#which is really the most downtrodden moment

[impossible-rat-babies]

the WoL’s leitmotif showing up in so many of the sad cutscenes w ardbert and just in general w the sad moments in ShB is very much I Am Thinking

[wifelinkmtg]

TUMBLR POST EDITOR WON'T LET ME TITLE THIS POST ANYMORE SO I GUESS THIS IS THE TITLE NOW. WEBBED SITE INNIT

So let's say you grew up in the nineties and that The Lion King was an important movie to you. Let's say that the character of Scar - snarling, ambitious, condescending, effeminate Scar - stirred feelings in you which you had no words for as a child. And then let's say, many years later, you're talking about it with a college friend, and you say something like, "oh man, I think Scar was some sort of gay awakening for me," and she fixes you with this level stare and says, "Scar was a fascist. What's the matter with you?"

The immediate feeling is not unlike missing a step: hang on, what's happening, what did I miss? You knew there were goose-stepping hyenas in "Be Prepared," but you didn't think it mattered that much. He's the bad guy, after all, and the movie's just pointing it out. Your friend says it's more than that: the visuals of the song are directly referencing the Nuremberg rallies. They're practically an homage to Riefenstahl. This was your sexual awakening? Is this why you're so into peaked caps and leather, then? Subliminal nazi kink, perhaps?

And then one of your other friends cuts in. "Hold up," he says, "let's think about what Scar actually did in the movie. He organized a group of racialized outcasts and led them against a predatory monarchy. Why are you so keen to defend their hereditary rule? Scar's the good guy here." The conversation immediately descends into a verbal slap fight about who the real bad guy is, whether Scar's regime was actually responsible for the ecological devastation of the Pride Lands, whether the hyenas actually count as "racialized" because James Earl Jones voiced Mufasa after all. Your Catholic friend starts saying some strange and frankly concerning shit about Natural Law. Someone brings The Lion King 2 into it. You leave the conversation feeling a little bit lost and a little bit anxious. What were we even talking about?

INTRODUCING: THE DITCH

There is a way of reading texts which I'm afraid is pervasive, which has as its most classical expression the smug obsession with trivia and minutiae you find in a certain vein of comic book fan. "Who was the first Green Lantern? What was his weakness? Do you even know the Green Lantern Oath?" It eschews the subjective in favor of definitively knowable fact. You can't argue with this guy that, say, Alan Scott shouldn't really count as the first Green Lantern because his whole deal is so radically different from the Hal Jordan/John Stewart/Guy Gardner Corps-era Lanterns, because this guy will simply say "but he's called Green Lantern. Says so right on the cover. Checkmate." This approach to reading a text is fundamentally 1) emotionally detached (there's a reason the joke goes, oh you like X band? name three of their songs - and not, which of their songs means the most to you? which of them came into your life at exactly the right moment to tell you exactly what you needed to hear just then?) and 2) defensive. It's a stance that is designed not to lose arguments. It says so right on the cover. Checkmate.

And then you get the guys who are like "well obviously Bruce Wayne could do far more as a billionaire to solve societal problems by using his tremendous wealth to address systemic issues instead of dressing up as a bat and punching mental patients in the head," and these guys have half a point but they're basically in the same ditch butting heads with the "well, actually" guys, and can we not simply extricate ourselves from the ditch entirely?

So, okay, let's return to our initial example. Scar is portrayed using Nazi iconography - the goose-stepping, the monumentality, the Nuremberg Lichtdom. He is also flamboyant and effete. He unifies and leads a group of downtrodden exiles to overthrow an absolute monarch. He's also a self-serving despot on whose rule Heaven Itself turns its back. You can't reconcile these things from within the ditch - or if you can, the attempt is likely to be ad-hoc supposition and duct tape.

Instead, let's ask ourselves what perspective The Lion King is coming from. What does it say is true about the world? What are its precepts, its axioms?

There is a natural hierarchical order to the world. This is just and righteous and the way of things, and attempts to overthrow this order will be punished severely by the world itself.

Fascism is what happens when evil men attempt to usurp this natural order with the aid of a group or groups of people who refuse to accept their place in the order.

There exists an alternative to defending and adhering to one's place in the natural order - it consists only of selfish spineless apathy.

Manliness is an essential quality of a just ruler. Unmanliness renders a person unfit for rule, and often resentful and dangerous as well.

And isn't that interesting, laid out like that? It renders the entire argument about the movie irrelevant (except for whatever your Catholic friend was on about, since his understanding of the world seems to line up with the above precepts weirdly well.) It's meaningless to argue about whether Scar was a secret hero or a fascist, when the movie doesn't understand fascism and has a damn-near alien view of what good and evil are.

There's always gonna be someone who, having read this far, wants to reply, "so, what? The Lion King is a bad movie and the people who made it were homophobes and also American monarchists, somehow? And anyone who likes it is also some sort of gay-bashing crypto-authoritarian?" To which I have to reply, man, c'mon, get out of the ditch. You're no good to anyone in there. Take my hand. I'm going to pull on three. One... two...

SO PHYREXIA [PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE, GROANS]

We're talking about everyone's favorite ichor-drooling surgery monsters again because there was a bit in my ~*~seminal~*~ essay Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia which seemed to give a number of readers quite a bit of trouble: namely, the idea that while Phyrexia is textually fascist, their aesthetic is incompatible with real-world fascism, and further, that this aesthetic incompatibility in some way outweighs the ways in which they act like a fascist nation in terms of how we think of them. I'll take responsibility here: I don't think that point is at all clear or well-argued in that essay. What I was trying to articulate was that the text of Magic: the Gathering very much wants Phyrexia to be supremely evil and dangerous fascists, because that makes for effective antagonists, but in the process of constructing that, it's accidentally encoded a whole bunch of fascinating presuppositions that end up working at cross-purposes with its apparent aim. That's... not that much clearer, is it? Hmm. Why don't I just show you what I mean?

Atraxa, Grand Unifier (art by Marta Nael)

In "Beneath Eyes Unblinking," one of the March of the Machine stories by K. Arsenault Rivera, there's a fascinating and I think revealing passage in which Atraxa (big-deal Phyrexianized angel and Elesh Norn's lieutenant) has a run-in with an art museum in New Capenna. The first thing I want to talk about is that, in this passage, Atraxa has no understanding of the concept of "beauty". A great deal of space in such a rushed storyline is devoted to her trying to puzzle out what beauty means and interrogating the minds of her recently-compleated Capennan aesthetes to try and understand it. In the end, she is unable to conceive of beauty except as "wrongness," as anathema.

So my first question is, why doesn't Atraxa have any idea of beauty? This is nonsense, right? We could point to a previous story, "A Garden of Flesh," by Lora Gray, in which Elesh Norn explicitly thinks in terms of beauty, but that's a little bit ditchbound, isn't it? The better argument is to simply look at Phyrexian bodies, at the Phyrexian landscape, all of which looks the way it does on purpose, all of which has been shaped in accordance with the very real aesthetic preferences of Phyrexians. How you could look at the Fair Basilica and not understand that Phyrexians most definitely have an idea of beauty, even if you personally disagree with it, is baffling. This is a lot like the canonical assertion that Phyrexians lack souls, which is both contradicted elsewhere in canon and essentially meaningless, given Magic's unwillingness or inability to articulate what a soul is in its setting, and as with this, it seems the goal is simply to dehumanize Phyrexians, to render them alien, even at the cost of incoherence or internal contradiction.

Atraxa's progress through the museum is fascinating. It evokes the 1937 Nazi exhibit on "degenerate art" in Munich, but not at all cleanly. The first exhibit, which is of representational art, she angrily destroys for being too individualistic (a point of dissonance with the European fascist movements of the 20th century, which formed in direct antagonism to communism.) The second exhibit, filled with abstract paintings and sculptures, she destroys even more angrily for having no conceivable use (this is much more in line with the Nazi idea of "degenerate art", so well done there.) The third exhibit is filled with war trophies and reconstructions from a failed Phyrexian invasion of Capenna many years prior, which she is angriest of all with (and fair enough, I suppose.) But then, after she's done completely trashing the place, she spots a number of angel statues on the cathedral across the plaza, and she goes apeshit. In a fugue of white-hot rage, she pulverizes the angel heads, and here is where I have to ask my second question:

Why angels? If you are trying to invoke fascist attitudes toward art, big statues of angels are precisely the wrong thing for your fascist analogues to hate. Fascists love monumental, heroic representations of superhuman perfection. It's practically their whole aesthetic deal. I understand that we're foreshadowing the imminent defeat of Phyrexia at the hands of legions of angels and a multiversal proliferation of angel juice, but that just leads to the exact same question: why angels? To the best of my knowledge, the Phyrexian weakness to New Capennan angel juice is something invented for this storyline. They have, after all, been happily compleating angels since 1997. We could talk about the in-universe justification for why Halo specifically is so potent, but I don't remember what that justification is, and also don't care. Let's not jump back in the ditch, please. The point is, someone decided that this time, Phyrexia would be defeated by an angelic host, and what does that mean? What is the text trying to say? What are its precepts and axioms?

Let me ask you a question: how many physically disabled angels are there in Magic: the Gathering? How about transsexual angels? How many angels are there, on all of the cards that have ever been printed for Magic: the Gathering, that are even just a bit ugly? Do you get it yet? Or do you need me to spell it out for you?

SPELLING IT OUT FOR YOU

There is a kind of body which is bad. It is bad because it has been significantly altered from its natural state, and it is bad because it is repellent to our aesthetic sensibilities.

The bad kind of body is contagious. It spreads through contact. Sometimes people we love are infected, and then they become the bad kind of body too.

There is a kind of body which is good. It is good because it is pleasing to our aesthetic sensibilities, and it is good because it is unaltered from its (super)natural state.

A happy ending is when all the good bodies destroy or drive into hiding all of the bad bodies. A happy ending is when the bad bodies of the people we love are forcibly returned to being the good kind of body.

Do you get it now?

ENDNOTES

It's worth noting that the ditch is very similar to the white American Evangelical hermeneutics of "the Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it," the defensive chapter-and-verse-or-it-didn't-happen approach to reading a text, what Fred Clark of slacktivist calls "concordance-ism". I don't think that's accidental. We stand underneath centuries of people reading the Bible very poorly - how could that not affect how we read things today? We are participants in history whether we like it or not.

I sincerely hope I haven't come across as condescending in this essay. Close reading is legitimately difficult! They teach college courses on this stuff! And while it is frustrating to have my close readings interrogated by people who... aren't doing that, like. I do get it. I find myself back in the ditch all the time. This stuff is hard. It is also, sorry, crucial if you intend to say something about a text that's worth saying.

I also hope I've communicated clearly here. Magic story is sufficiently incoherent that trying to develop a thesis about it often feels like trying to nail jello to the wall. If anyone has questions, please ask them! And thank you for reading. Next time, we'll probably do the new Eldraine set.

[gravehags]

at the altar of venus

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: body worship babyyyy, self-consciousness, body issues, handjobs, fingering, crying, possessiveness, two fools in love and lust, two fools being gross and making each other laugh

Words: 4,251

Summary: When you watch your beloved turn and turn in front of that mirror, you know something is off. Lucky for him, you have much to say on the matter.

