#<- me writing these things as if i even believe in the concept of virginity lmfaooo

[m0onlustre]

Only a fool would bargain with the leader of Onychinus

ᯓPairing: Sylus x female reader (afab)

ᯓGenre: somewhat enemies to lovers, smut, porn with oc plot, angst

ᯓWord Count: 5,8k

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, first time sex (not virginity loss) alterations to the main story, dr/y humping, thigh riding, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, dirty talking, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, baby), violence, mentions of injuries. 

ᯓ Notes: Some of you may have already read my fic, The Price of Desire, in which the reader’s evol is mentioned. If you have, you’ll notice that the evol is the same in this story; however, there is no connection between the two. The concept of a reader with this ability was too appealing for me to resist, and since it was briefly mentioned in the previous fic, I decided to explore it further in this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! All likes and reblogs are appreciated. :3

Going on missions for Sylus was nothing new to you by now. You had spent years by his side since he first found you, a wild creature desperate for survival. Sometimes, you could still recall how close you had come to killing each other back then. You had been hunted by nearly every illegal underground group, all seeking your evol, and while on the run, you stumbled upon him like a scared and feral animal.

You had instinctively tried to attack him on sight; it was all you knew how to do, having fought for your freedom for as long as you could remember. You were no stranger to the danger he represented—the bloodthirsty leader of Onychinus. If other groups sought you as a mere experiment for your power, you could only imagine what Onychinus would do if they got their hands on you.

The moment you realized the person you had fallen headfirst into was the white-haired menace himself, you had attempted to fight him with everything you had. Sylus, of course, dodged every single one of your attacks effortlessly, but he was merely toying with you, for he possessed something you were unaware of; he could not be killed.

You had always been feared for your lethal evol—one touch from your bare fingers could send someone halfway to the other world. You were an extraordinary weapon, yet Sylus was not deterred; he was intrigued, even enamored by you.

With his energy manipulation, it was impossible for you to harm him, particularly when he thrived on high levels of adrenaline and excitement.

So, even as you forced yourself to keep trying to touch him, desperate to end the chaos, he reveled in your fierce determination. He loved witnessing the fire in your eyes as you believed you could take him down. When he finally grew tired of your little game and decided to put an end to it, he was blindsided by a fact he had overlooked.

While he had learned nearly everything there was to know about your evol and your abilities, he did not realize one important thing; you were immune to his mist.

No matter how fiercely the red and black tendrils curled around you, the moment your flesh made contact with them, they vanished into thin air.

Sylus had nearly salivated when he realized the challenge you presented. It had been far too long since he had encountered someone so intriguing, and he was determined that you wouldn’t walk out of that valley without becoming his.

That’s how you found yourself in his group now. Unlike everyone else, Sylus had made a promise that night: if you went home with him willingly, he would never force you to use your abilities for his research or personal gain. He needed you to choose to be there if you were going to help him.

His condition was simple: think of aiding him, and in return, you would gain his protection, a life free from fear and the constant need to run for your freedom.

You had taken a significant risk when you decided to go with him, but the white-haired man kept his word. It took you months to contemplate helping him instead of merely enjoying the luxury of his lifestyle, but he was patient. In time, you became not only his most valuable asset but also his right hand. Whenever he was out of town for deals or missions, you handled matters back home on his behalf.

Deep down, back then you knew he wasn’t just a kind-hearted man simply looking to help a struggling girl off the street. What he truly sought to protect was your evol because he believed you would eventually come around to assist him when he needed it most. So when you finally did, it was no surprise to him. He had merely given you a subtle nod and handed you the first files.

Now, two years later, you stood beside him at one of the many auctions taking place in the N109 Zone. He was after a particularly important and valuable protocore—one he had pursued for years—and today presented his chance to possess it.

Being next to him not only amplified his chances of leaving unscathed without extensive negotiation—after all, who was crazy enough to challenge the leader of Onychinus and his lethal right-hand woman?—but it also made it easier for him to operate, as you inevitably drew attention and distraction from other bidders.

His hand curled possessively around your waist as he proudly showcased you to the crowd. The dress you wore was as red as his eyes, hugging your every curve and accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled in a simple updo, revealing your back to the admiring gazes around you.

The less fabric you wore, the more difficult it was for his mist to approach you, and that was one thing you clung to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—he had come to not only depend on you but to trust you as well. Still, you maintained a small resistance, a defiance that you weren’t ready to surrender, no matter how much it irritated him.

Your gloves were snugly in place, allowing you to interact with him without draining his energy, thus enabling you to warn others of the imminent danger your touch posed. One slip of fabric, and whoever you touched would be lost forever.

“Mr. Sylus, I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” a distant voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing both of your attention. A young man addressed your boss, his tone a mix of surprise and formality.

“Not happy to see me?” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey, the smugness evident in his expression as he arched a white brow at the man.

“Of course, sir! I’m sorry, sir. I just thought you’d be out of town—”

“Change of plans." Sylus muttered, cutting him off with a tight smile before guiding you forward, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back.

As you walked toward the room where his meeting would take place, you tilted your face up to catch a glimpse of his profile. “He’s right, you know,” you began, curiosity lacing your words. “Weren’t you supposed to return next Tuesday?”

Sylus’s smirk deepened at your question. “If I had known you’d be so disappointed by my early arrival, sweetie, I would have made sure to come back yesterday.”

You scoffed at his remark, subtly flexing your back to shake his arm off, but his grip only tightened, keeping you glued to his side. “Be good now. You know how important tonight is,” He leaned in closer, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it tickled your ear. “Don’t screw this up.”

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that crawled up your spine from the subtle threat lacing his tone. Sylus had been under immense pressure lately, but you refused to let him take it out on you.

“Sylus.”

He let out an impatient huff as you halted him just outside the door of your final destination, but he turned his body to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and intensity.

“I’m not your enemy,” you asserted, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Many people work for you, but aside from Luke and Kieran, no one stands by your side with the same loyalty I do. I know you’ve been struggling, but I’m the last person you want against you right now.”

“Oh, is that right, kitten?” His brows furrowed, drawing closer until your chests nearly touched. To an outsider, you might have appeared to be lovers, but the tension between you was palpable and lethal. “And why is that? Because you’re oh-so-dangerous?”

His provoking smirk ignited your anger, and while you couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind, you chose to avoid making a scene. Stepping away from him, you tried to regain your composure. “They’re waiting for us.”

Before you could take another step toward the door, you were abruptly lifted off the ground, hanging upside down over Sylus’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered-yelled, frantically scanning for prying eyes. Your surprise deepened when, from the shadows, Luke and Kieran rushed toward you, effortlessly pulling you from Sylus’s grip. “What—”

“Take her to the car and wait for me,” Sylus commanded sharply, his tone clipped and leaving no room for negotiation. As you were carried away from him and the room, you felt a pang of frustration.

“Let me down!” you practically shouted as the twins put distance between you and the auction building.

“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.”

“Yeah, ma’am, we’re sorry, but no one bypasses the boss's orders!”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as the events unfolded, anger and frustration boiling within you at how Sylus had treated you. It was the first time since you started working for him that he had dismissed you so callously, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that coiled deep in your stomach.

You sat in the backseat of the car while the twins chatted and bantered in the front, oblivious to your turmoil. It felt surreal, as if they were living in a different world. Maybe you were overthinking it—after all, you hadn’t expected him to disregard you like that, especially during an auction so crucial to him. You were valuable to him, weren’t you? He needed you by his side, didn’t he?

Your thoughts spiraled until they were abruptly shattered by a loud bang. Before you could process the sound, part of the building in front of you exploded in a fiery eruption. Wait—was that the floor where the auction was being held? The very floor Sylus was on?

Without a second thought, you threw open the car door, sprinting toward the burning building despite the twins’ frantic shouts urging you to stop. Your mind was consumed by one thought: Sylus. He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t die. Foolish girl, not even his evol could save him from an explosion of that magnitude.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat clung to your skin as you pushed your limits, charging up the stairs to the floor where you had been just forty minutes earlier. You stumbled multiple times, falling to your knees, but the thought of Sylus pushed you onward.

When you finally reached the floor, it was a scene of devastation. The area lay in ruins, engulfed in smoke and chaos, with scattered survivors struggling to breathe amidst the wreckage. You focused your eyes and ears, straining to find Sylus amidst the agonizing cries of others. Time blurred as you searched, exhaustion creeping in and threatening to overwhelm you.

Just when you thought you might pass out, you spotted it—silver locks, now dirty and disheveled, just a few feet away. Panic surged through you as you fell to your knees and crawled with the last remnants of strength you had left. When you finally reached him, your heart stopped. You had never seen Sylus so vulnerable, so exposed.

You reached out to touch his face, your irritation intensifying at the realization that you still had to keep your gloves on, unable to feel his soft, dirt-streaked skin. With the last remnants of your strength, you shook him gently, your voice coming out hoarse as you tried to call his name.

Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and you let out the breath you had been holding. Unfortunately, you had inhaled too much smoke, resulting in a violent cough that wracked your body.

Clutching your chest, you hunched over, trying to cough out the smoke while moving away from him. Just then, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you down to him. You attempted to focus on his face, searching for any injuries, but your eyes were tearing up, and your vision was blurred from the smoke-filled atmosphere.

Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, his voice broke through, shaky and hoarse but still as sharp as a knife. “What are you doing in here, kitten?” His eyes were half-lidded, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me outside?”

You tried to help him rise, but his heavy body only dragged you down, sending you sprawling onto the floor. As he noticed your condition, his eyes sharpened with concern, and his features turned serious. He began removing his coat, which was now dirty and full of holes.

“Sylus—you need to get out of here,” you urged, trying to push him away as he attempted to cover you completely with his coat.

“Don’t talk right now, sweetie.” His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as he made sure no part of your upper body was exposed. Your hands were now firmly pinned to your torso beneath his coat. “And don’t fight me.”

His fingers came to your face, squeezing gently until your lips formed a pout and your attention was solely on him. “Stubborn little kitten,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.

Just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you felt the tendrils of his red-black mist enveloping you, pushing through your evol’s resistance and carrying you away from the chaos.

When you finally opened your eyes, it took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The unmistakable scent of Sylus’s mattress enveloped you, grounding you in reality. You were back at the mansion.

Your limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in your head. Every part of your body screamed for you to stay in bed, to drift back into sleep and forget everything that had happened before you lost consciousness. But your mind was fixated on one thing: Sylus.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, quickly glancing over your body. To your relief, you realized you were freshly cleaned and dressed in one of your nightgowns, with no significant injuries aside from a few scratches on your skin.

You took a moment to steady yourself, ensuring your vision wouldn’t fade to black before you attempted to walk across the room toward the door. Sylus’s office was just down the hallway, and as you stepped outside, you could faintly hear Luke and Kieran’s voices drifting from inside. You paused, heart pounding, and when you heard Sylus’s gruff tone, a wave of relief washed over you. He was okay.

After a brief moment, you knocked once before turning the doorknob and peeking through the small opening. Sylus’s gaze met yours immediately, and the twins turned to regard you with their rare smiles. It wasn’t often they dropped their masks, even in the mansion, but now their boyish features shone through. Their red hair was pulled back into matching messy ponytails, and a hint of blush colored their cheeks as they took in your appearance in the gown.

Sylus coughed discreetly, and the twins exchanged glances before standing up to give you two some privacy.

As they made their way to the door, Kieran paused to ruffle your hair playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You gave us a scare there, little crow.”

You regarded both twins with a small, apologetic smile before turning your full attention to the white-haired man seated behind his desk. He still wore his torn shirt, which left his muscular frame fully exposed. With a languid movement, he rolled his chair away from the desk and beckoned you with a finger.

Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as his intense gaze roamed over your form. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you approached and stood before him, his legs slightly apart, causing your knees to brush against the inside of his thighs as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell to his toned chest, now marred with scratches and bruises—evidence the damage inflicted, perhaps a sign that he was running low on evol energy and unable to heal completely.

“Are you okay?” Your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, still tinged with hoarseness. You clasped your hands behind your back, fidgeting awkwardly.

You weren’t quite sure what had come over you; you had never before found yourself in a situation where you needed to actively express your concern for Sylus until tonight, and you hoped he wouldn’t recall too much of what had transpired in that building.

“Worried, kitten?” he asked, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips as his gaze swept over your body. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch you, yet he seemed equally torn, grappling with the worry that had gripped him when you had passed out in his arms.

You sniffled softly, your eyes darting anywhere but to him, your body tense and rigid as if your bones were locking into place. Instead of answering his question, you opted to redirect the conversation. “Do we know what caused the explosion?”

His expression was unreadable, and you noticed his jaw tick slightly as he processed your words. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, raising his hand to brush his knuckles gently across your arm. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, and you could see the corners of his lips curl slightly at your reaction. This time, he didn’t bother to hide himself from you.

“I did.”

“What?” Your voice came out louder than intended, earning a deep, rumbling chuckle from Sylus. He relaxed further into his chair, locking his carmine eyes onto yours with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

 “What are you talking about, Sylus? When I came in there…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask the emotion in your voice. “When I came in, you had fainted. What would have happened to you if I hadn’t found you in time?”

