have a good rest. Haste to get well. Come and join me, so that, at least, before dying, we could say—‘We were happy for so many days!!’” (Hall, Napoleon's letters to Josephine)

And I think they truly spent many happy days together. In 1814, Napoleon was speaking to Caulaincourt about Eugène (Josephine’s son), and he said “His mother made me very happy. Those are the sweetest recollections of my life.” (Knapton, Empress Josephine, p. 317)

Different people have different opinions, but I think they were soulmates or perhaps even toxic soulmates. They had a turbulent relationship, and of course they had flaws. Both of them were unfaithful, dishonest, toxic and possessive. But their strengths and weaknesses complemented each other a lot and they seemed to genuinely love being together. In the end, it was a rare and unique love.

[soulc-hilde]

The Bear

If there’s anything more frustrating is doing a series for a show that has writers who don’t properly go about their job. For example, for my series Bear in the Wild which is based on and follows The Bear tv show, Storer and whoever else is co-writing the show - probably - don’t know how they want to go about the show or what to do.

Cause what I remember reading, is that the show wasn’t even supposed to go on for this long which is a congratulations well deserved. However, I don’t think Storer was ideally prepared to take the show higher. Hear me out…

The viewers are split between those who want Carmen to find the light within his life and heal, those who wish to see him be in a relationship with Sydney, and some who may want him with Claire or any BETTER character that can be added in.

From my perspective, I can see how Sydney and Carmen can be a couple. For those who are too hooked onto the fact that they work together - Carmen’s ENTIRE family is heavily involved with the restaurant since he was a kid. That separation is non-existent.

However, the point of this post isn’t about ships. It’s about the writing and the caring of the show. The first two seasons were killer, amazing. The pacing was perfect, the plot of each season was explored within their episodes consistently, and there’s obvious chemistry between Sydney and Carmen.

Romantic or Platonic, who gives a fuck. It's there, that's material that they can work on.

Season 3 fails because it’s inconsistent, it removes our deuteragonist Sydney and replaces her with tertiary characters like the Faks. THE FAKS??

If this season’s theme, its plot, was to dive into each character’s background and how they’re tied within one another, GO FOR IT. Even better, do that but stick to your focal cast which consists of Carmen, Sydney, Richie, Natalie, Tina, Marcus, Ebra, and… maybe the Faks.

Tell us about our seven fishes, how’d they come across Michael? What was his role in their life, outside of being the boss? It’s The Beef/The Bear. Everybody is family. Tell us how The Beef became a home. Talk to us about Sydney’s family, hell Marcus’ mother died at the end of Season 2… let’s dive into that.

Instead, I’m staring at John Cena as a Fak and I’m learning about Thing 1 and Thing 2? I’m receiving vague hints that Claire’s best friend can’t read red flags to save her fucking life and got associated with a Fak? Why would anyone to do that to themselves?

How does this contribute to The Bear? Or to the Season in general?

Claire is the type of girl in reality where you have to tell them to shut the fuck up or else you’ll punch the shit out of them. She pushes and she pushes until you give her the answer she wants.

In the eyes of a WOC, she acts like a typical white woman that was never told no because she was too pretty or talked so soft when in reality, she looked like everyone else and talks as if she’s being stalked and needs saved. Claire ain’t no different than any other plain jane.

So, what makes her so special in Storer’s eyes that she gets to be Carmen’s love interest?

Can’t say that it’s the nostalgia that holds them together cause I’m pretty sure that while they were both acquainted, she wasn’t an actual friend of Carmen’s. She was the out of reach girl who he had a crush on and knew of. Instead of initiating that bond during those times, she initiates it through his family.

Specifically, Michael, Richie, The Faks, and Donna.

Instead of understanding that the fake number meant he didn’t want to talk to her, she goes through Fak and proceeds to keep calling him. He doesn’t owe her shit, not even the toilet paper he used to wipe his ass and yet, we’re watching this grown ass woman hunt this man down when he didn’t want to talk.

If this was the other way around, it would immediately be an example of harassment against women. But Claire? Oh no, this is apparently supposed to be her fighting for her chance at love or getting close to his heart.

Girl, you're a damn pest. Get sprayed.

And let's not even get into one of the promotion interviews. Why is the cast split by the comedic reliefs, the siblings, and the Blacks?? Um... Tell us how you really feel, say that shit with your chest whoever set that up.

