#i trust them to narratively make it work but. sigh.

[shivjoys]

i was so caught up in the euphoria of logan roy dying that for a minute i lived in a world where shiv pregnancy arc didn't exist

[detydia]

Imagine Dean Winchester x You

Dean is being jealous.

The night was lively at the Roadhouse, a cacophony of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of conversations. Dean and Sam were sharing a drink at the bar. You sat a few stools away, chatting animatedly with a fellow hunter named Ethan.

As the night progressed, Dean found it increasingly difficult to focus on his conversation with Sam. His eyes kept drifting back to you, your laughter ringing in his ears, your smile lighting up the dimly lit room. He felt a growing knot of jealousy building within him.

"Hey, you alright there?" Sam asked, noticing his brother's distracted demeanor.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But inside, he was seething. He couldn't quite pinpoint why Ethan's presence grated on him so much. Was it the way he leaned in a little too close to you, or the laughter that seemed a tad too friendly?

As the night wore on, the jealousy gnawed at Dean like a persistent ache. He knew you were loyal and he trusted you completely, but the thought of another man even attempting to encroach on what was his infuriated him.

You finally joined them at the bar, your face beaming with excitement. "You won't believe the story Ethan just shared! It's wild."

Dean clenched his jaw, forcing a smile. "Oh yeah? I can't wait to hear it."

Ethan launched into his story, but Dean struggled to pay attention. He stole glances at you, your attention fully captivated by Ethan's narrative. Every chuckle, every shared moment, stoked the fire of jealousy within him.

In an attempt to ease the growing tension inside him, Dean excused himself to the restroom. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to shake off the irrational anger. "Calm down, man. She's with you," he whispered to his reflection.

When he returned to the bar, he found you engrossed in another animated conversation with Ethan. His jaw clenched again, frustration bubbling at the surface. He approached you, trying to put on a casual facade.

"Everything okay, babe?" he asked, though his voice carried a hint of possessiveness.

You looked up, surprised by the sudden intensity in his eyes. "Yeah, just enjoying the stories. Ethan has been all over the place!"

Dean nodded, trying to temper his jealousy. "Well, maybe we should get going. Early day tomorrow."

"Sure," you agreed, though a touch of disappointment flashed across your face.

As you left the Roadhouse, the cool night air did little to quell Dean's agitation. He opened the car door for you, a silent gesture that was usually comforting. But tonight, it was more about claiming what was his than a show of chivalry.

On the drive back to the motel, you tried to make conversation, but Dean's answers were curt and distracted. He was consumed by thoughts of Ethan, irritated that you seemed to enjoy his company so much.

"Dean, is something bothering you?"you finally asked, your voice tinged with concern.

He sighed, realizing he couldn't keep his jealousy bottled up any longer. "Look, it's just... I saw how you were with Ethan back there. It bothered me."

You furrowed your brow, perplexed. "Bothered you? Why?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, his frustration now tinged with vulnerability. "He's just... too friendly, I guess."

You chuckled softly, reaching over to hold his hand. "Dean, you're the only one I'm interested in. Ethan is just a friend."

"I know that," Dean replied, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing slightly. "But I can't help feeling... possessive sometimes."

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "I love that you care so much about me. But you have to trust that I know where to draw the line."

Dean exhaled, feeling some of the tension dissipate. He knew he had to work on controlling his jealousy, but having you understand and reassure him helped immensely. You drove in a comfortable silence, the weight of jealousy lifted.

[writing-for-life]

Dream's Therapist

I’m not sure if I should apologise for this brain fart in advance, but it just found its way to the page after this. Yes, this is how my brain works (or rather doesn’t)…

Intake Session

The client presented for his intake session on 22/04. When he made his appointment, he showed particular interest in the fact that this is an integrative therapy practice which uses cognitive, behavioural, somatic and Jungian approaches and is also versed in sex therapy. Naturally the ethical kind.

He was extremely on time (that is to say, close to three hours early), but he insisted on spending that time in the waiting area instead of coming back later. My receptionist assured me he did not move from the offered chair during that time and that he, in fact, did not move at all. She occasionally had to check (inconspicuously of course) if he was breathing.

Upon entering my office, he was polite if slightly aloof. He was dressed all black and refused to take off his coat. No problems with personal hygiene could be perceived from a distance. After getting seated, he enquired whether I could dim the lights ever so slightly because it was too bright, to which I agreed.

I noticed his staring at the crystal paperweight on my table for an extended period of time before he, seemingly out of nowhere, asked: “I trust your office is a mere illusion, a fleeting moment in existence?”

DT: Something like that I guess. What brings you here?

Dream: Well, I have these recurring nightmares. Not while I am sleeping, since I obviously don’t sleep.

DT: Obviously.

Dream: I create them.

DT: The nightmares?

Dream: Yes. And all of a sudden, they all suffer from… existential dread instead of helping to get rid of it. Also, my hair keeps getting tangled and knotted all the time, but I am not quite… certain if this relates in any way.

DT: Interesting. And how does that make you feel?

Dream (deadpan): Feel? I don't “feel”. I weave narratives, conjure nightmares, and occasionally attend celestial tea parties. Emotions are for mortals. The hair is inconvenient though.

DT: Right. Let's explore your childhood. Did you have any issues with your family?

Dream (I notice uneasy shifting in his seat): My family? My father, always running late. My mother… (I notice a slight tremble in his bottom lip)… well, she is… dark. My sister, Death, tells me I am a buzzkill, especially at family gatherings. Truthfully, I believe all my siblings are just trying to gaslight me into believing so because I can be… quite entertaining? (I notice uncertainty). Plus, one of them is… let's just say: they are the reason I have commitment issues.

DT: Commitment issues. Let’s expand on that a bit. Have you ever been in love?

Dream: (I notice extreme rigidity): Love is a quaint human invention, like gluten-free pizza or reality TV.

DT (I don’t know what that means and ignore it): I sense reluctance around the topic?

(He stares at the paperweight for a good 3 minutes)

Okay, let's try word association. I'll say a word, and you respond with the first thing that comes to mind. Ready?

Dream: Proceed, mortal.

DT: Sand.

Dream (I notice a raised eyebrow and a slightly tetchy sigh): Golden grain sifting through my fingers.

DT: Pillow.

Dream: A convenient weapon during astral battles.

DT (I momentarily feel confused and lose my footing, to which he reacts with)

Dream: I could show you? (I notice he makes a move to get up from his seat)

DT: That won’t be necessary right now… Word association: Unicorn.

Dream: (I notice grave seriousness) My ex-wife. I think.

DT: That should suffice for now. Let’s briefly discuss coping mechanisms. How do you handle stress?

Dream: Stress? When the universe unravels and the fabric of the Dreaming tears, I binge-watch reality shows. The Kardashians, mostly.

DT: Why the Kardashians?

Dream: Distraction. Inspiration. For all manner of things. Mostly nightmares.

DT (I notice the recurring theme of nightmares): Do you hold any hopes or dreams for the future?

Dream (I notice a nervous twitch around his mouth which he tries to hide unsuccessfully): I am the King of Dreams. Dreams shape reality itself. But if you must know, I dream of a world where everyone flosses regularly and understands general relativity.

DT: Why is flossing important?

Dream: I just like good teeth.

DT: Why general relativity?

Dream: Because it would help. With ships.

DT: What ships?

Dream (I notice eye-rolling and bridge-of-nose-pinching): Never mind.

DT: It’s okay, we can talk about anything that seems important to you.

Dream: It is of no import. Is time up yet?

DT: No.

Dream: Good, I shall leave then.

DT (I feel confused but try not to show it and respect the client’s wish to leave. I’m getting paid either way): Same time next week?

Dream (who is already standing): Time is a mere construct. But yes, let us pencil it in. And remember, reality is just a draft…

Further notes: The client suffers from insomnia and thinks he creates nightmares. He potentially has internalised he is one. He seems detached from his feelings to the point he believes he does not have any emotions and does not seem to relate to being human. He feels misunderstood by his whole family and suffers from the delusion that his sister is Death. He makes another of his siblings responsible for his failed relationships, which has led to the ingrained belief that love is not for him. He seems to compensate with believing he is above others and refers to himself as the “King of Dreams”. I notice a tendency to shirk potentially painful topics. He seems to communicate diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities apart from binge-watching TV, but he seems quite enamoured with the concept of astral battles and general relativity, which requires further exploration…

[katuschka]

A Rollercoaster Ride with Tom&Jerry

Josh Kiszka x male OC (1st person narrative) 8.014 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere. Warnings: intense and confusing emotions; swear words; both verbal and physical fights; oral sex; anal sex (surprise, surprise, it's about two guys); toys; choking&gagging&some spanking; BDSM; ...so you see, it's not for everyone. This is basically a story about finding and re-establishing mutual trust. It involves conflict. Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burned. So if you have any doubts that you're gonna be able to handle it, proceed with caution. Big thanks goes to: 1. @edgingthedarkness for making an illustrative short video (you're gonna find it inside the story below) that should make the whole experience even juicier! 2. all my beta-readers and cheerleaders, especially @writingcold, @edgingthedarkness, @its-interesting-van-kleep and @thewritingbeforesunrise. Cheers, guys.

I've got some things to say 'Cause there's a lot that you don't know It's written on my face It's gonna be hard to swallow (P!nk)

“You’re awfully quiet tonight. What’s going on?” 

I sighed. Yeah, no shit. There was actually so much I wanted to say to him ever since the show ended, I just couldn’t figure out how to do that without sounding like a jealous little girl. My mind was absolutely racing and when that happens, the connection between my brain and my mouth just gets cut off completely. It’s a serious condition, really. Commonly known as “sulking.” 

I often accompany him on tour, but I try to avoid live shows. I have my reasons. Hundreds of them. I agreed to be there for the last few concerts, which I now deeply regretted. 

It had been a really busy and eventful week; me, myself and I getting increasingly irritated – by everything, but mostly him – as the days went by, and tonight’s events felt like the last straw. Part of me wanted to be finally alone with him, and another part just wanted to be alone. So, as a result, I just tried to avoid him. I had kept to myself while watching him down his beer as the band enjoyed their aftershow high back in the green room. No one else seemed to pay attention to me, and for that I was glad. Now we were sitting in a car on our way back to the hotel room, and the confrontation that I’d tried to avoid seemed inevitable. 

As much as I pretended to be interested in the night scenery behind the window, it was impossible to ignore him any longer. Sadly, it was equally impossible to pretend that everything was ok and the idea that we could resolve it soon seemed pretty absurd. He was still in his stage outfit, bare chest in full display, absentmindedly scratching the skin right below his left nipple. Much to my dismay, he smelled divine, too. Warm and musky from the exertion, still with a faint hint of vanilla and cedar. AND he was obviously completely clueless. 

“You know Josh, you make it really hard sometimes...” 

Well, shit. I realized what I just did even before I finished the sentence. The instant smirk on his face told me that it was a really bad word choice and I regretted it immediately. I really wished that he would take it seriously this time. But he was still exhilarated and unnaturally restless, even to his standards. He literally couldn’t sit still, fidgeting in his seat, rapping his knuckles on a windowsill, giggling at nothing in particular…and I’d swear I even heard a moan when the car accidentally hit a curb. If I didn’t know him, I would say that he was high, but I knew he would never do that while performing. 

“Yeah, I often do, don’t I darling.” He turned to me and pouted playfully, his chin resting on his fist. “...but you’re never quiet when that happens, so why don’t you tell me what’s bugging you.” He was looking at me now, the lower lip between his teeth again, eyelids half closed. Cheeky bastard. 

What I really meant was – and he just proved my point again, by the way – that it was hard to keep the conversation serious when he was like that. And he was like that most of the fucking time. Everyone loved him for it, and that was the problem, because he just didn’t hesitate to love them all back. Not only was this his nature, but what is more, he was required to do that. A people pleaser, an entertainer…I was no longer pleased, nor entertained, though. 

I knew what I signed up for when we started seeing each other. Granted, I didn’t know who he was – or what he was – when we first met in that rally more than three years ago. He was just a beautiful boy with the eyes of a winking doll and a golden halo bouncing around his head. In a crowd of other nameless, faceless and anonymous people, he exuded blinding light. Am I too sentimental? If you were there, you’d surely understand. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. After staring at him for at least fifteen minutes, I dared to lift my camera up to take a picture just as the wind blew a few disheveled locks into his face. He immediately noticed. His brows furrowed and his eyes squinted at me, but they were warm and I could tell he was smiling behind his mask, even though apprehensively. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “Why did you do that?” If I had thought that it couldn’t get any worse, I was sorely mistaken. The sultry voice that came from behind that black piece of cloth didn’t match his overall appearance. It made my dick twitch though, and I had to hear it again, so I decided to come clear about it, because he was already turning away again, not really interested in my answer. As if having his pictures taken was something that happened everyday. Yeah, as if. But…

Believe it or not, I just told him I thought he was beautiful. Right there on that street. I don’t normally do shit like that. To this day, I still don’t understand what got into me. It was blunt and impudent and no doubt a bit weird, and I expected him to tell me to fuck off. 

But instead, he blushed. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” 

I wasn’t sure if it was genuine or if he was just playing along. Or even mocking me. But I had to seize the opportunity by the hair. “I’m Tom.” What else to say, right?

“Josh.”

That’s it. That’s how Tom met Josh. We talked a lot that day. He was cute and funny and I just couldn’t get enough of that voice, which is never a good sign. You shouldn’t let yourself get addicted to people. It’s dangerous and he was very addictive. Later that day, when we left the crowd behind and he put the mask down to reveal his full, rosy lips, I should have run. But I didn’t. I let him use those lips to chain me to him just as they enveloped my dick.

Since then, there was not one single day when I wouldn’t think about that mouth. It only got worse when that sleepy pout became the first thing I saw almost every time I opened my eyes in the morning during that summer. Our relationship started as a strictly sexual one, not because we wanted it that way, but simply because arousal and excitement came first, and there was nothing else to do. We skipped dating and dived head first in the sheets. The world had slowed down, the future looked hazy, and we were just bored. OK, I admit, I was bored. His life wasn’t boring at all. Not even then. I got sucked into it pretty soon (pun absolutely intended). He made me fall for him before we even realized what was happening, and it was brutally intense. And it was also mutual. 

I soon learned what it really meant to be part of that world. Our secret summer of love ended and reality hit. I went completely offline, partly because I was not interested in being hunted down by hysterical chicks, but mostly because he didn’t want them to know. You know what I mean. I didn’t really care that much myself, but I also understood. 

If you’re into traveling, and if you ever followed @tomontheroad on Instagram and wondered why it just vanished one day, wonder no more. Yes, it was me. You probably didn’t even notice though, because in late 2020, it had already been dead for months anyway. 

That’s just how it was. To keep the life we shared safe, I became an invisible nobody, which made it almost impossible for me to do my job, but I somehow managed. Meanwhile, he was there in the spotlight, adored by thousands, making their pussies and dreams wet. I was never to be seen. I agreed to all that, gladly, even though it was gradually getting worse. They started touring again, and that was when I saw his full potential, wrapped in velvet. He was their Pied Piper, playing his flute just as he played his vocals. I still didn’t mind. It was all worth it. I thought it was, at least. As soon as we closed the doors behind us, a brand new universe opened before me. Behind the closed doors, I was a traveler again, a tireless explorer. Every inch and every curve of his body was a land full of miracles and pleasures. A wondrous landscape. Every valley, a new home for me. Every peak, a place that revealed brand new horizons. Who needed tropical white sands when his warm skin was the perfect place to lay your head, the sound of his heart more calming than the humming of sea waves. I simply loved him. 

I learned to live with the fact that I had a boyfriend that hundreds of people wanted to fuck, but it was me who actually did. They were mere voyeurs, standing outside the shopping window, ogling hungrily all the delicious desserts on display, which only I had the privilege to taste. I kept telling myself that I was the lucky one. 

And you know what? That’s complete and utter bullshit. I keep doing this to myself. Lying to myself. I hadn’t learned to live with it at all. Granted, we had these conversations before, and all of them ended with me telling him it was fine. Everything was fine. I spent nearly two fucking years trying to convince myself that I was completely ok with all of this and just this evening I realized how much it was really bothering me. 

Today he crossed the fucking line. The feeling that lurked somewhere in the back of my mind now reared its ugly head and I felt like I reached my limits. 

I said I was there for the show. I actually never really get to see it, because I myself can’t be seen. It had been months since I last watched their concert and this past week I just waited for him in the green room. But tonight he insisted that I be there. I finally agreed, even though it really meant just lurking by the side, under the stage level with the staff, watching what was going on onstage on the monitor with Steve who’s in charge of big screens. 

The camera loved him. And he loved it back, losing himself in the moment as he got high on the music they made. The audience was losing it too, screaming in frenzy because he made them feral. It all looked just like one big orgy. I had seen it many times before, that’s why I didn’t really want to be there, but I still couldn’t get my eyes off that screen. I was very familiar with all those faces he made. I had heard those moans before, I had watched him arch his back just like that before, the way he bit his lip, how his brows furrowed… I could tell he got bolder with it over time. I was mesmerized, but there was one big problem. The whole arena was watching this with me now, equally enchanted, but he was interacting with them and I felt unwelcome. I had seen some pictures, watched two or three shorts, but nothing could prepare me for this. 

He ran down the stage a few times that evening, waved at me the first time, blew me a kiss a moment later, but as the evening progressed, I suddenly felt like losing him. It was an unwelcome surge of panic and just when I thought I got it under control, he ran past me and the next thing I saw on the screen was him right at the barricade, letting himself be hugged and groped by all those random people. I had enough. I couldn’t breathe. I excused myself and ran to the green room to pour myself a generous amount of whiskey. 

Fast forward back to where we were, in the car on our way back to the hotel. “Not here,” I retorted. “Later.” The rest of the ride was tense. He kept looking sideways at me, I kept being extremely absorbed in examining the hem of my shirt. As soon as the door of our shared apartment closed behind us, he confronted me. 

“So, we’re here. Care to explain why you’ve been behaving like such an insufferable bitch tonight?”

“Oh that’s rich, Joshua. By all means feel free to make it aaaall about my behavior again. Nothing wrong with you acting like an insolent and inconsiderate slut!” 

“Inconsiderate…” He looked as if I just punched him. 

