#I feel tempted to just replace the old one with this one but I won't because there's always someone out there who might love it

[hide-in-imagination]

Another question, hehe yes it's me again 😅 To specify the scene, what do you think would have happened and how would the story between Ámbar and Simón have unfolded if Benicio had not appeared here? ( i mean episode 10 in the third series)

I actually wrote a whole oneshot about this, which I was going to refer you to, but then I read it and I realized it's cringy as hell and I need to re-write it, so don't read it kjsdnf.

What could've happened? Well, if Benicio didn't show up, they definitely would've kissed, and then maybe Juliana could've shown up instead, like I wrote in my oneshot. If not that, well, they would've have to stop kissing at some point either way and face the music.

I imagine they would move a little away from each other and look around self-consciously once they realize what they had just done in such a public place.

-----------

Simón cleared his throat, still looking away from her. "It seems like Benicio is still missing, so we can stop the rehearsal, right?" He said quickly.

Ámbar was looking at him and she couldn't stop the ironic humor from pouring out. "You're gonna call that a rehearsal? Because I don't remember there being any kiss in the choreography, let me tell you." Her lips were still tingling; she did not imagine that.

Simón kept his head low as he skated back to the bleachers. Ámbar followed after him, watching as he sat as if to take off his skates.

"Hi, sorry to insist," she told him more harshly this time, in opposition to her words, "I know you want to go and all, but it seems to me like it's been proven very clearly that it doesn't bother you to skate with me, nor do other stuff with me, and I've got plenty of witnesses," she gestured around, "in case you want to ask them."

Simón finally desisted in taking off his skates and instead got up once more, standing in front of her.

"Make fun of me all you want but what happened there was about us two, not just me."

"I'm not making fun--"

He scoffed and looked away. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not making fun of you, but could you please-" she grabbed his chin and made him look at her "-look me in the eye and face that it happened? Don't just ignore me."

Simón searched her face moment. "Okay." The look on his face settled on something kind of like a dare, but with the complete confidence that he already knew the outcome. "Okay, you wanna talk about feelings? I'm listening." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited.

Ámbar's brows raised up high and she huffed out a laugh. "'Feelings'? You mean the feelings you have towards me, I imagine. Feel free to admit to them whenever you want."

"And you feel nothing towards me," he said like a question.

Ámbar shrugged, her thumbs tucked inside her back pockets in the perfect image of nonchalance. "I mean, not nothing nothing, obviously. I've never denied that I'm somewhat interested in you."

Simón's face was never really open but it was completely closed off now.

He nodded slowly to himself. "Right." He moved a little closer. "Look, how about this?" He proposed. "I'm going to get back to work, and whenever you feel like admitting anything, you can go and look for me, okay?"

He turned around and left before she could say another word.

Ámbar deflated and rolled her eyes before returning to the rink.

...It seemed like she would have to drop her act if she wanted to get anywhere with Simón.

She just wasn't sure if it was worth it, yet.

-------I'll leave the dialogue in Spanish here too just because------

"Parece que Benicio sigue sin aparecer, así que podemos dejar el ensayo, ¿no?"

"¿'Ensayo' le vas a llamar a eso? Perdonáme pero que yo recuerde no había ningún beso en la coreografía."

*Simón se va a los asientos a sacarse los patines*

"Perdón que te insista, sé que te querés ir y todo, pero me parece que quedó bastante claro que no te molesta patinar conmigo, o hacer otras conmigo, y tengo varios testigos, por si les querés preguntar."

"Búrlate todo lo que quieras pero lo que pasó ahí fue cosa de los dos, no solo de mí."

"No me estoy burlando--"

Él bufó. "Sí, claro--"

"No me estoy burlando pero ¿me podés mirar a los ojos por favor y afrontar que pasó? No me ignorés así."

"...Okay. Okay, ¿quieres hablar sentimientos? Te escucho."

Ella expulsó una risa y levantó las cejas. "¿Sentimientos? Los sentimientos que vos tenés por mí, querrás decir. Lo podés admitir cuando quieras."

"Y tú no sientes nada por mí" lo dijo como si fuera una pregunta.

She shrugged, her thumbs in her back pockets in the stark image of nonchalance. "O sea, nada de nada no, obviamente. Nunca he ocultado que algo me interesás."

Él asintió para sí mismo. "Claro." "Mira, ¿qué te parece esto? Yo voy a volver a trabajar, y cuando sea que tú quieras admitir algo, vas y buscas, ¿órale?"

[aficionadoenthusiast]

(kind of a continuation of this post but this is the most notes one of my pjo posts has gotten without garnering some kind of discourse and i dont really wanna touch it but i need to say this)

thinking about annabeth, the toddler daughter of a phd student whose dad already barely has time for her to the point that she is pretty much responsible for herself

annabeth, five years old, watching from the sidelines as her dad married someone she sees as a monster, moving onto things bigger and better than her, replacing her with people and kids who get more attention from him individually than she ever got in their five years alone

annabeth, seven, deciding it's time for her to move on because she's not getting any more love out of that relationship than she's already squeezed out

annabeth sometime around here learning that it's not that her mother doesn't care about her, she just has more important things to do

annabeth, barely any older, contending with thalia's death, a girl who was both a friend and a caretaker for a brief but incredibly formative time

annabeth, again, barely older, watching luke get a quest and leave her behind, hoping and praying he makes it back home to her, and then when he does, realizing he didn't come back quite right and that now even he's moving on from her, once again leaving her for bigger and better things that he keeps saying she's too young to undestand

annabeth, ten, learning about the prophecy and being told she's gonna be a part of it and starting to form an idea of how one day she's gonna find her More Important Thing if she just works hard enough, because isn't that what happens to everyone?

annabeth, 12, meeting percy and actually demanding to be a part of his quest because even though he'll probably be dead by 16, she'll be damned if she lets her chance at the More Important Thing slip away and be left behind again, so she fights like hell for her dreams and her place in the world

12, and knowing she wasn't enough to keep luke from leaving

annabeth, 13, and having to rescue grover from his More Important Thing and then watching him continue on his More Important Thing

13 still and being tempted by the hunters because if it hasn't happened, maybe the mortal world won't give her her More Important Thing

(then getting kidnapped and forced to hold the sky, no idea if anyone is coming for her, scared that everyone is too busy with their More Important Things, and finding out percy never once thought of not going after her, and beginning to realize he doesn't have his More Important Thing yet either)

14, still raw from thalia joining the hunters, and watching percy with rachel, seeing him blast himself to ogygia, and being terrified he's going to realize his More Important Thing is another girl or saving the world or something equally as more important than annabeth

15, and still scared, except now his birthday is coming up, and he might just die before she can ever get her feelings out, and then why bother?

16 and watching him reject immortality for her to help the demigods, and knowing deep in her bones that there is no More Important Thing because that's just not who he is

16, and knowing for the first time in her life that she can trust another person with her heart

16, and being somebody else's More Important Thing, and maybe letting percy be hers too

that is all

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Can you do a period cup part 2 with izana kakucho and Draken please its okay if you dont want to have a good day/night

Absolutely! This was in the works already, so I'm glad you requested it!

Stuck Cups (Part 2): Izana Kurokawa/Kakucho Hitto/Ken Ryuguji/Sanzu Haruchiyo x Fem!Reader

wc: 953

tw: blood!

masterlist (Part 1)

Izana Kurokawa is squeamish and will not touch anything that looks like blood. Ever.

"No!" Izana shouts, walking out of the bathroom with both hands up. "I won't look at it."

"Don't be a baby," you cry out, amused. "It's just a period!"

"Never known what that was and didn't want to." Izana wanders into the kitchen, opening the fridge and distracting himself from the thought of blood anywhere. So much for a gang leader, huh?

"You act like seeing blood is the worst thing in the world."

"Not seeing it," Izana counters, pointing a single finger in the air. "Touching it."

"Who would clean your scrapes, then?"

"Kakucho," Izana announces proudly. "He'd do anything for me."

Kakucho Hitto is willing to... learn about periods now.

"Alright, so you're saying..." Kakucho squats, frowning. "That your period cup is stuck in there?"

"Yeah," you mumble, shaking your head. "Can't get it out at all."

"And Izana wouldn't help you?"

"No."

"Figures," Kakucho whispers, leaning forward a bit before tossing over his shoulder, "I have full permission to touch your girlfriend's vagina, right?"

"Yeah, just this once. It's a hall pass type of a thing." You glare at Izana, who's standing in the doorway, looking at his phone distractedly. "One night only."

"Okay." Kakucho sticks two fingers inside of you, and you jolt, feeling thick fingers probe about you. "I think I've got it."

"Could you hurry up?" you wonder, grimacing. "Pull it out, already!"

Kakucho obeys, pulling it out and letting it drop with a thunk onto the floor.

"That's disgusting," Izana responds, making a yuck face and walking away.

"It's literally just a period," you grumble. Kakucho picks up your cup and washes it out in the sink with care.

"Just boil it, and it'll be good to go."

"How'd you know that?" you ask, taking the cup from him. Kakucho ponders upon your question for a second, then hums to himself.

"I mean, they're like sex toys, right? They go in your vagina, so they need to be cleaned every so often. I'd assume you boil it."

"Do you own--" Kakucho turns beet red, then backs out of the bathroom without answering any of your shouted questions.

Draken wishes he didn't know what a period was, but is second best only to Takeomi.

"Babe," you shout, and Draken stops putting the groceries away. "My cup got stuck again."

"Coming," Draken replies, shutting the fridge door closed with his foot and ambling towards the bathroom. Damn, he's getting old, he notes, rubbing his back. You're stuck on the toilet, one eye shut as you feel around for the cup. "I got this."

Draken wordlessly replaces your fingers and feels for the cup, leaning over just enough so he can reach the rim and pull it out with ease. Before he straightens up, he places a quick kiss on your nose and then treks to the sink, making light work of the nearly impossible task.

"We should probably start using those disc things," you mention, wiping before flushing the toilet. "You know, for ease of removal and stuff." Draken's eyes slide to you, and he huffs in surprise before leaning his back against the sink.

"Oh, yeah? For ease of removal?"

"And other things," you murmur, pushing him aside to wash your hands.

"Like sex?" Draken laces his arms around you and nuzzles your neck. "We don't have to do all of that, baby. I'll fuck the period right out of you, no sweat." You bump your hips against him, and Draken's grip tightens around you.

"Don't tempt me, big boy," you giggle, but Draken isn't through with you. Not in the slightest.

"Let me put the milk up so it doesn't spoil, and I'll be right back to... assist you, my dear."

Sanzu Haruchiyo is not squeamish, not stupid, and relies on other methods of freedom.

"The article says you should..." Sanzu pauses, scowling over his phone at the hostage in the corner. The bound man is crying loudly, which is interrupting his focus and making him irritated. "Shut the fuck up." Sanzu waves the gun in his hand for emphasis, then turns back to his phone.