Storer was not prepared to create another season and that happens to all shows. I mean, how many shows you've start strong but then there was either a change on staff or it received crazy hype and decided to add seasons to follow the momentum but things went to shit?

There's ways to recover from that. However, here's where Storer really fucked up.

In recent years, the generation of BIPOC have been wishing to see themselves as characters who do the things that the most overhyped white character does.

Cook? Farm? Paint? Rich? Anxious? Depressed? Happy family?

After so many years of "progression" within the industry, we receive these characters that are supposedly in these non-stereotypical roles and won't be used for the plot (especially if they're a woman of color) but then when the final product is out...

Where was that regular-degular character you had?

And thankfully, there's some shows who have been successful with giving us that representation. And it's not about us wanting white directors and writers to tell our story as people. Y'all already had that control and look where we're at now.

We want y'all to get your head out of your asses and realize that there's more to the world than Ashley with the blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes.

In The Bear, we get that with Sydney, Ebra, Tina, and Marcus. Now, with Sydney, as I said, she's the deuteragonist. Both her and Richie. Where the fuck was she this season? Why is her role being pushed to the back and the likes of the Faks and the Pest being pushed to the front?

They're for damn sure not on the promotional posters. Especially, Claire. They're not one of the main characters. If anything, they're foil characters and/or tertiary characters.

They are either to help further the plot to reach our ending destination, especially if they surround the main character(s), or add little substance here and there before disappearing.

Storer fucked up. He knew what type of audience he had, he saw the reception that both Sydney and Carmen (Ayo and Jeremy) received for their roles and yet when it came to this season, he played in their faces and with their time. And that's fucked up.

[earlgreydream]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫. | 𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

happy may the 4th! for this year’s holiday, me & @little-diable decided to co-write a little bit of nasty smut about our favorite man 🖤

The hallway was quiet, only the sound of the knights boots pounding against the floor could be heard. Y/n’s heart was beating in sync with their steps, racing as if she had been running for the past hours. She had been ripped from her sleep by the masked men, forcing her out of her bed without getting the chance to put something more covering on.

Her sheer nightdress clung to her body, showing off the skin that was marked by his kisses, marks left by teeth and tongue, clearly owning the woman he had married many moons ago. Maker, every inch of hers belonged to him, to the man ruling the galaxy, the man with raven black hair and eyes so daunting even his knights shrunk away from.

Y/n had asked questions the knights hadn’t replied to, keeping her in the dark. Her mind was trying to pierce the puzzle pieces together, wondering why they had asked her to follow them to the throne room, hoping that Kylo was awaiting her, to tell her what was going on. She wasn’t disappointed, eyes meeting his as they entered the room, halting in their step as Kylo raised his gloved hand.

The man was sitting on the iron throne, one boot placed on his other knee, sinking further into the throne as if he was lounging around. And yet his gaze had nothing calm to it, fueled by something that left her panting. Kylo stared at her for a few moments, eyes wandering up and down her barely dressed frame, taking in the expensive silk fabric, before he met her gaze once again.

“Strip, pet.” It was a simple command, and yet y/n didn’t dare move, wondering if he was only toying with her. But Kylo’s gaze wasn’t urged on by any teasing, didn’t give away what he was truly trying to do. So, her hands began to move, slow at first, pulling one strap down, before the other followed. Heat flushed through her as the fabric fell to the ground, fighting against the need to cover herself up, not used to the piercing gaze of Kylo’s knights.

Y/N could feel seven sets of eyes on her, Kylo’s piercing green gaze making her feel like she was going to crumble at his feet.

He watched her struggle to take in shallow breaths, hands clearly trembling as she fought to keep them from covering herself, though the sheen leaking down her thighs suggested a masochistic enjoyment of the semi-public humiliation.

A snap of Kylo’s fingers pulled Y/N toward his throne, invisible hands dragging her forward and up the steps to where he laid like a king before his subjects. He shifted positions, pulling her to kneel between his legs, holding her face in a gloved hand. Kylo’s thumb brushed over Y/N’s cheek, the softness of the touch contrasting with the starving gaze that seemed to eat her alive.

“So well behaved for me. Show my knights how wet you’ve gotten knowing they can see you being submissive for me,” he ordered, hauling her forward to bend over his lap, kicking her knees apart.