“Yes!” I hissed, “inconsiderate! You know, it’s funny how you find this worth reacting…but not the fact that I just called you a slut.”

He just laughed and shook his head in disbelief as he headed straight to the minibar to pour  himself a drink. “Well,” he trilled, “you didn’t shake the bitch allegations either, my love. At least I’m fun to be around.” 

I just huffed and went towards the balcony to open the glass door. I really needed some fresh air. “Yeah, I’m not amused. But you don’t seem to mind. You were having a really good time there, with their hideous, overlong nails scratching your tits. Or when you were moaning into the microphone, almost pretending that you were fucking them all.” With that, I collapsed on the couch. 

“So what do you want me to do to amuse you? You want me to fuck you? Let’s fuck in earnest, no pretending.  Will that make it better? Do you want me to show you what and who I’m REALLY thinking about when their nails scratch my skin?”

“No Josh, you fucking me wouldn’t really sort out anything I’m afraid, because right now I feel like you’re fucking with me all the fucking time. I want to claim you, because I love the way you’re looking at me when I’m deep inside you and when you have to bite your lower lip just to stop it from quivering, you know. Not only because I really, really love that sight, but also because only then I feel like I’m the only person on your radar. And that’s what I need now.”

He watched me avidly, with his head slightly tilted and his expression almost unreadable, except for the obvious arousal that was silently flowing through his whole body, and I swear you could see it glimmering behind his pupils. I definitely could see it in his tight pants. I would lie if I said that I wasn’t aroused. Truth be told, I needed to fuck him, badly. We could continue bitching about each other’s behavior later. For now, angry fuck would do…

He put his glass down and slowly took off his sun jacket, all without breaking eye contact. It was like watching him in slow motion, when he palmed his hardening dick through the white satin, squeezed it briefly and then stroked it gently a few times. He loved this. He was a born entertainer, always ready to please the audience. I couldn’t help but admire the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing. I was his audience now, and I had to admit to myself that this was a completely different show. 

“Ok, that’s convenient, because I’d really love you to finish what I started.” 

I had no clue what he was talking about and watched him – flabbergasted – as he turned around, pulled his pants down and bent over to unfasten the cuffs around his ankles. That’s when I saw it. A little sparkly gem between his buttcheeks. I recognised the tiny steel buttplug with a faceted stone immediately, even though we hadn’t used it much. I gave it to him for Christmas, and later he joked that it really fit the Starcatcher aesthetics, so maybe he should wear it with the rest of his jewelry, but I didn’t really expect him to actually do it!

“Josh…did you have it in for the whole show?” I tried to keep it cool, but the words only came out as a breathy whisper. He only chuckled and stretched like a cat to relieve his stiff muscles. He was still acting, completely naked now, exaggerating every move just to torture me. 

“No, darling. I wanted to, but they would have seen it under the jumpsuit. It’s quite tight, isn’t it. No, I put it in for es-tee-tee. Colors, gems and trim, darling. Now, let’s take a shower first. And close your mouth, or else I’ll fill it.” And with that he strutted into the bathroom without even waiting for me, shaking that tiny bejeweled ass just for the show. He knew that I would follow. He already had me in his grasp, metaphorically speaking. 

We often showered together. That was our personal habit, both at home or when I accompanied him on his travels. It was always our sweet moment of seclusion in his otherwise busy schedule. Very intimate, but not always blatantly sexual. Of course, sometimes it WAS blatantly sexual, but oftentimes we just talked a lot, kissed a lot, washed each other’s hair, just took care of each other. Just tracing my fingers down his spine was enough to help me forget about the gloomy world beyond our walls. Not to mention being inside his walls, but I digress…

I took my time. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of following him like a pet dog, so I stripped slowly, took a few more sips of my drink and walked indolently into the bathroom. Just for the show. I expected him to wait for me by the counter, but he didn’t. He was already in the shower, steam already filling the room. I slid the glass door open and started. He was standing there, right under the stream, facing the door, his eyes boring into me. He was quite a sight, too. Not having bothered with the stage makeup, the streaks of smudged eyeliner were now running down his cheeks, over the remaining rhinestones. Wet hair already flattened and pulled back. This was intentional. He was still provoking me. 

We just observed each other warily before he broke the silence and asked me nonchalantly if I could just wash his back. I gestured to him to turn around and did as he asked. I poured the vanilla-scented body wash in my hands and soaped his body with it, just like I always did. And just like he always did, he started talking about the events of the day. Some tiktok video they filmed after the soundcheck that I didn’t care about. 

His tone was completely casual, in spite of the fact that I held his balls firmly in my hand, gently massaging them with my soap-covered hand. I let my other hand travel slowly down his left buttcheek towards that little surprise he had there for me previously. 

“So tell me, Josh. Why this?” 

I watched him smile at the question. His previous restlessness suddenly made perfect sense. The whole time I was sulking and worrying about us, about his behavior and his intentions, he was just getting himself off. I took the bejeweled plug in my fingers and twisted it gently. He arched his back and moaned softly. I just loved listening to him. His lovely mouth could elicit the most delicious high-pitched whimpers. So I did it again. This time, his head landed on my shoulder, exposing his neck to me. I let my nose brush against my favorite place right under his earlobe. This was dangerous territory. Everytime I let myself wander through the smooth valleys of his lithe body, I was close to losing my mind, and he knew it. He was narcotic. Normally, it just meant that earth-shattering sex would follow, but I needed to stay focused, because I had to resolve this first: “Fucking tell me, Josh,” I hissed.

“I…I like to keep myself perked up, my love. I can’t go onstage…oh, yes, thee-e-e-ere…I can’t go onstage drunk, or high…dammit…that would, aaah would be unprofessional, yeah?” He chuckled.  “So I just keep myself turned-on instead. It’s good for the show.”

“For the show, eh? You’re a liar.”

“No…no-ah, I’m not lying, dear. I keep myself turned on…and when I feel the rhythm in my bones and when I let the… the melody soar through my veins, I imagine your dick inside me. Or your fingers. Aaaall because they lo-oooh-love seeing me like that. So you see, it’s good for the show. They can feel it. Our love. Just…genuine…love. The feeling is omnipresent…and I want to share it.”

The insolence! “You see Josh, that’s the problem,” I whispered while my teeth grazed his jugular, “I don’t want to share it.”

With that, he turned around and kissed me gently, letting the tip of his tongue just brush against mine. With his left hand stroking the nape of my neck, his right palm slowly wandered down my torso, fingertips lightly grazing my left nipple, and further down, until he had me in his grasp, now literally speaking. I fell under his spell again, utterly and completely, and I no longer wanted to fight it. I had to remind myself that tonight was supposed to be my night, that I was supposed to be in control, but I was slowly losing it anyway. He sensed it, and generously put me back on track, while still jerking me off. 

“Honey, this is us. This is just us. I share the miracle, you see? That’s my job. But you don’t share me with anyone. You own me!” 

Oh yeah, that worked. His words felt like a detonator. Perhaps more than he had intended them to. I’m sure they were partly meant to soothe me, but something really snapped in me and all those pent-up emotions suddenly begged to be released. I lost all my remaining mental clarity and acted upon it without really thinking. I pushed him against the wall and firmly wrapped my hand around his throat. His head hit the tiles with a dull thud and even though my own actions took me by surprise and I saw a brief flicker of panic in his eyes, I couldn’t stop. I kept him pinned to the wall with my thigh pushing his legs apart. He belonged to me, and I needed him to understand it.

I’m not the world’s strongest man, but I’m bigger than him. Three inches taller, and I could overpower him without much difficulty. That’s why I had always been rather gentle with him, even though he’s a hotheaded bastard and always fights back like a mad chihuahua. Not this time. He just watched me with those doe-like eyes and his mouth slightly ajar, while his hands just rested on my chest. I barely felt the touch. He was a meek lamb, a rag doll, but his face told me a different story. I could see his previously bewildered expression transform into a defiant one. He tilted his chin up, nostrils flared. He was daring me, breathing heavily and waiting for my next move.  

“Damn right I do! Fuck, you’re mine,” I growled and tightened my grip on his neck, while my other hand kneaded his left buttock.  

He whimpered and I recognized the sound. I’d heard it many times before. Everytime I pounded into him with feral force, when I pulled his hair, or when I smacked his ass, because that was the only part of his body I ever dared to leave a mark on. 

“You like this, you little fucker.”

He closed his eyes, breathing raggedly through his nose. I could feel his semi spring up and twitch against my thigh. I could tell just by his fingertips now clawing at my chest that he really did. But I needed to hear it. 

“Answer me!” 

“Yeah,” he finally breathed out and our eyes met again. 

We were both very sensual people, but never overly violent with each other. It’s not that the idea never crossed my mind, because I really like rough fuck. Sue me. I’d had my fair share of “tough love” during the time spent with my previous lovers. Truth be told, he was often pushing my buttons, and it took all my willpower not to act. All smiles and sunshine on the outside, he could be an insufferable brat sometimes. I just always had to remind myself that I couldn’t leave a mark, even though his own nails frequently branded me with scratches. But that was it. It was part of the deal. I treated him like my pampered darling, even at times when I just had to shut him up with a gag… some occassional BD sans SM, that’s how we rolled. It just occurred to me that treating him like that might have been a mistake. I just had to make sure that he was really agreeing to this.

I let go of his neck and let my fingers travel up his jaw and into his wet hair, all without breaking eye contact. We were watching each other intently, trying to communicate without words, searching for clues. I cradled his head in my hands, my fingers massaging the back of his head. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. 

“Does it hurt?” 

He shook his head silently. I placed a trail of short kisses up his neck until I reached his earlobe and nibbled on it gently. I felt him pull me closer to him as he pressed his fingertips convulsively into the flesh on my hips until it almost hurt.

“Are you ok?” I whispered in his ear. He nodded and rubbed his nose against my cheek. A brief moment of tenderness was exactly what we both needed to reassess our position. Now it was the time to remind him of his role…

“Fine, on your knees!” I pushed him down, perhaps with not enough force, because it did not wipe that defiant look off his face, but I was well aware of the fact that he also still had that thing deep inside him. I was pumped, but not reckless. He was now kneeling right under the shower stream, small rivulets of water running down his face as he looked up at me, blinking. I had to take a deep breath not to cum just from the sight.  

“Open your mouth.”

…and he didn’t. Because he knew. That dastardly sneer of his is going to be the end of me one day, but I usually tolerate it. Not only because it’s hot as fuck, but also because it tells me he knows what I need. Or better yet, what he makes me need…and crave. I certainly hadn’t known that I needed my head to be treated like a lollypop until he taught me it was what I craved. Parting his lips ever so slightly, it just rested on them until he darted his tongue out into the slit, savoring every little drop of my precum. He had this habit of looking up at me when he was doing this, because he knew it was driving me crazy. 

So that’s what he was doing. Licking at my glans, watching me, daringly. I wasn’t having it. Enough of this game. I grabbed his head and buried my cock in the back of his throat. He gagged on it violently, darting his head backwards. I was still holding his head in both of my hands, though, and pushed him back, fucking his mouth in ferocious speed until he tapped on my thigh. Only then I released my grasp, watching him gasp for air. He looked up at me again, and whispered: “More.” 

And more he got. Oh god, that was so sexy, him literally begging me to choke him with my dick. I adjusted my pace, sliding in and out of those full, swollen lips. Grabbing my butt with both his hands, he urged me to go deeper, to fill him up, to obstruct his airway passage again. He tried to relax, letting my cock glide smoothly on his velvet tongue. I was getting close, dangerously close, but I wasn’t done with him yet. His mouth was perfect, but I needed more. 

Before I stopped, I grabbed him by the nape of his neck, pushed him down my shaft and held him there for a while, until I felt his throat contract and his body convulsed. Another gag, another gasp. I let go and tilted his chin up lightly with my index finger. The running water quickly washed away the thick strings of saliva and the tears, but he still looked a mess, exhausted and tamed. He was also very hard, his eyes not the only thing looking at me. He loved this. A wave of tenderness washed over me again. Damn, it was always like this with him. A real rollercoaster of feelings. 

“Come here, my filthy princess.” 

I grabbed him by the arms, pushed him up on his feet again and pulled him into a tight embrace. I felt his chest rise and fall against mine, deep breaths interspersed with intermittent, barely audible chuckles. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Not funny, just…exhilarating.” 

My good boy. He deserved a reward. I bowed down and ran a few circles around his hardened nipple with the tip of my tongue, because he loved that. You might think I’m too soft, but this is what makes the experience really intense. I was still pissed, and full of adrenaline, but it was all because I loved him so much, and I needed him to feel it all. I ran my fingers down his spine, scratching his skin with my nails, perhaps more than necessary. But it was necessary. With the actual words still stuck in my throat, the touch was my language now. He looked at me again with a sweet smile, the tip of his tongue grazing his upper lip.

“So…now that it’s settled and I promise to be good, are you going to do that thing, darling?”

“That thing” meant me sucking his dick with my fingers knuckles deep in his ass. “Yeah, baby, you’ve earned it,” I stroked his cheek with my right hand while the left one traveled down right between his asscheeks...”let’s pull this out, then?” He nodded and turned around, resting his elbows against the tiles. It was my turn to get down on my knees. Yeah, I hear you, not very dominant of me, but you need to understand that this man has got the most fabulous ass I’ve ever seen, and I swear I’m gonna kiss and bite and spread and lick it any time I get the opportunity to do so. 

I put some shower gel on my fingers and circled them around the plug. “Try to relax.”

“I know,” he spat impatiently through his teeth. That earned him a smack on his right buttock. Brat. I pulled the plug out gently, eliciting a long, breathy and relieved moan from him. I massaged the opening a bit, washing the rest of the soap out, before I grabbed him with both hands to spread him a bit more for me. What a glorious view. I buried my face in it and darted my tongue out. 

“Oh god,” he breathed out as I licked into him. 

The flowing water was starting to get on my nerves so I turned it off before I turned him around to face me. It was now my turn to taste his leaking tip. A few swift cat licks made him clutch at my shoulders tight and he almost lost his balance when I swallowed him whole. I reached behind him and gently pushed my middle finger inside him while my head bobbed up and down his dick. I pushed my finger deeper, curled it towards me and set a steady rhythm of my movements. 

His breath suddenly quickened and I could feel him pulsate on my tongue. It was a matter of mere seconds. No. I stopped, retreated abruptly and stood up. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull and he was gaping at me in disbelief. I just smiled at him maliciously. He thought he could play with me, so let’s make this a shared experience. 

“What the hell?!?” My plan worked perfectly. He practically shouted it at me. He was furious. Cute. 

“I haven’t come yet, so what on earth made you think that I would let YOU, “ I smirked.

“Fuck you!” he pushed me aside forcefully and stormed out of the shower, heading back into the bedroom. Dripping wet, he slipped on the floor and almost fell, which gave me more time to react. 

I ran after him. “Hey, where the fuck are yo…ouch!” The fucker slammed the bathroom door right in my face. I threw it open again with force, triyng to catch him. He was just by the bed when I reached out for his hair and yanked him back, making his back collide with my chest. “Ouch, that hurt, you bastard!” he yelled as he tried to break free from my grasp, squirming, but he stood no chance. 

“Do you want me to stop?” I hissed in his ear. 

“No…” Good. I pushed him face down on the bed, grabbed his wrists and held them firmly behind his back. I needed him to stay that way, so I searched the ground for something I could use. My eyes spotted a bathrobe that I tossed over the armchair earlier that day. Perfect. “Don’t move!” I got off him for a while to get what I needed. He looked over his shoulder, watching me as I pulled the belt out of the loops. He didn’t move, lying face down by the edge of the bed, ass up. My obedient baby.

I grabbed his wrists again and showed him the belt, making it obvious what I was going to do. “You ok with this?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” 

I nodded, tied his wrists behind his back and went searching for the lube. “I’m going to fuck you now, and I’m not going to be gentle about it. If it becomes too much, or you just want me to stop, just say stop. Do you understand?

“Yes.” 

“Fine. Oh, here it is.” I squeezed a generous amount of the lube on my fingers and put two of them to his asshole, rubbing it in circles before I pushed them in slowly. He was already almost ready from before, but I needed him to relax a bit more. “Now listen, I will let you cum this time. No monkey business. But I want the same from you. If you wanna cum, you’re going to behave. You’re going to beg for it. Understand?” I added a third finger and he whimpered and bit his lip, huffing. I was getting impatient. “Do-you-under-stand!?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “yes, I understand. Fuck me please. I’ll behave.”

I withdrew, slapped his butt, rubbed the remaining lube all over my cock, positioned myself and… pushed in. I had to focus all of my self-control on not pushing all the way in. He was so tight and warm and inviting, and I was all worked-up. The whole situation was a bit overwhelming, to be honest, but I just couldn’t get enough of it at the same time. His quick and shallow breaths told me that he felt pretty much the same. After several languid thrusts during which we both somehow managed to regain our composure and I quickened my pace. I grabbed his bound wrists in one hand and held his head down with the other. The room was filled with our synched moans and the slapping sound of our flesh colliding. I couldn’t get enough of him.

I grabbed his ass and slammed into him with full force. He cried out and begged me for more. His profile was absolutely entrancing, eyes squeezed shut and his mouth wide open, his melodic whines in sync with my thrusts. I needed to see more of it, so I unbound his wrists, pulled out and turned him over. 

I grabbed his ankles instead and forced his legs up, before I buried myself in him again. My heart was beating wildly. I felt the poisonous cocktail of all the previously suppressed and boiling emotions fill my veins as the pleasure overcame my senses. “Look at me!” He watched me, bewildered, while I rammed into him, sweaty and almost out of breath. Suddenly all I could hear were my own labored grunts, while he just stared at me, wide-eyed and speechless. 

“Cat got your tongue, hm? Always so…eloquent…with…them all…but not one…spare word…for your dirty little secret!” 

Adrenaline running in my veins, I continued pounding into him and almost missed the sudden shift in his mood and movements. 

“Tom…”

It was barely a whisper at first, but soon he became more and more agitated. “Tom…Tom, please. TOM! Hold on…stop…”

His face twisted in clear discomfort and his hands were clawing at my chest. I pulled out carefully. “What happened Josh? Did I hurt you?”