"Sorry, baby. First, you should probably get some gloves."

"Gloves...?"

"We have some in the cabinet below the sink." You shift the phone around and set it down. Sanzu can hear you rattling around in the cabinet in the background. "Let me know when you find them."

"Just let me go," the hostage warbles. "I swear I didn't have anything to do with--"

"I'm. Not. Talking. To you."

"I found them!"

"Great. Now you're going to want to squat over the toilet and feel around for the top of the cup. When you find it, push it in and pull it out."

"Got it." There are noises of effort on the other side of the phone, and when you're freed, you give a little shout of joy. "I did it!"

"Good job, sweetheart," Sanzu smiles to himself and glances at the man. "That's my baby girl right there. She can do anything."

"Are you coming home in time for dinner?" Sanzu turns his attention back to the phone and thinks.

"Don't know. Might take me a bit to clean up around here. Save me a plate, though."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you more."

"Impossible," you counter, and Sanzu chuckles. "See you soon." After he hangs up, Sanzu turns back to his hostage. He stands, sets down his phone, and picks up his gun.

"Tell me the steps to getting a stuck menstrual cup out of your wife's vagina in ten seconds, or I'm turning your brains into a Jackson Pollock on the wall behind you."

[icaruskeyartist]

Part 2 of this from the time loop au

It won't let me reblog and add another read more. Stupid imo.

@pillowspace I'm tempted to write some major hurt next but idk if you would be comfortable being tagged in that.

You're dangling several feet off the ground, rotating very slowly in a circle. Below you, the arcade machines look like multi colored tiles, the carpets erratic 90's pattern (sure this place may be 80's themed, but those patterns scream pre-grunge early 90's) rendered mute by the distance.

What's scarier though is the drop to the next floor down. You got yoinked at the edge of the stairs, so the tips of your shoes poke past the safety bannister. If you fell...

"Brat." Moon's voice crackles on the word. He jerks you higher, into the safety of the rafters as the DJ drags his massive form over the machines, pushing open the bathroom doors with one hand to feel inside. Instinctively, you cover your mouth with your hands, your panicked breathing sounding loud even to you.

Moon shakes you a little and you find yourself staring directly into the red LEDs of his eyes. That smile is ever present, but he looks less a jester and more a predator. A cat, crouched and ready to pounce. You've seen a cat catch a mouse before. You hadn't ever thought what it'd be like to be the mouse.

"Are you going to drop me?" You finally managed to ask, hands still over your mouth. Moon's head rotates, just a little too much for it to look like a human motion.

"No," he finally says, and that's a small relief. "Should put in time out. Naughty naughty brats belong in time out."

"I'm not naughty," you protest. Moon's silence is incriminating. "Okay, it's a little bad to be here after closing but. But..." You hesitate. "I'm trying to help you." It wasn't a lie. It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie.

"I don't need help," he snaps back, lifting you higher. Your stomach sinks, and for one second you're convinced he's about to fling you to the ground. Instead, he sets you on one of the rafters, releasing your sweater at last.

You grab at the metal girder, heart thumping hard against your rib cage. "You do though. Don't you want to see the kids again? Like before?"

There's no response, and your fingers are starting to hurt from how hard you're clinging. Below you, the DJ is moving, searching for you. His music is thrumming in time with your heart. Or maybe it's you adjusting to it, trying to find a new rhythm after Moon scared you out of your old one.

"Moon?" You want to reach out, but that meant letting go. Trusting yourself not to fall. Trusting him. Do you trust him?

You wobble a little as you let go, leaning into the empty space. Moon flinches away, a hand raising, but you still brush your fingers over his faceplate. "Moon, I am your friend," you insist. "You have to know that. You have to."

How do you explain that you know him, that you've met him three times already, and you know how to save him. Save Sun.

"You're the assistant," he says, and the growl is back in his voice. "You're my replacement. Not a friend." He pulls away from your hand, and then he's gone, zipping away, towards the atrium. Leaving you stuck in place as the music dies down, your eyes starting to itch.

Several loops later, you won't remember the terror of making your way back down to the arcade, fighting tears so you could see where you're going. The fear will be wiped out by exhaustion and pain, emotional and physical, experienced over and over. But for now, right now, this might be the most painful rejection in your life.

Because it's Moon. And you know him. You know he's not truly malicious, that there's something wrong. And he has to know too. Why else did he save you from the DJ? Why else is he not currently hunting you down as you make it back to the ground and walk on shaky legs to the elevator? He knows you're a friend. He has to.

By the time you make it home, the sun is starting to peak out from the horizon. You pull your curtains in your bedroom, collapsing into bed without taking your shoes off. And finally, you let yourself cry. You cry, burying your face in your pillows, curling up tight. You cry, and you think distantly of fictional characters who get trapped in time loops too. What sort of monster would dream of a world like this? To repeat the same thing over and over, only to fail time and time again. Being the only one who remembered.

You fall asleep slowly, and when you wake, it's well past noon. Your body feels heavy, your eyes crusty. There's the start of a headache, medicine withdrawal. It's been over 24 hours, and your body is warning you. Your ear hurts. You find your hearing aid, dead, buried in the sheets. You put it on the nightstand to charge.

When you check your sweater, you're not surprised to find some of the yarn had been stretched out of place, frayed and torn bits where Moon's fingers dug in. You'd have to fix it before your next shift. The kids loved your sweater, found it as safe and secure as you did.

Your Fazwatch is dead too. On the charger it goes, cell phone next. There's a text, but you don't bother checking it. You know it's work, asking you to come in today. You had, twice before. You slept through it today.

It's after you shower and you're toweling off that you notice the bruise on your shoulder. You touch it and wince, remembering hitting the arcade. You hadn't expected it to still be so tender. Maybe the warm water did something? You look at it better in the mirror, catching sight of your face. You look tired. And paler than normal? You poke at your eyebags, squinting, trying to remember what you looked like before this started happening.

Maybe you shouldn't go in tomorrow.

[rey-jake-therapist]

Warning: this post contains spoilers from the comics The Sandman. I don't know why I bother because these books were written 30 years ago and Google will tell you how it ends in a second, but oh, well, I feel like being nice today.

So many people call Morpheus' death a suicide... And argue that the show should change it, that it should be framed more as an unavoidable sacrifice... Or even "better", changed so it becomes a happy ending.

And good news people! I won't argue with you on that. I'm just posting because I'm wondering: can it be really called a *suicide*? Is it even a death?

Okay, I hear you growl from here. Yeah, I know. Morpheus pretty much dies, he takes his sister's hand and disappears, yada yada. It is a death. Sort of. But then, the Endless are just not... They're not people. They can never die like we die, because they are concepts that wil keep existing as long as there will be living beings who will believe in the existence of these concepts.

So when I see the ending of The Sandman denounced as some sort of glorification of suicide as "the only way out" I humbly wonder if it's not a bit of simplification of what the story has to say, you know? And before my post is taken as a judgement over Sandman fans who feel this way: it's NOT. I actually understand this point of view for the reason that I used to feel that way too. I was terribly tempted by suicide when I was younger, and like an old bad habit it keeps coming back and forth when I'm at lowest; for this reason TKO made me uncomfortable first, and my guts also told me that the show had to, not necessarily change the ending, but at least make Morpheus' death look less like a suicide.

But then I re-read TKO, and I read meta. Doing both made me realize that by sympathizing with Morpheus as if he was a human being, I had forgotten something ESSENTIAL about him: he's not human. And he's not only Morpheus: he's Dream of the Endless before being Morpheus. Morpheus is a persona, more than a person. Therefore I think that his "death" is interpreted wayyyyy to literally by the fandom. Just like the fact that he's "replaced" by Daniel is often interpreted as something negative that implies that Morpheus was not good enough, while I'm convinced it was not at all the intent that Neil Gaiman had in mind.

There's something very important that Dream says at some point: it's that one has to change or die. Morpheus couldn't change, so from his point of view, he had to die. But as I said earlier, Dream as a concept can't die! Of course, he could have chosen like Destruction to abandon his functions, but it's a decision that Morpheus should have taken, and we know he was too binded by the rules and responsibilities to take this decisions. He would have never done that because it was against his nature. Which meant, Dream had to change of persona. Morpheus would die, but Dream would change. And what better to serve humanity, than a being who was as much a human as he was a dream?

We tend to consider Daniel as an entity totally separated from Morpheus, but 1) Daniel was conceived in the Dreaming, making him a part of Morpheus (it's not to be cruel that Morpheus told Lyta her baby was a part of the Dreaming, and that in consequence he would come to take him. He was just stating a fact: everything created in the Dreaming belongs to the Dreaming/him). 2) when Daniel becomes Dream, he doesn't just get a job: all that Morpheus used to be, his family, his memories.... He gets them too.

In conclusion, for me, interpreting Morpheus' death as a suicide is too literal. I think that it's rather a very poetic story that translates the changes that we must all go through at some point in our life, even if it's painful. We, like Dream, must sometimes change our point of view on life, otherwise we will miss what's really important. Sometimes, the change is so big and scary it can feel like a death; the death of what we used to be, the death of childhood, the death of our youth, etc... But it's only a feeling, because like Dream, what we go through is necessary a transformation. We, too, must change.... Or die.

I said in a previous thread that contrary to what is often believed, Morpheus trading his place with Daniel is not a 180° change for Dream: he's the result of a change that started occurring a long time ago. His hair is white because his point of view is new, untainted. He's Dream of the Endless starting anew, but with Morpheus' experience to guide him.

Maybe it's why Morpheus is turned into a star after his death? Is he a guiding star for Daniel!Dream?

Sorry of there's a lot of typos, I may come back to it later for edits but I don't have time now.... I just wanted to say at the end that in my humble opinion, the comics don't spread a bad message that should be changed for the show, because "just kill yourself if you're unhappy" has never been the message of The Sandman. I think however it should be made less confusing than it is for the average viewer, especially since Morpheus!Dream often looks more like a cute blue eyed teenager than like an ethereal immortal being. It's hard to forget he's not "just some lil' guy", so of course his upcoming death will be even harder to stomach...

[thegeminisage]

I have to know about the dead beat ghost of George Kirk, that lit my brain up. Also Spock on Spock violence either/or. both even?

