#Are their chunks missing from this explanation that would

[never-quite-buried]

One of the hardest things about growing up is navigating adulthood dynamics to my immediate family.

Like Im mending my relationship with my dad, a relationship which is good as dead for my siblings, however while he was actively abusive to my brother, his step son, my brother is still more willing to interact with him than our shared mother, who he has been No Contact with for about 14 years now.

Meanwhile I have an actively positive relationship with my mom while my sister is at the point of sorting retirement homes by rating: lowest to highest.

At the same time i am personally still No Contact with my brother and have a super close relationship with my sister and she is super close with our brother.

And somehow all us siblings are able to manage these boundaries and limits in far healthier ways than our fore generation (my dad going on facebook spiels about being the black sheep of the family, mother not talking to siblings at all and only SM usage being links to external sources) and with more respect for each other’s situations. Like it’s HARD sometimes but i think at this point we know that the hard work is worth it. Im so grateful to be a sister to these two incredible people.

[wondernus]

— DAD OF THE YEAR

SYNOPSIS: seungcheol accidentally reveals he has a daughter on a first date and doesn't know how to tell you that his daughter is a dog

PAIRING: csc x reader

GENRE: fluff

TAGS: first dates, dog dad cheol

WC: 575

MESSAGE FROM NU: s/o to this seungcheol for making it out of the dating app conversation phase & making it work bc I did it once and it did not turn out like this

seungcheol doesn't know if he has the heart to tell you that it was all a misunderstanding that he accidentally took too far. several hours of conversations on a popular dating app about various niche topics that piqued both of your interests led the two of you to skip the basics. he didn't find out about your occupation until twenty minutes into the current date.

when you accidentally drop your phone on the sidewalk, he immediately bends over to pick it up for you. but one of kkuma's several hair clips from the last time he walked her falls out of his jacket pocket and slides a few centimeters away from his hand. by the time he slips it back into his pocket, you've already seen the pastel-hued flower clip.

you tilt your head at him while he hands you back your phone as if to ask him who that clip belongs to.

"my daughter" — the answer slips out of his mouth before he can correct himself. he's already so used to calling his dog his daughter that it feels right to address her in that way.

when he realizes his mistake, he's expecting a question from you asking for an explanation about the bomb that he just dropped. his correction forms on the tip of his tongue, but you're quick to beat him. and weirdly enough, you ask him about her clips and whether or not he does her hair every day.

the several pistons that churn his brain are all firing at once. there's a frenzy happening in his mind. are you going to ignore the fact that he said he has a daughter even though the daughter is technically a dog? would you think of him differently? he already knows about how you always look at city bike riders to see if they've adjusted their seats high enough, but he doesn't even know if you're a dog person.

yet he casually continues the conversation. he's been sucked into a black hole. he loves talking about her accessories and the different ways he dresses her up. she's his daughter. of course he's going to spoil her and dote on her all the time. he can't stop talking about her and embarrassingly spends a good chunk of the date talking about her.

he talks about how she's the smartest in her class, how she's a picky eater, and how she sleeps by his side. he thinks you're fully convinced that he has a human child at this point, but he doesn't know when exactly is a good time to casually drop the fact that he has been talking about a dog the whole time.

"do you have pictures of her?" you ask him. the question causes him to physically stop in his tracks.

"huh?" he dumbly asks in response.

"your dog right? I remember seeing a pic of her in your profile." you're smiling at him.

all of the little fires in his head extinguish. smoke rises from the top of his head. gosh, it feels so nice to know that there wasn't a miscommunication. you're a good listener and you pay attention to tiny details that even he might miss. he thinks you're cute, especially the way your eyes seem to smile more than your mouth. he blushes.

"yeah. lots of them." he grins while pulling out his phone from his pocket. "we can picnic with her next time."

"great. it's a date."

[baby-yongbok]

Ex

Boyfriend!Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

⇝ Genre: Angst then Smut then angst again. Dirty Drama.

⇝ Summary: We all have that one toxic person that we can’t let go of.

⇝ Warnings: Cheating , Arguing/Yelling, Dry Humping, Crying, Hyunjin is toxic - the manipulative type. (I think that's all, let me know if I missed anything!)

⇝ Word Count: 2.9k

⇝ A/N: I'm sorry in advance. I live for the drama, I'm so so sorry. My depresso has been prompting me to write angst and this is what I came up with today. It might be intense? I don't know honestly. All I know is that writing angst makes me happy lol + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy! Please don't hate me 💕

✧ Part II ✧ Masterlist ✧

It started with him forgetting coffee dates. The small chunks of time that the two of you carved out of your day to spend with each other quickly turned into bottled Starbucks drinks and ignored texts while you made your way to work. He said that it was because of his schedule and Hyunjin would never lie to you. 

Next were your nightly video calls. The two hours that you’d spend talking about your days and making future plans morphed into double and triple texting him until he replies with a lackluster night time send off and a declaration of love that you have no choice but to imagine leaving his lips. You haven’t heard from him in forever but it’s okay, you can fix this. 

You’re an artist, a digital artist for a living but a painter as a hobby. This trait is one of the many things that you and Hyunjin bonded over so when you proposed that the two of you do Paint and Sip dates on Friday nights he was all in. Everything was fine for a couple of weeks, you’d pick the picture and you’d both get to painting while you listen to your shared Spotify playlist. You’d talk and laugh while sipping whatever wine he brought with him, everything was finally feeling normal again but there was one thing that kept bothering you. 

His phone.

 It kept blowing up, vibrating, dinging and lighting up throughout the night. You’ve always understood that Hyunjin is a busy guy and his friends may need to reach him at odd hours of the night but there was something more to what you saw. He would ignore a message or two from Jeongin or even decline Chan’s calls from time to time but whenever his phone lit up with that damned flower icon he’d drop his brush like his life depended on it. 

You figured that as long as he’s here with you everything is fine. You never liked to micro manage and you're not the jealous type so snooping around wasn’t something that you were very into, until he canceled on you. Again. This is the third week that he’s said that something has come up and that he’ll be over at your place late. When you read his text you were already staring at his laptop wondering if it was really necessary to snoop through his cloud and read his texts. Surely he had a reasonable explanation for this right? Hyunjin would never lie to you. Right? You wanted to be right so badly and when you opened the computer, put in his password and clicked on the cloud you found out that you couldn’t be more wrong.

“What are you still doing up?” Hyunjin asked as he tiptoed into your bedroom. You were sitting at your desk with your phone in your hand, staring at your screen.

“How was your night?” You ask as you swipe on your phone, your eyes never leave the screen but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice.

“It was fine, got a lot done.” He turns towards your closet door but stops when he processes the mess around him. “Are these my clothes?”

“Yeah, you’re going to pack all of that along with whatever else you have around here and you’re going to leave.” He stares at you with pinched brows and then he takes in his scattered belongings again.

“What?” 

“You’re going to pack your shit.” You stand from your chair, glaring at him with narrow eyes. “And you’re going to go stay with her.”

You can practically hear him choke on his inhale once your words hit his ear. “Who are you talking about?”

“I can always make time for you just give me the date and the place.” You read from the screenshots illuminating your screen as you stalk towards him. “I hate when you ignore me, you know how much your attention means to me.”

“Stop it.” He turns to face you completely, watching you with worried eyes glazed with guilt.

“It doesn’t matter who I’m seeing, you know that you come first.” You project your voice so that it echoes off of every surface, he doesn’t get to avoid this. “Call me, I need to hear my baby.”

“How did you find those, you -” He sighs as you cut him off, practically yelling the next message.

“You left too many hickies to cover this time, I’ll return the favor on Friday.” 

“Enough of that, enough.” His tone tries to match yours but it fails, falling off into a pitiful whisper at the end. “You went through my computer?” 

He looks over at you with a cocktail of disbelief and disgust smeared over his features but you’re more than sure that the look on your face has got him beat. “ You’re fucking your ex.”

“It’s not like that, it's -” You cut him off, taking a wide step towards him.

“It’s not like that? You’re begging her for her time. You’re texting her every minute of every day. You’re fucking her and then coming here and fucking me, Hyunjin.”

“I know, okay I get that you’re mad, I’m sorry I just can’t let her go yet. It’s like there’s a piece of me that only she has possession of and no matter how much I try to ignore it I just can’t.” He runs his hands through his hair, his eyes taking in the way that your gaze cuts into him. 

“It’s been a year. I’ve been with you for an entire year. When did you have time to start this? How long have you been fucking her?” He shakes his head, turning towards the bedroom door to escape the situation in front of him. You follow hot on his trail, repeating your question. “How long?” You ask over and over until he finally snaps, yelling his answer in the middle of the living room.

“A couple of months, I don’t know five or six? Maybe even seven I don’t fucking know.” You scoff as rage floods through your veins and you pick up the nearest object and chuck it at him with all of the force you can muster. He dodges it easily but he doesn’t have as much luck with the remote that follows the path of the last item. “ Yara, stop it.”

The hiss in his voice turns into a loud gasp once he realizes his mistake. “Excuse me?” He called you by her name. His ex's name. 

“Fuck, I- I didn’t mean to call you that, angel, I swear it’s because we’re talking about her. That’s all. You’re not her, you’re so much better I swear. Let’s just - just talk about this okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I want you out of my house, now. I’m done, Hyunjin. I’ve been begging for your attention for months and you’re off giving it to someone who’s using you for sex and attention. I did so much, I’ve done everything, but clearly you love fucking so much that you fucked me over. Are you proud of that shit? Are you happy?” He takes a couple of slow steps over to you as you stand there, chest heaving and heart heavy with the sadness that has allowed your burning anger to be the star of the show until now. Maybe if he shows you that he wants you, maybe if he says that you two can fix this you’ll consider believing him.

We all have that one toxic person that we can’t let go of. He’s not at fault for being bound to her so tightly, even if he broke your heart in the process. 

“Listen, angel, I love you so much. I want to be with you, I really do, no one else has fought for me and my time like you have. I don’t want to lose that, please let’s just talk about this. I’ll do anything for you, I swear.” Your glare softens, call it wishful thinking or maybe you’re blinded by the desperate burn of love in your chest but you believe him. You believe him just enough to let him splay his long fingers over the curve of your hip and pull you closer to him.

“Why do you need me if you have her?” You stare at the middle of his chest, watching it rise and fall.

“Because you love me in a way that she never could and never will.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple as he brings his other hand to your waist. “She doesn’t see me like you do.”

He kisses over the shell of your ear, making his way down your neck. Your body is pressed against his as his hand kneads at the swell of your ass and he runs his tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck. You exhale heavily, bringing your hands up to rest on his biceps. You want to push him away, you want to get to the bottom of this and talk to him, so why are you pulling him closer? Why are you allowing small moans to leave your lips as he hypnotizes you into forgetting what he’s been doing to you.

“Hyunjin, stop it.” Your voice falters on the last word, giving way to the whimper fighting to escape your throat. 

“Push me away.” He whispers into your ear, his soft lips brushing against the shell of it and setting your nerves on fire. “If you mean it then push me away.” 

He stops everything, he doesn’t kiss you or squeeze you, you can hear the soft sound of his breathing and feel the gentle beating of his heart as his chest is pressed against your own. You can’t do this, you shouldn’t do this, your brain is screaming at you. You know better than to fall for this, push him away, now. Do it. 

