#I don't owe them shit or answers or effort

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 5

[prompt: face sitting]

male reader x ahn yujin

3.5k words

Yujin is giving you shit when it happens.

It’s been a little over an hour since she turned to you, bored and pouty about it, and asked if you wanted to fuck again.

She gives you shit in the way only the prettiest girls can get away with. Perfect smile, like she's innocent. And all low and breathy in her throat. Hitched around the vowels of your name. Threatening enough that you thought about just immediately capitulating. It was tempting. 

"Or you could stay on the floor like a lame loser bummin’ around in your pajamas." She leans up on the arm of the sofa. "Either way."

Yujin stretches and her sweater is huge. One of those cozy campus crewnecks that everybody seems to have, oversized and inviting and right. Her shorts are ridiculously small, just enough of her stomach peeking out over her waistband for you to want to feel it, touch it, have the pleasure of sinking your tongue into the shallow groove.

She's teasing you because she never quite knows what to do with her energy. Lacks an outlet big enough, really, but is also selfishly delighted in getting any response at all, no matter how halfhearted it might be. You stare at her. You watch and don't speak when she runs her fingers up her stomach to pull her sweater up with it. You groan. She grins. She is pretty, her lips full and eyes soft. The laugh that follows her is because it's always obvious when she's won and you wish your body wasn't so prone to giving away your weaknesses.

"Hey." She blinks slowly, lifting one leg up. Her bare foot, warm, toes flexed, against your thigh, nudges against you once, and again.

"How many orgasms until I feel a little more forgiving towards my good friend who, I know, is super super sorry that he can't afford the pizza money because he chose to use his own allowance to do something as silly as pay rent, I wonder?"

"I paid half last time."

"Doesn't make sense because you ate it all.

"You said you weren't hungry." You start to object because you do have an objection. A list, actually, prepared, of instances you think you're owed. But Yujin arches, and when a separate but related complaint rises swiftly to the foreground, your throat goes dry -

"Orgasm tax."

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” she asks, and you’re struggling to answer truthfully, honestly.

She rolls over, lets you see everything she has, the tiniest shorts in the world tugged even higher, the generous curve of her ass and thighs in silhouette. You didn't ask for this but you weren’t about to die without it, you think, looking up from the floor and staring, wetting your lips, absolutely sure. She does it all on her own and it takes an absurd amount of effort to peel your hands off the ground.

"Stay where you are," she snaps, seeing it too - and in a second of deliberate slowness, hooks two fingers into her shorts, tugging them aside before looming over you. "Or you're not fucking me today. At all."

You let your head thud down against the rug beneath you. "That's not fair."

"You've gotta come up with something better than that. You could suck up, beg, maybe I'd forgive you if you just told me how much better I was than the cash I could use on literally whatever."

Your eyes cut down.

Part of you wonders if you've always been such an easy mark - whether being here has changed you, if all these months of dangling carrots in front of you are paying off or if you're just a willing accomplice to your own exploitation.

Part of you isn't stupid. Yujin's taken an almost disturbing amount of pleasure in flaunting herself since the first night you drank too much, said too much, resisted too little - you can tell the way it starts, a smile toying in the corner of her mouth, before she taps the band of her bra, waits to hear you swallow - to hear how hot you get - before she casually asks what it would take, "to convince you", to change the conversation from whether she wants something from the vending machine, or she just forgot it was laundry day, or where the hell that note from Wonyoung had gone, to what she'd like the answer to be. What would you let her do if it got you another chance to get under her shirt, see her all bared, eyes dark and hair like a veil across her collarbones, pretty nipples and swells of her breasts pushed up, until you put your mouth on her.

Yujin tilts her hips so it's easier for you to follow, her hand snaking beneath her body as she speaks. A gentle grunt gets muffled in her sweater, her toes curling into the space between your knees and it hurts, stings a little, the desire you're holding back, and then it goes right through you like fire, sharp.

(Part of you is incredibly stupid - but you think the truth is it doesn't matter.)

Yujin's kneeling over your chest, and her bottom lip, plump and lush, catches between her teeth. "Can you think of anyway to be useful?"

"A lot," you choke. It's true.

Yujin makes a noise. "Proof. Evidence. Put up."

The movement she makes - twisting of legs and stomach flexing and the fabric of her shorts down off her ankles - is one single, fluid motion and for a second you're distracted by how quickly she's gotten you there. Thighs resting over your shoulders, the only thing your lungs seem to remember how to do is want.

"Come on." She bounces her knees a bit. "Dick or mouth, get going."

You should really say something smart, show her how clever and charming you can be, how you've actually got a lot to show the hottest girl in the world - and sometimes Yujin giggles like she's shocked  about it all herself, but right now her eyebrows are raising, expectant and challenging and it makes it difficult to think when there's an open invitation inches away for you to bury yourself in. Your lips feel like sandpaper when you kiss the inside of her thigh. Her hips stutter and drop an inch as your tongue works its way out, thick and obscene and it shouldn't be so thrilling to hear her so low, so urgent when you have no say, really, in how this is going to go -

"Take care of me, yeah?" she practically whispers the words - all while your fingertips drag along her outer thighs until her spine straightens, gets her shoulders pushed back, her breathing louder, somehow, as if you couldn't feel her need without knowing already exactly what you can do for her.

And the most honest thing you could say in the moment, because Yujin has her panties stretched to the side, revealing the inviting creases where her long legs meet her hips - for god’s sake, her pussy is right fucking there, inches in front of you; glistening slightly in her own slick and looking so, so pretty - the words get kissed right into the curve of her thigh: "It's not fair."

The look she gives you makes it worth it. "Excuse me?"

"You asked, didn't you. It's not fair that your pussy's so good that I can't think about anything else."

She huffs, her thighs shaking just a little with the effort of staying put. "So, what," and your mouth closes in, kiss deep, your nose pressed in right at the peak of her folds, her entrance, and you try not to drool as you inhale and drag the flat of your tongue in, hard, where she's desperate for you, "you think this should all go in reverse or something, like I should worship your dick until you stop being a useless perv - "

But the insult dies in her throat. A moan comes out instead, harsh, deep, loud and enough that Yujin slaps her palm over her own mouth before throwing an impatient scowl down at you.

Here's what you'd tell her, if you weren't busy licking circles into the ache leaking from her core, eating her cunt like a starving man, if you had the audacity. Yujin can't control herself. Doesn't help that she's sloppy. When her orgasm hits she will get louder and she doesn't even like the things that come out. That's the thing about Yujin, really. She says all this shit, and really, in the end, she wants a good fuck so bad she can't keep her mouth shut, but the noises she makes are exactly the same as the sounds that you choke on -

Because as pretty and easy and fun to kiss as she can be, the absolute best thing about your relationship is that the more orgasms she gets the less she can breathe, much less control what the fuck she's saying to you. It's cute and hilarious and beautiful, when she forgets, when she gives everything up because in the end it's never any competition, the way she fucks, is so desperate. Her hips work themselves into your grip, over and over and over again, like they are meant for this. 

For getting off on your mouth alone.

All you know right now is that with the way you have your hands on her - one still holding her panties open and the other squeezed tight around the muscle of her outer thigh - it's like her clit's directly in line with the back of your throat. If you press your lips around her pussy and hold them firm, just like the way her knees are starting to tighten around your face, she's going to come. It will hurt her and it will leave her completely boneless, and you've fucked this much to the point where you have learned, well, she can never complain.

Not that she would. The slick dripping down your cheeks and throat and down to the front of your shirt - it's fucking everywhere - makes it obvious: any ability to talk is replaced with her just grinding her pussy against you, bucking and shouting, riding and writhing until you decide her pretty little pink slit can have another taste. 

Her only other option, really, is clenching and throbbing and cumming as hard as she can all over your waiting tongue.

"Hey. Get your fucking mouth back down," she breathes, taking her fingers out of her cunt and then promptly pushing your head back in, "and - uhnn, I - yeah, exactly. Mmmnghh - "

You smile, muffled and hot against the fabric of her thighs, her fingers twisting in the hair behind your ears and tugging firmly. "Oh."

"What did you want again?" she asks - except her body tells a different story, all flushed and keening and, fuck, absolutely soaked from your touch - she rocks against the base of your chin, slumping and dropping down and letting gravity do its work. You work your tongue over her throbbing clit, again, again, and Yujin moans loudly. So pleased.

Just this mess she's made of you. The smell that coats your nose, and chin, the way it feels when she ruts her whole body against the place where she's worked the hardest. Her breath stalls where you start to breathe in, and looking up at the cinched look in her face you press further.

It’s every little circle lick and lave and gentle nudge of the tip of your nose, where the feeling makes her cry out, where the sensation, overstimulated, is close to that perfect balance between too much and not quite enough, all while working your fingers into the swell of her ass, and finally her hips make small, greedy, selfish thrusts into your mouth.

She sobs for you. You sigh, contented, because you don't even need to ask.

"You're so fucking good," she murmurs, heel of her palm pushed into her eyes like she's struggling with a headache. "God, fuck, do that again."

It's so wet on your chin already, but you do it again, just for the way she bucks into it.

You give her the closest thing you have, your thumb riding the rim of her ass, tongue rubbing, stroking her pussy faster. Yujin's teeth work against the insides of her mouth as her hips shift forward, and she is clenching and begging for the cock you know would make her scream if you just stood her on her hands and fucked her from behind - it's such a cruel way of making her work to feel so fucking amazing - but you're here to indulge, and really, when she shivers and pleads the exact way she does, your mouth still full, how are you supposed to do anything besides fucking obey.

Yujin reaches up to grab onto the edge of the couch, anything to brace herself as her cunt sloppily gets wetter. The thickest part of your tongue is good enough for this. Everything about her clit is just this dull, swollen throb. Begging to be worked over the way you're licking at the entrance to her pussy, inside and all, kissing, sucking, kneading, pulling, - fucking her just right - until she starts fucking cursing up a storm.