“No…no, m’fine. S’just a bit overwhelming, is all,” he mumbled. “Can you kiss me?”

I let his legs slide down my shoulders, leaned down and softly brushed my lips with his. I was confused, but also desperate to make this better, whatever it was. I stroked his cheek with my thumb and tried to make him look at me, but his eyes scanned the ceiling erratically and he blinked several times as he obviously tried to fight back the tears. But I could see that his eyes were already red. Now it was my turn to start panicking. Was he afraid of me? “Josh! Josh, honey, please, look at me. Are you hurt?” He shook his head and sobbed. Then his eyes finally met mine: “No, I’m alright. It’s just…please, don’t hate me Tom. I can’t stand you hating me. I was just trying to protect you.” 

The realization that hit him a minute ago now backfired back to me. And just like that my heart shattered into millions of microscopic pieces. I searched his face for more answers, those big, tearful eyes staring back at me. I stroked his hair tentatively. All the previous tension and anger dissolved and he was my sunshine boy again, but these were mere pale winter beams, and it was my fault, and the realization chilled me to my bones. He was weeping silently under me, obscured by my clouds. 

I moved slowly from between his legs and pulled him up into my embrace. He was reluctant at first, but slowly wrapped his arms around me. We just sat there for a while, cradling each other.  “I could never…,” I whispered against the damp skin right above his collarbone. “I’m just a terrible, jealous guy.”

“No, I made you jealous. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t realize…”

He couldn’t have. He’s the one who always lets his feelings pour out of him. I’ve always struggled with this. Not that I didn’t want to tell what was bothering me, I just couldn’t translate the whirlwind of my thoughts into coherent sentences. Just tell me what’s wrong, Tom. My previous lovers often lost patience with me. They always thought I didn’t want to talk and then our arguments ended with them giving up on me. Not him. He tried to make me laugh, he tried to make me yell, he tried to seduce me and he let me take all of him. I held him tight. I couldn’t let go. I was on the verge of tears, but it was him who needed comfort. I just hoped that I could give it to him. It was him who finally broke the silence. 

“Tom…” It was barely a whisper. 

“Yes?”

“I just hope you know I love you.” 

I finally loosened the embrace to look at him. My mouth was dry and my throat felt constricted, but I somehow managed to force out at least a weak “I do.” But that wasn’t enough. I knew I needed to say more: “…yes, baby, you’ve been telling me…I’m sorry,” I croaked. He took a deep breath and continued. 

“But hearing is not the same as feeling it…and,” he cleared his throat,”...and sometimes I need to feel it too. Sometimes it feels like you’re not even present. In your secret hiding place behind a thick wall and I just can’t get in!”

I buried my face in my hands. I needed a minute to process the evening’s events. “So, you seek it elsewhere?” I regretted those words almost instantly, but at least I finally forced myself to speak. 

“What do you mean? God, no!”

“No, not like that. I mean all those people, the plug. You didn’t really expl…” 

“I already told you! I wanted to share what we have.”

“By letting them touch you…”

“Cut it already!” He slapped the mattress, furious once again. “Yes, maybe you’re right…to a certain extent,” he spat out at me. “Yes, I let them touch me. I share a lot with people. It’s fulfilling and it feels natural. But it’s a different kind of love. And they understand. They didn’t grab at me, no one tried to pull me in. I share a lot with them but I don’t belong to them. But I agree with you that it's very personal. I thought about doing that for quite a while, but couldn’t find the courage to do so…unless I felt you there with me. I do miss you there. Sometimes I just miss you… anyway, about the plug…I guess today felt like a perfect day to try it. Please just tell me you understand, because I’m getting really sick of this.”

The plug was a gift from me, so yeah, I understood…kind of. Touch is important to him. But... “But why today?”

“Oh Tom,” he was tearful again. “Oh, fuck you. Really. It’s exactly three years since the day you first told me that you loved me.”

I just stared at him for a while, speechless. Then I finally lost it and started crying. “I’m a terrible person.” I felt like shit, I treated him like shit and really deserved to get a taste of my own medicine, in one way or another. But Josh is not like that. He doesn’t do that. And so it was now his turn to hug me, even though I tried to back away at first. But he’s stubborn, too. “You know, Tom, I felt it today. Among other things…”

“Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive. I understand.”

“No, you don’t... Listen Josh, I don’t need you to protect me. If anything, it should be the other way round. But I do need to feel like I belong in your life. I…I’m not sure I could continue like this.” 

Here, I finally said that. I had been afraid to utter those words aloud, because I knew they were dangerous. I expected another argument to follow, and maybe it would be the last one this time. But he only sighed and I felt him nod lightly against my shoulder. “I guess we need to make some inevitable changes then.”

I knew what he meant, but this was not just about me. And it was not just me who he’d been trying to protect. Himself, too, but also others in a way…

“Are you ready to make those changes?”

“I guess so…” 

We looked each other in the eye once more, trying to communicate the rest. At last I stood up and offered him my hand. “Come on, let me fix you a nice, hot bath.”

“No.” He took it but didn’t move. Instead, he tried to pull me back to bed. 

“No?” “No Tom, come back here, please. Make love to me.” 

He was sooo good at playing with my heartstrings. He really wanted me. He still trusted me. And from the look on his face, he needed me. I climbed back to him, took his face in my hands and kissed it. I traced my parted lips across his cheek and down to his jaw. He was like the oxygen I needed in order to stay alive and I was breathing him in. I continued upwards until our lips finally locked together. It was the first genuine kiss we shared that evening. 

How…?

“Spoon me.” As he lay down, I retrieved the previously discarded tube from the floor, lubed my fingers and cock once again and snuggled behind him. I didn’t rush it, and repeated the process once more that evening. I was nothing but tender this time, but he thought otherwise. He took my hand that was stroking his bare chest, placed it on his neck and tilted his head back. “Choke me.”

“Josh, I…you…” “Shhh, just do it. Please.” And I did. I wrapped my fingers around his throat and pulled him firmly back towards me. It wasn’t harsh. He let himself be completely vulnerable with me and I wanted to cherish it. I just rested my hand there, holding him firmly, but not with too much pressure. I could feel his pulse beating against my palm, every intake of breath. This was different than before. A moment of raw intimacy. He arched his back and reached behind to grab the back of my head. He knows I like that. I rewarded him with slow and deep thrusts, just how he loves it. He was moaning melodically to the rhythm, singing a secret song just for me now, and we rocked in tandem slowly, meeting each other halfway. Nothing else was necessary, this was everything. 

I took control again soon. Quickening my pace, I thrusted into him with a frantic urge. Goosebumps appeared all over his skin, which told me that he was very close. He always got shivers when he was approaching orgasm while I fucked him. Almost as if he was feverish. “Maddening ecstasy” – those were his words with which he once described it. I could feel him tense and tighten around me and rolled my hips once more to hit that perfect spot. “Oh my ggggnnnh Toooooohmmm….,” he let out a high pitched scream and came hard, his whole body convulsing. 

He was literally sobbing. I slowed my movements to a near stop and held his shivering body tight in my arms, waiting for his breathing to slow down. I was just about to pull out when he started moving again against me, urging me to continue, but I grabbed his hip and made him stop. He looked up at me, frowning. “What?” “Are you sure? It’s been a long night…” “No, Tom, don’t worry…come on, go on.”

I moved again tentatively, looking for any clue of his discomfort. He encouraged me again and I gradually resumed my pace. It didn’t take long. With a final groan, I buried my face in his hair, holding his now almost limp and exhausted body pressed to mine while I threshed about in an almost comical way, keeping him swaying in unison with me. We shifted a bit so that he was lying  on his belly now, me hovering above him. With the last few erratic thrusts I filled him up and we finally collapsed together into the pillows. 

We barely moved for at least another ten minutes, limbs still intertwined, eyes closed and our torsos literally glued together with sweat. Both of us simply wanted to prolong the moment, but I was slowly becoming aware of the world around us. We had left the glass door leading to the balcony open and the evening breeze finally pulled us back to reality. 

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“I think a few people might have overheard us.” “Uh huh…ok…good.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Love sticks, sweat drips Break the lock if it don't fit A kick in the teeth is good for some A kiss with a fist is better than none (Florence and the Machine)

@writingcold @edgingthedarkness @its-interesting-van-kleep @thewritingbeforesunrise @lvnterninthenight @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @takenbythemadness @fleet-of-fiction

[silver-grasp]

Narrative Power in Arda

An embarrassing number of months ago, I alluded to narrative as an in-universe force within the Silmarillion in my tags on a post I have since lost, which I feel merits further elaboration. The short version is that crafting a story carries meaningful weight and power in Arda, which is not much of a reach considering that 1) telling a story in a certain way has power even in the real world, and 2) music is already well-established as an important medium and means of magic in Middle Earth. I think it is relevant to consider this aspect when discussing the nature and weight of words in the Silmarillion, whether it be curses, dooms, oaths, or anything else.

To begin with, it is difficult to tease apart what I will call in-universe narrative from narrative in the sense that a guy called Tolkien wrote this whole story down, on purpose, with various story arcs that come to various narratively satisfying conclusions. The best illustrative example of in-universe narrative, thus, is Finrod’s duel in song against Sauron, because Tolkien could have had the song battle work however he wanted, but he chose to make it about storytelling. We joke about Finrod and Sauron’s rap battle, but their contest really is a battle of narratives – particularly cultural narratives. To quote:

Then sudden Felagund there swaying Sang in answer a song of staying, Resisting, battling against power, Of secrets kept, strength like a tower, And trust unbroken, freedom, escape; […] And all the magic and might be brought Of Elvenesse into his words. […] The sighing of the sea beyond, Beyond the western world on sand, On sand of pearls in Elvenland.

This is arguably the story of the Noldor, as told by Finrod – all the beauty and power of Aman, but brought by the Noldor to Middle Earth in their flight to escape the control of the Valar and avenge their king against Morgoth’s evil. This is his choice of story to wield against Sauron, and it makes sense. It invokes the Noldor’s heroism against Morgoth in maintaining the long siege, as well as their rejection of all the higher powers and his own faithfulness to his oath to Barahir that led him to this point. It’s a good story, but Sauron shatters it with a single invocation, because this narrative Finrod spins of the Flight of the Noldor cannot accommodate the atrocity that was the Kinslaying at Alqualonde.

The outcome of the song battle is not decided based on raw power, or skill in crafting magic or spells, or even singing ability. It is won on the merits of narrative: Finrod’s story doesn’t work; he cannot narratively reconcile the reality of the Kinslaying with “trust unbroken, freedom, escape,” and thus Sauron has the victory (1). Thus, we can conclude that “does the story work” is a legitimate part of how magic functions in Middle Earth.

This should not come as a surprise; Middle Earth (and the world itself) were created/predicted by the Music of the Ainur, which is itself a narrative work of music. It, arguably, puts the story in history (2). The narrative of the Ainulindale, moreover, is disrupted by Morgoth in much the same way Sauron disrupts Finrod’s narrative in their contest. But whereas Finrod’s story collapses under the contradictions introduced by Sauron, Eru incorporates Morgoth’s discord into the Music to create a new, greater theme than the one before. This is not an accident, and it shows that Eru, as God and Creator (read: Author), understands narrative better than Morgoth does: any good story has conflict of one sort or another. That’s what makes them stories, rather than a pleasant but boring account of a series of pleasant but boring events.

This is to say, Tolkien makes the necessity of having a plot arc into part of his theological worldbuilding. There is, frankly, a lot you could say about that, but I am not going to, because it is somewhat off-topic from the point I’m trying to make and also I really don’t know where to begin.

Additionally, while Finrod’s own narrative fails, the overall narrative of Middle Earth picks up where he left off and turns his defeat into a fourth-act crisis point, the abyss which makes way for Luthien’s subsequent victory over both Sauron and Morgoth and triumphant retrieval of the Silmaril. Finrod may not have known how to turn Sauron’s narrative disruption to his own ends, but Eru does.

Returning to the Doom of the Noldor, while Manwe is said to be the closest of the Valar to Eru in thought, I would argue that Namo, as the Vala of fate, is the closest of the God-as-Author aspect of Eru. His domain, fate, is closely linked with the Music. I said earlier that Middle Earth was created/predicted by the Music, and that blurriness between creation and prophecy is important for understanding the nature of Fate in Tolkien’s work - there is a careful tightrope walked between free will and determinism (3). I argue that the Music additionally suggests that fate in Arda is really Narrative at work.

So where does that leave, for instance, the Doom of the Noldor? Is it curse or prophecy? Punishment meted out by the gods or natural consequences of an unprecedented violent attack? Framing it in these binaries is reductive no matter which side you come down on. The Doom is neither a curse nor a prophecy: it is a narrative.

The soon-to-be Exiles, led by Feanor, kick off their narrative in maybe the worst way possible (murder). This is, objectively, a very bad inciting incident – stories that start with murder don’t tend to turn out well for the people doing the murdering. Within the Music, and the fabric of Arda’s fate, the Noldor have narrowed their narrative options significantly. “Slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be,” for have they not already slain their own kin? But it is very difficult to argue for the Doom as purely prophetic. The text itself indicates in multiple places the judgment or wrath of the Valar as something laid upon the house of Feanor and all who follow them, not simply natural consequences. There is a tangible weight to the Doom, and a sense after the War of Wrath that it is something that can be lifted.

Mandos says, you have chosen your story to be a tragedy by opening with a tragedy. But when this is spoken by Narrative himself, it takes on a weight greater than that of a mere prediction. The Doom defines the genre of the story that is to follow: Tears unnumbered ye shall shed. And they did.

The story, of course, is never truly over. But I’ll leave eucatastrophe for another day.

Footnotes: (1) As a side note, I am forever thinking about arrogantemu’s fic “Beyond the Western World,” in which Finrod says “I’d staked everything on an innocence I didn’t have.” Credit where credit is due for influencing my thinking on this subject.

(2) Tolkien as a linguist would undoubtedly be aware that the words come from the same root, and that other modern languages have not in fact separated the meanings of “work of fiction” and “account of real events” into separate words.

(3) To write a proper meta on this subject I would have to dig much deeper into other sources, but from my understanding fate in Tolkien’s works works very similarly to the Anglo-Saxon concept of wyrd – there’s a very interesting line in Beowulf, I believe, about how “for undaunted courage, fate spares the man it has not already marked” (paraphrased). I highly recommend reading more about it for a better understanding of fate in Middle Earth.

[leqclerc]

that is precisely why vasseur is just another binotto to me. i have yet to see the guy actually let charles fight for what he wants. and to think it will be even more difficult next year with them wanting to give lewis another title... sighs.

Imo it's still better than it was under Binotto, especially in that post-Monaco and particularly post-Silverstone stretch in 2022 where they were forced to do the whole performative "we met for lunch in Monaco so it's all good now" PR thing to paint over the increasingly apparent cracks. Binotto blatantly favoured Carlos, both on and off the track, even going as far as publicly throwing Charles under the bus by shifting the blame for a poorly executed strategy to the car having no pace when Charles explicitly called out the whack tyre strat, for example in Hungary. I don't think we've had a situation like that happen with Fred, that I can recall.

Charles has generally said positive things about Fred and reiterated that he has trust in him, that he's seen positive developments under his leadership. The SF24 is definitely an improvement over last year's car. There have been several employee changes, which people generally see as a good thing. So, all in all I think it is an improvement but it could be better, especially with stuff like team orders.

Here's how Fred addressed the situation post-race:

Stuff like that is frustrating when you remember how many times Charles has been used as a roadblock or made to create an artificial gap (their entire Singapore strategy hinged on Charles's cooperation.) Sure, this wasn't for the win, and Charles himself said qualy is bigger issue, but it's the principle of the thing. Charles drove an incredible race with that insane one stop strategy and was ahead on position (if that's what they want to use as the determining factor.) Even if he shoulders the blame for his qualy results on the weekends where he's outqualified by Carlos and accepts that CS will be the one given the preferential strategy/treatment based on that, there's been plenty of instances where Charles qualified higher but then Carlos made up the difference in the race and was hailed as a genius.

Idk it feels like part of it might be them not exactly trusting Carlos will cooperate? He's shown many times before that he's primarily in it for himself and even when he was explicitly told to do something he didn't if he felt it wasn't beneficial for him—and that was when he still had a contract with Ferrari, now that he knows he's on the way out and has the sympathy narrative on his side he has nothing to lose. But it shouldn't be solely on Charles to be the cooperative one, to put the team result first. I know he wants to feel that he's earned the podium (which, like, he has in this race) and he won't be satisfied until he's in front in qualy and the race, but yeah, frustrating to see the pattern continue into this year.

To counter the negativity somewhat, I will say I know it's still early days, there's still plenty of races to go, and if they manage to solve the qualy tyre warm-up issue (which Charles already vowed to work on on his side, and we know he always comes through) and the upgrade packages that are in the pipeline (hopefully) help close the gap to Red Bull in race pace, then we could still be in for an interesting and potentially competitive back half of the season. I just hope that situations like this don't come back to bite them when Charles is potentially in a position to fight for P2 with Checo, or maybe even P1 if Max encounters more issues down the line, but it's those points that make the difference in the end.

[fixfoxnox]

I would now like to formally request ceo ghost and soap attempting to get Roach’s attention at a corporate camping trip and failing miserably so much so that Roach’s kid sits the two adults down and goes “if you love my daddy just tell him and stop being wimps” as a drabble ok love u🥰🥰

YES MY GUILTY PLEASURE AU

Also

You: as a drabble

Me: 8,000+ words coming right up

Mini Bug (1)

Description: A weekend retreat for the company seems like the perfect time for Ghost and Soap to try to impress Roach. Unfortunately for them, the Mini Bug (Lilian Sanderson: Roach's daughter), is frightfully observant and see's right through them.

Pairings: Established SoapGhost, GhostRoachSoap

Warnings: Brief Angst (THE NARRATIVE MADE ME DO IT)

Notes: Trans! Roach (he birthed the child). Lily refers to him as "mom/mommy"

"Okay," Roach pushed his way into the roomy office, earning the attention of the two men inside. He was quick to hand each of them a small identical file folder, "That's the information on Shadow Corp. and the deal they want to make. Just sent over this morning."