“Don’t stop.” Your eyes flutter shut when he squeezes your ass again, pressing your hips into his so that the bulge in his pants pokes your belly button as it twitches in anticipation. 

“Say it again.” He plants a whisper of a kiss over your temple. “Say it again, angel, say my name.”

“Don’t stop, Hyunjin, please.” His kisses get sloppier as he gets closer to your lips, he plants a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth before catching your lips with his plump ones. You sigh into him, your hands fisting his shirt as your tongue tangles with his. He moans into your mouth, his hands tracing your hips as he takes some steps back, leading you both to the couch. 

“Tell me that you forgive me, baby.” He sits once the frame of the couch hits the back of his legs, dragging you down with him so that you're straddling his hips. His bulge pressed firmly into your dripping heat and you can’t help but to grind against him. Before you can settle into a steady rhythm Hyunjin grips your hips, holding you still against him. “Tell me.”

“I forgive you.” You mumble, the words sound just fine when they roll off of your tongue. They taste sweet as you lick your lips, staring into your lover's eyes defeatedly. You’re too deep into the brain fog, too desperate to feel the love that you’ve been chasing for months. You’d say anything just to feel Hyunjin touch you. You’d do anything to keep him here. 

“I knew you would.” He smiles up at you, starting to guide your hips against him. You throw your head back, your face contorting into a mask of pleasure. Hyunjin's fingers trace your jawline, sending chills down your spine. You close your eyes, allowing him access to any part of you he desires. “You need me too. Just like I need you, don’t you?”

You nod your head, picking up the rhythm of your hips as he starts to roll into you, matching your pace flawlessly. “I do, oh my god, I missed you.” You babble into the hot air as your hands find purchase on his shoulders. You can feel the night scarf covering your hair slip over the crown of your head and fall to the floor, your unruly hair frames your face and Hyunjin can’t help but to moan at the sight. 

“I missed my pretty baby too.” He grunts, eyebrows pinching together as he watches where your clothed cores press into each other. “Oh, fuck, I missed you so much.”

His hands are all over you as you move against him like he’s trying to memorize the pattern of your skin. He’s reintroducing himself with every pulse point that he can reach, lighting every inch of your skin aflame with desire. “Tell me your mine. Tell me you love me, please, please say it.”

“I’m all yours, angel. All fucking yours.” His hips buck up into you as your movements become more sloppy, your climax is dangling right in front of your face. It’s burning in the pit of your stomach, a strangled moan drags from your lips as you get closer to it.

“Again p-please, please, so close ‘s so close Jinnie, again.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, whimpers following your fucked out sentence as your eyes watch Hyunjin. You watch how he bites the tip of his tongue as he gets lost in this bubble of pleasure with you. Your own perfect shield of hot desire. 

“I love you.” He moans, throwing his head back against the couch, his grip on your hip tightens. The strength of his grasp is brushing yet delicious. “I’m yours. I’m all -” 

The melodic sound of Hyunjin’s phone ringing cut him off before he could finish his sentence. His head snaps up as his eyes widen and he stops moving against you. “Get off.”

You whimper, confused eyes staring down at him through your fucked out fog. “Angel, move.” He pushes you to the side much rougher than he intended and you watch him as he stands quickly, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and swiping the green button immediately. 

“Hey.” He clears his throat trying his best to not sound like he was seconds away from coming in his pants. “Yeah I can do that, just give me like twenty minutes, okay?” 

You listen, coming out of your haze just enough to process the situation. That ringtone sounded familiar, it’s the one that he always answers… It's her.

“Hyunjin.” You reach forward, grabbing his wrist but he pulls away, glancing back at you for just a second before turning his attention back to the phone call. 

“Nothing, that’s no one, I’m on my way.” You scoff, watching as he ends the call and starts to frantically fix his clothes. “I have to go something um - something came up.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Hyunjin ignores you, making his way over to your bedroom with you following close behind, a mirror image of what happened minutes ago. “You’re going to her? 

“She said that she needs me and I don’t -” 

“You just told me that you were mine. You just said that, Hyunjin.” You grab his wrist, prompting him to turn to you. He stares down at you with furrowed brows and glassy eyes like he’s in a fog, like he’s been hypnotized to follow a specific instruction. 

“And you said that you forgive me.” He reaches up to cup your cheek and your body melts into his touch before you can even fully process it. “I’ll be back tomorrow, angel. I’ll be yours tomorrow.”

His touch is gone just as fast as it came, leaving you with an empty ache in your chest as you watch him grab his bag and jacket. You stay rooted in place, feeling like your heart has been ripped out of your chest. “Hyunjin.” 

There’s a tremble in your voice as you say his name but he doesn’t seem to mind, it’s like he didn’t even hear you. “I love you.” He leans in to kiss your temple but misses completely, planting a half hearted peck against your hair as he rushes towards the door. You watch as he leaves, quiet and stunned. There are a million thoughts going through your head but you still feel unable to process what had just happened. The sound of the front door closing is what draws you out of your thoughts. 

The silence surrounding you allows room for the reality of the situation to echo around you, bouncing off of the walls and drowning you in this painfully unfamiliar feeling in your chest. You take a sharp inhale as tears start to prick at the back of your eyes. What was supposed to be a stable step towards your bed leaves sinking against its frame. You find yourself grasping one of Hyunjin’s shirts on the floor beneath you, your eyes trail from that garment to the next frantically. He’s everywhere. You can smell him, the soft cotton of the shirt makes you feel like you can feel the beating of his heart beneath it. Tears blur your vision as you sob into the fabric, clutching onto it like it’s all that you have left of him. Maybe it is. You gasp, a choked sob struggling past your lips as the true weight of the moment finally settles on your shoulders.

We all have that one toxic person that we can’t let go of.

[mandarinmoon]

how i'm studying mandarin (in 2024)

as a low-maintenance language learner working a 9-6 office job, i've been muddling around how to improve my mandarin in my free time and keep it fun! And I've found what works for me (thanks to a lot of lurking on here - appreciate all you mandarin langblrs <3), so wanted to share :)

Evening lessons (or italki) - Self studying is great but I do need a kick up the ass sometimes, so these really help. Plus my teacher is great at giving tips here and there which I probably wouldn't pick up on on my own.

ChinesePod - Their podcasts are really well made and accessible, I can't recommend them enough!

HelloChinese - This is my 'I'm bored waiting for my train/bus but I still want to learn Chinese' option that isn't Duolingo. It's not perfect but it has fairly good grammar explanations and native listening segments. You do have to pay a subscription if you're over HSK1 level FYI.

I am an anki hater first and foremost, so here's the vocab learning / dictionary tools I use instead:

TofuLearn - It's straightforward, uses spaced repetition learning AND teaches you stroke order - so ticks all my boxes. Picked it up due to @marilearnsmandarin's posts about it!

Pleco - Obviously, everyone has it downloaded for a reason.

Yabla Chinese Dictionary - Not seen this one talked about so much, but would recommend! It sometimes has video examples of the hanzi in use, which I find helpful.

A big goal for me this year is to consume mandarin content more regularly! It's all well and good watching Peppa Pig, but I need something that I actively want to engage with:

Bilibili Comics - Currently reading 肉店楼上的工作室 and able to understand a fair chunk, so would recommend as a "easier" option.

Mandopop - Not sure how much I'm picking up from listening, especially at my level, but it's fun to jam out to some good tunes. Faves include TIA RAY, Song Qian, Lexie Liu, No Party for Cao Dong & Shi Shi.

Dramas/Movies - Modern chinese dramas are a lot more hit-or-miss for me, especially compared to historical/fantasy. Recent faves include Accidentally in Love & Stay with Me (on Netflix/Viki). Currently watching Reset :) Any other recs, please send my way!

YouTube - I have a separate YT account just to follow Taiwanese/Chinese creators - it takes a bit of searching but you can find some great youtubers who talk about whatever hobby you're into (whether that's cute golden retriever vlogs, travel vlogs or reading vlogs!)

[hedgehog-moss]

I was woken up last night by a sound like a machine gun being fired... loud clak-clak-clak that went on for like 10 seconds and I sat in bed completely bewildered because my brain couldn't come up with a plausible explanation for it. Then I remembered about the thunderstorm warning and thought oh shit, the greenhouse. It could possibly be the sound of thick glass cracking and breaking after a branch fell on it...?

I ran outside in my pyjamas and found the greenhouse intact—then thought oh shit, the chicken coop. Had no idea how a chicken coop could produce such a noise but I ran there anyway, and the coop was fine. It was a dry storm, lots and lots of wind but no rain or hail and I stood there uselessly for a moment, trying to think of other explanations with my 3am brain (not easy), then went to check on the llamas just in case, and I found all three of them standing with very alert ears, staring at a fallen tree—one of the four very tall wild cherries in their pasture.

So that was a relief ! From where I was I couldn't see if the tree had crashed on the fence and destroyed a chunk of it, it seemed possible but I decided that was a problem for tomorrow-me, and in any case it could have been worse. The fact that Pampe was still here boded well (for the integrity of the fence)—but seeing as the llamas were lined up in front of the tree like mourners paying their respects at a funeral, maybe she just felt that taking advantage of the tree's misfortune to immediately escape via the opening created by its prostrate body would be inappropriate.

First thing I saw this morning when I opened my bedroom window was the fallen tree, and I started feeling less optimistic because from afar things really didn't look promising for my poor fence.

(And from up close either)

But the tree missed the fence by just a few metres!

Its branches were tangled up with the other trees' branches and I think some of them slowed its fall until they broke one by one, which would explain the prolonged cracking noises, it wasn't just the trunk. But only 1 branch fell on the fence and it wasn't a large one, so there's no damage!

The God of Fences was on my side last night. :)

Consulted on whether he had been frightened by that loud sinister noise in the middle of the night, Pirlouit declined to comment, as he has more tragic problems right now. Our neighbour made hay recently which means Pirou now has several tonnes of hay staring at him and taunting him just outside his pen, out of reach. He is in a bad mood for reasons that have nothing to do with a stupid tree. It's like if you had to live right outside a pastry shop's window, except worse because you're a donkey (they already find life unfair as it is.)

I wonder if the wild cherry tree will soldier on...? Its roots + part of the trunk are still intact, and there are fallen trees in the forest with only 1 toe still in the ground who take their fate pretty philosophically and just start growing perpendicularly, like okay I guess we're sending our branches in that direction now. I'm going to leave it here and see if it rallies. I think it actually looks pretty breezy right now, it kind of looks like this:

Good luck, wild cherry! Let's see if you still have some life in you...

Oh and since we had a new obstacle, I tried to check if Pandolf remembered the word "Saute !" (Jump) and he does! We did it a bunch of times because I was trying to make him understand that I wanted 1 majestic jump and not his lazy 2-steps solution, but I didn't manage to explain it.