Amusement danced freely in his eyes at your small outburst. You truly were exquisite in your concern. “You underestimate me too much, sweetie.”

“You’re the one underestimating your enemies, Sylus!” You raised your voice, your hands gesturing in disbelief. “Just because you’re the leader of Onychinus doesn’t mean they can’t get to you if you’re unconscious.”

“Burnt men can’t walk, kitten.”

A small gasp escaped your lips at the speed and bluntness of his response. His smugness only fueled your anger at his reckless behavior. Leaning down, you gripped the arms of his chair, effectively caging him in. You were about to respond when you suddenly realized the position you had put yourself in. It gave him a full view of your breasts, the fabric of your nightgown flowing away from your skin and leaving little to the imagination.

Your ears and cheeks burned a deep crimson as you tried to pull away just as quickly as you'd leaned down. However, Sylus’s arm had already wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place and pulling you impossibly closer. Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his pupils had dilated, his lips parting slightly as he fixated on your slowly hardening nipples.

“Sylus…” Your voice was barely a whisper now, heat pooling in your core under his intense gaze.

Finally, Sylus’s eyes met yours, and he began to stroke your back slowly, his tone low as if he feared shattering the delicate bubble that enveloped you both. “The explosion; It was my plan all along. Why else would I want you out and away from the building, sweetie?”

A frown crossed your face at his admission. Despite your initial shock, your body grew more compliant under his gentle strokes as he pulled you in, guiding you to straddle his thigh. His red irises darkened just a bit when your pulsing core made contact with his jeans and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he could probably feel just how wet you were.

Yet, he continued speaking, his voice smooth and steady. “Tonight had no other way of going. It was necessary and inevitable.”

“But why?” Your eyes had softened since you’d first entered his room, and you found yourself relaxing more beneath his touch as he explained the events of the night.

“Because, kitten, tonight’s transaction was off the table the moment it was proposed by the other side, a few days back when I was still away."

By now, confusion began to cloud your understanding of Sylus’s motives. “But…” Your gaze drifted to his desk, where numerous files lay scattered. “Is this why you came back earlier? Tonight’s transaction was for that protocore you needed, Sylus. I thought nothing could screw this up for you. Weren’t you after it for years?”

Sylus let out a small scoff, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied your face intently. “You never asked me what the price of that protocore was, kitten.”

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him again, instinctively leaning closer. Your breasts brushed against his chest, heightening the tension between you as if his answer were a secret he needed to share. “And what was the price?”

“You.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and a dark cloud crossed his features as he spoke. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, causing you to squirm on his thigh, which elicited a low grunt from him.

Your emotions were a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling together and leaving you breathless as you tried to process what he was implying. “So what you’re saying is…”

“The deal was off the table the moment they thought you were for sale.” Sylus’s leg bounced suddenly, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your hands instinctively flew out to clutch the fabric of his open shirt for stability. “I came back because I had to send a message.”

His voice dripped with malice as he continued to move his leg, sending shockwaves of sensation through your core as it ground against his thigh.

The pleasure mixed with confusion made you feel light-headed; even if you wanted to resist, your body had already betrayed you. There was no stopping your hips from chasing the friction, no way to quell the whimpers that escaped your lips. Sylus’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your nightgown at the sound.

As you continued to grind against him, he spoke with a dark intensity. “They had to know, kitten; Nobody lives to say they tried to bargain with what belongs to me.”

“I—I don’t belong to you,” you breathed out, unsure whether you were trying to lie to him or to yourself.

“Is this why you’re drenching my thigh, sweetie?” As if to emphasize his point, he bounced his knee again, causing it to press against your sensitive nerves with a force that made you moan involuntarily, your head falling to rest on his shoulder.

“You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear, his hand sliding to your lower back, urging you to grind down against him.

“Tonight—you put yourself in danger, Sylus.” You struggled to form coherent thoughts as you chased your orgasm on his thigh, your mind slowly turning to mush. “That was so stupid, even for you.” You finished your sentence with a moan, and Sylus groaned, instinctively moving his hips upward, his own hard-on seeking friction.

“Were you worried about me, kitten?” He dipped his head to your neck, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses as he awaited your response, which never came. Sensing your hesitation to voice your concern, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingertip pressing onto your throbbing clit, making you cry out. “Answer me.”

“I—yes. Yes, I was s'worried.” Your head fell back in bliss, granting him access to suck and nibble on your throat as your hips moved faster and harder. The tight coil in your belly was only a few movements away from bursting. “I thought I’d—”

“Go on.” Sylus urged, his fingers dancing over your clit as he bounced his knee in sync with your movements, relishing the way you were making a mess on him, your whole body heating under his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you.” The words escaped your lips just as your orgasm washed over you, making your vision go black and your entire body shake with its intensity. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, caging you against his chest as he let you ride it out, offering the small comfort you sought after your confession.

When you finally came down from your high, you were breathless, panting, and a few tears had escaped your eyes. But he was there, holding you gently and running his fingers through your hair. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sweetie.”

You pushed your head off his chest, your eyes meeting his soft red ones. Without thinking clearly, you reached out to cradle his face. The moment your fingertips made contact with his skin, his whole body visibly flinched, and just like his heartbeat, it felt like time had stopped.

Horrified and regretful, you realized you had let your emotions get the best of you and forgotten about your evol. You stood up from his lap, pressing your hands tightly against your chest, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and he’ll wake up, like he always does, right? Doubts gnawed at you; he was so weak after tonight, but his evol would heal him. It had to.

Just when you were about to scream for help, Sylus’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes fluttered open, and relief flooded your entire being. Your shoulders slumped, and your body shook, even though he was alright. How could you have been so careless?

“Sweetie.” His voice was soft as he stood from his chair, towering over you. “Look at me.”

You tilted your head up hesitantly, your regrets gnawing at you for what you had just done. You tried to open your mouth to apologize, but no words came out; instead, his lips found yours, silencing any sound you might have made. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling gently to angle your head to the side and deepen the kiss until you thought you might faint from lack of breath.

This time, you made sure to keep your hands glued to your sides, not daring to touch him again. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. He rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand to the back pocket of his pants, retrieving something.

You tilted your head to watch him unfold two pieces of leather gloves. He carefully took your wrist, drawing it toward him before placing the glove on your hand, then moved to the other to do the same. It was a temporary solution, one that frustrated you to no end, but you wouldn’t jeopardize his life just for a touch of his soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your thoughts crashing over you like a tsunami of negativity at the prospect of harming him. Your frustration only fueled your desperation, and you found yourself clawing at the remnants of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “I need you, please, Sylus, ’m so sorry.”

Sylus groaned as he felt you tugging him nearer, his own hands finding refuge on your body, touching and caressing anywhere he could reach. “Are you sure, kitten? Once we start, I don’t know if I can hold back.” His voice was low and controlled, while your legs trembled with desire and need.

“Then don’t hold back. Give me everything you have. I can take it, Sylus.” You pressed kisses all over his exposed chest, making him gasp and thin his patience. In one swift motion, you found yourself lifted off the floor, your body cradled in one of his arms as he carried you toward his desk.

“You really know how to bring a man to his knees, sweetie.” He placed you gently on top of the desk, taking his position between your legs. Your lips connected again as his hands deftly worked to rid you of your clothes.

Once you were bare before him, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over your body like a starving man taking in a feast. “Breathtaking.”

He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders with a force that sent you backward, your elbows bracing against the desk for balance. He was too impatient to tease; he dived right in, his tongue lapping at your folds with urgent fervor.

Your back arched immediately, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he worked his mouth on your cunt, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs tightened around his head, the pleasure overwhelming, which only made him groan and feast on you harder.

His tongue plunged into your tight hole, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You thought you could hold on a little longer, but when his large hand spread across your tummy, pressing down, you exploded in his mouth. Your vision went white as you drenched him, your thighs shaking violently around his head.

The realization of what you had done hit you when he pulled away, his chin and exposed chest glistening with droplets of your release. You shot your gloved hand to cover your mouth, your legs instinctively closing in embarrassment.

Yet, he looked even more exhilarated, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them, his lips finding yours once more. “You’re going to do this again. And this time, you’re going to do it on my cock.”

He pushed you back, a firm hand on your chest as you lay spread out on top of his desk. Your eyes focused on his hands as they deftly undid his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. The moment you saw his girthy cock—veiny and the tip angry and red for you—your mouth went dry.

You craved to satisfy him as he had satisfied you, but when you tried to sit up, his hand pressed you back down against the desk.

“Not tonight, sweetie. Right now, I just need to be inside you.”

Even though he spoke, he made no move to get on you, waiting for your consent first. You nodded, your eyes clouded with lust.

“Use your words, kitten. I need to hear you.” He was pumping his cock with his hand, his fingers barely wrapping around it. Standing before you in all his naked glory, he resembled a Greek statue, and your chest tightened at how wickedly beautiful he looked.

“Yes. Please, Sy, need you inside me.” Your voice came out breathless, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped an arm around your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the desk and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you open exactly as he desired.

He pushed the tip in at first, making you clench around him instinctively, as if trying to suck him deeper. An unsteady breath escaped him, and his body stuttered momentarily. You were killing him in the sweetest way. “So goddamn tight.”

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he pushed further inside you, his grip on your thigh tightening the moment he was fully buried in you, his pelvis pressing against yours. You could feel him all the way up into your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even though he remained still.

His breathing had turned erratic, and the moment your hips squirmed forward, his other hand came down to keep you in place. “Shit, baby, don’t move. Give me a moment.”

You were a whimpering mess, sweat beading on your forehead from the anticipation. But the instant he started moving, your whole body unlocked, turning to pudding under his thrusts. He began with a slow, deliberate pace, his lips parting as small grunts escaped him, each thrust igniting the fire building within you.

The more you clenched down on his cock, the faster he moved, until the desk scraped against the marble floor. “Fuck, kitten. You’re squeezing me so tightly.” His voice was thick with lust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin only intensified the fire burning deep in your core. “Do you love my cock that much?”

Your mind had turned to mush, thoughts consumed by how he stretched you and filled you to the brim. You nodded uncontrollably, crying out every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Yes! I love it so much, Sy.”

“Good girl.” Sylus’s thrusts quickened as he heard your pretty sounds, the way your walls sucked him in making his thighs tremble slightly as he felt his release drawing near. “Such a good girl, so cock-hungry for me.”

“Ah— fuck.” Stars began to form behind your eyelids, your whole body rocking on the desk. If it weren’t for Sylus’s hands gripping your thighs, you would have slid right off and ended up on the floor from his relentless force. The desk shook violently from his pounding, and you were certain the whole house could hear you.

Sylus’s hand reached for your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip before slipping past it to press down on your tongue, making you clench around his cock instinctively. “That’s it, sweetie,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in pleasure as your cunt hugged him tightly. “Give it to me; I can feel how close you are.”

You were indeed on the brink, your whole body burning and trembling under Sylus’s powerful thrusts. But what sent you over the edge was a sudden knock on the door, followed by Luke’s voice calling out to see if everything was alright.

The moment you realized you had been caught, and Luke could turn the doorknob at any second to find you spread for Sylus, his cock pressing against your cervix, you exploded. Your loud moans were partly muffled by the white-haired man's finger in your mouth. The pressure you applied around his cock as you climaxed made Sylus falter, his own orgasm crashing over him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

His hot seed coated your walls, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he continued to thrust, ensuring every last drop found its way inside. You were a crying, spent mess on his desk, while he tried to catch his breath, slowly lowering your leg back down from his shoulder.

Luke was long gone from outside the door, having heard enough to realize what was happening between you and Sylus.

You could only look up at him with a small shared chuckle before he leaned down to kiss your lips, his newfound gentleness contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. “I believe they received a lesson about eavesdropping now,” he murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

ps; this story has the potential to delve into other parts, either of Sylus and reader in the future or of their shared past from the moment he found her. You can always comment and let me know if you'd like to see something more from this fic:))

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Request from @bisexuawolfsalt: May you please write a Bucky x virgin!reader who’s never been able to get herself off?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female virgin!reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: masturbation, fingering

Everything about you was different. You'd always felt it. You never fit in with the people you'd grown up with. Friends had never felt close. You were sheltered, your parents had a habit of being overprotective, helicoptering over you until they were in a fatal accident just before your eighteenth birthday. That's when things changed for you, not just what you'd lost, but your body too. You were different, but not in the way you'd thought all your life. You were powered. You kept to yourself throughout college, barely keeping anyone around you as more than an acquaintance. Relationships were a foreign concept to you, be it one of friendship or romance. You'd experienced neither.

That was your story, until you found yourself in New York City in the middle of a Chitari invasion. When you back up an Avenger with your powers, you get noticed. Tony Stark found you and brought you in. It took some convincing, you weren't ready, you were afraid. You'd hidden yourself with a job in the New York Public library. But eventually you agreed to move into the Stark Tower.

That's where you first met Bucky. You had gotten to know Steve, Natasha, and Tony pretty well. Steve had come to knock on your door one day and brought Bucky with him. He had returned from Wakanda, free from his Winter Soldier programming. He didn't look as frightening as people had described him. There was a kindness behind his brilliant blue eyes, an intelligence and a sadness that drew you in. He was a solitary soul and so were you. 