He watched quietly as both of the men tilted over the front of the file folder, flipping through the pages. Soap was moving quickly, his eyes scanning everything with large sweeps. Ghost was reading slower, carefully scanning over each page.

"And?" Ghost asked lowly, "What do you think?"

"Honestly," Roach shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, "I wouldn't trust these guys as far as I can throw them. The deal seems set up perfect for them to eventually pull out and leave us with nothing. It's a trust exercise that I wouldn't participate in, no matter how much they offer."

"And their CEO?" Soap looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, "What do we think of this Graves character?"

"Philip Graves," Roach sighed deeply, "Southern accent, smug grin, looked like he dumped an entire thing of hair gell on his head before he got here." He shook his head slowly, "Miranda at the front desk said that he called her toots about six times during their two-minute conversation and when he got up here he seemed disappointed that I wasn't a hot woman in a pencil skirt."

Ghost gave a snort at his words and immediately closed the file folder. "Right, so that's a no then." Soap followed his lead and Roach gathered the folders back up from the men.

"I'll draw up an email," Roach nodded to the two, but hesitated for a moment. "Um, really quick, I was hoping I might talk to the two of you about the retreat this weekend?"

The two men turned to him, Ghost with a raised eyebrow and Soap with a bright grin. "Sure, Bug, everything alright with it?"

Roach took a moment to snap himself out of the slight haze that Soap calling him "bug" had left over his mind. He had to snap himself out of it. These were his bosses, his bosses who were married to one another. He had to get over himself. "I, well," he gave a deep sigh, "I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to come."

"What?" Soap's face fell and he and Ghost shared a quick glance with one another.

"Is something wrong?" Ghost asked carefully, "If it's about the rooms, Soap and I were talking and we could-"

"No," Roach interrupted with a shake of his head, shuffling nervously in place for a moment before explaining, "It's Lils. I had everything planned for someone to watch her this weekend, but her usual sitter broke her leg a few days ago and has to have surgery on it." He turned his gaze away from Soap and Ghost, his face tinting pink, "I've tried to find someone else to watch her, but no one else is going to be available on such short notice."

There was a moment of quiet that passed through the room before Ghost spoke simply, "Bring Lily on the retreat."

Roach looked up at him, his eyes wide at the suggestion. "But," he shook his head, "It's a work trip?"

"It's a glorified camping trip," Soap sent a look that Roach couldn't decipher toward his husband. "We aren't doing anything that a kid couldn't do, and besides, Lily likes camping doesn't she?"

"Well, yes," Roach shuffled a bit, still unsure about the idea, "But what about sleeping? I was supposed to share a room with someone, but I doubt anyone would be okay with me and Lily."

"Stay in the cabin with us," Soap sounded almost nervous and the words made Roach's eyes widen. Share a cabin with his married bosses who he was also crushing on? With his daughter there as well?

"We have an entire cabin to ourselves," Ghost rushed to explain, "Perks of being married I suppose. Point is, we have plenty of extra room."

Roach blinked at them both for several moments, absolutely dumbfounded by the turn that things had taken. He'd expected to be forced to miss the retreat, not for his bosses to invite him to bring his daughter along. They were right though, Lily loved camping and there wasn't anything inappropriate that would be happening. It just might be a little odd for others to have a little girl joining them for trust exercises.

"Are you sure?" He asked after a moment, "I really don't want to inconvenience anyone."

Ghost was quick to wave him off, "It isn't an inconvenience, Bug."

"Besides," Soap gave him another smile, "We both adore Lily, you know that. We certainly won't mind having her around."

Roach felt a sense of fondness and affection curling at him with those words. It was true, his bosses did seem to adore his daughter. They'd been more than helpful for him since they'd learned about her existence. Hell, her birthday that year had been the best she'd ever had thanks to the two men spoiling her. Soap and Ghost certainly got along with his daughter.

"Alright," he finally gave in with a hesitant smile, pulling an excited grin from Soap and a quirk of the lips from Ghost. "Thank you guys, really." He held up the manila folder again with a low chuckle, "I'd better get to work on these." He started to the door, intent on heading out to his little desk, only to pause in the doorway and turn with sharp glaring eyes to the two men behind him, "Oh, also get your lunch order in early today! I am absolutely not going back out five times just because you two were indecisive."

With that he turned and marched out of the office, hearing Soap and Ghost's amused chuckles following after him.

"Do you think that we'll see any snakes?"

Roach looked through his rearview mirror, smiling at his daughter in the back seat. She was peering out the window excitedly, watching the trees and water that they were passing. Roach had already been forced to remind her several times not to twist in her seat to try and get a better look. The only thing that had finally gotten her to settle down was the reminder that they would have plenty of time to look at everything when they arrived. "I don't know," he answered, "Do you want to see a snake?"

His daughter nodded her head rapidly, "Yeah! I bet it would make Suds scream!" She giggled to herself.

Roach shook his head at her, though an amused smile remained on his lips, "Soap," he emphasized his boss's name, "would certainly not like it if we found a snake. But if we do, we'll be good, won't we? No trying to pick it up."

His daughter whipped around to face him with a pout, "But-!"

"No buts, Lillian," Roach reminded, "Until you can properly identify the poisonous snakes on your own, no just grabbing."

"But I've almost got it," she complained. "See it's red on yellow, that's a good fellow, red on black, your dead jack!" She paused for a moment before muttering, "Or is it red on black, that's good for Jack, red on yellow, you're a dead fellow?"

"And that," Roach reminded playfully, "Is why we won't be picking up any snakes."

A fond smile pulled at his face as she crossed her arms with a huff, her brows wrinkled in a way that had Roach's heart-tugging in his chest. It was a familiar look to him. He tried to shake the feeling off as they finally pulled down the road towards the cabins. Luckily the change in scenery seemed to be enough to lift Lily's spirits again and soon she was peering out the window with a bright grin on her face.

"Mommy, I see Suds and Ghost!" She bounced in her seat excitedly, "Hurry! I want to show them my new shirt!

"Alright, alright," Roach pulled his car into one of the available spaces, a chuckle pulling from his throat. He kept the door locked, even as Lily tugged on it, "Remember the rules?" She didn't answer at first, so he waited patiently for several moments before, "Lillian, the rules?"

"Yes!" She turned to him with a pleading look, "I remember! Please!"

With those words he finally unlocked the door, allowing her to quickly push her way out of the vehicle and scramble to where Soap and Ghost were making their way toward them. Roach followed after her, lifting himself out of the vehicle and closing the door behind him. Rather than making his way toward Soap and Ghost, though, he just watched. It was a sight to see his bosses crouching down to the ground to greet his daughter with a hug and kind smiles. Lily was quick to begin excitedly talking to the two, her hands moving a mile a minute as she motioned around her to everything. Soap and Ghost were patient, listening to her with soft smiles on their faces and that adoration that he knew the two held for her in their eyes. For a moment, if he didn't know any better, he could almost imagine that the two men were Lily's fathers. He was quick to brush the thought off and move around to the back of his car to begin getting bags.

He had to keep his head on straight, but it had been getting harder and harder to do that lately. With all the time that he'd been spending around his bosses, his little crush on the two men had grown from a "little crush" to a "large all-consuming, bordering on something more crush." It was embarrassing for him. The two men were married to one another, he certainly had no chance with either of them. And yet, as he would watch them with Lily, as he would take lunches with them, as he spent more and more time with them and felt that familiar tugging at his chest, he knew that he would continue to want. He just couldn't help himself.

He already had all of the bags unloaded from the back when Soap and Ghost approached him, Lily walking between the two with her hands clasped in theirs. "Need any help with anything?" Ghost didn't even wait for a response before stepping forward to begin gathering bags in his arms. Roach noticed immediately the way that he grabbed for the biggest and heaviest-looking ones.

"It's fine," Roach chuckled, "We're only here for the weekend, we don't have much." Ghost still slung some of the bags over his shoulders, a small smile sent Roach's way as he did.

"You two will like the cabin," Soap chimed in, tugging playfully at Lily as he did, "Right on the lake."

Lily gasped in delight, "Can we swim?"

"If your mom is okay with it," Soap answered back, a wink sent in Roach's direction. "But, even if you don't swim, there's a big tub on the second floor that you can use as a pool. How's that sound?"

"Second floor?" Roach looked between Soap and Ghost with wide eyes, "How big is this cabin?"

Ghost chuckled at his shocked look, one of his hands landing on the small of his back to begin guiding him forward, "Big enough." He leaned forward to whisper to Roach, "Let us treat our favorite secretary a bit, yeah?"

A shiver went down Roach's spine at the low rumbling words. He did his best to push past it and only responded with a grumbled out, "I'm your only secretary."

He allowed himself to be led down the cracked sidewalk in front of several of the cabins, he and Ghost following closely behind Soap and Lily. Lily was still chatting animatedly, talking excitedly about how excited she was about everything for the weekend. She'd only just started telling Soap and Ghost about the last camping trip they'd been on, one they'd attended with his family on a trip back home when they finally turned to start walking up toward the front door of the largest cabin on the strip. Unlike the other cabins, this one was two stories tall and had a wrap-around porch that appeared to surround the entire building.

When they finally stepped inside the building, he was sure that his eyes were the size of saucers. The cabin was even larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. The entire living room of the cabin alone was probably about half of the size of his and Lily's apartment. "This…is really big." He paused in the center of the living room, turning in his spot to look at everything around him. He could hear Lily running around behind him, oohing and ahhing at everything in the room. "You guys rented this for the weekend?"

He turned his attention to Ghost and Soap with a raised eyebrow. He was met with a grin from Soap, "Nope." He paused for a moment before shrugging, "We just bought it."

Roach blinked at them for several moments, unsure how to respond to the words. After several moments he finally settled on a grumbled, "Rich people," before turning toward where his daughter was running around the room. "Lily! No running inside, remember?"

She immediately turned toward him, Ghost, and Soap with a big grin on her face, "Mommy, this place is so cool!" She rushed past him to wrap Ghost's leg in a hug before switching to do the same to Soap's leg, "Thank you, Mr. Ghost! Thank you Mr. Suds!"

Roach huffed and shook his head fondly, it seemed his daughter would never lose the silly nickname for Soap. Not that the man seemed to mind, a bright smile slipping across his face as he accepted her hug. "Course, kiddo." He looked up to meet Roach's gaze and shot him a wink, "We want you and your mom to have the best time you can this weekend. You wanna see your room?" Lily pulled away from him quickly after that, nodding her head rapidly up at him. "C'mon then, I'll take you up to your room and Ghost can take your mom up to his room."

Roach didn't have time to say anything before Ghost's hand was back on the small of his back and he was being slowly guided toward one of the side hallways as Lily was rushing up the stairs, Soap following after her. Roach waited until he knew that they were far enough away before whispering to Ghost, "You guys didn't have to give us separate rooms, you've already done too much."

Ghost shook his head, "We've got plenty of rooms in the cabin." He opened one of the doors closer to the end of the hall, allowing Roach to step into the large room first before he followed after him, depositing his bags by the door. "What do you think? If you want something else there are a few other ones but," He walked over to the window at the back of the room and pulled the curtains open, revealing a view of the lake behind the house, "Soap and I thought you might like the view."

Roach resisted the urge to gape as he stepped up to the window, stopping beside Ghost to look over the expanse of water that sat just outside of his room. "This is…perfect." He turned toward Ghost with wide eyes, "I seriously can't thank you and Soap enough for this. I mean letting me bring Lily is one thing, but the rooms and letting us stay with you guys? I really don't know what to say."

Ghost stepped a bit closer to him, the two almost pressed chest to chest with their proximity. Roach flushed a bit. "Soap and I wanted to do this," Ghost lifted a hand and hesitantly brushed a piece of hair from Roach's face, "You don't have to thank us for taking care of you. You don't have to thank us for doing something that we enjoy." There was a long pause and Roach, for a brief moment, was sure that Ghost had looked down to his lips. He brushed the thought off when Ghost stepped back a moment later, his own face a bit pink. He cleared his throat, "Anyway, I'll let you get settled. Soap and I are sleeping in the room next door, if you need anything. And," he cleared his throat again, "Company dinner to start the retreat tonight. Which I," he shook his head at himself, "imagine that you would know since you created the itinerary."

Roach couldn't help the chuckle that pulled from his throat at the words. He gave another grin to Ghost as the man waved to him and left the room. His eyes turned back toward the window, taking in the view in front of him again. It was breathtaking.

"Stand right next to me, okay?" Roach grabbed tight to Lily's hand, making sure that she wouldn't try to run off toward the water. He wasn't too worried about her getting in, after all, she was in her swimsuit and floaties already. He also knew how strong of a swimmer she was already. Still, this was a company retreat and their group hadn't gathered down at the water just so that his daughter could go swim. No, they'd gathered down at the water to participate in a…rather extreme trust exercise. Really it wasn't anything bad, just certainly more than what most other companies would do for a trust exercise.

"Alright," Soap clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. He was in his own swimming gear and Roach had to try to keep his eyes from tracing over the man's bare chest. It was hard to do. It was even harder when a similarly bare-chested Ghost stepped silently up next to him. Roach knew that both of the men were much stronger than they looked. He knew that at least Ghost was ex-military. But knowing and seeing were two very different things. "Today we're going to do a fun little obstacle course! Our goal is to learn to trust those around us, we want to know that the person next to us has our back and can be relied on during important times." He turned and motioned to the large inflatable water obstacle courses that they'd rented for the exercise. "We'll split off into groups of four. Everyone will be timed and everyone in the fastest group gets a $100 gift card for themselves!"

That had a bit of excited chatter running through everyone and Soap was quick to shoot Roach a thumbs up. The monetary incentives were something that Roach had suggested, just a little something to keep everyone invested in actually trying to win. The company had the money for it, more than enough money for it, so Soap and Ghost had readily agreed. "Alright everyone, split up and pick your team!"

Roach stood hesitantly, still holding tight to Lily's hand. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that he was going to be the last pick for any of the teams. They all wanted to win and he came with Lily, so whatever team picked him was going to have a bit of a disadvantage. He'd considered just asking Ghost and Soap if he could just sit the exercise out and cheer everyone on from the side, but he'd brushed that thought off. It came back now in full force and he found himself beginning to look around for where Soap and Ghost had gone to.

"Looking for someone, Bug?" Roach turned around to meet both Soap and Ghost who'd somehow snuck up on him.

"Hi, Suds! Hi, Ghost!" Lily waved at them excitedly, "Do we get to go on the big floaty thing?" She pointed excitedly to obstacle courses, her eyes wide.

Ghost gave a chuckle and glanced up carefully at Roach before responding, "We do. In fact, why don't you and your mom join Soap and I's team."

Roach was quick to chime in, "You guys don't have to do that." He waved them off, "Lily and I can just sit off to the side and cheer everyone on."

"Now why would we want that?" Soap leaned against Ghost with a grin, "We want the fastest people on our team, and," he looked down at Lily with a grin, "We hear there's a little speed demon right here to help us win."

"Yes!" Lily jumped up excitedly, "I'm super fast! I'm like the fastest swimmer in the world!" She pretended to flex for the group, pulling a small laugh from the three adults around her.

"What do you say then, Roach?" Soap turned his gaze back to Roach, the grin still on his face. "Join our team?"

"Alright," Roach agreed after a moment, an apologetic smile sent their way, "Apologies in advance if I make us lose. I'm certainly not as fast as speedy here." He playfully nudged Lily and she grinned up at him. He still felt a bit bad, but he figured that Soap and Ghost weren't exactly aiming to win anyways, so he might as well join their team with Lily to at least allow the little ball of energy he called his daughter to participate.

"Okay," Farah, who was doing the timing for their group stepped out of their way, "Get ready boys and girl, remember, the time to beat is two minutes!" She paused for a few moments, watching the small watch on her wrist before, "And…go!"

Their little group took off toward the obstacles, Lily rushing ahead of them to immediately begin climbing up the first of the obstacles, a small wall. She was moving up it quickly and Roach found himself snickering a bit as he heard Soap curse under his breath, impressed by her speed. He wasn't too surprised with how fast she was moving over this obstacle, after all, she'd always been a bit of a climber. They followed up after her, each jumping over the wall only moments after she did.

Roach made a point to pick her up as they moved to the next obstacle, helping move her to it a bit quicker because of her short legs. This one required them to slide through several inflatable holes in succession and, while Lily flew through them, when Soap tried to follow behind he caught his legs on the first hole, sending him tumbling through with a groan. Both Roach and Ghost laughed as they heard his groan from the other side and, when Roach followed through the hole after him (much more gracefully) he had a bright grin on his face. He was quick to help Soap back up to his feet as Ghost came through the hole after them.

They went through the next ones much more gracefully, though noticeably slower thanks to Soap trying not to trip again. By the time they made it through the last one, Lily was huffing and puffing waiting on them, her floaties crossed over her chest as she glared them down. "Come on! We're going to lose!"

They moved through a short little field of tubes next, forced to push them out of their way as they ran. Roach was following behind Ghost which meant that he got a perfect view of the moment when Soap released one of the tubes and it flung back to smack Ghost in the face, sending him stumbling back a bit. Roach hadn't been able to contain his laughter at that and had to grab onto Ghost's back so that he could be guided out of the field of tubes as laughter threatened to knock him to his knees. He'd still been laughing when they emerged from the tubes to see Soap already meeting them with apologies on his lips. Ghost had waved him off with a grumpy grumble and they'd moved through the next two obstacles with no issue.

"Close to the end," Roach commented as they came up to the little inflatable beams of varying sizes that they would have to jump over before moving off toward the final catwalk over to the end zone. The last part was really the only area where any of them would be able to fall into the water below. Luckily only one of them had to make it to the end of the course for their time to be considered finished. Though they would take a five-second penalty for anyone unable to make it to the end.

"This seems easy," Soap puffed up a bit, "Ghost and I can get through this quick and help you and Lils across the catwalk."

"Agreed," Ghost nodded, "Wait here, we'll go across."

Roach wanted to tell them that it wasn't necessary and that they could all go at once, but it was too late. His bosses were off, darting over the various inflatable beams quickly. Roach and Lily watched them go, Roach feeling more than a little impressed with their speed. The two were already nearing the last of the hurdles and Roach was certain that he was going to see them pop up at any second at the very end. That was until Ghost pulled ahead of Soap just slightly while moving toward the end. Roach saw the low-to-the-ground inflatable beam, but apparently, Ghost didn't as, before Roach could warn him, he was hitting it at full speed.