Maybe if I said "no :/" instead of "good great what a dog!!" he would think harder about how to improve his technique, but I'd rather fluff up his ego. Even that ridiculous failure at the end was met with a "yes amazing!!" response from me and he felt like an agility champion instead of a bumbling bag of fur. I'm going to try and get him to find his balance and walk on this part of the trunk, so I expect to see a lot more of his "argh, oops, wait" facial expression :)

[fuckyeahisawthat]

thank you so much for that excellent chani post. i've seen some annoying takes on twitter about how not making her totally devoted and subservient to paul makes her 'unlikeable' and i'm like. buddy. i think that speaks more to how you see women. than anything about her. this chani is very dynamic and interesting to me.

i'll be honest and say i've not read the books. this is me speaking from what i've seen of summaries, but i think giving her a real cause to fight for yet also genuinely loving paul gives her an interesting struggle, and also plays into how the portrayal of the fremen (seems to me to be) more diverse and nuanced. as in, the fremen themselves seem to have more of a push-and-pull to them. the clarification of how different fremen believe differently (the south being more fundamentalist) is a very important thing to include in a movie where you can run into the danger of saying that all adherents to a foreign, islam-adjacent (in coding) religion are all fundamentalists. that can (in less nuanced hands) be a pretty irresponsible thing. so showing that there's also more secular/pragmatic/less dogmatic sectors of the culture seems a pretty good counterweight.

so yeah. this is how i processed it as a movie-goer. and having chani represent that aspect (believing in people over prophecy, action over religion) and having stilgar as the humanized face of the southern peoples (showing that yknow, regardless of being fundamenist beliefs, theyre still PEOPLE with the capacity for love, friendship, honor) makes total logical sense. you're not just "telling" us that there's different aspects to fremen culture, you're SHOWING us by showing different characters who represent those aspects, without demonizing either or turning either into a one-note stereotype.

Thank you! I'm not someone who was a long-term fan of the books before the movie came out (I tried reading Dune as a teenager when I was reading a lot of classic sci-fi but found it too boring) but I did read Dune and Dune Messiah after the first movie came out, both because I wanted to know what happened next and because I wanted to have an opinion on how the movies worked as adaptations.

(book and movie spoilers below and also I basically ended up writing a whole essay in response to this)

My single biggest frustration with the book is that after they arrive at Sietch Tabr and Jessica drinks the Water of Life and becomes Reverend Mother...the book up and skips two years of the story and when we next see Paul he's already got Fremen followers who are ready to die for him and he's in an established relationship with Chani. Oh I was SO MAD when I got to this part. I was like FRANK. FRANK!!!! Did you seriously just skip two years of the most interesting part of your own story???

The thing is, even though I know that Frank Herbert's intention was to write a critique of the idea that oppressed people need an enlightened external (white) savior to liberate them...if you don't provide an alternate explanation for what's happening then you end up falling into some Orientalist tropes anyway. And because, in the book, we don't see the process of how your average background fedaykin comes to trust Paul as a military and political leader, there is nothing in the text to counter the idea that the Fremen are a bunch of unquestioning religious fanatics easily swayed to do violence by belief in a prophecy.

My second biggest frustration with the book is that we're given no reason at all why Chani would fall in love with Paul. While she has some memorable scenes, she doesn't have a lot to do as a character in the book, and she's missing from a whole chunk of the end...because she's in the south...because she and Paul have a baby, Leto II, who's then killed off-page when the sardaukar attack the south. (I'm honestly really glad they cut this from the film, because it never seemed to be given the narrative weight it deserved in the book.)

So you can imagine how happy I was when the Villeneuve movies figured out how to address both these frustrations by tying them together. The fedaykin don't just blindly accept Paul because of some prophecy. They come to trust him because he proves himself as a fighter, and because he starts out from a place of genuine solidarity and humility--which it is possible for him to do because he has no structural power over them at that point. And Chani falls in love with him for the same reason, in that heady environment of fighting side by side for a political cause, and maybe for the first time in a while starting to believe that you can win.

I think the Villeneuve movies improve a lot on what's in the book in terms of how the Fremen are portrayed...when we're with the fedaykin and/or Chani and Stilgar. There we see political debates and discussion and the fact that not all the Fremen think the same way. And we also see little humanizing moments of folks just hanging out, celebrating after a victory in battle and just shooting the shit and being friends.

I do wish the movie had extended this to more parts of Fremen society. If there's one thing I could have added, it would be seeing more of daily life in Sietch Tabr. It makes sense that when we're seeing things from Jessica's POV, she is more distant from and suspicious of the Fremen, seeing them as a force to be manipulated, but I wish we had even one or two scenes of people just being people in the sietch. It felt kind of weirdly empty and not particularly lived-in as a place, and I think they could've easily countered this, with scenes from Chani, Stilgar or Paul's POV, and that would have made it hit even harder when the sietch is attacked.

If there were two things I could have added, I wanted more exploration of the people of the south. Why are they more fundamentalist than the Fremen who live in the north? (We get one line about how "nothing can survive [in the south] without faith" but I wanted more than that.) While I think the movie did a fantastic job of humanizing and differentiating the Fremen we see around Paul, when we get to the south it does backslide a little into "undifferentiated mass of fanatics." Surely the people of the south also have some diversity of political views.

I think there are some interesting threads they could have pulled on in terms of how proximity to direct colonial violence shapes people's ideology. Sietch Tabr is one of the closest Fremen communities to Arrakeen, the seat of colonial control. They have probably had to mount some kind of armed resistance for generations just to keep from being wiped out. I can see that producing skepticism of the prophecy ("well I can't sit around waiting for a messiah but I do have this rocket launcher") as well as resentment at the idea of someone swooping in and taking credit for a struggle that you've put your life on the line for, and probably a lot of people you know have died for. There seem to be some generational differences, too, where young people of Chani's generation put less stock in the prophecy, while the true believers are mostly older. I can see faith in the prophecy coming out of despair--when you've been fighting for decades with no change, maybe you draw the conclusion that only an outside power coming to your aid will make a difference. While the people of the south are still under colonial rule, maybe being generally outside the reach of direct Harkonnen violence (the Harkonnens don't even know they're there) makes the concepts of both oppression and liberation feel more abstract and more receptive to being filled in with Bene Gesserit mysticism. It seems absurd to want more from a movie that's nearly three hours long already...but I wanted more of this.

Still, I do think they managed to improve on a lot of things that frustrated me or are simply dated about the book, while keeping the political thriller/war drama/epic tragedy elements that I think are the heart of the story, and in some cases drawing them out more clearly and effectively than the book did. The best kind of book-to-film adaptation imo is one that has a strong point of view in terms of what the story is About, on a large-scale thematic level, and is not afraid to change individual elements of canon in service of telling that story the most effective way possible in a cinematic medium. While there are always things I want more of, I feel like Denis Villeneuve really, really understood the assignment in terms of the overarching themes of the the story and he delivered so fucking well.

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

“How is life with the cop?” Gwyn asked from behind a stack of books. Emerie was perched on the counter like usual, while Nesta flipped through several new books that had just come in.

“He’s not a cop,” she reminded her friends. The fact that anyone could look at him and believe he was anything but a criminal was a testament to Cassian’s charm. The whole town loved him, greeting him by name whenever he walked down the road and all but throwing themselves at him at any given opportunity.

It annoyed Nesta. All of it annoyed her. She disliked how easy he was to live with and how much she looked forward to coming home at night so they could cook and talk together. She was supposed to be keeping tabs on him and figuring out his game, but all Nesta had learned about was Cassian’s past.

“Did you ever ask him about Brent?” Emerie questioned. 

It ought to have disturbed her how easily her friends believed Cassian was a criminal capable of framing a suicide. Gwyn and Emerie hadn’t flinched when Nesta told them about her suspicions, for whatever that said about them 

“No. I don’t need to ask him,” Nesta said, thinking about how Cassian had smiled when she’d told him what had happened. It made her divorce a lot easier, if nothing else. What Nesta really wanted was an explanation. Surely there was more than just the threat on the lawn. 

She couldn’t ask without admitting she knew what he was. 

“It’s obvious he did it because he likes her,” Gwyn added with an impertinent wink.

“What would you know about men liking women?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn shrugged. “I know enough.”

“Maybe we should tell him about—”

“No.” Gwyn’s voice went icy cold at the suggestion. Labeled the town home wrecker, Gwyn was shunned by all the well-to-do women in town who didn’t want to admit that what happened to Gwyn was rape simply because the man in question was a good ‘ol boy. 

Nesta hated seeing all of them—hated the way they acted so high and mighty, like somehow they were good people despite their willingness to protect a rapist. Nesta would have liked to see Cassian kill him.

Hell, she would have liked to have done it herself, and she knew Emerie felt the same way. 

“We don’t need a man for that,” Nesta reminded Emerie, earning a bright grin in response.

“How long are you going to let this go on?” Gwyn asked, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“Until she gets him naked,” Emerie teased.

Nesta could help her flush. “I don’t want to see him naked,” she lied as Emerie and Gwyn made booing noises and pointed their thumbs down. All Nesta thought about was Cassian—they’d been living together for two weeks and he spent more time without a shirt on than he did wearing one. He could hardly be blamed—it was miserably hot outside and Nesta refused to turn on her oven, so they were cooking outdoors each night.

And Cassian often just forwent his shirt, giving her access to his toned, broad chest and the rippling muscles against his stomach and back. All she could think about was what the rest of him looked like.

Nesta hadn’t had sex in over five years—since before she’d been dumped in this small town. She’d tried to go on one date with a man named Tomas—and he’d decided he was going to have her whether she wanted him or not. Nesta had been fortunate to escape, biting his ear so viciously there was still a chunk missing. 

After that, Nesta never bothered again. No one had been tempting enough until Cassian sauntered through her front door, made worse by the knowledge that he might be there to kill her. He clearly had no qualms about it. 

Still, he’d been surprisingly kind to her and Nesta caught herself forgetting what he was. She never mistook him for a cop—that was still a joke—but she was starting to see him as a man she could like.

A man she could strip naked, if nothing else.

It was Nesta’s pride that got in her way. She simply could not be the one who made the first move. It was making their living situation tense—Nesta was actively trying to break him.

“Do you swim, Cassian?” Nesta heard herself asking after dinner that night, thinking about the black swimsuit folded up in her dresser. 

He shrugged. “I know how, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Nesta leveled a long look at him. “You don’t look like a man who can swim.”

Cassian paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nesta shrugged, rising to her feet. “You don’t look like you can swim.”

“I can swim,” he told her, falling right into her trap. The male ego was a fascinating thing. “I didn’t bring swim trunks with me, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Nesta said, her tone implying she thought this was just a clever excuse to get out of swimming. She then sauntered off, undressing herself to put on that bikini.

She felt nervous, looking at the high straps of the bottoms that revealed the cheeks of her ass. Not to mention how out there her breasts suddenly were.

Was it too much? 

Nesta threw on a cover up before marching out. Cassian was still in his athletic shorts—no shirt—and a pair of slide on shoes. “Where are we swimming?”

“There is a little lake a couple blocks over,” she informed him, grabbing two towels from the bathroom. “There’s a community pool, too, but I never use it.”

“Why not?”

“Too many children,” she said, though in truth it had more to do with the fact that the pool was always filled with people who didn’t like her, and Nesta didn’t want to be surrounded by people staring and whispering. 

“Makes sense,” Cassian said, though after a pause he added, “You don’t want children?”