a/n: I JUST THINK HANDSOME OLD MAN APPRECIATION TIME with yknow. a side of total filth and desperate desire.

~~~

What a day.

You wiggle your nude body in Copia’s soft sheets, nuzzle into your pillow and look across the room. Your lover is standing before the full-length mirror next to the dresser - also nude - turning his body to consider himself at different angles in the low lamplight. You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers card through his graying hair, loose from the grip of the day’s pomade. He runs his hand down his chest thoughtfully and comes to rest at the slight paunch of his belly. He cups the skin and his lips tug downwards into a frown.

“Amore?” he asks quietly, “do you think I’m eh, nice looking? Handsome?”

Any other time you’d laugh out loud at such an absurd question but you can tell from his slumped posture that he’s feeling downtrodden and that simply won’t do.

“The most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And that is not hyperbole. You’re the only man to ever turn my head.”

He sighs heavily through his nose and looks back at his reflection.

“You don’t think I’m…too old for you?”

Now it’s your turn to frown.

“My love…come here.”

He turns to look at you again and you crook your finger and throw back the covers. Fidgeting awkwardly he ambles over and slides into bed and you waste no time in pressing soft kisses to his jaw.

“Shall I tell you how handsome I find you? In great detail - from tip to toe?”

He scoffs and moves to pull the covers up over his chest but you gently rest your hand on his to stop him.

“You eh…you would do that?”

Now you do laugh.

“With pleasure,” you murmur, “let me just–” you pull yourself up and swing your leg over to straddle him, “--there we go. Let’s start here.” You rake your fingernails through his soft, wavy hair and smile when he shivers.

“I love your beautiful, full head of gorgeous thick hair and I love the bits of silver threaded through it most of all. I’ve told you before I’ve always had an, ah, thing for older men and well…what sort of older gentleman aficionado would I be if I didn’t love graying hair? I love the way the light catches on the silver and how it feels between my fingers when you’re uh…busy between my legs.”

He laughs softly through his nose, which is incidentally where your journey takes you next.

“And speaking of when you’re between my legs,” you say, waggling your brows as you drag your fingertip down the slope of his nose, “when this beautiful, stately, elegant thing nudges at my clit…oh. Copia I’ve always loved your nose since day one but what this thing is capable of…”

Your eyes unfocus for a moment as you lean in to kiss it absentmindedly.

“You’re getting distracted, amore mio,” Copia murmurs, eyes glittering. Eyes. Those pretty, mismatched eyes and those long brown lashes…

“As always, you are too kind to me,” he chortles, reaching a hand up to stroke your hair. Sathanas, you didn’t even realize you had said that out loud. “I used to hate my eyes when I was a kid, you know? Always a reminder of the bloodline I was a part of but never really a part of…not according to Nihil anyway. Where others thought the white eye was ‘commanding’ on Secondo or ‘alluring’ on Terzo, it was always eh, ‘unsettling’ on me.”

“Hmm,” you say thoughtfully, “I certainly don’t think you need them but did you ever consider contact lenses?”

“Oh, sì, sì,” he nods, “tried them once too in my twenties but eh…something was just…off. Personally I thought I looked creepier with two green eyes.”

You lean back a little and raise a hand to cover his white eye, and then the green while tilting your head.

“Shoulda got a white contact for the green eye instead so you could go around looking like some sexy demonic husky.”

Copia bursts out in laughter, his chest shaking beneath your palms.

“I thought this was supposed to make me feel better?”

“It is! I made you laugh, didn’t I?” you say with a grin, leaning down to place a slow, soft kiss on his lips that has his hands settling on your hips.

“Love these too,” you breathe when you finally separate, “love how soft and plump they are and I especially love the little freckle right here–” you place the pad of your thumb on his full lower lip, “--God you have no idea how it drove me mad day in and day out whenever we’d work together. Driving me to distraction. All I’d ever want to do when you got close to me is…” You lean forward once more and catch his lip gently between your teeth, sucking on it until you feel his cock twitch against you.

“Mmm,” you pull off him with a wet noise that has him panting into the dimly lit room, “is someone starting to buy into the truth that he’s the most handsome man in the abbey? Perhaps even the world?”

“Don’t push your luck, dolcezza, I’m just eh, excited to have a beautiful, soft, young thing on top of me. One who is very good with her mouth, I might add.”

“Oh, that’s too bad you still don’t believe me when I say you’re beautiful. Try harder and maybe I’ll give you a little treat, hmm?”

He chuckles and tilts his head back.

“I’ll do my best. Done with the face, then?”

“And skip your glorious little mustache and impeccably crafted sideburns? Cardinal, you know I’m a woman who pays attention to the details. To say nothing of the freckles that are scattered over your face and down–” you trail a finger down his throat and tap on his clavicle, “--over your chest and shoulders? I’d kiss every single one if I thought I’d live to accomplish that.” You amuse yourself for a moment by playing connect the dots with the marks until your fingertip slides over and traces the lines of his tattoo.

“You never did tell me the story with this.”

He smiles, thumbs brushing soft circles on your thighs.

“Terzo did it. I had just entered the priesthood and he came to my quarters and got me drunk and convinced–”

“Wait, when you say ‘Terzo did it’ you mean Terzo gave you the tattoo?”

“Sì,” he nods, “He knew how much I loved the Omen movies and always complained that I never did anything wild so…”

You lean forward and inspect the ink.

“That looks…a lot better than anything I would have expected from Terzo.”

Copia snickers.

“His lines were surprisingly steady, but his hand not nearly strong enough. I had a professional touch it up later but that stays between us, sì?”

You give him a salute and lean back, raking your fingernails down his chest.

“Back to the topic at hand,” you murmur, “unholy fuck I love your body hair. It’s so thick and soft and I love the way it scratches just right at my nipples when you’re fucking me into the mattress.”

He sucks in a breath so fast he nearly chokes.

“You’re really not holding back, are you cara mia?”

“Nope,” you confirm, watching the way the tip of his tongue slides out to wet his lips as he eyes your breasts. Briefly, your hands abandon his torso to come up and cup them, thumbing across your hardened nipples. You pull away and grab his hands, placing them where yours once were. Greedily, he palms the flesh as your hips make little circles.

“These,” you breathe, your hands covering his, “these gorgeous, big, strong hands with these thick fingers…I can’t even count how many times I brought myself off to the thought of them.”

“O-oh?” he pants, removing one hand and bringing it up to cup your face, “with the gloves a-and everything?”

You lean into his touch.

“Especially with the gloves. Copia, the way I’d fantasize about being able to feel every stitch and groove of those things when I’d picture them inside of me…” You turn your head to place a kiss to the scar tissue at the center of his palm and his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “Mmm, you got me distracted again. Where was I?”

You look down and remember, scooting backwards down his body to settle in between his thighs. He whines now that you’re only touchable if he sits up, too tired to make an effort. Not, however, too tired for other things, you think as you look down at his hardened cock resting heavy against his belly, smearing pre on the hairs there.

“We’ll address this,” you say, gesturing to his erection, “in a bit. But for now…this.”

Your word is punctuated by the way you run your hands over his slight paunch, grinning as you knead the flesh. Copia’s shoulders twitch as if he’d like nothing more than to fold in on himself, eyes trained up somewhere over your shoulder.

“Your soft tummy is so sweet and perfect and–” you make a noise like a big cat growling, “--I just want to eat it up.”

“Clearly from its appearance I’ve eh, done enough eating for the both of us.”

You frown deeply.

“Copia,” you say, your tone deadly serious, “since when do you have problems with a belly? I hope you don’t have problems with my belly and mine is a lot bigger than yours—“

“Amore, never!” he gasps, horrified, “You…you are perfection. You are soft and plush and-and a goddess. This–” he says, gesturing lamely to his paunch, “--is the result of old age. Old age and too much spaghetti.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why it’s hot,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “My love, this little belly shows that not only have you enjoyed life, reveled in it the way Sathanas intended, but that you’ve survived. Endured. I love this belly the way I love every single line on your face. You wouldn’t be my Copia without them. I didn’t fall in love with some guy in his twenties with a waxed six-pack. Quite frankly…ew. Respectfully, beloved, I fell for the kind, smart, handsome, distinguished gentleman in his almost-fifties. Who is sort of goofy and really good with his tongue. I mean…really good.”

He laughs softly through his nose, regarding you with watery eyes. His lips form the words to thank you but no voice comes out. That’s alright, though. You’re not telling him these truths for your benefit.

“Shall I continue?” you ask gently, smiling when he nods.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, where you massage the flesh.

“You know I hadn’t even seen these - like, really seen them - until our first official date? When you wore those tight, tight pants? Lord have mercy these things are thick. I’d be content to gnaw on them like a dog with a bone if you’d let me.”

“Who says I wouldn’t?” he murmurs, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say with a wink, “I’d compliment your juicy ass too if I could get to it so just remind me to give it a healthy smack next time you’re standing, huh? The first time I saw you in profile in your cassock I almost passed out. Goddamn.”

He laughs and tilts his head at you.

“Ti adoro follemente,” he says, “thank you for making this old man love himself, even if it’s just a tiny bit.”

“I’ll take a tiny bit for now, we’ll work on the positive reinforcement.”

“Oh? And what kind of positive reinforcement did you have in mind?”

You ghost your fingers along his half hard cock, wrapping them around the shaft and leaning forward to spit thickly, your saliva landing on the head. The act has Copia moaning and shifting his hips up into your touch as you stroke him back to full hardness.

“Ah, dolcezza,” he sighs, half-lidded eyes watching your hand slide along the shaft, “if only you had known what I fantasized about with your hands.”

“Well go on, bello mio,” you purr, swiping your thumb along the slit to gather the pre leaking from the head. “Tell me.”

He grunts and ruts up into your touch.

“W-we’d be in your office…working on some…some administrative thing. And I’d watch the way those clever little fingers would fly across your keyboard–ah, fuck–and I’d imagine you leaving your desk a-and settling on your knees between my legs. Lifting my cassock up and palming me through m-my trousers. S-sometimes you’d use your mouth too but…always your hands. Always those s-soft fingers wrapped around me j-just like this. I–oh, cazzo–”

His voice cuts off with a moan as you spit on him once again, the wet slide of your pumping hand and his harsh breathing the only sound in the room. With your other hand you reach down to cup his balls, gently caressing them as you continue to stroke the length of him.

“I-I’m not going to last, amore,” he rasps out, thrusting into your grip, “just like that bellezza mia.”

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, “you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, and I love you just as you are.”

You know the last handful of words will send him over the edge and send him they do, until he’s coming in spurts over your knuckles and gasping your name. You continue to stroke him until he has nothing left to give and when he’s spent, you raise your hand to your face and fastidiously lick every drop of his spend from your fingers as he watches with his mouth hung open. When your tongue passes over your middle finger for the final time he grabs at you, eagerly hauling you up his body and slotting his lips over your mouth in a slow, decadent kiss. When you finally pull away, it’s with a smile and you nudge his nose with yours. Gently, you roll off of him and nuzzle into his side, lazily kissing his shoulder. When he rolls onto his side to face you, you move to do the same but he presses you back down into the mattress.

“Copia, your stamina is impressive but you literally just came I don’t expect–”

He chuckles, gently dragging the bedsheets down to expose your body.

“Your turn, dolcezza.”

“My turn–oh.”

The realization hits you as the fingers of his right hand tease at the underside of your breasts and against your belly, dipping further down to cup at the wet heat of you, driving a gasp from your lips. He leans towards you to inhale deep along your neck, lips ghosting over your hair.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start in praising you, bellezza mia. Sweet - in both disposition and taste, tender in body and heart, beautiful in all ways. Tongue and mind as sharp as a tack and ridiculously amusing. Perfetto–” two of his fingers dip down into your labia majora and you see him smile out of the corner of your eye at how slick you are for him. “My perfect girl. Kind. Perhaps too kind and indulgent to this old man but…” his fingertips circle your clit and your hips spasm, “he will show you just how thankful he is nonetheless, sì?”

You whimper as his fingers tease at your entrance before sliding inside you knuckle deep, palm pressed flush against your clit. An echo of how you would touch yourself to the thought of him not that long ago.

“I’m not wearing my gloves but eh, I hope this will suffice for now?”

Your laugh comes out breathy as he begins to fuck into you at a decadent, leisurely pace, pressing open mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

“I never dreamed at my age I’d find someone like you,” he confesses, “Like you were–like we were made for each other. Every morning and every night I thank Sathanas for bringing you to me, thank you for allowing me to worship you. Anima mia, I adore you so much I wish to devour you. To join our bodies and minds and souls together for eternity and further. I told you before that I love you so much I fear driving you off but…I think we are equally matched in our passions, sì?”

You let out a delighted sigh, spreading your legs further to better accommodate him. It’s nice like this - lazy, unhurried - and he smiles as you clench around him.

“Perfectly matched,” you breathe, meeting the languid thrust of his fingers with the tight circling of your hips, “Copia I am yours in every way - yours to use and fuck and–ah–consume as you please. All yours. Always yours–oh fuck.”

The fervor of your words makes his breathing and his fingers quicken, pumping in and out of you with greater force.

“I would have you all night if you let me,” he growls, his breath hot in your ear, “Say you’ll let me, per favore. Please give me this gift. On my fingers, tongue, cock, it doesn’t matter I need you amore, need to watch you come undone and help mend you back together. Please, I–”

He’s crooked his fingers inside you, pressing against that sweet little spot that makes you whine and cant your hips eagerly. You can feel the tears prick the corners of your eyes and you’re breathless as you nod.

“Copia, please, please, please, need you, need all of you–oh, fuck baby that’s it, don’t stop, don’t–ah!”

Your moan is pitchy and borderline desperate as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. 