He immediately tumbled forward, falling flat over the last of the beams and tumbling down over the edge of the little inflatable obstacle course down into the water below. Roach started laughing at the same time as Soap, though Soap's laughter was short-lived as his distraction caused him to make the same mistake as Ghost and send himself flailing over the edge of the obstacle course and down to the water below with a splash. Roach was hunched over, his hands on his knees for support as laughter wracked his system. His eyes watered and he was sure he was going to pass out from the lack of air getting to his brain.

"Mommy!" Lily tugged at his arm as he continued laughing, "C'mon! We have to get to the end!"

Roach allowed himself to be dragged over the beams by his daughter, laughing the entire time that they moved. He barely made it over the beams and, as he and Lily came to the small catwalk, he was sure that he was going to fall over the edge to join Soap and Ghost in the water. He could see both of them floating down below, watching them. The sight only made him laugh harder.

He wasn't sure how long it took him and Lily to finally make it to the little end area, but when they did Roach's face felt delightfully warm and his cheeks hurt from how hard he was laughing. Their time was called and later, when he and Lily slid down the inflatable slide and into the water together and then made their way back to the beach to get their time, Roach couldn't be the slightest bit surprised to hear it had taken them over six minutes to complete the course.

"Sorry we didn't win," Soap handed Roach a can of cold Soda before plopping down next to him on the picnic bench he'd sat himself at. Roach was watching Lily dig under rocks for bugs, his eyes occasionally shooting over to admire the figure of Ghost prepping the grill for the burgers he'd promised to cook for everyone.

"I didn't think we would," Roach chuckled and sent a playful grin Soap's way, "If it hadn't been you and Ghost, it probably would have been me."

Soap chuckled, his face going a bit pink at the reminder of his and Ghost's tumble off of the obstacle course. "Better us than you," He leaned back against the picnic table and took a small sip from his drink, joining Roach in quietly watching Ghost and Lily. After a moment he gave a sigh and leaned a bit closer to Roach, motioning toward Ghost with a grin on his face, "You know if it was any other competition, we'd have won."

"Oh yeah?" Roach felt a small amused smile quirk up his lips.

"Oh yeah," Soap confirmed. "Ghost and I are good with a lot of things." He moved a bit closer to Roach, "Work for example. Or," his voice dropped a bit, "Our hands as another example."

Roach found himself flushing a bit at the low tone that Soap had used. He tried to shake it off, after all, there was no way that Soap was implying what he thought he was. It just wasn't possible. He cleared his throat nervously and brought his drink up to his mouth in an attempt to hide his blush, "Really?"

"Really," Soap looked him over carefully, the grin still on his face, "If you'd like, we'd be more than willing to- what the fuck!" He jerked back suddenly, his eyes going wide with panic as he lifted his feet from the ground and tucked them up on the bench, fear in his eyes. Roach trailed his eyes down quickly, amusement quickly squashing any heat in him as he spotted the little lizard on the ground that Soap was staring at.

He gave a slow chuckle and leaned down to pluck the little thing from the ground, holding it in his hands carefully, "Did he run over your foot?" He shot Soap an amused smile, chuckling at the embarrassed red color that was slowly taking over his face. Soap nodded his head slowly. "Don't worry," he gave him a small smile and held the lizard out for him to see, "They usually don't bite."

"That's comforting," Soap joked hesitantly, his eyes still wide.

Roach stood up from the bench, holding the creature carefully. He gave a slow hum as he looked around, trying to find a place to take the little thing, "Don't worry, I'll put it over in the woods so it won't bother you." He shot a wink to Soap before starting toward the treeline. "Lily, do you want to see a lizard for a few seconds?" His daughter was by his side in an instant, oohing and ahhing at the creature in his hands.

He held it for her for a few moments longer than he normally would, allowing her to gently stroke her fingers along it for a few moments. He gently transferred it into her hands and instructed her how to carefully release it onto a nearby rock. They both watched as it crawled rapidly down from the little rock Lily had placed it on and scuttled off across the forest floor. Roach waited until he'd lost sight of it to stand back up fully.

He gave a brief stretch before turning around, intent on rejoining Soap at the little picnic table they'd been sitting at. Instead, he slammed directly into a hard body. Within a moment there was cool sticky liquid soaking through his shirt and seeping onto his skin, pulling a grimace from him. He looked down at the dark-colored wet spot across his clothing.

"Shit, Roach," Alex was quick to set down the little red cup he'd been holding and grab a nearby towel, offering it to him, "I'm so sorry."

Roach waved him off, "It's okay," he gave a short chuckle, "Trust me when I say that Lily has spilled much worse on me before."

"Hey!"

"Should we talk about the bucket of paint?" He raised an eyebrow at his daughter and a sheepish look was quick to cover her face. She gave a grumble but said nothing else as she moved away from the two adults to begin hunting for bugs in the brush again. Roach shook his head at her and turned back to face Alex. He turned down the offered towel, "It's okay, I'll just run back to the cabin and change shirts," he looked down at himself with a wrinkle of his nose, "No way am I staying in this sticky thing for the rest of the day."

He stepped away from Alex and started toward the little path that would take him back to the cabin. The stickiness of his shirt pressing against his skin was getting to be a bit much for him, the feeling making his skin crawl. As he passed by where Ghost had just lit the fire for the grill, he made the decision to just go ahead and take the shirt off. There was no harm that would come from it.

He grabbed at the back of his shirt and was quick to tug it over his head, wadding the cloth up in his hands. Beside him, he could hear a quick clatter of something hitting the ground before a quick puff of warm air and a pop caught his attention. When he turned, it was to the sight of Ghost stumbling away from a large plume of fire that rose from the grill he'd just lit.

"Ghost!" He and Soap were quick to surround the taller man, both of them checking over him quickly as the fire of the grill died down. Luckily, it seemed that the man hadn't been burnt or singed, but there was a rather amusing ring of black soot around his face where the smoke from the fire had painted his skin.

Ghost seemed more dazed than anything, just blinking at Roach with wide eyes and pink dusting across his face as Roach checked him over carefully. A few others had gathered around them as well, Laswell, in particular, seemed to be anxiously awaiting whether Ghost was okay or not. Roach knew it was likely because she would be the one having to fill out the paperwork if someone got hurt on the retreat.

"Ghost," Roach carefully felt along Ghost's face, watching to see if the man winced at any particular point during the process, "Can you hear me? Are you hurting anywhere?"

Ghost shook his head slowly, still watching Roach with wide eyes. Despite the fact that he claimed to be fine, Roach was beginning to wonder if the man had a concussion or something from his fall to the ground.

"Simon," Soap's hand landed on Ghost's shoulder, his voice taking on a tone that Roach couldn't decipher. It seemed to be enough to snap Ghost out of whatever stupor he was in as his eyes quickly darted away from Roach and he started to slowly push himself from the ground. Roach tried to give him room but stayed close enough that he could rush forward to help if need be.

"I'm fine," Ghost's face had turned steadily pinker and he wouldn't meet Roach's eyes. "Sorry, I, uh, zoned out I guess. Used too much lighter fluid." He brushed himself off and leaned slightly into Soap who'd wrapped an arm around him to provide some support.

"Well," Roach nodded to him, "I'm glad you're okay, though, maybe you should let someone else work the grill?" He gave Ghost a small smile, the concern that had been written across his face slowly faded into something a bit calmer. If his heart had stopped for a brief second when he saw the fire bursting up toward Ghost, he could keep that to himself.

"I'm okay," Ghost assured, "I'll still cook, not like I really hurt myself."

Roach gave him an amused smile, "No," he agreed, "Thankfully not, but maybe you want to let someone else start it and come back to the cabin with me?"

Both Soap and Ghost's heads shot toward him, their eyes wide. "Come back to the cabin with you?" Ghost stuttered out after a moment, his face somehow going a shade pinker.

Roach raised an eyebrow at both of them, confusion filling him. It wasn't like he'd offered anything odd, so he couldn't quite understand why they both seemed so shocked by his words. "Yeah," he motioned toward Ghost's face, "To clean up all the soot and stuff you got on you?" Both Ghost and Soap seemed to deflate slightly at his words, sharing a quick glance with one another. Behind them, Alex and Farah gave quick choked-out laughs, only adding to Roach's confusion. "What did you guys think I meant?"

"Nothing," Ghost motioned forward, "You're right, I should clean up." He shot a quick glare toward Farah and Alex before marching past Roach in the direction of the cabin. Roach shot a confused glance toward Soap, but noticed that the man looked almost like a kicked puppy and wouldn't meet his gaze either.

"Right, um," he turned to look for Lily and found her already watching him closely, her little face twisted up into a look of serious contemplation that caught Roach by surprise. He didn't think he'd ever seen her look so serious before. "Lily," he caught her attention, "You stay by Soap, okay?"

She nodded her head at him, her face still twisted up, "Okay, Mommy." Roach wanted to question her sudden deep thinking, but he decided better of it and instead just started after Ghost toward the cabin.

"Mommy?" Roach stopped in the doorway to the room that Lily was staying in. He'd already tucked her in and he'd just flipped the lights off when she called his name. Quickly, he flicked it back on and turned to face her, letting her know that he was listening, "Do you like Suds and Ghost?"

Roach tilted his head at her, a small smile quirking at his lips, "Of course I do. We work together, but they're my friends too. Why do you ask?"

Lily was quiet for a moment, her eyes trailing away from Roach and up toward the ceiling. She'd been contemplative ever since the moment that Ghost had nearly lost his eyebrows to the grill. Roach had checked in with her numerous times, but every time she'd just happily told him that she was okay before going back to her contemplation. Roach had wondered briefly if she was upset that they were going home already, but he was sure that Soap and Ghost's promise to bring her back had banished that sadness from her mind.

After a long moment, she asked, "Do you like Suds and Ghost," she paused for another moment before looking at him, her eyes practically piercing through him. In that moment he could clearly notice the two different colors of her eyes, one a greyish brown and the other an all too familiar pale green. His heart squeezed tight in his chest. "Mommy, do you like Soap and Ghost like you liked Daddy?"

Roach's heart stuttered over in his chest and, for a moment, he didn't remember how to breathe. "What," his voice broke and he had to take a few moments to breathe, "What do you mean by that sweetie?"

Lily watched him for another moment and Roach had to wonder if this truly was his six-year-old daughter that he was talking to. She seemed much older than she was. She seemed to know more than he'd thought possible for her. After another long moment, she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and turned away from him. "Nevermind. Night, Mommy, love you."

She tucked herself under the covers like nothing had happened and Roach couldn't help but wonder if he'd imagined the whole thing. He stood still for a long moment, his mind running circles around itself. Finally, he reached up to turn the light in the room off. He stepped out of the room silently, pulling the door closed behind him. He stood there, his hand still on the cool metal of the doorknob.

It wasn't a question he'd been prepared for, certainly not one he'd been prepared to hear from his daughter. Now he found himself silently asking the question to himself, anxiety creeping up his shoulders as he did. He liked Soap and Ghost. But, like Lily asked, was it similar to what he'd felt before?

He didn't quite know if he was ready to face the answer to that yet.

"I can't believe I freaked out over a lizard," Soap sulked, tucking his face against Ghost's shoulder with an embarrassed groan. The whiskey glass in his hand was already half drunk. Next to him, Ghost seemed equally as downcast, his own whiskey glass already drained. He was on his second.

"At least you didn't nearly kill yourself just because he took his shirt off," He took another drink from his glass, his face feeling hot again. "Were we this useless when we were trying to get together?"

"I don't think so," Soap tucked himself closer to him on the couch, "I feel like we were braver then."

Ghost snorted, "Well, that I believe. I guess when you're getting shot at, confessing your feelings feels like nothing next to that." He sighed and tilted his head over so that his cheek was resting on the top of Soap's head, "Maybe we need to almost die again. Get some of that confidence back?"

Soap snorted and shook his head against Ghost's shoulder, "That's stupid. A terrible idea if I've ever heard one." He paused for a moment before groaning, "Though if it helps get rid of the memory of eating shit in front of him today, I might be more willing to agree to it."

"We're useless at this." Ghost sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of Soap's head.

"I agree."

Both Soap and Ghost shot up immediately. They were quick to look behind them over the couch, panic coursing through their system as they met the gaze of Lily, still in her night clothes. "Lily," Soap plastered a smile onto his face, but his eyes were quick to scan around nervously, "Where's your mom?"

"Don't panic," she marched into the room and circled around the couch until she was standing in front of both Soap and Ghost, "He's still in bed. It's just me." She crossed her arms across her chest as Soap and Ghost shared a relieved look with one another.

"And why aren't you in bed?" Ghost asked carefully, an eyebrow raised at her.

"Because we need to talk." She sounded surprisingly serious for a six-year-old and Soap and Ghost shared an amused look with one another.

"Alright," Soap sat up fully in his seat and gave her a soft smile, "What's going on, kid?"

Lily watched them for a moment before narrowing her eyes, "You two like my Mommy, don't you?"

Soap choked on his own breath, his face going a bright red. Next to him, Ghost controlled his reaction much better. "Of course, we like your mom, Lily," He assured, "We're friends."

"No," Lily countered, "You want to kiss my mom! I can tell!"

That had Ghost snapping his mouth shut, his neck and ears going a bright red to match the color of Soap's face. They both stared at Lily, unsure of what to do in the moment. This was certainly not something they'd been prepared for in the slightest.

After a long moment of both Soap and Ghost stumbling over one another to try to refute Lily's words, the little girl rolled her eyes. "If you guys like my Mommy, just tell him!" She paused for a moment before giving a bright grin and adding, "Unless you just want him to keep saving you guys from lizards and laughing when you mess up." She gave a bit of a secretive giggle, Soap and Ghost's sheepish faces only making her laugh harder. Her laugh sounded a surprising bit like Roach's.

"You," Soap hesitated for a moment, "You're okay with Ghost and I wanting to..."

"You guys can be my dads if you want," Lily shrugged, "Oh wait!" She shook her head suddenly and pointed at them, "If you wanna be my dads you have to buy me a Nintendo Switch first! Oh! And a new bike! And I want some Sour gummy worms!" She paused to think for a moment and Ghost and Soap couldn't help the amused look that they shot one another. Lily's seriousness seemed to disappear at once and both of the men were reminded that Lily was only a child. A child who just wanted her mom to be happy. "And you guys have to come to the Daddy-daughter dances with me at school! And buy me more fun clothes! Oh, and I-"

"Lily," Ghost cut her off with an amused smile, "Why don't you make a list for us?"

"Oh! That's a good idea!" She jumped up excitedly and started toward the entrance to the living room, likely off to find a piece of paper and a pen. She stopped before she could fully leave the room, though, and turned to face the two men, "By the way, if it helps, my Mommy likes you guys too." With that, she left the room and two shocked men behind her.

"Everything alright with you two?" Roach asked the question as he shut his car door behind Lily. They'd fully packed up everything and now all that was left was for them to go home.

"Of course," Soap waved him off with a soft smile. There was something else in his eyes though, something that Roach could clearly see despite the man's obvious attempt to hide it. It was the same with Ghost. Both of them seemed to have something else going on in their mind, something that very clearly had to do with Roach considering it was only present when they looked at him. "Why do you ask?"

Roach shrugged, walking around the front of his car to meet them, "You two just seem quiet today, like you have something else on your minds." He hesitated for a moment before shyly adding, "I just want to make sure that you guys are okay."

Ghost and Soap shared a look with one another, something passing between them that Roach couldn't quite decipher. "We're fine, bug, really." Ghost turned back toward him, "Just, uh, well," he paused for a moment, "Things were a bit crazy, but did you at least have a good time this weekend?"

Roach gave a small chuckle, "I had a great time." He gave the two men a grin, "Thank you guys for letting me bring Lily. I know she enjoyed herself a lot."

Soap nodded at him, a grin crossing his own lips, "We're glad to hear, you know how much we care about the kid." The words warmed Roach's chest and he could feel his face heat up slightly. He did know. He also knew just how good both of the men were with his daughter. Just how good they would be if...

He cut himself off. He couldn't think like that. These were his bosses and there was certainly no way that they felt the same toward him. "Well," he cleared his throat nervously and gave the two men another smile, "I guess unless there's anything else you need from me?"

There was a long pause as Soap and Ghost looked at each other. They seemed to be having a silent debate but, in the end, it was as though neither of them won. Ghost turned back to him with a small smile and a nod, "You're free to go. Let us know when you and Lily make it home safe?"

Roach nodded, "Of course. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Despite the fact that it seemed like both Soap and Ghost wanted to say more, neither of them stopped Roach from getting into his car. It wasn't until they were pulling away from the little cabins that they'd spent the weekend in that Lily spoke. Her words were no louder than a mumble, but Roach still heard them.

"They're so silly." He didn't bother asking who the words were about. He could guess for himself.

A week after the weekend trip and a package was delivered to Roach's doorway, addressed to Lily. The only note on it was typed out reading, "As per our agreement."

Lily was more than happy to pull the Nintendo Switch out of its wrapping. Roach, on the other hand, couldn't help but wonder what exactly this "agreement" was that his daughter had supposedly made with his bosses.

[wormlette]

Your fic "a good dog" lives rent free in my brain and I'm so glad bc the characterization and the introspection and LAIOS SERVICING CHILCHUCK just make me go feral, can't wait to read what comes next ❤️

(and the noises I made while reading "fervent, writhing" could only be heard by shrimps).

PS: Y'all at the chilaios council are tempting me so hard to create a Chilaios sideblog bc all your brains are so HUGE

OK FIRST OF ALL sorry for hanging onto this ask for so long, I have been cradling it in my hands like a good luck charm while I write ❤️ I appreciate you so much. ALSO "noises that could only be heard by shrimps" is part of my lexicon now lmao.

I've been trying to get a good dog arranged into some sort of satisfying narrative -- I don't know how obvious it is, but even when I was writing more regularly, I still mostly only ever wrote drabble type things that are unconnected. Writing an actual story is my bane in life, but I've been very inspired to try because of all of you.

Here is a good dog snippet I'm particularly proud of!! It's a flashback!!!