You felt comfortable in his presence. He said very little, in fact he barely made eye contact initially. Steve had encouraged him to make a friend and Bucky had chosen you, you didn't pester him about his well being, didn't cajole him about attending therapy, in fact you didn't bother him at all. You were the perfect friend. These were the reasons you believed Bucky had chosen you.

In reality Bucky couldn't get enough of being around you. He was drawn to you and you to him. Finally he had confessed his feelings to you and you had kissed him. Only Steve knew about your relationship with Bucky, you kept things private. You spent all your down time with Bucky but the two of you hadn't slept together, yet. Bucky had insisted that you wait until you were ready, after you'd told him that you hadn't been in any relationships in the past.

Today hadn't been any different from any other, not really. You'd spent time training in the gym with Steve, you'd done some reading, having decided to pursue a medical degree with your interest in science. You had a lot to learn, but you decided to take a break and grab yourself a bit of food. You walked into the kitchen where a group of SHIELD agents were also eating and talking. You blushed profusely when you heard their topic of discussion… masturbation!

“I love my Lioness. I swear if men’s penises were made with a vibration setting, I'd actually consider being with one,” one of them mused.

“Oh sweet girl, I’ve been married for five years, and let me tell you, sometimes only you have the means to get the job done. I mean I love my human dildo, but the rubber one gets the job done much better. It's got a suction up, so just slam it against the wall and go to town on it," her older colleague chimed in.

"Ah, you kids and your new fangled inventions and toys. I'm pretty old school, my fingers have been doing the job just fine for me all these years. Batteries not included," she smirked.

Their words made you blush, you had no idea what a Lioness even was, you cowered in the corner trying not to eavesdrop. The last thing you wanted was to be involved in this conversa-

"Hey!" You heard Piper, one of the agents calling your name. "What's your preference?"

You mostly kept to yourself, the other agents had no idea of your childhood or your lack of experience and you'd kept to yourself to avoid questions exactly like this.

“I - ummm…” you started stuttering nervously, eyes darting around for an excuse to avoid answering the question. You hoped no one would notice you biting your lip and wringing your hands with anxiety. “You know…”

“Come on girl, are you saying that hunk of yours is that good?”

“What?” You were shocked by Piper’s comment. 

“Barnes, is he as good in bed as he looks like he would be?”

“What-”

“You don’t need to pretend, we’ve seen the two of you holding hands and smacking lips.”

You blushed, you had no idea that other people were aware of your relationship. But they couldn’t know that you hadn’t sealed the deal, could they?

“You have to give us some details,” they laughed good naturedly. “Is he that good that you don’t need to … you know, take care of yourself every now and then?”

There was no malicious intent in their questions, they were just making jovial conversation and including you, but you just wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. You wanted to tell them that Bucky was good, but you knew that they weren’t asking if he was a good person, they wanted to know if he was good at sex. You weren’t so out of touch with the world that you didn’t know what they were insinuating.

“He’s an amazing person-”

You were cut off by their beepers sounding off at the same time. Saved by the bell.

“See you around.” They smiled and winked at you as they left to see to their duties.

A silent sigh of relief escaped your lips as you gathered your meal and sat down in the vacated dining area. Your heart was no longer pounding on the inside of your chest, but your brain was in overdrive as you ruminated over the conversation between the agents. Without realizing it, you were thinking about what masturbation would actually be like. 

You weren’t completely innocent or devoid of sexual urges, you had admired both handsome men and beautiful women, some of whom had even had you aroused. But you hadn’t dared act on those urges, mostly because you had no idea how and you were too ashamed to ask anyone you did know. You felt embarrassed that you had reached the age that you were without having had any real sexual encounters. You had been hesitant to explore your own anatomy, even in the privacy of your own home and now you’d reached the point in your life where you were too afraid to try it alone.

Your lunch remained half uneaten as you pondered your dilemma. Your interest had definitely been piqued and you started thinking about Bucky. He had been patient with you and your reluctance to engage in more intimate behavior. He had been incredibly understanding when you’d admitted to him that you were a virgin and hadn’t pushed you into any kind of non consensual conduct.

Everything you’d seen on television or read about, the act of sexual intercourse, the pleasure that came from an orgasm, you wanted to know how it felt. You felt a stirring between your legs at the very thought. But where would you get the information to do things right? You had so many questions. You thought about looking online but the computers in the Tower were all networked, and JARVIS had the ability to look into any search history. The thought of someone finding out terrified you. No, you would have to try something else.

This brought your thoughts around to Bucky. After careful consideration, you determined that Bucky was probably the best person to discuss your areas of learning. You knew that he was a little more experienced than you were and if you were to share a future with him, you would eventually engage in more intimate activity. So he would be the perfect person to ask. You picked up your phone and typed out a message.

You: Can I ask you something? It’s a bit embarrassing.

Bucky’s phone pinged as he sat listening to a discussion between Sam and Steve. He enjoyed watching them battle wits, as long as he wasn’t asked to take part. And when he did, he always sided with Steve, regardless of what his actual opinion was. He took his eyes off the pair to see your face light up his screen. Your face never failed to make the corner of Bucky’s mouth quirk up, as hard as he tried to hide it. 

Bucky had never met anyone quite like you. Despite the trauma and loneliness you had suffered, it hadn’t made you cold or hard, in fact he thought you were the single most kind-hearted and loving person he’d ever met. Your intelligence surpassed that of many and he was almost shocked that you had chosen to bestow your affection on him. You were his angel, sent from heaven to show him what real love was. He texted you back immediately.

Bucky: Anything. 

Bucky’s whole attention was on you now, your question had piqued his interest far more than the conversation between Sam and Steve ever had.

You: How do you masturbate?

Bucky’s eyes were ready to pop out of his skull as he read your question.

“Buck?” Steve called his friend again, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah?” Bucky cleared his throat, tearing his attention away from his phone.

“Can you settle this for us?”

“Yeah, I agree with Sam,” he answered.

Sam and Steve watched him get up and walk away with their jaws on the floor. But Bucky had no time for nor interest in their reaction. He was focused on your question.

Bucky: What makes you ask this question?

You: There were some agents in the kitchen and they were talking about masturbation…

Bucky: And you are curious?

You: Well yeah. So are you going to answer the question?

Bucky thought for a moment before responding.

Bucky: There isn’t just one way to masturbate. 

You: Care to elaborate?

Bucky: Most people use their fingers. Now they have all these toys.

He thought for a moment, before sending a follow up text.

Bucky: Back in the day, we would make do with what was around. You just need to use it right.

As much as Bucky longed to offer you a hands on demonstration of the concept, he knew that he should give you the space to learn and experience things at your own pace, particularly with regards to your sexual relationship.

Bucky: You need to figure out what YOU like.

You bit your lip as you read Bucky’s answers, your fingers hovering above the screen as you tried to work up the courage to continue your conversation.

You: I don’t know what to do.

Bucky: You just have to try things out and see how you feel.

You typed out your response, you felt a tingling between your legs and an unfamiliar dampness. It took you several minutes for you to press send.

You: Will you show me?

Bucky’s mouth went dry as he read your reply. He felt himself stir at that thought of your question. He read your words over and over, contemplating his next move.

Bucky: Are you sure?

Bucky didn’t want to pressure you, or make you do anything you didn’t feel comfortable with, but the thought of being closer to you, more intimate with you made his body react and he could feel blood pumping south.

You: Ordinarily I’d probably use a Google search but I’m not particularly where I should be looking. Also most things are probably not targeted at women past their teenage years. Also I didn’t particularly want to leave a trail of cookies in my search history.

Bucky wasn't quite sure he understood all of your message. I was rather old fashioned, and even though he had some understanding of the modern world, he didn't feel entirely comfortable. He decided to help you the best way he knew how.

Bucky: Meet me when you're done with work?

You: Sure. Where do you want to meet?

Bucky: Your room. 6pm. Wear something comfortable.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you read his message and answered.

You: See you soon.

Anticipation and anxiety had you back in your quarters much earlier than the time Bucky had advised. You decided to be prepared for his arrival, so you took a shower and performed all your necessary grooming rituals. You weren’t entirely out of the loop with regards to sex, but clinical application was very different from actual intimacy. The thought of Bucky’s touch excited you. Your relationship with him mostly involved emotional intimacy, he was nervous too, worried about hurting you physically. He had been happy to let you take the lead for the physical aspect of your relationship.

The thought of his touch elicited a tantalizing reaction from your body, the warmth, the wetness between your legs was exhilarating. There was an urge to touch yourself. It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought about this before, even tried exploring your own body, but you’d never quite achieved the intended goal. Today felt different. You could feel yourself pulsing in a way that you’d not felt before. And if Bucky wasn’t able to help you understand your own body, you were certain that no one would.

You put on a slightly oversized t-shirt, it was loose enough for you to move with ease, but fitted enough that your figure wasn’t hidden. You grabbed a pair of booty shorts, choosing to slip it over your hips without any underwear. The feeling of them against your uncovered core made you feel wicked. Your heart was still pounding and you needed something to relax, so you grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir and poured yourself a generous glass.

A knock at the door made you jump, and the contents of the glass sloshed around dangerously. You took a small sip before putting it down on the counter of the small kitchenette in your room and went to answer the door. 

“Hi.” You barely breathed the word as you found Bucky at your door.

He looked ethereal, he had clearly taken the time to go back to his room and prepare for your rendezvous after spending the day training new recruits. He slipped past you with a gentle greeting. He had washed his long hair which was loose and still slightly damp. He had donned a maroon Henley which you had told him was your favorite and as he brushed against you, you caught the scent of his cologne which did nothing but increase your arousal.

“How was your day, Doll?” Bucky asked, giving you a gentle peck on the cheek.

“Seriously, you want to ask about my day?” you said nervously, wringing your hands together.

Suddenly you felt out of your depth. How could this beautiful specimen of a man possibly be here for intimate relations with you? You turned around and took a mouthful of wine, coughing slightly as you swallowed.

“Hey, easy there, Doll. Being drunk isn’t helpful. You know,” he paused for a moment, “we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. You could feel his heart beating as your head rested against him. It was calming and you looked up at him.

“I want to.”

“If you change your mind at any time, you will tell me, right?”

You nodded, appreciative of his understanding.

“Sit down for a minute. I’m just going to set up a few things.”

“What kind of things?

Bucky held up a few candles. “I thought they’d make you feel more comfortable, relaxed.”

You watched Bucky place candles around your room and then dim the lighting. His movements were elegant, so smooth. You marveled at his grace and agility, his touch was delicate and you wondered how his hands would feel on your body. When he was done he came over to sit beside you as you clutched your wine glass.

“Oh Bucky, I’m sorry, here, let me get yo-”

You stopped as he put his hands on your shoulders. “Listen, before we start, no matter what happens today, I’m just here to help you… you know, please yourself. That doesn’t mean that we need to go any further. You don’t owe me sex. Got that?”

You nodded, feeling more relaxed, like he’d taken the weight of expectation off your shoulders. “Yeah, okay,” you whispered.

“Anytime you want to sto-”

His words were cut off by your lips on his. “Sorry,” you pulled away slowly. “You were kinda freaking me out.”

Bucky chuckled at your shyness.

“So what now?” you asked, uncertain of how to proceed.

“Do you feel…” He wasn’t sure how to ask you if you felt turned on.

You shrugged. “Every time I think about this, I feel nervous, but also kinda tingly.” Subconsciously, you squeezed your legs together seeking the pleasure that came from the friction.

Your reflexive moments didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. “You feel good?”

You nodded. “Will you kiss me?”

Bucky smiled, cupping your face with his hands, pulling your lips towards his, caressing them with his tongue before gently slipping it into your mouth. His right arm dropped down, coming to rest around your waist. Both of you lost yourselves in the kiss for a few minutes before Bucky pulled away. “Want to keep making out?”

“Well, it is nice, but I’m ready. What do I do?”

“Do you want to take your clothes off?”

A soft blush crossed your features, Bucky could see it in the glow of candlelight. You started taking off your t-shirt, raising your arms to pull it over your head. Bucky’s eyes lingered over your breasts, trying not to stare as you struggled with the neck. He eventually tore his gaze away to help you complete the task. Bucky tossed the shirt aside on a nearby armchair and turned back to you. You could help but try to cover yourself with your arms.

“You look beautiful, Doll.” Bucky murmured. “What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?”

“I mean, I feel kinda exposed. Maybe if we were on even footing it would be less awkward?”

Bucky laughed, “so you want me to take my top off?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

Bucky used one hand to swiftly shed his Henley, letting you ogle his chiseled chest for a moment.

"Why don't make yourself comfortable on the pillows.” He nodded his head up to the top of the bed.

You followed his instruction, crawling over to the top. You’d spent many an evening with Bucky buried under the covers watching movies late into the night. Several times you’d woken up the following morning wrapped in his arms, but today was different. You sat back against the stack of pillows making yourself comfortable.

“Aren’t you coming?” You asked, realizing that he was still sitting at the end of the bed.

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Well, if you want me to…” he answered, voice suddenly a little shaky.

“Were you planning on sitting there with all your clothes on, watching me get myself off. I mean that’s kinda off putting.”