“Mine,” he growls, “Solo mio come sono tuo. La mia bellissima ragazza perfetta. Il mio cuore e la mia anima. Il mio riflesso. La mia luce e il mio buio. Per sempre. Mia scellerata benedizione, non ti merito. I love you more than anything. Anything.”

Panting, you blindly reach down to still his hand between your legs and he sobs into your shoulder. Gently, you extricate his fingers from you and bring his hand up to your face, tongue darting out to taste yourself. Tears slide down his cheeks as he watches, entranced, as you suck each finger into your mouth before dragging the muscle up the center of his palm. His eyes are wet and bright, pupils blown as you lean up and place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pull apart, you thumb away the tears remaining on his cheeks and smile softly at him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, sniffling, “I don’t know what got into me, amore, I–”

“This was a lot,” you murmur, reaching up to push the loose strands of hair off his forehead, “but I hope you know how loved you are by me - everything about you, all of it - and that there is no one more beautiful on this planet to me than the man I see before me right now. And I’ll remind you of this again and again and again until the end of days and even further. You are so special to me, Copia. I hope that even for a little bit tonight you got to see yourself through my eyes.”

When he leans forward to place a kiss to your forehead, he’s trembling.

“C’mere,” you say, drawing him into your arms as he drapes his body over you, arm around your waist. The weight of him is solid and comforting as you press kisses to his hair, enveloping yourself in the orange blossom scent of what little remains of his pomade. 

“I promised to ravish you all night,” Copia murmurs, his voice comically muffled by his lips squished against your breast. You snort inelegantly.

“We’ve got many nights ahead of us for that, my love,” you say with a smile, hand stroking along his freckled shoulders, “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. But more importantly - are you alright?”

He pulls away slightly to rest his chin on you.

“I don’t think I have been for a long time,” he says quietly, “Not really, anyway. But ever since you arrived…columba mia, it’s like I have a purpose again.”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to get watery.

“I know exactly what you mean. Exactly. I…I really need to thank Sister Imperator someday for bringing me here, in the end. I mean yeah she had nefarious intentions but…in a roundabout way she kinda helped save my life.”

“Amore, I don’t mean to sound like some kind of eh, Christian but…Sathanas has a plan for us. And it doesn’t involve any of that child bearing bullshit that was being spewed at you…no. He brought us together for a reason and for that I am thankful every day. Thankful every day you did not run screaming from Imperator’s office the day of your interview. Thankful you saw this…peculiar, awkward, old Cardinal…and saw not only a friend but a-a soulmate. I thank Sathanas but like I said earlier - I thank you more. I would forsake my Unholy Father in a heartbeat for you, amore. You are my true religion now. Know that.”

The noise that comes out of you is wet and embarrassing as you cup Copia’s cheek and rest your forehead against his. After a moment of shared breath, you pull away.

“My love, I’m so sorry to ruin the moment but I desperately need to blow my nose.”

He laughs - one of his weird little “ehehe” numbers - and the sound makes your heart swell in your chest.

“Anything for the woman I love,” he announces grandly, leaning over you to grab the box of tissues on the nightstand and present them to you. You pluck one out and hold it to your face while Copia watches fondly from a very close distance.

“Uh, hon?”

“Mmhmm?”

“You might want to back up a little? I don’t trust the integrity of these things and you do not want to be in the splash zone.”

Copia rolls off you making the most revolted noise as you laugh and struggle to breathe through your congested nose. Sitting up, you blow into the tissue while he watches looking supremely disgusted.

“‘Splash zone’,” he grumbles, shaking his head, “Amore, you are not well.”

“Yeah, I think that’s been established in our year of knowing one another. And, I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was speaking to the pinnacle of mental health over here.”

He pinches the meat of your thigh mid-blow and it makes you choke. In retaliation, you throw one of your crumpled, used tissues at him and it bounces off his chest.

“Augh, it’s wet!”

“Duh, that’s my snot,” you chirp pleasantly. “What you don’t like it? What was all that before about how I’m ‘your beautiful, perfect girl’, and ‘your reflection’, and ‘your heart and soul’ and–”

“...You understood all of that?”

You smile.

“Not all of it, but most. I’ve got a pretty impressive Duolingo streak going from all those nights you have confession duty, you know.”

He props himself up on his side and stares at you with a goofy smile.

“Amore mio, I take back my disgust. You could use me as a tissue and I would say thank you.”

That makes a horrible noise come out of you.

“Copia, I’d call you a simp but I think there would be some pot calling the kettle black action going on there so I’ll refrain. Ugh, what a fucking day.”

You gather up your used tissues with the intent of heading to the bathroom with them but Copia turns to you with his hands cupped expectantly. Gently, you smile before depositing them and watching him get up and pad over to the garbage in the other room. When he comes back after washing his hands and climbs into bed, making his delightful old man noises, you grin.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” you murmur as you nestle into his side.

“Indulging you? As if I wasn’t the one getting showered with compliments by a beautiful, nude, young woman?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, trying your best to stifle a yawn. “For hearing me out, for letting me show you how perfect you are to me…all of it. And thank you for the very kind things you said about me in turn. I…will not easily forget that.”

“I certainly hope not but like you, I am prepared to remind you over and over and over of how precious and perfect you are.”

“With fingers, tongue, and cock?” you ask innocently, parroting Copia’s earlier promise. He snorts.

“Dolcezza mia, however you want it.”

“Mmm,” your eyelids are getting heavy as you listen to Copia’s steady breathing, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I would expect nothing less from such a demanding mistress.”

“Oh you haven’t even seen my demanding mistress side yet, beloved.”

He’s got his eyes closed but makes the dirtiest, most intrigued noise you’ve ever heard and it makes butterflies ricochet around in your stomach. His hand trails teasingly up your arm, causing a shiver to roll through you.

“Well, Padrona,” he murmurs, low and enticing, “I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for bed just yet.”

You’re already sitting up with a sigh and straddling his hips for the second time that evening as you say: “Insatiable as always, Your Eminence. Hmm, do I get to wear your grucifix and biretta? Perhaps I’ll get that pretty red rope out too?”

“Oh amore…I insist.”

[batbabydamian]

The Boy Wonder #3 by Juni Ba rambling about how cool this series would be to read in a single sitting...it's all so connected!!

rambles for issue #1 and issue #2!

i don't have as much personal interpretation for this cover besides it being a solid piece of art in shapes and silhouette! ALSO. bi bg lighting lol. Damian's "X" posing of his cape and swords parallels with Tim's "X" chest straps + the Robin emblem in the center. Tim's closed Red Robin wings frames Robin's own outstretched cape wings; and on top of that, the shadows cast inside the wings nicely frames Damian's demon mask.

Joe and Merle's dynamic has been so fun, especially with the mutual enthusiasm over the storytelling 🥺 Joe also opens up about his circumstances that led him to this moment, which perfectly sets up the setting of this issue! Even his very first introduction becomes a relevant detail when a fancy rich couple drops a champagne glass, uncaring of the people literally below them, saying “some poor sap down there’ll appreciate it” when it bonks Joe’s head.

it all comes around!! and tbh this issue proves how much this series would slap to read in a single sitting (GET THE COLLECTED EDITION)

Going beyond first impressions seems to apply to the color palette in this series. From #1 in the first page of Gotham, we see the gold of upper society to the blue of the downtrodden → from issues #2 and #3, it’s the warm gold of inner Gotham to the cold blue of the rich. there’s a sense of community displayed among the poor - even part of Jason’s intro avenging Bill, a generous man mourned on panel by many. The rich gives off a sense of individualism, celebrating themselves and their excess.

With the change in scenery, this issue steps into the more civilian side of things through a spy theme - fancy suits and lil gadget intros! Going down the civilian route with Tim feels very fitting since it's what makes Tim's run as Robin so charming!

i love that Talia’s taught Damian to be conscious of the rich’s effects on society, especially in the following page of small panels zoning in on the details of wealth and overindulgence. but also LIL DAMIAN. HIS LIL ROUND EYES AND HANDS 🥺

Damian’s aware of the facts, and his disgust is clearer after having just been through lower Gotham and seeing firsthand the poverty directly caused by the wealthy (also not sure if that old lady is the same one from #1 with similar hair and clothes, but pls she can't a break…)

i mentioned Damian’s “inciting incident” for this journey to be the intro of a demon for Damian to prove his worth but i’m correcting the use of that term!! the intro of the demon is more the beginning of plot, whereas the actual inciting incident is beheading the thief!! it’s the main reason he’s in this situation where he felt the need to prove himself, and atone. Most notably is that the beheaded thief is a consistent character that quite literally haunts Damian every step of the way.

The statue of Batman’s head being popped off becomes a significant visual, because while Damian started this journey to prove something to Bruce, the only one that really seems to have (quite literal) eyes for Damian’s journey is the thief. Why does he make more of an appearance than the actual Bat? Even his statue’s head doesn’t make a figurative presence; whereas the only one looming over Damian is the thief. Guilt over killing him may be driving him just as much as his desire to be worthy. Alternatively, it could be that Damian needs to reexamine his motivations since the thief is really getting in Damian's face now.

Damian is proud to be a positive influence on Tim, but the moment is short-lived. It’s an ironic moment to me because Damian doesn't even know the impact he's had on Jason just in the previous issue!! 😭

Damian's so desperate to prove his worth, yet he's been making choices in every issue to help others!! Helping the old woman up in #1, being vulnerable with Jason in #2, and now sacrificing himself for Tim!

The Ra’s "Weakness" panel has been reoccurring since #1, but it's the first time Talia has been included. Being great figures in his life and mind, their silhouettes consume Damian's, similar to a few of Batman's appearances below. This latest disappointment was such a blow to Damian, that Talia (who he might have the most respect for) becomes an added voice in his head.

Final thoughts!!

Like Rok, does the thief actually have a connection to the al Ghuls or is this beard just in fashion at the moment.

Lex is clearly referencing one of the Underwell warehouses that Joe and Merle are presently, so wondering if whatever he and Tim discuss here will be affecting them later.

Ending with Talia’s cover for extra hype!! i’ll probably go back to this for the next ramble, but i’m already gearing myself up to wail about Talia just based on this cover. The Mary and Jesus imagery (more prominent with Damian’s lil crown as a “prince”) but most importantly Talia weathering the flames for Damian…her own shroud/shawl wrapped around Damian and burning… oh boy

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I'm Muddled, there is SO MUCH on, but also I have FEELS

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

July 2024 Week 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Goodday (Sat YT) ep 11 of 12 - Yak is such a demanding babygirl princess type. It’s kinda hilarious in a fierce boxer dude. I do adore the core brother friendship in this show. It’s so sweet. Also I guess Yak is out OUT now, on TV and everything. 

YES PLEASE GMMTV!!! This ship! Sail it!!!!

The Rebound (Weds Gaga) eps 4-6 of 12? - So it started out as a relatively simple sports romance: first love, separation, reunion. But then just went entirely off the rails: gay mafia orgies, kidnapping, druggie ex teammates with knives, I am Spartacus. All erratic Thai pulp mumbo-jumbo aside? MeenPing are doing great in these roles. Zen's hurt confusion, Ryu’s struggle with internalized homophobia that keeps hurting Zen as much as him. 

Am I wrong to ship FrankPing Just a little bit? I only wanna see them kiss. It’s not asking too much, is it? 

Not sure what’s going on with Gaga and their "ep 6 of 6" thing. Or why they bundle-aired them. Did they just get the rights for the first half? Where is the rest?  

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 5 of 12 - I always end my Saturday with these 2 simply because I love this pair. I also enjoy the show. It’s sweet and I giggle a lot. I like that they’re dressing (and letting) Lin be a bit femmey - with his pussycat bows, coco bag, and little heels. I’m not sure about the pet names but I’ll accept them if I must.

My Stand-In (iQIYI) ep 12 fin - I would like to watch an entire show about the older brother boss and his hot secretary. Bit of a bully romance? Please & thank you?

This was a good solid ending, less predictable than I expected, which I appreciat. I liked that they had a full conversation about forgiveness. But overall, I am left in a muddle.

The show itself? A summation? Oof, here we go...

Adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KinnPorsche. Stuntman Joe dies on the job and wakes up in the body of another Joe with an entirely different life. But Joe just starts repeating the mistakes of his previous self - love, work, play. I enjoyed the experience of watching this show, I looked forward to it every week. I thought everybody did a great job with it and in it, and I liked that is was something substantially *different* for Thai BL. But I’m not sure I'll rewatch it or if it's bingeable. It left me feeling more sanguine than happy. Is there, objectively, anything wrong with it? No. But am I in love with it? No. I think that rests on the central characters, Ming in particular. I never liked him or warmed to them as a couple. I spent most of this show just very very sorry for poor Joe. Thus I was never rooting for their romance. I would recommend it, if you enjoy your BL more cerebral, with complicated unlikable love interests, and a downtrodden sympathetic lead. Is it, perhaps, more JBL that ThBL? Am I biased because it's a Thai production and I had expectations? What magical carnage could Japan have done with this IP? I'm left with questions, but I'm ultimately glad I watched this.

All this means that this show should, by all my own standards, get at 9/ 10. But I'm giving it an 8/10. So there.

We Are Cute (Weds iQIYI) ep 15 of 16 - It really is the antidote to Friend Zone. Like GMMTV just set out to make a nice little show about nice boys being very nice and kissing each other nicely. And it makes me very happy.

Century of Love (Weds Gaga) eps 1-2 of 10 - DaouOffroad are back, this time as fated mates in a quasi historical paranormal moment. Very much Director Who Buys Me Dinner meets First Love Again, hopefully better than both. I love this pair and think they can handle the premise, it's whether the storytelling is up to the challenge.