"Oh god, god, oh fuck fuck, fuck," her hips shift until she's the only one riding, the only one fucking. Until you just get to lay there with your lips slack, drooling open, hands a frame for her entire body while she works your face, and nothing could be better - "yeah, oh, fuck, fuck yes - yeah - fuck, hahhh. You're going to make me fucking cum-"

And you almost say it: that's your line - it's not enough, you'll never have enough of her cunt - her clit or the slit, where she leaks, thick and sticky. Her slick tastes heavy on your tongue, and you can't swallow fast enough. Your fingers are so deep into the pliable skin of her ass - digging and needy and reaching for where she's tightest. Her hands pull sharply at your hair. You feel her, tightening her ass around your finger, cumming wet across your cheekbones and -

It goes on, her body pressing into you, until with a sudden snap of a cry, she cums.

“God, fuck-”

If Yujin doesn't have to see the look on your face after getting her off this hard, it's only because the pressure in her body has her knees across your eyes forced shut. A spasm clenches, almost rhythmic, through her thighs, and god, Yujin just cums her brains out. It's pretty hot. You make it count: pushing your fingers just as deep into her pussy, working, exploring - right as her whole body is tensing and coming apart and your other hand circles, two fingers, dipping down and through the cleft of her ass and into her tightest, hottest hole -

You know better than to rub at her entrance once the ripples and waves start - instead, it's more pressure.

Pushing up as deep as you can and your lips mouthing at her folds while her hips squirm for something harder, something stronger and with intent - like, maybe, if she thinks she is trying to push away, she will start to believe that the mess running from her hole isn't hers. It's yours. All that liquid heat pooling below her and what could ever make sense other than she needs more? She needs the way she trembles and shakes, the way her pussy weeps as you wring it for the pleasure that's well on its way -

You always feel like an idiot after, stupid with how much you enjoy this, what she gives you, but how could it be anything but fantastic, your vision dizzying when it swims from lightheadedness and the lack of oxygen to your brain. Yujin's holding you right where she needs, right between her thighs and next to perfection, just tight enough for you to groan, to make a low whine build in the back of your throat and that gets her, too.

There is the rush and a wave, the heat, of something that crests and breaks in her that has to match the absolute loss of control she seems to have all along - the only part you feel you are sure about is that Yujin always rides her cunt - all dripping lips and aching holes, swollen and flaring and practically begging to be fucked harder and more thoroughly - into every orgasm she's taken from you, until there's no where to run.

Even through your nose, and you're suffocating, her legs trembling with the rush of it all. You're gasping and shaking but she's shaking apart and you need that: to feel her melt from where her body collapses all its weight onto you and the way the aftershocks have to make it seem, at least for a moment, that she’ll never, ever recover.

"Fuck," Yujin sighs, "I fucking hate you."

(Translation: she can't fucking live without you.)

"Any time," you murmur and her entire body falls into you, straddled across your chest and slumped there, sweaty and spent. Your heart beats the moment, trying to remember when it was you could stop feeling this way about your roommate.

A part of you believes that, once upon a time, before all of this started, that your desire, your lust was rooted in seeing a friend who was beyond hot and simply unavailable.

A bigger part of you knows that asking for clarity isn't the point - because maybe, right now, in the way your hand has started massaging the soft skin under the curve of her spine, you should realize you can't live with it never happening again.

"What's my balance," you ask, rubbing your thumb into the crook behind her knee.

"Mm?"

You exhale.

"Two. I think you're good for two."

You laugh. "For real?"

She stretches.

"Or I suppose we can go for four or five, but that means you're paying for dinner, too." Yujin does this thing with her hair when she's excited. Swings it back, smiling wide.

Which is fair, you think, given the pulse between your legs throbbing and twitching as you picture it: the curve of Yujin's waist and the drop of her lower back, her bare ass. Her soaked little slit that can't help but beg to fucked and fucked and fucked, until she's trembling and quivering and leaking-

"Then I'm gonna eat," you promise her, "every last inch. Going to taste you and swallow."

Yujin shifts, sitting astride you.

You hum. "Still interested."

She simply kisses you - breathes you in - tasting herself on your lips and tongue, before leaning back with her palms flat against your chest and taking it slow as she starts to ease you into the kind of sex that doesn't leave either one of you with a throat quite so raw and dry.

So it's quiet in your apartment, just for a little while, when the afternoon starts to settle in and she rolls back onto her heels, not able to support the rest of her. You fuck her deep and it's amazing how quickly you both fall into rhythm. Yujin's clutching hard on either side of your hips. Folding herself back. Trying, by the end, to bury you where her fingers have been.

By the time she gets herself up on the couch, belly flat against the cushions and her hips arched back as she fucks herself with the length of your dick, you're just desperate. Aching in a way you know will happen any moment and even so, you can't even bring yourself to consider stopping because this is perfect - it's everything, really. To push her down, hold her still, and fuck her so thoroughly that she cries and shudders as you spill into her.

To have her.

Yujin holds a part of yourself so tender, something you have kept close for far too long, and watching her with her arm reached behind herself, clutching blindly with her fingers, as her moans go quiet with just these whimpery, little things, a thought occurs to you, of exactly how dangerous your roommate is -

Because with you fucking into her like this, this is more than sex ought to be. More than it’s ever been.

(More dangerous yet is thinking: maybe - perhaps - it is exactly what Yujin wanted, from the start.)

[luna-rainbow]

Thanks again for answering my ask and sorry to bombard you with these.

I absolutely agree with you about Bucky and Zemo on TFatWS. This might be long as I have so many thoughts about this. The series seems to fail to understand T'Calla wasn't just someone who helped Bucky although he was of course. He was his friend. The movies don't get everything right with Bucky but I think Bucky and T'Calla's relationship is one of the high points. We don't see them much but when you do you can tell Bucky respected T'Calla immensely and not just because he's a King. He seems to be really genuinely fond of Shuri as well, asking her to call him Bucky instead of the formal Sargeant Barnes.

I know I said it before, but the Wakandans are his friends/his protectors/his adoptive family. He is not just some white guy with colonialist arrogance who expects favours from the African State. If anything its the other way around- he fought because he felt he owed T'Calla and his family a debt.

As such- I do not think he would ever have helped the person who killed T'Callas father. Yes he didn't know T'Chaka, but that is his friend's father. Its like if he found out someone killed Steve's mother and worked with them. Like slapping his friend in the face, and I can't see him doing that.

Also, finally can we talk about how the show robbed us of the emotional impact of T'Challa's death on Bucky? He's sad about Steve leaving but I firmly believe would have grieved for T'Calla too. He's lost not one but two of his best friends within a very short space of time, so he's got grief alongside all his other problems to deal with. Don't know how that man managed to stay sane. Well relatively sane and didn't have a complete breakdown.

Thanks for all the asks!

I love the idea that T'Challa and Bucky had a strong bond. I agree I think Ryan Coogler intended in that short post-credit scene to show that Wakandans have accepted Bucky as part of the family.

The kids are peering down curiously at him as he sleeps, and he doesn't startle, nor does he startle them when he wakes. There's a high degree of mutual trust there. He lives in their community, not in a boxed off high tech room like the one where he was put to sleep. They dressed him in their ethnic clothing and colour-coded it to match Steve. Someone tied (and probably combed) his hair for him when he didn't have a prosthesis. Someone has folded a blue shawl and tied it into a pretty sling to protect the stump of his arm. This is the image of a guy that was being well looked after -- not just in an impersonal, we gotta keep him alive kind of way, but in a what can we do to make his life better kind of way, and if that isn't some sort of family I don't know what is.

I mean...compare with this costume...that looks like some random sweatshirt from some sports brand worn backwards with the extra fabric pinned and pulled over tautly over his right shoulder, complete with the soft elastic cuffs and the weird neckline. Coogler put more effort into a 30 second cameo than TFATWS did for one of Bucky's most emotionally poignant scenes in a series where he's the main character. Sorry I'm never going to pass on an opportunity to shit on the series.

And like yeah, while I don't ship T'Challa and Bucky (I really like T'Challa with Nakia in the MCU), I think they're an underrated dynamic. They strike me as somewhat similar in temperament? Both peace-loving, respectful and compassionate guys, who have a strong sense of loyalty and a fierce streak when someone they love is hurt. And both Bucky and T'Challa are older brothers to younger sisters, and they both have that oldest kid sense of weary responsibility. And for someone who was broken out of 70 years of brainwashing by being reminded of a promise he made, Bucky clearly has a strong sense of loyalty and responsibility.

So yeah, it makes no sense to me that Bucky would actively do something so personally hurtful, so disloyal and irresponsible to T'Challa, without adequate justification.

As for the mourning, yeah. At the time they didn't know how Coogler was planning to write T'Challa out of the story, so that might be why the mourning wasn't in there. To be honest, Bucky's feelings about Steve was handled poorly too. As I've mentioned before, the series avoids actually addressing how Steve's departure played out. Sam and Bucky are sad about Steve's absence, but never talk about the hurtful way Endgame!Steve abandoned both of them, which is far more emotionally relevant. They talk about him as though he had died in a noble sacrifice, not dumped the world on them and went to mess up someone else's timeline.

[tanadrin]

The idea of national guilt for the holocaust (and subsequently the idea that we owe a debt to Israel as the international-politics-inheritor of the Jewish victims thereof) is really extremely prevalent here in culture and media. I mean the entire Bundestag, including the Linke and the AfD, voted unanimously in support of a resolution supporting Israel. I believe one hundred percent that the political leadership doesn't want to give that up. It's one of the primary aspects of German national identity these days, I think, like it's the greatest factor for national unity we have (which sucks, tbc, I'm quite aware of that). I do think they have like real concerns that publically doing away with that will lead to growing support for the far-right and anti-semitism. Whether it's realistic is a different question, and one I can't answer.

I also think it's a worry that if we don't stay "true" to our post-war commitments it'll be a foreign policy disaster? Like most of the political leadership grew up during the occupation-light of 1949-1994-ish. Every year there's some shit where the country votes some way or another in the EU and everyone internationally is like "they're becoming nazis again. we should hav bombed them harder. They're still the same, we have to watch that they don't start another war", and that's civilians as well as politicians. There's a certain anxiety there that you might actually convince your allies to abandon you or even turn on you. Like that's weaker than the national culture bit but it's not fully absent.

i don't worry about people making tasteless ww2 jokes about germany, what i worry about is that germany has decided to process its "guilt" for the holocaust in the shallowest, most performative way, in the way that costs it the least in terms of energy or effort or thought.

germany claims to take the holocaust seriously, but really taking it seriously would require more than just supporting israel in the UN. it would require grappling with, say, the genocide of the herero in german southwest africa. vigorously opposing aggressive war and genocide when they happen elsewhere in the world. actually standing up for the rights of, and accepting refugees, especially when other countries don't want to take them. you know, the things that were supposed to be the whole world's post-ww2 commitments, but which have fallen by the wayside more and more every year since.

but all that is hard. in reality it costs germany very little to support israel. it's a very easy way to show that you're not like your nazi grandfather or w/e. it's much harder to take the lessons of history and try to generalize.