BOTH IS GOOD. tysm. this got so long don't worry about reading this entire answer lol <3

ok, so, spock on spock violence is a fanfic i conceived when i was deep in the throes of trek last autumn. but i had to wait until i had watched EVERYTHING with nimoy's spock in it before i could begin working on it, and by the time i got there, the steam sort of ran out of my engines. so i'm not sure if it'll ever get done at this point, especially considering i sort of veered back into working on something else. anyway, to general concept of this is - while it's very sweet that in the movies and in real life quinto spock and nimoy spock are friends, it's also. love and light. a little boring. i think that really, spock is an individual who is in many ways at war with himself, and when asked the age-old question "would you fight your clone or fuck him?" would unequivocally choose FIGHT every time

the very basic plot of the fic (which is really just a flimsy excuse for spock and spock to be petty cut-throat bitches at each other) is that post stid quinto spock has been traumatized by 1. the death of his mother 2. the death of his planet 3. the death of his boyfriend (hi, jim) and he's decided to break up with jim and do a kohlinahr so he doesn't have to feel grief anymore (and, with his longer vulcan lifespan, never has to watch jim die) because this shit is killing him. jim thinks this is stupid and nimoy spock also thinks this is stupid so nimoy spock and quinto spock spend a great deal of time hurling insults at one another about it.

there is also a side plot that very vaguely cribs from the tos episode "what are little girls made of?" wherein people are getting replaced by androids, and at one point, quinto spock is tempted by a jim android, because, after all:

an android jim never has to suffer! he never has to die! spock could have and love his boyfriend FOREVER AND EVER and never have to fear the pain of loss ever again! that will totally work and fix everything with absolutely zero problems, right?

since i don't actually have any prose written for this yet, i will provide an excerpt from my notes, edited slightly for clarity:

to quinto spock, nimoy spock is a living example of his every failure and his worst fears. he gave up the good fight against his own internal humanity, he TOOK A HUMAN MATE (gross!), and he allowed/indirectly caused vulcan to be destroyed. nimoy spock, old and at the end of his life, has no one. he's been mourning his jim for longer than they were ever together. the only thing he knows is the unbearable pain of grief. quinto spock fears this kind of pain more than anything. he thinks he is seeing his own future and he is desperate to prevent it via any means possible, even the kolinahr - this timeline can be different, right?

to nimoy spock, quinto spock is a living example of the very worst and most cowardly parts of himself, and wastes all the precious opportunities he has - he makes nimoy spock sick with envy. quinto spock has SO many years left to spend with jim and he's going to WASTE them just because he's afraid of what life will be like without him. worse, he's hurting the person nimoy spock loved most by pushing him away, and it's all his own (nimoy spock's) fault because vulcan was kind of his bad. by allowing vulcan to be destroyed he has ruined not only his future, but also his past. quinto spock is destroying himself from the inside over his misguided prejudice over his own humanity, and his internalized xenophobia or whatever, and he's too young and too stupid to see that the only way to get through it is to GO through it, and he won't listen to the one person he should trust above all others (himself) because he HATES HIMSELF, that's his/their whole problem

like, imagine your entire deal is self-loathing and an abject refusal to accept both halves of your extremely internally conflicted being. and then suddenly there's another version of yourself who can stand next to you, who can be blamed and yelled at (possibly punched?), who is somehow doing an EVEN WORSE JOB at being you than you already are!!!!! you have to watch this other you make mistakes so massive even YOU wouldn't do them and you guys are supposed to NOT fight somehow??

ultimately, this is a fic about confronting grief and pain rather than running away from it, but it also morphed into a kind of fix-it for generations (the movie where kirk bites it in the most underwhelming death scene ever) which turned it into a very full project because those two things are a bit at odds with each other, so i had to reoutline it, but the outline IS all ready to go, i just...haven't gotten around to it yet because i'm working on the other project. i haven't given up on it though!!!

deadbeat ghost of george kirk is essentially a story about how completely useless it is to have a ghost for a dad. not a literal ghost, it's not that kind of story, but despite how affecting the opening of the 2009 movie is, we have to contend with the sad reality that if you grow up without a dad there is a high risk of simply becoming chris pine's kirk. like, that's why he's like that, right? hard truths. i only have about 800 words of this and it's quite likely it will never be finished or posted, but every time someone says something horrible to me in real life about my dead dad (happens more often than you think) i add another rage-fueled paragraph. an excerpt (content warning for child abuse and suicidal ideation):

What's so heroic about it, anyway? Jim's dad didn't die to save eight hundred lives; he died to save two, and counted the other seven hundred ninety-eight as a happy bonus. And what became of those two people? His mother a chronically offworld functional alcoholic, married to a chronically on-world nonfunctional alcoholic, whose favorite hobby is hitting his wife's sons with his belt and whose second favorite hobby is seeing which bones he can break with his steel-toed boots. Jim himself, sent to the hell that was Tarsus IV for driving a car off a cliff, who at eleven years old had already been jaded enough to consider just going off the cliff with it. Would George Kirk do it again the same way, if he could somehow know how the world turned without him in it? Would he think it was a fair trade? Either the answer is no and he was an idiot who threw away his life for nothing, or the answer is yes and he was an asshole. Either way, it hardly amounts to heroism. What good is a dead father to anybody? They can't turn up at the school play or the track meets. They can't teach you to tie a tie or throw a punch at bullies or slip you your first beer or bring you birthday gifts. You can't give a Father's Day card to an empty grave, not if you're saying anything true. All the cards say things like Thanks for being there for me, Dad!, and all Jim knows about his father is that there is the one place he wasn't. See, Jim has been in space, which is quite literally the absence of everything. He's also been on Tarsus IV, a planet where people got so hungry they started hacking limbs off of corpses to soothe the absolute absence of food in their stomach. And yet, for all that, the absence of George Kirk is the keenest absence he's ever known.

let people send you an ask with the WIP title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

[fuglyjeans]

Ok the first time I watched bojack horseman season 6, it sent me in a pretty bad depression spiral. But I just watched it again for the first time in almost 4 years, and it actually fills me with peace. I think I thought the show was saying no one can change, really; bojack will always be just some shitty selfish horse. He can try to do better, but he can't change the lives he's ruined, or outrun the consequences, and he'll always slip up. That made me so sad.

But now i see it more like... yeah hollyhock cut off contact, bojack goes to prison, Diane implies they'll never speak again, Princess Carolyn implies she won't work with Bojack again in the future etc. But at the same time all of these characters still express love to bojack and thankfulness that he was in their life. Even Todd is really kind to bojack in the final episode, despite having every reason to ignore him forever. They draw boundaries as they should. But there's still compassion.

Even though bojack has arguably lost absolutely everything, he's still able to find a little joy in prison putting on a play. And those people will still probably say hi to him from time to time... and after he gets out of prison, who knows, maybe he'll make more progress and find new people, start better relationships. He was already on the up and up... he relapsed, but honestly that happens. Before his relapse he'd been sober for like a year which is pretty amazing.

bojack is messy and his progress is slow. He's deeply flawed and no one is obligated to stay in his life, no one has to respect him after all the shitty things he's done. But what brings him true peace is being honest with himself about that... no memoir or dream role or Oscar win or long-lost sister or university can replace the peace of just being real. Taking accountability. I think by the end bojack is at least starting to realize that and commit it to memory.

I also think it's tempting to feel like post-rehab bojack is all better, he's a new bojack, it's unfair that the reporters and interviewers come after him to ruin his life after he'd just fixed it. He's not the same as Vance Waggoner!! But that's the thing.. even though it's hard, even though it feels unfair, bojack still has the choice to do better. He didn't have to do the 2nd interview. He didn't have to teach at hollyhock's school without asking her if that would be weird. He didn't have to do Horny Unicorn, he didn't have to go back into that party after reading hollyhock's letter. He didn't have to go on one last bender, break into his old house, call Diane and nearly kill himself. It's understandable that he did. It's painful and horrible. But every single time, he could have chosen to walk away, ask for help--maybe not from Diane or PC or Todd, but surely Mr Peanutbutter or he could have just checked into the ER for monitoring. And that would feel sad and humiliating and lonely but he would survive and come out knowing he didnt ruin things this time, even if he felt alone. Its ok to be alone. But he didnt do that... so even though i understand why "new bojack" fucks up again.... it WAS all still his own choice.

I could talk abt this show forever lol God

[cazzyf1]

Today, I've thought a lot about what Toto Wolff said about Niki Lauda, as I am everyone else who has seen the tweet has done the same. My first response was a lot of anger towards Toto for calling Niki a mascot and joking about replacing him with Helmut. It feels belittling of Niki and disrespectful of everything he did for Mercedes. I tweeted about it, made a photo edit for Niki about it, and was very tempted to post on my tribute account to Niki about it, yet I held off from that. No need to make the situation bigger than what it is.

I went to read the article it was quoted from to gather as much context as I could for the quotes, and I'll include exactly what it said below:

'In the event that the matter ends with Marko leaving Red Bull, Toto Wolff makes him a tongue-in-cheek offer: Marko could take Niki Lauda's old place at Mercedes! "We're missing our old mascot anyway. Then we'll just use Helmut. He's age-appropriate. He doesn't have a red cap, but then he'll come to us," grins Wolff.' (using Google Translate to translate from German to English)

Clearly, Toto is trying to joke about the situation; maybe it's the sort of thing Niki would have laughed at himself. With as much as I know about Niki, he very likely would. Niki and Helmut had very similar racing careers at the start. Recently, I've been reading a book about Niki published in 1975 that focused a lot on Helmut initially to show the contrast and similarities between the two Austrian drivers. Then, as we all know, Niki worked for Mercedes and Helmut for Red Bull. I've read interviews with Niki and Helmut, and they got along well. Now, I don't agree with much of what Helmut has said and done, but I can't deny his friendship with Niki, whom I respect a lot. So I'm trying to look at this situation as Toto making the sort of joke Niki would have found funny about him and Helmut.

Yet even so, the phrasing of it feels like it diminishes all of what Niki did. He supported and understood the drivers when Toto couldn't, he gave his advice, and his no-bullshit approach would tell Mercedes what needed changing within the team and with the car. He was the non-executive chairman of Mercedes, and he owned stakes in the company. He was not just a man in a red cap to represent Mercedes.

Niki and Toto were very close. I could write so many stories that I know of the two of them, and it's why I want to try to understand why Toto would say such a thing about him. Niki saw Toto as one of his closest friends, which is why I am trying to rationalise it in my mind of Toto joking about it in a way that Niki would have found funny.

Maybe I'll have a more rational mind about it in a few days, or maybe I'll still be a bit bitter. Maybe he will say more about it, or maybe he won't. Time will tell on that front.

I'd also love to hear other people's thoughts on the situation, and on Toto. I just felt like I needed to put my thoughts into words and put them out there, given how much I've posted about Niki and shared.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Regicide, regicisions

Pip didn't want to be queen. She'd started this war to put an end to the old king - his insatiable greed, the raiding of their villages, the brutalising of his own subjects - not because she saw herself in his place. She didn't know the first thing about ruling. It was a low bar to follow, but she couldn't see herself upon the throne.

Unfortunately, there were a lot of people who agreed.

"That's the problem with regicide," Hari told her, a whole uprising too late. "It has a way of getting in the water, spreading around, like a particularly pervasive disease. Once you show the people that a monarch can bleed, they're rarely content with the one performance - and it's an unwise leader who sets themselves up for the encore."

