#and we do what we can. with the best intentions

[utilitycaster]

Something I think actual play is uniquely good at showing is, for lack of a better way to put it, narrative choice. You see the story that people decide to play out; you see the threads that people wanted to follow. You also can, if the GM shares their concepts, get an idea of some of the other possible paths not taken and stories not told, but ultimately they are untold. And finally, ironically enough for a medium with a random element, it makes creator intent unavoidably clear.

We see it all the time in Critical Role. There probably was a really fascinating story to be told with Vox Machina working with The Clasp following the fall of Emon. The party chose not to do it; we don't know what would have happened. I like many am intrigued by the Augen Trust path Matt had planned for the Mighty Nein; they didn't take it. We can't judge the story on what might have been, even if we find it interesting; we can only judge it on what was. And we don't follow the Clasp nor the Augen Trust as a result, because it's not where the PCs are; at most we might see the effects their actions taken without the aid of the PCs had on the world when their paths cross again. The camera, in D&D, always follows the PCs. You see what they see.

Essek was redeemed because the Mighty Nein wanted him to be redeemed. In actual play especially there's a weird tendency to switch to the passive voice to describe things one dislikes, but this choice was anything but passive. The party learned Essek had been lying to them and made their choice to remain his friends, and the story continues from that presumption, and while I am the first to reject the "but the cast liked it" argument, the fact is, one can't reject this redemption without rejecting the party's choice, and the party is controlled by the cast.

It's great to discuss paths not taken, and it's even true that you might believe those paths to be a better story. But you cannot rely on the camera - or the audience's interest and sympathy - to abandon the PCs desires and decisions just to suit yours. You can't do this as a GM, as another player, or as a viewer. Nor can you expect people to judge based on potential once it is no longer potential; a strong concept that is never followed doesn't count as the story; at best it counts as the GM or player's creative intent.

Actual Play forces people to take a story for what it is. I think the fandom can be so fraught because many people do not understand quite how it's limited in scope nor what is under GM control and what is not and so they act like choices are inevitable and inevitabilities are choices.

[haoboutyou]

gym crush | choi seungcheol

fluff | 1151 words | suggestive descriptions. i’m y/n’s just really thirsty

an: please take this as a formal invitation. requests are open! (whether i answer on time is another problem)

you don’t like the gym. absolutely not. it gets super hot and humid inside, it stinks of sweat, and the big machines always intimidate you.

what to do? you’re just a girl.

you usually wouldn’t even phantom the idea of stepping foot into the gym if it wasn’t for your best friend. really, the only reason why you’re even sitting in one right now was because you arrived too early for your meet up with him.

that’s how you ended up perched on a high stool, legs swinging as you patiently look around while soonyoung finishes up his last few sets of… pull-ups? you’re honestly not sure. how he’s still chatting with you while completing his sets – barely panting through it, too – is beyond you.

“so i was thinking,” soonyoung casually starts, lifting himself like he was made of paper. “we can get dinner at the new italian place downtown? i heard they’re having a opening promotion right now.”

“mmh, sounds good.” your eyes are flitting all around the gym, trying to find something interesting enough to catch your attention.

“right, i almost forgot! seokmin texted earlier; he said he’ll drive by to pick us up later too.”

“really? that’s great.” you sound enthusiastic but your hunched posture informs soonyoung otherwise. at this point, your best friend can tell that you’ve tuned out of the conversation. he huffs at the way your eyes zone into the far corner of the gym, where the weight benches are. soonyoung scoffs more when he realises your eyes are trained on a very specific person, watching intently at the way the muscles on his arms bulge every time he lifts a dumbbell.

“yeah, he also said he saw mingyu running into a tree earlier… even said a rat fell on him and started pulling at his hair and controlling him like a robot. do you think the rat would make a better chef than mingyu?”

“wow really? that’s great.” your replies get progressively monotonous as you keep your eyes trained at the corner. yeah, now he definitely knows your mind has completely left the conversation.

your breath hitched as you watched the mystery man run a hand through his faded red hair, baggy t-shirt sleeves hitched up to reveal more of his biceps? triceps? never have you ever wished you paid more attention to your biology lessons back in high school.

everything about this mystery man has you swooning. the thick veins on his hands running up his arms, the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration, how the sweat glistening on his forehead seemed to cast a heavenly glow all around him. you can’t forget the grunts he lets out with every movement, entrancing you with his deep voice. gosh, even his hands are perfect. an angel has descended to soothe all your gym-related problems, converting you into a devout worshipper of his physique.

you’ve never been more thankful for soonyoung’s suggestion to wait in the gym.

soonyoung’s arms may be burning from hanging on the pull-up bar for too long, but he just couldn’t believe his eyes; your mouth is hanging open and– wait, is that drool?! is his best friend really drooling over a man in the gym?!? a laugh of disbelief escapes him as he finishes the last of his rep. soonyoung mutters a quick prayer of thanks to god for gifting him prime blackmailing material. he drops back to the ground and swiftly snaps a picture of you, in all your thirsting glory, before he picks up the rest of his stuff.

“y/n,” he calls out. “i’m gonna hit the showers and then we can go. you good staying here on your own for a bit?”

“yeah, yeah! i’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.” you wave him off, not even bothering to turn towards your best friend. soonyoung lets out another tut as he turns towards the gym’s locker room. that is, before a brilliant idea comes into mind.

“hyung!”

the red-haired man turns towards soonyoung’s voice. “hoshi, you’re going already?”

your best friend nods his head, grinning at how your eyes seemed to pop out at the way he was casually talking to your new-found eye candy. “are you doing anything tonight? i’m meeting seokmin and the others for dinner later, wanna join?”

“kwon soonyoung!” you whisper-hiss. “what the hell are you doing? you guys know each other!?” is that blush creeping up your neck he sees? the tips of your ears tinge so pink soonyoung thinks he can almost feel the heat radiating from them.

“thanks, but i’ve already got plans.” the mystery stranger shoots you a gentle smile, flirty (flirty?!) wink (WINK?!?) towards you. still, you can’t hide your disappointment; you would’ve loved to get to know this new-found work of art more.. “maybe next time? you can properly introduce me to your pretty friend then too.”

soonyoung thinks he heard a strangled cry from you, coughing as you somehow manage to choke on your own saliva. he chuckles at your suffering. “sure, hyung. i think she’d like that too!”

soonyoung doesn’t know what to expect when he finally emerges from the locker room cleaned and refreshed, but it definitely wasn’t you raining attacks on his sore arms and shoulders. seungcheol (he had introduced himself to you while soonyoung was gone– in fact, the two of you managed a whole conversation while he was gone (no, you were so shy and embarrassed you were barely able to keep eye contact with him)) waves at the both of you as you leave the gym to wait for seokmin to arrive.

you’re convinced the blush on your cheeks is going to be a permanent feature of tonight. it doesn’t help that it becomes the main topic during dinner with seokmin and mingyu, the other two boys cracking up at soonyoung’s dramatic retelling of your new-found gym crush.

(it also doesn’t help that you had a balled up fist under the table all night, hiding the hastily written phone number on a piece of paper that seungcheol had managed to slip to you while you were leaving, mouthing the words ‘call me!’ behind soonyoung’s back.)

-

bonus!

“remember when you couldn’t keep your eyes off me when we first met?” seungcheol swings his arm around you, broad shoulders almost engulfing you whole.

you groan, choosing instead to bury your head into your boyfriend’s chest. soonyoung cackles from across the booth. you have to physically restrain yourself from clawing him alive.

“hyung it wasn’t just that; she was drooling over you!” he wiggles his eyebrows, ignoring the daggers you were staring his way. blush makes its way up your cheeks, dusting them pink.

seungcheol laughs, planting a kiss on the crown of your head.

“if it makes you feel better,” he whispers in your ear. “you were my gym crush too.”

soonyoung almost falls off his seat laughing when you blush even harder.

[tarjapearce]

Mi Dulce Cereza

Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Synopsis: Revenge's path is never an easy feat. Not when love for the enemy and other feelings get in the way. Would it rise and come out as a victor? Or would it succumb to the sweetest of beings?

WARNING: Novela level drama, Toxic relationships, character introduction, mild and brief sexual tension, No use of YN, Family feud, scheming, disingenuous behaviors. No proofread

Summary: Miguel's revenge is set into motion.

A/N: Centuries later, here it is <3, hope you enjoy this new version! So nervous about this jskjs. Thanks to my beta reader @oharasmommymilkers00 for the help <3

"Ma!"

The ten-year-old boy called, desperate as he searched and scourged the house he lived in, to eventually find her mother in his younger brother's room.

Ravenous and long curls adorned her back. Brown beautiful eyes stared with adoration at the little six-year-old boy, carefully tucked in her arms as she combed her child's wavy strands away from his innocent face.

"Ma!" the boy called a bit more urgent as he tugged on her skirt, earning him a hushed grunt from her.

"Gabriel está durmiendo, Miguel!" (Gabriel is sleeping)

"No, Ma! Debes venir a la entrada! Hay gente buscando a George!" (You gotta come to the door! There's people looking for George!)

Conchata quickly put Gabriel into his crib and darted to the entrance. Panic and bile rose in her insides.

The banging on the feeble and rusty metal doors alarmed Conchata the more she approached the main hacienda's door.

Much to her and Miguel's surprise a group of men, awaited outside. Dressed in the blue and white colors proper of a Santa Margarita's Town police officer.

Miguel's eyes wandered over the guns that nested on the men's hips as they rode their horses haughtily. But paid special attention to the man leading them.

Hardened and weathered face, partially obscured by his camel brown Stetson hat, dressed up sharply, letting his belt and the overall imposing aura to do the talk for him, same as his horse and everything that donned his body. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw Conchata.

"Miss Stone. I believe it's the third time I ask for you to leave" He acknowledged sternly.

A surname that made Miguel's churn in utter discomfort, but his mother always told him to give that name to strangers, since the O'Hara was only for the family. But even that one didn't sit right in his heart either. Not when the provider of such surname had been long gone from their lives, with no intention of returning.

And the men before his home were everything but familiar, strangers at best. Invaders. Trespassers with a penchant for intimidation as they were all armed to the teeth.

"The hell you want?!" Conchata crossed her arms and returned the steely glare the handsome and powerful man gave her.

His mother's bravado was certainly something Miguel could look up, despite the woman not being her best title of mother with him. But her bravery made him courageous.

"For you to leave my property."

"What are you talking about?! This is not your property, Anderton!"

A man like Pastor William was hard to ignore, not when power and influences oozed from him by merely existing.

"It is. You're living in Edenton's. Half the area is mine now."

"I have my property papers! This is outright ridiculous!" Conchata huffed as she sent Miguel to to get them.

"My lawyer is here. So we can have this settled once for all."

"There is nothing to settle!, I told your people I wouldn't sell my home and now you're acting far from someone that believes in God to get it!, maldita rata!" (fucking rat)

William narrowed his eyes at the last words that spilled with venom from Conchata's plump lips. He wasn't a man to give easily into anger, but his patience wasn't something to be tested either.

He had bought a good chunk of Edenton's territory and much to Conchata's dismay her home was right in the middle of said property.

The boy wasted no time into retrieving her mother's proofs of ownership as she opened the door to see the man that ground her nerves in seconds. Face to face.

And when the policeman and lawyer took a brief look at them, they could only snort in derision upon reading them.

"Not only are they outdated, but the important signatures are missing. This is fake."

Conchata paled, and she clutched her chest. Her heart pounded so hard she had to grab Miguel's lanky arm to support herself. Everything was slowly falling apart.

"Ma?"

Her boy looked up at her, concern plastered over his young yet understanding face

"T-That cannot be! George left it all arranged before leaving!"

"He didn't. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

William gave the papers to his lawyer as he climbed off the horse and Conchata immediately tried to get them back, but tore them im the process

"No! No! That's not true! My papers " She shrieked and the police officer intervened as soon as she tried to go for Anderton's lawyer.

"Stop! " Miguel was held back after kicking the officer's shin.

Conchata freed herself from the guard's grip, only to deliver a hard slap on William's face.

"La vas a pagar caro cabrón! A mi nadie me sacará de mi casa!" (You'll pay for this. None kicks me out of my home!)

The officers held Conchata back and Miguel, since the boy attempted to defend the remnants of his mother's dignity. But there was little they could do.

Conchata's land was prosperous, and so far it provided a good income to live rather peacefully and away from the rest. Until now.

William was rather strict and apprehensive about his properties. He owed half the town, and for Conchata to live there, right in the spot he wanted to build his home for his new family, rendered nothing but a black and ugly spot to his future dream.

Buthe would erase it. And if he needed to get over the law, to get it, he would. Influences had their perks. And these worked to his favor without a hitch.

"I'll give you three days for you to pack it up 'n leave."

"Three days?! Where am I going to find a place to live? My children... I can't leave-"

"I'm sure the local shelters will take you in gladly. Be grateful I got you time."

William seethed with his usual calm, sending shivers down Miguel's spine, as the boy held onto his mother's skirt.

The men turned around in their horses and soon began galloping away, but William got up on the beast back, remaining high and proud. Looking down at him.