[ncityavenue]

| Late | M.L

》in which, Mark's late to his first class and you're stuck "alone" in that class without him.

Warnings: none, short story

A/N: okay cause this is kinda based off a dream I had so yeah

──────────✰

You walk into your first class, which is gym, huffing and puffing. You check the time on your watch and it's nearly 8:30, you sat in your spot on the bleachers looking around to see no sight of your best friend, Mark.

You couldn't text him since phones weren't aloud in the building and had gave it in already, so you sat in your space of the gym hearing your teacher's lecture about being better in gym and putting more effort.

he's usually earlier than me,

Maybe the bus is being slow today, he would've told me if he wasn't coming in.

You thought.

You saw his other friends that are your acquaintances walk in through the door. Johnny,Taeyong, and Jaehyun.

They had spotted you and waved at you, well at least Taeyong did. Taeyong nodded to Johnny and Jaehyun to sit near you, they silently agreed with him.

"Where's mark?" Which is the first thing to come out your mouth.

"Hello to you as well." Jaehyun's monotone deep voice answers.

"Sorry, hello guys."

"I thought you would know where he would be." Johnny said.

"He's probably late." Taeyong shrugged.

"No He's usually here before me." You pout a bit.

Johnny noticed your normally bubbly persona being nowhere in sight considering Mark isn't here.

"It'll be fine y/n, he didn't leave you."Jaehyun slightly poked fun at you.

You stayed quiet the entire time, you remained on the bleachers having your head rested on your arms which are rested on your heavy book bag.

You watched everyone else play basketball and volleyball, you contemplating going inside the weight room but that would just be too awkward for you considering you go in there only with mark when he's doing sets with his friends and for you to work out yourself a little.

Jaehyun,Johnny, and Taeyong were playing basketball still semi keeping you company, " Y/n, come play with us." Johnny suggested.

"I'm good thanks."

"Oh no you're not, you are not gonna just sit there long faced." Johnny grabbed you by the arm dragging you off your butt.

You groaned placing your bag down, Johnny gently pushed you into the small court area you stood there awkwardly since normally you didn't play basketball with them. You played with—you guessed it— Mark.

Jaehyun threw you the ball with a look that deceived you a bit. "Cmon shoot it, it's ok if you don't make it! Jaehyun's worse." Taeyong whispered the last part making you giggle.

You threw it and successively got it through the hoop, Taeyong and Johnny clapped while Jaehyun had a look of approval on his face.

"Okay we're gonna play a game now, we'll teach you as we g-"

"Bro, she's friends with Mark. She obviously knows how to play basketball." Taeyong cut Johnny off.

"Or she probably doesn't considering she is friends with Mark." Jaehyun corrected.

"I'm telling him you said that." You spoke finally.

"Go ahead, also tell him he owes me a match. Considering I couldn't play him last time because you were hogging him up." Jaehyun said.

What is his problem?

Maybe he didn't get laid this past week from the party we had.

Not my fault you get no bitches dude.

You thought to yourself before rolling your eyes shooting the ball in the hoop making it in again.

"I wasn't hogging no one up, he had the choice of playing with you or not. He chose me, get over it." You said dribbling the ball.

You always had to shit talk jaehyun in the mornings for some reason, it became a routine. It's like you genuinely had to degrade him to get his respect ever-y-day. Maybe it's his kink.

You passed the ball to Taeyong, so you could check the time. It was almost 2nd period.

There's no way Mark was this late, okay maybe 20 or 10 minutes late but missing all of 1st period??? No way.

"It's almost time to leave." Johnny mentioned, you nodded.

"..Well maybe he slept in late." Taeyong reassured you about Mark.

You continued to play with them until the bell rings, picking up your bag you dread going to second period which was science. Science was only fun because of Mark.

"You could walk with us to our class before going to yours." Taeyong suggested, you happily took the opportunity as you waited for them to change out of their gym clothing to their regular clothes.

You walked with them to their second period, " Man I really don't feel like going to science today."

"..I thought you liked science?" Taeyong raised his eyebrow.

"Mark." Johnny mumbled to him, Taeyong nodded softly.

"You really are a vegetable without him huh?" Jaehyun remarked.

"Oh hush Jeffery, their friendship is adorable. Stop being Jealous." Johnny scolded him.

You chuckled at the nickname Johnny gave him, "Jeffery." You mocked Jaehyun, he only gave you a side eye.

They were infront the classroom they were going to, they had said their farewells and not without sweetheart Taeyong giving you a small side hug.

You walked back to your class with long drawn out steps, you seriously didn't wanna go to science but you had to.

You were only 5 minutes late, you walked in apologizing to the teacher as you turned your head to find a seat you saw no one other than your best friend Mark sitting in his usual seat. Which was way in the back almost in the corner but not quite since you took the corner seat.

"Mark!" You squealed nearly, he smiled at you holding his arms out to give you a hug.

"I'm sorry I was late" Mark apologized.

"You gave me a heart attack, I thought something happened to you."

"I know I know, sorry. I woke up late, thought I set my alarm to 6:00 but I guess I forgot. So when it was 8:30 I sped out my bed, I even forgot to put on my bracelet you gave me." Mark sheepishly explained.

"I can tell you rushed, your hair isn't evenly gelled or parted. It's okay I got a small tub of gel in my bag and a comb." You said.

"Why would you have that in your bag?"

"Well, if I ever beat a bitch up but after I still wanna look cute or if I just look dusty and wanna fix up my hair orrrr situations where my best bud is late and didn't do his hair correctly such as this one." You explained, taking out your notebook.

"Hah, I love you y'know that?" Mark said looking at you fondly.

You paused a bit before replying, "I love you too."

─────────✰

[blackjackkent]

They've been sailing across the lake for roughly twenty minutes when an enormous structure looms out of the darkness.

Huge stone statues line the waterway leading to a gate and a fortress beyond, constructed entirely of black marble with gold inlays. The atmosphere is ominous and foreboding, as if they are sailing into the maw of a giant creature ready to swallow them.

"I've seen statues like this before," Shadowheart mutters. "Sharran... perhaps this is the place Halsin spoke of..." Her eyes are wide, drinking in the view, the details of the place.

"If it is," Wyll says dryly, "I don't think that's who's running the show now." He jerks his head, indicating two duergar standing on the pier, who are watching their raft come to a slow halt inside the enormous gate.

Rakha leaps off the boat, landing lightly on the balls of her feet in front of the two dwarves.

"Weapon at ready, lass," the man says, sizing Rakha up. "Company's calling."

"What do we got here?" the woman says disdainfully. "Dead hoon walking, seems like. Got any reason I shouldn't sever your head and toss it to the rothe?"

Rakha, still keyed up from their fight on the water, is fully ready to give this new set of dwarves the same treatment.

But Wyll speaks up in a low voice, low enough only for her to hear. He's cast his eyes up past the docks and can see the hints of movement of a much larger force beyond. "I reckon diplomacy may be in order," he mutters. "The Blade could use a breather."

(A/N: Hooray for Wyll! I didn't really want to fight here right out of the gate but wasn't sure how to convince Rakha of that. XD )

Rakha halts abruptly in the midst of reaching for the quarterstaff on her back. With visible effort, she lets her hands drop back to her sides and loosens her jaw. One fist - the hand with the brand burned into the palm - flexes.

"Just let me through," she says flatly. "I'm not looking for trouble."

Well, perhaps I am. But Wyll isn't.

"That right?" the woman sneers. "And just what do--" She breaks off suddenly as a twinge of pain boils across her face. "Nnngh--"

Narrator: You feel the slightest of stirrings in your head. The duergar is not infected, yet your minds resonate.

"I'll be," the dwarf growls. "You're one of them cult-freaks. Felt the tingle." She straightens up and squints pensively. "In that case - let's talk business. Your Twat-Soul friend Nere caused a rockfall. Trapped tighter than a hornet's arse."

"Coupla gnome slaves stuck with him too, little bastards," puts in her companion.

"You Absolute-shaggers owe us a crap-load of coin." She pulls a dagger - well-kept, shining in the flickering torchlight. "You want through? Make a donation."

Interesting. This is a good reminder that restraint can lead to more information, more answers. These dwarves are not worm-infected; in fact, they're not even Absolutists. They call Nere a Twat-Soul rather than True Soul - an insult. They are here because they are owed money.

Rakha doesn't really care about the money. She would be happy to fight over it on principle - but Wyll has asked not to. And there is something to be said for the knowledge that these people (unpleasant as they are) have no particular loyalty to Nere.

(The rock-fall is also interesting knowledge, but a separate matter.)

She reaches into her pocket and tosses ten pieces of platinum, one by one, onto the floor at the duergar's feet. "Fine. Take it."

The dwarf laughs and crouches down to scoop the coins up. "I'll be shagged to Shanatar. Shit's looking up. But I'm warning you -" She gestures with the point of the knife at Rakha's chest, then pockets it. "That Twat-Soul ain't settle up soon, there'll be hell to pay for the lot of you cult-buggers."

She stalks off, leaving them alone by the boat. Rakha stares with considerable dislike at her back as she walks away, but Wyll visibly relaxes, realizing there's not going to be an immediate fight.

"I am keen to sever Nere's head," Lae'zel says with cool amusement. "A shame we must do him the favor of freeing him first."

"Not to mention they keep gnomes as slaves," Wyll says bitterly. "Though not for much longer, if the Blade has a say."

Rakha snorts softly. Seems we're all on the same page, then. Perhaps the fight hasn't yet come... but it will come before long. And she'll be more than ready.