It was a poisoned chalice, he explained. If the leader of the rebellion installed themselves upon the throne, they'd have to contend with a legion of assassins from all angles. Revenge, from the side who'd been displaced. Ambition, from those who thought it should have been them, now that the hard work of civil war was out of the way. Or other interested parties, those with some influence, who'd learnt that they could roll the dice if the new ruler didn't do exactly what they want.

"Too much change, or not enough - there'll be pitchforks either way."

Pip sighed. It was the morning after they'd broken the siege, and she hadn't slept enough for these decisions. But the rest of the castle would be waking soon, and so too the realm. When news of the battle filtered out, they'd want to know who ruled them. Hari had woken her for good reason, and taken her to the throne room, where the old king's body still lay on the floor. She'd done the regicide herself, and it was odd to see her hilt protruding from his chest.

"So we're in agreement." She eyed the throne. It didn't seem tempting. All she wanted right now was her bed. "I won't be queen. Let somebody else do it."

"It's not that easy, sadly," Hari said. At least he really did look sad about it. "Even those who swerve the crown are often doomed, I'm sorry to say."

"Be sorry you didn't tell me before I stuck a dagger in his heart."

"An empty throne will leave a vacuum - and if you don't fill it, here and now, there'll be plenty of other volunteers."

"Perfect. They're welcome to it." Pip went to reclaim her dagger. It gave her something to do, to stave off this feeling of impotence. "I don't want any of that. That's not what this was all about."

"You'll say that now, and they might even believe you. But when they find their own rule inevitably threatened, for any of the reasons I've mentioned, they'll look to you as the cause: friendly or not, they'll see you as a natural point for dissent to rally around, the hero of that glorious revolution, the creator of the potential they'd turned into disappointment."

"Me? A rebel?" She wiped the blade on the king's scarlet robes. It had been neat work, as her deaths always were; it was an odd thing to take pride in, but she'd never been one of the hack-and-slash types. She'd killed the guy, but there was no sense being violent about it. "I wonder what could have given them that idea."

"Well, that's part of the problem. You'll always be a replacement in waiting - a perpetual challenger to the throne. It doesn't help that you've already emptied it once. That kind of thing leaves a reputation. So, as well as vengeful loyalists and those behind you in the queue, the monarch you crown could soon come for you head."

"Perfect." Pip paused, as if seeing Hari for the first time. He'd been with her from the start, a dedicated servant of the cause, right up to that final stroke the night before. They'd been standing as they did now, facing the throne - him just behind her, as always, finishing off the king's guards as she did for the king. Even this morning, he'd chosen to wake her, to warn her, rather than let her sleepwalk into trouble. "I can trust you, right?"

"I don't want it!" Hari knew exactly what she'd meant. They'd been together long enough for that. "Have you not been listening? Poisoned chalice. It's not something you'd give to your friends."

"But not something you'd trust to your enemies. Got it." Pip looked down at the dead king, the only enemy she'd had before. She hadn't realised that striking him down would raise a dozen in his place. "How many saw him die?"

Hari took a little longer to understand that one, but then let out a little laugh of disbelief. "You want me to add some strings?"

"Not literally, but... we can say we hashed it out, came up with a compromise. We just need a figurehead, right? Then we can come up with a council of advisors, with us as the go between..."

"It sounds incredibly risky."

"Weren't you just telling me that the alternative was certain death? That I might as well have been martyred in the process?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." It was Hari's turn to sigh. Pip felt tired having been woken, but now she wondered if he'd slept at all. "We don't have a lot of time. But sure, let's give it a try."

[bluetomorrows]

Final Fantasy III and the Perils of Freedom

I've been playing a lot of JRPGs lately. The Master System's magnum opus Phantasy Star, the beloved (but overhyped) Chrono Trigger, the simple but charming Sailor Moon: Another Story, the internet darling Earthbound, and of course the most famous and acclaimed series of them all: Final Fantasy.

After playing some more complex experimental RPGs, I wanted something more simple and straightforward so I decided to play the original Final Fantasy. I mostly got what I wanted. It's sometimes said Final Fantasy 1-3 are FF's only "true RPGS". They're certainly the ones that derive the most from TTRPGs. The first one particularly. It kind of just drops you in.

No cutscene to establish the characters. No objective marker. No tutorial. Just go. Final Fantasy 2 and 3 aren't this extreme but they aren't too far off. It's a big open world and YOU shape the role that you play in it. Or at least that's the idea. Final Fantasy could never actually have the freedom of a game like Dungeons & Dragons. Sure you can customize your party to your liking and go do optional side content but there's still a VERY specific order of actions you need to take to get to the final boss. All that freedom isn't for making your own path, it's for exploring the linear progression in different ways.

For the most part, I enjoyed this. It's fun within the system of Final Fantasy, I just think it's the sequels where the cracks of pseudo-freedom in game design begin to show. Final Fantasy 2 is its own can of worms in terms of design and I won't go too deep into it. The shortened version is that I think it gives you unparalleled freedom in how you build your party but it's too much of a hassle to truly build it exactly how you want it.

Final Fantasy 3 is the one I'm really interested in talking about. It introduces the job system to the series, replacing the classes of the original game. There are 23 different jobs. This is nothing to scoff at, especially for the third entry in the series, but I often wondered if it was too much. Each job can go to level 99 and become much more useful along the way, so experimentation comes at a cost. You'll immediately feel the downgrade, and it's very tempting to just keep the same setup for most of the game. Unless of course, it does something like force you to switch to the thief, or introduce better versions of old jobs to pressure you to upgrade. I think the problem with this system is that it's trying to introduce unprecedented freedom within a very rigid system. If the player really could just switch willy-nilly, then the game might become too easy. But it becomes frustrating when it clearly encourages you to experiment and go about the story in your own unique way while also punishing you for doing so. You need to commit in one direction, you can't have both, or at least not like this.

The thing about freedom in video games is that it's impossible. Games are just too complex. If you are to say, make 23 different jobs for a game, you need to keep in mind how each job interacts with the systems of the game and how to keep them all feeling worthwhile and balanced. If I'm just gonna use the same 4 jobs for 90% of the game, then I'm gonna feel ripped off. Either I'm playing the game wrong or the design is just poor. I don't think either is completely true, however, I do think that when you are designing a game around player freedom, it's paradoxically better to give it fewer options.

If you give the player a small pool of good and intricate tools, they're much more likely to not only want to use them all but find interesting and unique ways to use them. It's why I'm much more interested in replaying the more limited Final Fantasy 1 than the expansive 3. The player can only take so much, you can't just give them the free reign you may think they want. You have to carefully guide them towards the options of freedom so they don't get lost along the way.

Final Fantasy 3 is a great game, and I enjoyed it a lot, but I think it also demonstrates a problem still plaguing game design today regarding the incompatibility of ttrpg freedom with the limitations of game design.

[theanonymousfoxsimp]

As roe v wade is overturned because of this shitty government, heres something for demon slayer fans

Hashira and uppermoons reacting to the sentance "I do not feel confortable having sex with you if you don't get a vasectomy"

Warnings:fluff,hints of the devils tango

Featuring: kokushibo,muzan,douma,akaza,tengen+ wives,Rengoku,giyuu,sanemi

Muzan

"Okay?"

He can just,yknow,change his shape at will so he doesn't care,probably jokes about this as well

the kind of guy to not care at all until it directly affects you and his hunt for the spider lily,then he's all for it so expect him to not know/care at first

Sex is sex,he didn't entierly want a child in the first place-unless,y'know, free meal

Absolutley the most supportive,has sent a few uppermoons to try and handle the situation

Most respectful,just dosen't show it

Not entierly sure if even wanting kids anymore is an option,hes so focussed on the hunt for the blue spider lily that he only has enough time for you

Douma

This bitch

This demon just tilts his head and says "okay....and? Is there anything else? I didn't want kids anyways,we could always just kidnap one anyways"

Most likley the one who legit kidnaps a kid eventually

Second supportive, morso waants to eat the people who did this to you

"Crotch goblins-" calls kids that anytime he comes around one

Sometimes he hates them,sometimes he doesn't, he's morso of an infant person,he likes when they're all tiny and so adorable but the moment they turn into hellspawn,he HATES them

Kokushibo

He is a bit old fashioned,hes so confused on why until he learns out they are reversible,hes all for it

Wanted kids,never had the proper mental compacity for them

His mind is a void,so he gets it done easily then forgets he ever got one

Lowkey a bit proud you stood your ground and expressed yourself,normally demons/ humans won't do that

Morso terrified when muzan AND akaza reacted so violently to hearing the news that basic women needs are being thrown out the window

Mostly the quiet supportive one,is a bit agaisnt it until he learns it can be reversed

Akaza

"Sure,anything for you!"

Dosen't question it,immediately has it done

Horrified for women's rights,even demons treat women better!

A little hurt,he knows wonderful women and find it difficult to believe that this of all things is happening

Wanted kids at first but changes his mind after the tall with you,he dosen't to force it on you-even if having a few little ones running around is a tempting thought

Dosen't like the idea of your rights being taken away,would be a protestor if it weren't for the fact he couldn't go out in the daylight and looked like a demon

Reacted very violently along with muzan when hearing the news about it being overturned

Tengen + wives(you and the wives tell tengen this)

"Okay! Anything for my darlings"

He may have four wives and wanted kids but he can wait,so can the girls!

Tengen is #1 supportive besides rengoku

Is a big BIG advocate for your rights

"I cannot replace any of you,I love you all and would hate myself if anything happened to you"

Cuddly,super cuddly after hearing the news

Wants to take care of it but CAN'T and wants to scream

Happily helps you four get proper treatment if you were pregnant and something went wrong,he will force a doctor to help

"Kids can wait! You're more important" insert snuggles with everyone

Rengoku

"The rengoku legacy can wait!"

Immediately does it,big supporter,definitely riots with people and probably started a few fires lets be honest

As well as tengen,he will snuggle you when he hears the news! Treats you like a queen if you're not feeling well about it

Will wait,can and will wait(he doesn't die from akaza here),convinces you that he is okay with your choice and will 100% support you

If you are pregnant, same as tengen,if something goes wrong durring a pregnancy then he WILL focus on your health over the baby's

Yells "womens rights" at some hater,loves the terrified look on their face when he yells at them

Giyuu

"Okay"

Same as muzan in a sense,he does support you-literally cannot show it to save his life

Has it done,tells you one night and then just cuddles you after

Super silent but by all the gods,he dosen't just jump out the window and fix the problem himself

Hates how much is going backwards

Even if you weren't a woman(ex: ftm) he STILL supports you,he dosen't care-he just wants your comfort cause he loves you that much

Sanemi

"Okayyyyy? I have a meeting,I'll focus on that after" dosen't really settle in until he goes for a quickie and you stop him(a rare chance that he apologizes right then and there)

Dosen't like people even more after hearing the news

Is a bit extra aggressive in the next few days,extra possessive around you too

He has it done the moment he has free time

Not as vocal but he did beat a persons face after they yelled "abortion is murder"

Sanemi is a huge supporter,doesn't show it as much unless hes super irritated and most likley says "shut it,people with women parts need rights,yet that's not happening,a sword has more rights than a woman!"