“Kylo!” Her soft cry was rewarded with a hard slap to her ass, leaving a red handprint in its wake. Warmth shot through her, twisting in Y/N’s lower belly as the pain made her drip, giving the knights even more of a sight to palm themselves to.

“Supreme Leader,” Kylo corrected, “I’ll put that mouth to better use than pathetic begs.”

Her head was growing fuzzy with submission, the perspective narrowing in on Kylo and his words, forgetting the audience that watched only a few meters away. Kylo’s large hands unfastened his robes, freeing himself of the tight constraints. Y/N shuddered, always wondering how in the galaxies she was going to be able to take him — despite Kylo proving time and time again that he’d make her take every inch of him, one way or another.

“Open your mouth,” he spoke, the words lost on her, caught up in a daze, mesmerized by how beautiful the young god was before her.

“Obey me, pet, unless you want each of these knights to have their way with you,” Kylo hissed, gripping her jaw.

Her jaw was pulsing against his tight grip, leaving marks he’d kiss in the early morning hours. A deep breath was exhaled before y/n slowly parted her lips, opening her mouth wide enough for his cock to rest on her tongue. She needed a moment to adjust, corners of her mouth already burning from the uncomfortable stretch. Kylo’s groans left her walls clenching, unable to stop her arousal from dripping down her thighs, making a mess on her skin.

“Maker, look at you, such a whore for my cock, you’d die for a taste, wouldn’t you?” She hummed around his cock, eyes fluttering close to concentrate on the bobbing movement of her head. Y/n could feel the eyes of the knights on her body, burning into her skin without moving, not daring to go against Kylo’s commands. The situation had something awfully thrilling to it, urging her on to push him closer to the edge, wanting to taste him.

Kylo’s gloved hand guided her head, not daring to break contact just yet. But even though the man kept towering over her, not moving away, she felt an unfamiliar touch on the inside of her thighs, eyes snapping open to find his dark ones.

“Don’t you stop, pet.” With a gasp rolling off her tongue, y/n tired to keep herself focused - without any luck. The force had reached her cunt, teasing her arousal-covered folds, forcing her to tremble.

Kylo gave a sharp pull to her hair as her actions faltered, distracted by the invisible fingers dancing over her clit, teasing her entrance by just barely pushing inside.

Y/N’s whimper was muffled by his cock in her mouth, the sheer size forcing tears from her eyes as her throat constricted around him. She could feel him throbbing, so close to coming undone from watching her fight off an orgasm and burn alive from the embarrassment of his men bearing witness.

“Hold it, pet,” Kylo growled, demanding she didn’t come, despite his force turning her into a desperate, trembling wreck.

She hollowed her cheeks, big eyes gazing up at him with tears welling at her lashes, forcing herself down until her nose brushed his toned abdomen, painfully. taking every inch of him.

Kylo’s head fell back, dark waves tumbling around his regal face, mouth opening as he came hard down her throat. His taste was overpowering, filling her mouth as a hand in her hair forced her to stay down, choking on every last drop he had to give. The intensity sent a shudder through Y/N, fighting off her own orgasm, trying to be obedient to the man who dominated her.

Y/N had never felt so thankful for oxygen, catching her breath, placing a hand on Kylo’s knee to stabilize herself as soon as he let her sit back on her heels. The force had momentarily vanished from her sex, the only sensation being what dripped down her thighs in a filthy display of arousal.

His thumb gathered what had spilled from her lips, silently demanding she lick it off him as he pushed down on her tongue, making his pathetic slut gag once again, reminding her that he always had control over her body.

“Supreme Leader, please,” the plea was desperate, sending a shock of electricity to Kylo’s cock that was already growing hard again.

“Come here,” he helped her stand on trembling legs, pulling her forward until she was straddling his hips.

“Kiss me,” her shaking hands found their way to his hair, the facade of being nothing more than a toy, fracturing as he caught a glimpse of the wife he loved.

Kylo paused their cat-and-mouse game, a gentle hand coming to the back of Y/N’s head, dragging her into a kiss that was just as messy as their sex, desperate and primal. He moaned softly into her mouth, feeling her grind down on his cock, dragging her velvety wet slit against him, wordlessly begging to be fucked.

“You’re going to let my knights watch you fall to pieces for me,” Kylo’s command was firm, a strong hand wrapped around her throat.