[fuckyeah-bears]

literally exerting sooo much self control and impulse control not to snap back at idiots replying stupid shit on my posts. people are annoying as fuck sometimes. like if you have 'commentary' about how i interact with shit and answer asks, you can literally fuck off. i spend absurd amounts of time trying to be nice and provide specific bears and nice replies to people at their request. and then the one time i get slightly irritated people freak the fuck out and start lecturing me about being 'unprofessional' and 'rude' and 'obnoxious' like im sorry but fuck all the way off. this is fucking tumblr. nothing about tumblr is professional. i don't have to provide y'all with bears. i don't have to make a pinned post to explain myself. newsflash, i already have a pinned post that i'm rather fond of. i don't have to act or respond to things any kind of way. i choose to respond kindly with nice encouraging messages and provide bears, and spend ridiculous amounts of time looking up specific requested bears for people. i choose to do that because i want to make people happy and spread some positivity. i choose to do that because this world is shit as fuck sometimes and i want to create a little space free from drama and negativity where people can enjoy bears and get a little reprieve from this shit ass world and the bullshit of life. i choose to do all that because i want to. but heaven forbid i'm not in the mood 100% of the time to always be perfectly nice and happy and go-lucky. and then i get shits giving me crap over it like i'm somehow obligated to do all this shit for free and always respond exactly the way they desire me to. and it is pissing me the fuck off. because i genuinely put so much effort into bearotonin and trying to make other peoples' lives better in this one tiny small way. i have a life y'all. i have a job and school and an actual adult life with responsibilities. but i choose to do this because i love bears and i think bearotonin is hilarious and making people happy is something that makes me happy. but i don't owe anyone anything, and if you have complaints about the way i comport myself or respond to messages or posts i make, well you can fuck off. i don't want to hear it. you don't need to reblog my posts and tag them with little messages about how you disagree, or write replies/comments saying i should act better or should be expecting this, or send me stupid asks. you can literally keep your negative thoughts to yourself. because people need to fucking realize that your tags are not private. if you put them on a post, the op is going to see them. and in this case, the op is going to be super pissed off by them.

to be clear, 99% of people are awesome and super nice and i love y'all dearly (and this post is absolutely not about you in any way), but the other 1% are really getting on my fucking nerves right now and it is taking a lot of effort to not engage with them directly and tell them to fuck off to their faces

[cheerstotheelites-if]

Weywey 😍💘

Dynamic: neighbours

Why they hate each other: They don’t, they’re just in denial about being attracted to each other

What forces them together: MC gets injured and Weylyn helps them

Dialogue prompt: “You consider us enemies? Really?”

🥺👉🍪

Enemies to Lovers generator

Oh shit now that's interesting *loud HEHE's in scheming*

~•~•~

"Ow." Is what you immediately say with a pained hiss. You see Weylyn grimace as he guides you to your porch. You, an absolute genius, thought you were strong enough to endure a ten foot drop with grace and swag. Well... your ankle said otherwise. Hubris is such a powerful entity. Though to be fair on your stupidity, you wanted to impress prove to Weylyn that you can do parkour and he might've inadvertently challenged you to prove it. He was at the other side of the fence separating your houses, in the middle of cleaning his front yard.

"You shouldn't have done that." Weylyn sighs from beside you.

"You asked that I should prove it to you, and I did." You bluntly retort with a huff.

"And earn a sprained ankle?"

You scoff. "Uh, yeah? How else am I supposed to do it?"

Weylyn looks at you and raises a brow. "A forward roll would be enough."

There was a pause for a moment.

"I never said that I was smart." You state.

"I never said you weren't." Weylyn replies, helping you sit down on the porch steps. He sits down beside you once you situated, though with a bit of distance between you both.

The awkward air that comes next is... well, as edible as week old bread. It's okay, but not something you both completely enjoy.

It goes on for a while.

Neither of you making a move.

"We should call an ambulance," Weylyn says, fingers drumming on the porch step lightly, "to get your ankle fixed."

You hum in agreement. "I guess."

Silence again and neither of you actually made the call for an ambulance.

The awkwardness just keeps getting thicker.

You glance over at Weylyn, seeing him look out towards your front yard. Warm, golden gaze, and fluffy silver hair with streaks of the most royal of blues in them. Handsome to boot too.

... This is the first time he's been on this side of the fence, you realize. Usually he'd be on his, not even noticing or looking at you. Heck, even if you both were at the same spot, he still wouldn't bother looking at you. Does this man hate your guts? It's been like this ever since he moved into your neighborhood four years ago. Lumintoile isn't safe either, he still wouldn't look at you.

Well, to be fair, you haven't looked at him at all either. What's the point trying to get someone's attention when they're going to actively ignore it? It's just a waste of effort and time. So, why not settle for the mundane option? You don't hate him. Just... well, wondering why he wouldn't look at you. Surely, he has his reasons. and yet why does it sting when his gaze is directed on anywhere but you?

His eyes turn to you, and you freeze upon realizing that you've been staring.

"Yes?" He asks, turning his head to fully look at you.

You clear your throat, too loudly to your liking, and turn away. "Was just thinking."

Weylyn furrows his brows. "About what?"

You don't answer immediately, already wincing and grimacing from the words that'll leave your mouth. "I was just thinking if you, you know, hate me?" You glance over at Weylyn, and you see him still with confused, furrowed brows.

"Like," you stumble a bit to explain yourself, "what is this between us, exactly? Strangers? Enemies? You haven't even looked at me whenever we're both outside or in school."

His face turns beet red, and he looks away, gaze now focused onto his lap. "You consider us enemies? Really?"

... Alright, not an answer you were expecting.

"What?" Now, it's your turn to be confused.

"I don't hate you." He says, hands now tightly gripping the edge of the porch step. "I could never."

"Then why won't you look at me whenever we're outside or together? It's been four years."

"I..." His voice loses itself after, fizzling out like a dead campfire. You watch Weylyn open and close his mouth, trying to force out words from his throat. "... I can't stand your face."

You stare at him, unsure if you should be even offended or feel deeply stung by it, though that only brought you more confusion.

"You're just too much of everything." Weylyn continues.

"In a good way or a bad way?" You immediately interject before he could continue.

Weylyn whips his head back up at you, eyes wide with a panicked expression. "Good way! In a good way! I mean it! You're just so amazing, that it makes me smile for hours on end whenever I look at you, and, and I don't know why but...!" He trails off, his cheeks now dusted a deep scarlet. His throat bobs, and he opens his mouth again. "I... just think you're pretty cool... and that you made me feel things for so long."

Oh.

Oh.

OH.

Your cheeks immediately heat up at what you just heard, and you quickly turn away.

"What the hell, Rutherford." You mutter as your brain tries to process this newfound information. "And here I thought..."

"I'm, I'm sorry if I came off as hating you." Weylyn quickly stammers out an apology as he clears his throat. "But that's the truth."

Ah.

Gods above.

You might as well die now for the flow of relief that just struck you. Wait, relief?! Relief for what?!

Silence comes again, no longer awkward but... something else. You glance over at Weylyn, and you see him staring at his laps again, cheeks still a dark shade of red as he sits tensely. You realize that you're sitting the same way, and you try to relaxe yourself, but your nerves refuse to calm down. Your quick beating heart refuses to cooperate too.

"I—" You hear Weylyn, but was immediately cut off by a small voice calling your name from inside your house. You both turn to see who it is as the door opens.

"There you are!" Emery chirps, smiling brightly and moves to sit between you and Weylyn. Gods above, when did it become so cramp? Did you and Weylyn move closer during the whole ordeal?

"What are you guys doing here, and why are your faces red?" Emery asks, looking between you and Weylyn with a curious look in his eyes.

You and Weylyn share a glance, to which you both immediately avert from as your cheeks heat up again.

"Nothing." You both say in sync. Emery hums in thought, squinting at you both, thumb and index finger holding his chin.

"Were you gonna kiss?" He asks, to which loud protests immediately arise.

[skepticalarrie]

Hi Allie! Was thinking about your answer the other day on being tired of fans creating conspiracies and big evil plans chances to justify Louis career choices and tried to read the Lisa article very rationally. There are some plot holes though. She says Louis doesn't get radio play because of fear of excessive 1D ex members (against him personally) and his music not being the one radios "like" to play sonically and that I call bs. Tons of completely shitty songs are added to blow up on radio and streaming playlists. Louis music could've done way better. She also basically says they had to deal with zero media push and support but fandom was enough which yikes not this again. Fans are so tired of carrying Louis career promo, not getting any results and feeling guilty about it.. I got intrigued cause more and more we're like between the fact that he IS blacklisted (maybe just bc of other 1D members but like why? this is happening for years even before he left Sony/Syco) and the push that he is in charge now and not tied to them anymore so does he really not want to go bigger or he's just tired like us? Why selling another big tour if there's risk of cancellation? Also I obviously don't think Harry blocked him to do anything (that RS article was shiiit and probably paid by OW/Warner) BUT as several other articles again they're putting H as the antagonist, the evil one who gets everything. It's subtle but the idea is there. I'm just confused.

Hey, darling! Yes, I agree with you this is very much bullshit, a very lame excuse when at this point is very well-known that Louis pissed the shit out of a lot of people over the last decade and that's the real reason why they don't want to play his music on the radio or why he doesn't get media support in general - and also why he was shoved in the background during the band and the list goes on and on. I understand the fact his music is in this gap where he isn't either too "pop" or too "indie" also aggravates things a bit, and that's where the marketing efforts get very confusing, but yeah... that's not the actual reason for him not getting radio support and that's blatantly clear both in this article and on his documentary.

And I think Louis is working with what he has at the moment, I do think he's responsible for his own decisions, and if Sony and powerful people in the industry blacklisted him.. I mean, there isn't much he can do about it. I think his team does a pretty lazy job sometimes relying so much on the fans and all, and that's very frustrating, on top of everything. But it's not like BMG can change that for him.

I'm not entirely sure if I understand the last part of your ask though, especially about the risk of tour cancellation and Harry?

[weilongfu]

For the prompt ask.

I often wonder what would have happened if someone - anyone outside the Wen Clan remnants really knew what Wwx did to survive. Bad, good and horrific. The choices (forced and freely made), the sacrifices (necessary and unnecessarily martyring) and the pain (owed and foolishly owned). I keep thinking about Empathy and how if it had been to show someone - anyone what Wwx truly was before everything went to shit after Sun Shot. Not Lwj. That seems too easy. Maybe Lan Qiren or Jiang Cheng. To see them fight their prejudices with Wwx's perspective. To see some things confirmed and some things shattered. Bonus points if Wwx is against it (which he totally would be) or it is necessary for saving his life (which someone needs to do if he can't be bothered).