He walked around the edge of the bed and climbed on to sit beside you.

“If you take off your pants, I’ll lose my shorts.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Doll.” He smirked before shimmying off his jeans.

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t help the flush on your face as you stared at the outline of his bulge. Bucky smirked.

“Like what you see, Doll?”

There was something in his tone that made your insides feel tight, like there was something inside you trying to escape and you kept squeezing to stop it. Your body responded to his words in a way you’d never felt before.

“Your turn,” he said quietly, not a command, more of a request.

You lifted your ass off the bed and pushed your shorts down, over your thighs, sliding them over your knees and let them fall over your calves. Bucky helped you to unhook them from your feet before tossing them to the foot of the bed, just in case you wanted them again. He took a moment to let his eyes rove over your naked form, oh how he longed to touch you, but today was not for him to indulge his fantasies. Today was for you.

“Will you sit with me?” you asked.

“Can’t get a lot closer than this, Doll.” He was sitting right beside you, his thigh touching yours.

“Can we sit like we did the other day? When we went to the beach?” You remembered how it had felt to sit between Bucky’s legs, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. You felt safe from the world. It’s not that you needed Bucky to keep you safe physically, you were perfectly capable of looking after yourself, no, he made you feel accepted. It was a feeling you wanted to hold on to forever.

Bucky let you climb between his legs, taking a deep breath as your ass brushed against him, “Okay?” he asked, his hands holding the top of your arms gently.

You nodded. “What now?”

“Well… we just need to figure out what you like, what feels good for you.” He paused, trying to figure out how best to advise you. It wasn’t like there was an official manual to be followed. “May I?” He put his fingers around your wrist, asking for permission to guide your movements.

His palm radiated warmth and you felt goosebumps erupting across your arms. “That feel good?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t we start up here?” He guided your hand up to your neck. “Start with soft touches.”

Following Bucky’s instruction, you traced the muscles along your neck and across your clavicle. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you reach the center of your chest. Bucky’s eyes flicked to your face as you closed your eyes and leaned back into him, his chest moves up and down slowly. His sturdiness and strength only served to amplify your arousal. He saw you bite your lower lip as your fingers grazed the skin on your breast. Naturally you cupped it, massaging the tissue slowly. 

“Try pinching your nipple,” he whispered in your ear.

You do as you’re told and find yourself whimpering quietly. The feeling between your legs amplified ten fold, clenching needily.

“And the other side too, Doll.” Bucky muttered, his fingers sliding up and down your upper arm, the same arm you were using to touch your own body. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you sighed.

You leaned back again, the delectable sensations had you arching your back and now that you had moved past your breast, you noticed that the level of pleasure had changed a little, dimmed slightly. Bucky watched with rapt attention, mentally noting what you responded to for future reference. He resisted the urge to bury his face in your neck, press his lips against your sweet smelling skin. Your fingers skated quickly over your abdomen and made their way between your legs.

“Take your time, Doll. From what I've learned, getting a woman all worked up makes things more… intense.

"Before you touch down there, try rubbing here," he moved your hands to your thighs. "Just on the inside, Doll, just like that. You can use your fingers, or your whole hand. Try and see what you like."

You sighed, trying out the different techniques on the flesh of your thighs. Bucky’s skin itched with desire, there was nothing he wanted more than to put his own hands on your thighs, but he had promised you and he would keep his word.

“I like it more with my finger tips,” you leaned back into him, looking up into his eyes with a smile.

As you did, you noticed something pressing into your lower back. You pushed against it, curious about its shape. A shuddering breath and strangled moan escaped your boyfriend’s lips.

You looked back up at Bucky with surprise and you saw the blush on his face. It is a little embarrassing that it took you so long to realize what was touching you.

“Is that…”

“Yeah…you can just ignore… him. He shows up sometimes without invitation,” Bucky mumbled.

“Do you want me to-” you started asking if he wanted you to touch him, but Bucky cut you off.

“No, today we’re here for you. Focus on your own body.” Bucky shifted his hips back to avoid further friction but that didn’t quite stop his body reacting to you.

Bucky’s fingers skated across your skin with the lightest of touches, his breathing heavier than it was before as he watched your hands stroke over your inner thighs, edging closer and closer to your leaking core.

“Buck-” you whined quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I want…”

“Go ahead, start with one hand, maybe?” he suggested. “Feel over the outside.”

You hummed, arching back against him, and earning a groan from Bucky.

“If you feel comfortable, you can put your fingers between the folds and try rubbing your-.”

“Clit?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, there’s a lot… it’s really wet.” You comment as your slick coats your exploring fingers.

“That’s good,” Bucky said encouragingly. “Have you found your-”

You gasped and grabbed Bucky’s muscular thigh as your fingers brushed over your sensitive bud for the first time. Your pussy clenched needily at the sensation. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled darkly.

You continue moaning as your fingers rub circles over your pulsing clit. “Oh Bucky…”

He groaned at the way his name left your lips, filled with such longing. He panted softly as his fingers dug into your flesh, he had moved them from your arms down to your waist and it was taking a lot of self control for him to not let them roam over the rest of your body.

“It feels, I … I -” You couldn’t find the words to express what you needed. The new deletable sensations were something you’d never experienced and it was almost overwhelming.

“Use your words, Doll. Tell me what you need.”

“Inside, I want something inside.” The throbbing at your core was getting stronger.

“Good girl, that means you’re doing it right.”

“How do I do it?”

“Move your legs apart a bit more.”

You obliged and Bucky moved his legs under yours so you could hook your ankles around them for support and open up for yourself.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” you said with more confidence, it felt good, you wanted this.

“Try putting one finger in first. Go slowly.” He put his hand on yours, directing your finger along your slit before helping you push into your entrance.

Your thighs tightened as your finger entered this new territory.

“Try to relax, Doll. Take your time.”

Your finger slipped inside, you took deep breaths in an attempt to slow your pounding heart. Bucky couldn't help himself, he put his hands on your thighs, almost a subconscious movement as he focused on your activities. Watching as you dragged your finger in and out of your dripping pussy.

"That's right, just like that." Bucky crooned in your ear. 

His lips felt soft on your neck. You didn't notice how he palmed himself at the same speed that your finger was disappearing inside you.

"If you want, you can put more fingers inside you."

“Umm hmmm.” You didn’t need his guidance to know what you wanted. “Keep talking though.” His voice in your ear was serving to be more an aphrodisiac than you’d expected. You changed the speed of your trusts, suddenly aware of a new feeling that you couldn’t quite identify.

“You like how that feels, Doll? Try hooking your fingers up slightly.” 

He knew you’d found the right spot because of the way you bit your lip and squeezed your eyes closed, pushing back into his chest.

“You’re allowed to make noise, Doll. Actually, I encourage it.”

Your hips began to rock of their own accord and you could hear Bucky panting behind you.

“Oh God,” you whined. “Bucky…”

“I’m right here, Doll. You’re doing so good,” he moaned. “Use this hand, here.” Bucky placed your other hand over your clit, letting you take over rubbing the hard bud.

“Bucky…”

“Yeah?”

“Bucky,” you whimpered desperately, brows knitted together. You had no idea what you wanted from him. “Bucky-yy.”

“It’s okay, Doll. You’ve got this.”

You did, because without warning you felt yourself hurtling over the edge of a precipice you didn’t know you’d been standing on. Your walls pulses around your fingers as your body undulated to the feeling of ecstasy spreading out from your core through to your fingertips. Your powers crackled in a glow that surrounded your body.

As your breath finally settled down, you relaxed back into Bucky’s arms, a ridiculous smile spread across your face. Bucky’s arms surrounded you, holding you making you feel safe and supported.

“So? How did it feel?” Bucky asked, a tad impatiently.

You laughed bashfully in response, words not quite able to describe how giddy you felt in that moment, until Bucky was laughing along with you. You caught his lips as he turned his head to look at you, expressing your thanks with an affectionate kiss. As you leaned back, you were reminded of Bucky’s situation. 

“That was amazing, Bucky. But what about you?” you asked.

“What about me?”

“Don’t you have to- I want to feel you… inside me.” Your voice dropped in volume at the end of your sentence.

Bucky shook his head. “Next time, today was for you. Besides, I kinda came when you were…” His voice trailed off looking a little embarrassed.

“Oh, sorry.” 

“No, it’s not your fault, well actually-”

“Hey!” you pouted.

“In a good way. You look beautiful."

"Thanks for not judging me."

"Thank you for accepting me. For trusting me."

"Of course, Bucky. What happens now?"

"After we get dressed, we can order some food and watch a movie?"

"And maybe plan for when we can do this again?" You asked shyly.

"Sure thing, Doll."

You were glad that you'd had the courage to ask Bucky for his help, and hopefully some day soon, you'd be able to feel even closer to him that you'd done today. 

[very-straight-blog]

Making Aegon a r*pist was lazy writing, and it only further demonstrate how the screenwriters aren't able to understand the concept of "grey character".

Do I think it should be completely overlooked? No. Because even if he didn't hurt Helaena he did r*pe Dyana (it was completely useless to his character and it only served the purpose of making him appear more irredeemable, but that's beside the point), and he should be held accountable for it by the viewers at the very least.

Do I also think Aegon's sexual trauma — that would be having to sire children at FUCKING FOURTEEN — was grossly overlooked and glazed over not only by the viewers but also by the screenwriters, and that it could have been represented in a vast variety of more poignant ways (for example, instead of making Aemond an SA victim because yes, they could have given Aegon that kind of relationship with the madame and dive deeper on how he seeks the love he doesn't receive from his family elsewhere)? Do I also think the screenwriters treated Aegon unjustly just because they are not capable of handling a male character with such deep, complex scars that cannot be fully explained in an eight-episodes-long series, and have therefore decided to butcher him because they prioritized hype instead of delivering an actual good product to the public?

Yes. Yes to all of that. As a mainly TB fan I felt myself being forced into my faction, because "who would support a r*pist?", and I came to find unjust how unreasonable this argument is: Daemon and Viserys are r*pists too, with the former literally asking young virgins be set aside for him in brothels and the latter being seen forcing himself on Alicent. Neither of them is held nearly as accountable for their misdeeds as Aegon, and to this day I don't understand why.

I agree with everything here in general and will talk a bit about this topic (I like to talk about Aegon, in case someone suddenly didn't notice).

Yes, the show certainly manipulates facts to endear viewers to one character and make them hate another. Almost everyone in this story has done terrible things, but a lot of fans behave as if the incident with Dyana was the worst of them. Well, I don't know, what about those women Daemon slept with in the brothels? Who often didn't want to be there, who were very young, because he preferred virgins. What about that servant who was killed to hide Laenor's escape? What about Rhea, whom Daemon killed in cold blood to marry Rhaenyra? And so on and so forth. And believe me, such planned crimes shock me much more than what the drunken idiot Aegon did without even remembering it later. Once again, did he do a bad thing? Yes. Is he a good person (character)? No. But at least I'm not trying to make him into someone he's not. And yes - Aegon is still an interesting and complex character that I adore. Not a villain and not just a "drunk and r*pist."

The problem is how his actions are presented to the viewer. Our acquaintance with adult Aegon literally begins with this rape scene, this is our first impression of the character. Aegon has eight minutes of screen time in the first season, and three of them are devoted to the discussion of this incident. Plus, they don't give him anything that could justify it. Did Daemon kill his wife? Well, he did it for love. And this is deeply explored, we're forced to sympathize with the character and then we easily forgive him for such an act. Aegon is shown simply as an asshole without any redeeming traits.

Time skips cleverly mask the fact that Aegon and Helaena were teenagers at best when the twins were born. Helaena gave birth to TWO children at such an early age, they became parents against their own will, not being ready for it. It's interesting, it adds depth to the characters, it might explain why Aegon drinks so much - but of course the screenwriters won't show us that.

Again, Aegon's hypersexuality isn't something funny, it's not what makes him an asshole, it's a sign of trauma. He uses it to numb his loneliness. I believe that Aegon literally didn't have the opportunity to feel what love is in any form. His father disliked him and showed it openly. His mother loved him, but she never knew how to express it the way he needed to. He was married to his sister (the tragedy for both of them) and it was a matter of duty, not feelings. At the time of the first season, Aegon is deeply unhappy and this is obvious. I have every reason to believe that his need for physical intimacy is based on the fact that this is the only form of love he can receive. Considering that Aegon is quite smart, I even think that he himself understands how ugly this form is, but there's nothing he can do. During the act, I guess in some unhealthy way it really saves him from loneliness, longing and the need to be loved, but in the end it makes him even more unhappy.

My thought turned out to be a bit messy and it's time for me to shut up, otherwise I'll never finish, but the point is that the show manipulates the audience to create "the right" point of view for them and it's very annoying. And they also don't know how to create deep, controversial characters at all.

[drbased]

What's the root of this whole promiscuous women are "used up" thing? I understand that men are somehow convinced that sex irreversibly changes a woman, but I just can't make sense of the logic of it - like I just saw a popular social media post authored by a man who broke up with his girlfriend after finding out she had hookups on a weekly basis throughout college. The entire scenario is bizarre to me because nothing was materially wrong with her or the relationship, nothing was wrong with the quality of the sex, and nothing was even said about her body being physically different to other, more virginal women, yet he still viewed her as irredeemably desecrated. This man threw away an entire deeply intimate relationship over small insecurities and other men look at him in awe as a beacon of masculinity??? Really?? I just do not get it.