Hates the whole thing about your rights not being kept,very vocal about it and rants alot if you can get him going on the topic

--------

[icaruskeyartist]

I’m so confused at this book. I looked up a review and it’s 3 hours long. What are skylings. Death at 25? Curses? Heart Eating???

Also I dare you to rewrite it to be good cause your ideas on fixing it sound interesting to me. Pls 🥺

That 3 hour long review is the best in depth review I've seen, but Reads with Rachel does more of a 30 minute-ish (I think?) review that seems pretty fair. I don't agree with her on everything she says in all her reviews (dif book she said it's unrealistic for a teenager to care about stainless steel appliances and granite tabletops/that they are on tiktok not HGTV. Clearly she's never been on renovation tiktok and also I feel personally insulted for my 16 year old self) --- but she does a pretty decent job talking about the book imo.

Skylings is the word used to describe one of the kingdom's peoples. They're supposed to have sky/air based powers. For example, the king of the Skylings just created a storm cloud inside during a banquet where I'm at reading. The other kingdoms are Star, Moon, Night, Wild, and Sun. I don't fully get everyone's powers yet. I do know from Rachel's review that it takes most of the book to get to everyone's powers explicitly.

The curses were made 500 years ago, and the book is supposed to be about the current rulers trying to break said curses. For some reason, everyone has decided one of the rulers needs to die to break the curses of everyone else. Because of ???, the rulers lives are tied directly to their people. If the rulers die without an heir, the entire kingdom dies. The rulers are not allowed to have heirs before the meeting since apparently the curse won't break but continue on.

That's supposed to be the stakes of the book. But there's zero tension because we still have all six kingdoms 500 years later. They're not doing a very good job trying to break their curses.

Death at 25: that's the Starlings' curse. They die at 25. Everyone. That's it, that's the curse. It's very anti-climatic, but those rulers are allowed to create an heir in between these meetings so they don't just die out.

Heart eating: This is one of the Wildlings' curses (they get two because Isla is a Wildling so things gotta be extra special I guess?). Wildlings, if they fall in love, basically have a psychotic break and kill their beloved. I like to imagine it's like when Hercules went mad and killed his wife and kids (he was made mad temporarily by Hera, who hated him, and this is why he went on to perform his 7 trials). They also have to eat human hearts 1-2 times a month. It is not clear if this is meant to totally replace their diet or if it's a supplement, though the way I'm reading it's a total replacement and they can eat normal food but not gain the needed nourishment from it.

I really am tempted. I've got a bit (300 pages) to read through, most of which will probably be tomorrow cause I'm going on a field trip and gonna be on a bus for like four hours. @transmascrage has been pretty instrumental in expanding my thoughts for what the rulers can do. So it's gonna be good!

I hope I helped with some of the questions. When I'm done reading, I'll do a short write up with the biggest points, and probably make a video review/developmental workthrough.

[saberies-stuff]

Random Ramblings: Lena Luthor

Welp, when I came up with the idea for this series a month ago, I couldn’t imagine how drastically necessary it would turn out to be. I won’t get into my finale thoughts, I already said some of that last night and I’m working through the rest of it via fanfic, so I’ll just say WHAT A MESS and leave it there. As promised, now that the show’s over I’m going to be discussing each major character and throwing out ideas for how the show could have given each one a better, more coherent storyline. And since there’s no sense leaving the elephant in the room, I’m going to start with what I feel to be one of the worst storylines and arguably one of the worst characters of the whole show: Lena Luthor.

Probably my biggest criticism of Lena's storyline is the way she was constantly going back and forth between good and evil. This got old fast, folks. It made it impossible to tell what kind of person Lena really was, and the show often presented her in different ways at different times. Sometimes she was a stone-cold villain, sometimes she was a good person who'd let herself be led astray, and sometimes they tried to make her both at once (and failed miserably). In my opinion, one of the best ways to improve Lena's plotline would be to pick one option and stick with it.

Option One: Lena Luthor Is A Good Person

If we're going with this option, we can wave goodbye to a pretty large portion of the show- Lena's whole tantrum over Kara's secret (which is a good thing to wave goodbye to, because it was infuriating). The Lena we'd get in this storyline would be the Lena we were introduced to all the way back in Season Two: someone who is genuinely good at heart, but tripped up by the evil associated with her family name, and that would be her arc through the entire thing. No more wondering whether she's really good or bad deep down; this Lena would know from the start who she is, and the struggle would only come from getting everyone else to believe it, sparing the viewers a whole unnecessary ton of "am I truly a Luthor?" melodrama in the process.

I'm not saying Lena would have to be a wholly good, morally upright person like Kara. I actually quite like the two as foils to each other, and I think Katie McGrath plays the morally gray type of characters very well. But this version of Lena would never do any "villain" things, like Non Nocere or using Kryptonite on Kara; instead, I'd like to see her as someone who, though mostly good at heart, is a little darker and willing to do shadier stuff than the rest of the Superfriends. Ideally her role would be quite a bit smaller as well; she took a lot of screentime away from characters who were more crucial to Kara's journey, like Alex, and since Kara should have stayed the center of the show, that's a problem that needs to be fixed. I never liked how Lena replaced Winn as Kara's best friend, either. Winn and Kara's friendship broke the cliche that women can't have close male friends, and I think something important was lost when Kara's best friend was changed to a woman. I imagine Lena playing a role similar to Clark's or M'gann's: she pops in when the Superfriends need her and there's something story-wise for her to do, and the rest of the time the show focuses on people who mean more to Kara.

We can actually keep a lot of the show's storylines by going this route. Everything with Lillian and Project Cadmus still works in this context, but instead of Lillian tempting Lena back to being a "real Luthor," the conflict between them would stem from the fact that, if anyone found out it was Lillian behind Cadmus, Lena's efforts to prove the Luthor name could stand for good would be worthless. We can also keep Lena's involvement with the Worldkillers. That lines up with her new role as someone who does the shadier stuff the rest of the Superfriends can't or won't do. (I think I would drop the part about her making Kryptonite and hiding it from Kara, though. That's too villain-y for this version of Lena).

What we can't keep with this Lena is pretty much everything from Seasons 5 and 6. I'd be okay with her shooting Lex and him revealing Kara's secret, but everything after that? Out the window. A Lena who's a good person would never be angry at Kara for withholding a secret that Lena was never entitled to. A Lena who's a good person would never try to mind-rape the world, turn Eve into a flesh-and-blood robot, or poison Kara with Kryptonite. Those, ladies and gents, are villain things, so they need to be axed if we're going to call Lena a good person. But if you happen to be attached to those plot points and want to keep them, there's always another path...

Option Two: Lena Luthor Is A Villain

I'm going to come right out and say that I favor this one. I think there's more evidence pointing towards it in canon. The Lena we got in the show failed to convince me that she really is, deep down, a good person, despite how much the show tried to make that case. I actually think it would have been very impactful for Lena to be shown as a straight-up villain; sure, Supergirl was about hope, but I think it would have meant quite a bit for Kara to realize that she can't inspire everyone to be better, that some people are the way they are and aren't going to change and there's nothing you can do about it. That's a lesson I was learning first-hand while watching the show as things came to a head with my abusive father, and it would have meant the world to see a TV show address it, as opposed to the same tired "you can fix everyone if you just try hard enough!" narrative. That's not true, in some cases it's not safe, and it's a trope that needs to die.

So in this version of things, the final two seasons of the show wouldn't be about the fight for Lena's soul, but about Kara, who's canonically described as "believing that everyone is as kind and good as she is," coming to grips with the falseness of that belief as she deals with Lena's betrayal. The Kryptonite poisoning, the enslaving Eve, the Non Nocere, that all happens. But this time around, they're presented as what they truly are, the actions of a villain, and Lena would be held fully accountable for them instead of getting by scot free with a tearful apology or two. I don't care if that means she ends up in prison, if she dies, whatever. She could even have an "earns redemption by sacrificing herself" moment, if the show really wanted that. But there would be some kind of price to pay for the abuse, narcissism and flat out evil she inflicted on so many people, because that's justice, and justice is one of the things the Superfam is supposed to be all about.

(The other good thing about this? It keeps the focus on Kara. Ya know, where it BELONGS).

Other Things We Can Axe

--The Walmart Witch plot. Oh, God, the Walmart Witch plot. It wasn't needed, it wasn't done well, and on a show where most of the action was sci-fi rather than magic, it didn't fit. In fact, we can lose Lena's bio mom too. Lena's conflict was supposed to stem from her identity as a Luthor, and Elizabeth Walsh adds nothing to that conversation. I would even say we can drop Ireland altogether; it always felt forced, like it was just there to explain Katie's not-so-great attempts at hiding her accent. We didn't need it.

--The romance with James. That poor man did not deserve that, especially seeing how the racist crazies reacted to it. Do James and Mehcad both a favor and drop it.

--Everything with Andrea. Honestly, how many rich narcissistic billionaires did this show make apologies for? And what was Andrea's whole point, again? She was a replacement for Cat and a mirror of Lena and we didn't need her either way.

One last thing: I've seen some people suggesting that the show should have included Lena's disability from the comics. I, as a disabled person, am here to tell you GOOD GLORY NO. There's already a stereotype of disabled people as selfish manipulators who try to make everything about them and their issues. We do not need that literally playing out on our TV screens and I am so glad the show didn't go there.

So there you have it, my thoughts on Lena Luthor! These posts are probably going to be quite long, so if you made it this far down, thanks for reading! Leave me a comment and tell me who I should tackle next!

[stephanythedramaqueen]

I loved icarus so much omg, possibly the best darklina fic I've read. Could you perhaps hint at when chapter 2 will come out?

I don't deserve your compliment, bestie, because I just KNOW there are better fics out there than mine and there are definitely some iconic darklina fics that deserve this praise more! I mean, your kind words still make me roll around, blushing like an idiot and such, even if I feel like it's undeserved for little ol' me!

I know I've been lingering on too long with that second chapter 😭 I'm so sorry! I promise that after this chapter I won't be taking this long to update the fic! All I can promise you is that the chapter is HUGE so hopefully it'll be worth the wait. Forgive me, bestie. But! In the mean time, have this preview while you wait, which is almost a direct continuation of this snippet right here I released earlier, which will hopefully placate my lovely readers who are awaiting my update. Enjoy 😘

Even among all the glittering jewels and invaluable treasures, and a necklace on her worth millions of roublii, Alina couldn't miss the Darkling's enthralling eyes focusing on her and only her, when there were countless of breathtaking treasures around her.