That felt like a loaded question. “Maybe someday,” she replied, unwilling to examine why he might ask her that. Cassian only nodded, his broad hand resting absently on his stomach. Nesta was trying to ignore the trail of hair that began just beneath his naval before vanishing into his pants, too. 

That was a little more difficult. Nesta forced herself to look straight ahead as they walked and answered Cassian’s endless stream of questions like she was interviewing for a job. So what if he was hot? That was his problem—not hers.

Except, Cassian was hell bent on making it her problem as they tramped over the dirt path that led from the sidewalk to the lake. Nesta could hear children laughing in the distance, though the rocky patch of shore that she and Cassian had chosen was free of everyone but themselves. 

Nesta pulled off her coverup, ignoring Cassian. Behind her, he made a soft, strangled noise she chose to believe was about the rocks digging into the soft soles of their feet.

But deep down, she knew he was reacting to her outfit. 

The water was warm and still somehow refreshing even in the late evening air. Nesta waded in deeper and deeper, embarrassed that so much of her body was on display. Some part of her appreciated his reaction, though she didn’t want to admit that, either. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with genuine appreciation.

She turned toward the shore, water up to her chin, to find Cassian standing there.

Totally naked.

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, turning away like it mattered. She’d seen everything, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

He was ridiculous. The sheer size of him…Nesta shuddered. She wanted to know what it was like to feel him on top of her. Even knowing everything she knew, Nesta still wanted him. What would her sisters say if they ever learned this? Nesta couldn’t help but take another look as Cassian waded into the water.

Just like the rest of him, Cassian’s thighs were big and muscular—they looked like they could easily crush her, should he ever want to. And his cock…fuck. He wasn’t erect and yet Nesta had a good sense of the size and girth of him. Did he fit inside women, or did he merely wedge in half and call it good?

“I told you I didn’t have trunks,” Cassian said, submerging himself so she didn’t have to feel so guilty every time she looked his way.

“You could have kept your underwear on!”

“Nah,” Cassian replied with a shit eating grin. “I wanted you to look at my penis.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, if I had to guess. I’ve never seen a therapist so who can say for sure?”

“Why…why would you want that?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms over her chest as though he could see her through the murky, blue-green water. 

“C’mon, Nes—”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, immediately irritated he couldn’t remember the most basic parts of his pretend job. 

Cassian rolled his eyes, reaching for her shoulders. Nesta flung back, splashing him in the face. If he touched her she was certain she’d be ruined. Better to give the illusion of resistance, at any rate. Make him work for it. 

“Come here,” he murmured, putting his hand on her hip. Nesta’s heart thudded in her throat, gagging any potential retort. All she could think about was his broad, callused hand touching her bare skin and how close he suddenly was. “This isn’t wrong.”

Oh, but it was. He still thought she didn’t know who he was but Nesta was painfully aware that she was letting herself get felt up by a man who was part of the people hunting them. Nesta braced her hands on his strong chest intending to shove him away when a new idea struck her.

“This is nothing,” she told him, catching the flash of hurt. “It can never be anything, Cassian.”

“What are you saying?”

“That this is going nowhere. You’re my guard, I’m—if we’re going to do this, it can only be casual. Nothing more.”

Cassian’s reactions were better contained this time. Nesta had no idea what the mobster holding her was thinking. Only that he had her pinned with that stare and his thumb was rubbing lazy circles against her hip bone.

“I’ll take whatever I can get when it comes to you,” Cassian finally murmured, his gaze darting to her mouth. Nesta inclined her chin and then oh. Cassian kissed her, yanking her so she was flush against the hard slab of his body. He should have tasted like the heat—Nesta was certain she did—but somehow Cassian’s mouth reminded her of snow covered mountains and swaying pine trees. 

Nesta slid her arms around his neck before wrapping her legs around his waist. She was painfully aware of his cock and how it seemed to span the entirety of her back. That was likely the water and her arousal confusing her…though she didn’t need to reach between them to know Cassian’s cock was of monstrous proportions. 

Right then, though, it felt safe. She wasn’t having sex in the water for UTI based reasons, and kissing him was good enough. Cassian, for all his many crimes, was tragically, a good kisser. It would have been so much easier if he wasn’t. Surely he had some sort of flaw? Other than his career and his unflinching ability to point a gun at another man's face.

Nesta kissed him rougher at the memory, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip. The inherent violence oozing from Cassian was clearly doing something for her. Nesta knew, right then, that Cassian wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe everyone else, but she believed in her very soul that Cassian had no intention of taking her life.

Why would he be kissing her if he did?

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, the only words spoken before he returned to kissing her. Nesta took the opportunity to thread her fingers through his thick, dark hair, tossing the pony tail that kept half up off his face into the water behind them. He was so beautiful it made her sick—what happened to greasy older men in sweat suits? Since when did criminals look as good as Cassian did?

Nesta considered dragging her tongue out of his mouth to ask, but remembered only at the last minute that he didn’t know that she knew the truth about him. Better not to tell him, either—what if he decided to tie her to a chair and torture her? Why did the thought of that turn her on? 

Nesta didn’t notice Cassian’s hand until he pushed aside the thin strip of cloth hiding her pussy from the world and brushed his fingers over her aching clit. Nesta jerked in his arms, pulling away to bite his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Cassian whispered as Nesta rocked against his hand. It had been so long since someone touched her—or, that’s what she told herself, anyway. 

Still, it wouldn’t do to just take her pleasure at his expense. Ignoring that she was desperate to touch him, Nesta lied to herself that it was only fair to reciprocate. Nesta gripped him right beneath his blunt head so she could rub her  thumb against the slit of his cock.

Cassian groaned. “Christ,” he swore, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is this what you like?” Nesta asked, stroking him once.

“Harder,” he rasped. 

Of course he liked it a little rough. Nesta didn’t bother mentioning to him that she did, too. She merely tightened her grip on him and stroked again, delighting in Cassian’s open mouthed moan. Was that all it took to bring a man like him to his knees? Nesta couldn’t think about it given the way his finger was teasing her entrance. 

Cassian plunged himself inside of her, eyes on her face. “That’s it,” he murmured, arching into her hand. “Take what you need.”

What she needed was him to throw her down to the floor and fuck her senseless. Nesta wanted Cassian to fuck her so hard it reset her completely, turning off the endless stream of thoughts in her mind. Even then, Nesta forgot they were in a dusk drenched lake where anyone could walk up and witness what was happening. Normally it would horrify her.

But right then, all she could think about was what he tasted like when he came. Nesta kissed him again, sliding her tongue against his in an attempt to find out.

They lived together, she reminded herself. If she wanted to taste the rest of him she could. It was tempting to ask him to put her down, get dressed, and take her home. The only reason she didn’t want the realization that she’d talk herself out of the whole thing if she stopped now.

And Cassian’s hand felt good against her aching body. Nesta was full on grinding against him, drowning in the feeling. She barely knew what she was doing to him, though Cassian’s desperate panting told her whatever it was, he liked it.

Nesta bit the sensitive skin between his shoulder and his neck hard enough to leave the imprint of her teeth behind. Cassian’s hips bucked into her hand and she wondered just how long it had been since someone had touched him like this. Nesta knew he was close, could feel the vein beneath his cock pushing against her fingers. 

It half disappointed her when he did, though the sight of his parted lips and head thrown back felt religious, somehow. 

“Quick off the mark, huh?” she whispered, lips against his skin.

Cassian’s grip around her body tightened the moment Nesta tried to wriggle free.

“I can sit here all night,” he all but growled, fingers moving inside her faster. “But we’re not leaving until you make you come on my hand.”

“Cass—”

“That’s right,” he praised, licking from her collarbone to her ear. “Imagine how good you’ll feel when it’s my cock instead of my hand.”

Nesta couldn’t help her little moan. It was tempting to demand he show her right then and had they not been submerged in water, Nesta might have foregone all her common sense and asked him to. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself pretend the fingers pumping in and out of her body was his cock.

Cassian used his thumb to draw tight circles around her clit, working her in tandem until Nesta was panting, too, lips pressed against his sun soaked shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself, much like it seemed Cassian couldn’t, either. Nesta came, rocking her hips against him while moaning against his skin. Cassian, for his part, chuckled softly as he ran his nose through her hair. 

“I can’t wait to see you undone,” he whispered before turning her face so she had to kiss him. Nesta did, still overwhelmed by the pleasure still rocking through her. He was sweeter somehow—cooler than the air around them, softer than anything she’d ever touched.

“Do you think there are alligators here?” he asked when Nesta wriggled away, still held in his arms. She twisted to look behind her.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

Cassian only shrugged, some apprehension creeping into his expression. “Maybe we should get out.”

It only occurred to her once they were on the shore that Cassian might have wanted her to leave for different reasons. 

CASSIAN:

All Cassian wanted to think about was Nesta’s pussy clenched around his fingers. The water had washed it all away and yet he could still feel the phantom grip of her tight around him and knew that if he could get himself inside her, she’d wreck him. Cassian wanted her to—was so desperate that he began constructing arguments in his mind as to why they should that very night. 

Fuck her casual fling or whatever she’d said. Cassian wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t end with the two of them together. Seriously together. So he’d lie and pretend he didn’t mind because she’d never give him the time of day if she didn’t.

And what did Nesta know, anyway? She’d been alone for the last half decade, wholly on her own and taking care of herself. Let her see how it felt to be taken care of by someone else. She’d soften just enough for Cassian to make his move…and, he supposed, tell her the truth. After he had her and there was nowhere for her to go but back to his bed.

Sure, she’d rage and scream at him for a while…but in Cassian’s fantasies, she was so in love with him that she forgave him after maybe one well-deserved slap to the face. Perhaps two. No more, though. He’d figure Rhys out, too, which he figured would be a little easier. Maybe even welcome. After all, the youngest Archeron might be more willing and compliant if she knew her sister was part of Rhys’s family.

“Agnes.”

A man’s voice cut through Cassian’s musings. Looking up at the figure approaching, Cassian immediately decided he didn’t like him. Maybe it was the general smug look on his otherwise forgettable face.

Or maybe it was the way Nesta’s spine immediately straightened and her once soft face began icy and cold.

“Tomas,” she said without any affection or warmth. 

That should have been enough to see the man walk away with his tail tucked between his legs. Cassian might have, had she looked at him with such open revulsion. He crossed his arms over his chest instead, spreading his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to intimidate the other man. Cassian knew he was big and he knew people were wary of him.

Most of the time, they had nothing to worry about. But this man?

Maybe he ought to be a little worried. 

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Tomas said, tilting his head so Cassian could see a chunk of his ear was missing. “Busy?” Nesta only shrugged, her fingers balled to fists.

“You should hit me up some time. Finish what we started,” Tomas said, not bothering to look at Cassian at all.

“I don’t think so,” Nesta replied, never one to mince words. 

Tomas opened his mouth to respond but Cassian had enough. “Take care,” he said, shoving past without a second look. Nesta came with him, keeping close as though she expected him to grab her and start running. 

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice nearly drowned by the screaming crickets in the distance. 

“No one,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Liar. An old boyfriend?” Cassian asked, trying to imagine that man doing anything for Nesta beyond getting on her nerves. 

“Not even that,” she mumbled, her eyes strangely glassy. “We went out one time. Never again.”