For a man to make Conchata to clutch and hold on to him so protectively, meant she had no power at all. That she had been defeated. Something his childish brain thought impossible.

It reminded him the ways she sometimes protected him and Gabriel from George in his usual drunk fits.

That day, Pastor William Anderton remained forever engraved in Miguel's core memories and in his heart's growing rage.

Resentment wasn't often a feeling a boy so young like him should experience. But there he was, memorizing every dip, pore and soft wrinkle from the man's features so his heart and mind wouldn't forget him.

So he wouldn't forget who had been the monster that forced his family to leave and abandon everything he had known so far.

Miguel O'Hara had no longer a home.

But if there was something William had forgotten, was to never scorn a woman. Much less one with a fiery temper and a heart full of fresh wounds.

He had doused her wounded heart in salt, rubbed with it and then tossed it to the fire. To let it break and burn to ashes.

William hadn't shown mercy, despite the word coming from his mouth every Sunday in his church as part of his speech to the masses.

But Conchata's mind was already turning and plotting.

----

Miguel's upbringing was everything but easy, but that didn't stop him from achieving whatever goals he proposed.

Shelters and rental homes were left behind, and soon he earned a scholarship into a college, earning him a degree and masters in agronomy and large-scale management.

Gabriel in the meantime helped Conchata around the house. Having little side hustles for himself.

But as he grew up, so did his hatred for the Andertons. It didn't help that Conchata threw more dry hatred bones to the vengeful fire with her bitter tells. She always boasted on whatever little thing the Andertons did with spite and hatred in her heart.

William's face remained intact in Miguel's brain. Ever hardened and cruel, impassive to anyone else's suffering. Indifferent to his mother's pleas.

The day they left everything they knew, scarred him to this very day. Miguel sworn to one day, he'd owe his own estate, full of everything he always wanted.

He wouldn't have to sojourn through shelters and temporary homes ever again, having a hard time sleeping because of his mother's safety. He wouldn't have to look down in fear and shame when people that breathed and exhaled money, talked to him.

He wouldn't have to see his mother, shitty as she was sometimes, breaking down for not having for the most basic of needs. And he definitely wouldn't let himself to be trampled all over again by anyone. Not rich, nor poor.

Now, with a master's degree in his pocket, a new project rose in his mind. Train and rehab horses professionally. An emerging and blooming business within Santa Margarita.

Everything out of hearing that William entered a new venture. Purebred horses.

Of course a man like him had to be in the mouth of every people in town.

William ran the biggest church in the city, had multiple successful and clean business thanks to his estate, Cherryville. And now, the horses.

A novelty in town. He'd often see through the newspaper images of William and his wife, Rosaura, telling how wonderful and valuable they were for the community, and how much their philanthropic tendencies helped those in need. The man was rotting money after all.

Oh, the irony. Miguel sometimes wondered if William did it out of genuine vocation, cause he had to give the man some credit for keeping a saint facade in front of the rest for so long. He was doing it go hard or go home.

If people only knew the scum he is.

If everyone truly knew who Pastor William J. Anderton was, none would spare him a glance. None would look at his way twice to spare him some kind words. Everyone would shun him and mark him a fraud. His world would collapse. Something Miguel needed to achieve.

The purebred training horse's business opened his contact list, and with his smarts and the follow of his intuition, it took him a couple of years to get him in the map of those that were in dire need of help and could afford it.

Cause if he could exploit the rich, he wouldn't waste the chance of earning good money. Not when his personal estate was under construction and renovations, away in it's own heaven, outside Santa Margarita.

He stopped introducing himself as Miguel Stone long ago. He didn't want anything to do with that surname that stirred nothing but hatred and suffocating anger, towards the man that harmed his little and already broken family even more. And the O'Hara had earned him a bit of reputation.

A credible and respectful renown to meet people that gave him the chance to not only learn from the best horse trainers, but gave him the chance to apply everything he knew. Adding even more value to his resume.

Gabriel also graduated college, following Miguel's steps. Although the latter was more inclined to production than management. He was a more practical man than the over thinker of his brother.

Together they made a phenomenal duo, but when separated, months could pass before they saw eachother again.

But with Miguel's plan running, Gabriel promised him to remain close and available as possible to see it through.

----- He was ready to set his plan into motion. None other than his number one enemy had hired him.

In fact, William sought him out himself to ask him if he could train his horses and took full on responsibility of his farm.

Miguel's body buzzed with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Being the best to get hired was scratched off his list.

Soon all the hatred festering in his heart to the man that destroyed his childhood and family, would come to fruition. But there was a remaining distraction.

Dana.

"Remind me again, why are you going to a farm to be exploited and mistreated by rich people?"

The soft voice behind him echoed in his room. Miguel sat naked on the bed, as the short-haired brunette with blue eyes hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek and neck.

"Gotta make it as believable as possible if I want to expose the Andertons."

Dana just hummed, seeing him so determined and focused into getting this family feud, settled once and for all, amused her to no end.

Dana rolled her eyes while resting her chin on his sharp and well worked shoulder, "But no need to be so serious."

It was Miguel's turn to roll his eyes and stand up, reaching his underwear in tandem.

"Don't be cold, Miggy. I just wanna see you again, once you're victorious, so we can keep celebrating"

Miguel chuckled with derision as he took a towel and wrapped it up loosely against his waist.

"I'm good, thanks. And there's no we in this."

"Are you sure? I mean, I spread word around on you and look at you now. The best trainer. I'd say I'm also part of this too"

Her voice irked sometimes whenever it got like this. Sickly sweet and full of lies. Even more when she purred nothing but half truths.

In truth, he had met Dana for the past six months, all thanks to Gabriel that suggested her as a contact link to those he wanted to get at. Filthy and obscenely rich people that needed someone to help them out with their properties as soon as possible, to salvage them out of sentimentalism.

Even though the initial chemistry was undeniable, it had worn out thanks to her insufferable and possessive attitude. And no matter how many times he'd tell her a plain and outright No, she kept insisting. She was the one that always returned and always ended up in his bed.

The only that believed that they were something. Sure, Dana served his purpose to keep those physical urges away, but other than that, there was nothing substantial about her he could say he was attracted to, besides her contacts.

"You love that itch. But don't worry, as soon as you finish your little revenge game, we'll have the whole time for us."

"Yeah, no. Look, I don't want you snooping around. And I mean it."

Dana's hands tried to reach him, but Miguel stepped away from her touch, recoiling with haste and heading for the shower.

"If you ruin this for me, I swear, We'll have problems."

More than they already did? Impossible.

Dana just laughed, "Don't be mean, you gotta reward me one way or another for your clientele."

"Dios mio... Con qué loca me vine a enredar" (My God, what a crazy woman I came to get involved with)

He mumbled while stepping into the shower.

"I'll see you soon, baby." Her giggles had his eyes rolling with annoyance and his shoulders squaring.

He'd leave in a couple of hours, to start what his whole self had been preparing for years. Soon the Andertons would know him.

----

Returning to the place he grew up had his stomach in a tight and anxious knot, tighter than a hair's tangle.

The once colorless and rusty metal doors he loved to slam with his soccer ball while playing with Gabriel, were now turned into sturdy, iron structures that moved automatically. Sliding to the side to let him in as soon as he reported himself through the camera's speaker.

A Stony L-shaped wall held a metallic letters into another metallic structure. Cherryville Ranch.

He had arrived and his heart beat at the uncomfortable sensation of seeing his home destroyed and turned into a colonial-like resort.

Where there was a modest yet firm built, one floored home, was now a two floored manor that extended left to right. A vibrant sunset orange dressed the walls of the structure, adding enough color to the place sumptuous grandeur.

The staff ran up and down, bustling and moving like busy ants through the anthill, obeying the queen. Or rather monarchs.

His black Chevrolet Silverado parked outside, following the instructions of a man that gave him the ok with a good smile.

He had arrived ten minutes earlier, just in case. Miguel stepped out and put on his hat.

A black and brown flannel dressed up his torso snugly, a pair of jeans that did a wonderful job into containing his well worked legs, the belt just hugged his narrow waist, accentuating his sculpted physique.

The man offered his help with his suitcase, but Miguel refused with a polite smile.

"Keep going straight and you'll get to Mr. Anderton's office. It's the only brown door in this floor."

Strong hands clenched at the name of his enemy.

"Thanks."

Miguel had to take a moment to breathe in and take his surroundings.

Everything he remembered from his childhood, gone. His heart felt mike coming home to a stranger's home. Foraying in someone else's territory.

A someone that obliterated every single bit of his childhood, every piece of memory he created with Gabriel, forever gone and buried.

Replaced with over the top decors, a fake sense of coziness, hidden lies embedded in the sunset like sturdy walls, and people he once strived to be like. All now trespassers and inconnus.

Conchata always fed his brain into believing greater things, alway encouraged him to keep the hatred alive.

Would she be proud to see how far on his plan had he gotten? Probably. Even if she was busy with her new boyfriend that provided everything.

But this land, his once forgotten and forlorn home, would be his again. With steadfast steps, he ventured in the enemy's territory, passing rooms and people that unavoidably watched him with brief curiosity.

Some women shushed and spilled their gasp as he passed, leaving his presence alone to do the talk for him regarding the effect he had on women.

But all those hubristic thoughts sapped away as soon as his eyes came in contact with the door.

A thrilled and anxious chill ran down his spine upon hearing the terse voice of his sworn foe, giving orders to someone in particular. Miguel's throat felt arid.

His heart thumped a miles per second, his breath paced into a more agitated pace and his eyes kept blinking, readying themselves to face his nemesis.

"Come in."

He obeyed and his nose flared, releasing a shaky exhale when seeing William. Same weather and cold face, the only difference was him looking a bit more rugged and his white hairs even more prominent.

It was as if time had barely passed over him.

It took every single cell and fibre of his body to control the urge to punch him in the face. But the satisfaction of having the reversed roles for a moment brought satisfaction like no other.

This time William had to crane up his head to see him, and a chill ran down his spine when meeting Miguel's red-ish brown eyes. Piercing and judging with all the intention of doing so, as if the very man before him knew his deepest secrets.

The door shut with a quiet click and Miguel stepped closer.

"Mr. O'Hara." William stood to meet him with a brief and firm handshake.

"Sir."

"Must say what people say about you, do you justice." "Good things I hope."

William nodded with a brief smile and gestured for him to sit before him.

"Now. The property you'll be in charge is  in a bit of a mishap, I've barely had the time to fix it-"

"S'alright. It's part of the barn you said?"

"Indeed. Your functions are detailed in the contract, payment is every fortnight, unless you'd like to choose another type of payment time."

"Fortnight is alright."

William pushed the contract to Miguel, and this wasted no time in reading it and taking a picture of each page.

"Any doubts you, can call me and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

Miguel signed and pushed the paper back to him. William put it on a folder and then put it on a file. He turned off his computer, and lead the way towards the stables.

"I've tried everything, and nothing works. People have told me to sacrifice the horse, but I can't do that."

Miguel wandered after William through the never ending halls of the estate, there was nothing left of his home. Not even the built in stone oven, where he'd watch Conchata prepare dinner and he'd help out with the tortillas.

Now full of modern equipment and full of people cooking different things he couldn't name.

Miguel had to admit that the stables were his favorite part from the whole dollhouse. William knew no concept of budget. But that was alright, cause every horse in it worth it every single penny and had turned it into a lovely stable aisle.

Each horse had its own fortified enclosure, well kept and clean. There were no bad odors, dirt, mud. None of that. Matter of fact, his eyes blinked when seeing some horses having a swim in a giant custom made pool.

Everything in Cherryville oozed with power and money.

Having revenge and interacting with horses he only dreamed of while getting paid, felt the ultimate fantasy came true.

The angry neigh of a horse snapped him out of his thoughts. The black Friesian stallion kicked and nipped another brown horse nearby. The caretakers immediately separated them both.

William sighed deeply. And Miguel approached to inspect the brown mustang horse.

"That's Joaquín. The black one is Agustín."

Miguel quirked his brow at the name choices but was glad to have something he was familiar with.

"Do you know spanish, Mr. Anderton?" "The amount enough to understand when my wife is angry."

Miguel chuckled and nodded

"I see."

As much as he wanted to let out an array of insults here and there to test his words, he'd keep his sharp tongue for himself.

"You can start tomorrow, I'll let you get installed. The barn is in good conditions to suit your needs. If anything is missing, ask any of the helpers around."

With a final and firm handshake, William left.

Miguel gave himself a tour. He wanted to familiarize with the property as much as he could. He didn't like to rely on others for the simplest of task.

Even his way to the barn had been paved and well lighted. No longer being the muddy road he loved to splash his feet in, even if that meant to have his ear pulled by Conchata later.

The barn, like the rest, took his breath away. It looked like a house for himself.

He wasted no time into admiring the work, and effort put into it. The tack room was sure a thing, but his bedroom and office were even better conditioned. It was a place worth of his skills and knowledge.

Miguel begun unpacking and installing himself. From his window he could see yet another extension of property, Bodegas and the staff living quarters he supposed.

And another entrance to the whole facility adjacent a couple of blocks from his barn. ---

One thing he had forgotten about the place were the torrential rains that always seeped in. Sometimes the blackouts were so common he'd rather be candle lit.