The necklace was so long it would have rested between her breasts. The Darkling stared at her in a way as if she made the necklace beautiful and not the other way around. She wished he would stop looking at her like that; his gaze consumed her, setting her body ablaze in a way she tried to ignore with hopeless effort.

His voice was quiet, a smooth timbre that unwillingly caressed her senses. "You are stunning, my Alina."

Alina tried hard not to tremble, not by the way he studied her or by his words. The shivers still fluttered in her belly, no matter how much she hated them. She sounded weak to her own ears, reduced to a boneless mess by something as foolish as a simple compliment from him.

"I'm not yours."

"You always were, Alinochka." He repeated from once before, a possessive vow in his next words. "And you always will be."

Alina bristled, glad to have rage replacing the electrifying feeling coursing through her body because of him. "Until one of us destroys the other."

The Darkling seemed amused, as if the prospect was highly unlikely to him. That only angered Alina more. "You think so?" He asked with a too complacent smile.

Oh, how she'll enjoy bringing him down from that elite pedestal he placed himself on. "I'll have you on your knees one day, Darkling." Alina hissed, hoping that will happen sooner rather than later. "And when I do, I'll drive a Grisha steel blade through you."

Her threats were supposed to intimidate him, barring that, at least invoke the same wrath she felt. But his grey eyes only darkened and he neared her, like a predator would to a cornered prey.

He was suddenly too tall and too close to her, and Alina could only hope that her heart raced because of fear and not because of his proximity. He leaned towards her until all she could see was his face, perfect despite his scars, too tempting perhaps because of his scars, ever entrancing her in a way that no one else but he could.

The worst thing he did then was touch her, skin to skin, his fingers lightly ghosting over the side of her neck. Alina hated it. She told herself that she would flinch away from him and yet when his hand caressed up her cheek, her body disobeyed her command to move.

With nothing between them except the direct warmth of his touch, his fingers sinking into her white hair and his thumb caressing her cheek that almost made her lean into him. He was awfully intoxicating and his quartz eyes kept her hypnotized, when she knew she shouldn't let this happen.

She would have preferred plain old torture to the feeling of their bond opening between them.

"Trust me, Alina," the Darkling leaned ever closer, nose to nose, a dark whisper against her mouth. "When I go to my knees before you, it'll be to conquer, not to surrender."

The heavy flow of desire through their tether made her gasp; she did not know whose it was, his or hers. Their bond was thick with yearning and hunger, salacious in its amount, that it left Alina dizzy. The longing shot straight down her body, aching in a place within her that shouldn't ache for him at all.

This connection between them was the worst kind of agony. They were made too aware of each other, too in tune with every touch on one another, every emotion that could not remain hidden. Alina could practically feel how much the Darkling wanted to kiss her, how he had yearned to kiss her for the entire duration that they were within the vault.

The worst of it all, the utter betrayal to her own, was how much she wanted that too.

She denied it. She denied to admit that, even to herself, even if the sensual implication of his words made her legs weak. She loathed him irregardless if he made hot heat course through her every nerve, she could not afford to be feeling this way about that monster in any capacity.

Her breath seemed to come up short, as if she's been running a marathon without a break, and she wrenched away from him. For a second she felt disoriented and drunk on hate and desire, disheveled in a way even if she remained wholly untouched.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

A Helping Hand

a/n: It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fic. Ive been working on my health considering how much stress I was under at my old job, but I’m doing much better now. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this.

This fic is set before Zeta 7 and the reader were dating, and when they were still friends. Set during and before the beginning of The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick series.

In this fic the reader only wants to help.

————-

It was almost time for you to eat again. At times it almost seemed to be more of a chore than a necessity to have a meal or to follow the routine of it, but hunger had led you here. And although there were many other things you might've preferred to do, this was what had to be done at the moment. Anticipatory feelings were lacking as you opened up the fridge; had it been conveniently full of delicious food which didn't need to be put together, and could simply be warmed up, that would have been great, but that was wishful thinking. Of course, you hadn't gone food shopping yet, so your old fridge was bare; eating out was an option, but you already did that for lunch and it didn't feel worth getting properly dressed for.

It had been while you were thinking of a creative way to use elbow pasta and ketchup when a song played through the tiny speakers of your phone; it was a phone call and you didn't have to hesitate to answer; it was from your favorite person; from Rick. You tried not to get too excited whenever he would call, but you couldn't help yourself; hearing his voice alone could make you happy. Pressing the green answer button on your touch screen, you smiled despite his inability to see it. “Hello Rick. How are you?”

“He-hello? I'm um - I'm fine. I hope this - is this a-a good time?”

His usual soft, cheerful voice seemed reluctant, almost shy tonight. You always thought he sounded sweeter over the phone, and it just made you want to tease him a little. Leaning against your kitchen counter, you could not help but laugh. “A good time? It is now. So, what’s up? Other than the ceiling. ”

He chuckled at that and you were relieved he couldn't see you at this moment, for the warmth in your cheeks would take a couple of minutes to recover from. “Gosh," he started, "I-I-I-I-I was just wondering if y-you would like to come over. It’s almost time for dinner and I um - I finished cooking, but…”

“You cooked too much again?”

“Y-yeah.”

"You're going to go through all your groceries that way."

"I-I couldn't help it." he confessed. "This recipe called f-for a certain amount of ingredients, but then a-again I guess it's f-for multiple servings."

You heard him sigh, and the thought of his frowning face came to mind. So, this was simply to invite you to dinner: it didn't matter what he might've called you for; the answer was almost always yes. As of late, Rick had been cooking more than one person could eat at a time; you always did think it was odd that he'd cook in abundance, especially since he lived alone, but he'd blame it on old habits. However, it made you wonder if he was looking for reasons not to eat alone; not that you minded. Interrupting the silence, you commented. “Well, I guess I'll have to help you make it disappear then."

"Huh?" he brightened, "Is that a-a yes?"

"What do you think it means? Yes, that's a yes. Goodness," you giggled. "I'll see you soon.”

You hung up and rushed back upstairs to change. What a silly man you thought. Such a silly…but adorable man, who had so much room for kindness and doubt.

——————

It was lovely to see him, and to listen to what he'd call gossip but was only the latest development of the pigeons which had made a nest in one of his fruit trees. "Y-you gotta see how they've made their nest. Boy, it's - it's fascinating how they used s-some old magazine clippings and hair ties."

Touching his hand lightly, you wondered. "Do you have any pics of them that you can show me?"

With raised brow, he started. “Sh-sh-show you?"

"Yeah," You leaned forward a little, and smiled. "I want to see what you've been telling me about."

Without hesitation, he searched his labcoat pockets and retrieved his phone; scrolling through his gallery until he came across said pictures. "I-I-I-I took these a couple of - of days ago."

Your fingers lightly brushed his palm as you grabbed his phone to glance through the pictures; he had a good eye for angles and lighting, and from the looks of it, the pigeons seemed to be relaxed so he might've fed them first; how nice. "They're so cute. I can’t get over how fluffy they look."

Replacing the phone into his palm, he visibly tensed; your fingers had brushed his palm again. Now, the urge to allow your hand to linger there was strong and the thought of lacing your fingers with his had been tempting, but you did neither. You quickly withdrew, with a new sense of embarrassment over such thoughts. He wouldn't understand how you felt, because he didn't see you that way.

“How do y-y-you like them?”

Hiding behind your water glass, you answered. “Way more than I thought I would.”

_________

Rick was still eating, but not with the same vigor from earlier. You wondered if you had insulted him or something; he had been avoiding direct eye contact for a while. You were no reader of minds, so there was no telling of the feelings inside; of those senses which couldn't be touched. "Rick, is something wrong? Have I….. have I overstayed my welcome and you don't know how to tell me? Is...is that why you won't look at me?"

"N-no, that's not it."

"Then, did I hurt your feelings? I hope not."

He sagged a little in his seat, and he didn't answer, but he shook his head no. You thought back to earlier, and how you had looked at the pictures he took and called them cute, but other than that, you didn't say anything problematic. Was it because you asked? Maybe it wasn't.

It was easy to hurt his feelings being as sensitive as he was, and although it might've been against your better judgment, you reached out and touched the back of his hand. "Please talk to me. I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry. I don't want you to be upset at me."

With widened eyes, he's gazed at your hand, then back towards you. "No, that’s not th-the problem."

"Then why are you so quiet all of a sudden? It isn't like you."

"It's because I…I'm s-s-sorry I talk so much."

"What do you mean? Where is this coming from?"

"It appeared as though y-you were getting tired of all my talking.” He started in an almost accusatory manner but must've realized how it sounded and continued with more calmness. “Gee, I-I didn't want to sour the evening, s-s-so I thought I should just sh-shut up."

"But I don't want you to do that. I love all your talking."

"R-really?"

His surprise at this pained you. How could he think that you'd tire of it and him? Maybe when you were thinking, he mistook it as disinterest. How could you show him you cared? You did what only seemed natural and squeezed his hand but he stiffened.

You realized that when he didn't answer right away, that the napkin he had been using had been dropped and was now on the floor; a faint blush dusting his cheeks and the tops of his ears. You didn't think that it'd be such a big deal to randomly touch him, but you thought it was sweet that he'd get flustered like that; if he wasn't so shy at times, you'd think there was more to it; if only there was. "It's fun hearing you talk.” You confessed. “I feel as though I have so much I can learn from you. So feel free to talk to me."

The relief that washed over him was palpable and he smiled warmly at this. It made your heart swell, and you withdrew your hand although it appeared that he wouldn't have minded. Still, you didn't want to upset him again with misunderstandings. "Y-you're a really nice person. It's - I'm glad t-to know someone like you."

You were glad too.

____________

"Anyway, it's interesting how they can take one man's trash and turn it into a home, but what could they do if given better materials?"

Taking a drink of water, he managed to recover a little. "I-I bet they could make a-a work of art if given the right materials. Wh-why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know what you were thinking in that brain of yours. Must be interesting, especially with all the things you can come up with."

Yes, you did find the topic of pigeons fascinating but not as much as you found that toothy grin of his inviting. Having finished eating, you listened happily to his delightful little tales and knowings; watching as he'd start eating but then forget his food when he was at the peak of his explanation. He always did seem more cheerful when you were over and had so much to tell you when you were here, but you attributed that to the fact that he didn't have many friends. Though, you didn't mind his need for conversation; rather you enjoyed how random and easy it was to talk with him; his sweetness enriched your soul whenever he was especially happy and attentive in conversation. Handing him a new napkin, you teased. "I'm surprised you haven't made a mini-mansion type birdhouse for them out of whatever spare wood you have in the garage. Unless you already have. I bet it'd be all tricked out with a little warm birdbath and a small mirror so they can check themselves out, fluff their feathers and such."