Cassian felt his blood grow icy. “What did he do?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she snapped, too prideful to tell him the truth. Cassian could scarcely think, his mind running through a million new images. He could Nesta, helpless and scared while a man—

“Did he touch you?” Cassian asked, not caring how he sounded. Nesta looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“He tried,” she finally admitted, turning her gaze back to the sidewalk in front of them. “I took some of his ear for the trouble.”

“Good girl,” he praised.

If only it did anything to ease his own fury. Cassian couldn’t get the images from his mind, utterly wrecking his otherwise perfect evening in the potentially alligator-infested waters. Nesta wanted the world to think she was the kind of person who wasn’t afraid of anything. That she could weather any storm.

And Cassian didn’t believe for a minute that she hadn’t been scared. 

Instead of following her to bed, Cassian once again took his place on the sofa and he waited. Just like with Brent, Cassian decided to take things into his own hands while hoping Nesta wouldn’t notice. Or, if she did notice, she’d at least look the other way. Cops went rogue all the time…why couldn’t he? 

Except, Cassian wasn’t a rogue cop. This was just who he was, who he’d always be. Some people were talented singers or good at crochet, but Cassian’s great skill was with a weapon. Slipping from the house, Cassian became one with the shadows as he channeled his inner Azriel. This place was supposed to be safe for Nesta and since he’d arrived, all he’d uncovered was endless harm that had happened.

What was the point of witness protection if anyone could just touch Nesta any which way? Why not send her back home and let Rhys—Cassian shook his head, the image of Rhys holding a gun at Nesta’s beautiful face slipping into his mind’s eye unbidden. He’d talk to his brother later—but Nesta was off limits to everyone. Even Rhys.

Especially to Tomas.

It was easy enough to find him, though. Tucked away in an old, plantation style house that set Cassian’s teeth on edge, Cassian discovered that Tomas must have come from some amount of money. His father did something—Nesta had mentioned it. He didn’t remember, too fixated on her mouth even in memory. Christ, but she’d been coming on his hand only a few hours before and if life was fair, he’d be in her bed while she came on his face, too. 

But life wasn’t fair. 

Cassian broke in through the back with ease given Tomas hadn’t thought to lock his doors. It was a blessing here in this rural little town—people felt safe. They trusted their neighbors even when their neighbors were rapists, because people in these parts thought you could tell who was a monster by sight alone.

Cassian knew better. 

Cassian slipped up the steps, ignoring the ugly art on the walls and the pictures of a life that didn’t seem worth very much. He might have been interested in other circumstances but that night, all Cassian wanted was to get back to Nesta. 

Tomas slept soundly in the master bedroom, unaware Cassian prowled the space looking for anything interesting. He found, helpfully, a phone with a text message from a woman threatening to kill him. 

Perfect. 

Maybe, he thought with amusement, they’d ask him to help investigate. Oh, how he hoped they would. 

Cassian sat on the edge of the bed, letting his weight wake Tomas gently from sleep. The man looked up, bleary eyed and still unaware that Cassian had pressed the barrel of his gun into his mouth.

“Shhh,” Cassian murmured as he brushed a piece of Tomas’s hair from his frightened eyes. “My finger might slip if you move too quickly.”

Tomas tried anyway, but Cassian was bigger, stronger, and faster. With one hand, he slammed Tomas back to the bed and held him there by the throat.

“I’ll kill—”

“You’ll what?” Cassian interrupted, cocking his weapon. “Will you try and rape me, too?”

“That bitch is a liar—”

“Try again,” Cassian snarled, pressing his gun so roughly to Tomas’s temple he was certain he’d left a bruise. At least the scene would look angry, he reasoned. Like two lovers fighting over something Cassian was certain was stupid given how dumb Tomas was. Still, he was ready to be done. 

“Whatever she told you wasn’t true,” Tomas said, apparently deciding he’d risk his own life rather than admit to anything honest. 

Cassian made a buzzing noise with his throat. “I’m sorry, that’s the wrong answer.”

“Wait—”

If Cassian had the capacity for mercy, he might have listened. He didn’t, though. Cassian pulled the trigger with a sigh, as if the entire thing was some horrible imposition. In a way, it was. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be thinking about what Tomas had done to Nesta and how no amount of killing could take any of it back. She was still hurt, would have to live with his actions for the rest of her life.

Staring down at the lifeless body before him, Cassian wished he could kill him all over again. He could have shot him a couple more times, but Cassian didn’t want to risk someone hearing him and catching him in the act. He slipped back into the night unnoticed and was on the couch before Nesta ever woke.

And Nesta loved to be up early. Feigning sleep, Cassian waited for her to speak first. “Want to do yoga with me this morning?” she whispered, coming to sit on the arm of the couch where his head was. Nesta wore a pair of tight black leggings and an even tighter top that made Cassian’s insides achey. No, he didn’t want to do yoga with her unless it was a euphemism for sex.

And then he desperately did.

“Sure,” he heard himself saying like the liar he was. It didn’t stop Cassian from pulling off his shirt just so he could watch her eyes drift down his body. 

C’mon, Nesta, he pleaded silently, Take your shirt off too.

She didn’t, though Cassian swore she wanted to. Maybe he was just delusional, reading too much into her minute expressions. He did catch her eyes slide down his naked torso briefly, and that carried Cassian through the miserable humidity as Nesta walked him through yoga. He was drenched in sweat by the time they made their way back into the air conditioning, panting from exertion and the heat. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Nesta he was going to shower. Had Cassian not turned his head at the exact right moment, he’d have missed that look on her beautiful face. Luck was with him, smiling when he opened his mouth to speak the words. 

“Cassian,” she whispered. It was the only word she needed to speak—he knew what she was thinking. Cassian merely reacted, reaching for her body and hauling her upward before she could change her mind. Instead, he kissed her with all the pent up desperation he’d felt the night before, pouring his want and need into her so she felt it.

Among other things he was sure she was feeling. Cassian was nearly dizzy from the rush of blood to his cock, legs trembling despite how easy it was to hold Nesta against that floral papered wall. 

Nesta’s mouth tasted like sunshine and mint and with little effort, Cassian managed to free her thick hair from the loose braid she wore. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, certain if he told her how he really felt, she’d freak out. Better to ease her into it.

Nesta merely fisted his hair between long, slender fingers and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Cassian could scarcely think as she bent forward and licked the column of his throat up from his collarbone until she reached his ear. When her teeth tugged against sensitive flesh, Cassian nearly came in his pants.

Fuck.

He was no better than a school boy. 

Nesta was something from his darkest fantasies come to life. Ignoring how utterly insane her body was—and Cassian was struggling to ignore that fact—the way she kissed was something from a daydream. What would happen when he got that mouth around his cock? Cassian was desperate to find out.

Desperate enough to pull her off that wall, sloppy kissing her down the short hall until he could drop her on her bed. Cassian hadn’t seen the room and despite all the bright light flooding through open windows, Cassian knew he wasn’t going to see it right then, either.

“Take this off,” he demanded, straddling her hips as she laid flat on her back. 

“Why should I do anything you tell me to?” she replied, traitorous fingers teasing the hair beneath his navel.

“Because I’ll tie you up and gag you if you don’t,” Cassian replied, too aroused by the thought. 

A soft breath escaped Nesta, those icy blue eyes darker than he’d ever seen them. Something told Cassian she’d like a little roughness, at least when they were in bed. Caught up in his fantasies, Cassian almost missed Nesta arch her back off the bed, pressing her hips against his own as she peeled off that tight top. 

All thoughts flew out of his head when she took that bra off, too. “Christ,” he thought he whispered, though maybe he just thought it. He had both in his hands before his mouth crashed against her own, teasing pretty, pink nipples against his calloused thumbs.

He wasn’t giving her back. When this was all over, Cassian would drag her kicking and screaming back home if he had to, but he wasn’t letting her go. 

Not now, not ever. 

Cassian was greedy, rubbing his cock against both the fabric covering them. He wanted to be buried within her and in service of that goal, because nipping bruising kisses along the side of her neck. 

Mine, she’s mine. 

Nesta threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking the hair tie out so his own dark hair fell like a curtain around his face. Cassian felt brand-new somehow, remade in her eyes. “You are…” Everything. 

Cassian took a nipple in his mouth to keep himself from saying so, letting her imagine all the things he thought she was. Nesta raked her nails against his scalp, unaware of how good it felt to be touched like that. She wasn’t afraid of him, didn’t revere him. She wasn’t some weird groupie hoping to be a mob wife, nor was she some scared little thing that offered tentative touches and whispered words about if he had a weapon.

No one ever thought he was funny when he whipped out his cock. 

He needed to do this right, to make her as obsessed with him as he was with her. That was, when the inevitable truth was revealed, Nesta would be more forgiving. 

“These need to come off,” Cassian murmured, lips pressed to the flat skin of her stomach as he hooked a finger into the waistband of her leggings. “I need to taste you.”

Nesta merely lifted her hips in offering, leaving Cassian to grind himself against the mattress in order to keep himself together. If Cassian thought anything would be easier once Nesta was fully undressed, he was wrong. Everything about her was a dream, right down to the neat square of trimmed hair Nesta maintained between her legs.

Realizing that maybe he was just an animal, Cassian pushed apart her legs so he could look at her in the golden sunlight.

Words failed him. Not that he’d ever been a particularly loquacious man—that had always been Rhysand’s forte—but even then, nothing seemed adequate. She was perfect, too good for his blood-stained hands.

If Nesta was an angel, then he was the devil. He intended to drag her to hell with him, regardless of what she deserved. He’d already killed for this woman—twice. And as Cassian lowered himself between her legs, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life doing it. Cassian’s allegiance shifted right then—he was still a General, but he served Nesta Archeron first.

Everyone else, second.

The first taste of Nesta Archeron’s pussy was an awakening. Cassian groaned, unconcerned with seeming unaffected or like he had his life together. She was so wet and sweet and when his tongue found her clit, Nesta arched herself closer in encouragement. That was all Cassian needed to convince him to pull her against his face, breathing be damned.

All Cassian could think about was her face and what she’d look like when she came. He tried to look at her, but Nesta’s breasts got in the way of his view…not that Cassian was complaining a whole lot. There were worse things he could be staring at. Everytime Nesta took a breath, her breasts jiggled, sending a thrill of arousal straight to his balls. Did he rush his way through eating her out to feel her wrapped around his cock? Or did he take his time so he could continue staring at her tits?

Deciding he’d just use his finger as a replacement for his penis, Cassian slowed the circles he was making around her clit to gently push himself into her body. Whatever he’d been imagining was nothing like the reality of having her body clenched around him. Silken heat utterly stopped his whole body, turning Cassian into a mindless robot capable only of chasing pleasure and nothing more.

He needed to be inside her. Cassian didn’t want to wait and yet he didn’t pull himself away, either. Vowing he could do a better job, he returned to licking her with a vengeance while his finger began pumping in and out of her body.

Just wait until you see all the things I want to do to you, baby.

Next time he’d sit her on her face and have her suck him while he took his time. The thought was so arousing that Cassian desperately ground his cock into her bed, unable to stroke himself. He wasn’t going to last, he reminded himself. He knew the second he got himself inside her, he’d have minutes to get her off again before it was all too late.

Better to have her come on his tongue, just in case. 