Even if you don't do this prompt, I am excited to read what you create. Have fun.

I'll be honest and say I wasn't entirely sure I'd be up to the task of filling this prompt. But I decided to try and I hope you enjoy this result.

-----

"Uncle." Lan Qiren did not need to turn around to know Lan Wangji had been the one to enter his room. "Wei Wuxian is awake."

Lan Qiren nodded, but still did not turn to face his nephew. "The treatment worked then. Good." The silence that followed his answer was louder than expected, but Lan Qiren could hear his own thoughts louder still.

"I will go then."

"Wangji." The sound of footsteps stilled. "I... will be along later to make sure there are no ill effects."

"Hn." The footsteps resumed and Lan Qiren was left once more with his thoughts.

-----

Wei Wuxian was no stranger to wounds, pain, curses, or even death. But even he could not foresee or anticipate some of the things demonic cultivation would be used for after his death, especially by those with far fewer scruples than himself.

He would later call it a lucky shot, that his new core, still young in it's cultivation, could not manifest enough power to resist and defend against such a wicked spell which trapped him in a maze of his darkest moments. Lan Wangji had not been nearly as affected, but lacked the focus to free Wei Wuxian until the Night Hunt had ended, and by then Wei Wuxian had sunk too deep into the mire of the spell and his own mind.

It took a joint effort of Lan Wangji, Lan Qiren, and even Lan Xichen, torn away from his solitary meditation, to traverse the branched and forked paths of the maze within Wei Wuxian's mind through the use of Empathy.

Lan Wangji had strode onward, undaunted by the darkness, for he had known it, seen it, accepted it. The deepest darkness did not stain Wei Wuxian in Lan Wangji's eyes. He had seen the truth, he had known what was at stake, what Wei Wuxian had sacrificed and paid, and so the darkness parted ways for his light.

Lan Xichen had been forced to reflect upon the past he saw and the past he had been told before the paths opened before him. And in those truths he found a mirror of the person he had lost. Lan Xichen shed no tears as he walked, but in his wake, newer memories of growth and renewal blossomed, changing the maze.

Lan Qiren had the hardest task, a wall that was nearly impossible for him to scale.

"But, let the self judge the right and the wrong, let others decide to praise or to blame, let gains and losses remain uncommented on. I, too, know what I should and shouldn’t do. I believe that I’ll be able to control it as well."

This memory alone stopped Lan Qiren cold and he could find no other path open to him.

"Right and wrong, praise and blame... What is right and wrong is clearly written." But the wall cared not for Lan Qiren's arguments, instead showing him impossible choices.

"Neither choice is right," Lan Qiren argued. "One should not select either."

This answer was also rejected and Lan Qiren was shown another moment, a price paid.

"A promise given, a promise kept."

Next came the abandonment, the loneliness, the will to protect those who had no power, those who had been forsaken.

"Evil means to a righteous end."

The wall changed again.

"Do you think me fool or simply stubborn?" Lan Qiren scoffed. "There is naught that you can show me to change my mind. I come to do my duty to my nephew. I come to pay respect to one who saved my life. No more."

The wall changed one last time.

This time, Lan Qiren looked away and had no retort. After another beat, the wall opened and allowed Lan Qiren to walk forward and deeper into the maze, but by then, his path was no more than a way out for Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen as they emerged dragging forward the mind of Wei Wuxian until the wall Lan Qiren had labored to open shut behind them.

After that, it was an easy task to revisit Wei Wuxian's most recent memories to find any drugs or poisons he might have been given before his unconscious state and reverse them.

------

Night had fallen and the entirety of the Cloud Recesses was soon to sleep. At such an odd hour, Lan Wangji answered the door to find his uncle. With wordless grace, Lan Wangji motioned for Lan Qiren to enter and directed him to a sitting room where Wei Wuxian, sprawled out across an entire couch by himself, quickly pushed his jar of liquor behind a pillow.

"I would speak with him alone," Lan Qiren said firmly. Lan Wangji said nothing but turned his gaze to Wei Wuxian who simply smiled and waved him off. Lan Wangji nodded to them both and closed the door behind him.

"To what do I owe the honor, Teacher Lan?"

"You know what it is that I saw."

"I do." Wei Wuxian retrieved his jar of liquor and resumed his drinking despite the expression on Lan Qiren's face. "I trust that Teacher Lan has much to say on the subject for there is no other reason why you would come to see me this late." Wei Wuxian took a contemplative sip. "Or rather at all."

"Mind your tongue."

"Death has a way of loosening lips. Please forgive me, Teacher Lan." Wei Wuxian raised his liquor in a toast to Lan Qiren. "And allow me to thank you for your aid."

"Wangji has taught you manners."

"I have always had manners, Teacher Lan." Wei Wuxian's eyes were sharp despite the haze of liquor. "A proper gentleman and cultivator will always have manners. But I am a discerning cultivator. The ones who deserve my respect and manner will always receive it. Those who do not, will not."

"Do you think to look down on me?"

"I dare not." Another sip. "I look down upon the rigidity with which you stand."

"Insolent."

"No, no, irreverent."

"You sit there, learning the error of your ways, learning that you could not then control what you dared to create, that even now you cannot control what others do with it, and you think you can still be irreverent? You think you can still determine right and wrong?"

"When the Wen clan called themselves the leaders of all cultivation, they decided what was right and wrong. When the Jin clan took over, they too, decided whatever they wished was right and wrong." Wei Wuxian set down his liquor. "And for all your morals, for all that was written, you too, chose to follow what they said was right and wrong instead of what you knew was right and wrong." Wei Wuxian adjusted himself and sat properly. "So then why do you have the right to determine what is right and wrong? Why then, when you follow others so readily, do you get to judge the one who does not? My irreverence is not for right or wrong, it is for they who claim to know better, but choose to let others decide for them."

"I decide based on the rules."

"The rules that another person wrote how many years ago, Teacher Lan?"

Lan Qiren could feel his blood pressure rise. "Talking to you was a fool's errand."

"It is not the solitary man who often makes mistakes in judgement," Wei Wuxian said as he picked up his liquor again. "For sometimes he sees with eyes unclouded by the dust the majority kicks up."

"Empty prose is not a defense."

"Submission to another is also not a defense." His face turning red, Lan Qiren could bear it no longer and he turned to leave. "You wavered for a moment at the end," Wei Wuxian called out, causing Lan Qiren to go still. "I saw, as Lan-er-ge pulled me out of the maze, the doubt on your face. Why did you doubt yourself at that moment?"

"I saw your memory," Lan Qiren replied after a moment. "Trying to bring life where there was only death with those, like you, consigned to death alone."

Wei Wuxian nodded. "But was that not what you expected? A deranged man stealing away with prisoners of war to do such unspeakable things? Or was the light of truth too harsh?"

"...it was bright enough."

Wei Wuxian nodded once more. "So, Teacher Lan, who was right and who was wrong in that instance?" Lan Qiren said nothing and resumed his exit. "I thank you, Teacher Lan, for your instruction this evening. I hope that you, too, learned something tonight."

Lan Qiren nodded stiffly as his nephew opened the door and escorted him out.

"Uncle."

"I will be meditating for a while on some matters, Wangji." Lan Qiren, once more, did not meet his nephew's gaze. "I will ask you to handle a few matters in the interim until I am satisfied."

"Yes, uncle."

"And..." Lan Qiren's hands clenched and unclenched within his sleeves. "Tell me where you got the jars of liquor for Wei Wuxian." Lan Wangji's expression did not change, but he produced a slip of paper for his uncle and handed it to him. "Good night, Wangji."

"Good night."

[paigenoelchas-blog]

Trap of Lies, chapter 27

This is a collaborative effort among several writers. If you want the link to the other chapters, check out @x3kristax3 master list. It takes place in the 1700s and can contain numerous triggers. Please check out the warning at the beginning of each chapter. We love comments. Hope you enjoy.

TW: language and violence.

Angus' POV:

"Hello Angus," He says with a shit-eating grin. His face is covered in blood as though he relishes this evening's conquests. He and his friend roll in here like fucking pirates and act as if I should cower to them. Don't they know who I am, know many men have died at my hand, and how many more at my orders? Who are these men, so obtuse, that they would think they actually have the best of me? Who is more intelligent than I am? No one knows how to control their environment better than I do. For thirty years, I have been handling these streets and this city. I may be outnumbered but I still have that advantage.

If it wasn't for my idiot of a son, I wouldn't have to deal with this mess. I asked him to meet me this more to assure me that the job was done. Alan never showed up. It is that stupid bitch's fault, well, that and the fact that the coward can't even muster the courage to kill her. I am ashamed that he is so useless. I should have sent one of my other men to do the job. At least they would have followed orders. She and that blasted man have done nothing but cause me problems.

Right now, however, I need to focus and fix this problem. "I see you two know how to make an entrance, you may be useful to me," I say, attempting to be charming even while staring at these two bloody messes.

The big man practically snarls, he reminds me of a wild animal. He has fire and danger lurking in the back of his eyes. He is the one to get all of the things done that no one else wants to do, but he is most definitely not the boss. The other one, the savage-looking man, is the boss. He has fire in his eyes and intellect for something that I can't quite detect.

"Old Man," The tall one introduces himself, "I am Leader, but those words shouldn't exit your filthy mouth, you will call me Sir."

"I will address you as I see fit," I say and place myself in my chair behind my desk, so I am raised above these two men. I do not want to lose my advantage. The height and separation are all that I have at the moment.

"Daniel, was that the correct answer?" Phil asks with a snarl.

"Not even remotely," the animal answers as he hulks across the room toward me. He eyes me and watches, biding his time, "Bossman, I think he may be useful to us." Daniel stops and looks at this man who calls himself Leader. Maybe Daniel isn't such an animal after all.

"I know who you are and the things that you are not. I am no fool. I have been running this city for many years, your entire life," I say to Philip. "I also know that you haven't had this position or title for very long. Surely you want to become a partner with someone who has experience." I try to get them on my side.