He had finished his shower after spending his evening trying to get acquainted with Agustín and the rest of his crew. Overall and so far it seemed the perfect place to work, but also a challenge.

Thunders roared outside and rain kept flogging every surface it could, permeating to the core. He was ready to make his bed and call Gabriel when the lights were out.

A loud whir echoed through, before the lights returned, the generator wasted to time into working.

What alerted him was the main entrance opening and closing shut.

Had a worker slipped in?

Another blackout happened as he approached to the door only to find a soaked and gorgeous woman shivering on the entrance.

"Ma'am?"

----

Your friends had promised to be a casual party among the singletons in town, nothing more, nothing less. But time and drinks kept going, like the fun.

Until you had enough. As an Anderton you had a reputation to keep, but you were glad your friends made you feel a normal woman, free of keen and expecting eyes and societal etiquettes.

Free of the overbearing role model you had to be for being the Pastor's daughter.

But right now all you cared for was to get inside the barn to give your body a rest from the cold.

The once lovely dress you wore was now hugging you with a vice like grip, suffocating your curves like a second skin. The red and short cardigan around your shoulders did little to nothing to protect you from the unforgiving rain. Hair stuck to your shivering face, teeth clattered as you looked through the window. The rain had no intention to stop.

Your hands removed the cardigan, then tossed the clothing piece to the floor, as you rubbed some heat back.

"Ma'am?"

The rich and deep voice got you jumping in your spot.

"Oh, my god... I'm-" You swallowed when seeing the handsome man before you, dressed up in nothing but his grey sweatpants and some slippers. A towel hung loosely on one of his shoulders.

His brow quirked as his face remained serene.

"I-I'm sorry didn't know the barn was occupied."

You kept rubbing your arms, hoping for the rain to drop. A loud thunder made you recoil from the door, while the drip drops scurrying off your body rolled down to the floor, joining into a puddle beneath your red heeled sandals.

If it wasn't for your hair sticking on your cheeks, the man would definitely see the profuse blush emerging on them. Shirtless men weren't in your everyday occurrence, much less handsome and tall men with beautiful eyes that seized your soul.

A smirk came on Miguel's face, as he retrieved another towel from the bathroom and he approached.

"I got installed today, it's ok."

He gave you the towel, and you took with a grateful smile. Immediately pat drying your face, neck and arms.

He watched you with sharp eyes, following your hand's movement as he slicked back his hair.

You were gorgeous. And drenched to the bones. That little dress did little to keep his eyes wandering to your thighs, marveling at the soft and plumpness of them. He had to look away as soon as his eyes stopped on your chest. The outline of your nipples poking out the dress, gave him enough distraction for a moment.

You didn't look past twenties.

"Uhm..." Your sweet and stammering voice made him curious.

"Yes?" "Can I use the barn's phone, please?"

Such a polite girl.

"Of course." "Sorry for the floor."

He shook his head softly and opened his office. Letting the door open for you to enter.

Your arms crossed on your chest, giving him a glimpse of your cleavage. Then fetched the phone, the number however made him frown as it was William's personal contact number.

"Hello? Papa? Can you send someone to the barn with an umbrella, please?"

Papa

Miguel blinked as he stared your way from the door frame. This was even better than he anticipated.

He was so deep in his scheming that forgot William's family. So far he knew, the Anderton man had only one child. And he was now looking at said person.

He could see some bits of William in you, specially in your nose and cheekbones. The rest was your mother's doing.

And what a good job they've made.

"I know, I'm sorry. Got too caught up in the party."

Miguel luck couldn't truly get any better. He could even taste his revenge through his mouth. It was sweet as your perfume.

"Thanks. Love you!"

You hung up the call and smiled his way.

"Thank you. Mr...?"

"O'Hara. Miguel O'Hara."

You gave him your name with a sweet smile as he shook your hand amiably.

"Right. So you're the new trainer?"

His lax frame slanted against the doorframe, blocking your way from the entrance with his form. His eyes fixed you with an enigmatic smirk.

Your nervousness was making your mind a jumbled mess by simply being around him. Half-naked men and men were off the list. Mainly because your parents' strict beliefs. And the man that would get you, would be your future husband. Without discussion.

"I am. Yes. Quite impressive the settlement you've got."

"Ah, well. Dad takes seriously his businesses, and he needs all the help he can get. So thank you for coming."

"My pleasure to help, señorita."

His lip curled, almost imperceptible upon your flustered reaction. Your skin remained with goosebumps.

"Come. Let's get you warmed up."

You followed him to the fireplace and soon he got another towel since the one you had was soaked through.

You sat in front of the fireplace and he draped your shoulders with the dry and cozy towel to then sit across you.

"Thanks" You gulped and extended your hands towards the fire, gaining a much needed wave of heat.

He couldn't wait for you to leave and call Gabriel to tell him everything he had seen so far. Everything was beyond perfect, like if the universe itself had delivered his revenge on a silver platter.

A couple of minutes passed before a familiar voice to you echoed from outside the barn.

"Mi niña! Let's go!"

The ever familiar voice of your nana called, and you stood.

"Thanks for the help, Miguel."

"Anytime, señorita."

He nodded with a softened smile, that didn't reach his eyes and watched you leave.

"See you soon!" You waved and headed back to the main doors. Your heels clicking on the floor.

"Vicky!" you squeezed under the umbrella after your nana secured the towel.

You wanted to give Miguel a last thanking but the latter had already closed the door. You left to the manor.

Miguel rushed to fetch his phone and immediately called Gabriel. He picked up after the third ringing.

Miguel talked and rambled about everything he had seen, and Gabriel could only listen. Expectant.

"Lemme get some months in and then you can come. That way we gather more evidence."

"What about that woman? Anderton's daughter."

He sighed with a dreamy heave.

"She looks the type that's perfect for luring."

"Use her to your advantage. Hit em right where it hurts."

"I'll do it. Don't worry. She's too kind and sweet. Won't see it coming."

With this new piece of information, Miguel could do so many things. But his goal was clear.

He'd hit William right where he dared hit Conchata a long time ago.

He'd go after you. And if that meant to act like he adored you, then so be it.

His revenge was finally in motion.

----

Taglist:

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@monarchberrysblog @tae21xoxo @1sun-vixen @amelialysm @ir-the-cat @oblivion777 @casarettoa @arleydyn7 @loliknya @maxad99

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[muzsmoux]

Reviewing tgcf characters because I have thoughts

I finished S2 recently and I need somewhere to put my not exactly hot but like warm (?) takes because it's taking up too much storage space in my brain.

🤍 Xie Lian 🤍

It's a good thing I'm not into guys because if I was I would be on my knees for this man in every sense of that expression and his pet menace to society would mince me up like garlic.

So I'll try to be brief about my overflowing feelings about him. Xie Lian is the best main character I have come across in a WHILE. He's the embodiment of compassion and kindness. And also a cold blooded murderer. A babygirl. A father figure. A terrifying martial god. A silly little guy. A pathological liar. The most genuine man you'll ever meet. He's everything, and Hua Cheng is 100% valid in his obsession. I'm right there with him.

Rating: 10/10

❤️ Hua Cheng ❤️

Idk if we ever figured out who wrote My Immortal but I'm pretty sure we have our culprit.

"Hi my name is Hua Cheng Crimson Rain Sought Flower Red-Robed Ghost King and this is my evil weapon of death E-ming. I've killed soooo many gods with it!! My dark power is I can summon storms of BLOOD and SUFFERING. I have my own scary city of DEMONS and they all love me and think I'm HOT but I only want my BOYFRIEND who's the only REAL GOD so STOP FLAMING HIM YOU POSERS-"

Needless to say I love him. Being the 8 time winner of the Loverboy of the Century Awards with unbeatable records in the yearning olympics is truly a remarkable feat.

Rating: 9/10

(Bonus: E-ming. Cute little guy. Likes his stepdad more than his real dad. Not afraid to show it's feelings even if it makes it look like a muppet, 10/10)

🧡 Feng Xin & Mu Qing 🧡

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum gets a shared rating because they would hate to be grouped together like that and that's funny to me. Their dynamic is great, they're good characters, I wasn't sure which one was which until midway through the second season. But then also I have a pair of 7yo twin cousins who I still can't tell apart despite them not looking even a slight bit similar so that might just be a character flaw on my end. Oops.

Rating: 7/10

🩵Shi Qingxuan🩵

I'm doubling the rating because she is best boy and best girl at the same time. I love that I can use any and all pronouns for him because he's literally a pride parade personified and therefore all of them are correct. You don't get that type of chaotic fun just anywhere.

He is truly living my dream, presenting as whatever gender they want depending on what's more convenient and/or funnier in the moment. Super useful, for things like gathering intel and terrorizing Feng Xin by being a woman.

And I personally think we should crown her the new emperor. She'd look significantly better on that throne, with her Barbie-like radiance and flourishing Kenergy.

Rating: 20/10

🖤 Ming Yi 🖤

Listen, I hate to say it because I like a sunshine x grump moment as much as the next gay but he's just... not giving what he thinks he's giving. Everyone is whispering ominously about him having some dark devastating secret but MY point is no matter how big his boobs are in his female form, Shi Qingxuan could do better. I'm sorry. She really could.

Rating: 4/10

💙 Lang Qianqiu 💙

Just an honest man with good intentions and a sickass fucking sword. He did NOT hesitate to attack the infamous Crimson Rain Sought Flower on SIGHT and I respect a quick decisionmaker, even if it shows some himbo tendencies. He also has the same distinct energy as Fred from Scooby Doo.

Rating: 6/10

💚 Qi Rong 💚

He's got some odd dietary and moral choices going on. Definitely. But he's just such a fun villain!!! Being Xie Lian's nr 1 source of migraines SHOULD make me like him less but I'm sorry, every time he was on screen I was LIVING. He would do numbers on reality TV. Someone put this guy on Kitchen Nightmares, I need to see him 1v1 Gordon Ramsay.

Rating: 7/10

🌚 Jun Wu 🌚

He has his emperor status & DILF card going for him but something about this man just ain't right. If he came to a party I was attending I would cover my drink is all I'm saying.

Rating: 2/10

🔥Pei Ming🔥

I don't know much about him besides he had that one shady empolyee or whatever (could not hear the plot over the deafening sound of Hua Cheng's yearning) but I'm partial to a good manwhore character. The thought of people praying to him like "Hugh Mungus, who art in heaven-" really tickles me.

I know he's probably straight but I headcanon him as at the very least bi-curious because you can't be that hot with that much game and not use it for evil. (That evil being causing large scale gay awakenings among his soldiers.)

Rating: 7/10

❓Pei Xiu❓

Unreliable, unimportant, unattractive, unemployed.

I remember not a singular thing about him besides fucking up Xie Lian's daughter's life and also being on my last nerve from the jump. If you're going to be evil at like least be memorable about it, you know? You can't be a bad person and a bad character at the same time. Pick a struggle.

Rating: 1/10

📚 Ling Wen 📚

I heard she committed some war crimes but honestly if I had to do an entire realm's tax returns by myself AND teach Pei Ming how to read (I refuse to believe that man is literate, just look at him) I would want to rage on occasion too. I hope she has a hot wife waiting for her at home to give her massages after carrying the whole system on her back all day. It's what she deserves.

Rating: 8/10

Thank you for reading!! Opinions might change once I read the books but as of now this is it. Remembering everyone's names has been a journey and a half so this post is sponsored by @kirstenly 's character cheat sheet go look at it! and everything else too!!!

[dumpywrites]

Cat-enaries - Min Yoongi / Suga

Part two of Cat-astrophe 

Summary: all these series of meaningful acts, but you still don’t know where your relationship stands. 

Genre/tags: Fluff, smut (protected sex, vanilla)

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her/afab reader

a/n: this is my first time writing smut! T_T

Ever since that eventful night you spent at Yoongi’s place, where both of you got drunk and eventually ended up sleeping on the same bed together (just sleeping!), and him wanting to get to know you more, you continued to see each other more and more. Mostly after you came back home from work, but it could be on weekends too if both of you did not have any other plans. 

After a while you began to know some of Yoongi’s friends, and same thing for him as well. He had a small circle but you were surprised on how they bring out the best out of him. He had been doing all these small gestures just like randomly giving you snacks, offering to babysit your cat when you were busy, or just simply wanting your company while he was composing music. Occasionally he would invite you to a party from his management, where you met his co-workers. 

He would only introduce you by your name though, never any label following behind the introduction. A friend? A neighbor? No, just your name. All these things he had done, and never once did he ever mention about relationship, or at least to put a name on your situation. 

It had only been three, going on four months, you kept telling yourself. Maybe he wanted to get to know you slowly and throughly and did not want to rush things. But then again, you knew how straightforward Yoongi was and he would had at least said something about it if that was the case. Maybe it was for the best, reminding yourself of the traumas you got from your past relationships, maybe it was better to take things slowly. But what made you anxious was the thought of falling by yourself.

Tonight you both agreed to watch a horror movie together at your apartment, with the occasion being you just got a promotion. The promotion happened two weeks prior, but both of you were busy. Yoongi had already sent you a dozen of donuts as a celebratory gift, but you insisted on wanting to spend some quality time with him.