And she did, fisting his hair to hold him close, taking what she needed without a care or concern. Was this love? Cassian was certain it was. Moreso when he raised his head and she pulled him toward her, not worried that his mouth was wet from her. Nesta kissed him like she wanted him, like she was drowning in all the same feelings he was.

And when he notched the head of his cock against her still convulsing cock, he nearly told her everything. How he felt, the truth about himself—everything. Her tongue was in his mouth, which was the only thing that kept Cassian from speaking. He would have rather died than stopped. 

Though, she stopped when Cassian thrust himself inside her, arching her neck to look at the shared space between their bodies. “Cassian,” she whispered, squeezed so tightly around him that somehow, Cassian couldn’t breathe.

“You can take me,” he replied, because what else was there to say? He was buried to the balls in her body and the only thing that could have convinced him to stop was her direct plea to remove himself.

Nesta looked up at him. “Who said I couldn’t?” she asked, fiery as ever.

Cassian couldn’t help his laugh. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, sliding himself out as much as he could stand—which wasn’t much, to be fair.

It was pleasure like he’d never experienced, like how he’d once dreamed it might be back when having sex with women was just a distant fantasy. No one could compare to the perfection that was Nesta Archeron, and no one ever would. 

“You fuck me so well,” he panted, wrapping his fingers loosely around her throat. What did she like, he wondered? What did it take to get her off? He wished he’d asked before hand, if only to ensure he wouldn’t fuck this up. “Tell me how you liked to be fucked.” Nesta’s gaze found his, sharp enough to kill him if she’d wanted. “You talk too much,” was her only reply.

Cassian couldn’t stop—couldn’t stop his desperate thrusting, couldn’t stop his babbling.

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock. I’ll bet you’d be prettier on your knees,” he said, reaching between them to rub at her clit.

Nesta moaned loud enough that anyone passing by wouldn’t have to guess at what she was doing. Good. 

“You belong to me,” he panted, watching as she began to crest again. Her cheeks were flushed, her long hair a tangled halo around her beautiful face. And her tits bounced up and down just the way he’d hoped they would back when he’d been eating her out. He’d never forget this, would spend the rest of his life stroking his cock to the memory. 

“You’re mine, Nesta,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her throat just enough to heighten her pleasure without scaring her. “You’ll always be mine.”

Nesta came with a strangled scream, clamping the walls of her pussy around him so tight it felt like she was intentionally trying to pull the come from his balls. It worked—Cassian came, too, burying his face in her shoulder to breathe her in. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, not thinking about what he’d just done.

All he could think about was how good it felt—and how badly he wanted to do it again.

Cassian needed to get her out of this place before they got caught.

He needed a plan.

[zahri-melitor]

Playing with Tim's preboot schooling timeline again:

7th Grade (12): Tim is at an unnamed boarding school. By my own timeline Jason dies in April close to the end of this school year.

(Tim turns 13 and Jason turns 15 over the summer. Fight me on Jason dying at 14 and 9 months, it's the best way to make his listed death date of 27 April work with the rest of the timeline and known birth dates)

8th Grade (13): Tim starts the year at an unnamed boarding school, becomes Robin. At some point after Haiti he is transferred to a local public school for the remainder of the year, while Jack is in hospital.

Note: this ‘year’ covers 1988-1992 in comics, and a good chunk of it is buried in ‘Bruce mourning Jason’ and ‘time Tim spends training’.

9th Grade (14): Tim starts at Gotham Heights High School, which is on the mainland near Bristol not Gotham proper, prior to Robin II. Tim remains at Gotham Heights High for the school year, until early No Man's Land where Jack looks at having Tim study from home in Keystone until they settle in.

Tim then spends the summer holidays and up to Christmas in No Man's Land, turning 15 there.

10th Grade (15): Tim is enrolled at Brentwood Academy from January to close to the end of the school year.

Tim has to take a 10th grade equivalency test over the summer in Robin #107 to prove he's at an educational standard to be enrolled in 11th grade after the holidays. Following this Tim turns 16 over the summer and has moved to live in Gotham proper.

Notes: the real reason Tim probably had to take this test is due to his schooling disruption from No Man's Land, unless Brentwood is not considered to be an accredited school.

11th Grade (16): Tim starts the year at Louis E. Grieve Memorial High School, but within a month War Games happens and he subsequently moves to Bludhaven, where he enrols at John Wayne High School for a couple of days before dropping out completely. Tim spends the rest of this school year living in Bludhaven and then on the world trip with Dick & Bruce.

Tim turns 17.

12th Grade (17): Tim is enrolled in Gotham City High School by Bruce on their return to Gotham. Tim completes part of the school year there, but drops out before graduation.

Noted oddity: Prior to Tim dropping out in the last few issues of Robin, Steph is also at Gotham City High, despite traditionally being considered a year ahead of him, and Steph starting at Gotham University in Reborn.

Way to resolve this: Steph spent at least 6 months studying from home during her pregnancy AND at least 18 months in Africa at Leslie's Aid camp. When she got back to Gotham Crystal enrolled her back in high school while Steph completed applications for university and had whatever schooling she received while in Africa transferred. Steph started at Gotham University as a mid-year entry given the disruption in her education.

Alternately, Tim 'dropping out of school' was him missing the last few weeks of 12th Grade and not officially graduating as he took off to look for Bruce. Steph then proceeded to start university a year 'late' at the start of the academic year in Batgirl 2009. However, this explanation would place Tim at 18 years of age for Red Robin, while we know he was still 17 as of Red Robin #12.

[britcision]

SNACKS!

For all y’all freaking about the ghost marriage joke 😉

Also Jason is not pregnant there is no mpreg but this will absolutely not stop him from bursting into fake tears to fuck with Dick if Dick mentions his “parasite”

——————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee part i

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep.

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

A little more emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

He may still want a pillow to scream into for a good six hours, but for him? Still a solid improvement. He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. He hadn’t missed anything.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

———————

Tag List:

@welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle e @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel l @honeysuckletook k

[oshinohoshi]

What do Ai's words in ch 154 say about her?

I thought I said all I wanted to say about the Hikaru/Ai breakup in this post but I want to comment on something major I glossed over: Ai bringing up Taiki, and therefore Hikaru's sexual assault, before she left.

I've had to mull it over because (without some of the context provided below) it's just so out of character. Ai started her breakup speech with "being with you forever is too much for me," followed that up by stating that Hikaru's child born from molestation was too tough, and ended with "I can't love you." Talk about psychological damage. If I was him, I'd be curled up on the floor sobbing. I'm sure he was.

Just look at the below panel. Fifteen years later, he framed Taiki's birth as something he did. That's devastating.

BUT I'm coming back to critically alter this post (sorry to anyone who liked/reblogged it already) because the lovely @aihoshiino provided some important context about Ai's words being vaguer and less harsh in Japanese. I have pasted this as bullet points at the end of this post and it's far more important than anything I have to say, so if you want to stop here and just read that, I highly encourage it.

To summarize: In English, it sounds more like Ai blamed Hikaru for Taiki, whereas in Japanese it's vaguer and not as cruel. Which isn't to say Ai did nothing wrong when she glibly walked away, but it's far more in line with her character.

But there's still the question of why say this at all. Didn't Ai realize that "I can't love you" was enough? Why bring up the worst thing that ever happened to him, the very thing that broke him so badly she felt he couldn't raise their kids?

She may have wanted him to hate her, thereby setting him free of the supposed burden of herself and her pregnancy. It was also a convenient lie. Unfortunately, it was one Hikaru easily swallowed because that was already how he felt about himself.

She said in the DVD that she thought he'd be OK once she was gone. I do wonder if she really thought that or just hoped so. After all, she later felt that a whopping 15 years later he might still be struggling. Either way, it worked to chase him away.

Did Ai blithely say something hurtful and uncalled for that caused lasting damage? Yes. Was she a teenager who couldn't communicate her emotions, ran away from conflict to protect herself, and had a traumatic childhood that influenced her developmentally? Also yes. Not to mention, she was dealing with an emotionally dependent boy and an unplanned pregnancy. It's not an excuse, but it's an explanation.

Even if we were to ignore the subtleties I mentioned and view this in the worst possible light, saying a horrible thing you don't mean doesn't make you a horrible person.

Hikaru gets Ai's characterization mostly right in the below panel but he's wrong if he thinks Ai's cruel words were an accurate representation of her.

Finally, I think getting hung up on what we, as people who don't have the lived experience of Ai, would do in her shoes is missing the point. The idea isn't to judge Ai as innocent or not innocent. Instead, we are invited to see that Ai was a loving person but she was also human and humans sometimes fuck up badly.

A good chunk of the manga focuses on the complex relationships between characters as well as their relationships with their inner selves. This chapter touches on both. Hikaru misunderstood Ai's intentions and Ai failed to understand her own feelings for him or what to do about it. The reader, meanwhile, if they were clinging to any misconceptions of Ai as some kind of saint, is forced to reconcile with who Ai really was.

The below is the context I mentioned from @aihoshiino. I'm just gonna paste this word for word from Claire:

Ai's words aren't quite as pointedly cruel in Japanese. Her line in Japanese that mangaplus translates as "I can't even, that's too tough, I can't bear it" is '無理無理、流石に それは キツいって、背負え ないよ!` Which is more like, "No way, no way, that's too hard, it's too much to carry"

Importantly, she does not specify who cannot carry this weight

The only time she specifically talks about herself is when she says `子供も･･･うーん 私じゃ難しいかな` which mangaplus tled as "about the baby, it's difficult for me too" and ig that's not WRONG but the tone is kind of off. In Japanese there's more of the sense that she's saying that she, herself, is not up to the task, that she's lacking, she wouldn't be able to do it VS the situation (and Kamiki with it) being in of itself the problem

Basically mangaplus's TL is not incorrect in strict text but does kind of mistranslate the spirit of the exchange imo

It makes Ai more pointedly cruel and self-centred whereas the Japanese text imo is more in line with the thoughtless, innocent cruelty she hurt Nino with

The wording of the Japanese text makes it clear that this was a misunderstanding and Kamiki took the worst possible interpretation of it because he hates himself

That's why Aqua frames Kamiki as being punished for "not understanding her"

Because if he really, truly understood Ai like he said, why would he be so comfortable assuming for nearly 20 years that she would have meant something that cruel?

Thanks Claire!! Saving the fandom one translation at a time.

[shouldhavebeenpersephone]

In GTN chapter 36, Cytherea says “None of you have learned how to die gracefully. I learned over 10,000 years ago"

Do you know/have a theory as to how Cyth could have learned anything pre-resurrection? She was not one of the original lyctors present for the resurrection and it was only 10,000 years ago. It could be hyperbole but I am suspicious of the “over 10,000 years”.

Thank you so much for the ask! I wanted to take my time with it, I hope you didn't mind the wait.

I actually had been chewing on this with my most recent GtN reread. Bear with me as I cut and paste all the pieces that form my thoughts on this - hopefully it's somewhat coherent to read.

Could "over 10000 years" be a hyperbole? Maybe. A lot of characters tell the 'truth' as far as they believe it to be so even if it's factually incorrect. I don't think, however, that Tamsyn would make Cytherea say it in this specific way if it was a hyperbole. In GtN chapter 35 where Palamedes confronts Cytherea we get the following lines, which are what feed my intuition about this:

"Don't lie to me, please."