I have dealt with much more intelligent and capable men than these two. I am not worried, I am the king of this town and no one can wield power quicker than I can. I just have to find the right opportunity. These two neanderthals will provide that opportunity. They all do. Even the ones that seem capable. I haven't met anyone who can outsmart me.

"I assure you, Commander, "Phil says, the sarcasm dripping from his lips, "That no matter how long I have been Leader, I am quite capable to handle my position and you." He speaks with authority and I almost believe him, but no one is better at this game than I am.

Daniel moves closer to me and I stand my ground. "This is my office and I demand you leave." I change tactics quickly as the big man threatens to take me under his control.

"You can make no demand on me, I owe you nothing. You have eno one left to defend you. My friend and I have dispatched them all. You have nothing left, except the next few minutes of freedom. You won't have any breath left in your body if I don't get the answers that I seek." He nods at Daniel and I see a glimmer in Phillip's eye. He loves the power as I do. He knows what to do with it. FUCK. I may. be. screwed...but damn if I was going to let him know it.

Daniel moves closer to me and I grab one of the tools from my collection. It is a sword from the Ming Dynasty. Expensive and beautiful, but worth using if it saves my life. At the quick draw of the sword, Daniel grabs the gun and shoots it out of my hand. Blood spurts all over the beautiful wood desk and my precious belongings. It tarnishes the rug and my books, my beloved clothes. It freely gushes from my hand.

Daniel takes a handkerchief from his pocket to stop the bleeding. He mumbles. "Damn you, we aren't ready for you to die just yet. We need some information." The bleeding slows, but the pain is excruciating. I see Daniel watching Phil for direction. He is neither concerned about me nor upset that he caused the damage. Completely unfazed, he holds the handkerchief with one hand and the other is held tight behind my back.

Is it possible that these two ruffians are going to overtake me, the most powerful man in town, the one that controls the entire city?

I have been in worse spots before. I can still tame them.

"I suppose we can have a... trade of information." I grit my teeth. I see that Phil is pleased with this response.

Dan sits me down and ties me to the chair with a rope. He then rips the curtains off of the wall and uses the tie-backs to subdue me even more. A lesser man would have been alarmed, but I am well-versed in the art of escape.

"Tell me, Sir," I play the game, "What do you want to know from me? I have a few questions of my own."

I see a slow soft smile cross Phillip's face. "You think I am going to tell you anything? You filthy pig. You have murdered people, treated the ladies in town like garbage, manipulated and molested the city's streets, and walked around condescending to the police and all of the lesser minions that you have created? You even created a monster out of your son. Why would I answer any of your questions?"

I would have said the same thing, and done the same thing, "I know things and you want the answers." I say matter of factly. "And I know that you, like me, will do anything that you need to do to succeed." Phillip clenches his teeth and I see a shot of anger fly through his eyes."

"I will take your information and we will see how alike we are." He responds. Daniel takes a knife and slams the tip of it into my desk, my beautiful, intimidating, handmade desk. He pulls out the knife and carves the word pig on its surface. "We are going to tell the truth, aren't we Angus?"

I nod in assent, "Once I receive answers to my questions" I speak trying to communicate as if I still have control of this situation. I am still hoping to please these men. I haven't had to please many and am quite unskilled at this. I have always taken what I wanted.

Phillip chuckles, "Daniel, our friend here speaks as though he has leverage. He has destroyed this town with his vile nature and thinks that he has anything that would dissuade me from seeking my revenge. He has destroyed my city and he thinks that I can overlook this cruelty. He has nothing to offer me except the answers to a few questions, but I suppose, since his life will soon end, I can answer some things." They laugh at my confidence and bravado.

What? They were planning on dispatching me, in my own office? I begin to struggle, realizing that they may have a plan and that they aren't as weak as I thought. I try to get away, but the more I twist, the tighter the grip Daniel has on my arm. I feel the beads of sweat bead on my forehead. I have to remain calm, that is my only hope.

"I have many things that I could offer". I say out loud to Phil. He kicks me to the floor and confiscates my chair. He sits down, placing his feet on the top of the desk, Heathen! Daniel has moved between me and the tools in my collection. "Get off..." I begin to yell, forgetting that I am not in the position to behave as I have been in the past.

Daniel picks up a very long sword, a katana, straight from Japan. It drives me insane with anger as he touches my precious things and threatens me with them. I had it sharpened just last week. He swings it quickly. I hear it whip through the air, the sound is terrifying.

"Leader, did I hear him raise his voice to you?"

"Yes, Daniel, I believe that you did." Phillip leans in close to my face and lowers his voice, " I don't know what you are used to, but your life is not as it was. I will not be treated with so little respect. I am neither your son nor am I your slave." Phillip backs up and nods at Daniel.

Daniel steps close to me and holds the katana above my head. Phillip nods and Daniel lowers the blade. It misses my body by mere inches. I blink and realize that I am still alive and that I have relieved myself. They could have at least killed ma and released me of my embarrassment. I may be many things, but being a man of dignity is something that I have always taken pride in.

Phillip says," I assure you, Daniel missed because he intended to. If you lie or disrespect me once more, I will have no second thoughts about introducing you to your maker. I am not a kind man and have done things that I despise. I am trying to be better, trying to run this town in a more beneficial way, but I need you to tell me of your connections, of the way that you have gained power and I need a list of the bobbies that are under your thumb. I need to know who your friends and your foes are."

My face is hot. This isn't vengeance, it is a coup. He wants my business. I am angrier than I have ever been, I had to try and keep my cool. Seething, I answer through my teeth, "I need to know a couple of things first."

Phillip nods, "I think I can answer the questions of a dying man."

"How did you become Leader? I know this is a new position for you."

"It was given to me. I earned the respect of the old Leader and he wanted to be respectable. I have my own intentions, ones that the former Leader never had. I will control this town in all of the ways that you used to, but I will do it while making a profit for this town and making the city better for its people. Daniel, my right-hand man, are I are likeminded in our pursuits.

I scoff and before I realize what has happened. Daniel stabbed me in the side with my dagger that once belonged to the King of Prussia. I think the worst thing is to be injured with your own weapon. I wince and Phillip smirks.

"Do you know where my son is?" I ask.

" I do." Phillip answers.

" Could you tell me what happened?" This time I ask with a sigh. why does this child have to be so irritating?

"His dreadful soul was released from his body and he has been left to rot in a place that will never be discovered. He will have no eternal rest. His body will rot and his soul will live forever in the knowledge of the vile creation that he had become. He will haunt this Earth in search of a peace that will never come," Phil says with an evil smile on his face. He was twisting the figurative knife, hoping to break my spirit.

Idiot. My son was a coward and could not even complete the one task that would have saved his life. I wanted to shut off the emotion, after all, it was his own weakness that led him to his demise, but he was my son and I felt one tear loosen itself and fall down my blood-spattered face. Damn it!!

"Don't act like you cared about him. We all know that you treated him with disdain and disregard, much like all of those in your life. Do you know how he behaved? Do you know the things that he did to his betrothed?"

There it was...their weakness, MC. They knew her. Maybe, just maybe...

"Ahh, so you know MC. You know that my son had intentions for her?"

"If you mean, do I know that he was going to kill her at your demand? Yes. I have ears and eyes everywhere."

"Then you know why such a thing had to happen? It was business. She was dangerous to my industry. She proved to be an obstacle that I couldn't conquer and my son was quickly becoming a detriment. "

"Explain," Philip asks me as Daniel leans in closer to my body, the dagger close to my neck, Leader holds his hand up telling Daniel to back off.

"You see, Jacob, once your fearless Leader, would never quit as long as my Idi...Alan had her in his clutches and he refused to let her go. He loved taunting Jacob for many reasons, but there was always such competition for Alan between the two since..." I cut myself off. I forgot that some secrets could never be shared.

"What are you leaving out, old man?" Phillip asks, his voice raises for the first time. They wanted to know more, they were almost desperate for it.

" I will tell you under one condition. Let me work for you. Let me help you raise this enterprise and overtake Jacob's empire." I thought I would try another tactic.

"The difference between me and you besides the fact that I am a man of my word. If I say something I do it. I won't lie to get my way. I understand the idea of loyalty and maybe compassion and I know how to have respect for someone. Jacob has earned my respect. I will work with him and never against him. You don't understand loyalty. You don't understand respect."

Their weakness wasn't MC at all, It was Jacob, the one who had been a mystery to them, a man they never really understood.

I cringe. How the hell did Philip think I got into this position without respect, without loyalty? Who the hell... I stood up abruptly, releasing myself from my restraints with fire in my eyes, I instantly feel a hard hit on the back of my head, and the world goes black.

I awake to hear the two of the men still talking, realizing that I had now been restrained more tightly than before, this time with handcuffs, also from my private collection, a gift of early issue weaponry from the police chief. I also noticed a truncheon dripping with blood. I assumed that was what caused this awful pain in my head.

There were few tools left. I wonder what will happen when they run out. I shudder. I can not dwell on this.

Inwardly, I am a mixture of terror and absolute sheer hatred.

If I ever get out of this situation, I will get my revenge. On these two, on Jacob, on that woman that ruined all of us. I will have my kingdom back, and all hell will break loose.

Phillip sees me stirring.

"Had enough old man?" he asks as he grabs my hair and snaps my head back to meet his eyes.

"I need those papers and the facts about the business. and I need to know what were you about to tell me before you stopped talking."

"If I tell you, it could create a massive amount of problems for the people that you respect and love."

"I can't protect them if I don't know the truth and I can handle more than you believe."

"If I tell you, will you keep me alive?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"If I tell you, I will make your death quick. If you don't, I will make sure that Daniel uses every tool from your collection in the worst possible ways until you beg for mercy. You have shown little if any mercy in your life, I have no problem returning the favor."

I have to give it to them, they did not fall prey to my charms. They did not give in. They did not give in to my anger.

It will not save them. In the end, I will find a way to get revenge. If I am dead, my spirit will torture him for all eternity. I swear it on the body of my dead son.

I hang my head low, knowing that I am at their disposal. I had never been weak and I wasn't going out without a fight. It was me or them, I had to get close to the desk. I have one, final option if I am close.