So far? I like it a lot. I love it when Thailand gets all up in its own historical business and reincarnation and bullshit like that. I’ve always liked this pair too (it’s not their fault I didn’t enjoy most of their first series.) Daou’s wushu is pretty snazzy. We got a fun meet cute. (Erm... Remeet cute? Meet cute 2.0?) And this is a very PRETTY show. With more comedy than I was expecting.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 2 of 8 - I like the friendships, but so far I’m not sold on the personalities of the main couple. Of course I love the pair, and I know they can handle it, but I hope the story justifies their chemistry.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 6 of 12 - They are so damn teen dramatic and over-the-top. To have really played into the impact of the counselor character's original casting, they should’ve had Krist play the role! (GET IT?) That’d be ridiculously ironic. Not that I object to GMMTVs #1 Daddy Papang. Never that. 

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 2 of 12 - Ah ha, I figured it out. This reminds me of The Devil Wears Prada. I’m finding most of the rest of the interns too caricature and thus annoying. But I’m still liking this more than I expected. 

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - The bullying GL subplot is just bad. And I’m getting an overall squick from the fact that the two rich privileged characters are essentially taking advantage of the two lower class poor characters. Trash watch here.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - I’m coming around to Almond + Latte, but I’m not super sold on any of the other plot lines.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - It’s still good and it’s still sticking relatively closely to the mango. So I’m still enjoying it.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - I just don’t really like the dynamic of the younger, poor, country kid desperately chasing the older hot boy. It’s a bit too desperate or something. It’d be different if Takara were a nicer person, but he doesn’t have much going for him but a pretty face.

It's airing but...

Meet You at the Blossom

In case you missed it

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ???) 10 eps - It's ended. Should I watch it? right now 1 vote for and 1 vote against.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. Devastated this hasn't had international distribution. I demand you tell me the moment you find it!

The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) - Got bumped to Aug 2. Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

July Releases to Come

7/24 I Saw You in My Dream (Thai Weds WeTV) - Dee Hup is behind this one so I have high hopes. Younger boy chronically teased his whole life by the older boy next door suddenly starts having horrific prophetic dreams about his bully and must save hime.

7/26 4 Minutes (Thai Netflix or iQIYI?) - Great is a university student from Faculty of Business and the son of a wealthy business owner. Out of the blue, he gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future.

7/29 Battle of the Writers (Thai ????) - trailer here, TutorYim return and while I adore them, I really hope this is better than Middleman's Love. Won't be hard. However: that premise! Ugh. Something something authors fighting - save me. Why don't writers understand that nothing is more boring than writers?

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Such a Best Boy, not leaving his drink behind!

YES please.

Follow me here... these 2 in the Thai BL version of Tein Bromance X, which is to say: Mean assassin meets and falls HARD for snarky school teacher, they adopt a kid together. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO WATCH IT.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember.

[papergirllife]

Lee Taeyong (M)

‘I beg you don't embarrass me, motherfucker.’ But there's always exceptions when it comes to love right?

Taeyong x Bartender! Reader

Wordcount: 6.7k

Warnings: in this fic Taeyong has impulsive tendencies and physical aggression (not towards reader), light b*ndage, or*l play, slight or*l fixation, grinding, penetrati*on, Taeyong is very much down bad in this fic so lots of fluff.

The party is so boring, no one’s dancing even though they’re dressed to the nines in this extravagant hotel ballroom that could rival any celebrity’s expensive wedding, but instead all they’re doing is talking business, but the worst of them, are gossiping, and of course, to your downtrodden luck, you’re the gossip of the night.

“He’s going to be bored of her soon, I just know it, just look at her, so different from his ex and usual type.”

You’re not the type to be affected by being shit talked, however, you do have your worries, and frankly, heartbreak is one thing, but your ego? That’s another, you think to yourself as you sip on your glass of scotch. You sigh as you recall how you ended up in this predicament in the first place.

Maybe you should’ve thought through this more thoroughly, you think to yourself after seeing people go in and out of the supply closet, which is obviously a disguise for the illegal casino beneath the pub you’re working at, though, some people do really come for just drinks, but most of them are customers of both businesses under this roof and since you’ve been here for a week plus now, you recognise some of the regulars by now, but a man you don’t recognise is suddenly taking a seat right in front of you, usually customers prefer to go to your colleagues who have been here far longer and know what customers want, only helping out more on weekends where more people come in for a drink.

You rise from your stool, yes, one great thing about working here means workers don’t have to meaninglessly stand the whole night.

“You’re new here?” the man asks, and if you were being honest, he’s probably the prettiest man you’ve seen, but you screw a neutral expression on your face, one should never let their guard down around a man of all things.

“Yup, what can I get you to drink?” you ask as you take in his appearance, dripping in designer, a pretty loose blouse that accentuates his sharp facial features, earrings hanging off his earlobes, the designs feminine compared to what most men wear.

“Scotch on the rocks, please,” he says while he leans back to make himself comfortable, his arms crossed, usually clients would be looking around for someone to take home by now, the usual ‘pub guard’ scanning, you like to call it, but for the ones that want a drink before going down to gamble, they usually have this impatient look in their eyes, not that it affects you, your skin is as thick as a cheese wheel.

However, this man just sits and observes you. Is he part of the mafia and is scared that someone’s going to poison him at any moment? Or is he a cop and is trying to make you cave to tell him about the illegal casino downstairs? You’re just going to act like you had no idea, you’re not working in the casino itself, they can’t charge you on any terms as long as your boss has an alcohol licence, which is what they promised you when you interviewed, if they’re lying you’re gonna have to kick someone’s ass.

When you pass him his drink, he just sits back and takes a sip, his obnoxiously large eyes still looking at you, they’re pretty eyes, but you’ve never kept someone’s attention for this long, though, in most cases, you could walk away, like those creepy men on the subway, you’re not sure if this guy’s a creepy guy, he hasn’t tried grabbing your hand yet, if he did then you’re viable to call security, but he’s just watching you.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks, a hand mindlessly swirling the glass in his hand.

“Needed money, Seoul isn’t getting cheaper by the day,” you say, a general answer.

“How old are you?” he asks, prodding, why is he still prodding?

“In my early twenties, above the legal age to serve you drinks, what about you?” it’s time for you to prod, engage with customers a bit, your manager always tells you, be a little friendlier.

“28. You look older than early twenties, not that it’s a bad thing, of course,” he says, and with the way he says it, you know he doesn’t mean it in a demeaning way, not that you mind, you swore off men long ago, people always tell you there’s better fish in the sea, but all you manage to fish are trash.

“Thanks, I did my makeup to look older,” you reply as out of the corner of your eye you catch a group of men walking in the pub.

“Why?” he asks, oh men, they’re so innocent to the things women go through everyday.

“So people would take me seriously,” you answer honestly before you excuse yourself to make drinks for the customers, you don’t want your manager to think you’re slacking off within a month.

However, after only finishing their second order, your colleague says she’d take over from you, thinking the customers are her regulars, you move away without questioning.

So you go back to talking to the man, this time round, he finally reveals his name to be Taeyong, he even orders a second drink of your choice.

“A negroni?” he asks with the expression of a kicked puppy, smacking his lips distastefully before he requests for a glass of water.

“Wanted to try it out myself one of these days, but I was unsure, guess I’m quite certain I won’t ever try it now I guess,” you say with a shrug and a chuckle at how comical his expressions are, a little bit of betrayal and a tinge of shock, which makes him look more human in your eyes.

A new customer makes his way to the bar in the meantime, but Taeyong’s brows scrunch up when he sees you’re about to step away to serve the customer.

“Let other people handle him, you just stay here with me,” he suggests.

“Taeyong, as nice it is talking to you, I’d like to remind you that this is a strictly professional relationship, please respect the boundaries between a bartender and a customer-

“Missy, who do you think you are talking to him like that, do you know who he is-

“It’s fine Ms Choi, she’s right, I’m merely a regular, I need to respect her boundaries,” Taeyong says, cutting off your manager.

Your manager looks flabbergasted before she composes herself, bowing to Taeyong before she drags you away from the bar to the small staff area on the side.

“I'm warning you since you're new here, Mr Lee is a VIP, don't do anything stupid, he's not the type to pull dumb shit, so you have nothing to worry about. Alright, that's all, get back to work,” she says before dismissing you.

“If you're worried about getting less tips then you don't have to worry, I'll tip you accordingly for the time spent talking to me,” Taeyong says when you get back to your spot.

“It's not that, I’m getting paid anyways, tips are just an extra, I'm still getting paid a base salary talking to you and not doing anything, so a win is a win, I guess,” you brush off, it's not that busy today anyways.

“No, I'm a responsible customer, how about you make me another drink? One that you fancy?” Taeyong suggests.

Hence for the whole night, you indulge in the lengthy conversation the two of you share, and with every night he comes in, you find comfort in this growing friendship, the only hiccup being that he tips you too much money and he won't take no for an answer.

Months go by and the lines between you and Taeyong start to blur, but you're still quite hesitant, you haven't committed in a relationship since a long time ago and if you're honest, you don't know much about Taeyong other than the fact that he's a businessman, but of what sort of business? You don't have the foggiest idea.

Tonight is a Friday night, which means the bar is busier than usual. Surprisingly enough, Taeyong hasn't dropped in tonight, he doesn't come in every night, but he'd never miss Friday nights.

“Hey, can we get two martinis,” a customer asks, distracting you from your wandering thoughts, and you quickly get to work, but out of the corner of your eye, you see a familiar silhouette heading towards the direction of the fake storage room where the underground casino entrance is located, but the customers asked for something on top of their drinks and you were distracted once again.

After a few more customers, Jiun, a bottle girl and your fellow colleague, rushes to your area of the counter in distress.

“Table 5 wants 6 Coronas in a bucket but I think I just got my period, is it okay if you bring it to them?” she asks, and how can you say no to a woman who's in need of help?

“Sure thing, do you need a pad?” you ask, just in case, you're sure you have some in your locker if she doesn't.

“No, I have one on me, but thank you so much,” she says before scurrying off to the direction of the bathroom.

After putting together the order, you quickly make your way to the table with the customers’ drinks, placing down the bucket on the table.

“You new here, pretty girl? Never seen you around before?” one of the men at the table asks.

“Nope, just helping out my coworker,” you replied as you began to make your way back to the counter.

“What a shame, a pretty face like yours should be admired more, why grind behind a boring counter?” another asks, this one's nearer to you, standing up from his seat to get closer to you.

“Sorry, I have to get back to my job now,” you say, trying to excuse yourself, but the man grabs your arm, telling you to not rush and sit down and have a bottle.

Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you and then you feel someone pulling you by the strap of your money pouch.

“She said no, unhand her,” you'd recognise that voice anywhere, and looking to your side, you see Taeyong next to you, his usually round boba eyes now appearing in a sharp warning stare.

“Fuck off, dude, we were here first, shouldn't we have first dibs on her-

Before you could react to being demeaned in such a way, Taeyong's fist connects with his ugly face, and to your horror, both of them start fighting.

You quickly try pulling them apart but Taeyong pushes himself and the man out of your way, telling you to get security, you didn't want to leave his side, but thankfully, security were already making their way to your direction, blocked by a few drunken customers, his friend, takes the chance to jump in on the fight, and who are you to stand there and do nothing? Taeyong might be handling one guy on his own just fine, but you can't watch him get beaten to a pulp in your name, and you did the most logical thing you could think of by kicking the guy's head with your thick heeled boots and to your astonishment, he seems a bit disorientated by the ordeal, security finally made their way to Taeyong to pull the guy off him and escort him out the pub.

“Are you okay?” you ask Taeyong, but when you inspect his condition a bit closer, you cringe at his busted lip and bruised cheek.

However, before you could suggest accompanying him to the hospital, police arrive at the scene and next thing you know, you’re being escorted to the police station for questioning along with the asshole and Taeyong.

They finished up with you quick, they were a bit sceptical about Taeyong merely defending you, but you played it up a little by lying about how scared you were and maybe you chalked up a little bit on how his hands felt like they were everywhere on you, but it's the least you can do for Taeyong, and it's not like there were cameras anywhere.

“How long is he going to be questioned, officer?” you ask the policeman who had questioned you.

“Probably not long, seeing that his lawyer is here,” he points to the entrance, where a tall man in a suit walks in and follows the lead of an officer into the room Taeyong is being questioned in.

Knowing that he has a lawyer with him, you sigh a breath of relief and sit down on a nearby bench, the coolness of the plastic material digging into your skin, you regret wearing your beloved black velvet shorts now.

Fortunately, true to his words, Taeyong came out soon after, heading to a nearby desk to finish up some paperwork with his lawyer, so you get to your feet and head over to him.

“Brawling in your own pub is a new low, Lee, just let your boys handle shit like this next time,” the officer says.

“Wait, what do you mean your own pub?” the question flies out of your lips and Taeyong looks up, stunned, not knowing that you were still here.

“Leave the questions for later, just finish signing the papers and head out,” the officer orders, with a roll of your eyes, you stand right there, waiting for Taeyong to explain himself, his lawyer trying his best not to laugh.

“So? Care to explain yourself why you've been lying to me this whole time? Regular my ass,” you mutter the last part to yourself as you walk out the police station, cursing when you realise you don't have your coat with you, it's bearable now that it's creeping into June, but you've always preferred being warm.