"Gosh," he sighed, waving his fork a little as he ruminated on his thoughts before the beginnings of a boyish smile appeared on his lips. "did I already tell y-you about that?"

"No," you giggled; happy that your assumptions weren't farfetched. "but I took a wild guess."

He was that kind of guy after all; soft-hearted and fond of the living things around him; it was one of the many qualities that endeared him to you. You wished you could've taken part in its construction. "If you had told me sooner," you mentioned. "I would have helped. I could've helped painting it or something."

"Gosh, I thought y-you had other things to do so I…it wasn't a-a big deal. It was simply an um - an old man's hobby."

"It's just….it sounded like fun. I know it might not mean much saying this, but I would've enjoyed spending that time with you. Working side by side and discussing little details about it. I would…. You see, I love spending time with you."

It was only after you had said all that, in which you realized how easy it would've been to misconstrued. Sitting there, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands; wondering what was with you these days. Since when was it okay to get bold and be frank like that? Every so often, when you did say such things, you saw, for fractions of moments, confusion and more….as though he ought to say something; there were no tears and there never was, but you thought he seemed hurt; glassy-eyed and lost. Studying you, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again; preferring to examine his napkin and tableware then to continue that thought.

He did this often, especially when you surprised him; for better or worse. Perhaps he didn't want to appear foolish, but whatever he could've said was interrupted by your sudden movement. You reached over for his empty dish and went over to the sink to begin on the dishes. However, he jumped up and insisted that you needn't help to clean, snapping out of whatever mood which might've overcome him a moment ago. You thought it was the least you could do; if you had been a decent cook you would've offered a meal in return, but it wasn't likely that it was going to happen. "Rick, you cooked so I might as well help you clean."

"Gosh, y-you don't have to do that. I was the one that invited you over. As th-the host, it's my responsibility."

"That may be true," you reasoned, feeling responsible for him in some way. "but you're always doing stuff for me, so I thought I'd stay and help for a bit."

"Huh? Wh-what?"

"Yeah. I mean what good are friends if you can't put them to work every so often? Besides," you quieted a bit as you scrubbed away at the baking pan. "I want to help you."

It's not like you were using this as an excuse to stay a little longer now. Right? Well, just a little. It was still early and you didn't want to go home yet. Grabbing a kitchen towel, he chuckled lightly. "Well, I-I guess I'll help y-you dry."

Standing beside you, his warmth radiated off him, and from this close, you could smell spices, a hint of vanilla, and motor oil? Perhaps it was the scent of his house, but it was comforting. Good thing you had the excuse of concentrating on scrubbing because otherwise, it would've been obvious on how affected you were by him.

_______

After you finished wiping down the counters, you checked the time and thought you'd be better off heading on home. Grabbing your keys you were ready to say goodbye, but he followed you to the door. "Are y-y-you going?"

Without facing him, you nodded. "I am."

"Then I'll walk y-you home."

"Okay."

In the past, you had told him that it wasn't necessary since you lived so close, but you came to enjoy those small moments of kindness; of his sincere care for your well-being that made the world a slightly easier place to live. The walk didn't take long since you only lived a few doors down, but it was lovely nonetheless. "Thank you for the food. It was really good."

Scratching the back of his neck, he answered. "I-I hoped you would. I um - I enjoyed y-your company."

"Me too."

You played with your keys a little, wondering why you should be so nervous. It's not like you two were dating; it's not like he'd even consider the possibility, but it was moments like this that made you hope and contemplate if you should just tell him. It was always on tip of your tongue; the words which begged to be said, but you weren't feeling brave yet. You needed more time; just enough to be ready for a change. There was no rush, but logic and feelings didn't coincide. "Rick," you started, unsure of what you were doing. "can I um….can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes! Of c-course. What's on y-your mind?"

Think of something you thought. "You'd tell me if you needed help, wouldn't you? I'm not talking about what we did this evening, but stuff that….like if you need help with your chores or something. I know you get busy sometimes and I'd hate it if you weren't all caught up on the latest news about your pigeons or if there were dishes that needed washing."

"Gosh, I-I thought I was doing f-fine with all that," he confessed. "but it - I'll be sure t-to let you know."

"Good, that's...that's good because I'm always happy to help you."

Gathering whatever foolishness which laid at the pit of your stomach and daydreams, you rested a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. "Rick, I'd do almost about anything for you….that is…if that's….. that is what friends are for, right? At least that's what I think."

Though, was that what you thought? Wasn't this just a roundabout way of saying you wanted to be around him more? Oh, if only he could understand. You knew it wasn't right to mislead him, but he never reacted the way you thought he should.

Glancing down at where your hand still laid, a wistful, almost sad quality passed across his stormy eyes before continuing. "Boy, th-that's thoughtful," he began, though as easily as a summer sky could change so did his words. "but I-I wouldn't want t-to bother you or take up your time with anything like that."

"That's the thing, it wouldn't be a bother at all."

This is where you thought you'd messed up, but you couldn't seem to keep quiet when he was involved. It felt as though you were trying to monopolize your way into spending more time with him; as though you were desperate to get him to be around you. "I mean, as a writer, I can just do my job whenever. So, you don't have to hesitate."

That familiar flit of sadness passed over his eyes again and you thought that maybe he pitied you because all you had in the world was yourself and a house you simply inherited. You didn't want to tell him you were lonely, because if you did, you didn't want him to think that it was the only reason you spent time with him; it'd break your heart if you hurt this sensitive creature, but you couldn't help yourself; it was your selfishness talking. True, you were making this more complicated than it had to be, but you didn't know how to fix that yet. "I just…I don't mind being around you more and hanging out. That's all."

Although, it might've not been as complicated after all for it didn't take much for him to lift up your moods. All he had to do was smile, and to pull you into his arms for a big hug. Did he know?

"Rick?"

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, he confessed. "Gee, it's - I-I appreciate your worrying a-about me," he started, his soft, warm voice brushing past your ear and giving you goosebumps. "but I can't - can't help but wonder why y-you look as though you could use a friend right now. Are you al-alright? Did y-you want t-t-to talk about it?"

Your fingers dug into the worn fabric of his sweater and you wanted to cry because he was so devastatingly kind, and you knew in that one moment it didn't matter how long you held on to him; he'd let you hold him for as long as you needed because he was great at empathizing. Little did he know it unraveled your heart every time. "You're right Rick, I do need a friend. I…I need...."

You; the word which refused to leave your mouth. His assumption filled in the blank. "You probably miss your dad on nights like this huh? It's hard t-to go home to an empty house."

That was partly true. "Mhm."

Rubbing your back, he sighed. "Th-there there. Everything is going t-t-to be alright."

Is it? Would it be alright? No, he didn't know or if he did, he ignored it. Though, like this, you could almost believe there was more to this relationship than… then being good friends.

With your face hidden in the softness of his sweater, held so sure and firm, with such strength that seemed unnatural for one his age, he was as you thought of him; as a man you held in the highest regard, beyond reason or doubt that you could love if…if it was appropriate. Why couldn't he stay that friend that you needed and why did you wish for more than this? Was this to be your punishment? To adore someone who made you happy but couldn't be more than society should allow?

"Will I be alright?" you confessed more to yourself than to him.

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, you felt him nod. "Y-you're young, so y-you will be."

That's right, you were young; too young for him. While you had been ready to beat yourself up for it, he continued in a voice that was above a whisper. "I'd like t-t-to help you if I can but only if y-you want me to. Is that o-okay? Do you want me t-to?"

You wanted so much, but more than anything you wanted what he was willing to give. Rubbing his back in a similar, soothing motion, you softened. "Please do."

Another sigh escaped him, but he continued to rub your back; the warmth of his hands and sounds of his breathing making you a little sleepy. You hadn't been checking the time, but you were sure that it had been a while. What you hadn't been sure of was what the neighbors were going to think if they saw you two in such a warm embrace at this time of the evening or anytime for that matter; you didn't care because this felt right. It was as though you could melt into him with how comforting it was. Who knows how long you must've held onto him, but eventually you heard him say softly, albeit oddly disappointed. "It's getting late and I-I should let you go. It's…and you…but y-you can always call me if you - if you can't sleep."

Glancing up at him, you wondered why it ever had to end. However, with reluctance, you pulled away, but only enough so that you could hold him a little longer. "You're right. I…I should go to bed. Thank you for the lovely evening, my wonderful… my friend."

And with that, you released your hold on him. However, if you hadn't known any better, the look he gave you was softer than his usual ones. Was…no…it must've been nothing. A trick of the dim porch light. Half hidden by the dark, he confessed. "Thank you f-for being my - for being my friend. It makes me happy t-to have you around. I'll um - I'll be sure t-to make myself more available to you if you need me."

Your heart ached with half affection, half guilt. You really were asking for so much you didn't deserve. "Oh Rick, I'd appreciate that."

For a quick second, you saw him stretch out his hand but just as quickly let it fall back to his side. Then, he stepped back and reminded you. "Don't forget t-to lock the door."

"I won't."

You opened your front door, and smiled up at him from your doorway, trying to channel all that you felt in a single word; knowing that was all you could do for now. "Goodnight."

Softening, he turned away quickly, mostly hidden in the darkness, and waved. "D-don't let th-the bed bugs bite."

Closing the door behind you, you barely made it to the couch before you began to cry. What were you thinking? Playing around with a lonely man's feelings and possibly confusing him. Could you ever get over him? Would your heart let you?

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you thought back to only minutes ago when you were secure in his arms, and you felt as though you belonged to him. And how your blouse smelled like him now or that his care for you was almost enough. Though, were his actions like that of a parent? You could only wonder. Though, if you couldn't get over him, couldn't you help change his mind?

When you had calmed a little and had time to change and get a drink of water, you found that you still weren't sleepy. It was late but before you could give it much forethought, you dialed his number and he picked up right away. "C-can't sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Me either. I um - I was thinking a-about what you said about th-the birdhouse. While it is built, and I'd painted it, I would be happy t-t-to have you over when you're available and help me make it pretty. Gosh, it's - it's only if you want to."

"That would be lovely. Too bad it's late because I would've come over now if you'd asked."

"Y-you see, that wouldn't um - tomorrow would be better."

"What's the matter? A little sleepover never hurt anybody." You teased.

Right away you heard a clatter and then a crack. Did he drop his phone?

"Rick? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I-I-I-I just - my phone had fallen."

"I see. Sorry for the bad joke."

“It's o-okay. Just surprised me is -is all.”

A chair scraped the floor, and you heard the click of either a pen or a small appliance. "I-I don't think I'll be able to sleep t-tonight but I won't keep you up with m-my thoughts. It'd get kind of boring for you."

"I mean, I am tired, but I don't mind listening to you for a while. Could you just talk? It can be about anything."

He sighed into the phone, and you heard paper. Perhaps he was flipping through a book. “I-I was thinking of reading, but my eyes are a-a bit tired.”