“Have you eaten?” You asked as you opened your apartment door for Yoongi. 

“I have.” He simply said and immediately bent down to greet your pet who was meowing by his feet. 

“He misses you.” 

“We see each other a lot, don’t be a clingy cat.” He smiled and booped the cat’s tiny nose. He picked Cookie up and lightly kissed his forehead before letting him back to roaming around the house. 

The scene made your heart race and you cleared your throat. “Well, I also miss you.” You said, hoping Yoongi would catch your intention. 

“I miss you too.” He giggled and ruffled your hair instead, before walking to sit down on your sofa, completely unaware by how disappointed you were. “We’re watching Exhuma, right?” He asked. 

You hummed in agreement, hoping he wouldn’t catch the slight disappointment in the tone of your voice. “You wanna drink something?”

“Anything’s fine.” 

You muttered an “okay” before going to your fridge and grabbed two cans of Sprite and small bowl of popcorn you had made beforehand. You sit down next to him and played the movie and thought to yourself. There wasn’t really anything affectionate happening after you spent the night at his. You had never really kissed officially with you being sober, maybe only once when he kissed your forehead when you went to roller skate together, that was if that could even be counted. 

That day you were struggling to keep your balance and he caught you in his embrace just when you were about to fall frontward. He was laughing and despite being annoyed, you couldn’t help but to get swayed by the sound of his laughter. You didn’t get to process it that much when you felt his lips lightly pressed against your forehead. It happened just for a few second before he let go and simply asked if you were okay. 

Reminiscing the moment had your whole body warm. You put your feet up and hugged your knees together. Yoongi looked to your side, noticing your behavior. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Uh, I don’t know.” It was the opposite, you dummy! You secretly complained. 

“Here,” He grabbed you by your shoulder and scooted you closer to him. “Better?”

“Slightly.” You said, you didn’t realize you were pouting while saying it. 

Yoongi sighed, but a small smile was on his lips. “Only slightly?” 

“Only slightly.” You were annoyed by this point, but you felt awful for wanting to ask, and basically begging, for any skinship from him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He softly asked while stroking your shoulder gently. 

“Do you not like me like that?” You said while avoiding his gaze. “Am I reading the whole situation wrong? Do you just wanna be friends?”

Yoongi chuckled and it annoyed you further more. He had the audacity to find this hilarious while you felt confused and hurt. 

“Yoongi, this isn’t funny.” 

“On what situation is what we’re doing considered as just friends?” His words immediately made you look back at him. 

“I don’t know! You never really said anything about us being a thing, anything, and…” You found it hard to admit that you basically were asking for his affection. “Nevermind, this is stupid! Let’s just get back to the movie…”

“Look at me.”

“No.” You refused, even when your heart was beating faster at his request. 

“Y/N, look at me.” He said again, this time softly grabbing your chin to make you face him. 

Not a single word came out from him after that, only him dipping down quickly to meet your lips. You were surprised but shortly melted into his kiss and found yourself returning it. He was taking his time tasting your lips. His kisses were very gentle that it almost made you beg for more. Slowly his tongue made an entrance and you welcomed it swiftly. A small low moan escaped your lips as you parted them wider for him to access you. 

And when it was done, mainly because both of you were completely breathless, Yoongi hugged you. He chuckled and this time you couldn’t help but to smile as well. 

“I like you. Maybe in love at this point.” He confessed with you still wrapped in his embrace. “I couldn’t recall when exactly the shift to love began and I’ve been thinking to myself these past few weeks… but every time I see you, I keep wondering if there was even any moment when I wasn’t.”

You blushed at this and snuggled closer, hugging him tighter.

“I feel like I’ve been buying extra portions of my food a little too often, been on Instagram more just to send you some random internet memes that you like so much, been making sure I hear that door opening sound when you come home from work, been thinking about you twenty four seven that my music starts to have your vibe, the melodies just sound like they were made for you and I couldn’t even explain how…” He chuckled at the last mention. “The composer even told me that my work has a romantic touch to it lately.”

He broke the hug so he could look at you and smiled, showing his gum a bit. “I’ve given up cause honestly, I can’t even remember what was life before all these feelings.” He shrugged playfully. “Honestly, I don’t think I even wanna remember how life feels without these emotions.”

Your eyes got teary all of the sudden. Your view was getting a bit blurry. A small laugh, mixture of both relief and happiness, escaped your very own lips before you crashed them back on his. Yoongi immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back close to him. The kiss was more desperate this time, demanding, needy, but most importantly, filled with overwhelming feelings you both had for each other. 

Yoongi swiftly pulled your body and brought you on his lap without breaking the contact on your lips. A muffled squeal came out from you, but you instantly put your arms over his shoulder, deepening the kiss. 

After moments of tongue dancing between the two of you, you pulled back first because once again he had you breathless, but it seemed like he didn’t want you to rest yet, as the moment you pulled away, his lips found their way on your neck, leaving trails of the softest kisses. You bit the insides of your lower lip, trying to subdue the moans that were eager to get out. His thigh being exactly between your legs was certainly not helping you either. Hearing you trying to conceal your voice made him looked up. The sight of you flinching concerned him. 

His right hand palmed your cheek. “I’m sorry, are you uncomfortable? Is this too much?” 

You blush at the tenderness and shook your head in disagreement. “No… uh, I’m not uncomfortable…”

Yoongi smiled at you and quickly kissed your forehead. “Okay.” He simply said, before he went back to put his attention on your neck, showering it with pecks. You were still making low sounds, not trying to conceal your voice as much, just humming with your mouth closed. Your body was still tense but was progressively easing the more his lips kisses you. 

His hands started to move up underneath your top, just shyly under your bra, as if he wasn’t sure if you would grant him more than that. When an open-mouthed moan finally came out from you, Yoongi took it as his green light and began to bring the movement of his hands upwards, gently fondling your clothed breasts, which promptly made your body turned into jelly against him. You could only bury your head on his neck, letting him continue toying your chest. 

Your eyes shot open at the feel of him unclasping your bra. The touch of his palms meeting your bare breasts sent heat through you that instantly went south. You whimpered and hugged him close, burying your face further on his neck. 

“You okay?” He chuckled, not stopping but decreased the pacing of his hands. The angle now making it awkward due to your body pressing closer to him. 

“I’m just shy.” You said while still not moving from your position. 

“You don’t wanna continue? Cause I don’t mind.” He said as he moved one hand to soothe your back. 

“N-no, Yoongi I just… kinda just getting all insecure cause it’s the first time you’ll be seeing me and I’m just scared if I’d look weird to you.” 

“You’re perfect.” He told you and he meant it. 

“I haven’t done this in a while.” You said with a slight moping tone. 

“So do I.” He took your hands to pry them apart from him. He guided them to his chest where you could feel his heart beating rapidly. “Do you think I’m not nervous?”

You looked at him and couldn’t help but to smile. But when you looked down, you realized a growing bulge was present and that seemingly he was not only nervous, but excited as well. 

“You also seem excited…” You giggled. 

“Not exactly my fault now is it.” 

“It’s okay,” You looked up to the ceiling. “I may or may not be soaking through my panties now as well.” That earned a groan from him. 

“Do you want me to help?” He breathed out. His hands now holding your waist steadily, thumb grazing your underboob. “Or we could totally just makeout and it’s alright.”

“Yoongi.”

“Yeah?”

“Continue… please.”

He groaned once again before lifting both your top and bra at the same time. As the garments sat just above your chest, the view of your nipples perking out just for him had the man salivating. Slowly, he lifted you to his side and laid you down so you could rest on your back on the sofa. He bent down and proceeded to pepper your chest and breasts with soft feather-like kisses, almost as if you would break if he pressed harder. He looked up and felt his ego somewhat boosted with the scene of you biting your lips, whimpering. 

He kissed your right nipple and began to sensually nip and twirl his tongue around it, that was it for you. You fully moaned when his right hand pinched your left nipple and twisted it. You brought your hand to your mouth, trying to repress the arousing sound coming from your mouth from being too loud. 

“It’s just me.” He mumbled into your skin, one hand went to trace the line on your back. 

But that’s the problem. Yoongi himself was your main weakness. 

He continued to play with your twins, lapping the buds with his tongue, making sure he gave both of them the same treatment. Slowly his right hand traveled downwards, caressing your middle through your sweatpants. Your breath hitched. 

“Everything okay?” He asked again. 

“Y-yeah.” You managed to vocalize. 

“Can I take these off?” He said, tugging slightly at the band of your pants. 

You only nodded and he kissed your forehead. He proceeded to deliberately slide down your bottoms, leaving you with your exposed panties. 

Yoongi gulped at the sight of your damp underwear. A small patch of wet spot could be seen and he could not lie to himself and felt proud of his doings. He bent down and kissed your lips for a second before flashing a soft smile. 

“Can we continue in your room?” Before you answered, he followed. “I want you to feel comfy while I eat you out.” 

That sentence almost had you hollering.  

“Okay…” You breathed out heavily and took his hand, dragging him inside your bedroom. 

Just after he closed the door, for a split second you saw a smirk visible on his face, before he scooped you up in his arms. You gasped, and he quickly pecked your lips before gently laid you on the bed. He brought his right hand to caress your thigh softly, slowly moving upwards to your crotch area. You moaned instantly at the contact. 

His middle and ring finger moved up and down, petting your core through the cotton cloth. The pace slowly increasing, and so did the volume of your pleas. You could feel your body turning into jelly already when neither his fingers or lips had touched your naughty bits yet. 

Finally you felt one of his finger tugging and pulling your underwear. You gladly, almost too eagerly, helped him by wiggling out from it, as you watched him pulling it loose and dropped them to your floor. He pulled you slightly so you were close to the edge of your bed, and he bent down on his knees. He gaped at your glistening core, and he really was ogling for a hot minute, lost at his thoughts. 

“Stop staring at me like that.” You quickly clamped your legs together. 

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t believe this.” He chuckled, hands on your thigh, meddling your legs back to spread out for him. “I haven’t done this in a while…”

“You’ve told me.” Your eyes searched for his. 

“No, I mean, I might be rusty… if it feels weird or if you wanna stop, we can stop anytime.”

You could see the nervousness and self-consciousness in him and it made you wanna love him even more. 

“I just wanna taste you so bad right now.” 

He hunched closer in between your legs and dived in. He licked a bit, tasting you in his tongue. At that moment he decided it was his favorite flavor. He licked a full strip your labia, before then letting his tongue danced around it, making out with your cunt. He tried to make a mental note on which part made your back arched, which side made you moan louder. Hoping the next time, if you would let him, he promised himself he would make you feel ten times better. 

A loud yelp came out from you when he slid in his middle finger. You bit your lips, feeling shaky. He carried on trusting you, slowly in and out, pacing increasing at the same time as his tongue on your clit. He then added his ring finger and you felt it effortlessly sliding into your sopping wet hole. The attack from both his tongue and fingers quickly trembled you down. You felt your stomach came into a knot and your insides clenched. 

“Y-Yoongi… I…”

You could not form a sentence and Yoongi seemed to be too immersed to respond your pleas as he kept his tempo. You were grasping onto the bedsheets, back arching towards him, and then the orgasm hit you. 

The image of Yoongi smirking with your slick trailing down his chin would now be forever embed on your brain. It would certainly be in your dreams for quite some time. 

“That was… okay, right?” 

“That was incredible.” You said through panting. 

The guy smiled and kissed the crown of your head. He pulled his t-shirt off in one go and kissed you once again. You broke off the kiss first, pulling him by the neck so he could crawl on the bed with you. Now with you under him, he then kissed your neck before sliding your cropped top over your head, making you fully bare before his eyes. 

“Beautiful.” Yoongi said in a low voice. 

The compliment flipped your stomach upside down. “How come I’m the only one completely naked…” 

Your comment earned a smile from him. “Would you help me then?” 

You blushed, but did not oblige. You didn’t waste any time and helped him out from his pants. 

“Wait.” 

He suddenly stopped mid through. His pants were already down to his knee area, and it couldn’t be helped that all your attention were now heading towards his massive bulge that wasn’t in any way shy behind his boxer brief. He stepped down the bed, finally taking off his pants fully. You could see him taking out something from his back pocket before he let the cloth fell down joining the rest of your clothings on the floor. 

“You came prepared.” You commented with a teasing smile after seeing the item he took out from his pants. 

Yoongi just looked at you with a hint of red decorated his cheeks. You found it extremely adorable that he was bashful about it. 

You took his hand and pulled him back with you on the bed. He put the condom on your bedside table, before dipping in to kiss you. It seemed like you both had found out that kissing each other was the best thing and you felt dumb for not doing it sooner. As he kissed you passionately, you were hesitant for a second, but you slowly brought your hand to feel up the swelling bump on his below. You swallowed his groans in the kiss as you continue to stroke up and down. Breaking the kiss, you mumbled something about wanting to return his favor, but Yoongi grabbed your wrist immediately, stopping you from taking off his boxer. 

“At this rate I’m going to cum in my pants so maybe next time, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead.