“If I can ask…” Laios held up a finger, like a kid raising their hand. Chil raised a brow, and he and Falin watched curiously to see what would come next.

“…why did I upset you?”

Chilchuck sighed and ran his hand through his hair, messing it up further. He resisted the urge to grab it and tug. This guy really needed that said?

“Okay, but I want you to think for a minute, first. Have you ever seen a party lead by a half-foot, Laios? Have you ever even heard of one?”

Laios looked at the ceiling, hmm-ing. “…I guess not?”

“Right. That’s because the things a party leader needs, half-foots don’t have. That’s what people think. Long-legs think anyone who can’t fight can’t be in charge.” He shrugged. “They don’t say it, but it’s like that.”

Laios frowned and started to open his mouth. Chil waved his hand to cut him off. “The way people perceive you is everything in an adventurer’s party. ‘S just how it is.”

The siblings stayed silent. Were they twins? He realized he didn’t know. He’d been a bit incurious about them as well, truthfully. Assuming he’d work for them a little while before they parted ways, probably from pissing each other off. That hadn’t happened yet, so…

“Well. And that's exactly why YOU-“ he swung his empty mug at Laios - “have got to start taking this more seriously! This exact kind of thing is what I’m talking about!” They let him rant on. Having both of their attention on him was not a new feeling, but he ignored it. “The reactions people will have to you are exactly what a leader needs to be aware of! You can’t just say whatever you want!” He was ranting. “You’ll damage their trust in you if you’re careless. Think about how they’ll think, Laios.” It was so obvious, but Laios’ eyes were alight. Had nobody ever had talks like this with him? “And if you can’t figure *that* out, then at least listen to the people around you.” They were listening like he was bestowing crucial information on them. Chilchuck suddenly felt like laughing. There was something funny about these two overgrown dummies, so eerily at home in the dungeon but so in need of caretaking outside of that. They’d followed him around like puppies on errands across town to the bank and the slums, and now they were hanging on his every word. Eventually, he paused, raising his mug and drinking deeply until only foam was left. A warm feeling was in his gut.

“So it’s ok if I ask you, next time?” Laios looked at him with glimmering eyes. “If it’s an imposition, we could renegotiate…”

The idea of Laios renegotiating was laughable enough to make Chilchuck reach for the pitcher, but Laios beat him to it and leaned over to give him a refill. Ha! Maybe he wasn’t completely helpless. He was thinking now, wanting not to offend, wanting to be helpful. This was the kind of thing a party leader needed to practice, so it suddenly seemed very appropriate to reinforce him. “Yes! Like that! Good boy!”

If not for his keen senses, he would’ve never noticed. As it was, most of the time Chilchuck convinced himself he’d imagined it. The look in Laios’ eyes, in that instant, was feral.

[subliminalbo]

Hypnovember Day 5: Self-Care Saturday

It was supposed to be Andrea’s Self-Care Saturday. She’d bought a ticket to see Vertigo early at the Hedron Theater, then planned to spend the rest of the evening locked up in her apartment in sweatpants, eating freezer pizza and watching TV until she passed out. Then, as she was getting ready for the movie, she got the call from Dr. Fielding.

That’s how their relationship worked. Andrea was paid by the job and she only worked when needed, but she was on call 24/7 and powerless to deny a work request. Even though she wanted to protest, she couldn’t even offer a “But…” As soon as she heard Dr. Fielding’s voice, her will simply melted away.

“We have a job for you tonight, Andrea,” Dr. Fielding said

“Yes, Dr. Fielding,” Andrea replied in that dreamy sort of monotone that signaled the total power Carpenter State’s psychology professor held over her.

Sometimes the work could be exciting. The last time Dr. Fielding had given Andrea a call, it was to retrieve a coed who had torn off her clothes and climbed onto a table at Argento’s moaning, “More!” as she shoveled fistfulls of spaghetti into her mouth. Andrea and Tyler had succeeded in both removing the woman from the business and controlling the narrative—protecting a Romero institution like Argento’s by blaming the incident on a mysterious new drug. That’s why Andrea and Tyler worked so well together. They weren’t just good at cleaning up Romero’s messes, but covering them up too.

This call was not the weird horny spaghetti demon lady. This call was, “Attend this scholarship dinner and watch for anything weird.”

“Anything weird?” Tyler had repeated when Andrea climbed into his car with a huff.

“That’s all she said!” Andrea shot back. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

Tyler had lost track of the conversation. He was busy ogling Andrea’s low plunging dress.

“Oh, fuck off,” Andrea snapped. “We got like thirty minutes notice, this is the best I could do.”

“Well you look great,” he smiled.

Tyler speculated that whatever they were supposed to look out for must be so obvious that they couldn’t miss it if they saw it. And, of course, if they never saw anything, Dr. Fielding wouldn’t have to worry about exposing them to too much information. One of those “need to know” type things.

Of course he’d take Dr. Fielding’s side on this, Andrea thought. The scholarship dinner was a great opportunity for Tyler to yuck it up with some big name Carpenter State donors. He absolutely lived for that shit. Andrea had trusted Tyler a lot less since he admitted to her that he’d accept pay in exposure. “Fuck that,” she’d said. “I’m trying to eat.”

The dinner was predictably boring. Tyler had abandoned Andrea almost immediately to introduce himself to Pageant Crowe, the longtime editor of the Romero Scribe. She hung back against the wall trying to make herself as small as possible. After forty-five minutes of listening to old white men speak about the value of a Carpenter education, she tapped Tyler on the shoulder and whisper-shouted, “I gotta piss,” turning more than a few heads at the English majors table.

The bathroom was outside of the dining hall, near the back of the building just by the kitchens. The sound of the muffled speeches bounced off of the cement walls. As she exited the bathroom, she gave herself a moment to sigh, but before she could head back in there she heard a bump from the kitchen. It was probably nothing, she thought, but enough to pick up her terminally bored interest.

“Hello?” Andrea called, stepping toward the dark hallway that led into the kitchen. Next she heard a metallic clang, and a moan floated down the corridor. Andrea followed the noise, gasping when she entered the kitchen to find a woman on the floor surrounded by pots and pans. She was dressed in a red ball gown, an absolutely stunning body with long, black hair and full lips that curled into a perfect crimson O as she moaned. Andrea figured she must have been a donor, because her look wasn’t “fresh off the rack at Target” enough to be a scholarship student.

it wasn’t the woman’s looks that took Andrea’s breath away, though. It was what she was doing on the floor, her legs spread as she fingered herself, cupping at one tit hanging loose from the dress. The woman’s eyes rolled back in her head, delirious as the pleasure drove her forward.

“Good…” the woman moaned. “So fucking gooood…” the woman moaned.

“Jesus,” Andrea laughed. “I’m sorry, I’ll just…leave you to that.”

Andrea went back through the kitchen entrance, closing the big double doors as she exited to give the donor some privacy. But as she made her way back to the hall, she froze as Dr. Fielding’s words flashed like a sign on the highway: something weird, something weird.

“Goddammit,” Andrea groaned when she realized that she had to go back. The woman was gone when she returned to the kitchen, though. “Hello?” Andrea called in her signature whisper-shout. “Horny lady?”

As she crept through the dark kitchen, she pulled her phone out of her small clutch and texted Tyler, then decided that a call would be more urgent. He didn’t answer on the first try. Fuck. A sound somewhere in the kitchen made Andrea jump, but doing a quick scan of her surroundings she didn’t find anything.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “I’m going to get you help.”

No response, but she thought she heard the sound of something large scurrying across the floor. Fuck, fuck.

She dialed Tyler again, finally getting him as she reached the opposite exit of the kitchen. She turned around at the doors to face the direction she’d just come from, expecting to find a pair of glowing eyes facing her, but instead she saw nothing but the dim glow of the kitchen lights.

“I think I found the something weird,” Andrea said into the phone. “Yes, I know who Pageant Crowe is! Come to the kitchens, you dork, I could be in trouble.”

She turned around again, reaching out to pull the double doors open. As they swung toward her, the woman in red slipped through, pressing her hand to Andrea’s chest.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Andrea whimpered, her phone shattering on the floor. When the woman’s fingers made contact with her skin, it felt as if they continued moving, pushing through into her body. Andrea could feel long, invisible tendrils extending from the woman and spreading out into her body.

Something weird, something weird, something fucking weird!

The woman in red licked her lips as if she were savioring a delicious meal. But Andrea didn’t feel like she was being consumed. The woman was transferring something to her, something that only got stronger as it inhabited more and more bodies.

“Accept me as a gift,” the woman said. “Accept all of me, and I’ll make you feel so good.”

Something…good…so fucking gooooood…

Andrea’s lips curled into a smile as she slowly accepted her body’s new inhabitant. Whatever it was that took hold of the woman in red’s body, it was inside Andrea now. And as its lifeforce seeped into every corner of Andrea’s body, it transformed her into the same drooling, mindless slut as the donor. That was the gift that she was given: the thing inside would have total control of her body, while the Andrea inside was subdued by endless orgasm. She began to moan, feeling that aching desire to be filled in every hole. The thing inside seemed to be feeding off of her sexual hunger. That’s what lust demons do.

The woman in red dropped to her knees, tearing down Andrea’s black panties and plunging face between her soaking folds. Andrea had never been so horny, so eager to cum. And she knew that once she did, she would never stop. She would cum again and again and again until there was nothing left of her mind and the thing could move on to its next host.

“Moooore!” Andrea cried, pulling the woman into her. “It needs more! It’s so hungry and it needs to feed! I need…I need to cummm!” 

Andrea left the kitchen with the same disheveled look as the woman in red. Her hair was a mess, her tits loose from her dress, her smile was wide and her eyes were empty. She hastily cleaned up, then returned to the hall eager to share the thing inside of her with Tyler. Maybe this would finally convince him to give it to her the way she’d always wanted it. And hey, even if he didn’t want to, it wasn’t like he had a choice.

Andrea laughed in a voice that was not her own. After such a long, boring night, this scholarship dinner was finally starting to turn around.

[esther-dot]

I'm the 2011/2013 Tumblr anon, and this is kind of embarrassing to admit but I'm also the original Dune anon, if that gives you any idea of my fandom background. (*/ω＼*) I've been in fandom since I was probably eleven or twelve, so fandom is basically home to me lol. I was always more of a sci-fi fan than a fantasy fan growing up, and so it wasn't until GOT I heard of the books; I'd never been a fan of the show, and I was impartial at best to the books. (At school, I knew classmates were reading them--- but for full context, I was a nerd disliked by other nerds for being too weird, so I wanted nothing to do with Tolkien/GRRM lol). I still have a bone to pick with GRRM (and this is partly what limits my participation) and in the case of my regular fandom, I'm very much used to isolation lol. (It's alt-right trolls who have a problem with me... sigh. Imagine a ship like Jonsa which redeems the books' thematic ideas and that's my situation).

I actually was familiar with the Sansa/Sandor ship long before I was interested in either media, because of the shipping circles I run in. Going from that lack of context to the context revealed in the actual books was very weird, because they seem like extremely disparate concepts. If you take Sansa/Sandor scenes and rearrange things, including the numbers in Sansa's age, it does feel like a powerfully violent BatB rendering with a dash of medieval pseudorealism; he's no prince and the romance is impossible, but perhaps he could be her knight or guardian in an unconsummated chaste romance or secret affair etc. It made me really rethink some of the ships I was interested in, and why, and where my tastes diverged from people I usually trusted. I am much less interested in ship archetypes by themselves than how those are enshrined in the narrative/themes at stake. It's also just interesting to me that Jonsa is an arguably truer, redeeming rendering of BatB, or a revisitation of that theme--- which GRRM is interested in, Sansa/Sandor fans are correct about that, but I think it's foreshadowing a future arc for her. Surely all the BatB exploration is being set up for something big?

So how did I find Jonsa.... well, it was a consequence of reading the books lol, though I imagine many people would say the show was illuminating (which is no condemnation that antis think it is). My interest in the books was primarily piqued through the show's ending--- I came to things rather late, but I'm thankful for that, considering that it seems like some of the best fandom discourse has taken place since then. I was mostly interested in it for the purposes of comparison of adaptation, which I find very interesting, and because I find predicting endgames in general very fun albeit painful. I watch a lot of things just to see what my instinctual feeling is because I like practising my narrative divination. I like engaging with storytelling! But I do have a mechanical fascination with it as well. I think this motivated my sending an ask about Dune to both you and transdimensional-void, mostly because the thing that often leads me in the right direction is getting a 'feeling' for the tone of something--- sometimes even beyond pure narrative reasoning. Lol

You'd ordinarily think the show would be offputting to a Jonsa theory (and this is a major spanner in the works, although I do kind of only semi-ironically believe they paired Jon with D/aenerys because E/milia Clarke is shorter than Kit H/arrington, where S/ophie is too tall, which they couldn't have predicted before being informed about a potential Jonsa resolution--- when in doubt, assume stupidity) but Jonsa is also deliciously ironic and tragic even if redeemed through an actual marriage (and we have so many weddings, over and over, that a symbolic redemption of Rhaegar/Lyanna's wound is basically being begged for--- Lyanna is realised in many ways in the story, through both Arya and Sansa... but it makes sense they'd redeem two sides to Lyanna, the wild wolfgirl and the girl married to a dragon. The wound inflicted through Rhaegar's absconding with Lyanna has to be redeemed, whether that is positively or shirking the possibility of a Lyanna/Rhaegar union altogether, so the door is open for tragic Jonsa in my eyes. These types of narrative questions are what I look out for when predicting narrative resolutions and is what led to me to seriously consider Jonsa). I was meditating on this recently because people were asking whether Cat and Ned would approve, and the marriage is only possible because they're dead. A Jon/Sansa arrangement is only possible because they have lost the people they loved most, and perhaps--- like I've seen suggested!--- it might even drive Arya away. As a writer, that, to me, is how you make Ned and Catelyn's deaths in the story echo in a bittersweet way. It's good storytelling. It goes beyond 'and we re-enact the lessons of parents' which is the normal way you'd realise parental remembrance and legacy. And something tells me GRRM isn't interested in predictability. Unless you've read Gothic literature.

So, beyond Jonsa I'm very interested in the reasoning underpinning the show's derivations, and in my case I'm much more interested in Jonsa in the books than the show (that wasn't really what did it), though in the case of the show, I'm interested in where you can potentially see reflections of a book dynamic. But so much of the adaptation is muddied that it's hard to parse, and I'm really not sure how much of GRRM's suggestions they truly had versus what they stuck to. If they knew they needed 'a Jon romance', in the same way as they needed Robb to break his wedding pact with the Freys, but supplemented Talisa, what was motivating their decisionmaking? D/aenerys was the selling star of the show and basically the face of it, and the face of the merchandise and the cultural conversation etc. (which is why they made her death punishing--- the storytelling is so spiteful, and normally I'm a villain apologist through and through, but this case was particularly egregious) and it would seem silly not to give her a romance, because how can you write important female characters without romance? Now, I'm a perennial romance apologist, but the thinking here, to me, seems rather suspicious. So, I think what's special about ASOIAF right now is we've got a theoretical ending through the show, but where does that translate to the books? And where does the fandom get it wrong, and where do they get it right? The historic ubiquity of Sansa/Sandor, and many other fandom trends (e.g. D/aenerys is the rightful ruler, or tragic heroine, and so on) is kind of like honey to me, because all of those theories were completely blown out of the water by the show, but critically--- critically--- there's still room for expansion in the book for other directions. I was put off by simplistic interpretations of the books that floated around and when I read them the fandom characterisation, crossplatform, was actually shocking to me.

Since you asked--- and I'm terribly sorry--- I have a lot of feelings about when TWOW may or may not come out, not just because of anticipation, but because GRRM's authorial struggle is hard to watch through the eyes of fandom. The condemnation of his procrastination, his apparent carelessness--- that he 'took the money and ran'--- the hopelessness--- it's very hard to watch, and what I wonder is how he feels as a writer. Releasing TWOW will lead him into the final endgame, and he'll have to say goodbye to his magnum opus. That is very hard, beyond the show sailing ahead, and beyond anything else. It also gets to me in a personal way (which no one else can help!) because I am a writer trying to finish a long work, and I'm literally at the equivalent point GRRM is, and--- although he's a celebrated published author, and I'm writing for the sole joy of it--- I think that there is probably something fundamentally similar there, which is that holy fuck it's hard. It doesn't matter how much you know what you need to do, doing it is hard, and writing itself is actually an extremely difficult task. And by writing that means formulating ideas, as well as actual finger to DOS machine.

Writing sometimes is kind of like trying to paint a person, except you've never seen a human being before.

But I think that if GRRM is really committed to his bittersweet romanticism, he can pull off a goodbye, lol. And as much as I quibble with his narrative ethos and sometimes he makes me tear my hair out, I want to see him complete his work, because I think every single author deserves that. And because I think that at a minimum, for something like ASOIAF, the legacy of its ending ought to be his final say. I can't speak to his actual psyche but I do fully believe if he can publish TWOW, he can do ADOS. My observation is that TWOW is structurally much more difficult than ADOS, and I think that's one of many reasons he's been dragging his heels, long before the show caught up. Once he gets to the victory lap of ADOS, he will probably have both a professionally and emotionally easier time in terms of having to finish it. TWOW merges the split threads of AFFC and ADWD, whereas ADOS will only have to follow through (touch wood) on the one book, where many perspectives and their storylines will have converged--- at some point, we may have Sansa, Jon, and Brienne all unified! Which resolves character goals as well as being more economic with POV distribution. This is the angle I find very interesting because I think the way he uses character chapters to establish context and meaning beyond pure character is actually genius and rarely done so well in genre fiction, and I'm completely envious of it. (This is also why Jon/Sansa makes so much sense).

This is a terribly long ask so please don't feel the need to respond line by line, lol. I think I got a little excited! Having a positive fandom interaction is so nice. It's really weird that fandom has become such a polarised place (I mean, we had ship wars, but people kept to themselves more), and you're lucky Jonsa is your first fandom--- well, outside of the anti-Jonsas--- because I think it's a lovely place.

This goes for any Jonsa reading it: thank you all for literally keeping me sane. 🥰🥰🥰🥰 If I may ask, Esther, I think you've said that you came to Jonsa through the show then the books--- what drew you to Tumblr fandom? I'm always interested in how people find fandom!