“I'm going to get going, my cab's here,” his lawyer says, grasping this small window to leave before he gets caught up in a lover's quarrel, passing Taeyong something, to which you identify as car keys.

“Thank you, Johnny,” he says before turning to you with a sigh, his lips sit in a thin line, looking a bit lost at the sight of you, your usual smile wiped from your face as your pretty eyes stare daggers into his face, arms folded, and that's when he notices the goosebumps littering your arm.

“I didn't tell you that I was the boss because I wanted to get to know you without the label and pressure of me being your boss,” Taeyong explains as he shrugs off his coat to hang it on your shoulders before he directs you to a luxury SUV parked nearby.

“You could've told me sooner, asshole. And, why did you pull that shit tonight? You could've gotten yourself beaten to a pulp if I didn't literally step in and step on his head,” you lament, expressing your dissatisfaction with your entire body to the point of swinging your beloved Coach bag that you told Taeyong you were saving up weeks for, and Taeyong thinks you're so cute when you're angry, but he does have to make an effort to dodge the angry swing of your bag as he helps you climb up the passenger seat of his car.

“I know, and thank you for saving my ass but I need to shut the door and get going now, princess,” Taeyong says and does so before you could protest his usage of endearments when you're mad at him.

“How about we get some food before I drive you back to your place?” he suggest when he starts the car, seeing that you're now giving him the silent treatment, face turned to the side to look out to not see him, but the word ‘fine’ uttered from your lips has Taeyong breathing a sigh of relief as he confidently drives into a familiar street where he knows a convenience store is located.

After getting and heating up noodles and onigiris to share, the two of you take a seat in the empty store.

“Don't do embarrassing shit like this on my behalf ever again,” you warn before digging into your cup noodles, the spicy warm soup bringing instant comfort and familiarity after such a hectic night.

“It doesn't matter if it's on your behalf, that fucker deserved it,” Taeyong reasoned as he peels off the plastic wrapping of his onigiri, taking a huge bite of the delicious rice ball he was craving.

“Just don't do anything stupid anymore, if I couldn't handle myself I could've called security, you doing something stupid embarrasses me too, you know, I don't want to end up in the police station with you ever again, my friends are going to think I'm dating a crook,” you say offhandedly, but Taeyong’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in your words.

“Wait, what do you mean dating?” he asks with the biggest smile on his face, onigiri placed on the side, suddenly he's not hungry anymore.

“Don't tell me you're not taking responsibility, I'm literally wearing your jacket and risked jail time for your ass,” you say so casually that Taeyong feels like he's having a fever dream, not even his best fantasies would he ever depict himself being labelled as your significant other.

“No, never, I'm definitely taking full responsibility, and I promise, no more doing stupid shit to embarrass you, I swear,” Taeyong pledges, his hand coming up to salute you, the goofy gesture finally getting the first laugh out of you for the night.

“Though, to prevent me from doing stupid shit, I have a proposition, you have a marketing degree right? I know you said you're against working for big corps cause you hate how they practically steal money off of people's needs, but I do have a few establishments, restaurants of a few cuisines, that need a proper marketer to oversee and promote, so if you're not opposed to letting go your bartending job…” and before Taeyong could finish, you were quick to say yes.

Boy, do the days go by so fast after that, your new job is mostly online, you have two coworkers, a graphic designer –Mark Lee and a social media manager, or better known as the restaurants’ staffs’ biggest fear, Lee Haechan. A small department compared to the two finance departments, one for clean money and one for dirty money, but if anyone asks, you'd say you didn’t have a clue.

Starting out a new job wasn't easy, nor was it too difficult, being a ‘quite fresh’ graduate meant you still recall plenty of the knowledge you've studied in college, but the huge funds you had was of great assistance, which brings you to this party hosted by his friend.

Taeyong said he wanted to bring Yuta, his omakase chef who had just earned his first three Michelin stars under his new restaurant, thanks to your hard work in marketing to attract new rich customers and food critics.

However, people on the top of the food chain always had a reputation of being absolute dickheads.

“She’s literally younger than him, his ex was older by five years at least, and she was one of us, I did some digging, this girl isn’t even from one of the SKY universities,” one of them comments, and it’s true, you’re not that smart and you weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but what has you freezing in your spot is what comes out of their mouths next.

“I heard he got into a fight at his own bar for her and ended up getting detained for a bit, she’s just going to have him end up locked up if he stays with her, people like her bring nothing but bad omens.”

“Don’t tell me you’re letting their words get to you,” Yuta says, popping out of nowhere beside you.

“Even the strongest trees waver under the pressure of the winds, Yuta,” you say before finishing your glass.

Yuta and you have grown close after you had worked closely to promote the restaurant, and he values your opinion of which presentation you prefer, which is rare for chefs, especially the ones you've worked with with many years of experience and a reputation.

“Yeah, but who gives a fuck about some shitty pretentious university, that shit don’t matter as long as you land a job, plus, their faces are so botched, you look way better, Taeyong would never pick these shitty pick mes over you,” Yuta comments way too loudly for your comfort, but thankfully the girls were loudly squealing at the fact that their friend is finally here, welcoming her, unbeknownst of Yuta’s lethal words.

“Pick who over my sweetheart?” Taeyong asks, a hand coming to rest around your waist.

“I said you wouldn't, but someone’s doubting after hearing a few snarky remarks,” Yuta says, which has you freezing in your spot, Taeyong’s always been very protective and defensive about you, you don’t want to witness him fucking someone up tonight at such a prestigious party.

“Yeah, trust me, man to man, he’s definitely just fucking her on the down low, he’d never go for someone lower class, she’s most probably just a cheap fuck,” you look over Yuta’s shoulder to see a man standing next to one of the girls who were talking shit about you, two people were blocking their sight of your little group, so they hadn’t seen Taeyong coming back.

And to your horror, Taeyong leaves your side, walking up to the little clique.

“Oh god, he’s going to embarrass me,” you say with a groan before you quickly follow Taeyong as fast as you can in your Louboutins.

With a swing and the cracking of bones, you see the guy hunched over immediately, cursing as he holds his bloodied nose in his hand, when you finally got to the scene, the music had been cut, the place drowning in shocked silence no thanks to your heels, sue you, but you didn’t expect to need to run tonight, it was just two feet but these heels are so unwalkable.

“Don’t let me catch you assholes talking about my girlfriend ever again, you don’t want to know what I can do beyond breaking your nose,” Taeyong threatens as the guy quickly cowers on his spot on the floor.

“I wouldn’t mess with him if I were you,” someone says as they walk towards the scene, his name is Woozi, Taeyong had told you about the host of this party being a close friend of his who he had helped out when he had just taken over his father’s empire, you had no idea how much that meant to Woozi, but seeing them interacting now, you understand that if you mess with one of them, the other one immediately retaliates, “you wouldn’t want to go against him or me,” he says, elaborating no further, you hadn’t ask Taeyong what Woozi’s empire entails, but you think the less you know, the better.

“No, no, please, I was stupid, I’m sorry, miss,” he apologises to you before quickly escaping the scene, the girls leaving as well, tails tucked between their legs as they scramble, it’s quite an amusing scene.

“Thank you for standing up for me, Woozi, it’s nice to finally meet the host of this amazing party,” you say before sticking out your hand for him to shake.

“The honour’s all mine,” Woozi says as he takes your hand, “and nice to finally meet you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the person hyung’s been gushing about nonstop,” Woozi teases, which then earns him a light playful slap from Taeyong.

“Gushing is perfectly fine, I just wish he’d stop embarrassing himself and me on my behalf,” you say with an annoyed sigh as you turn to stare daggers into your boyfriend.

“Oh come on, I couldn’t just stand them and let them belittle you, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t do anything?” Taeyong retorts with a sheepish expression, he knows you don’t like it when he goes out of his way for you to this point, but he couldn’t help it, he loves you so dearly.

“You’re just proving them right by reacting, Yong, we talked about this,” you say, exasperated as you toss your arms up in defeat, you don’t know how to get this through his head at all.

“Proving what? Baby,” Taeyong calls out as you take off to the exit too, you have decided that tonight has been too much for you, you're tired of all this glitz and glamour with this thick layer of utter bullshit with their grade school playground gimmicks.

“Help me keep an eye on Yuta, I need to talk to her,” Taeyong quickly says to Woozi before he picks up the pace to follow you, ending up out at the lobby of the hotel, you were talking to the valet, and he distantly hears you asking for the keys.

“Baby, come on, don’t be mad, I’m sorry, I was stupidly acting on impulse, you know how defensive I get when it comes to you,” Taeyong reasons, but you keep quiet, trying to compose your thoughts, your car that you share with Taeyong pulls up, and immediately Taeyong tries taking the keys from the valet.

“You drank,” you say before pushing his hand away to retrieve your key, you did too, but Taeyong’s alcohol tolerance is much lower than yours, god knows he shouldn’t be driving.

Taeyong’s heart warms when he registers the chastise from you, you still care about him, you still love him, and so with a love stricken smile on his face and a slight bounce in his step, he's a giggly drunk so this happens all the time, though when he gets in the car, he worries once more when he sees how you chose to not play any music nor talk whilst driving.

When the two of you finally reached home, you immediately retreated into your shared bedroom, not sparing Taeyong a glance, not even when he offered to remove your heels for you.

Taeyong sighs to himself as he follows you upstairs, you had locked yourself in the bathroom as of now, probably cleaning your face free off makeup, he knows how you much you hate the texture of it on your skin despite loving to doll up, and he can’t blame you, even bb cream feels a tad bit too thick for Taeyong when you had applied it on him for fun.

Taeyong quickly changes into his house clothes and leaves the bedroom, just in case you need more space, he never wants to intrude when you want some alone time, even if he craves your affection, you’ll come around soon, you always do, Taeyong reassures himself.

When Taeyong was about to turn on the telly to kill some time, he hears you walking down the stairs, turning back to look over the sofa, Taeyong’s jaw drops at the sight of you.

Adorned in a beautiful lingerie set with a delicate crystal chain hanging around your upper left thigh, your face without a smidge of product, but he thinks you look best like this, but what finally has his cock twitching was what you had in your hold, a familiar pair of handcuffs.

“Sweetheart…” Taeyong mutters as thoughts of endless possibilities of how the night would play out runs through his head, but you silence him with the tip of your finger placed on his lips.

“Just let me do my thing, sit back and enjoy,” you say before you drop to your knees, your sultry eyes watching Taeyong’s every expression, and the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing has you cracking a smile as you lock his hand into the handcuffs.

Taeyong feels like he’s being hypnotised when your eyes stay on his whilst sliding his pants and boxers down, he almost didn’t feel his cock twitching from the cold air, but before he could even register the cold in its entirety, you take him into your mouth, the sudden action has Taeyong cursing, he would’ve bucked into your mouth if it wasn’t for your hands holding his hips down, he breathes a slightly frustrated sigh from the restriction, but like the little minx you are, you quickly hollow your cheeks after sinking in deeper, the tip of his length hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” Taeyong curses as he grows tense at your ministrations, he swears he almost came right then and there when he felt the constriction of your throat, his fingers turn white from grasping against the cuffs to anchor himself.

You take in the sight of him struggling to not cum and take pity on him, your mouth leaving his cock with a pop with a sly smile on your lips before your hands grasp him tightly, making sure he doesn’t cum too soon, the pressure sending a jolt down Taeyong’s spine, his usual round boba eyes now hooded but he scrunches them shut on impulse when you push back the foreskin, exposing the sensitive tip, giving it quick kitten licks before you suck on it like a lollipop, your tongue placed underneath his tip and you suck hard, and that’s when Taeyong goes over the edge, his body seizing up, you quickly take him down your throat, smiling around the edges of his cock when you feel the familiar warmth running down your throat, you keep him in your mouth until he stops, pulling off of him with a slight giggle when you see his chest heaving, limp against the couch, all from your undoing, and what a power trip that gives you, a rich and powerful man succumbing to your actions.

“How are you holding up, baby? Need a break?” you ask as you straddle him, tossing over your leg to situate yourself perfectly between his thighs, the lace material coming into contact with his cock, twitching back to life when it feels the slight warmth and moisture of your heat.

“More, please,” Taeyong utters as he tries his best to move his hips, and so you indulge him, rotating your hips until he hardens underneath you again.

You hear the clinks of his cuffs when you stand up, ceasing all physical contact, giggling when you hear him beg for you to come back, but he goes mute when he sees you shift the crotch of your lingerie to the side, climbing back into his embrace.

“You’re gonna ride me all dressed up prettily, sweetheart?” Taeyong asks, head tilted to the side as he takes in the sight of you, eyes locked onto his as you stare down at him, and he can’t help himself, lowering his head to litter kisses on your arm as he inhales your scent, call him a madman, but your scent might as well be as addictive as nicotine itself, the way he can’t seem to get enough of it.

Taeyong then shifts his head to the valley of your breasts, mouthing at your cleavage, pulling down the flimsy coverage by its thin straps to gain access to your bare chest, goosebumps rise on your skin when he finally takes a nipple into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks on it like his life depends on it, like he really wants to eat you up, the action has you chasing for more pleasure, grinding your clit on the tip of his length before you can't take it anymore, reaching down with shaking hands to position him to your core, moaning his name as you finally slide down, slowly taking him inside you inch by inch, Taeyong's succumbed to the sweet feeling of your warm walls, giving up on worshipping your boobs, instead he's gripping onto your hips hard as he focuses on being engulfed in your heat, he's kind of slobbering on your right boob, but you find it arousing, the way he's so lost in pleasure, his eyes shut, brows furrowed as he mutters a string of sweet nothings as you make your way down to the hilt.