“When you do read, do you only read nonfiction?”

“I-I like to read a little bit of everything.”

“You do? Well, how convenient. I happen to have a bunch of books and if you'd ever like to borrow any of them, you're free to do so.”

“Boy, I'll have to take a-a look the next time I’m over. Hey, um - I do have a-a story you might enjoy. It has t-t-to do with how I came to have jasmine in my backyard. Would you like t-to hear it?”

Grabbing a pillow, you nodded. “Yes, I really would. Though, tell it slowly so that I don't miss a thing.”

With a chuckle, he began to explain, and you placed the phone beside you; careful as to not drop it as his sing-song voice twisted and curled about you in your lonely room.

Fin

[mythiica]

Hi! If you want requests, then I won't hold back !! and I'll bring flowers to your grave! 😹 So may I request some jealous/possessive Lucien smut? (No problem if we need to bath in holy water after reading it...if you know what I mean 😸)

Title: Chubby Bunny ChallengeFandom: Mr. Love Queen’s ChoiceCharacter: LucienGenre: smuttysmutKinks: masturbation, teasing, dirty talk, face fucking/blowjob, marking, possessiveness, cumshot, reverse missionary (?)Warnings: noneIntended Gender Audience: Female Audience Word Count: 2000 wordsPOV: second personOther comments: hi senpai im 5 years late but i hope u like! Merge with: 

“Who would have guessed that our favorite idol and our favorite producer would be competing in a good old fashioned game of Chubby Bunny?”  the host squeals to the camera. 

          You try to wipe the drool with your sleeve to save yourself the embarrassment of rewatching this episode later. Kiro looks the same, mouth filled with marshmallows as he tries his best to say the two words without making a fool of himself. 

         When you agreed to join him as the “guest star,” you did not expect to find yourself sitting in front of a camera playing Chubby Bunny with your best friend. 

         I completely forgot to mention that the theme is old trends! Kiro apologizes before you go live. 

         Now, the two of you are here. 

         You push another marshmallow into your cheeks and gag slightly on it before composing yourself and mouthing “Chuffy bonny–“ 

         The host raises an eyebrow at you. “I’ll let it pass! Kiro, your turn.” 

         Lucien watches this strange episode, with a slight delay, from the comforts of your bedroom. Had he remembered that the recording was happening today, he would have driven from work to the studio to watch you from backstage. 

         However, he does not really mind being at home, because it gives him the freedom to fantasize… So much so, that Lucien slips his hand into his sweatpants to stroke himself slowly. He rolls his fingers over his length and inhales sharply as precum starts to dribble from his tip. Lucien didn’t realize that he had gotten so hard from watching this mildly lewd game, but his ridge begs to be massaged. 

         Every time the camera pans to your face, Lucien imagines that your mouth is filled with his cock. Saliva slips down from the corners of your mouth, but still you continue to fit marshmallows one against another. It is truly a sight and it gives Lucien so many ideas. 

         You beat Kiro by at least five, totaling nearly seventeen marshmallows. Upon attempting the eighteenth, you gag a bit before spitting it all out.

         The white mess runs down onto the bib, only making Lucien groan louder to himself. He rewinds a bit when the audience starts clapping for you just to see you with tears in your eyes as you try to stuff marshmallows ten and eleven into your mouth. As the tension builds up in his cock, Lucien is tempted to pause the episode on your expression, but he lets it pass so that he can tuck his free hand inside his pants. Pumping his base and tip at the same time, Lucien tenses sharply, a cramp forming in his upper thigh, but he ignores it for the sake of orgasming. 

         Lucien groans as he cums, and the white of his release looks like the marshmallow concoction in your mouth. Raking his clean hand through his hair, Lucien pouts slightly, wishing you were here instead of still on the show. 

         The recording cuts to a commercial, giving Lucien a chance to clean himself up before seeing your face again. Lucien fast forwards through the host explaining the pocky game and pauses it to watch you come dangerously close to Kiro’s lips. He is well aware that you feel nothing for the idol, but he still feels a pang of jealousy and possessiveness stemming in his chest. 

         Your cheeks are a beautiful blush pink, likely from the makeup they required you wear for the episode, but it makes Lucien think about how easy it is to make you flush that color without enhancements. 

         Outside, the sound of people chattering pulls Lucien’s attention to the open window. He stands up and pulls his pants to rest low on his hips. Peeking over the windowsill, Lucien catches glimpse of your car pulling into the garage of the apartment complex. The negative emotions flutter away, replaced with happiness. 

         He waits at the door like a puppy and catches your wrist as you walk into the room. “Lucien!” 

         A smile stretches across his features. “Hello, beautiful. I’ve missed you.” Your boyfriend pulls you against his chest as he closes the door. The lock clicks into place as you cup Lucien’s face and kiss him lovingly. “You finished faster than I thought you would.” 

         “The recording is shown with an hour’s delay. And I thought you had work today.” You pick pillow fluff from his cotton shirt and smooth out the wrinkles. “I’m here now though!” 

         Lucien nuzzles against your touch and presses his forehead to yours. “You have been spending so much time with our blond friend as of late.” 

         “It’s only because I owed him a favor. He helped me last month with a last minute episode of my own show. Remember when you two played battleship?” 

         He nods and leads you to the kitchen where you set your purse down. “When I beat him badly at battleship. He’s cute, but he really does not know how to win at that game.” 

         “Be nice! He was trying to be polite.” 

         “It’s polite to lose?” Lucien teases. 

         You roll your eyes and hug your boyfriend from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder to look into the fridge. “I’m hungry.” 

         “You ate enough marshmallows and pocky to last you a week.” 

         “I had to spit them out after that challenge! I’ll have you know, I won the celebrity record of chubby bunny,” you say as-a-matter-of-factly. 

         Lucien leans back on his heels and pinches your side. “I saw, bunny.” 

         “What have you been up to?” Lucien offers you a bowl of fruit as he takes out other tupperware, trying to remember what leftovers are hiding in the back. “Besides watching me stuff my face with sugarry clouds.” 

         The smile dips into a smirk. 

         “Lucien?” 

         The container lands on the counter and a moment later, Lucien has you in his arms as he carries you to the bedroom. You giggle and wait to see where this is going, but are not expecting him to drop against the edge of the mattress and pull you between his legs. His grey sweatpants fall down to his ankles, revealing an erection Lucien had been carrying since you got home, and he brushes your hair back gently. 

         “I’ve been wishing you were here…” 

         Another fit of laughter bubbles in your throat, but you kiss his inner thigh before straightening your posture and dripping saliva onto his length. Lucien groans, savoring the look on your face. He remembered correctly: your eyelids dip down, giving you a lusty look. You’ve recreated it now, as you pump his length, making him harden more, before you lap at his pronounced ridge. 

         “You’re still wet from whatever you did earlier. Lucien, did you get off to me?!” 

         He smiles bashfully and nods as he lifts his shirt to expose his abdominal muscles. “You know the answer to that,” Lucien drawls. “Babygirl, I missed you–” 

         His words prompt you to start sucking along his length. The heat from your tongue makes Lucien shiver with joy, but you take pleasure in teasing him for too long. Lucien catches a handful of your hair to guide your mouth down. You swallow his cock and his tip rubs the back of your throat, making you gag slightly before you settle and start to pump his base. 

         This is what Lucien was missing – the lewd sounds you make every other moment as you try to fit him fully. Your lips swell as they move, but Lucien starts to face fuck you desperately, wanting to see how you would look with white painting your soft skin. 

         Every time Lucien bucks into your mouth, saliva bubbles at your lips, but you wipe it away and focus on sucking his length. Your fingernails dig into his thighs, making Lucien squirm and groan loudly. “Fuck… your tongue feels so much better–” 

         You do your best to smile as Lucien tucks your hair behind your ear. A moan rumbles in your throat, stimulating his cock even more. His muscles tense sharply and his mouth contorts in the shape of your name. Bitterness envelops your tongue, but you continue to suckle at his tip before popping off with a loud sound. 

         Lucien snaps quickly into reality and catches your chin between two fingers. “Show me.” He marvels at his cum on your tongue and prides himself in marking you. “Good girl…” 

         Sitting up, you turn to go to the bathroom, but Lucien catches your hand and pulls you on top of him. “Careful, we’re not done yet.” He kisses your throat, coaxing you to swallow the contents of your mouth, and you give in. A trickle of white runs across your lips, so Lucien kisses you deeply and takes care of it. 

         The next moment, Lucien strips you of your own clothes, discarding them carelessly on the floor next to the bed. He attacks your breasts next, circling his tongue around your nipple as you fumble with your pants to take them off. 

         “L-Lucien! Please, let me–” 

         Lucien grips your hips tightly as he leans backwards. You straighten your back and settle onto his cock – he stretches you more than you expect, but you moan gleefully when Lucien starts thrusting into you. He is quick to pull you down against his chest, but every time you try to sit back up, he presses his hand against the small of your back to keep you flushed down. 

         “Stay, babygirl, I like it when I can feel your warmth against my skin…” Lucien says this so softly that it makes your heart melt. Relaxing your muscles, you nuzzle against his chest and let Lucien buck up into you. Rolling your hips only allows him to reach deeper inside of you, until his cock hits against the spot that makes you moan loudly. 

         “Does it feel good?” 

         “Yes!”

         “Tell me more–” 

         You kiss Lucien deeply and run your hands across his bare chest. “I should have come home earlier if this what was waiting for me.” 

         Lucien grabs a handful of your ass and pulls your legs apart to fuck you faster. “At least now I get to mark you, no? Kiro got dangerously close to your mouth earlier, and I didn’t like it. These are mine~” He licks your lips and teethes on them slightly. 

         You gasp aloud and run your fingers through his hair to pull it back. He looks so good with his hair back, it makes you moan just at the sight. “I pulled back before we got too close though. Or did you get carried away doing.. other things?” you tease. 

         He grunts and slows his thrusts just to hold your face and look into your eyes. “We should do that some time, no?” 

         “I’m currently focused on this!” Grinding hard against him, you press your fingers down on his nipples and roll your hips. It makes Lucien frenetic, and the next moment you go numb from his powerful thrusts. 

         You fall over the edge of pleasure, your orgasm wrapping you in bliss. Usually Lucien likes to fuck you through your climax, but this time he pulls out and cums between your abdomens. His release is hot and sticky, as it rests against your skin. 

         Lucien smiles and laughs before shifting around so his cum spreads across your skin. “Hmm.. there, just like that. So you’re mine.” 

         Finally, you sit up and admire the mess on you. “Of course I’m yours, Lucien~” Leaning down, you press a kiss to his forehead. Lucien locks his arms around you for a hug, and once again he picks you up, but this time to carry you to the bathroom. You squeal and nuzzle against his neck, knowing that the two of you will be due for another round in the shower.