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

Kylo flipped her body as if you weighed nothing to him, pulling her back against his chest, so she was facing the six knights who were witnessing her filth, touching themselves as imagined touching her, knowing Kylo would never allow it.

Her head fell back as he fisted her hair, pulling hard as he dragged his pet down onto his cock, sheathing himself deep in her cunt, kissing her cervix as the knights nearly creamed at the sight of his outline pushing against her belly. Y/N knew to behave, but a pornographic moan tumbled from her lips, thighs shaking as Kylo guided her to bounce on his cock, his strength being the only thing that kept her upright.

She knew that it wouldn’t take long for her to give in, to scream his name as a powerful orgasm rippled through her, and yet she prayed to the stars that the moment would last, not yet ready to let go. Her walls burned around his cock, still not used to the stretch, a heavenly pain she’d dream of once he left the base for endless seeming days.

“Such a right cunt even after all those years, I could bury myself in you.” Kylo panted his words, a dark chuckle left him as he felt her tremble, wondering how much longer she’d be able to go on. For a moment his gaze found the frames of the knights, unable to drown out their graphic thoughts, wishing it was them with their cocks stuffing her holes.

Kylo’s grunts were enough to make her choke on her moans, fingernails trying to claw into the fabric of his armour. It was a pathetic try to stop herself from giving in, knowing that a punishment would follow should she not ask for his permission.

“Speak, pet, I can feel you clenching my cock.” Y/n struggled to keep on breathing let alone to speak up, eyes glassy from the pressure she used to hold herself together. A “Please” managed to claw through her, a sound Kylo seemed to pay no attention to.

“Please, Supreme Leader. Let me cum.” His hips jerked upwards, forcing his cock even deeper into her tightness as if he was scared that she’d flee from him, evaporate into a cloud of nothingness. He marveled at her for a few seconds, gaze flickering between her pleasure-drunken features and the masked ones of his knights.

“Cum for me, pet.” Her eyes rolled back into her head, teeth buried in her lower lip. Blood dripped from the thin skin, but before her tongue could even dare to wipe it away, Kylo had pulled her back against him for a rough kiss. Her orgasm clashed through her, moans swallowed by his lips and yet it seemed to be loud enough to make the knights tense.

Kylo kept snapping his hips, chasing his own high for a few more moments before he harshly pulled her down, forcing her to hold still. A deep groan left the man, cum painting her walls white like he had done numerous times before. She was panting, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of Kylo filling her, leaving his stain on the crying woman.

She collapsed back against his chest, small shudders making her tremble from the aftershocks. She ached everywhere, head full of clouds as she inhaled the scent of her lover, Kylo draping his cloak over the two of them, covering her modesty from his knights.

“Leave us,” he commanded, clearing the room.

Kylo let her rest for a few moments, his strong arms securing y/n to his chest, trailing his fingers over the bruises that had formed as evidence of the night’s activities. She kissed him softly, her movements clearly slow and tired. Kylo made her breathe bitch as he lifted her suddenly, carrying her back to the safety of their chambers, where a shower could be had and bruises could be tended to.

“Kylo,” she murmured into his shoulder as he took the time to wash every bit of her skin, despite the begs to just let the two of them go to bed.

“Yes?”

“I think I like you having me in front of your knights,” Y/N’s whisper was shy, hiding her face in the towel that was wrapped around her.

“You like me claiming my wife in front of all them? Does it turn you on to know that they can all get off to the sight of you?” Kylo’s tone held the slightest hint of teasing, pulling his wife in for another tired kiss.

“I like it when you’re big and intimidating, I love when you make me feel owned,” she admitted, giggling as she collapsed into dark silk sheets with the Supreme Leader, the dull throbbing in her body serving as a reminder that every inch of her belonged to him.

Kylo dragged her to lay on his chest, kissing the marks on her wrists from how he’d restrained her. His skin was warm and smelled clean, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing hers, his deep, quiet voice worshipping his goddess until the sunrise.

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 25. Perpetuity Characters: Nyx Blackmoon Rating: Teen Summary: Forever and ever and more Notes: None

Eons pass as interludes.

Forever is not something you reach. It is the asymptotic value that you approach. One second at a time. Summer by summer, winter by winter. One lifetime at a time.

I have seen many lifetimes. From the moment time begins until the it ends. I cannot move further forwards or backwards in an absence of space.