I'm going to disappoint you here but I don't really understand it either. I can write paragraph after paragraph of theory but on a personal level it still completely floors me - men have a system of 'logic' that is fundamentally alien to anything human and healthy and natural and I think we need to start thanking the gods that it's something we can't empathise with. But here's what I do understand - on a 'logical' level, if not emotional/human:

Firstly, throughout history there has been no separation between rape and sex. We don't think about this today, but the concept of 'consent' is fairly new in culture: historically, a man claims a woman through sex/rape. When men say they want to 'break' a woman through sex, they're talking about rape. The idea that a woman is irreversibly changed through sex is a quiet acknowledgement of the fact that rape changes a woman. That's exactly why rape is a such a good 'claiming' tactic: it's a form of torture, and the resulting trauma will disrupt the woman's ability to make decisions, including the decision to leave.

Men who believe it's possible to claim a woman, that she can be 'damaged' by sex, are rape-supporters if not rapists themselves. They believe in the power of rape, not in terms of its practical damage of women but rather in the sacred power of rape in the Collective Male Heterosexual Domination Over Woman At All Costs. They may have been having what can be functionally called 'consensual sex' with the woman they're dating, but ultimately they don't believe in consent: whether or not they made her by force, took advantage of her whilst drunk, coerced her through financial means, pestered her until she gave in, 'wooed' her through gifts, or simply that she had been conditioned into finding a man and sleeping with him based on societal pressure, men make no distinction between these things: they are all 'claiming'. The idea that she consented is fundamentally useless here, because there's an existing framework that works perfectly well without it. So every time a man sleeps with a woman, the more 'human' ones would rather not traumatise her too bad because, well, that would look pretty bad on them - but they still want to claim her regardless. They still hang onto this belief that they've managed to rape her on a technicality and this whole 'consent' thing is something that feminists made up to pretend we're not being raped all the time. This man wanted to believe that he had claimed this woman, but if she's already been 'claimed' by multiple men first, he simply cannot get the idea out of his mind that she was already raped and broken by them a long time ago.

Men claim that they hate the idea of women 'having sex', with other men, but they don't believe that women experience sexual pleasure until they're 'broken'. They don't believe that women experience sexual pleasure until they have been sufficiently claimed, traumatised, and subsequently have 'given up'. Like everything women do, we're supposed to only want it when he wants it. In practice that means never really consenting, simply 'enjoying what's given to you'. Men's belief is that once they claim a woman, she will only ever enjoy sex with him - because 1. he is a super unique and mommy's specialist little guy and 2. because that's his reward for claiming her. Only he gets to see and cause sexual pleasure - that's his reward. Of course, he doesn't even care most of the time if he gives her pleasure, but he's supposed to be the only one who can. For this reason, men make no functional difference between a slut and a whore: women who seemingly enjoy sex are no different than those who are factually being used for sex: because consent never mattered, and men believe that rape is what causes women to enjoy sex. If women are going out and enjoying sex, that's because they're succumbing to the conditioning by men that's primed them to be raped easily, and their 'enjoyment' is a measure of their quick acceptance to be claimed. That's what makes women 'easy'. Women are supposed to play 'hard to get' because no one wants a trophy that's easily won: men want to claim women through sex, and they want to make sure they have been the first to give her that trauma so big enough that he will be in her mind forever. The stuff about 'loose vaginas' etc. are just a gish-gallop: all the nonsense and double standards about women being sluts is designed to distract from the fact that men have no distinction between sex and rape, and they use the trauma of rape to claim a woman.

Men already have a functioning framework that simplifies and categorises the world as to their liking: it's easier to believe that you can simply claim a human being as your slave with one easy act that trauma-bonds them to you forever. Men are bonded to each other in an existentially terrified Collective Male Heterosexual Domination Over Woman At All Costs. In this system, neither men nor women are whole human beings - but rather each is symbolic of something more important. And to men, women have to represent everything that men are not: men have to view themselves as better than women because otherwise they'd have to face the harsh reality of their biological redundancy. Men have put their entire stake into this idea that they're the creators, the providers, the protectors, the claimers. They are the true humans, and their violence is proof that they're exercising their full power of humanity - that is, their full power to want. The mere fact that women can be raped is proof that on a biological level we don't want sex enough, and thus we can't ever be fully human. To men, women represent the crudity of nature (including how it is fully capable of replicating itself without them needing to be involved), and it's a crudity that needs to be conquered and claimed. It's the only way they can prove they're 'better' than us.

Men envy female friendships because they see the positive impact that it has on our psyche - something more powerful than all the raping they've been doing. But if they admit that kindness and empathy are traits that make us human, and that destruction is a crudity of nature, then the sunk-cost fallacy of rape is laid clear. Since they form part of the Collective rather than merely being an individual who learns their lesson all too late, actual progress on this stance is incredibly slow if not impossible: they've built the entirety of society on this existential terror. Just like a tyrant who runs his country into the ground for his own ego, men are inherently irrational - because they're terrified of the basics of life and existence in a way women simply aren't. You know how if you know a meal is coming then you're OK with being hungry, as opposed to it not being near mealtime and you're suddenly hyper-focusing on how hungry you are? Men are like that with their entire lives. They will put up with all this immense psychological discomfort, they will throw away materially beneficial things all the time because if they hang on a little longer, mommy will come along and fix all their problems - she will 'feed his ego' by 'willfully' debasing herself to prove he's better than her. The only thing men care about preserving is that they're Super Special and Above Women: that's it. No real rational decisions can ever be made when your motive is to achieve something that is essentially a symbolic concept tha only exists in your mind. That is why men have 'fragile egos'.

[nonagesiiiimus]

eden's tlt reread: chapter 1, significance of three and Gideon's not-so-subtle biblical parallels

okay... so i lied. i have more thoughts to start off this series! sue me. i will probably continue to have billions of thoughts.

one thing i didn't write about but wanted to talk about desperately (and will continue to talk about) is the religious overtones of TLT. it's pretty overt at times, and also snuck in so many places that it requires a couple takes. there's also a lot to be said about the way tamsyn uses philosophy, ancient mythology/history as well, but that's another post. here's my blindingly bright note that I AM NOT A RELIGIOUS SCHOLAR (just a lapsed Catholic lesbian) so if I get things wrong, please feel free to correct me (with kindness!)

i want to preface my whole close reading with the fact that i believe, like many in the fandom, that Gideon is a Jesus figure. there's a lot of ways this is represented throughout the series so far, along with the roles of everyone else, but here's why it makes sense to me.

Gideon's mother, Commander Wake, is a virgin mary figure. Wake is a descendant of the trillionaires, ie the humans that escaped the death of our solar system and Jod: therefore, she was never resurrected. one can argue that because she was never resurrected, she is free of the sin of necromancy, which lines up with mary being born free of original sin in the bible. just as Mary is born without sin by the grace of God, Wake is born free of the sin of necromancy.

just like jesus, Gideon too was born through immaculate conception: in this case, DIY IVF. when wake implants herself with Jod's sample (yuck), she conceives Gideon- the child of God- without carnal sin, just as jesus was placed into mary's womb by the holy spirit. the reason for Gideon's conception and birth was to be used as a sacrifice to others: Jesus was to save humanity, Gideon to open the tomb by undoing its blood wards with her Jod bloodline.

like Jesus, Gideon dies in sacrifice of love for others, to save them from Cytherea, and then is resurrected from the dead (arguably, first in Harrow's mind, and then by Jod as Kiriona- while neither of these is a true complete resurrection, i think we have reason to believe that that it is going to happen in Alecto when Gideon gets the rest of her soul back in her body).

Gideon's death is very crucifixion-y, and similar to the way Jesus is stabbed with a spear in the sides. It also results in stigmata: Jesus has marks on his body from being nailed to the cross, and Gideon has her stab wounds- both sharing the wound to the heart. another similarity is Gideon's forgiveness of Harrow before her death- very Jesus-like in its pure-heartedness and intention to wash away Harrow's guilt.

as i mentioned in my last post, Gideon itself is a biblical name with a story behind it. plagiarizing myself here: Gideon [in its original verb form] means one who cuts down, Hacker or One Who Hewed Down the Enemy. interesting quote from abarim publications: "The verb גדע (gada') means to hew down or cut off, mostly of religious regalia and holy trees and such. Strikingly, there are no nouns formed from this verb, suggesting that whatever was cut off, was no longer discussed and even cut off from speech itself." & in the naming systems section, tamsyn writes: "Gideon is a prophetic name: someone named their own demise in her" (p. 468).

in the story of Gideon, Christ chooses Gideon, a farmer hiding from the Midianites in his fields, to lead the people of Israel away from idolatry and free from the control of the Midianites. Gideon asks for proof from God that it is really Him, and God performs three miracles for Gideon. once he believes it really is God, Gideon is devoted to God and agrees to lead the Israelites to victory. He destroys the town's temple of Baal, a false idol. Gideon then amasses an army of men to go against the Midianites, and... absolutely wrecks them with a team of 300 men. Gideon has become a symbol of military success of a small force facing incredible odds, and for striking down false idols, and is also considered a saint in the Catholic church.

others: Gideon suffers physically for her entire life for the sins of the Ninth house against the 200 murdered children- torture and beatings the like. i'm sure i'm missing many of these parallels, but one of the last ones I want to highlight at the moment from GTN is the beloved pool scene: which serves as a confession chamber for Harrow's "sins", a baptism for them both, and a pledge of devotion to each other. Gideon expresses forgiveness too, despite all odds: when Harrow says"I don't deserve it," and Gideon says, "Maybe not...but that doesn't stop me from forgiving you" (p. 430). there's a question of whether Harrow feels cleansed from her sins, because Gideon does not acknowledge them as such- therefore, no forgiveness can really be had, perhaps, in Harrow's mind, because the crime she feels she has committed is not acknowledged. to be discussed further in that chapter!

why does the threes find significance in the series? three is a super important number in the bible, and comes up often there. three can be a symbol of divinity, of faith, of resurrection and of redemption. threes can signify a complete cycle, and is also used in testing people's faith: trials often come in threes. obviously we have the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: arguably Jod, Gideon, and Alecto. (Alecto also being one of three Furies in Greek mythology...) In the first scene of GTN, when Gideon is waiting for the shuttle in the dusty landing pad, three people try to tempt her back into the Ninth: Crux, Aiglamene, and Harrow. Jesus too was in the desert, tempted three different times over 40 days, and refused temptation.

these threes are something i definitely want to keep tracking- and if i've missed some in the first chapter of GTN, please shout them out! i'll update this here, and will keep flagging the threes and all biblical references i spot throughout the book, as i believe it's a great tool to uncover more meaning within the text!

UPDATE: after reading this interview, Tamsyn notes that there's like 6 different figures who play christ. i'd like to revisit this with Harrow's perspective in mind as well: with the harrowing of Hell being explicity her namesake, which Jesus carries out, and carrying Gideon's sword through all of HTN like a cross on her back, and her own suffering for the sins of innocents... but i'm getting ahead of myself! would love to see what others think about where Christ comparisons pop up for the other characters: i've been so Gideon focused i've probably missed tons!

[beecreeper]

1, 7, and 8!

Oh my god I ended up writing so much for this one O.O Thank you for the good asks

1.) What’s Durge’s creation myth? Not the ‘and then there was a gore baby’. Give me the details, what did Bhaal actually do for durge to torment Toril in a few years?

Eilidh I KNOW you know the answer to this one but also you know that I love durge creation lore thank you for letting me publicly rant about it.

I gave both of my durge’s surrogate bio mothers because even though durge was created from Bhaal’s flesh, I still wanted to give them somewhere to cook. (out of universe it’s because a friend of mine had an OC that matched the role of Briar’s bio mom too well not to use and then the concept got carried over to Ferox)

SO Briar’s bio mom is Saorise, an evil power hungry blood magic sorceress who really wanted a baby to mold into an extension of herself narcissist style. But she was infertile and also no man was worth doing it the traditional way with anyway so she made a deal with Bhaal instead – she would carry his freshly molded bhaalspawn and she would get to raise it however she wanted. Saorise didn’t necessarily worship Bhaal specifically but she knew his desperation for spawn could be leveraged in her favor. However things went wrong when a totally separate cult (not sure which god specifically because that’s more on my friend’s side of things) decided that Saorise needed to be taken out. So they cut the fucking baby out of her, womb and all. Saorise survived and is doing bitter old traumatized milf stuff in a different universe while baby Briar was then sold through sketchy Zhentarim channels to her foster parents and whisked away to Amn before Bhaal’s cult could track her down. Bonus fun fact! Saorise is Briar’s dream guardian which I LOVE because there’s some cool magic implied by the fact that her form is somehow in Briar’s mind despite the fact that they were separated even before birth.