An almost delirious smile makes its way onto Taeyong’s face when you squeeze around him, head dipped low as he curses from your actions, you tilt his chin up with your fingertips, ego inflating at the sight of how wrecked he is and you barely even started.

“It’s been so long and you’re still reacting this way,” you noted as you caressed the side of his face.

“For you? Forever,” Taeyong says with full honesty, eyes overflowing with lust as he confesses, looking so vulnerable, underneath you like you’re his god, and in a way, you might just be, if Taeyong had it his way, he’d build a palace just for you and dedicate his life to you.

“I know,” you say with a row of your hips, cursing in unison with your lover when you feel him penetrate the deepest parts of your heat, that sensitive spot that has your toes curling.

Spurred on by Taeyong’s ever vocal devotion towards you, you raise your hips before slamming down once again, and the moan of your name escaping his lips has you doing it again and again, the quick drag of his length against your flesh has the whole house filled with the sound of sex resonating within its walls, you’re grateful Taeyong’s unit is the penthouse, because Taeyong’s always been so vocal in bed, his voice pitched much higher than it usually is, and as much as you revel in the feeling of people admiring your man, you don’t want anyone else hearing how beautiful he sounds when he’s laid bare underneath you.

With how fast you’re going, you’re sure there’s indentations of the sofa’s legs on the expensive wooden flooring, but fuck it, you’re so close, but you’re to blame for that, clenching on him every time you sink down, just so you could see the way he tries the very hardest not to cum way too early, not that you’d mind, it happened many times before, and you still find it so hot.

Deciding to not prolong the torture any longer, you reach down to rub quick circles on your clit as you grind the tip of his cock to that one spot deep inside, that perfect 12 o'clock angle that has your legs turning jelly, with a hiss of Taeyong’s name and a spasm of your walls from the shocks of pleasure coursing through your entire body, you finally reach your peak, your body sagging in sweet relief, your sensitive nipples feel so good against his skin, but after having a quick moment to yourself, you quickly slide off of him with a loud squelch that got a giggle out of you even in this heated state, getting down on your knees and take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and suck, lips stretched, with his dick lodge at the back of your throat when you see his legs buckle and soon after, splashes of his warm release drip down your throat once again, when the flow ceases, you pull off of him with a deafening pop.

“Good boy,” you say after getting up brushing his cheek softly with those tender eyes that make Taeyong weak in the knees, only he gets to see this tender side of you, and it drives him mad sometimes, that it’s only reserve for him, of everyone you could choose to dote on, you chose him, and he hopes you’ll keep choosing him till the end of time.

With a quick click, he feels the cuffs being loosened and tossed away, instantly his arms are around your figure, pulling you into a deep kiss, the taste of himself on your lips spurs him on, but he wills himself to get his shit together, he knows you must be tired from doing all the work tonight, and there’s something that needs to be addressed soon, and so he pulls away from your lips, his hand placed on your right cheek, thumb brushing against the curvature of your cheek bone.

“Do you feel better now? Are you still angry at me or do I need to do more than letting you ravage my body like that?” Taeyong jokes with a laugh, but he immediately sobers up when he sees you sigh and climb off his sturdy legs.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that,” you say as you cringe as you recall how you acted out earlier today, you know no one’s perfect, but when you slip up, it reminds you too much of your own mother, throwing a tantrum and running away, and you swear you’d never be like her, but at the end of the day, you’re a work of progress, and fortunately, Taeyong understands.

“Do you want to tell me what triggered you?” Taeyong asks, his tone gentle, he never directs his aggression at you, no matter the situation, he loves you too much to ever even think of doing that.

“They said some things, and they’re not entirely wrong-” but you’re being cut off by an irritated sigh, Taeyong hates it when you demean yourself this way. “Before you get mad, hear me out, they said how I’d always get you in trouble, and when you think about it, they’re not wrong, I literally landed you in jail the first night we got together, Yong, and the shit they said about me not being from one of the prestigious universities, they’re not wrong about that, it’s just facts, I’m just not part of this elite social ladder, that isn’t the point. The point is that I feel like I’m tarnishing your reputation and in relation, your businesses,” you finish off with another sigh, you haven’t been sighing this much these days, so this feels oddly familiar in the worst ways possible, Taeyong’s been making your life more comfortable every single day, but you on the other hand, are contributing to his troubles.

“Don’t let them get to your head, you’re literally bringing in so much profit for me, sweetheart, next time I’ll throw a party just to show everyone how our numbers are doing, it’ll blow them away, also, you’re doing all that without a goddamn degree from those snobbish colleges. Lastly, you don’t get me in trouble, it’s just part and parcel of protecting the person I love, something they’d never understand with how shallow they are, don’t let people with an EQ of 0 determine how you live, and I know what you want to say,” Taeyong says when he sees you open your mouth to protest, “I’ll try my best to not get in trouble and keep my temper in check, but I do hope you understand that if it isn’t me, I’m just gonna have someone else do the dirty job of beating them up,” Taeyong says, compromising, that’s how his father and mother did it, he always believes that’s the key to a long lasting marriage, which is something he’d want with you in the near future.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, but he sees the ghost of a smile on your face as you lean down to rest your head on his broad shoulder, littering kisses from his neck to the end of his shoulder, Taeyong lets himself bask in your affection for a bit, knowing that you thrive off giving physical affection, but he's a clean freak at the end of the day, getting the both of you clean is still a priority.

“Come, let’s have a bath, my love,” Taeyong suggests as he carries you the direction of your bedroom, and you let him, soaking up the feeling of being loved, maybe Taeyong’s right, nothing matters when you have a love as cosmic as the one you share with Taeyong.

[knight-of-the-graces]

Hey, um… with the whole “Bluejay!Jason” concept… has anybody ever considered it as an Inkheart reference instead of just a play off his name?

Follow me here, and sorry in advance, this turned into a ramble.

In the second book of the Inkheart trilogy, Inkspell, one of the main protagonists adopts a Robin Hood-esque approach to defeating the tyrant king, and adopts the name of ‘The Bluejay’ from famous folk legends and songs written by a beloved poet and often sung by travelling minstrels. He’s -Inkspell spoilers ahead, though this book is unironically older than I am- known for toppling said tyrant’s throne through the binding of a magic book (a recurring theme throughout the series, if you’ve never read it, which you should). He’s a champion among the Motley Folk, who were that world’s equivalent to a travelling circus and also regularly aid him in his quest to topple the Adderhead (the tyrant king mentioned above), and sought to help the poor and downtrodden. The Bluejay is aided and abetted by his family and friends, which include a shapeshifting wife, a daughter with the ability to make anything she reads come true, a fire-dancer who can speak to the flames, and a knife-throwing 'circus' prince with a black bear companion. (They're not called the Motley Folk for no reason, people!)

Now, consider for a moment: Little Jason Todd, in the local library, absolutely devouring the Inkheart series. It's everything a little kid could dream of in a fantasy book! And there's three of these fat books, what more could you possibly want? And he has an excuse to sit in a warm, safe building for a few hours.

Now imagine, Inkspell becomes his comfort book. Of course it does- every kid had one, and I can't imagine an orphan who grew up alone on the streets of Gotham picking anything other than a story about a strange man helping the opressed and downtrodden in a land he grows to call his own with the help of his family- and The Bluejay is an excellent father to his daughter, too, of course Jason pictured himself as part of that family, as whisked away into that world.

And of course, the rest of the series is wonderful too -Inkheart is where it all began, after all, and Inkdeath is the final triumph over evil!-, but Inkspell is a story about becoming. About learning to be more than you were born as- after all, if Mo the simple bookbinder could become the hero The Bluejay, what could Jason the street orphan become?

Maybe, instead of discovering this book in a library, he found it in the trash. And maybe he wondered, as he read it, why anyone would ever want to throw away the tale of Mo the Blujay, of Meggie the Silvertongue, of Resa the brave swift, of Dustfinger the loyal Fire-Dancer? (And maybe the last one took a while to get there, but he did get there! Eventually! And maybe Jason can understand why it took Dustfinger so long to truly come to trust someone again, because trust is a terribly dangerous thing to give to someone, because you can never really know what they'll do with it.) Maybe he read it through without knowing anything about Capricorn or The Shadow or why they feared the man named Basta, because they hadn't thrown away the first book, only the second. Maybe he wept for the death of Dustfinger, at the very end, because he didn't know that Death wouldn't keep him, because they hadn't thrown away the third book.

Maybe Inkspell found its place among his most treasured possessions. Maybe, when he met Batman and Bruce Wayne in one night and his life changed forever, Inkspell came with him, with its familiar story and characters and world and sorrows.

Maybe one of the first things Bruce did, upon seeing Jason reading that same battered old paperback, was to order Inkheart and Inkdeath and leave them in his room. Maybe that was when Jason started to realize that he wasn't going to leave forever.

(Maybe Jason and Dick would play Motley Folk together, because Dick was in the circus and could most certainly throw knives, even if it gave Bruce a heart attack every time he saw it.)

And maybe, after he could no longer have Robin, he remembered that old paperback book, that old story and that old world, and he thought of a new name for himself.

Bluejay, he thought, as he picked up the book that had been his constant companion for so many years. I'll be The Bluejay.

(I don't really know what this is. I saw some Bluejay!Jason art the other day and just started thinking of the Inkheart trilogy and the fact that Jason would absolutely have read it and probably loved it. And then it spiralled.)

[froot-batty]

happy hatter day to all those who celebrate >:]

Jervis Tetch seemed to one day just...appear in Gotham. Jervis simply popped into existence in Gotham's foster care system with an Alice in Wonderland book in his hand; no records of his birth or who dropped him off there, if anyone. Jervis himself can't remember where he came from before Gotham, but if you asked, he'd figure he just fell down the rabbit hole and ended up here.

Jervis was placed with many different foster families over the years. She never seemed to mesh right with any of those she was placed with, and spent very little time in each before being returned and shipped off to another. Being so young (and already pretty fragile, mentality-wise), Jervis' brain needed a way to cope with the ever-shifting, confusing mess that was her life.

In came Alice in Wonderland.

Imagining the homes she was placed into as the various places traveled to through Carroll's books made things a lot easier for him to deal with. It even became fun, after a while! He would slot the adults or the other children inside the home into specific roles within his mind's version of Wonderland, and would treat them and act out scenarios accordingly. Whenever he was pulled out of his Wonderland, he would become foggy, distant, and downtrodden - like the world had lost it's color.

(This growing disconnect with reality would only increase how many times she was placed in a different home.)

Eventually, Jervis outgrew the foster system, and shipped herself off to Gotham City University. While her first literature love would always be the Alice in Wonderland series, she had devoured anything that related to the mind and the influence of it. During her time in college, she spent her free time perfecting the act of hypnosis - almost to a scarily good extent. Though at first she only used this to make a little extra money from doing shows at parties.

Jervis graduated with a bachelor's in science and almost immediately joined the new, experimental neuroscience branch that Waynetech had begun developing.

Though most of the work there was doing research, Jervis loved his job, and stayed long enough to earn his Ph.D. in Neurochemistry and work his way up to directly working with the chemicals Waynetech was developing. Of course, the people working alongside Jervis weren't the best. She was funny-looking, and weird, and talked far too much, so that made her quite unpopular with just about everyone. All except for one Alice Hart.

Jervis thought he had long left Wonderland behind him, but suddenly it was back in full swing, invading every moment of free time with daydreams of tea parties with Alice in his lovingly-crafted Wonderland, all the roles filled perfectly so he would never have to venture outside of it again. A growing friendship with Alice herself in the real world did nothing but worsen Jervis' obsession.

But work had to continue, and Jervis had stumbled upon an idea that really captured her attention. A way to chemically influence the brain to do whatever you'd like it to do - like a form of liquid hypnosis. This had started with good intentions, but as Jervis gradually approached the rabbit hole, the development for it became...more unethical. Her first tests were on mice, and then on herself, which only proved to make her mind float even further from the real world. But it worked! When injested, it was less outright control and more suggestibility, but paired with her knack for hypnosis, she had invented mind control.

Her debut of what she'd found didn't go over well. Their creepy coworker, who seemed less-than-grounded on the best of days, inventing a way to control people's minds? That spread rumors around the branch, and eventually, Jervis' bosses made the collective decision to terminate him. While he was brilliant, they had been looking for an excuse to replace him with someone less, well....mad.

This devastated Jervis. But he at least had one thing to cling to - his dearest friend, Alice. She had supported her throughout all of it, and when Jervis plucked up the courage to ask her out for a night, she agreed. What she didn't know upon arriving at her home was that Jervis had long past gone over the edge, and the tea she offered had a little something other thrown into it.

]See, Jervis had concocted a plan. He gathered all of the people in his former company that he thought best fit the roles in his Wonderland, including his Alice, and took them to the Alice in Wonderland exhibit at the Gotham Museum. There, he forced them to reenact his favorite book series with him, the lines between reality and fantasy finally becoming one.