Dune, anon! I'll tag @transdimensional-void because your convo about it did make me finally watch Dune (although I still don't think I'll read the book, sorry!), but the film was gorgeous. I didn't realize the director was Villeneuve. He always has very interesting projects and arresting visuals. Arrival was such a surprising take on an alien movie and it has really stayed with me. I think he has exquisite pacing, too.

Well now I’m even more concerned about the attempted doxing! Horrifying. The internet can be a wonderful thing, but I swear, it brings out the absolute worst in people.

I totally get what you mean about S*nsan seemingly being a BatB thing, but I’ve suggested before that it’s more in line with one of the old monster movies or even King Kong which love to pair something terrifying with a beautiful woman or little girl. It doesn’t mean romance, it’s the juxtaposition of extremes, raw power being stopped by beauty, violence being calmed by gentleness. There’s that line at the end of King Kong, “It was beauty killed the beast.” IMO, the beast and beauty idea is certainly there for the Hound and Sansa, I just don't think it's Disney's Beauty and the Beast. It's a highly romanticized idea, but not a romance in the way we use the term now.

My parents are both huge readers, not really into novels. My dad liked The Hobbit and LOTR tho, and got really into doing dramatic readings of those at bedtime for us kids. I remember The Hobbit the best because he’d make up tunes for all the songs and sing them. They’re very nostalgic for me, that love extends to the LOTR movies, but made it impossible for me to sit through the Hobbit adaptation. Anyway, I read a few sci fi and fantasy books, but I never really got into it. My little sister on the other hand luuuuurrrvs fantasy and she was the one who got me to watch GoT (I’d heard of the books, hadn’t read them) together, but then we ended up living in different states and she decided that it should be our thing to avoid spoilers and only watch the show when we got together. So, we were always running behind from that point on, but we made it through s5 that way. Eventually we just didn’t have the time to do that, and she was so disgusted with s5 she was happy to drop it completely--never watched another episode. I was too invested to stop, so I watched s6-7 myself and was simply appalled by the characterization of Jon. It made me get online for GoT content for the first time. This was in 2018. I saw that Martin gave interviews saying the show’s ending would be his ending, so I a) sped read the books, b) started listening to some of his interviews, c) saw the term “Jonsa” for the first time in the comments of one.

It took nothing to get me onboard because Jon and Sansa were my favorites, I really loved their scenes together, I hated everything after they separated in s7, and I read a lot of 19th century lit as a teenager, so cousin marriage didn't even strike me as weird in the historical context. I can't remember which meta it was I read first, one of Fedon's or blindestspot's prediction of a Jonsa reunion and marriage from 2013, but I got on tumblr and was totally sucked into the fandom.

“I do kind of only semi-ironically believe they paired Jon with D/aenerys because E/milia Clarke is shorter than Kit H/arrington, where S/ophie is too tall”  — I’m screaming. D&D @ Kit: "Sorry buddy, if you didn’t want your character to fall in love with a mass murdering tyrant you should have kept growing." lmaooooo.

“Jonsa is also deliciously ironic and tragic even if redeemed through an actual marriage (and we have so many weddings, over and over, that a symbolic redemption of Rhaegar/Lyanna's wound is basically being begged for--- Lyanna is realised in many ways in the story, through both Arya and Sansa... but it makes sense they'd redeem two sides to Lyanna, the wild wolfgirl and the girl married to a dragon. The wound inflicted through Rhaegar's absconding with Lyanna has to be redeemed, whether that is positively or shirking the possibility of a Lyanna/Rhaegar union altogether, so the door is open for tragic Jonsa in my eyes.” --You put this so beautifully. I wish you'd get a side blog and post that in the Jonsa tag, I love it!

One of the major puzzles to me is how the fandom all know just how much the text talks to itself, it's notably self-referential, so the way they dismiss the idea of Rhaegar's son and a Stark girl romance...I have a really hard time believing they don't see the logic there, how it would bring things full circle. The way they treat S*nsan as "practically canon" while calling Jonsa a crack ship when we have that hanging over our heads is a little incomprehensible.

“I was meditating on this recently because people were asking whether Cat and Ned would approve, and the marriage is only possible because they're dead. A Jon/Sansa arrangement is only possible because they have lost the people they loved most, and perhaps--- like I've seen suggested!--- it might even drive Arya away.” --I agree with this too. I am very struck by how NedCat, some of the best people and one of the best relationships Martin offers, has this pain and tragedy written into their love. That's a big reason why I can't quite get on board with an easy resolution to Jonsa, because Martin is just drawn to conflict which is why his characters and story is so compelling, but also makes me think, there will be layers to Jonsa, some real pain there.

“And something tells me GRRM isn't interested in predictability. Unless you've read Gothic literature.” — I once posted a list of gothic lit tropes and he’s included all of them. But Gothic heavily influenced horror, and ASOIAF has horror elements, so that isn't totally surprising when you think about it. It still amuses me though!

It’s definitely a real struggle to see the sense behind D&D’s choices but when I was reading an interview looking for a specific quote, I did see that even in 2011 Martin was saying he knew the endgames, which is a) comforting for Sansa ending up safely in Winterfell purposes, b) reassuring for Dark Dany believers, c) hilarious when you think about how many people are still pissed about Arya and Bran’s fates. And Jon? Well, I’ve made my peace with a tragic ending (although I’ve mocked it a great deal too because I can't see how it works), but we all know they fucked him over the most in s7-8, so I could also see D&D trashing what his ending was meant to be in favor of catering to Targ fans. Apparently Emilia has recently reiterated her frustration that Jon “got away” with killing Dany, so like…imagine the rage if he’d killed Dany and then got a HEA in Winterfell. 

My feeling is that Martin told them Jon would kill Dany and they chose to do "the romance" (which imo, they didn't like because the way they wrote and filmed it and permitted Kit to act it just...sabotaged it in every way imaginable) to make it more palatable to her fans who ate it up. They actually are comforted that Jon "loved" Dany and after s8 dropped pics/gifs of him cradling her dead body into our tag bragging that he loved her. Like, D&D made really crappy choices, but I think it was about manhandling their audience while hitting Martin's plot points they knew the Targ fans would hate, not a result of them throwing out the endgames.

“ The condemnation of his procrastination, his apparent carelessness--- that he 'took the money and ran' --I’m not a Martin defender, I have real reservations with some of his choices, but I have family his age and do try to think of him as a person. I find a lot of how people speak of him...well, I have no issue with people being frustrated we don't have TWOW considering how long ago he said he'd finish it (like, back in 2016) and how often since then he's indicated getting close to the end only for it to then sound like he's quite a ways away. As long as people don't harass him, I don't think it's an issue to talk about this in fandom spaces. However, they often sound ignorant of what it takes to write something like ASOIAF, with all the levels he's trying to work on. Also, his writing style sounds like a total nightmare? The idea of tearing things up to fix them seems hopeless to me, and he’s talked about doing this repeatedly—it would be so hard to finish a chapter or several and then realize, nope, gotta rework all of it.

“because I am a writer trying to finish a long work, and I'm literally at the equivalent point GRRM is, and--- although he's a celebrated published author, and I'm writing for the sole joy of it--- I think that there is probably something fundamentally similar there, which is that holy fuck it's hard.” --Oh ho ho! Well, you know that’s gonna make me have all sorts of questions, so if you want to tell me about your work (genre, tome or series, influences, themes etc) I am all ears, but I also know some writers have to keep all that to themselves until they’re done so I won’t pry. Although, because of our exchanges, I would be interested in how you use romance in your own writing.

“writing itself is actually an extremely difficult task” // “Writing sometimes is kind of like trying to paint a person, except you've never seen a human being before.” —dead! I think the issue is, many people don’t distinguish between types of writing? So someone doesn’t distinguish between the goal and what say, a modern romance is attempting to accomplish versus a Jane Austen novel. They might end the evaluation at "like or didn't" and not grasp what all goes into different types of novels, their individual successes or failures, and why some novelists can complete multiple novels in a year, another might spend a few years on one. I think about this a lot when I see people suggest Martin get some ghost writers, and like, this man isn’t churning out genre fiction (which I love, I was a snob as a teen and cured myself, but it is an entirely different kind of writing!), so it's just...a lot of fans totally misjudge the effort required and how easily replicated the work would be.

“I think that at a minimum, for something like ASOIAF, the legacy of its ending ought to be his final say” --I find it incredibly sad every year that goes by and the chance of him completing his series dwindles. People forget that what holds sway over a culture doesn’t always have staying power and a) I think his work is doomed to being forever misinterpreted unless he finishes and b) I don’t think he’ll have accomplished what he wanted to regarding elevating fantasy / getting it the respect he believes it deserves unless he gets to that ending. It's a shame.

I enjoyed reading all your thoughts on Jonsa, the ideas it touches on and how GoT/ASOIAF might differ. Thank you!

[monstaxdirtywonk]

Heaven is a place in hell with you pt. 7

Member: San as Hades X Persephone reader

Synopsis: It's based on the myth but I've done some changes to fit my narrative

Genre: Fluff, Angst, eventual smut

You thought about it, you really did. What was left for you to do at last was to explain to Nefeli that you were gonna leave. You'd miss her so much but you felt like there was no other way. Artemis wouldn't wanna see you after you chose Hades over her, and you wouldn't be allowed to join the fellow nymphs again. But just like biological kids make their own decisions on how to navigate life, you wanted to do the same. You'd come back and talk to her eventually. But currently your foggy brain was full of his thoughts, and you couldn't make a plan on anything other than to meet him. You heard a knock at the door and concealed your little bag that you were preparing.

"Yes?"

"It's me" Nefeli said. You'd recognize her lovely voice anytime, anywhere.

"Come in". You answered and here she was in all her glory.

"Please take a seat" you gestured.

"Why are you making your bag?" She squinted her eyes suspiciously although she probably knew already what you were up to. Sometimes you were too similar for your own good.

You sighed. She wouldn't approve of your choice and you knew. It was beyond logic but isn't love irrational by default? It makes us care and cherish someone more than we should and that person has so much power over us but we allow them to do that because we trust them that they won't break our hearts.

"I wanna leave"

"I figured that out. I think I know where you want to go too but I wanna hear it from you first"

You turned around and nodded.

"I'll go to Hades". You said and flinched a bit because you were waiting for her to start scolding you till the end of time.

Nefeli just sighed. She didn't have the tough love part activated today it seems like.

"You know that you don't know him long enough for such a big decision, right?"

"I do. I also know that there's no coming back because Artemis won't allow me back in ever again. But at the same time I feel like I can't even breath properly when I'm not around him. Sometimes I think to myself, how did I do that before meeting him? I was so lucky to not have found someone to make me feel such intense emotions. Due to my love, my heart is fragile and easy to break. I give up so much power for him to use, even my vulnerable self can't make peace with that thought, but I'd rather have him break my heart than not have him at all. Even a heartbreak would be less painful by his own hand".

Silence was all you could hear in the room. That uncomfortable one which occur when you dropped a bomb of words. Nefeli couldn't stop you from living the life that you wanted, but at the same time she was overly worried for you.

"No matter what happens, with Artemis or Hades, know that I will be here for you. Where I am, you'll always find a home, a sister, comfort. I don't want you to think that you're alone. I'd say I'd help you as much as I can but I'd rather say I'm gonna help you as much as you want. Even if it's not possible, I'll make it that".

Tears were running down your cheeks, you felt a sense of relief because she was right, you felt alone after thinking of the terrible scenario of Hades and you not working out.

"Thank you. The first chance I'll get I'm gonna come and see you" you said and went for a hug that she gladly returned.

"When are you gonna leave?" She asked and looked around the room for something you might forgot.

"At dawn. I wanna be as discreet as possible after all"

"Hold on, I'm gonna bring something for you"

You felt slightly confused as to what that might be but kept on folding your dresses. You didn't have many but they were kept in great condition as you took care of them.

"Here". She said, out of breath slightly because she was running.

"You didn't have to run to your house" you said, making her take a seat again.

"I was too excited to bring it to you"she answered

You opened the box, two little pearls sat inside the jewelry holder.

"Those are for me?"

Nefeli nodded.

"Brides take a dowry usually and that won't be too much for Hades but it's gonna do."

You laughed at her light hearted humor. You thought to yourself that she was so sweet to give away a pair of the few earrings she owns.

"It's not anything high end but I'm sure you'll look lovely in them".

You smiled at her.

"Well since you gave them to me they are precious to me"

"Don't be so cheesy for once" She looked at you disapprovingly.

"Hehe sorry" you said and went for a hug again. You wanted as many as you could before your departure.

"I trust you. Have faith in yourself too"

You nodded and hugged her once again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time seemed to be even more endless than it usually is for Hades. He didn't need a method to calculate time here, because such constructions that humans used to measure the day, weren't needed in the after life, but he knew for a fact that he couldn't wait to see you again. Longing for someone makes time to pass slowly, but when you're together, you simply can't get enough.

He also had his doubts. You told Thanatos that you'd come here to talk, but you didn't say you'd stay. Maybe you'd come to reject him but at least he'd be able to see you for one last time. The power a little mortal girl held over such a powerful God would have to be laughable at least. But he didn't even consider all that because he didn't view you as such, you were his equal, someone he wanted to keep by his side and shower with love.

While he was lost in his thoughts he heard sounds coming from the portal area and quickly rushed to check what was going on. There, he could see you throwing rocks in the lake in order to be noticed by him. You looked absolutely adorable and his dimples finally showed up after weeks of being hidden in his cheeks. Oh the delight he felt now that you'd finally meet.

When the stairs opened, you ran down the stairs as fast as you could, which lead to you not so gracefully almost falling to the floor, if it wasn't for Hades' fast reflex. He got to you before you embarrassed yourself and you were beyond grateful for that.

He smiled at you and you felt your heart bursting. Is this how love should feel like? An endearingly annoying feeling, a mixture of anxiety and tranquility you'd say.

"I got you this time but don't run like a maniac next time, okay?"

Your grasp on him tightened and you spoke.

"There'd be no next time though".

Hades' eyebrows furrowed. If he had s heart, it'd be beating like crazy by now. Here it is. You arrived to tell him that you won't come back again to him. But why would you run to say that and why would you not let him go? Maybe you wanted to make the most out of that last encounter you two shared.

"No next time?" Hades asked as he gently pushed your jaw upwards because this conversation needed you two to look at one another.

"Yes. I took my decision and I'm gonna stay with you. "

It was comical how fast his expression changed from worried to cheerful, you couldn't help but laugh.

He lifted you up and started swirling around, almost making you dizzy, from love mostly, but his movements might have played a role there too.

"Let me gooooo...I haven't touched the floor since I arrived".

"I'm scared you might leave if I'll do that".

"Never! You'll grow sick of me, don't worry" you smiled, looking at him in the most gentle and loving way anyone has looked his way. He was receiving the most love he's ever experienced by a single glance.

"We're gonna see about that". He laughed again, forming little lines around his eyes.

"Can I get a kiss?" You asked, surprisingly bold for your standards. But you were dreaming of that moment for so long, it was your consistent daydream and the theme of your night dreams too.

You saw those dimples again you've grown to love so much, you definitely gotta kiss those too one day.

Hades came closer, his hands were placed at the back of your waist, always gentle and respectful towards you. You placed yours against his chest, feeling the muscle underneath his clothes, making those butterflies in your stomach activate again. His face moved closer but you didn't panic, despite this being your first kiss, it felt safe and non judgmental. His lips danced slowly against yours, and you followed along. It felt like home, like a sunny day during May, like a summer night by the sea. A simple, intimate act that made time stop, something so casual and small, that held so much value to you.

"Welcome home, my love".

[atonalginger]

WIP Wednesday

Howdy y'all! @fangbangerghoul reminded me it was Wednesday and also tagged me in a wonderful fic rec list for Delgado content that you can find HERE with lots of of great recs as well as a peek of her latest Delgado fic, Heavy Metal Lover. If you like great action and fight sequences and have a hankering for quiet, snarky assassins and grumpy Delgado, give their ao3 a look. They also write for My Time At Sandrock and Baldur's Gate 3!

As far as tagging others, today I'm openly tagging anyone who sees this and feels they have something to share. I know a lot of us are going through it atm and so no pressure.

For my WIP sneak peek I have some more from a currently unnamed fic that follows Rokov through the back half of Work-Life Balance and afterward, giving a glimpse at what was going on with Della's other half during the chaos. The WIP is a little slower paced with lots of hurt and comfort going on and a better look into Del and Rokov's dynamic in their little triad.

Del sat with Rokov near the pool, failing to keep the icepack on his swollen left eye as they waited for word. He refused to be looked at by any of their trained medics despite looking like he’d been through hell himself. Every time someone approached he ordered them to make themselves useful for Samina.

“At least lay down,” Rokov motioned at the rest of Del’s chair, “so they think you’re taken care of?”

“I don’t need to lay down,” Del snapped, looking back at the medbay as the ice pack slipped out of his hand, “I need to know that she’s alright.”

“Da,” Rokov reached down and picked up the pack. He carefully dragged his chair closer and gently placed the ice on Del’s face, causing the man to jump and curse at him in Spanish.

Delgado raised his hand to backhand Rokov’s hand away but stopped himself, shuddering as he stifled a sob. He relaxed his shoulders as he fought to keep himself together, “I thought I could keep Naeva’s focus. I thought we had it covered. If I’d hidden we might have…”

“It could have been a lot worse too,” Rokov said softly as he leaned in, “the whole thing was a gamble from the start.”

“I thought I knew her,” Delgado let the words fall out of his mouth in a whisper as a tear escaped his uncovered eye, “I used to count on her to have my back. I trusted her. But when she walked in…it was like looking at a stranger.”

“She’s been on this path for a while,” Rokov said while studying Del’s bloodied lip. It was split down the center of his lower lip, swollen enough to create a slight lisp when he spoke. Rokov wiped the drop of dried blood from above the patch of hair on Del’s chin, drawing his leaders focus away from the medbay and to him.

“I didn’t think she’d go this far,” Delgado admitted, “I knew she was intense, I knew she didn’t like Bella, but I thought I things under control. Sure, she pushed back but I was always able to…no that’s a lie I’ve been telling myself. That’s clear now.”