"I have to be released from my handcuffs to get the papers for you and I need to be close to my desk to get to the safe," I say without emotion in my voice.

"Tell me your secret first, then I will release you to your desk and your fate," Phillip is firm. I admire his tone, but not his actions.

He is a fool.

He has thrown away his advantage.

"Alan found out that Jake was his brother and he has hated him ever since. He has tried every day since that to beat him. That is why his possession of MC was so important." I shake my head, "I must admit I kept the wrong brother. Jacob would have been less of a disappointment," I admit my biggest secret, knowing that this was the last card I had to deal. This should shock them into making a mistake.

"Jake is your son?"

"Yes. I must admit I have always been proud of his accomplishments. I take credit for his business acumen."

"You get credit for nothing good in this world, including Jake," Phil says in a low growl. It is at that moment that Daniel watches me open the safe. He holds me with an antique Viking pocket knife plucked from the hand of Eric the Red himself pointed at my neck. What a disgrace to die at the hand of such a glorious item. I watch as Phillip sorts through the papers and finally nods at Daniel.

"We have what we need." He says quickly and looks at me. "The truth has earned you a bit of mercy which is more than you deserve. Another thing that makes us different. Know that this town, the one that you have controlled and destroyed and bent to your every whim, will look much different under my leadership and your name will be wiped from the history of this place."

With one final time for closing remarks, I spit in his face and growl, "You will never succeed. My memory will haunt you as I follow you all of the rest of your days."

Phillip laughs, "Was that a curse? I will never think of you or mention your name after today. Dan, dispatch him quickly. We have some business to take care of."

Dan takes the blade that he is holding to my throat and slides it across my neck. I feel my body drop, the warm blood rushing out, soaking the floor around me. The light begins to fade from my eyes as the anger begins to overtake my soul.

Phillip's POV:

We run out of the mansion and head for our horses. They have remained there as they were faithful friends of ours. "Daniel, take these papers and keep them safe out in the country. I will meet you there tomorrow at the latest. We have many things to discuss and many plans to make."

"Sure thing, bossman, where can I find you in the meantime?"

"I have some unfortunate news to deliver and it must be done immediately. It is too important to hold on to."

I watch Daniel rush away on his steed, knowing that he will keep all of my secrets and those papers safe. I am lucky to have such a faithful partner.

I ride straight to Charlotte's side.

"Love," I say while walking up with a sexy swagger, completely forgetting my appearance. I still wear the blood of many men.

She looks at me in shock. It quickly disappears. "Whatever you need from me, I will do, but do clean up a bit. I will meet you in your room in five minutes."

Charlotte is true to her word and knocks on the door. Her lips move immediately to mine and she kisses me deeply. This woman drives me wild. I feel myself begin to lose control. Then I remember what I needed her for. Unfortunately, this is not a friendly visit.

"Love," I mumble, pulling my lips away from hers, "this is not the time for these sorts of activities. I have an important message that I need you to deliver." Her hand drifts down my pants and I am almost overcome a second time.

"There is plenty of time for this later. This matter is most urgent"

She gets the point and retracts herself from my body as I head to my desk and scribble a note.

"Char, baby, I need you to put on your finest clothes and deliver this message to our old friend, Leader. I need this done as quickly as possible.

You are Leader," she responds, "but I know who you mean and I will do it."

She slides across the room and opens the door, her ass shaking as she goes. I can feel tightening in my pants as I think about what I am going to do with and to and for her when she returns.

"Hey, love, find me when you get back, I haven't seen you in a few days." She laughs and smiles. "I will absolutely," is all that she responds as her body disappears into the hallway.

Now I just wait until she returns and until Leader comes and I can tell him the news that I obtained. He deserves to know the truth. I just hope he is willing to meet me.

Angus' POV:

Slowly, my vision returns, and I listen for footsteps, I lay as still as possible, but hear nothing. I quickly grab the handkerchief that was wrapped around my hand and hold it close to my throat until I feel the blood slow and eventually stop. I am dizzy and have passed out but fortunately not for long. Dan made a poor choice of a weapon. The others have been sharpened and prepared for battle, but the one that he used to deliver the final attack was a true antique. It was not as sharp as it could have been. I assume because I am still breathing, that he did not cut anything major. My desk holds one more secret, one that those unfortunate morons knew nothing of. I push the button under my desk and a trap door slides open. A set of stairs under the desk lead into the basement and to a cave that can keep me safe until I recover. Once inside, I rush the final button that will destroy all of the evidence of my indiscretions and erase any proof of my survival. I feel the fire burn even from down here. A smile creeps over my face as I begin to plan my revenge.

[liutheri]

🔥

send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion. ** author's note: none of these are aimed at anyone in particular ; it's just shit that's grinded my gears throughout my years in the rpc.

 hoo lordy. let's talk about starter calls. more specifically, let's talk about people who post them constantly and never actually do beyond 1-2, especially if they're always for the same people. like... i get it. i know getting 15+ notes on a starter call can be overwhelming. but you determine how much effort / length is going to go into each one, and if you get burned out after writing one or two lengthy ones and conveniently "lose" your starter call after that... maybe write shorter starters. idk.

 speaking of losing starter calls, how frequently do you have to post in order to accomplish that? if it's a consistent problem, write the urls down. save them in a draft or something. whatever you do, just know that kind of behavior is disheartening to all the people who want to write with you.

 on the other hand : people who ask for a starter and then never answer them. i understand if you're not feeling a particular thread that day. i get that; it happens to me quite often. but if you constantly decide to clear out all the drafts you owe, including the ones you never initially replied to? eventually they're gonna stop trying to interact with you, because they're not receiving the same energy or effort they're putting forth. if you're not sure where to go with a starter someone's written, just approach them and say so instead of pointedly ignoring it. i guarantee they'd rather work out a rewrite than think you don't want to write with them.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

you most definitely do not need to answer this if you're not comfortable (or just don't want to), but i saw you say you had grown somewhat resentful of the same mistakes universe and i was curious as to why. i am not personally a writer, but i have a fair amount of friends who are and i have seen similar things happen to them with stories they had put tons of time and effort into, for a variety of different reasons. i know a lot of authors struggle with not getting much interaction on fics, and i can imagine putting something out there that you are proud of and spent a lot of time on and then not hearing anything can feel super disappointing, and also a bit like just chucking your stuff into a void??? i know some other friends of mine have stopped writing because the fandom itself sucked and they were getting weird pointless hate for no reason.

I am definitely sad you've ended/taken a long break from the series, because it's clear you put a ton of time, effort, and care into the same mistakes series, and you developed a character that was deeply nuanced and unique, but also youre doing it all for free and for fun (ideally) so you don't owe anyone anything. I'm for sure rambling at this point but basically i have loved reading the series and i hope somewhere down the line you can start writing again for fun and for yourself!

hey!! i am more than happy to talk about this and the only reason I haven't until now because I wasn't sure anyone really cared and I didn't want it to be misconstrued as whining or ungratefulness. this is probably more of an answer than you were looking for but here we go...

before i came into the top gun fandom, I was very used to chucking my things into the void, as you said. some of my umbrella academy stuff got attention, but aside from a few key mutuals, there wasn't a whole lot. and I was okay with it because I was writing for me and no one else.

and then the og same mistakes trilogy caused my blog to blow up and I was very overwhelmed with the extraordinary overnight attention everything was getting. i went from nothing to so much scrutiny I didn't know what to do. I've gotten to meet and talk to wonderful people because of it, but I've also been subject to some pretty awful hate because of it too. and it never stopped. it just kept getting worse. there was a lot of pressure to deliver consistently and constantly and I felt like no matter what I wrote, I was never appeasing someone. there was always someone who didn't like it and wasn't afraid to tell me so.

ultimately i became resentful because if i never wrote same mistakes, then my blog never would've blown up and i'd never have gotten so much hate. i'd still be writing for me and not judging everything i write before it gets out onto the page. i try to remind myself that i never would've met so many amazing people but that stopped being enough after a little while. when I saw others writing amazing things and get the responses they absolutely deserved while I was being tagged in specific posts for writing things that had overused tropes, I started to wonder what I was doing wrong that I couldn't seem to appease anyone. why it wasn't good enough.

i sort of thought that if i took a step back and focused on other projects, like storm warning and flight risk, things would figure themselves out and the hate would die down and I could come back to same mistakes-verse. uhm, things didn't calm down. the hate didn't stop, as people started taking shots at these other projects (specifically flight risk) and my lack of faith in my writing started extending into my academics.

i've always been pretty proud of my academic writing, and as a historian, it's all I have. but when everyone online is telling you it's shit, and has been telling you that since June, it's hard not to view that for all of your writing. i already feel insecure in my field because I'm still new and honestly this was the last thing I needed.

so i decided to take a step back from all creative writing because it stopped being fun and it stopped being for me and I started hating everything I wrote because I knew no one would like it anyways. i hope it starts being fun again because I miss it and I want to come back to Rebel and Sunshine and Cowgirl and Carolina and all the characters that I love deeply but I don't know when or if that will happen.

[lightlycareless]

„ah shit here we go again“ what do you mean by that ? 🤔🤔 don’t TELLL MEEEE NAOYA IS GOING TO DO SOMETHING TO Y/N !! AGAIN !! pls pls pls a snippet pls pls pls I need to know

Hello anon!

I don't know if you're the same anon as last week 🤭 but you convinced me to share the first page of the next update haha again!! sneaky... 🤣

Spoilers for chapter 29:

If you were forced to name one positive thing that came from the elders' unrequited involvement in your situation, is that their imposed distance (as well as obnoxious arrogance) was so abnormally high, that it permitted you to do the few tasks you were assigned to as the Lady of the House without much interference. They were seemingly so above your level, they barely even gave you any mind —outside of nasty comments here and there— when indulging in the few things that maintained your sanity, at least until the day you were rescued came.

It felt… reductive to even put the words positive and elder’s in the same sentence, considering that no less than just a few days ago you were nothing but a frightened mess, locked away in your room as you continuously tortured your mind with the when and how’s of their retribution. 

Yet, it is said that time heals all wounds, and after tiring all of your energy ruminating in nothing more than your sorrow and your regrets, your body eventually scarred those painful memories, growing some kind of resistance (or perhaps ignorance, because it will always hurt), and arriving to the conclusion that you at least owed it to those who remained by your side in these difficult moments to hold your head up high and continue to fight.