And in the absence of time, I will cease.

I do not know when or how that will be.

In the meanwhile, I watch, as I always have.

History flows past my gaze, and its many threads have passed me by.

I have seen many lives come and go.

The many stories I could tell.

These threads are not a cable, fraying, but a braid, forming, being woven by the life of those who live them. And each thread tells its own story, often similar, sometimes very different, but usually a kind of rhyme.

Almost always there are four unsundered, three warring against one.

Almost always there is a song that threatens the end of all life.

And almost always there are those who are called Warriors of Light.

And as I have seen many lives come and go, these ones are the ones I most frequently turn my attention to, those pivotal lives of the Warriors of Light.

Sometimes alone. Sometimes in pairs, or threes, or fours, or more. A single warrior, rallying allies. A sisterhood of four. A brotherhood of five. Kin, not by blood, but by bond.

Their family tends to be large. Almost never of blood, but of shared community.

Their lives. Fulcrums. There are so many. There is no taxonomy I can use to satisfactorily categorize them. Some are among the Spoken races I remember from when I was first instantiated. Some come from even beyond my vast experience. If these threads form a braid, there are strands from other braids that often get tangled with the ones with which I am familiar.

Maybe I will explore them one day.

For now, I focus on these threads that I know. Perhaps it is because I first came into being in one of these.

And in these threads, I see hope, I see failure. I can measure it, compare it against others. I have seen so much. Cruelty and compassion, sadness and joy.

Some of these threads end early, as their stories becomes physics, cold and empty, all life lost within them, a quiet eternity. Some end slowly towards a cold static end, not a lifelessness but a stillness, as an ultimate organized order is established, and again, become just physics, static, unchanging. Some end destructively, as existence spirals out of control, unwinding, and again, physics, an ending of chaotic conflagration, pure entropy, unwound.

But not always. Not even often.

The braid tells the story and the story often goes the same. The triumph of life. The continuation of existence. Waves, ebbing and flowing, waxing and waning. Minds to make choices to influence futures to reach out for that asymptote, ultimate to join me in this journey, companions in my long life.

I reach the end. I begin again.

I review the stories.

My own, my first Warrior of Light in other roles. Always different, but somehow the same. Usually finds her way.

A woman with flowers in her hair. Preferred the rapier. Found her way.

A would-be 'herro'. Insecure, immature. Finally growing up. Found his way.

A person who could not quite figure out what they wanted to be until they realized that was who they were. Found their way.

A man of great wealth, first in money, then in family. Found his way.

Not all of them find their way. But they all have their journeys. Some of them have many journeys, some just the one.

All important. All matter to me.

I create children, to explore these threads. They are not like me but they are a part of me. And from their perspective, I learn much, I grow closer.

And one, who like me, shall last. Unlike me, they shall reach out, and touch these stories. Not interfering. Never interfering. Instead, they shall bear Witness.

From them, I shall learn even more.

Threads like a braid, and the braid tells the story.

The story of the Warrior of Light.

All of them. Every one precious.

My future, the curve approaching the asymptote of eternity.

Forevermore.

[supersoakerfullofblood]

Plot Twists Aren't Real: Defining "Agency"

People get into writing because they want to write cool things, and one of the coolest things in the eyes of the early writer is the "twist": twist ending, twist villain, etc. But twists only appear to exist; in strong writing, there are no twists. Let me explain.

If you've read some posts on my blog (which, thank you for the reception :)), you'll know I preach above all that character makes story, specifically character change. If Edmund wants something in the narrative, he will take an action towards that thing. That might lead to consequences or blessings that will cause him to make another action. More consequences or blessings, action, etc., until your story is done! All narratives are, at their core, cause and effect.

But obviously some stories are stronger than others (not in the sense of quality, since that word is subjective and nebulous, but in the sense of structure, how it holds up, its reliability), but how? It's about information. Think about the decisions you make in real life from a game theory perspective. In any moment, you can only make choices with the information you're given. If you want to get a pizza from the local pizzeria, and you're hungry, you will do that, and that will be a good choice. Similarly, if you want to get a pizza but you didn't know the pizzeria was staffed by murderers, you will still get the pizza, and even if you die, it will still have been a good decision, because you were working with the information you had.