When he free himself from his underwear, your jaw dropped along with it. Of course you were no saint, you had caught a glimpse of his groin area before when he wore that one gray sweatpants that you fancied. You were in fact suspecting that he was at least a little above average, but not this. He had completely proven you wrong. Quite frankly, you had never thought about how beautiful a male part could be until you saw his. 

You gulped your saliva and salivate the mesmerizing scene in front of you, watching as he ripped the condom pack with his teeth and rolled the rubber from his tip downwards. He positioned himself in between your legs, sliding his tip up and down on your entrance, which made you whimper instantly.

“Yoongi… please…” You pleaded.

“If it hurts even just the slightest bit, let me know, okay?” He said, caressing your hair. 

You only nodded and soon after you felt his tip entering you ever so gently. You moaned loudly and it seemed like the movement not only affect you, but Yoongi also, as you saw him closing his eyes shut, grunting along with you. He slid in very carefully, making sure you were adjusting well with his girth. When he reached a certain length, you yelped. 

“Did I hurt you?” He suddenly asked out of worry. 

“No… it just… it just feels very full.” You managed a smile to reassure him. 

“Okay.” He breathed out, combing his locks through his fingers. “Let me know when I can move.”

You touched his hand to catch his attention. He looked at you with a wary expression. “You can move, I’m not that fragile.” 

He muttered a stuttered “okay” before sliding himself deeper. He lunged deep and out slowly, making love to you passionately. He intertwined his fingers with yours, going on a soft tempo, as if he was trying to confess his feelings through, making sure you feel how sincere he was. You brought your hands to cup his face, then stroked his hair, before putting them over his shoulders to pull him close. Your lips met again in the middle, muffling your moans through the tongue lacing activity. His hands were cupping your breasts, fondling with them as your kisses went harsher and sloppier. 

And when he moved from your lips to kiss your chest, you bucked your hips against him, with your hands ruffling his hair as he tongue your nipple carelessly. His tempo began to distort and the knot in your stomach started to feel too much and you knew you were close. 

Not long after you came to release, he followed soon after the feeling of you clenching hard over his cock. The sound of both your heavy breaths filled the room. Yoongi once again dipped down to kiss you. Starting from your forehead, your nose, your cheek, and lastly your lips. You giggled in between every single one. He then got up to tie the ends of the condom, timidly walking towards your bathroom to where your bin was. When he was done, you were now lying to your sides, curving your legs in a fetal position.

Yoongi approached you and slowly cuddled you from behind. You automatically scooted closer to his body warmth. 

“This is oddly familiar.” He chuckled. 

You recalled the first time you spent the night at his place by accident, when you woke up with him cuddling you exactly like this. Minus the nakedness of course. 

You turned your body to face him. A huge smile was plastered on your face. “I hate you.”

“I’m sorry?!” He eyed you with an annoyed expression. 

“I’m so madly in love with you it’s insane!” You smacked his chest lightly.

“I’m sorry, I guess I was just afraid of moving too fast. I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time and I was worrying if I’d make you uncomfortable…” 

“I thought you had decided that you don’t like me or something… I was even jealous of Cookie when you kissed him!”

“I noticed.”

“You noticed?! And you chose to do nothing???” You huffed.

“You looked cute so I decided to leave you be.” He snickered. 

“You’re evil.” 

“You’re evil for wearing that extremely tight crop top today.” His eyes travelled down and up to your nude body.

“It was… on purpose.” You bit your lips. “I guess it worked? Haha?” 

He raised one of his eyebrows at you and smirked. “Give me five minutes and we can go again.”

“Oh my god??? Who are you?! Give me back my cute and shy Yoongi!” 

You squealed as he laughed and hugged you close. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You said, followed by a loud smack of smooch to your cheek from him, then he flashed you his gummy smile. 

Thank you for reading! 💎

taglist: @yunaurlove @waitaminswife @yoongisababygoat @hazyjoon @callsignwidow @ai-des-blog-blog @jovanaprime @bangtanmisser7 @angelk0503

[probablyasocialecologist]

Some people, in defense of generative A.I., will claim that A.I. builds from influences the same as human beings do.  This is, to me, the first indication that I’m talking to somebody who either does not understand how A.I. works, how human creativity works, or most likely both.  Something that needs to be clearly understood is that A.I. has no intelligence.  It does not “think”.  It is a predictive text program that simulates human expression by ingesting unfathomable amounts of data and trying to replicate that data.  It does not know and can not know what meaning its outputs have.  Further, it has no desire and no emotion to motivate action or decisions.  It simply runs a program and assembles pixels or words to match what seems most like other correct pixels and words in its vast data set.  It aggregates.  It produces averages. Humans, obviously, do not create like this.  Humans have intentions and purpose to what we do.  These intentions are sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, sometime clear, and sometimes nebulous.  But we always have emotion and thought connected to what we make.  What we create is guided by intent colliding with discovery, and these two states feed each other.  And the influence that we draw from existing work is not an analysis of pixels, but an emotional response to how that work makes us feel.  Even in analytical study of form or anatomy, our brains do not operate like computer programs.  While committing information to memory, we also interpret and seek to understand and this affects how that information is later able to be used.  Because we are each an individual, infinitely complex being, our different physiological, environmental, and cultural variations bring us to infinite different endpoints.  Like it or not, we all see the world slightly differently and our creative expressions reflect this. It has become standard to describe A.I. as a tool.  I argue that this framing is incorrect.  It does not aid in the completion of a task.  It completes the task for you.  A.I. is a service.  You cede control and decisions to an A.I. in the way you might to an independent contractor hired to do a job that you do not want to or are unable to do.  This is important to how using A.I. in a creative workflow will influence your end result.  You are, at best, taking on a collaborator.  And this collaborator happens to be a mindless average aggregate of data. To some, the prospect of collaborating with the sum average of all artists is apparently an attractive prospect.  Maybe you feel you are below average in some areas and the A.I. will therefore raise the quality of those areas.  But every percent that you hand over to the A.I. is a percent less of your unique voice, perspective, and intention.  And for folks who use A.I. generations wholesale, that comes out to a 100% loss of anything personal or unique that they might bring.

[lightlycareless]

uuu just imagine reading manga with naoya in bed while being cuddled up together <3<3

Hello!!!

Ok so this is sweet—kind of domestic amirite? oof. I love me some domestic Naoya when he's nothing but a loving husband. akgfhaksjghkjaghjkashgjas and a nerd too ahahah awww anyways...

warnings: very tiny mentions of smut. implications really. fluff outside of that.

happy reading!!

Imagine it being a cold snowy day where Naoya doesn’t have to go out on missions, tend to clan responsibilities, or anything else.

A day where he can simply spend his time in nothing but his favorite, deserving things, such as catching up with his favorite series, enjoying a well-deserved break from all those countless missions, and of course, spend time with you—his needy wife who didn’t hold back from letting him know how much she missed him.

“What would you like to do today?” is how the days would begin, with you peppering endless kisses across his face while the two snuggled underneath the sheets.

“Hmmm, I feel like spending the whole day in bed.” He sighs, kissing the top of your head. “The new chapter of the manga I told you about came out yesterday, and I want to read it.”

“I’ll make breakfast, then.” You smile, ready to push yourself up from the futon and rush to the kitchen—though Naoya had something else in mind too.

“What’s the hurry, my love?” he murmurs, pulling you back to him. “Going away from me so soon? I just came back…”

“N—No, of course not… I could never!” you blush. “I just… just wanted to make the best of today, you know? Please you.”

“You know, there’s one thing that will immediately please me.” He breathes against your ear, you shudder.

“…I still have to get your bath ready.”

“Can’t see why we can’t do both.”

You press your lips together, heated by his words.

“Ok, but we can’t get too distracted—I still want you to enjoy your day! You rarely get to rest as of lately….” You pout, he laughs before leaning to give you a kiss.

“With you by my side, there’s no way I cannot.”

After that is done, followed by a relaxing bath and a delicious meal prepared by you—Naoya insists in only being fed by you, not the staff; you happily oblige—you’re quick to take your place by his side on the futon, wrapping one of his arms around your waist and rest your head against his chest while his free hand holds up one of his favorite magazines, the one that publishes his favorite anime of the moment.

“I read they had to reprint this issue solely because of one mistake. Nothing too big, but apparently big enough to have the whole publisher pull out the magazine…”

“Gee, that must’ve been quite the task—And to allow it too! Is the author that big or something?”

“Kind of, he’s the best seller at the moment.”

“No wonder, if he’s not happy, that means no business for them.” You sigh. “I wonder if the change is even noticeable.”

“I don’t know, but that’s what I’ll figure out now—they usually point it out anyways.” Naoya squeezes you against him, kissing the top of your head.

“Well, that’s sounds like a wonderful plan!” You grin. “And if you get hungry, or want something to snack on, just let me know and I’ll bring it to you.”

Naoya blushes.

“I love you.”

It’s your turn to blush.

“I love you too.”

The rest of the evening would go on that way, with Naoya reading his manga, eyes intently fixed on the panels while murmuring to himself whenever particularly interesting scene occurs, if not scoffing when a character does something stupid—just as he did in real life; both gestures that you found incredibly cute, how relaxed he is when doing things he loves.

And though he was very focused on that, he was still attentive enough to your presence and gestures, hands and lips looking for yours whenever you reached out to him or vice versa, as well as allowing you to feed him, careful enough to not distract him that much.

Because you just couldn’t snap him out of trance, you know? He looked so adorable!!

Although it would turn a bit… too much soon enough.

“I don’t—I don’t want anything else, Y/N—” he protests when you try to shove another piece of popcorn into his mouth, going as far as moving away, but you simply stuck to him.

“Come on, you have to eat!”

“Not to this point!” Naoya gasps, stomach full to the point of exploding! Of so it feels. “I don’t—I don’t want anything else!”

“Tough luck, Naoya—If you didn’t want me to spoil you, you shouldn’t have stayed home!” you giggle, and Naoya just relents, because he can’t do anything else when he’s putty to both your adorable charm and insistence, his beloved wife.

A side of Naoya that fortunately, is just for your eyes to see.

I just realized that Naoya was the kind of guy to say: "I want a wife that is submissive, that is only attentive to me and knows her place and yadda yadda yadda" until you came along and he was like "ok I like that but... I also want kisses...."

Idk I just keep thinking he's very desperate for affection hahaha call it ooc I DO NOT CARE I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM. 😶😶

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this small thing 🥺❤️ him getting all flustered because you're always so caring to him is AGH healing!!! We could literally change him...

Now, thank you so much for sending in this ask ❤️❤️❤️ take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[thefirst3chapters]

Unpopular opinion (maybe): Luke's ultimatum at the end of Season 3 inadvertently reinforced Jess's choices that stopped him from finishing high school in the first place.

Disclaimer: The intent here isn't to attack Luke for how he handled things. The overall effect of Luke's presence in Jess's life is undoubtedly positive and instrumental to where Jess ended up. Luke was put in an unfair position that he wasn't prepared for, he genuinely cared and tried his best with the knowledge he had, and it would have been well within his rights to say no to Liz to begin with or to Jess when he came back after the car accident.

From what Jess tells Rory in "Teach Me Tonight," it sounds like he never had much academic support from adults, which is of course why Rory's belief in him will end up meaning so much. Details about Jess's childhood that are revealed once Liz is around suggest that Jess didn't have trustworthy adults in his life and had to learn how to be self-sufficient early. Even though we as the audience can see that Luke is responsible and trustworthy through his own actions and his relationships with people who have known him for many years, Jess doesn't have the same history with him, and it can take a long, long time to unlearn those survival instincts. Additionally, Jess's Walmart manager, as gregarious and pro-corporate as he seems to be, doesn't appear to engage in the practice of pressuring introverts to socialize (which happened to Rory at Chilton) and allows Jess to do something constructive and work toward a tangible reward. Some people get these benefits from going to school, but Jess didn't. Then there's a layer of youthful hubris here because Jess really did seem to think that he could manage all of this and go to school just enough to graduate based on what he tells Rory in S3 E17, Luke in S3 E18, and the principal in S3 E19. With of all this information in mind, it's really not surprising that Jess would prioritize work above school. His logic is self-destructive but understandable, and his fatal flaw ends up being that he committed to more responsibilities than a person could reasonably handle. This isn't the standard media portrayal of ditching school.

Luke's approach to being Jess's guardian is fairly hands-off. After Luke's "laying down the law" talk in the first episode Jess is in, the only requirement we see enforced is that Jess has to work at the diner, which Jess complies with. Luke didn't know Jess was working at Walmart at all until Jess bought his car, he didn't know Jess was eventually working more than full-time hours, and he didn't know Jess was missing as much school as he was. (This last one suggests a significant oversight at the school, which is another story.) When the extent of Jess's work hours is brought to his attention and Lorelai speculates about what is going on, he tells Lorelai that there is no way Jess would skip school and doesn't investigate further. When he realizes Jess is working some days instead of going to school, he offers to pay Jess more at the diner (and later steals his car) to prevent him from working at Walmart (the place he worked before he had a car to earn the money to buy it???) but doesn't press him about what is really going on.