Ferox’s bio mom is Amaura, a half orc woman who was a very very dedicated Bhaal cultist who was kind fringe devoted even by Bhaalist standards. She had witnessed and survived the absolutely brutal murder of her entire family as a child and then, in a freak twist of fate, the murder of her husband and child as an adult. This made her believe that she was specifically chosen by the god of murder and got WAY into it. She kept getting virgin mary style visions and whatnot telling her what to do in order to carry Bhaal’s perfect spawn. She did this is secret from the rest of the cult, both on Bhaal’s instructions and because “they just wouldn’t understand”. When it was time, she traveled alone to the Boareskyr Bridge (where Bhaal’s mortal form had been killed during the Time of Troubles) and drank from the cursed water there, which triggered “labor”. And by labor I mean “baby Ferox becoming a partial slayer baby and clawing his way out of her stomach”. I haven’t decided if it’s more brutal is she’s alive when it happens or if the water outright kills her and then baby Ferox has to crawl out of her corpse. Regardless, the next step is a bunch of goblins stumbling across this random blood covered orc baby sitting inside of a mangled corpse and going “DUUUUUDE THIS BABY FUCKING ROCKS! DIBS!”

7.) What were durge’s and Gortash’s first words towards each other (Be as vague as you want)

Hmmm hard to say. I’m sorry to say I don’t think I have anything specific here. For both of them, I imagine their first meeting was arranged by Gortash in order to discuss the details of the House of Wonders heist and formalize an alliance. In which case, both sides would have been “playing nice”. Gortash would have been outwardly schmoozing and trying to simultaneously flatter, intimidate, and impress his potential ally. Greeting them very graciously and respectfully with one of durge’s more formal epithets like “scion of Bhaal”, offering them a drink, that kind of stuff.

Briar went into the meeting essentially expecting to mentally flip a coin as to whether or not she would kill him, spent the entire time grinning like a cheshire cat while they tried to talk circles around each other. Decided he was fun enough to play with to hold off on killing him immediately. Seductively threatened to kill him at least once. Her first words upon entering the room probably would have been something teasing, like “well well, so this is the little lording himself” or something like that.

Ferox was very much a wall of stone at first. Went in very practically, like “Fine. You have something to offer me? Make your offer.” There would have still been some of that back and forth between them, with Gortash doing a lot of double talk and Ferox being careful and sparing with his choice of words. Unlike Briar, Ferox wouldn’t be trying to out maneuver Gortash but more trying to keep himself from getting played. He has to make sure this deal is actually good enough to be worth not just killing him, which is 100% what the plan would have been if Gortash had failed to convince him.

The vibes are that Briar and Gortash’s rapport was tennis and Ferox and Gortash was chess. It’s not a perfect analogy but I'm going with it.

I really want their initial meetings to be more distinct and have more intrigue and scheming and mind games and stuff like that involved but I am honestly super bad at thinking of that type of stuff. 😭 Maybe someday I’ll be inspired for a more specific scenario.

8.) What were their last words towards each other? And who really got the final say?

I’m not sure if this means last words pre-tadpole or last words overall, but I’m gonna answer the former because I have more specifically planned.

Briar: “I have to go.” Gortash: “Wait where the fuck are you-”

Okay the scene I have in mind is that they are literally in the middle of a typical evening of gettin’ down nasty when Briar has the urge to kill him. Which she has obviously had before. Aaaaaall the time. She’s gotten used to ignoring them because the plan is more important. But this one is different. This time she feels the urge and then has a thought like “I don’t *want* to do that”. Not “I won’t do that *yet*”. Not “killing him would be awesome but would cause a bunch of headaches I don’t want to deal with”. Straight up like... “If I killed him I think I would feel sad about it.” And she reacts like she just touched a hot stove. NOPE. THAT’S NOT RIGHT. THAT’S FUCKED UP WE’RE NOT GONNA DEAL WITH THAT. And so she just stops everything and leaves RIGHT THEN without another word. Goes to have an existential crisis about this, writes that prayer for forgiveness, gets decked by Orin, you know the rest.

For Ferox and Gortash, their final words before Ferox got tadpoled would have been something far more mundane. Just a simple reiteration of the plan and a goodbye before Ferox went off to take care of some business ahead of him at Moonrise. A simple “see you three days” kinda thing. Between Ferox and Gortash at that point, everything was running smoothly. Their relationship had been “established” and most of the drama of it passed -- Ferox had stopped doing the “no you have to stay away for your own good” stuff and resigned to the fact that “well this is gonna end really really badly but so is everything. Nothing matters and i can’t stay away from you”. Between winning that battle AND the recent overwhelming success of the Hell Heist and the progress of the Absolute plot, Gortash was absolutely riding that high and feeling completely invincible. From his perspective they just had to coast to the finish line.

The real conflict here was between Ferox and Orin. Orin was beginning to needle Ferox a bit more about the progress of the plan and how close Ferox was with Gortash and how it seemed like he was taking *orders* and Ferox was getting progressively more fed up with her. He was sort of swimming with guilt about the fact that he was actively planning to murder the entire world and didn’t want to think about anything. He just wanted to disassociate himself and follow through with the plan without thinking too hard about where it was leading. But every time Orin prodded him about Gortash he was forced to think about it again and real angry about it. Not a strict, flat anger like from a boss but a sharp, personal anger. He snapped at her with a reprimand, a threat, and maybe even a phsyical attack that, while maybe hard to see from the outside, felt like it fell outside of the purview of what was acceptable to her. Like, as the Bhaalist leader he had scolded her before, threatened her before, fought her before, but this was *different* and both of them knew it.  It was the moment it became personal and Orin knew that her bloodkin was lost.

Uuuuuuuh this answer got away from me. Tldr: Ferox and Gortash made plans to meet up at Moonrise to continue preparations for the Absolute, said a casual, mundane, and practical goodbye. They did not meet up.

[tarotmantic]

ages ago i remember seeing an orientation prefix that like basically meant ur orientation was influenced by neurodivergency which I definitely feel fits me. I don’t remember the term but yeah, i believe my autism informs my aromanticism (it probably also informs my asexuality and my gender identity but that’s not for this post).

I consider myself on the cusp of loveless, i feel very allied with that community and generally see my experience reflected most there. I’m very solidly on the end of the aro spectrum, I’m not even remotely grey-aro. Never experienced anything I could label as traditionally romantic lol. I often say I love my friends but that’s mostly for ease of communication. I care for them, and I care for many other things- but love? I don’t know. I don’t consider myself aplatonic though.

This is kind of where I see myself in the loveless community because I’ve read people talk about the rejection of the idea of love, and all the baggage attached to it. You can say “oh there’s other kinds of love, love isn’t just romantic” all you want but you can’t deny all the connotations it has within ~society~. Even if I could “love” my friends, because I fundamentally miss out on the experience of romantic love- an experience so entrenched in society and the popular conception of humanity- I feel disconnected from the entire notion. Love doesn’t mean anything to me.

On a minor tangent, this is definitely why I like narratives that twist love, that make love the villain. A lot of the poetry I write takes love and write it like obsession. I like playing with it, because I don’t have any sentimental value on true love, because I don’t know what it’s like to love but I know what it’s like to hurt.

I don’t have any aromantic friends, and I haven’t really talked about it to the friends I do have. I think about discussing is with them but I have no clue how to raise that lol. I kinda wanna know what they think about it, if they have any questions. Especially since they’re starting to get into relationships now.

I am out to my friends, but I’m not out in any capacity to my parents. I don’t think they’d be against it, they’d most likely be supportive but they also definitely wouldn’t get it. I don’t have the energy to explain it to them. I don’t know if they’ll ever ask, especially since I’ve never had a partner. Do they think im just hiding it from them? Who knows.

There’s a lot of things I’ll never experience, like first crushes or break ups or dating apps. Since im also asexual (also no grey, will never ever have sex in any capacity) I won’t ever experience those supposedly universal things like losing my virginity or even just like the feeling of being horny either lol. Whole swathes of the human experience that aren’t for me.

That’s where the grief creeps in, so many things I’ll never have. Ugh, I shouldn’t have to mourn things I never wanted. That’s where voidpunk comes in. I know the creator originally made it for aroallo folks, but also left it open for anyone who felt it fit. The nonhuman thing is very attractive to me with being very queer and very autistic. Especially since my identities are kind of all the absence of something.. void feels very apt.

Anyways.. this was a long post, I enjoyed rambling on though. I don’t put my thoughts about this to metaphorical paper often, but it’s always rattling around my head. If anyone else wants to chime in im all ears! As I said, I don’t really have anyone with similar experiences to talk about this with so im always willing to hear what the community is thinking.

[baeddel]

because i'm playing Bloodborne i can't just write down my thoughts on my computer without getting up to change the HDMI cable around, so i've been taking notes on paper. like a neanderthal. so far my page goes like this:

Flaubert—St. Anthony—'who sees' cannot be St. Anthony in Neb.'s city—but Anthony is 'focalizing' still?

Bloodborne—Gilbert—we misremembered—thinks he can 'die human', already sick—seems important lost use of legs! the scourge!

Symbols—repeating in a bicameral way, w/out knowing their importance—of flowers, virgins cf. Uzumaki

to expand in order:

Gerard Genette proposes the concept of 'focalization' to deal with the fact that 'who speaks?' and 'who sees?' is often different, in a way that isn't captured by the term 'point of view.' basically, we can see through the eyes of a particular character within the story even when they aren't narrating in first person; we understand that the narrator is still conveying their interpretation.

well, throughout Flaubert's Temptation of St. Anthony we are obviously getting St. Anthony's interpretation. in fact, most of the time St. Anthony is also the one speaking. when he isn't speaking we get a lot of explicit descriptions of his reactions to the things just described.

Then many things appear which he has never seen before—black hashes, jellies, the color of gold, ragouts in which mushrooms float like nenuphars upon ponds, dishes of whipt cream light as clouds.

And the aroma of all this comes to him together with the salt smell of the ocean, the coolness of mountains, the great perfumes of the woods. He dilates his nostrils to their fullest extent; his mouth waters; he thinks to himself that he has enough before him for a year, for ten years, for his whole life!

this keeps going as he passed through temptations which strain ordinary perception:

He beholds at one glance, the two ports (the Great Port and the Eunostus), both round as circuses

later there is a long sequence where St. Anthony wanders through a enormous palace belonging to Nebuchadnezzar and encounters fabulously gory scenes:

On the pavement below crawl the captive kings whose hands and feet have been cut off; from time to time he flings them bones to gnaw. Further off sit his brothers, with bandages across their eyes, being all blind.

eventually this elevates to descriptions of the entire city, the entirety of which St. Anthony cannot possibly be the observer:

From the depths of the ergastula arise moans of ceaseless pain. Sweet slow sounds of a hydraulic organ alternate with choruses of song; and one feels that all about the palace without extends an immeasurable city—an ocean of human life whose waves break against the walls.

actually, it occurs to me that Flaubert—or is it Lafcadio Hearn, the translator?—does insure against this boiling over of the perspective, confining the description to what 'one feels' would be true about the entire palace, as though you could guess something like that. later on, the return to St. Anthony's person is called out to help us stick the landing:

Anthony, from afar off, reads all these thoughts upon his brow.

i have nothing to say about it really, just an interesting use of narration.

on the second point, a minor correction to my big post; the player is actually misled about what illness Gilbert has. Gilbert does have the beast plague—we know that because he turns into a beast later. but he explicitly says he doesn't have it: "I can even die human." he says this because he believes that "their [Yharnam's] blood bought me time." he obviously came to Yharnam to seek blood healing from the Healing Church for whatever illness he had, and he thinks it worked. it didn't work; it gave him the scourge and its about to kill him just like it did everyone else in Yharnam. on the second playthrough we can understand the tragic irony in this line of Gilbert's, which on the first playthrough is a red herring.

Gilbert is the only character with a cough that i can remember, so that's probably his original illness. tuberculosis, why not? his other symptoms are side effects of the Healing Church's blood ministration, i believe. he can no longer use his legs. he blames his TB for this, as if to say 'thats how bad it's gotten now', but this is a widespread problem in Yharnam and appears to be an iatrogenic effect of blood ministration.

Gilbert's misunderstanding of his own condition reminds me a lot of Terrare. when Terrare was dying he got in touch with his old doctor and confessed to him that once upon a time, a long time ago, he swallowed a little golden spoon, and he believed that it was now stuck in his intestine and was killing him. it only made sense to him that he would die because of something unusual he ate, since his unusual eating defined his life so much. when they performed an autopsy on him they did indeed find the little golden spoon he talked about. but that's not why he died—he died of TB, like everyone else.

on the last point, there are repeating motifs in Bloodborne. some of these are: small white flowers, blind or veiled female figures, the spade (as in playing cards), perforation. there are lots more than that. these reoccur all over the place: statues, gravestones, architecture, the design on the reverse side of a wheelchair, and so forth. they also have cosmological importance; kin grow out of small white flowers ('lumenflowers') and flowers also have some relationship with the Great One named Flora, blindness is generally important in Bloodborne, from scourge symptoms (bandaged eyes) to blindness or blindfolding promoting higher forms of knowledge (Byrgenworth & the Choir both use it), and women are obviously important to Great Ones for their fecundity. the Spade i don't totally understand, but it represents Communion in the Choir cosmology. finally, perforation is seen on the Amygdala head and on some important otherworldly objects.

regular Yharnamites producing secular textiles cannot possibly know all that stuff, since not even all factions within the Healing Church know about all of it. further, we encounter them with as much frequency in the Chalice Dungeons (ruins of 'classical' civilizations). the implication, to my mind, is that these symbols work a bit like Oedon, expressing themselves through the creative activities of mortals who are ignorant of their origin and significance. they repeat the lexemes of the cosmic language over and over, never learning their true meaning. that's why it reminded me of Uzumaki—people start to, for example, make spiral-patterned pottery, ignorant of their role in the cosmic drama of The Spiral and its will.

it occurs to me that this implies a concurrentist or at least occasionalist theory of causation. Mr. Saito makes spiral pottery because he liked them, but Mr. Saito was also wholly and entirely making spiral pottery because The Spiral willed it. this is how many medieval Christians understood the relationship between God and Nature. i wonder if it has a parallel in Japanese thought?