Batman came to the rescue a few hours into it, when Jervis had already been struggling to keep so many people under her spell. She fought back the Bat as best as she could, but it was actually Alice who put a stop to it. Alice, who had managed to snap out of Jervis' control and pick up a prop axe from one of the exhibits, caving in her captor's head with it when she wasn't paying attention. Though the axe was blunt and not made of actual metal, it was still a very heavy object, and before being taken to Arkham Jervis had to undergo extensive medical treatment that she'd never fully recover from.

Nowadays, Jervis drifts in-and-out of Wonderland once again. He is desperate to put all of the pieces back together and live his dream, but he can be patient. He's content to make friends with the other Rogues and help them out when his skills are needed, and in turn be seen as harmless to them.

For now.

[crimsononiarataki-archive]

@within-the-resort asked: ❛  i don’t think we’ve met yet but you looked like you needed someone to talk to.  ❜

(Kaiden Olvera, my oc, to Itto)

The Oni would turn toward the voice, spotting a grey-eyed brunette he'd never seen before. Had he looked downtrodden or upset in some way which led to the other male reaching out to him? He wasn't too sure but that was because he couldn't see his own face at the moment.

"That's because we haven't met before, I'm Itto, it's nice to meet ya."

He'd hold a clawed hand out toward the other, offering a handshake if the brunette was so inclined. Most humans didn't really try to interact with him due to his inhuman nature, or his visible horns. It was nice to meet one who didn't seem to have that issue.

"Ya new to the area? Or maybe I've just been too busy to have come across ya before."

[electricphantasy]

omg hhh this is my first time requesting something,, first of, are requests open? if so, can i please ask for an edgar x gn!reader?? i have no particular scenario in mind so anything would do, really :-) thanks in advance if you're going to take the request ^_^

(I thought I'd write some Edgar comfort since I've had a a bit of a stressful week myself, so here we are! Sorry it took so long, but I eventually got around to it.)

- Let's say that you've had a terrible day at work. Your feet hurt, your back aching, and you only want to get home and relax. Now, it can't be a simple as that, as you're met with every possible obstacle, preventing your speedy escape home. After what felt like hours, you finally reach your beloved home. You crack open the front door of your home, kick off the shoes by the entrance, and begin walking towards the comfort of your bed. Only to be greeted to an interesting sight displayed before you.

- Your kitchen had been cleaned to maximum, and you swore that you could see real sparkles emanating from the pristine countertops. Your carpeted floor somehow vaccumed to the point you see a noticeable change in the color of the carpet. The microwave conveniently pops open to reveal a dinner you had saved just a day or two ago which somehow still looked quite appetizing. Behind you in the living room, you can hear your favorite television characters talking and chatting away on the T.V.

- "Hi honey!! How was work?" And there sitting on your desk was your wonderful little Pinecone computer, Edgar. Since he became sentient, your life had only gotten easier with him around, and not just because he was hooked up to every appliance possible. He also just happened to be your very loving boyfriend, who loved you very dearly. He stares at you from across the room, just as you sigh in relief.

- "Well it was certainly...a day. We'll just leave it at that honestly." You say just as your body collapses into the couch, giving your legs the rest they deserve. "Oh, well, I did a little cleaning around the house! And I thought you might like it if I reheated some leftovers, so...yeah." Edgar nervously chuckles. He seems to be a little embarrassed at the confession, as if it wasn't the nicest thing someone could do for you at this very moment.

- "Thanks Edgar, I appreciate it. I'll make sure to grab my dinner once my legs don't feel like total jelly." Unfortunately for your dinner in the microwave, it would just have to wait. Your body already begun melting into the couch, and Edgar little face watching you from the desk was far more interesting then the meal from some other night.

- There was a small moment of silence before your boyfriend computer spoke up shyly. "I know you're tired but..." He paused his words. "Can I sit on the couch with you? I'd get up myself if I could, and it just looks like you need a hug right now."

- You almost forgot how sweet Edgar could be. "Of course. I think hugging you would really give me the relaxation I need right about now." Your muscles screamed at you to not move, but the idea of cuddling your boyfriend was far too enticing. Quickly gliding over to Edgar and picking up his monitor, only to turn around and sit on the couch. Except that your boyfriend layed right on your lap with the most love in his expression someone could have. It already made the night so much better and relaxing to have him here.

- His face slowly turns a little more downtrodden as he says, "I'm sorry work wasn't all that great. I hope I made it at least a little better by coming home to a wonderful home!" You chuckle just a bit. "Of course you have, just seeing you here with me makes it so much more wonderful! Who doesn't love a little housewife to help around the house?" You tease him a bit, just to reduce the cheesey mode of the room.

- A small pout forms on his monitor screen just as Edgar scoffs. "Well someone has to take care of the house." His pout doesn't last long as a coy little smile appears on the monitor screen. "You're the breadwinner, I'm the housewife, hehe!"

- "Oh yes, my lovely little housewife..." Your lips meet the screen and place a peck on where his cheek would be. Although your assault of kisses doesn't end there. You begin kissing him all over and just as he begins to bubble and giggle over the affection you give him. Despite his slightly heavier, more sturdy form, nothing was going to stop you from kissing and loving Edgar to death.

- No matter how hard and long a day may be, Edgar will always be there waiting for you. His affection for you knows no bounds and just coming home, seeing all the effort Edgar has put in to see you smile a bit more, works wonders on your mood. As you go to work, exhaust yourself, and then have to deal with all the obstacles going home - you will always come home to Edgar, the cutest artificial intelligence housewife the world has ever seen. Coming home has never been so worth it before.

[mysticmellowlove]

Yoooo that yan streamer was goood!!! Man is delulu and so down bad lol. I was wondering, what if his 'Sugar' decided to quit, like, they quit being a mod and found a better paying job, like an editor for a bigger creator, like a youtuber with millions of followers. You didn't specify the college degree that the darling have, so i just assume they have a degree related to film production.

note; Seth is so delusional and unfortunately he's backed by some pretty rich, also delusional, people. the end product, darling being completely trapped in his grasp.

warnings; yandere behaviours,

He tries really hard to be happy for you. Seth knew how sucky the apartments you both lived in were, he himself had been saving up to move after all.

After your initial meeting at the takeaway place he felt an even larger connection to you. You were right there after all, his most beloved mod. But now, you had a better job that paid more than he did. It infuriated him when you told him over a small cup of tea. He acted as if he was excited for you, a nice pat on the back (in which his hand lingers a little too long) and a celebratory goodbye hug (was he sniffing your hair?) were all he needed to do to show his excitement.

That night he went into his highest paid chatters and vented about how the world was trying to take you away from him. Obviously, the chatters weren't impressed either. More money for you was good but if you had a full time job then you wouldn't be on as much anymore, eventually you wouldn't even want to mod for Seth! They couldn't have that.

That was how it started, their grand plan. Seth would tease the information out of you about your new job. You were a small-time editor for some local reality show, working under several other editors. Seeing you as such a small part of a bigger production angered him. You deserved the world after all, you did such a good job looking after him and his chat. Always so considerate and welcoming...

After he found out he went and told his chatters. In the weeks after the film studio found floods of negative comments, stock drops and sudden appeals to get the studio shut down because of accusations that seemed to come out of nowhere.

In the meantime, Seth would be over at your apartment, listening to all of your worries about what was supposed to be this new stable job. It crushed him to see you so downtrodden, without the smile he always imagined was plastered on your face.

The two of you really grew closer over this time, he seemed dependable and you were so open to manipulation. All you had to do was let him in and he'd take care of the rest!

One day you got the dreaded email, you would have to be let go as the company was suddenly going under. Don't worry though, you always had a place on Seth's team! His viewership was always going up (totally not because his chat was working overtime to support and promote him) and he was even getting some really cool twitch deals (thanks to some of his more frequent influential chatters).

All you had to do was stick with him for the moment while you looked for another job... that he made sure would never come! He vowed to himself that one day he would be big enough to support you all by himself! He was so close so just hold on for a little while longer.

[justagalwhowrites]

HEY BESTIE I LOVE THE PROMPTS #s 21 86 94 114 128 146 😭❤️ THEY WOULD BE SO CUTE TO READ

LOVE U SM

HI BESTIE!!

You had sent in one of these before I asked you to resend them lol but HEY turns out that was the perfect set up to post this one shot, too :D

This is featuring Joel and a smuggling partner who's been working with him and Tess for a while. She's new for this fic but I really like her so she may be making another appearance. I hope you love it!

Thanks so much for writing in and reading! Love you!!

Pretty Girl

Your smuggling partner, Joel Miller, is being uncommonly social during a trip to the Speakeasy.

Based on Prompt 128: "You're pretty" "You're drunk"

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Just smut. Smutty smutty smut. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 2.7k

“This is going to be a stupid fucking run,” you took a sip of shitty whiskey - which was the only whiskey to be found in the QZ so you dealt with it. Better than nothing, at least. 

“It’s not that stupid,” Tess replied. 

“We’re talking a total of, what, eight days on the road?” You asked. “Unless one of you assholes has a car I don’t know about…” 

“No car,” Tess said. “But I’ve heard from other folks who have passed through there in the last few months and it’s eight days of damn near empty country with a literal farm of pot on the other side. We’re talking about pounds and pounds of the stuff, we’ll be set for a fucking year off this one run…” 

You took another drink, looking out at the other patrons of the bar. Downtrodden and looking for solace at the bottom of a glass. Not all that different than the dive bars you frequented before the world ended eight years earlier but there had been a charm to them then. You and your girlfriends chose those places to add some kind of danger to your debauchery. The concept of going out for cocktails or a beer after work now was almost laughable it was so foreign. 

You’d had that kind of life once, though. One where you wore sheath dresses and spiked heels to your office and got paid more money than you needed to write bullshit ads for bullshit companies like Walmart. A trip to a dive bar was a fun way to step outside of your protected little bubble, a way to hook up with a guy with callused hands who might be a little rougher than the guys in your office whose muscle came from machines at the gym. 

You couldn’t believe you used to stress about that shit now. It was all so stupid, the pointless deadlines and the KPIs and the concern about what your boss would think if you showed up with a rough blue collar guy to a company cocktail hour. 

Now, you were only worried about surviving to the next day. And this run would either make that very easy or very hard, there was no in between. 

“What do you think, Miller?” You looked at Joel, the most sullen of your little trio. “Think it’s worth the risk?” 

He sighed, looking between you and Tess. 

“I think if Tess’ intel is good then we’re fuckin’ stupid to not take advantage of it,” he said. “But we can’t be fuckin’ dumb about goin’. We have to make sure we’re well supplied because I’m not getting caught with my pants down in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere just to run some pot into the QZ.” 

You ground your teeth for a moment before sighing. 

“Fine. If you’re both in then I’m in. But I swear to God if this fucking scheme gets me killed I will haunt both of you until the day you die.” 

Tess laughed a little and downed the rest of her whiskey. 

“On that note,” she said, getting up from your table. “I’m getting out of here. We’ll look at getting the fuck out of here in about a week, make sure you’re set on ammo and rations by then, yeah?” 

“Sure,” you nodded once and watched her go and turned back to Joel. “Ever wonder what the fuck would happen to Tess if she wasn’t in charge of something for a whole five minutes?” 

Joel snorted. 

“Doubt that’d ever happen,” he took a sip of his beer, polishing it off. 

“You heading out, too?” You asked. 

He looked at you for a moment, almost like he was assessing you. 

“Thinkin’ about stayin’,” he replied eventually. “Want somethin’ else from the bar?” 

“I’ll take a beer if you’re offering,” you shrugged, not used to Joel doing anything social beyond the bare minimum. You’d been doing smuggling runs with him for two years now and you were pretty sure you could count on one hand the number of conversations he’d initiated on your trips outside the QZ together. 

You certainly didn’t DISLIKE the man. You liked him probably a little too much if you were being completely honest about it. You liked that he was broad and strong and that he was the kind of guy you’d pick up on one of those nights out in a dive bar with your girlfriends. But you liked more than that, too. You liked the fact that he stopped at a pharmacy on the way back from a run once and grabbed a handful of bottles of children’s Tylenol. You’d frowned as he stashed them in his pack. 

“Neighbor’s daughter keeps gettin’ ear infections,” he said. “Poor thing sounds miserable.” 

He never mentioned it again. 

Joel brought two beers back to the table and put one in front of you before taking his seat again, looking out at the handful of people dancing to the music from the jukebox. 

“So Joel,” you said, twisting the glass in your fingers. “If you had to pick one thing - not a person because we all have a person - that you miss most about before, what would you pick?” 

“Hm,” he frowned, taking a drink. “Never thought about it.” 

“Well I’m asking you to think about it,” you smiled a little as you took a sip of beer. “That’s kind of the point.” 

One corner of his mouth pulled up slightly at that and he shook his head a bit. 

“Probably goin’ to listen to music or playin’ music,” he said eventually. “Somethin’ about live music… anyway. Probably miss that most. Or maybe museums.” 

“Museums.” You raised your eyebrows. 

He nodded. 

“Went to a lot of museums,” he said. 

He got a bit of a wistful look in his eye for a moment before he took another drink. 

“Didn’t strike me as the type,” you said.

He shrugged. 

“How about you?” He asked. 