So after all of that, it turns out Jess didn't go to school enough to graduate. Luke does give Jess the option to stay in Stars Hollow and keep going to school, but I could never blame someone for not being able to have a rational conversation immediately after a stranger randomly shows up, claims paternity, and runs out. The emotional damage of that incident really can't be divorced from what happens here. Luke is of course also in crisis mode. Jess didn't graduate because he worked too much, so now he's in a position where his consequence is to keep doing what got him into trouble, only this time he doesn't have anyone looking after him. This isn't what Luke is intending, but his ultimatum basically reinforces Jess's mindset of prioritizing work (i.e. short-term financial security) above school and his reluctance to trust other people, and it reinforces Jess's family history (ironically not including Luke) of abandoning difficult situations (in this case, the aftermath of the fight with Dean) and relationships (in this case, Rory) instead of facing them. Jess ends up on his own with the money he had from work that he was saving for a different car, so he probably thinks it's a good thing he worked as much as he did, and he ends up without adult guidance or restrictions to help him sort all this out and repair the harm he caused. This could have turned out much more darkly than it did, and it's really a miracle that Jess got to where he was by the time he was 21.

When Jess is with Jimmy in California, he acknowledges that he's failed and doesn't know where to go from there. It probably isn't outlandish to think that Jess was earning more as a full-time forklift driver than what he is earning during Season 4. Factoring in the lower cost of living in Stars Hollow or somewhere nearby compared to New York, he probably could have been able earn a decent living if he stayed at Walmart (even if he wouldn't have been better off in the long run). That's probably why Luke's "I'm sorry I didn't think driving a forklift for the rest of your life was good enough for you" stung. It was likely a much better situation than whatever Jess is in mid-Season 4.

In late Season 4, Jess seems resigned to where he is. He doesn't complain or blame anyone else for his circumstances, even when Luke repeatedly mocks him in New York. (Even mid-Season 4, Jess doesn't express anger toward Luke about anything other than Luke stealing his car until Luke provokes him multiple times.) Maybe Jess was already thinking about writing a book or studying for a GED during Season 4, but his posture and mannerisms seem to suggest defeat more than anything else. At this point, Jess might not be envisioning anything other than what he has. It is only after Luke accepts Jess for who he is, and stops seeing him as a failed project, ("You are who you are. I cannot change that, and I'm going to stop trying.") that Jess really starts to move forward. Although Luke isn't even very positive in how he says this, it's still the sort of affirmation Jess always needed and maybe never received from a family member before. Then, he's honest with Luke about his emotions, he's receptive to Luke's advice, he expresses appreciation for what Luke did for him, he offers Luke a way to stay in contact, and he makes a commitment to pay him back even though Luke says he doesn't have to do so. He tries (and fails, for the time being) to make amends with Rory, and after all of these things happen, he progresses into the version of himself that returns in Season 6. Jess pursues a path that Luke doesn't quite understand but has accepted and is proud of (it's also a path that Rory does understand and is proud of, and both forms of support are so important).

[likeamaya]

can i just say that as someone who got interested in the sonic universe only after the movies i LOVED the series?

seriously i read SO MANY complaints about the series from sonic’s fans and they make it sound so damn serious.

it was fun, it was nice and most importantly we got to see knuckles having fun and getting friends with wade and his family.

LOOK AT HIM. THE DEFINITION OF CUTENESS.

he has always been on the run, he has been ALL ALONE since his father and whole tribe died. he is not used to a normal, peaceful life. and he obviously feels overwhelmed because, despite sonic and the wachowski’s best intentions, they simply can’t understand how strange and different this all is for him.

and thanks to wade he got to feel a bit more comfortable and carefree. wade didn’t tell him what he was supposed to do to get accostumed to earth. instead, he showed him how much fun it could be if he let his guard down. and so knuckles got to act silly and open up to someone who, despite the obvious differences, he could relate to.

so yeah, there obviously were times in which i was like “where the heck is me boy?”.

but when i read people defining the series as “ridiculous” or “trash” i get pissed. it was good enough, sonic’s veteran fans gotta chill.

ALSO

she called him “one of her kids”. KNUCKLES WACHOWSKI CONFIRMED. WE KEEP ON WINNING Y’ALL.

[mslanna]

Maybe something about Raphael reacting to Haarlep reading through his diary/journal (this is why you give your incubus enrichment, folks!) and the incubus pointing out the frequency a certain 'little mouse' seems to be appearing as the subject in his writings? Heck, maybe Haarlep even tries to convince Raphael to let them obtain Tav's form so that the cambion can indulge in his little mouse whenever he wants.

What is says on the bos sfw kinda Read it on AO3

Depleted

"How often did I tell you not to do this?" Raphael plucked his diary from Haarlep's hand.

"As often as you caught me," his personal incubus replied. "Which is way not as often as I did it."

They leant back lasciviously, presenting a world of possibilities their master. As usual, Raphael barely noticed. The cambion was more concerned with the content of his diaries. Well, at least this time Haarlep had refrained from drawing naughty sketches into it.

"You really shouldn't leave them lying about like that. It's clearly an invitation." Not that Raphael would notice an invitation if he saw one. Haarlep dialled back the preening and offering. Such a spoilsport and killjoy.

"It was locked away in my desk," Raphael admonished.

"Yes, exactly where I know it will be," Haarlep purred. "That is not even trying to keep me away."

"I also told you not to touch it." The cambion's voice turned hard.

"You tell me that about so many things." Haarlep rose. He stepped behind his master, laid his chin on Raphael's shoulders and wrapped his arms around his middle. Their tail settled around his ankle, it's tip slipping up the trouser leg. "And yet, I touch everything. A lot."

Raphael slapped their hands away when they moved towards his crotch. Stuck-up snitch. What was this if not the prefect set-up for a little powerplay? If he'd chose more enjoyable sex, Raphael would, well, enjoy it more. Haarlep was sure of that. They were among the best.

"You like it," they purred into the cambion's ear. "And I know what you like best. If only you'd relax enough for an orgasm that's actually worth my services."

"Away," Raphael huffed. He did learn that a 'get off' had a very different effect on his incubus.

Still, Haarlep did not let go. "Are you pent up for a somebody special maybe? My little brat looking at another little thing scurrying through his life?" He nibbled at Raphael's ear. "I have seen them come up often in your diary. So, so often. Are we pining?"

"They are an investment, nothing more," Raphael replied gruff.

But even in the sharp rejection, Haarlep saw that they had hit a nerve. "Invested in them, are we? How nice. Do they know about your intentions? Beyond a deal?"

"There are no-" Raphael broke off because Haarlep bit him into the neck. Gently, but determined. In the moment of distraction, they sent their hands below his waist, circling over the inside of his thighs.

"Are you thinking of them now?" Haarlep purred. "Of their little mortal hands on your hot infernal skin? The earthy smell of the material plane and its deaths. What sweet words do you want to hear? Or do you prefer sounds of devout supplication? You can have all of it. Right now."

"You are not Tav." Raphael jerked free of their embrace. "Nothing you offer is close-"

"Ha! I knew it. I always do." Haarlep clapped. "How delightful. The high and mighty cambion has fallen for a stinky, mortal mousling! Are they close to falling into your trap? Will you bring them here to play?"

Raphael stayed silent. He thumbed through the diary, frowning at the sketches of dancing imps and almost suggestive flora.

"I can help you, you know?" Haarlep wound back around their master. "They don't seem too eager to deal with you. But I? I can get close, close enough to strip them of anything in your way to their heart. I can even take their form. Wouldn't that please you?"

Haarlep slipped their arms back around Raphael. "I can get them for you. Soft hands and mewling mouth and all. For you. Whenever you want. However you want. With the greatest enthusiasm. Think about it, my little brat. All the fun with none of the vulnerability."

Raphael didn't move. A good sign. He was considering it. Still, in the end, he pried them off and left the boudoir with a huff. But it was a start. A morsel to tempt the eternally uptight cambion into actual fun times.

Maybe they'd finally get something to do in this horrible place. Haarlep was used to being somebody else and despite the public displays, Raphael harboured little self-love. Pleasure was to be had efficiently, quickly, like any other business. The bloody idiot kept his lust pent up just to release it before he exploded. When there was so much more fun to be had.

But that little mouse cropping up in every other diary entry – Raphael hadn't been that obsessed since Hope. And she, well, she was a hopeless case.

Haarlep returned to the bed and pulled another of Raphael's diaries out from under a pillow. The cambion should really stop hiding them in place they were certain to find them. They'd see to it that they'd get that little mouse's form for their collection – one way or another. If only to scrounge an ounce of emotion out of Raphael for once.

[yanderes-galore]

Is it possible to ask for a romantic concept of Eren + Mikasa (AOT) sharing a darling???

Sure! I'm not finished Season 4 so I chose this to take place during Seasons 1-3 personality and plot-wise. If you want a Season 4 version eventually, I can probably do that.

Yandere! Eren + Mikasa sharing a Darling

(Seasons 1-3)

Pairing: Romantic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Jealousy, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence/Implied murder, Yanderes sharing, Blood, Stalking, Kidnapping/isolation, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Honestly, these two are such a duo.

They would definitely share more than fight over their obsession.

Although, as this is romantic intentions, I have a feeling there's some quarreling.

A way this could work is Eren starts with romantic feelings and Mikasa just means to support him at first.

So essentially... It can start as Platonic! Eren and Platonic! Mikasa... then Romantic! Eren and Platonic! Mikasa... then eventually we get to both of them as romantic.

You're no doubt a Scout like them, which just adds to their protective behavior.

Originally the two are just your friends and comrades.

You admire Eren's driven personality and his determination... even if it gets him in trouble.

You also grow to befriend Mikasa, mostly due to the fact she's grown up with Eren and naturally wanted to know more about you.

She may be quiet and stoic, but she clearly cares for both you and Eren.

The two very well may stay platonic for awhile.

They always have looked out for you since you were Cadets.

Now, as Scouts, they're always with you in the field.

The two are actually terrifying as yanderes, that's not even including season 4.

First of all, Mikasa is one of the best Scouts there is.

Second of all, Eren's a titan-shifter.

You are probably one of the most protected Scouts there is.

When Eren has more control of his titan, he probably lets you and Mikasa sit on his shoulders.

I imagine romantic feelings slowly develop when it comes to them.

It probably starts for both of them, but one of them is more intense (Most likely Eren).

Eren is no doubt the one who admits to Mikasa that he likes you.

Mikasa is surprised, perhaps even a bit hurt, but supports Eren.

Which transitions the duo into Romantic/Platonic instead of Platonic.

Mikasa's feelings take longer to brew, but Eren certainly adores you.

Two problematic "rivals" for both of them could probably be Armin and Jean.

They both care for Armin and in earlier seasons despise Jean.

I imagine if you were close with Armin, the two are conflicted.

They care about Armin a ton, so they'd never get into violent fights.

Eren may express irritation or feel dejected, but Mikasa is calmer.

They may be more subtle with Armin in their attempts to distance you two.

But Jean causes a more volatile reaction from both of them.

Eren, in earlier seasons, naturally hates Jean's personality.

Plus iirc, Jean would flirt with Mikasa sometimes, which she hates.

Safe to say they both despise it when Jean speaks or flirts with you.

Eren starts to pick fights but Mikasa tries to soothe herself and pull you away.

Eventually, Mikasa realizes she loves you too.

She probably learns this while working with you in the Scouts for awhile or realizing how irritated she feels when you take your attention away.

Eventually she probably gets the courage to tell Eren about it, feeling guilty as she knows Eren loves you... but hasn't confessed.

Eren seems to have a mixed reaction to this information.

He's a bit possessive about you and is unsure what to think.

However, if Eren was going to share with anyone, it would be Mikasa.

Which then makes the duo both romantic.

Confessing... well, confessing takes time.

The two have gained a reputation when it comes to you.

Many in the regimen know Eren and Mikasa collectively have a thing for you.

It's seen in the way they fight beside you, always prioritizing you.

If you're in trouble, Mikasa's either cutting down a titan's nape or Eren's tackling them in his titan form.

As for human encounters?

They're somehow around you, watching carefully.

Both of them don't mind spilling blood, even more so in season 3.

If anyone dared to hurt you... they're dealing with a dangerous duo.

Now eventually... confessing will happen.

The two ask you to meet them in private, that or one of them approaches you to meet them in private.

Then when you all gather, the two let loose.

They tell you their feelings, everything from how much they care about you to how jealous they are of those around you.

They admit they're scared to lose you and both want to date you.

The decision is... difficult, no doubt.

However, the two are willing to wait.

Due to their persistence... there's a good chance they aren't willing to give you up completely...

But they will wait until you're ready to accept them.

If you don't? Well... They'll find some way to convince you to see it their way... Even if it means losing the freedom you strive for.

For example, they stage an injury to keep you out of combat and with them... or they just straight up go rogue and kidnap you.

If anyone tried to stop them, Mikasa isn't afraid to bloody her blade and Eren certainly isn't holding back either.

You may be crying... shaking at the sight of them covered in blood... but everything will be okay in the end, that's what they say.

Soon... Soon they know you'll be happy with them.

You just need some convincing....