[astudyincontrasts]

i’m sorry if this doesnt interest you but I love your writing so I thought to make a request… reader x viktor as 17-18 yr olds… losing their virginity to one another?? horny and wholesome.. hehe

Hey anon! First off, thank you so much, I’m so pleased you like my work 🖤

It’s not that your prompt/request doesn’t interest me, because it’s a very cute idea indeed. I’m not comfortable writing sex under age 18 (I’m barely comfortable writing sex under age 21). Part of this is out of respect for the fact that I’m an 18+ blog and it feels both a little icky of me to put teenage characters in a sexually explicit situation for adults to ogle while simultaneously telling a teen audience they are unwelcome. I may be old as dirt but boy do I remember being a super fuckin horny teen. I think teenagers should have their own horny spaces to be horny teenagers in. Ones that don’t include adults like myself.

I also have some issues with virginity prompts or motifs. The Baron’s Daughter is the first fic I’ve written that explicitly deals with a virgin reader and if I’m being honest it’s only that way because it’s a period piece that pretty much required it. I have gotten A LOT of virgin requests from every different angle and if I’m being real with you? It’s got me a little concerned. Virginity is a construct that’s been used as a weapon and tool of repression for so long. It’s imaginary value and worth overinflated and used to degrade or shame. Women and men don’t get equal footing in how we are treated over it, and what qualifies as ‘losing’ it is often very cisgendered and heteronormative in its interpretation. And it’s not only that I don’t like to celebrate something as questionably repressive as the concept of virginity, but I don’t like to contribute to the fairytale that your first time is or should be something spectacular. Most people have a pretty messy/confusing/unsexy/awkward first time and then feel badly about their choices because it didn’t go the way media led them to believe it would. And hey, some people have a great first time and high fives all around for them. It’s just not usually the case.

Will I write more virgin trope things? Possibly. Because it’s part of the human condition. I’m just not sure I’ll be tackling any fics where that’s the central conceit at the moment. I’ve got a full roster of fics I’m working on right now, so even if I did feel comfortable with it I sadly don’t have the time. I appreciate you asking though, and appreciate you reading my stuff, and giving me the opportunity to talk about this a little. Thank you nonny 🖤

[secondwhisper]

Some thoughts on Cultural Christianity; things I don't often see discussed.

To note upfront: I have lived my whole life surrounded by (English-speaking white) Midwestern US Protestantism. Some of these points will be addressing religious/cultural hegemony broadly, most should address manifestations of cultural & hegemonic christianity in particular, and some may be specific to the flavor of christianity local to me.

Funerary practices // Is it normal procedure to have a memorial event with viewing, songs, and speeches after someone has died? Is it normal procedure to have the interment of an embalmed body, in a coffin, in a graveyard? Is it normal to have little or no private/personal mourning practices (eg no changes in dress, socializing, meals, housekeeping), even for close family? Is it normal to have little or no standard practices for anniversaries of a death, even for close family? // Is it illegal in your area to bury an unenbalmed corpse in the earth? Is it illegal in your area to have sky or sea burials? Is it illegal in your area to create a funeral pyre? Is it illegal in your area to cremate a corpse in a crematorium? If no, have these practices always been legal? Are they normal? // What funerary practices followed the death of your grandparents? What funerary practices will follow your death? Would each of these be considered acceptable to your friends, family, and broader community? Are each of these considered normal?

What religion is // Is it normal for "religious" to mean "believing in (the existence of) a deity"? Is it normal for a religious person to venerate one god, which is probably an anthropomorphic personal male creator god? Is it normal for prayer to just be a way to say "please" and "thank you" to that god? Is it normal for a religious person to want to increase the number of people in their religion? Is it normal for a religious person to think that there is only one "correct" or "true" religion (or subtype thereof)? Is it normal for a religious person to be awaiting a messiah/savior? Is it normal for a religion to have a specific canonical "core set" of written teachings/scriptures? Is it normal for religious teachings/scriptures to present themselves as god-given literally-true recountings of history -- and be considered such by members of that religion? What is the legal definition of "religion" or "religious" in your area? // Did your grandparents identify with any religion? Would you, your family, friends, and broader community describe your grandparents as religious? Do you identify with any religion? Do you consider yourself to be religious? (Are these the same question to you?) Do your family, friends, and/or broader community consider you religious, even if you don't see yourself that way?

Literature & language // Are you familiar with phrases such as "o ye of little faith," "(am I) my brother's keeper?," "fire and brimstone," "doubting Thomas," "an eye for an eye," "man does not live on bread alone," "prodigal son," and "the writing is on the wall"? Did you encounter these phrases from friends and family, before or outside of encountering them in popular media or school? Did your schooling emphasize Greek and Roman/Latin foundations of language and/or literature, maybe even to the extent that it obscured/marginalized/erased other sources and influences? In literature classes, were you expected to understand references to heaven and hell, crucifixion and resurrection, virgin birth, a trickster devil, an innocent walled garden and fruit that transmits knowledge/evil, witch trials, walking on water, crusades, anointing, baptizing, and the general concept of a savior/messiah? Do you use these references and themes when/if you write? Are "goliath," "nimrod," "Jesus (Christ)!" as a profanity, "bedlam," and "pharisee/pharisaical" in your vocabulary? Would you expect that your grandparents' answers to these questions would be the same as yours?

These questions are intended to help you identify whether, and to what extent, your culture & the culture around you are consistent with (US protestant) christian culture. This isn't an exhaustive list, these are just three big topics I think people usually leave out of cultural christianity discussions.

Do note: I am not saying that if you aren't christian, you need to change your end-of-life plans, abandon your literary tradition, limit your vocabulary, and get a degree in religious studies/world religions. I am also not saying that every norm above is unique or exclusive to christianity, nor are all of these norms present in all varieties of christianity. I am not saying that it's bad to be religiously christian or culturally christian! I am saying that many people are unaware of the legal, social, and academic advantages they gain for every degree of similarity with their local religious/cultural hegemony. And I am saying that you should consider the ways in which you may be privileged on this axis, whether or not you are religiously christian.

[milkissblog]

hey everybody!!

thats a weird ass way to start a diary entry. i can't have a diary because my mom is a little invasive and will for sure read it. theres also this weird little clown pop up on my screen? anyway.

id love love loveee love lvoe more than anything to have a diary. i could paste my little doodles in it like flower petals. and put all of my stickers and pretty slices of papers inside. theres a dog squeaking outside. i don't think dogs should be making that noise. i hope the little guy is ok.

anyway, that was so very off topic. what i was trying to say is that this little blag of mine is sposed to be my surrogate diary. i have this issue online (and even in writing) where i over-perceive myself ("perceive" is a pretty-sounding word. so is sieve.) and my online presence bc its so customizable and because im so disconnected from my sense of self. im a people pleaser even when im writing in a private little diary cause im always thinking, my mom is going to read it, how will this sound to my mom when she reads it, oh god my mom, my mom, my mom (and, to a lesser extent, other people). i hate it. i feel prickled and trapped and smothered sometimes, but dear god i love my mom more than anything. but still, sometimes i feel like im in 1984 and shes reading my thoughts as well as my texts before i can delete them. but also, she pays for me to exist -its a mixed bag with high highs and low lows.

im really hoping that the self-perception thing doesn't happen this time. i hope i can have a better self-concept and be a better person. ive wasted maybe 2 years (i don't want to say that ☹︎) on being rock bottom unhappy, on being filled with hatred for myself, on dreading my own body and face, on corroding and ruminating for too long, until i found myself incapable of loving and v isolated feeling. its an awful way to exist because you deny yourself and other people so much beauty, and because it hampers your ability to really love and be there for other people. i wanna talk about that more (and i spose i can here)

-partially my sadness was/is cause im lesbian and m being raised catholic. ive got a lot of issues to work thorugh hahahaha. or, should i say, teeheeheehee. (LEGALIZE SAYING TEEHEEHEE!!! PEOPLE R SO MEAN AND THEY SPIT ON ME WHEN I WRITE "TEEHEEHEE" INSTEAD OF HAHAHA)

dear god this is very stream of consciousness. well, anyway. i'm not writing it to be read (or at least trying NOT to write it to be read). im writing it to communicate with myself. thats not working very well, i just read through the whole thing again.

i hope this gives me a sense of purity (not like weird sex/virginity stuff, but mental purity, like pure love or pure salt or pure vinegar, with no issues, just clear and soft and good) and of self, like prayer. id probably believe in god without the church and them being mean to lesbians and girls and non catholics and so many other ppl and whatnot bc i love to think that love inhabits everything and i sincerely deeply in my little heart of hearts think it does. i think i might believe in god??? i don't know. i am trying my best pookies.

im a girlblogger cause im a girl!! also im sincerely really trying to be okay and happy. and maybe be buddhist? i got this lovely slim little book by a buddhist monk thich nhat hanh called "true love" and i want that. i want to be a good kind person to myself and everybody else. as karissa love (she is my comfort youtuber and i adore her v much) puts it, i want to radiate love. that sounds a little crazy but perchance i am a little crazy.

perchance.

also, darn it, i cursed. ive decided im sposed to not curse, so that when i do people are very shocked like "wow omg she said f*ck??? she never says f*ck!!!" and think its a big deal and everything. i could also swear tons so ppl think im tough, but i don't want to scare anynody and i curse like a toddler bc im so out of practice. oh well.

anyway thats the first entry! hello world!! i hope im ok and that this helps me.

mwah

[rubydracogirl]

oh no💘 that totally answered my question! the mind body and soul thing is something i hadn't noticed, but it feels very endearing and i feel as if i understand them on a deeper wavelength! i appreciate the fact you divert from canon, because while having a perfect replica is definitely an achievement- small differences are a sure requirement to allure readers, and make your story pop! the readers being the heart is a very flattering concept and you can definitely see the display of this lovely dynamic in the "stars in your eyes" fanfic! if it wouldn't irritate you, i'd love to hear all of your headcanons, even the small ones!! if they're hidden in chapters or yet to be shown i would love to hear what you have to say 💗💗💗

Omg. Oh boy. Hell yeah I wanna talk about more of my headcanons! Idk if I can list all of them but I'll see what I can do!

This is probably gonna get long, so I'll list the things below the cut! Also, if there's any specific headcanons you wanna ask that I might miss, please feel free!

Alright, let me see if I can do this in some kind of organized way.

I'll start with Ink!

I know Ink's canon height is like, below 4ft. but I usually prefer to write tall/bara Sanses, so he's a solid 6 ft (All other Sanses in my works would still be taller than him, lmao). I just like them big sksksks don't question it

He eats weird stuff and gross combinations of food. Which, considering that he drinks paint (emotions) isn't too unique of a headcanon.

Even though Ink can't feel emotions, I headcanon that he does feel sensations. He can feel both pain and pleasure, and extreme sensations can be very addicting to him. Hence why he can be so thoughtless about consequences, towards himself and others.

Ink is not a virgin, but I won't go into it any more than that.

🤭Alright now let's do Dream!

Dream's height fluctuates depending on how much positive energy he's got stored/is surrounded by. Typically, I picture him to be 6.2

Speaking of positive energy, I like the idea that he collects energy in bottles and keeps them on his belt. He'll ingest the energy directly in dire times, but also uses his reserves to boost others.

Dream is a shapeshifter and an illusionist. He can change the perception others have of him according to who they most want to see. This ability is especially strong in the dreamscape. (I like to write him with tentacles like Nightmare. It's not a form of corruption, more like an overflow of his magic)

Dream's ultimate purpose in the multiverse is to regulate and monitor the hopes and dreams of others. He has no intention of stopping or destroying Nightmare because he believes the both of them are necessary forces for the multiverse to exist. However, he will fight when Nightmare becomes greedy for more power.

And now Swap!

Swap (and most of the other AU sanses I write) is 6.4. He's also very athletic- pretty much a jock.

Swap learns to travel the multiverse from Ink. It takes a lot of energy, but he's fairly adept at it.

I've never really gathered a headcanon for why Swap becomes friends with Ink and Dream. I think most likely, Ink and Dream chose him as a third companion/ally based off his energy and abilities.

Swap becomes more stoic during his adventures with Ink and Dream. He never loses his hope, but he does become more quiet as he sees the darker parts of the multiverse. He does act as a grounding presence for the two immortals, and in turn, they train him to become a stronger, more efficient magic user.

That's all I can think of right now. There's a post where I talked about my headcanon voices for the Star Bois, which is right here.