Your characters can also only act on their own information. If your character wants a pizza and gets it, that's solid writing (albeit too bland), because it's solid cause and effect. If your character is killed by the secret pizzeria mob, that's poor writing. (Obviously there are exceptions: if it was a throwaway character designed to show the reader the pizzeria mob exists, for example.)

This is what people mean when they talk about characters who are "agents" in the story. A strong central character, a character with agency, is a character who makes decisions based on what they know and have. This doesn't mean they always make the best decision--and most of the best literature is filled with characters who make bad or mentally/emotionally/ethically gray decisions--it just means they're doing what we do as humans. But if your character operates on the best information they have and are still punished for it (ie. the pizzeria mob), they aren't an agent in the narrative, they are the narrative's victim. People don't want to read about victims; they want to read about characters who, by their actions, become victims.

Take maybe literature's most famous "victim" Oedipus, who has sex with his mom on accident. The story of Oedipus isn't him waking up one day, finding a beautiful woman, having sex with her, and then realizing it's his mother. It's a story of Oedipus making horrible decisions--killing a man, refusing to listen to people wiser than him--in order to sleep with this beautiful woman who happens to be his mother. The mom part isn't an accident in the narrative but the narrative punishment for Oedipus's horrible choices.

This is my summary of the idea, but hear it also from John Gardner in his book On Becoming a Novelist, a must-read if you haven't yet:

"Only the writer who has come to understand how difficult it is to tell a first-rate story--with no cheap manipulations, no breaks in the dream, no preening or self-consciousness--is able to appreciate fully the concept of 'generosity' in fiction. In the best fiction, plot is not a series of surprises but an increasingly moving series of recognitions, or moments of understanding. One of the most common mistakes among young writers (those who understand that fiction is storytelling) is that the story gets its power from withheld information--that is, from the writer's setting up the reader and then bushwhacking him. Ungenerous fiction is foremost fiction in which the writer is unwilling to take the reader as an equal partner." (Gardner 47-48) "The wise writer counts on the characters and plot for the story's power, not on tricks of withheld information, including withheld information at the end... In other words, the writer lays himself wide open, dancing on a high wire without a net. The writer is generous, too, in that, for all his mastery of technique, he introduces only those techniques useful to the story: he is the story's servant, not a donzel for whom the story serves as an excuse to show off pyrotechnics. This is not to say that he's indifferent to the value of performance. Those techniques he uses because the story needs them he uses brilliantly. He works entirely in the in the service of the story, but he works will class." (Gardner 50)

What we perceive as a twist occurs when both the reader and character have the information they need to understand the story, but by the writer's ingenuity, have been shied away from the truth. The best murder mysteries don't have twists but subversions. You as the reader are given everything you need to solve the crime but have trouble doing so because of the author's many tricks (probably the most common of these being a viewpoint character who comes to the wrong conclusions about the mystery. This is why so few detective stories are told from the perspective of the detective. SPOILERS FOR KNIVES OUT: Imagine if Knives Out was told from Benoit Blanc's perspective, who by his own admission uncovered the mystery early in his stay at the house, and not from Marta's perspective, who has all the right information but comes to the wrong conclusion that she killed Harlan Thrombey.)

So, as is usually the case, all strong writing comes down to characters and their choices. And strong choices are choices characters make based on the information presented to them. Strong consequences can only come in relation to the quality of these choices. If your character wants a pizza, don't give them the pizzeria mob. If your character kills a guy and refuses wise counsel, then yes, give him the pizzeria mob.

[gosh-darn-sucking-vacuums]

Annie Get Your Gun is a character assassination spurred by post war gender politics.

I love Annie Oakley and the musical adaptation of her life pisses me off.

If you don’t know the plot:

basically, Annie is an uncultured sharpshooter who gets into a competition with Frank E. Butler (another sharpshooter and her future husband). She beats him, falls for him, and is told by the people around her to change herself for him. He is also attracted to her but emasculated by her. To get together she has to challenge him again and pull an Atalanta and lose to allow him to save face.

This is probably slightly off because I haven’t actually seen it, but from the synopses I’ve found that’s the vibe.

This is so far from the truth.

Oakley may not always have been the proper lady she was known to be, but that was an important part of her stage persona.

Her husband fell head over heels for her BECAUSE she beat him. He eventually gave up his career as a performer because he knew she was better and a bigger draw and shifted to being her manager and a salesman. This man was a simp (affectionate).