[sgiandubh]

I bet that once he gets the trademark Lallybroch he will stand in that arch in a Jamieesque manner to promote the spirit.

Thank you for the all clarifying lesson on trademarks.

Dear Trademark Anon,

Not really my intention to lecture our corner of the fandom on trademarks, but I think you know by now I like to get to the bottom of anything that catches my interest.

And nope - thank you for the kind words, Anon. This episode reminded me of those sleepless exam nights, when we were frantically revising in pajamas in one of the most beautiful student dorms in France, a stone throw away from the Sorbonne: https://www.fie.fr/en/the-foyer/.

I have spent two wonderful years there, only to move to the bigger - but not better - campus, a couple of miles South, and finally got my own studio in one of those charming 'village' neighborhoods tourists never manage to get to, in the Quinzième Arrondissement's Little Persia, near Grenelle. It's called like that because a hefty quarter of the Persian émigré community, the rich one, lives there, owing to real estate speculation and buying half of the newly built high-rises facing the Seine, near the Pont Mirabeau, in the early Seventies.

But those two first years at the FIE were by far the best, Anon. We always stayed up scandalously late in the Library and ended up colonizing that cozy table in front of the ornate fireplace, L, R and I, endlessly quizzing each other and trying to make sense of all that legalese. It was brutally fun, Anon. And we remained, of course, friends for life, no matter what:

Forgive my babble, Anon. Some of you seem to like it. If you don't, just scroll on.

PS: he'd probably do exactly that. But can you blame him? It's so damn easy, so damn lazy, but so damn effective, too, as far as his Only crowd is concerned.

[mama-qwerty]

Knuckles Series - My Way

Okay, so overall, my whole family had fun watching it together, and there were things I liked about it, and things I thought could have been done better.

So how would I have handled the series?

Buckle up, this’ll get long.

We open the same way (without Sonic’s voiceover – let Knuckles explain things and get us into his mindspace) and see Knux training in his home-built obstacle course. Once he’s done, he feels victorious, before his smile drops and a new expression clouds his features as a thought occurs.

Now what?

He’s the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy. He’s bested countless opponents, survived harsh environments and any challenger who came forth. He successfully completed his quest to find the Master Emerald, allowing his tribe and ancestors to finally find peace.

But that’s something he can’t understand how to cope with.

Peace.

He’s never known it. All his life has been a struggle, a fight, a battle to be waged and won. Now that he is safe, without constant bounty hunters after him, without fearing being tossed into an arena to fight for his life, what does he do with himself? What’s next?

This is when he heads back to the house to ‘battle’ the handymen. Maddie tries to soothe things over, but they drive off, and she makes her way to Knux, who’s celebrating his victory over the ‘trespassers’ with Cool Ranch Doritos.

Now, instead of her getting frustrated and just walking off to talk to the others about the “little red barbarian”, she sits down with him and tries to have a real talk. Tries to get to know him, and understand him better. He’s still in the kind of arrogant, boastful, “I’m the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy” mindset, so he’s not really listening. But she tries.

Next thing you know, he’s on the roof with Ozzy and Sonic goes up to chat with him. He meditates, does the fighting pit and Iron Throne, and gets grounded. All that can stay the same.

Here’s where we diverge.

Sonic comes up, gives him the “Just relax” speech, and Knuckles does some grumbling about it before sitting near the Master Emerald. He vents a bit about how he can best any challenger, but doing nothing is harder than any battle he’s ever faced. He just doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he prays to his ancestors for guidance.

The ME glows, and his father appears before him in a vision. Dad tells Knuckles he is so proud of him, and when Knux questions what he should do now, Dad tells him that the time for fighting is at an end. That echidna weren’t always warriors—they were protectors once, using their strength to keep those weaker safe.

Knuckles contemplates this, and asks what that means for him. He has already pledged his life to protecting the Master Emerald, what else is there?

His father smiles, and shakes his head.

“My son, there is so much you have missed as you journeyed to finish our quest. You were so young when I left you. Do you not remember the village? Our tribe? We had songs, and history, and traditions that brought us a sense of belonging and togetherness. We were more than a tribe. We were a family. A home. Any man is stronger when he has those he cares for at his side. Those he trusts.”

Knuckles bristles at this. “I was hunted for most of my life. Constantly searching. I have no home. No tribe. Not anymore. I am alone.”

Dad shakes his head again. “That is not true. But I fear you will not believe me, so you shall have to come to see that for yourself.”

Knux gives a harumph. “The honor of the echidna falls to me alone.”

“Our honor was tainted by the actions of some so long ago that the truth has become lost. Your quest is ended. Your fight, over. You’ve returned what was once used and lost by those with ill intent. Your actions are noble. That is where true honor lies.”

Silence settles for a moment, before Knuckles speaks again, softly.

“I miss you. I . . . was not prepared for what I found in my journeys.” He paused. “For what found me.”

“I know, my son. I curse my own stubbornness for not turning back once the battle looked too lost. For leaving you so alone. I beg your forgiveness for being such a fool.”

“You were a warrior. Your brothers in arms needed you.”

“I was a father first and foremost. My son needed me more.”

More silence. Knuckles looks so much younger now, his face relaxed and pensive, his body no longer rigid and proud. Now he’s just a lost child, missing his father, and unsure what his future holds.

“You must stop living your life for us,” his father says, his voice soft. “You’ve completed our quest, and I am proud of you for that. But this was not the life I wanted for you. I have seen how some can become so focused on battling to the death, they forget to live life in between. I want you to live, my son. I want you to find happiness and light in your world. I want you to seek out those weaker than you, and lend your strength to them.”

Knuckles is quiet for a moment.

“I have done things I am not proud of. Trusted those who betrayed me. Hurt people. Been tricked into helping those who are evil.”

“The fault lies with those who have tricked you, or betrayed you. Not with you for trusting them. You have a pure heart, my son. Like your mother. Do not let the actions of others cause that heart to grow cold.”

So they finish up their little heart-to-heart and Knuckles decides to take his father’s words to heart. No time like the present, so he sneaks out of the house to wander the town and see where he can help.

MEANWHILE

I haven’t gotten Wade’s story all figured out, but maybe he’s feeling particularly down today because it’s the anniversary of when his dad abandoned him. He tried to go to the bowling alley to try and recapture that feeling of being with his dad, but it’s not working and only making him more miserable. He gets smack talked by Susie (or whomever) and feels so dejected he just leaves.

Now, normally when Wade moves through town, he’s all smiles and greeting everyone. But today he’s quiet and sullen and walking like he’s got a little rain cloud above him. No one seems to really notice or care, but Knuckles notices and decides to follow.

He watches as Wade throws his bowling ball into the trash. Curious, Knux digs it out and follows him back to his house. Wade goes in, goes to the kitchen, opens the fridge to grab a beer, and when he closes the door Knuckles is just there, scaring Wade half to death. (I have a headcanon that Knux can be so stealthy he seems to just appear sometimes.)

Knuckles asks Wade what troubles him, which launches into the whole “I used to love bowling with my dad, until he just left” backstory. Maybe Wade’s been writing letters, trying to get his dad to contact him, to at least get an answer for why he left. But he’s never heard back.

Wade’s father’s abandonment is what’s caused Wade’s meek and people-pleasing personality. Maybe he thinks he angered his dad somehow or disappointed him and that’s why Pete left. So Wade never wants to do anything to anger or disappoint anyone else. But this way of life is making him miserable, because no one takes him seriously, and he’s treated like a joke. He knows this but doesn’t know how to change.

Knuckles sees the obvious answer. “If your father’s disappearance is what caused you to lose your confidence, then confronting him would help you gain it back.”

Wade’s not so sure, but lets Knux talk him into going on a road trip to Reno, where Pete’s competing in the Championship Bowling thing.

They still stop at Wade’s mom’s house—because his sister is a big reason he feels inferior—and his mom is exactly the same because I love her, but his sister has got to have a personality change. Maybe she’s always been jealous of Wade because he was the favorite child, or she’s a bit angry because Wade always held out some hope that Pete would come back (which in turn, gave their mother that hope, which Wanda never shared and thought a waste of energy). Wanda holds a lot of anger toward Pete for running out on them, and because Wade and Pete were so close, she transfers a lot of those bad feelings to Wade.

She’s not in the FBI. She’s not some bratty kid in a grown woman’s body, being a real bitch to Wade. But she has anger and bitterness toward Pete, and thinks Wade’s trip to see him is a waste of time. And maybe she pulls him aside and tells him this, as a way to try and save him from being hurt again. Maybe she even tells Knuckles that this is only going to end up making Wade feel worse.

As the siblings bicker and argue, making Mother Whipple feel bad, Knuckles has had it and declares that they will fight to hash out these negative feelings. He hands them both Nerf bats, and they just pummel each other as they spit out everything they’ve felt. Eventually an epiphany happens, and Wade yells “I just want to know that he didn’t leave because of me!”

Everyone freezes. Wade goes on to say that ever since his dad left, he’s always thought it was his fault. Because he wasn’t what his dad wanted. Because he did something wrong, or wasn’t good enough, or something. And he knows that Pete leaving hurt his mom, and his sister was mad at not only their dad but him too, so he tried to be ‘good’ and not make others mad. He was always afraid to be himself since then, because if his own dad didn’t like him, then what hope did that leave for anyone else to?

Wade felt forced to change who he was in order to survive. That’s something Knuckles can identify with.

Basically, the whole thing would be both of them coming to understand that family legacy doesn’t necessarily mean that’s who they have to be. That they can choose who they are, without some expectation hanging over them based on their ancestors. That their strength comes from within, not from being the best warrior (Knuckles) or having his father’s approval (Wade).

And that you can still find your home and family, even if it’s been a long time since you’d been part of one.

We don’t even necessarily have to have a dedicated antagonist in this. It could be a form of Man vs Self, where they find themselves in situations that their current behavior exacerbates.

If there is an external villain, maybe something a little different, like a collector of exotic animals gets wind of Knuckles being out of the protection of Green Hills, and sets out to nab him for himself. Or it could be someone who wants Knux for his secret fighting ring or something. This could bring up bad memories for Knux, of being captured and sold as a child, and forced to fight in arenas for the amusement of others.

All in all, instead of having GUN as the villain of the week (again), with some dude who’s using Knux’s own power against him (again), this could have had a more introspective feel that didn’t fall into the “kids have to fight some big baddie” trope. The enemy they’re both fighting is within themselves.

The whole point would be for Knuckles to realize that he didn’t HAVE to fight all the time, and discover that there’s more to him than just being the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy. That he’s allowed to have fun, to have preferences and new experiences that in no way have anything to do with training or besting others. That he’s allowed to discover who he is, and get back in touch with the child inside he’d been protecting all these years.

I want him to see things in wonder. I want him to explore the world, to be captivated by things he’s never seen before. To feel comfortable letting his guard down, being close with others, and just being a little silly.

I want him to learn that it’s okay to be a kid. And I want Wade to learn it’s okay to be a grown up. Because Knuckles grew up before his time, and Wade kept himself from growing up for fear of being like his dad, or being abandoned again.

I think there were some good kernels in the series, perfect for the fandom to take and run with.

I’m not sure how much I’ll play with the events of the series, but I have had some scenes with Callie meeting Wade’s family percolating.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! Want to double check that I've done a decent job of avoiding disfiguremisia, and try to turn it into great counter to hatred instead of just an okay one.

Preface: I have a form of memory loss and likely brain damage so I cannot always phrase things clearly although I will try my best.

Personally I do not feel happy reading escapist stories as that happy ending is not achievable for real people. We don't get to live in a place that's completely safe and free from judgement. I'd like to write people in a hostile world who find love and safety and community, however this does necessite writing hostility. I want to make sure I'm doing so with care.

I would like to make sure that the hostility written as tension does not tar how I write how one of the main characters. He should be written with dignity and respect even when he is not being treated well by those around him.

One of my characters is blind and develops severe burn scars. He wears a blindfold to help with photophobia and sensory overwhelm, but takes it off when its dim. (CVI plus autism.)

While he does wear a cloth coverings in public due to ugly laws, he views it as a ridiculous requirement and happily removes this mask when with friends. He also enjoys that being visibly strange or somewhat unnerving to most people means that shallow people who judge by appearances avoid him.

Question: what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia? I have him being content with his face as it tells a story of his life and he's a blunt, forward person, not covering his face for most of the story despite laws necessitating that he do so, and a few other things too (and many side characters with facial differences and deformities also).

Also none of the central plotlines centre around facial difference. He's joining a servant rebellion, befriending a bitter exile intent on status at all costs, and discovering the truth of history. (Also a mind controlling octopus being is involved and a semi sentient moon amalgam thing but don't worry about it everything's fine.)

I think later books will be a more effective counter due to lack of ugly laws and him finding a lovely interest. I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world. I want his happy ending to feel real.

I respect the hell out of escapist fantasies it's just that they do nothing for me personally. I really want to write someone dealing with a lot - more than I ever have - and coming out the other end happy. Yes this world is hostile and will judge me but I can find joy despite it all. Some say the world is universally cruel but I have not found this to be the case. It is wise to be wary but myself and friends can create small sections of time and space where no precautions are necessary. Am I not part of the world? Are not they? The world is not universally cruel as long as I and those I treasure live in and we are not extraordinary, simply uncommon, and what is uncommon is still a great bounty. (Something to that effect.)