If there's any other questions or more specific things you wanna ask about, let me know! And if you have any headcanons you wanna share, I'd love to hear them!

[adultswim2021]

Xavier: Renegade Angel #4: “The 6th Teat of Good Intentions” | November 26, 2007 - 12:00AM | S01E04

I saw a virgin/chad meme recently that compared the virgin Rick from Rick & Morty to the Chad Xavier from Xavier and Morty. It really do be like that. This show is effortlessly deeper and weirder and more nihilistic than Rick & Morty ever was or will ever be. If Rick & Morty has any kind of edge over this show it’s that it has a more grounded, sitcommy tone. I guess if we’re competing over who could write the most sincere Office spec script, I’d have to give it to the Rick & Morty staff. 

In this episode, Xavier finds 7 “abandoned” babies in a park. He takes them so he can nobley care for them, even though the mother is mere feet away and just has her back turned. His oblivious nature causes him to not put two-and-him together when he runs into her later and decides to help her find her missing babies. Also, the babies are systematically devoured by Xavier’s snake arm, who is sentient in this episode. The mom succumbs to severe PTSD made only worse by having her lone non-kidnapped child be devoured by police bloodhounds in front of her.

The concept of watching a woman’s sanity degrade after witnessing the death of her children is pretty dark, objectively speaking. But the animation is so terrible, and the tone is so expressive, it keeps you at a safe distance from the despair of it all. I think Xavier strives to present itself as more of a thought exercise than it does a work of fiction you’re supposed to immerse yourself in. It’s designed this way so the show can take you down paths like this. The fact that she has a litter of babies, like animals tend to, only to have them all get eaten by other animals, like animals also tend to, seems meaningful in some way. 

The end of the episode has Xavier transforming into some kind of ethereal totem for all children. He scolds the distraught mother for looking for her missing children “and search for the child within”. Is this a comment on the then-burgeoning generation of people who never quite left childhood, causing our current culture of “bad brown horse shit”? Could it be? Because boy, that’s how that line feels now in 2023. I need to remind you: me = almost 40 and blogging about old cartoons.

There are a lot of very funny and good jokes in this, and I don’t like mindlessly repeating the good jokes in a thing. So I will leave it at that. There’s some good jokes in this thing.

MAIL BAG

do you really believe this? a sexually active woman?

They stopped making those since Hillary lost >_<;;

i know this is an adult swim blog and i really appreciate the writeups but the poo story was a little too nasty for me

I was proud of that, and you’re being a hater.

[tuiyla]

speaking of Quinn and religion, one thing that's always baffled me is that I do think S1 wants to set up the black comedy of the "Queen of the Chastity Ball" getting knocked up, and it's supposed to be a whole commentary on celibacy, religious hypocrisy, etc. But I've never fully understood why they didn't truly lean into that? Because what the rest of Quinn's arc through S3 shows us is that honestly she's NOT a hypocrite about this. She believed in waiting. She was sincere in her faith. Her big slip-up was super dubious and a one time thing. For how much we've been told we were meant to hate Quinn in S1, I wonder why RIB didn't have her sleeping with the entire football team except Finn, having her play the nice girl around her parents then being knowingly cynical about using her religion as a disguise. It would still even work to contrast her with Santana, one being unapologetically sexual, the other hanging onto her pristine rep while doing the exact same things privately. It would've been such an easy way to make sure the audience sees her as the villain and tbh, might have better fit the dark humor of S1. That they didn't go that path is more proof to me that RM was ALWAYS writing Quinn as an empathetic character, even if he wasn't aware of it.

Alright alright, not gonna put off answering this because it's an amazing topic I wanna keep discussing or as long as y'all have thoughts.

Completely agree, they never lean into it. Not nearly as much as this ostensibly satire show should have. I often think about that, the deliberate irony of framing Quinn as ultra-religious and having her be the president of a damn Celibacy Club just to have her get knocked up. After having sex once, too. A better show would have a) leaned in and b) examined how society treats those who cross the madonna-whore threshold. Even in terms of the cheerleading stereotypes that the Unholy Trinity all check, it's ultimately Quinn who gets portrayed as a whore because she's the one with "evidence" that she's had sex. Brittana are much, much more promiscuous, yeah, but there's something about teen pregnancy as the ultimate symbol of sexual transgression. But, like you say, Quinn wasn't actually a hypocrite about all this.

I think she was also scarred from the pregnancy emotionally, understandably, but the only times she uses her sexuality after this in high school are when she's clearly unhinged. I.e. trying to make another baby with Puck. She wants to take things slow with Sam, completely understands Joe's perspective, and I for one seriously doubt Fuinn ever actually had sex. All that happened with Beth's conception was Puck taking advantage of her. But Glee season 1 just,,, does not get this. They so badly want Quinn to be this hypocritical bitch who cheats on her boyfriend and gets knocked up and isn't all that virginal after all. But even if we didn't see the actual scene, and oh boy do we, that narrative would still be dubious. Simply put, Quinn isn't the character Glee thinks they're writing.

I've said this so many times in so many ways but the bottom line remains the same. The writers did not know what kind of character they were writing. And there's a lot to be said about how RM reacted to that, goddammit I still haven't talked about that Rolling Stone interview, but at the end of the day we just have these facts within the show itself. And this is how I try to explain my frustrations with season 1 to people. Later seasons Quinn is a whole convo, too, but s1 always feels particularly insidious to me.

In terms of how you would have written it, yeah I think that would have worked better with what they were trying to do. There's still the contrast to Brittana so a chance for Quinn's redemption, but this villanizing would at least make more sense. She really would be a hypocrite and not just... a victim. But no, instead they wrote the story of a clear victim. I don't give a fuck if she happens to be rude to Finn and lie to him, yeah that's messed up but the dude is also actively cheating on her, so. Lest we feel too bad for him. It just sucks so much that RM was so, so unaware of the Quinn he was writing. Makes season 1 in particular incredibly frustrating to me, I can't believe there are people out there who consider this to be her best season. Why do you hate her so much?

[linseyswrld]

So who is Linsey?

(Trigger Warning: Suicide, Trauma, Rape, War) (I usually never write TW but I feel I should be more respectful if I am going to be constantly here)

It is a valid question for anyone who has found either this post or my blog in general. Not to be that person, but my background and experience are the keys to the whole The Idea concept. Although it is pretty damn obvious that “writer” equals their “story”.

People write about what they know the most. Even if they can’t even define it. And yes, I am the same, but I will try in this post. My knowledge is what I am. So as my The Idea.

Here are the things I consider myself to know enough about:

My hometown, Kyiv, Ukraine How beautiful it is and how it doesn’t look like any other town in Alberta or BC. How green it is. How blooming it is. How charming it is. How yet mine it is. I can go and on I swear.

My childhood Firstly I wanted to say "only those years before I turned 10" or "before 2014 when Crimea was annexed and the actual war started", but regardless I remember years of growing up in my city. They were ordinary, simpler than the times of my young adulthood.

How hard I worked to get to Canada Unless like a lot of Ukrainians, I chose to go to Canada, not because of the necessity of peace. I came here because it was my dream. Yes, I loved my country and the city, but it was never enough. I wanted to see the world, I wanted to know more. My hometown felt like a cage. And people there somehow reminded me about my past misery. I believe I wanted to escape all of that and learn about the world. Both of those reasons made me work so hard to get out.

How I tried to kill myself two times :) With "working hard" came a lot of doubts and pain. Not only before I moved to Canada, but after too. My first try was at the age of 16 years when I was in my final grade. First love, my inability to achieve desirable grades (specifically in English as I wanted to go to Canada really badly), the amount of pressure I had from my family and school, and yet I couldn't achieve my goal no matter how hard I was trying. The whole world felt like falling apart. But I am proud of myself and how strong I was (look at me now, I am desperate to write a book in English). Then next year COVID hit and I, unlike other people, was genuinely happy to just be at home. The first semester of the 11th grade was hell. Then I got a chance to recover. But the second try was more serious in the meaning of damage and more difficult to understand the reasons. It has been more than a year and a half so far. It happened when I was 19, in Canada, right before my life had become better. Right before everything was fixed and I was blessed with the best thing that ever happened in my life. But about this further in the post. At that point in life, I had lived in Canada for a year and a half. To this day I still can not define a certain reason why. I would say there were reasons, but even naming them can't really explain all my feelings. I was disappointed in my dream, in my family here, in my friends as I was betrayed, in the world as there was a war in my homeland and I could not do anything about it, in my love life as I lost my virginity via pressure from people around me and my partner at that time. Only studying in college helped me and yet the ghosts of the past and the demons of the present were ruining the only good thing for me. I remember how I woke up in the morning after I almost killed myself. I saw the most beautiful sunrise in my life. Like the nature wanted to show me how appreciated I am here. (when I was writing this part of the blog, I started crying)

My boyfriend I know it is weird making a person your savior, but he is. And everything about him feels special. We met a month after I tried to kill myself. And even the way we met was something I would have never imagined. Everything he brought into my life I am forever grateful for. How this foreign place started to feel like home. His character is something worth living for. Maybe there is a better word in English to describe his existence than "character". I know, I know, sounds like I am obsessed with a man, but I am so grateful for understanding what real love means. Calm love. And yes, we are both young. But I am tired of hearing from people "he is still a boy". Well, I am still a girl. And I do not want to rush him or me into turning into being adults. I always wanted to meet the most imperfect or vulnerable version of my partner to be there with him trough time and see him changing and evolving. We have been together for a year and a half and I love every version of him that I have seen so far.

And with that being said, I want to cover most of these points in my story. These are the things I know the most about and I want to tell people what I know. I have my own pov on love, life, going through tough times, loneliness, and how hard it is to be actually different in a place where everything is okay (war-wise).

The whole point of a story is Hope, as I never let it go and was rewarded for that. And you can be too. I promise

[dorefasolsido]

40.

Do you ever wonder how Atheist people raise their kids?

I mean, just normal? I was raised by an atheist and an agnostic, I guess the only difference is that they never really taught me about religion whatsoever, so when I was asked in school which faith I identify with, I had no idea what to say. But they never told me I can't read the Bible if I wanted to (only read part of the kids' one tho), and we still celebrated Christmas and Easter like everyone else. Tbh, hearing about some people's experiences with growing up in religious households, I'm glad mine wasn't like that.

If you’re atheist, would you raise you kids believing in God or not?

I'm more of an agnostic, but if I ever had kids (which I don't want to), I'd raise them like my parents raised me. They can explore on their own, I can answer some questions, and that's it. I won't push anything onto them, especially not something I don't really believe in either.

How long does it usually take you to finish answering a survey?

Depends, I'm done with some in ten minutes, others in half an hour or more.

Do you spell it gray or grey?

Usually grey, but depends if I'm using American or British spelling.

If you make surveys, how do you decide about its title?

I don't.

When are you going back to school?

I'm done with school.

If you don’t go to school anymore, what do you do?

I work, attend German classes, deal with the crushing reality of everyday existence. As everyone else.

Do you care about other people’s status messages?

Hmmm where? I can only check those now on WhatsApp, and yes, I do that. I'm too nosey not to.

Do you like reading self help books?

Nah, it's just not for me.

What is your opinion on sex change?

Those who want it should go for it, I'm glad such options exist for trans people.

Do you think that this will take away the essence of gay pride?

I have no clue what this means, tbh, but the answer is probably no.

What do you do when you tell a really bad joke?

I laugh at myself and give myself a highfive while others all sigh and groan.

If you’re still a virgin, how important is your virginity to you?

It's not important and I think the whole concept and discussion around it is stupid. Like, I'd just get rid of that whole idea entirely. It seriously fucked with my head when a gynecologist reacted like I'm some mythical creature just because I'm over 20 and have never had sex with a man. I'm still dealing with that shame sometimes, and I'm not even attracted to men like that.

If you have lost it already, do you regret it?

As I said, it doesn't mean anything to me, so no, I wouldn't regret it. But tbh, I can't see myself in that situation, being ace and all.

Do you believe in marriage? Why or why not?

Well I mean sure, but I don't personally see that much of a point. I guess there are financial benefits and so on, but ehhh, I don't know.

Do you like having a huge group of friends or would you rather have few close friends?

A few close friends.

Do you have any goals for this summer? If so, what are they?

Summer is far away, but I'd like to travel somewhere, I guess.

Or do you plan on getting a summer job? Or do you already have one?

I have a job--not just a summer one.

If so, where do you work and what do you do?

Content writing and translating.

Do you watch the TV Show Skins? If so, who’s your favorite character?

I don't.

And which generation do you prefer? Or do you equally love both?

Refer to the above.

Do you know someone who still typpe thiszz wayy?

Has anyone ever typed that way?

Would you take a break after graduating from high school (like, postpone going to college for a year or so)?

Well I didn't--it's not exactly a common thing to do here, but I think it's not bad. Like, if you can afford it, why not travel a bit before college?

Do you feel tired after stretching?

Not normally.

Can you get a strike at bowling?

I did a few times. Beginner's luck!

Do you use Facebook? If so, what is your favorite application there?

I don't use it anymore.

It seems like everyone’s addicted to Twitter these days - are you?

Nope. I'm barely ever on there.