Dulcinea said, "I have never lied to any of you."

Cytherea has no reason to lie, especially not after being confronted by Palamedes. She tells him herself - she has been giving pieces of the truth and using those to manipulate the narrative. Because of this and because it's much more fun if it isn't a hyperbole I see no point to dismiss it as an emotional inaccuracy.

So let's say she is over 10,000 years old. How does that work?

First thing I went looking for while trying to figure this out was the question of Cytherea's birth. On the fandom wiki, it states that Cytherea was born into the established Seventh. I have been combing through the books, and I cannot find anything in canon that truly confirms this. What we do know of the timeline and her age is the following from HtN chapter 9:

"When they first brought her to Canaan House, I thought there'd been some mistake. - She was just shy of thirty then, I recall. -

-Was she the first gen, or second?"

"Second," said God. "Early second. We were still experimenting with getting the Sixth installation up and running. Some of the Houses were empty."

Mercymorn spoke up: "No. We had it running by then. Because Valancy was with us, and Anastasia."

-"Yes, you're right. We were all there to meet her. All sixteen of us -

'Some of the houses were empty' is the important line here, because in NtN John 5:4 Harrow describes how the resurrection happened:

-You resurrected some of them. You wake up fewer still. You start out with a few thousand, then, later, some hundred thousand, then millions, but never more than millions. You teach them how to live all over again. You teach yourself. -

The houses are named in order of resurrection. The Seventh, then, comes after the Sixth, which should make it obvious that by the time Cytherea arrived the Sixth was already established - or the Seventh wouldn't have existed. Yet, for some reason, for John this is not as obvious. I have found what could be an explanation in HtN chapter 2:

He said, "No. I haven't truly resurrected anyone in ten thousand years. But at that time... I set many aside, for safety... and I've often felt bad about just keeping them as insurance. They've been asleep all this myriad, Harrow, -

The difference wouldn't be as obvious to John, because he didn't resurrect the houses one by one. He resurrected a chunk of the earth's population, kept them dormant, and piece by piece woke them up to populate the houses. Beyond the fact that Cytherea is never said to have been born on the Seventh in canon (again, to my knowledge - please correct me if I missed it), the following from HtN chapter 2 really seals the deal in my eyes that she was not born on the Seventh but rather woken up for the Seventh.

The emperor said gently, "She needs to go home, Harrow."

"That was never her home," he said.

You did not look. "And will the Seventh House accept her?"

I also considered John might feel Cytherea belongs at home with the other Lyctors and therefore denies that the Seventh is her home, but then remembered the following from the same chapter:

He said, "No Lyctor has ever returned home, once we understood the reprecussions... no Lyctor except one, who knew I would come to intercept her for that very reason."

He is talking about how Harrow cannot go home to the Ninth, and referring to Cytherea going home by returning to Canaan house located on earth. John also talks about the kind of people he resurrected in NtN John 5:4:

-We'll get them all back... some of them, anyway... or at least, the ones I want to bring back. Anyone I feel didn't do it. Anyone I feel had no part in it. Anyone I can look at the face of and forgive. -

Part of the same chapter I included above in combination with this one make me itchy almost. Harrow says 'You teach them how to live all over again.' That almost feels like it should be people who recently learned how to live. Like John only resurrected kids.

Think about it. He resurrects his loved ones and ones he can forgive. People who did not take part in the destruction of earth in his eyes. Who other than children could he really be talking about? Children, babies, who have no power to decide or influence to exert, who - even if they did have the power - do not have the capacity to understand the consequences of their actions. Whose memories will be easiest to erase because there is so little to begin with.

It then also makes sense why there were two generations of Lyctors. The population he woke up had to grow up into adults first. Why else would he have half a band of Lyctors trying to settle all of the Houses? If he was able to pick adults worthy of resurrection, he would have been able to pick adults capable of establishing his houses and becoming his hands and gestures.

One final point that drives this home is the following from the very beginning of GtN in chapter 7 when Teacher tells the Ninth about Dulcinea's condition:

"Dulcinea Septimus was not meant to live to twenty-five,"-

Dulcinea's hereditary disease is the same as Cytherea's. John did not know she was sick when she first was brought to Canaan house, which means that when he resurrected her, she must have been young enough to not be actively dying yet. Perhaps a toddler or a child who had been sick for some time - long enough to know what it feels like to slowly be dying.

So, all in all, my answer is that Cytherea was not born on the Seventh. I am not sure where the idea that the second generation was born on their planets of origin came from, but I honestly doubt any of them were born instead of woken. Cytherea claiming to have learned something 10,000 years ago would be a great way for Tamsyn to give us just enough to figure it out - this is, after all, the same author who gave us the big reveal of the second book in the first sentence of the first book of her series.

[once-upon-helluvaboss]

Rewrite of the end of 'The Harvest Moon Festival'

Stella sat in an office, presumably her’s, breathing heavily, her glowing pink eyes staring down at her electronic phone. She stared at Stolas’s name typed in the search bar; she repeatedly refreshed the page before scrolling and then refreshing again.

She scrolled to bottom the page ready to refresh it again before she saw it, an article from the wrath ring. Her eyes widened with excitement seeing Stolas’s name, until she read the rest of it. ‘Goetia Prince Stolas professes love for imp dick?!?!’ in big bold letters. She clicked the headline quickly, skimming through the article, the website was terribly made, so many misspellings she assumed whatever imp had pulled it together favourite colour was red.

“I expect nothing more from those imps…” Stella hissed gripping the phone tighter, however considering it was an imp she doubted anyone would believe a word they said. “If they could even read it!” She cackled, ready to disregard the article I mean who would even take it seriously? Even with Stolas’s recent behaviour she doubted he would do something that outlandish. He was a cheater not an idiot, right?

She chuckled ready to exit out of the page until she saw a video attached, her eyes widened in horror as she clicked it. The video was clearly recorded on a shotty camera but it was still easy to tell it was Stolas, her breathing became unsteady as he listened to her husband talk about some imps dick. And more importantly he wasn't dead.

She replayed the video over and over as she felt herself becoming overtaken with rage, the tips of her fingers covered in a pink flame as she scratched at her desk. She slammed the phone down, surely breaking the screen as an imp Butler peeked his head in the door.

“I’m sorry but, didn't your mother teach you how to knock!?” She seethed, snapping her head toward the imp.

The imp gave a comically loud gulp, as he entered the room walking over to Stella her rotary phone on a platter in his hand, “Apologies miss,” the imp started readjusting his collar averting his eyes from Stella’s rage filled gaze. “But it's an urgent call for you, so I came as soon as I heard it-” The phone rang before he could finish.

Stella’s eyes softened a bit at his explanation, silently beckoning him over, the imp did just that walking until he was right next to her.

Stella grabbed the phone bringing it to her ear, the disgruntled voice of Striker the assassin she had hired came on, “Listen ma’am there's been a complication…” Striker started,

“You failed.” Stella said in a tone a lot calmer than Striker expected.

“I-i know ma’am I-”

“I had to pay you extra because of your ‘spouse fee' and this is the service I get?!” Stella screeched over the phone.

Striker pulled the phone away from his ear as he yelled, “I know I know, I’ll discount you on tha’ final payment. But don't worry ma'am… it won’t happen again.” Striker assured

Stella drummed her fingers on the already charred table, “It better not! I want that cheating prick dead!” Stella growled, her hand engulfed in flames again. “I don’t care who or what you have to go through, MAKE IT HAPPEN!” Stella yelled, practically incinerating a large chunk of her desk, as Striker pulled the phone away from his ear once again.

“Am I clear?” Stella said her voice shaking with rage as she smashed her fist into the table, falling back into her chair.

“Very,” Striker responds, Stella huffs in satisfaction, as she drops the phone onto the receiver.

“I’ll get next him time” Striker grins as he sits on the bed in the crappy motel he is stationed at. He chuckles, shutting off the light in the room hissing to himself as he plots his next move.

The imp next to Stella gulped again as she seethed , “Um also, miss dinner is ready and your hus-” He faked a cough as Stella’s eyes shifted towards him, “Your daughter requested you join them,” The imp butler said softly.

Stella grumbled to herself ready to decline Octavia’s request not wanting to see Stolas that evening, “She was also hoping to show you an outfit she had gotten after word!” The butler added

Stella sighed, “I suppose I have nothing better to do…" She replied, rising from her seat, the butler gave a small smile setting down the rotary phone into Stella’s desk. He rushed to the door holding it open while he held the platter under his arm, as Stella silently excited without uttering another word.

_______________________________________________

And another one finished! Again this is a short one, while I guess I didn't mind the original episode I had issues.

For one I feel like revealing that Stolas was just sitting there while she was saying all this and not reacting took away from the fear factor. Any real fear for Stolas's safety was taken away from the audience which makes it difficult to take both Stella and Striker seriously. So here I changed that, meaning at this point in the story while Stolas has his suspicions, he doesn't know for sure it was Stella who called the hit.

I also added the thing with Octavia because these two have had zero interaction in the show, so I wanted to characterize their relationship a bit more.

Also yes, I will eventually get around to fixing the formatting on the circus rewrite, I actually did a few days ago but it didn't save :').

[ouabhs]

acftl review (finally)

I give it a 3 ⭐️ (as much as it pains me) even then it’s only this high bc I love evajacks so much

so I was finally able to gather my thoughts into one post and while there were many things I enjoyed a few others didn’t sit right..

1. the whole story curse thing.. it makes sense that the story curse would twist things which is why some things were left unexplained but it doesn’t feel like it was done deliberately?? it just felt like stephanie genuinely didn’t know how to tie some things together.. like sure not every single thing needs an explanation but she emphasised certain things wayyy too much in the first two books for them to be completely ignored for example evajacks talking to each other in their minds. Even the broken heart scar wasn’t addressed again after like halfway through acftl

2. too much apollo.. sorry this is not even just me being biased or whatever like I do agree his pov helped explain the plot from a different perspective but he got wayyy more of a backstory and a conclusion to his character than jacks for a someone that wasn’t as present in the last 2 books.. and this was supposed to be jacks’ series kinda (ik it was evangelines too) but I feel like jacks got sidelined hard and that’s disappointing. It also didn’t help that whenever there was an intense scene between evajacks the pov would switch to apollo.. to be fair I think having 3 povs was just hard to execute in general

3. the kiss scene.. usually it would not be a big deal but it’s a big part of jacks character that he can’t kiss girls without killing them idk I thought him finally getting to kiss evangeline would be a lot more… grand? they barely got a page or any detail and then the next chapter was “once upon a time there was kissing and more kissing 🥰🥰” which was even more underwhelming. Even apollo and evangelines kiss scenes were longer and more detailed and they got multiple

4. the overall vibe of the 3rd book felt very different to the first two I couldn’t put my finger on it at first but I feel like it had something to do with the writing.. at some parts it felt familiar (like all the descriptions and the fairytale aspects) but others it just felt different?