Also Sitting Bull, the person who convinces her to lose on purpose in the play, would not have done that. That man loved and respected the hell out of Annie and her skills and symbolically “adopted” her. He would not have told her to make less of them to get a man.

So character assassinations all around.

Why did I claim post war gender politics though? The play came out 1946.

What happened the year before? The end of world war 2.

What happens during that war (and most wars that pull nearly all the men for soldiers)? Women took over jobs back home.

Post world war 2 is notorious for its gender politics and shoving women back into the home. There was a huge issue/worry of emasculation.

So what do Dorothy & Herbert Fields and Irving Berlin do? Write a musical about a badass woman making herself smaller to save face for the man she loves so they can get together.

And like so many stories before and since, they imposed this story onto preexisting people/characters with personality and stories that do not align with the story they wanted to tell.

And because it is one of the main ways that people learn about them, it ruins people’s perspective on them. Which as a huge fan of Annie Oakley (and her husband tbh), fills me with furry.

She deserves so much better.

And so does Frank dammit!

[starres-stuff]

Day 4- Reticent FFXIV Write 2024

Reticent: not revealing one's thoughts or feelings readily.

“Viviane we are Noblewomen we should not cry at every funeral or sad moment in our life it gives those out to harm us the upper hand.” The words rolled off her tongue with surprising accuracy regarding how her Mother sounded when she launched into another lecture. 

It was just about Twelve Bells and she sat in the office of one Father Ashax at the Cathedral. She was quite good at being on time now and she enjoyed her weekly chats with the Priest, as they encouraged her to heal the more she expressed about her past. 

“I hear this type of upbringing occurred in Noble families rather consistently. A pity, expressing, our emotions is a rather important thing in life. We should be able to tell others if we are happy or sad. What happens when you try to communicate what you feel?” The older man with his silver-gray hair was in the process of pouring cups of Ishgardian Tea and adding this week's treat; rolanberry scones to the desert plate in the middle of the desk between them as he asked his question. Viviane often considered this his superpower as she could not fathom how it was done. 

“It feels like I am frozen in a block of ice, or someone has stolen my voice from my body and locked it away. I try to communicate how things make me feel, I can hear my inner voice put it in perspective for me. Physically I can express” Viviane paused for a moment, her cheeks flushing as she added on “I can have an entire conversation with my husbands sexually” She cleared her throat “And without saying a word during in the process. I feel broken and it all traces back to being told by my Mother to keep my feelings to myself that no one else needed to know them. 

Down, the Priest sat now, a soft sigh of relief came from taking the pressure off of his knees and relaxing back into the softness of the chair, his hands folding neatly on his desk to reveal his signet ring with Halone’s symbol on it. “You are not broken Viviane, you are reticent as are many of your peers. You were raised to be this way by a woman who had many reasons not to feel herself. She was a divorcee, her eldest child never saw adulthood and there was speculation that she was involved in her Parents’ murder. All of these things are excellent examples of events that teach us not to let others see how we feel.” 

Viviane stared across the desk, the fine line of her ruby-painted lips curling into a sneer that told the tale of how offended she was in the moment by the Priest defending her Mother's practices, but the watery blue eyes that held her gaze stopped her short, he had always been unbiased in all the conversations they had but he was also quick to point out when her hate for her Mother was clouding the truth and producing a reaction she would have otherwise suppressed in polite conversation. 

“Well, how do I learn not to be reticent?” The thought of being able to communicate how she felt vocally was both terrifying and exciting. She wanted to be able to speak up, share her thoughts, and express when someone hurt her feelings without the fear that doing so would cause those people to leave her. 

“You practice. You find people like myself that you can speak your mind to. I do this every day with my survivor groups from the Dragonsong War. They are often reticent as well, and I have seen many make full recoveries by letting their truths out.” It was then he reached out to grab a scone, one bite leaving a dusting of crumbs sprinkled on his mustache. 

“I will have you know this is a terrifying prospect, this speaking up for myself. Do you want to teach me to do that?” Viviane’s hand reached for a scone and brought it to her lips, a gentle bite causing fewer crumbs to appear on her lip than on the Priest’s. 

“Why yes Baroness, I do want to teach you to do that.” The priest offered her a small smile, pleased with where their conversation had arrived at its end.