After all, Mariya, Haruko, Hitomi, and Naoaki were all affected by what transpired to some degree, and they still persevered. So why couldn’t you do the same? Or at least… try?

And now that you began to slowly compose yourself, to the point where you actually had energy to get up and out of bed every morning… shame for the past emotional outbursts you’d unwittingly placed on them began to take hold of your conscience—Looking at the  bigger picture, it feels like that's all you've ever done since you arrived here, placing them in danger, while in turn, they constantly reassured you that you were not as cruel, or weak as your inner sabotaging self believed.

Truly, if it weren't for them, you don't know where you'd be. And not giving the Zen'in any more power than what they already had over you was the least you could do to honor their efforts…

…

But as expected, things were always easier said than done.

It certainly wasn't… effortless to move on, not when you still had the presence of your stranded husband lingering in the corner of your eye, and the death sentence of your father-in-law haunting you like a yokai through every step you took, but you still tried your best, the best you could anyways.

Nonetheless… if it’s worth mentioning, there was a sudden change in your surroundings that altered your perception of them for a moment, at least until you figure out if for the best or for the worst, when noticing Naoya's behavior from one day forward.

You don’t know why, and you don’t usually bother to care when it comes to him, but it happened. And quite strangely too, so… abruptly, especially when all that you remember of him for the last days were his attempts to contact you, or that's what you presumed to be —judging by his looming presence in every room you were in—since you never allowed conversation to start between the two.

Taking this into consideration, it was only natural that you’d inquire with your ladies, if they knew, within their limited reach, about anything new happening to him, just in case you needed to anticipate his reaction and act accordingly.

They looked at one another, as if searching for the answer in their eyes, before looking back at you and shaking their heads.

“No, but now that you mention it, I noticed he seemed to be rather… focused, different from the blank stare he carried everywhere he went to" Mariya noted.

“What do you think of it?” Hitomi asks “Do you think he’s up to something?”

“Oh, I hope not!” Haruko frets, face pale as she shivers “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle anything more! But… What do you think, Y/N-chan? Do you think he’s planning something?”

Undeniably so, but that is not something that you were to find out any moment soon, or through them for that matter… less when there were endless topics to choose from. 

The thing enacting his change could be his career, his title, the elders, perhaps even some paramour he’d fallen out with due to his "temporary" stay at the estate, or worse… you.

You swallow. For the sake of your mental health, you really, really hoped that wasn't the case.

[puncromancy]

Book meme: multiples of 5

I AM DAYS LATE BUT TRIUMPHANT HAHAHA thank you for sending this! I have now forgotten every book I have ever read, especially this year, but here we go!

5) what genre did you read the most of?

Can I answer this with gay/fantasy/spooky bullshit? I think everything I read, webnovel or not, fits into one or all of those.

10) favorite new release of the year?

🧍‍♂️I am not gonna lie I have no idea if anything I bought was new this year. I suppose the danmei I do know were this year and I do love svsss with all my heart for just how everything dumb it is, so we will go with that while I sweat nervously about the others

15) did you read any prize nominated/winning books this year?

ok so I suppose "The House in the Cerulean Sea" is award-winning and the first one I thought of as likely so we'll talk about it. It was a very sweet, soft novel but in perhaps my harshest critiques, two things really stood out to me. 1) it feels like a novel Disney could make a movie of and sell to China by editing out a single scene, which really hurts the "Oh this is an LGBT story!" For me since the rest you can honestly pass off as friendship but is apparently supposed to be oblivious pining and 2) the ending also felt so unbelievably wish fulfillment it instantly broke any suspension of disbelief that actual like, modern fantasy world built? I can believe the phoenix man but changing an entire awful racist bureaucracy by like one exposé? Very sweet novel but it felt like it needed a lot more obvious pining, says the ace, or like 50 more pages at the end.

There was also "The Twisted Ones," which had some very awful critters in it but I think I would still have tossed them like, salami slices so you know. Good awful fellas.

20) most anticipated release? Did it meet expectations?

I am gonna fully admit I have mostly read webnovels for the past two years and have only tuned back in to real print books very recently. (I owe the library money which means I can simply never go back. It is probably $10 max.) We started going to b&n occasionally as an effort to support not-Amazon, so now we both have a backlog and I am reading some horror now apparently? I am currently waiting to manage to snag What Moves the Dead I suppose? Which I am 99% sure is released, it just is the most elusive book in the b&n.

25) what reading goals for next year?

To read more of the pile I have picked up! I also want to read - give me a moment - Lovecraft bc I want to write things that would make him roll in his grave. I think yog sothoth deserves kissies. I have a few novels on my shelf rn that are the beginnings of series and I am very excited to actually sit down some time and get into those! Also making a concerted effort to read more gay things. 90% gay please. We did find a novel with an ace protag as well! So imagine me clapping my hands in delight at the idea of reading it (but still not quite getting around to it).

Essentially this year I finally got tired of dealing with the censorship danmei has to dance around and figured you know what? Let's go find some actual books with actual queer stories that don't have to dance around the fact - helped by a major webnovel publisher pulling some shit that meant 90% of translations are buried or locked in discords now. So ACTUAL BOOKS hahha.

[thegreateventof1928]

very long post, I apologize

So glad my wife doesn't have tumblr My best friend (wife (married for tax purposes)) is the literal light of my life. I extend my help to anyone who needs it, or I at least try to. I let people vent to me whenever they need because I know it's nice to have someone listen to you and respond in a meaningful way. Not to say I change much or provide anything substantial- but I always hope I can. And, don't get me wrong, I love doing it! I care about the people who come to me for help and I genuinely try to help all of them. But sometimes I overexert myself and lose all the energy I had to offer. I feel down and low and it really sucks because I know I should be 100% or at least somewhat positive when talking to these people. I can't help but ignore them (selfishly) for the sake of my mental health. It's at these times that I run to her, screaming about the smallest issues in my life. I will yell and cry- stomp my foot and whine about little nothings that set me down the decreasing path and she'll sit there and listen. They always listen. They're the strongest person I know, always have been, life continues to shit on them, and they suffer for it. But after all of that? She sits and listens to me. For the longest time, I thought I was offering her nothing- that she listened out of pity- and that sucked because she means the world to me. But they just came to me today, looking for me to listen (please note that I have before, I'm not a dick, but they definitely deal with me more than I ever "deal" with them) and after we spoke, they thanked me for helping. I wasn't? I didn't do anything at all. I sat and listened like we normally do, but when it really came down to responding, I didn't really put any thought or effort into what I said (as bad as that sounds). I answered her questions genuinely, no forced caring persona or gentle wording. They didn't mind it. They actually enjoyed it. At some point, I found myself also enjoying the conversation, easy banter around a rough topic, we were relaxed and happy and-? I'm confused. Because I'm usually putting all effort into my image for the sake of the recipient- putting on a mask to make the interaction easier and calm. But she didn't care. I was being myself and that made her feel better. I made someone genuinely feel better and it was the most important person in my life. The minute they left to sleep, I felt warmth literally leaving my body. I owe her so much, genuinely helping her, even if it was just this once, made my night so much better. So much better.

[eroaneki]

It doesn't matter anymore, but I can't help but ask myself on occasion if it was all a lie.

That's the one thing that has tripped me up for years. I've never gotten over that. I can sometimes hardly even think about it before becoming so overwhelmed that I just can't anymore.

I mean now, I'm dating a great guy. We're engaged. We're happy for the most part. Shit gets rough sometimes but that's to be expected.

But the one thing feeding my inability to commit fully to someone, is this.

I don't know if my whole experience with him was genuine at any point. And the fact that I don't know bothers me so much more than I wanted to ever admit to myself.

When I started playing BG3 and Astarion admits that the whole beginning of your relationship was a fucking ruse, you cannot even begin to imagine how legitimately triggered I was.

I thought of nothing but him.

I literally went "holy shit, this is literally him."

And I just felt awful. Disgusting, really. All the feelings I had buried in a chest deep down that I haven't touched for years came up. Anger, sadness, disgust, shame, guilt, betrayal, hope.

I really need to focus on ending this. It doesn't matter anymore at all whether or not he was ever genuine about anything.

I'm successful. I won. I made it. And I should be proud of that, and I am.

But I guess it hurts because I did genuinely love him at some point, only for him to quite literally abuse that love for his own selfish benefit. He broke my trust so many times, over and over again.

And I just want to know why?

But I guess a simple answer would be that I was an easy target, even if I wasn't necessarily deserving of it. I was just there, and happened to comply easily.

And that used to make me feel really shameful, but now it doesn't. I was conveying love by trusting someone enough with my heart to not break it.

But they did, and they never seemed to ever give a flying fuck how many times they did it.

But what used to get me was the genuine disgust and disdain he had for himself over how and what he was. He hated himself. Truly, he did. Talking to me about ending shit a few times while he'd be in a panic.

He had someone take their own life one year on Christmas, and that's probably why I'm also thinking about this tonight. Christmas was always really hard for him. I used to have to talk him through it, or just be there for him so he didn't feel alone. He didn't get along with his step-parent also, and used to complain a lot about how the guy was always fucking with him.

He looked for a lot of validation in others, and was also desperately afraid of people leaving him. The two big motivators of everything he did.

He'd make promises he could never keep to everyone in his life in an effort to make them happy, often at his own expense.

He did not take rejection well because you might as well be telling him you hate him. Again, very afraid of being left alone.

Never did it with me but proposed to a number of different girls after dating for short intervals because he was absolutely desperate to have someone who couldn't leave, at least not easily. He also tried to convince me to not get plan b after sleeping with me (entrapment with a child) but did drive me to go get it anyway.

I just think about everything and I'm like what the fuck was I involved in for 7 years?

And sometimes I just wanna spam message him on social media and scream that he owes me an apology, or sometimes I feel like I owe him an apology for hopefully not ruining his life in any way. Probably because he's impacted mine.

But what stops me every time is I have no idea if any of this was ever real in the first place.

So I pretend it wasn't, and I go about my daily business.

Odds are it was just a game, a fun distraction. And that I was the only player.

It doesn't make me sad to admit that. It used to. But not when I know I was just following what I thought was actually happening between the both of us.