“She had a way of getting in people’s heads,” Rokov pulled the icepack back to look over the bruise, “and under people’s skin. She knew what to say and do to gain favor and how far she could push back without losing standing. After the shit with Rake happened she lost face with a lot of people around the Key, including you.

“Then she brought in this unknown to her rook only to learn the blonde nobody is actually very well known and skilled. That would be embarrassing on its own but then you took a shine to the beautiful blonde. Bella got more and more of your time and attention and had better ideas with less mess than anything Naeva could come up with. She felt threatened and did everything she could think of to threaten and discredit Bella and failed every time, likely pissing her off further. You were looking at a stranger because she took the mask off she’d worn around you for so long; she could no longer control the narrative so she no longer had a need to be whatever passed as nice with her.”

Delgado sighed, his shoulders and back slumping as he leaned forward to rest his face in his hands, elbows on his thighs, “we talked about it so many times. How Bella wasn’t interested in that sort of position, she was content as a rook and then later as a captain. Naeva’s position was never at risk. Bella would have gladly buried the hatchet with her if the dumb bitch would have given her a chance.”

“Naeva was a survivor,” Rokov leaned in and rested the side of his temple against Del’s.

“So is Bella, so are you,” Del leaned into him, one hand dropping to reach over and touch Rokov’s arm, “same as me.”

“And you know how easy self-doubt and paranoia can worm its way in if you aren’t careful,” Rokov whispered, “it didn’t matter how many times you told her she was safe when Bella continually made her look inept in front of you and the crew in command. What would normally be playful jabs turned into venom tipped fangs.”

“I could have ended this weeks ago,” Del mumbled.

“You had no reason to think it was going to get this bad,” Rokov looked in and nuzzled Delgado’s cheek, “Bella will pull through and we’ll be back to taking what’s ours in no time.”

Delgado snorted, “That’s if her friend doesn’t kill me first.”

[absolutebl]

Secret Crush On You - the good, the bad & THE AGONY of indecision

a not so quick, and not quite pitch for... 

Secret Crush On You 

(Thailand, Feb-May YouTube) 

Rating: 7/10

(let me explain!) 

Main Tropes: stalking, obsession, hottest guy on campus, multiple couples, queer affirming 

Previously known as Stalker the series, and you can TELL. Co-produced by and featuring (but NOT staring) Saint and directed by Cheewin (sigh) with mostly fresh faces it was pure pulp and... I hated the plot. 

In fact I was ALL OVER THE PLACE with this show. 

I ADORED both queer friendship groups, and the language use that resulted, and the main character reads as out gay and a bit femme, which is lovely to see. As @heretherebedork​ pointed out this show is basically giving the characters that usually get punch downed on, mocked, side-lined, and pillorized, their own love stories and happy endings - and I LOVE THAT for them. And for Thailand. 

The show even hangs a lantern on this in a flash of brilliant self reference:  

But (and you knew there was a big ol’but coming) the stalker aspect was far too much for me. Toh, the lead, was so cringey I dropped it at ep 3 because it had become my personal hellscape of second hand embarrassment. Those whose opinion I trust WOULD KEEP talking about it here, so I gave it a second... and then a third try. 

Like Bridesmaids or The Hangover this is NOT a style of humor or romcom that I enjoy at all. 

As is often the case with stories of this type, initially Toh came off as desperate, needy, and awkward while Nuea had no personality. 

This meant that I could find no reason for Nuea to fall in love with Toh (although sexual attraction seemed to play a BIG role and that, by episode 6 started to save the show for me). Also the only reason I could find for Toh to like Nuea was Nuea’s appearance (fair cop). 

Self consciously, the narrative seemed to recognize its own flaw in this matter too and sought to address it by hanging yet another lantern (or two) on it in the final episode but, I was over it by then.

And while Nuea did grow out of his blandness, Toh never stopped being a complete nightmare (for me).

Certainly as we got to know Toh better his disposition was better understood (Austen) BUT I never grew to like him, or entirely understand why Nuea liked him, either.

I DID like how very first love and gay sexual journey of discovery Toh & Nuea’s relationship was. 

This was one of those rare (and much coveted) BLs where the characters actually do seem to want to fuck each other. 

In fact, SCOY’s Nuea & Toh are the pinnacle of that awkward first-time super-sexualized relationship. Their hormones practically leak off the screen. I REMEMBER what this was like. Knowing how cool you want to be, but also just craving another human THAT BADLY you totally forget your cool. 

And frankly, I like that in a BL drama. Really good, adolescent first love, shown in a positive light with a pro-sex message as well a themes of communication and safe sex? We NEVER get that from Thailand. In fact, we rarely get it in any gay shows, anywhere, BL or not BL. Just ANYWHERE. 

The fact that this show featured a drunk kiss that was NEGOTIATED ahead of time blew my mind. How clever. What a subtle way to address dub con.

In this aspect the actors did a GREAT job, especially Billy (who played Nuea).

There was an awkward raw visceral connection going on with these two that really worked and that previously only Taiwan and Japan have ever bothered to attempt. The other show that got this DOWN was HIStory 3 the BL that shall not be named (but the actors are clearly much older). 

All that said, I spent more time cringing than enjoying the main couple. 

The side couples, however.

THE SIDE COUPLES!

I lost my mind first over Sky & Jao. 

A confident cheesy king who falls head over heals for the sweet scared boy with self worth issues and makes no bones about his interest? 

Actually we have seen this trope before, but it was so perfectly executed with this show.

And then at the very end SCOY gave us Intouch & Daisy

Even though I wasn’t really talking about this show in the bloggosphere, I had to talk about them.

Daisy & Intouch did not have enough screen time, and I could watch a full series all about them. 

I think the show runners didn’t have quite enough faith in standard Thai BL watchers’ willingness to invest in them as a couple, over which I am quite sad. Because I get why. But in this matter, at least, I wish the show had been even more brave and boundary pushing. 

In the end, for me, this show was a real doozy. 

It was a mix of Thai cheer meets creepy, Taiwanese in-your-face queer, and Japanese chaos muffin slapstick (like Kieta Hatsukoi). 

Was it successful mixing these things? 

Not for me.

It had a ton of things I really did not like (e.g. the humor was crass and awkward, and the whole thing was extremely CRINGE). It also had things that really worked: (e.g. representation of multiple different kinds of queerness, about which it very Taiwanese - in that there was no doubt that the characters really did want to bone). It was the opposite of sanitized gay. Honestly, if you can make it through the first half, and survive the never ending cringe-factor that IS this show, the second half is entirely unique - content we’ve never seen before in BL. 

SCOY must be applauded for giving us, without question, the queerest, most honest, most truly gay Thai BL campfest that I’ve ever seen. 

It has to be praised for everything that it does accomplish: 

beautiful peer groups; 

all powerful and encompassing friendship support; 

those friend’s giving equally bad advice & gossiping; 

discussions of topping versus bottoming and safe sex; 

examinations of wife/husband language; 

concerns around body image and self-worth; 

AND the gross, weird, ugly, hilarious side of all of the above.

Did I love this show?

Absolutely not.

Did I want to love it?

Fuck yes.

Do I admire what it was trying to do and, to a certain extent, did do?

Absolutely.

SCOY drove me nuts and made me bush but had flashes of unparalleled genius.

SCOY was many things (a lot of them annoying af) but it what it was, primarily, was actually quite special. 

So, I remain conflicted. 

SCOY made me feel whiplash and I hate that sensation. But I love what it was attempting. I loved when it was suddenly very sexy but then I hated SO MUCH when it was suddenly not sexy at all. I certainly fast forwarded more than I watched. But when I paused to take it in, it did get fun and enjoyable. 

If you like slapstick and you don’t mind cheese and cringe then you likely enjoy this BL quite a bit. In the end, this one really came down to a matter of taste. It’s not to my personal taste, the narrative was hit or miss, but its intention was pure gold. This one waffled from 5-9, so I ended up just going with 7/10. 

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS, just not the usual ones

Final note, the sub team on this show was AWESOME, gotta give them a shout out.

They did mad good work. 

(source) 

[leninova1997]

Really random headcanon stuff about Doom3guy from my novel (series) 'cause why not

Obviously, he is not and never will be my own character. Yet doesnt mean i cannot work on him and extend his personal depth in the name of creation.

- He is easily fitting into the “silent but deadly” type. Not a huge fan of wasting his time on small talk or somehow have them change their minds: he either takes his chances in action or nothing else (well, for the most part that is)

- From the outside, he can be seem like a cold, distant, unfriendly individual who has no feelings and only has interest in his own things. While in reality, he is just a person who is extremely picking when it comes to trust and reliability (mostly taken from his own experiences). He wont spare anything on those who dont deserve it. His introverted side doesnt “help” the situation either (he doesnt really care since this kind of operating has proven to be more useful in the long run, even with all the disadvantages intact). In fact, he may not be the most easily approachable person, however he has a truly loving heart that has all the place to those who he really cares about. You could even say he has a totally changed personality when they are around: he is talkative, friendly, very supportive, encouraging and smiles a lot. Its a rare sighing yet stunning to see and experience. 

- He is the type of guy who would stay behind and fight to his last drop of blood just to make sure, anyone who is involved gets to have the change to be saved. He puts everybody in the first place, then himself on the second. It is not rooted in ego rather in his fundamental beliefs: he is the leader, he is the man, he is the father - he has to step up, has to be the strongest line of defence and at the same time be ready for the possibility to give the best of his best or even his life for others. And he is never shy about projecting this kind of view: he is absolutely convinced, this is the reason he is around and the main purpose of his existence. If you ask me, his father had a great influence on him for sure 

- He was born on the 13th of January, 2118 (not friday!). Originally the place of birth was New York City, then decided to ditch the idea for a better alternative and a sharper narrative contrast. I hope one day you get to see why

- He joined the marines right after he graduated from high school. He was not only preparing heavily for the entry test (we all know who notoriously hard it is and i can confidently believe this wont change a lot in the future) during the 4 years but was a huge dream of his (again, his father’s influence since he served the UAC in the same way, for a fairly long time before his death). Before he got stripped from his rank and achievements, he made it to the “sergeant” (and wasnt too far to make it to “staff sergeant”). 

- He got married with his high school sweetheart not soon after he got accepted to join the marine corps. Their connection is much more based on deep emotional and intellectual properties rather than purely on physical attraction (its there though). Essentially they are total opposites who complete each other (like she is an very open, overly kind hearted and emotionally expressive individual yet a little bit naive and shy) but that doesnt automatically mean they cannot attach to the same principles and live by that. Its more about balance and a steady state that they are both happy and confident in. Also, one of the simplest conformations about their dynamic is how they usually sleep: big spoon - small spoon since it not only represents perfectly their inner sides but their relation to each other in the relationship (or because its romantic in this way and they like it a lot, lol)

- His wife and daughter (born in 2138) not only represent a strong pillar in his life but something essential he can always return to find refuge and (emotional) support in. He is a tough guy with a strong personality and enough hard times behind his back, yet he is not immune to the overwhelming hopelessness and sadness that lingers around and even more inside him. This kind of craving for care become much more evident when he returned back from Mars and had to deal with the trauma of the invasion, the truth and the agonizing nightmares that never stopped haunting him for years. His wife worked as a psychiatrist for the Company, although it wasnt truly her expertise in the field that were needed in these cases, rather her affectionate and devoted nature that helped him out the gutter many times. 

Sorry, i had to put this gif here because its so beautiful  😭 😭 😭

- He has his own interest in many things, but the most important was always drawing to him, especially in an illustrative way. He has a great photographic memory, so combining this with his skills, it often results in well made even stunning art pieces. He kind of neglected his hobby when he become the member of the army, but after his daughter was born, he started to return back to it more and more. He didnt really imagine himself doing this for long or for life, however the entertainment value never seemed to fade away

- He is a huge fan of travelling, specially in tropical and/or warmer areas such as the Mediterranean peninsula, Central and South America and some parts of Southeast Asia. Wasnt the best experience for him though when he had to serve in such places like Syria, Libanon and Libya since the temperature and the environmental conditions were unbearable at best (along with the warzones he had to anticipate in). But to prove somewhat he is an actual admirer: he had his honeymoon in Portugal (it was a short weekend) which he still likes to relive to this day. 

- He is a great grandson of a somewhat “famous” individual (who is NOT polish and have nothing to do with WW2, rather was active during the difficult era from the early 2030s and later 2040s). His first name comes from his deceased uncle to honor his remembrance (thanks to his father) who was suffering from Duchenne dystrophy and died in an early age. His name was given when Mars and colonization was a hot topic during the 2090s and many parents named their child after or in connection with the planet. 

I hope you liked my mindblowing post, hope to make more in the future. I guess

Cheers

[walker-lister]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much @picnokinesis for tagging me in this!!! As the Doctor would say, 'I'm so chuffed!' akfndjnfn

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

19

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,260,962 (girl wtaf)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Doctor Who, specifically for the 13th Doctor

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Heaven Sent

Rising Tides

Timeless

The Haunting Ground

On Hallowed Ground

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, for sure! And if I haven't, it's because I've either missed it or haven't gotten to it yet! But i'm very grateful for people who comment, only seems right to respond (even if sometimes it takes me months... sorry!)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm. I'm actually not sure, I try to round out endings of stories so there's at least some sense of satisfaction or hope. I suppose Strike Twice. Out of all my au's the ending it's the least happy- i don't show them in the future where they're in a much better place. but, having said that, there's lots of hope in that ending.

(There's also a very short oneshot i wrote about Yaz and weeping angel 13 which is angsty af but i'm not counting that i wrote it in 20 mins after the episode lol)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This has got to be a tie between Rising Tides and Heaven Sent! I went all out with making those endings as happy as they could be lol.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Fortunately nothing all that bad, only someone once calling something 'boring,' which is rude but i deleted their comment.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, a few times I've written things that precede it but i'm just not comfy writing it lol

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope but i did have plans to a while back!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I find it hard to go all-in on lots of ships. In fact, i can only really have one answer, which is Thasmin. I think because it is a mix of the character who had given me so much power for self-actualisation (thirteenth doctor) and also a character whose strength yet vulnerabilities i absolutely adore (Yaz). I really enjoy writing them because they're dynamic is so interesting. but, i will say, i actually prefer to write the persuing of a relationship in au form rather than in-universe. I think in universe i do really like the inevitability of their heartbreak, that's another interesting thing to explore.

i'm going on here but can i just say, what i love most about thasmin is how much it was born and continues to exist in the fans. Talking to like-minded people and appreciating this ship- it's actually been my first experience of queer community! It's been very formative for me personally so i'll always treasure it!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

*sigh* Relativity. I'm sorry, but that is going to be so hard to get back into and feel like i'm doing it justice. I feel very bad, people have been very kind about that story.

16. What are your writing strengths?

argh. ermm. I really enjoy writing characters and fleshing them out so... that, maybe? i am quite proud of how i managed to write the very poisonous relationship between Tecteun and au13 Thete in Heaven Sent, and the characterisation of Tecteun so... characterisation, maybe.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I write a lot. Too much. And i think that can be off-putting. I am trying to be more concise, I've definitely been experimenting with editing, etc. recently which I'm actually quite enjoying!

i also think i have a tendency to lay things out too much about who my characters are, what they are thinking and how this influences their actions. So, i am trying to trust the narrative to explore and explain why characters do what they do, etc.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I mean if the occassion calls for it! But i am the complete opposite of multi-lingual, so i'd need to seek some help.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Well, I've only ever posted for Doctor Who, but I suppose my first fandom was Merlin. Me circa 2011/2012 writing the crappiest angst in little notebooks lol

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

ooh aghh!! okay... Heaven Sent. Yeah. There's far too much of it lol but i had such a blast writing that story. It was so fun to develop something quite rich and an interesting challenge to go for a complex plot and lots of emotional heft. I'm also so nostalgic for 2021 when flux was airing!

Thanks so much Taka for tagging me! I'm gonna tag @eriadu-in-the-wildwood @jae-writes-stuff and anyone else who wants do to it!!

[pigeonwit]

👨‍👩‍👧🏅🖊️ hiiii pidge here are 3 emojis for u

hiiii sneep my beloved!!! welcome welcome!!! we haven't spoken in ages i'm so swamped with uni but you're lovely and thank you for the ask!!

👨‍👧‍👧 Do you tell people in real life that you write fic? 

yes actually! it depends on the people of course but my closest friends, including those i met outside of fandom, know i wrote and still write fanfic. but i'm not gonna tell people that i do unless i know and trust them. paranoia babyyyy.

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

i'm really really proud of my descriptive voice!! i used to find it kind of,,, basic? basic and simpering. but in all the reading i've been doing for university, i'm seeing some similarities to my own work and it's making me very confident! i have room to improve of course but i'm very proud of my metaphorical and narrative abilities :)

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

sneep you devious bastard, you!

“Look,” Crutchie sighs, “I think when folks said all that shit – ‘God don’t make no mistakes’, ‘God’s in all-a us’, whatevah – I think we took it a little too fancy. I don’t think some big guy made all-a us, planned out our whole lives – trust me, I’d give him some choice words about what he was thinkin’ when he made me,” he scoffs, a little self-deprecating, but not ashamed. Davey’s always admired that – how Crutchie can acknowledge the truth of who he is, the strain and the difficulties of it all, without being ashamed of it. “But I think maybe...” Crutchie wiggles the tip of his tongue between his lips, scrunching his brow as he fits the pieces together. “I think we all got a little bit o’ somethin’ holy in us. Somethin’ we can’t explain, somethin’ that makes us do good things when we know we don’t gotta. I mean – lookit me, Dave,” he scoffs, twirling his slingshot in his hand, “I ain’t no saint, Jack can tell ta that much. But man, when I think of just layin’ down and quittin’, when I think of just – treatin’ everyone like shit, ‘cause y’know, why shouldn’t I?” He shrugs. “I’m the one who got dealt the crappy hand, right? But I just…” He sighs, something on the edge of wistful, and gazes over his newsboys as they run and yell and bicker through the lodging house. “I just can’t do it.” He chuckles. “No matter how hard I try. And what else can I call that but God?” Davey watches him for a moment, a pensive smile toying at his face – and shuffles past the space between them, nudging his shoulder against Crutchie’s, just for a second. “You,” he says firmly, “would do numbers at my synagogue.”

ask game is here!