I'm set on what I want to write but the specifics I'm more than happy to change in order to bring joy. Do you have ideas on how I can do this full idea full justice?

Hello,

before getting to your actual ask, I have a "few" questions about the premise of the story itself.

You mention that you don't like escapist fantasies - that's fair. Taste differs; you can write whatever and that's great. But I do find the insistence to write a story about a specific type of discrimination as an outsider rather strange. If you want to have facial difference representation, I assume you want to have readers with facial differences, correct? I mean, I don't think that many able-bodied people would be too interested in it specifically considering most don't know what it is. So okay, this is supposed to be a story of characters with facial differences overcoming centuries worth of hatred and all that. Arguably more, considering that disfiguremisia and ableism go all the way back to Biblical times.

Why are you the person who needs to tell this story?

Just as people with facial differences are readers, we can be authors as well. We tell our stories. I will take an #OwnVoices book over a one that isn't that any day, and this fact will influence the rest of this answer. I'm a firm believer in #NothingAboutUsWithoutUs and all when it comes to this stuff.

Have you talked to people with facial differences who would be interested in the kind of story you want to tell? Do you know what they want to see from an author that's not taking it from their own experience? I don't count here, because as I made clear before, I'm not and won't be interested in it. I also don't know anyone in the community who has ever said "I wish more people without our experiences wrote about how hard it is to be us!". You need to make sure there are people who want this.

So, have, or will you, reach out to those that could like it? Sensitivity readers, random people online who like to read about disfiguremisia in their free time, advocates who work on media-centric problems? Anyone who would enjoy it is automatically a better candidate to help than me. I'm too jaded, I suppose.

If you want to talk about people with facial differences in such detail and setting, you need to get to know us. One guy with a specific set of opinions from a blog on Tumblr isn't that (thank god), but I guess I can serve as a reminder that not everyone will be excited to read a book that represents them in some way. We still have preferences.

To write it, you need to involve yourself in the community, start actually spreading activism about our issues. Preach about Face Equality and celebrate when our once-a-year week happens in May. See what disfiguremisia causes. Share our efforts to get all the problematic garbage off the big screen. Read our stories. Understand us as people who are incredibly diverse, and that not all of us like to be described as strange or unnerving.

If you only want to talk about our suffering as some quota to fill on a "types of discrimination" list, it will always be flat and inauthentic, and if you don't put in the effort it's pointless. We don't want tragedy porn, and we don't need to be included in every story about struggles that just wants some brand-new type of bigotry in it. We want authors who care about us, the living and breathing people. And sometimes it might mean respecting our opinions on writing disfiguremisia.

Here is a great post by @writingwithcolor explaining the effects of tragedy exploitation. Not everything there applies, but I would consider it a very valuable read.

If you think about all this, and decide that you are ready to write such a heavy, community-based story, go ahead to...

Actual Answers! Hooray

what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia?

Sympathize with him. Disfiguremisia is a tragedy, it's brutal and it hurts. It's traumatic and impossible to forget, even if it wasn't happening constantly just to remind us that it's still there. On this note, I would recommend you research writing characters with PTSD.

Have him think about it. Sometimes I get home after getting stared down on the street and just want to yell. You don't forget a microaggression or a hate crime after five minutes. Let him vent and let him be upset. He can have flashbacks or recall similar situations that happened in the past.

I'm glad that he's aware of disfiguremisia unlike a ton of characters who are somehow always unable to figure out that it's a problem. If the ableism he's facing is so systemic and severe, individual people will be even more extreme. You can have him remember that the shop owner was a slur-spitting bigot, or that his neighbors avoid even talking to him. I want him to call them out - in retrospective, at the moment, in his head, whatever - on what they're doing. Throw a "not this fucking thing again" or something in there.

The minimum is to make him feel like a human with an internal thought process, who is able to actually experience what's happening to him, and for it to have long-term effects.

Also, outside of the whole disfiguremisia thing and me being overdramatic, check out our #blindness tag, and research burn scar care. If you don't show the boring and mundane, it will only feel closer to tragedy porn; just a sad thing one after another.

I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world.

This I think is the part of the ask that made me the saddest, and not because of what you wrote. I tried to think of achievable ways; ways that we did it, tried to do it, and are doing it, and one-by-one I crossed them out as "didn't work", "no one cared enough" or "kinda worked but honestly, it didn't". Face Equality is basically non-existent, not matter how much it hurts me to admit it! We are trying our best, and it doesn't work. It's just plain hard for me to come up with suggestions for this.

In fiction, I suppose that personal resistance is the way when it comes to this. I don't think there are feasible systemic changes that could happen that don't border on magical thinking or get into the "singular glorious revolution that somehow fixes everything and everyone lived happy ever after. We fixed racism, yay!". This just sucks.He could try to educate the people who are willing to listen - that's somewhat what I'm trying to pull off here on this blog, I guess. Sometimes it works, often it doesn't, but in his situation it wouldn't hurt to try.

The fundamental part here will be whether your character is able to find a way to make the ordinary person care in the end. To me, society who still hates us just as much, with a small group that thinks we're okay isn't a happy ending. The opposite, rather. It's cold and isolating to know only your friends could value you as a human being, and downright sad to imply that we should be happy for that. I don't mean that everyone should love us in every story, but there's a difference between The Ableism being represented by an antagonist or two versus the entire world except for the main characters.

If you decide to go forward with this story, I do hope your other readers with facial differences enjoy it!

mod Sasza

[This ask was submitted before my announcement of not taking questions regarding this subject matter. As of publishing this, it still applies.]

[sleepynegress]

On Challengers...

Okay.

So, here's the thing. It's decent.

It's sassy, catfighty, but with dudes using rackets and tongue-wrestling, and the tennis scenes are tense, but... it wasn't at all confidently scandalous like I would've expected.

....Like I feel like they didn't push it far enough, somehow? And not even in the way you might think, with dicks a-swingin and thrusts abundant. Remember, the movie Closer? -I think that came out in 2007ish and was rated PG-13??? Or could have been if not for the language.

Natalie Portman has a similar nudity clause to her contract and *STILL* had the absolute sexiest scene with Clive Owen.... .....Which I'll put in this post to demonstrate what I mean. This felt like it held back at moments... When it came to pushing desire, between the men and/or with Zendaya, with one or the other. It just felt so tame to me given the hype. I was hoping for a return to artistic sensuality in film again, instead of this weird sort of by-rote-feeling purity culture we're having rn. (I'm watching Love Lies Bleeding tonight and I BET that delivers. Lesbians, salude!) I was hoping for Cruel Intentions' lush cut with The Dreamers' sensuality..if that makes sense?? AND some good-good tennis. THAT did deliver. WOW, some of the shots for that were eye-popping. A critic I follow noted that her issue (she always has the best takes I don't agree with all of them but they are always well-articulated) was that Zendaya was not fleshed out as a central figure, especially as a BLACK WOMAN. It was yet again another case of a Black woman dropped down from the moon coming from no people of her own, but just somehow existing in a sea of white people with not a hint of Black friends or loved ones.

Hell, they could've even laid out *her people* like the brilliantly underrated Beyond The Lights with Minnie Driver playing the stage manager mom to Gugu Mbatha Raw's biracial pop star. But that comes down to the white male gaze fucking it up, yet again. I looked up the screenwriter and just kind of nodded knowingly with an 'oh, yeah that's what I expected, that explains it...' He simply didn't have the range beyond a sort of vague tennis fetish for brown girls in short skirts grunting and swinging and wanting to do something with that. He admitted that Naomi and another Black woman player's interaction on the court *inspired* this...

Perception of Black women doing ANYTHING can be so heavy with a weirdly asexual gaze from white women and hyper-sexualized by white men. And if desire/centering tips in the "wrong" direction deemed by prejudice and our assumed place....*yeesh* we catch hell. You're either bafflingly too ugly to be treated with desire (whew the incel bigots are big mad that it's Zendaya and not a Sweeney-type) or only deemed good enough for it, because of that white gaze. And resented regardless.

*sigh* Can't win for losing. But I digress. Zendaya's co-stars are the oddest looking mystical-dwarf-head ass forest creature white boys with big ears, but they GAVE in the acting department. Mike Faist is a STAR. He has a sort of laidback sweetly confident rizz. But he definitely is the lovechild of a young Scott Glenn and DJ Qualls. I want to put him in a western immediately because he has Civil War photo face.

Mike O'Connor has that desperate dirty hairy scruffy thing like dude from The Bear. Like you KNOW he has a scratch tat somewhere and would do the dirty with his partner in the toilet stalls or anywhere else. Hollyweird is strange about beauty standards man. Back in the day, they used to pretend old white men, who looked like they smelled like Barbasol mixed w/ urine would somehow be sexy to a twentysomething. Now, we have this dichotomy of thankfully a little more of a diverse gaze for the centered "bombshell" other than blonde with large breasts number 32637263872.... but we also have some actresses cutting fat out their cheeks and being Ozempic thin. *sigh* ...While the "basic" hot boys are punching the air rn because they are also passé. Got to have something interesting going on in the face for everyone now, I think. Can't just be AI "pretty" anymore. Thankfully.

....Anyway. It is good, but with those caveats I laid out.

P.S. ICONIC for me is seeing Zendaya's Black-ass nose bridge drawn large on that poster. P.P.S Thank LUCA for doing the queer elements well... I personally don't think it went far enough, tho...

Mike bottoming for all, including getting pegged by Zendaya would've happened in my version of this... at least implied, come on (ficwriters?) Oh! and here are the clips from Closer, but then it was a successful play first, so the script is more substantial in that.

This is how filthy I expected Challengers to be, and it's just. not. Nothing in The Challengers touches the heavy heady nastiness in this scene IMO, but something in that movie should have, dammit! Note they never even touch each other.

[theworldoffostering]

You guys, I feel like I’m drowning. These past three weeks have felt unmanageable to me. Like, I don’t know how to keep going.

I’m walking alongside (trying the best I know how) the older girls as one navigates this break up and the other tries to transition to college. We got DD a car, but it still needs a few repairs. She was here all afternoon today working on it with DH.

I am waiting for the updated version of Ms. 6’s IEP to hit my inbox to send it off to the school. I am also working on her housing contract. Then I think I can step back for a few weeks. Still trying to figure out what’s going on with graduation. Her mom is back to letting her go to it and maybe allow her to stay for dinner, but it’s Memorial Day weekend and I don’t want to put a deposit down for a dinner somewhere only to have her not be allowed to attend at the last minute. I also don’t want to disappoint her. I’m unsure of how to proceed, so I’m just sort of frozen.

DS takes his civics test next week. You have to pass in order to graduate high school. He has prepared and seems like he will do well. He’s also pole vaulting and doing well at that for being a novice and having very little practice time due to the crummy weather we’ve been having.

Work is a lot right now. It’s to be expected due to the time of year. I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s a lot to slog through.

DH was verbally offered a job this week as a special education teacher. He is supposed to return to school to get his teaching certification in about a week, and is waiting for a letter of intent via email from the potential employer. It’s a lot. We are trying to manage the financial aid piece and we are up against a super tight deadline right now. His interview for the job was virtual, so he’s heading to the school next week to actually tour it and meet his potential coworkers. In the spirit of living in a small town, one of the women he used to live who was in live with him (for real)—the housing situation was work related—works at the school. She has legit not spoken to myself or DH since he and I got engaged so that seems like it will be super awkward (although she is also married now and has kids).

DH is finally seeing a decent therapist and between the therapist and neuropsych eval he had done during fall, it is apparent he is super depressed. Depressed is apparently his baseline and super depressed happens quite a bit. It is helpful to have it identified, but wow, it is a lot to live with. I am really struggling as his wife because he cannot do much and is not really emotionally available 90% of the time. He’s so inwardly focused, that he cannot focus on me, the kids, relationships, stuff that needs to be done, etc. I’m drowning and he cannot take on any of the workload. It sucks.

My endocrin had me take b12 supplements the last three months and my level actually decreased. I’m starting up with b12 injections next week. My TSH is also super, super low which means I’m hyperhyroid and should be losing weight, but I’m gaining which also sucks.

My endocrin is out of network for me which means my injections will be out of network. I have ZERO out of network benefits. The whole healthcare system is atrocious. I refuse to go back to the three endocrins I saw before I connected with my current one. They were all terrible, but in network. I need a super expensive full body scan but I for sure cannot pay for that out of pocket, so I’m waiting to see if my GP will prescribe it when I see him in June.

My crown also broke this week and when the dentist looked at it, I had worn a hole clear through the middle. He said it was due to grinding/stress. I wear a mouth guard religiously at night, so it’s happening during the day. :-/ Cue more medical bills. They glued my current one back on and can’t get me in to work on repair until June. I almost cried when trying to schedule with them because I just cannot even do all of this any more. (It also hurt wicked bad last time they fixed it so I’m somewhat terrified to return.)

That’s my list of complaints/brain dump. There’s more, but I need to wrap up some grading and get dinner going. I miss a life that was easier and less complicated.