5. during too many scenes it just felt like stephanie was rewriting tbona.. like I haven’t really seen anyone say this yet but a good chunk of the book was quotes from tbona which I feel took up a lot of unnecessary space and could’ve been used to develop other plots or characters? Literally someone that hasn’t read tbona could get a gist of what happened cause it’s all summarised in there 😭

6. the plot in general.. contrary to popular belief I don’t think this was that romance focused (as people claim as to why things weren’t explained) because I think stephanie incorporated more plot in here but it was just different to what we saw in the last books because previous characters (luc, marisol, tiberius, kristof) weren’t as present in this book and new characters plots and explanations were just thrown in.. not much felt connected

7. jacks’ backstory.. (going back to my second point) how he became a fate was really glossed over I feel and was only briefly mentioned but I just wanted more.. I do like the fact that he said he did it for chaos and I wish their friendship was delved into more because he literally turned to immortality because his friend would be alone. What about his parents? His friendship with Lyric? The merrywood three in general? His life when he was trapped in the card?

8. the first fox.. again wayy too significant to be missed out especially since jacks doesn’t really remember whether or not he had a thing for her and chaos said evangeline was similar to her.. how was there no link?

I definitely have more to add but for now my main takeaway is that while tbona was very hard to top I feel like acftl could’ve been so much more especially since it was set up so well.. I think so many people are disappointed because it doesn’t hold up as well for the last book in a series but I’m just glad evajacks got their happy ending 🫠

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hey I dunno if you’ve gotten this before but. Do you have anything on autism and DID/OSDD? Specifically resources or accounts and such (since I’ve seen the positivity post)

I struggle with emotional dysregulation, big memory issues (huge chunks of childhood and adolescence missing, forgetting things constantly, dissociating emotions from memories, etc,) frequent daydreaming/spacing out/dissociation, that type of thing (and a bit more that’s a little too complicated to explain in an ask lol)

I’ve always kind of figured it was just part of me being autistic (I’m professionally diagnosed and definitely very autistic regardless lol), but I’ve recently gone down a bit of a rabbit hole relating to plurality and now I’m wondering if it could be a symptom of DID/OSDD instead/as well (I was originally looking at something else and stumbled into the tags somehow. The original thing that led me here was foxes. I think. And then I had a bit of a panic as I realized how some of the symptoms were VERY close to some of my experiences. Especially the memories.) but i also can’t tell if it’s just some sort of brain fog(???? Is that the correct term?) / alexithymia / Unknown Autism Trait 3 that nobody ever talks about and is difficult to find any sort of explanation or resources for. And my brain protested and had the equivalent of being on the verge of a sobbing meltdown or mental overload of some sort when I tried to think about stuff relevant to the topic so I don’t think it’s going to be of much help to me right now.

obviously not asking for diagnosis or to self diagnose at all (since. I understand you cant really do either of those /lh /nm) but I’m curious if any of you know of any resources relating to this specific type of stuff? I feel like I’d go insane trying to find any info on it. (And also I don’t think my brain would want to cooperate if I asked it to because it basically shuts down, gives me a headache, and turns to a pathetic wet sobbing cat whenever I try to think about the possibility so I doubt I’ll be identifying as anything anytime soon but. I want some stuff to think over at least.)

hey, we also are autistic and have dissociative identity disorder. unfortunately, there isn’t really too much research on the overlap between autism and complex dissociative disorder diagnoses at this time, that we know of, but we do think that autistic people may have a higher likelihood of dissociating and developing a cdd than neurotypical people.

we really love mike lloyd’s work at the ctad clinic, and he has an insightful video on the intersection of autism and dissociation here:

here is an open access paper by katherine e. reuben and ayden parish on dissociation as a symptom in autism - it’s an interesting read and wasn’t too difficult for us to parse:

also, here are a couple life experience pieces by folks with both did and autism:

our own autism has contributed to our trauma history in how we were treated, formed attachment, and understood the world as a child. for our own system, our autism and our did are inextricably linked. we are certain that many other autistic systems feel the same.

if exploring this possibility for yourself is causing you great distress, it may be for the best to put this off to the side for now until you have reached a point with more stability or a greater support system in your life. please don’t overwhelm or cause yourself harm by looking into this possibility on your own, if it is unhealthy for you.

if you are in therapy or have a mental health professional in your life who you trust, this would be an excellent thing to bring up to them. though hopefully these resources can help you get started learning about this topic if you have the spoons/ability to do so.

we are no medical expert or research professional, but we are happy to talk more about our personal experience of being both autistic and a did system if anyone would be interested. best of luck to you, anon, with figuring this out. we know how confusing and challenging it can be!

[meebles]

I just read Hear the Silence in Your Head so I would love anything you would like to share about or from that!

Ahhh I am SO so happy that you've read that one, thank you so much!! <3

I apologize for not updating it recently as I've been busy with event deadlines, but I think about it all the time and I have a good chunk of chapter 3 written already so I hope to publish that relatively soon!

(If anyone else is interested, this is my 'Cody with a malfunctioning inhibitor chip' AU which can be found on Ao3 here)

One thing that I'm very excited for is a pivotal scene I have planned out which will feature Shaak Ti being a total badass, and will be written in her POV. I don't want to spoil it too much but given that it's an inhibitor chip AU I'm sure you can make some guesses as to what goes down there :) but I've yet to write her and she's one of my faves, so I'm very much looking forward to it!

Unrelated to that, please have this small snippet of the next chapter, as well as my undying gratitude <3

“ …Looks like we’ve found it. Same place as the Commander’s. Just no tumor.” Obi-Wan closes his eyes, and tries to wrest away the encroaching, bitter numbness that threatens to consume him. He hoped, genuinely, that there wasn’t a truly nefarious explanation for everything. But this war has never once sat right with him, not since he’d stepped foot on a missing planet and was greeted with a “We’ve been expecting you.” He’s terrified, honestly and absolutely, over what they’re going to find in those chips. What the Kaminoans were so clearly invested in keeping secret.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I've asked myself many times over the course of three years about how would I react to information that comes to contradict a specific image I have about people. And the answer would differ, more or less, depending on a myriad of factors, such as my mental wellbeing, my attitude toward the fandom, the group, the members, etc. The truth is, I only knew how I would respond the moment it happens and I was pleasantly surprised in a way. I see it as a sign that I'm doing better or at least I'm on the path of doing better.

These are things that I didn't want to allow to come to surface in the way I used to handle the BTM blog. Perhaps because the point was to create a platform in which I could offer the rational, researched perspective which I considered to be the correct one. I'm not retracting any of that. I still believe that it is possible to offer a more complex perspective if I can back it up with knowledge from various fields, but it was also one of my defense mechanisms.

Without expanding on the personal reasons, it has become very easy for me to separate my rational and emotional side. So much, that even when I should be staying in the moment and let my emotions take space, I can't really do it, I need to come up with a rational explanation so it can make sense. I then applied this to BTS as well. I couldn't just say I like this group when someone would ask, I would have to tell them about all the studies I read and how my fascination is mostly intelectual, when in truth it was both. I used to talk about jikook only in the context of analysis, be it GCF through semiotics or various types of interpretations when it came to their performances or fandom reception in terms of their dynamics. It had to be in the context of rational fascination and curiosity because I was merely trying to justify myself on why I care that much about two strangers that I look at on my phone. Again, my intellectual curiosity is real, but that has always been only one side if the coin, but it was one that I pushed.

It's about shame actually. I can't actually accept that I have such an interest. It doesn't fit with the idea I have of myself. And sometimes I don't like it because it makes me question my intellect, my critical thinking. How can I be so good academically and at the same time I fear that I've fallen into a fandom trap? I'm smart, right? Right?

I'm sure a lot of people have dealt with or ar going through this process of cognitive dissonance. How does one deal with the mere idea that something they believe in based on their understanding of the world, their ability of decoding (not in a conspiracy sense, but in a Saussurean way) can turn out to be wrong? We see something that resembles a specific behavior that we are surrounded with our entire lives, sometimes we ourselves engage with, but we've identified it wrong on others? Of course, it's through the visual medium, one that is edited. It's a puzzle with large chunks missing, but we're getting a general idea of it. But we can be wrong. So how do we deal with that? Well, I don't have a correct answer.

Me in 2020/2021 would have been more affected because my mental health was not good. I was functionally depressed and I clinged so much onto BTS, Jikook and the small community that I found myself in at that time, that I would have felt a lot more torn than I am now.

A couple of years later and having to actually go through a situation in which my understanding of people's relationship might not be accurate, I realized I'm fine. And I think it's because it made me really register just now that I finally learned how to have fun with it. It took me three years. By having fun, I mean genuinely being able to simply enjoy the little things. I'm still on the path of not being ashamed for liking kpop or spending time talking about the dynamic/relationship of two people.

What prompted this post was reading what is currently being written in the jikook tag. Yes, I had this big introductory chunk that perhaps people won't bother reading, but I'm doing it for myself. If I can't be honest while writing stuff into the void for strangers to read, then what is the point?

I get frustrated very easily. I like debates and contradictory points of view, but not always. And that's because I like to be right. Almost all the time. So when I see something that I believe it lacks logic or I find it absurd, then my fingers are itching. I don't comment or DM people, I can control myself. I'd rather get out of the app and do something else.

What I want to say is I was surprised at how much fanfiction is being written. More that usual. Shipping contains a big deal of fanfiction by its nature. Gestures and events taking place at different times are interpreted and having information added that fills the gaps. People do that because they have to make sense of what they see.

They like to make relationship timelines. They speculate on first kisses and first sexual experiences. That's their imagination. None of us has any way of knowing. The element of fiction is heighted when people feel like they are losing control of the narrative. When they are unsure of what they are seeing. Which is what usually happens in the shipping community on a yearly basis. Anons flooding the bloggers' inboxes because they need confirmation or they didn't get any ship content in a month or two which means something is wrong.

There's this understanding that the shipper/supporter is delusional while the one who stops shipping is the rational one. From what I've observed throughout time and mostly now, that is a false distinction. The so-called rational fan makes use of fiction just as the shipper. The difference is in purpose. One talks about why the supposed romantic relationship is real and the other tries to refute that. But both categories seem to need fiction in order to build their arguments. That is because none of them have access to someone's private life and relationship, so the gaps need to be filled with speculation. There is no right or wrong version here, despite how much the idea is being pushed. And me writing about this won't make a difference. It's simply how the fandom works. The one who position themselves on the side of anti-delulu will always be seen as the less crazy one. The similarities will fade for the collective consciousness of the fandom.

I think it's difficult for a lot of people, regardless on which side they find themselves on, to accept that the option of simply not knowing is enough as well. Or knowing, but without getting anal about it. But it's hard and they write posts after posts, anons are sending asks over asks because there has to be a firm answer. Only a few allow themselves to be in between lines.

I'll bring back something that I always used to say. Shipping and involvement in the fandom is a lot more about us and less about the people we're talking about. It's about fullfiling some needs, of needing a community, of focusing on the idea of love. Those things can still be done in a way that still makes the experience enjoyable. But not everyone can and I'm not blaming it.

There's a way to just like how people behave with each other and imagine things without adding so much weight to it. Regardless of the true nature. It's our imagination, there's no need for a moral inquisition to tell anyone how to think or that they should stop thinking a certain way. Touching some grass is a cliche and an expression I ended up hating, but I do believe that being connected to discourse on a daily basis can really alter our sense of reality and what we consider to be real issues. We really should pay more attention to that and take some distance if necessary.