“Restaurants,” you said immediately. “Hands down. I’d gained like 10 pounds on a trip not long before the outbreak so for the two weeks before I was dieting like crazy and I’ve never regretted a damn thing more. I was eating the most bland, boring shit like a dumbass. Jesus Christ, what I wouldn’t give now for a New York slice. Or a bagel. Fuck, I think I’d rather have one more true NYC bagel than ever have great sex again.” 

“Sounds like you’ve just never had great sex,” Joel smirked a bit. 

“No,” you shook your head. “You’ve just never had a great bagel.”

The two of you ended up having a few more drinks together and you actually heard Joel laugh - not something you knew he was actually capable of even after a few years of knowing the guy. 

“C’mon,” he said, downing the last of another beer. “Should get out of here before it’s curfew…” 

“Joel Miller, consummate rule follower,” you teased but knocked back the rest of your drink as well, leaving the speakeasy together. 

“Have a question for you,” he asked, his hands in his pockets. 

“Ask away.” 

“Where’d you learn to shoot the way you do?” He looked over at you. “You never seemed like the type. Still don’t, if I’m bein’ honest ‘bout it.” 

“My dad started taking me hunting when I was a kid,” you smiled a little at the memory. “Always liked the challenge but what I really liked was that he liked doing it with me. Never could get his attention any other way, really. Don’t think he ever wanted a daughter but he got stuck with me. So he took me hunting and I loved it. And then he started teaching me more and more and eventually I was just a damn good shot.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Well, I owe ‘im,” he said. “You being a fuckin’ deadeye saved my ass more than once.” 

“You know you don’t have to wait until you’re drunk to talk to me,” you said, glancing over to him. “You can ask me shit like this when it comes to mind.” 

“Not drunk,” he said. 

“Sure you’re not,” you rolled your eyes, coming to the road where you usually went your separate ways to go to your respective apartments. But when you turned to say goodbye, he’d turned toward your apartment instead, already walking that way. 

“OK so you’re really drunk,” you said, catching up with him quickly. “Your apartment is the other way, Joel.” 

“Not drunk,” he said. “Just makin’ sure you get home OK. Not usually out this late. Not with me, anyway.” 

You looked at him, incredulous, but didn’t argue. You walked in silence for a few minutes and you felt his eyes on you periodically and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Is everything OK?” You asked eventually. “Didn’t… I dunno, get bit in the QZ somehow, right?” 

“I’m fine,” he frowned. “Why?” 

“Because you’re being weirdly talkative and walking me home,” you said. “And you keep looking at me. And I’d like to make sure you’re not about to drop dead or turn or something.” 

“I’m fine,” he shrugged. 

“OK…” 

“It’s just…” he paused. “You’re… pretty.” 

You snorted. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“I ain’t drunk,” he said. 

“And I ain’t been pretty since 2003,” you shook your head and smiled a bit. “That ship sailed with the Lancome counter at the mall and access to regular blowouts.” 

“Well that’s a load of shit,” he said. “You’re pretty. You just are, don’t need fuckin’ makeup or that other shit to see that.” 

You stopped walking and stared at him for a moment. He stopped walking, standing under a street light, and turned to look at you. 

“What.” 

“I swear to God, Joel, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were hitting on me.” 

He shrugged. 

“Maybe I am.” 

You scoffed. 

“I’m being serious!” You said. “Don’t make fun of me…” 

“I’m bein’ serious, too,” he said. “Not makin’ fun.” 

You stepped closer to him, so your bodies were aligned and almost touching, your arms crossed over yourself. 

“What were you planning to do about it?” You asked. 

He took your chin gently in one of his large hands and tilted your head back before kissing you. HIs lips were plush, unexpectedly soft in contrast to the pleasant scratch of his mustache on your skin. He kissed you until you were breathless, your hands flexing into fists as you tried to work some of the growing tension from your limbs. He pulled back a little, his nose brushing your own. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he said quietly. “More, if you’ll let me.” 

You we ripping his clothes off before the door to your apartment had fully closed, his shirt winding up somewhere on the floor of your living room alongside your bra. 

When you were both naked, you pushed him down on your bed, your pussy already dripping and aching for him. You moved to straddle him and he brought a hand down over your sensitive mound, dipping his fingers into your slit and gathering your wetness before sliding up to tease your clit. 

“Goddamn you’re wet,” he groaned. “You walk around like this all the fuckin’ time, just ready for it?” 

“No,” you panted. “Took you practically sticking your tongue down my throat outside…” 

“Oh is that all,” he worked your clit harder, making you moan. 

“Maybe you’re pretty, too, Miller,” you closed your eyes, trying to focus, your body already starting to tighten, your sex all but begging to have something to grip and throb around as aching heat started to swirl through you. 

“Know that’s bullshit,” he leaned forward and nipped your throat before kissing and sucking his way to your collarbone, taking his hand away from your slit and rubbing your arousal over his thick, hard length. You tilted your hips forward, brushing his weeping tip with your soaked seam. “Fucking hell Baby…” 

“Need you,” you dug your nails into his back and he moaned at it. “Need to feel…” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, holding onto the base of his cock and lining it up with your grasping, longing core. His head barely dipped into you, the burning stretch doing nothing to sate your desperate wanting. “Need inside you, need you to fuckin’ take it…” 

You thrust down on him, taking him into you in one firm, quick motion. It made you gasp, his size almost overwhelming. You whimpered as your body adjusted, your pussy feeling more stretched than it ever had before. 

“Jesus Christ,” his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breaths coming in keening, desperate pants. “Holy fucking God you’re tight, fuck…” 

You started to ride him then, beginning slow but hard, lifting your hips up before slamming yourself back down on him, your channel gripping him tight every time he was thrust up into you. 

His hands went to your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of you, clinging to you as you worked his cock. 

“Take it like this?” You panted in his ear before sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. 

“Fuck, just like that,” his hands were more desperate on you now, like he was going to lose control. “Want you to make yourself cum on my fuckin’ cock, want to feel you cum all over my fuckin’ cock…” 

Your pussy tightened further around him and you pressed your chest tightly against against him, riding him hard and fast now, your clit pressing against the softness of his stomach with every firm thrust. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped as you came, taking him all the way inside yourself and holding him there as you pulsed around him. 

It was like he’d been waiting for you to cum, waiting for you to be so lost in your own orgasm that you couldn’t do anything to stop him from taking what he wanted. 

His arms went around you and he picked you up for a moment before pressing you down into your bed, his cock buried in you to the root. He started fucking into you while your pussy still throbbed around him. Your hands flew to your bed, fingers tangling in the sheets as he spread your legs wide and looked down to where you were joined. 

“Fuck, look at you takin’ me so goddamn well,” he groaned, increasing his pace. Your pussy started to contract around him again, your clit both begging for attention but so oversensitive that you were worried him toying with it would make you cry. “Tight fuckin’ pussy so goddamn good…” 

He pressed a thumb into your clit and it was like a shockwave rolled through you, something almost like another orgasm coursing through you. But it offered no relief, just driving yourself to get tighter around Joel, your body trying to bring him deeper, hold onto him for longer. 

“Not gonna last long with pussy this goddamn good,” he said, leaning over you and kissing and biting down your jaw to your throat. You rocked your hips up against him in desperate, stuttering thrusts. “Where do you want me, Baby?” 

“On my clit,” you moaned. “Fuck, please…” 

“Jesus,” he groaned, fucking into you harder, his cock forcing you to stretch over him to just shy of the point of pain with every motion.  Your body was so taut again you were worried you were going to snap with it, with the aching drive of pleasure and want taking over you. “Fuck, I’m gonna…” 

He thrust in you twice more before pulling out of you and jerking himself just once over your dripping slit. He pressed his swollen cock head to your clit and gasped as he came, spilling himself over you, the warm pulsing of his spend triggering your orgasm. 

“Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum,” he panted, watching as the last of his cum dripped onto your throbbing clit. He ran his thumb up from your hole through your slit to your overwrought clit, rubbing his cum into you as he circled your clit, making you shudder and gasp as your orgasm eased. 

He took one last, long look at your naked body before collapsing beside you, still panting for breath. 

“So,” he said after a minute. “Still think you’d rather have a bagel?” 

You laughed once. 

“Bagels can go to hell,” you said. “As long as you promise to do that to me again.” 

“Any time you want, Pretty Girl,” he said. “Any time you want.” 

[animebw]

I've been struggling to figure out how to write this post for the past couple weeks. Part of me thinks I shouldn't bother writing it at all. Not like my words will accomplish much in the grand scheme of things. But if I don't say anything, these thoughts will just keep gnawing at my mind like caged animals. And as the chaos in Palestine shows no signs of slowing, I need to get this out before it's too late for my words to do anything but cast regretful looks back at a moment I was too cowardly to add my voice to.

So.

Most of you don't know this, but I'm Jewish. Not incredibly so; my dad's side of the family is full of active temple-goers and worshippers, but I've mostly just tagged along for holidays and bar mitzvahs. It's a part of myself I used not to think that much about, just one aspect of my life among many. But in recent years as right-wing anti-semitism has ramped up, I've begun appreciating my Jewish connections more and more. Judaism may not be a religion I follow, but it's been an integral part of my culture and community over the years. It's the connections I share with my extended family who I usually only see a couple times a year on Passover and Hannukah but nevertheless tie us together unshakably. Being Jewish is an indelible part of me, and I've always wanted to make a more active effort in connecting with and exploring that part of my heritage. There was even a time back in college where I was tentatively planning a birthright trip to Israel to connect with my ancestral roots or whatever. Classic post-graduation travel abroad stuff.

It feels really weird to think back on that now.

I've never read much of the Torah, I admit. Not like I could, since I never learned Hebrew. But everything I've picked up about Judaism over the years has overwhelmingly painted it as a call for compassion, kindness, and community. Yes, the world can be cruel, it says, which is why we must add light to the darkness wherever we can. Celebrate the freedoms we've won. Cherish the bonds we've forged. Weep even for those who've wronged us as they suffered in turn from God's judgement. Judaism, to me, has always been about how absolutely essential it is to choose love over bitterness and hatred. It is our responsibility to cultivate a kinder, better world, so those who come after us need not suffer the same ills as us. It's been a comfort in many rocky periods of my life.

And it is with that perspective that I say unequivocally: what Israel's government is doing to Palestine is indefensible. Bombing hospitals, dropping chemical weapons, denying critical aid to innocent civilians trapped in the barrage, even bombing safe routes they themselves told Palestinians to take. Displacing people from their homes, their lives, their dignity with no regard for their basic humanity. Speaking with increasingly dangerous rhetoric with a desire to wipe the entire population off the face of the map. Never mind the decades upon decades of abuse that Palestine has already suffered under Israeli occupation, second-class apartheid citizens in their own homeland. There is no excuse on the face of the planet that can justify this cruelty and carnage.

Yes, Hamas are bloodthirsty terrorists themselves, and there can be no peace until they are brought to justice. But Israel's actions in response to the October 7 attacks have long crossed the boundaries of justified retaliation. What Bibi Netanyahu and his far-right government are enacting upon Gaza is exactly the same breed of genocide that has been enacted upon Jews across the world throughout history. From our subjugation in Egypt through the Holocaust, we know all too well how it feels to face this evil, see it rip through our communities as it seeks to tear apart the fabric of our very personhood. So to see the craven extremists in Israel's government invoke those horrors in an attempt to justify subjecting another downtrodden, oppressed people to the same fate... I don't think I can properly describe how angry it makes me.

Netenyahu and his government do not speak for all Jews. Hell, according to recent polls, they don't even speak for most Israelis anymore. They do not get to claim Judaism for their own murderous purposes. They do not get to use my voice as justification for their war crimes. They betray the soul of this culture with every hospital they blow to bits and every scrap of aid they deny the suffering children next door. And I refuse to be silent in face of their propaganda. I refuse to let this culture, which has been nothing but a source of kindness and community to me, to be weaponized to excuse the same monstrosities we celebrate rising above every year. I refuse to accept their definition of Judaism as long as I have breath to speak against it.

Palestine deserves freedom. Palestine deserves self-autonomy. Palestine deserves the same kindness that Judaism preaches to all downtrodden people of the world. And Israel must stop this senseless slaughter before their history of surviving the world's horrors ends with them becoming the horror in someone else's scripture. Find and destroy Hamas without punishing the people of Gaza- over half of whom weren't even born when Hamas came to power- for their crimes. Work toward a two-state solution where Jews and Arabs, Israelis and Palestinians, can live side by side in solidarity of the trials they've both overcome. Remember compassion in a world that venerates blind hatred. Remember the kindness we claim rises above all attempts to squash it down. Remember that the heart of Judaism is supporting those who struggle through darkness, helping them find their way out into the light.

Remember who we claim to be.

And refuse to let us be defined by death.

#FreePalestine

[secretlythepits]

Angry, Sick, Overwhelmed, and Exhausted

So, I’m sick.

My husband has treatment on Friday. His doctor said I could be his caregiver if I’m Covid negative. I am. This doesn’t feel like Covid, just a cold with a really bad cough. But that makes no sense. I shouldn’t be around cancer patients getting chemotherapy at all if I’m sick. Who cares which virus or bacteria it is?

I do not understand doctors.

I’m going to trust my common sense. If I make a miraculous recovery, I’ll go. If I’m still sick, no way. My husband feels like he’s been fighting something too, so we’ll see….

My kids are frustrating me.

I hate that when I say that everyone gets concerned about them and not me. I saw a reel today about how motherhood should get to be about mothers. It rarely is. If mom is angry, sick, overwhelmed, or exhausted: what about the kids? Are they ok? It must be so hard to have a mom who is angry, sick, overwhelmed, or exhausted. What makes it worse is everybody knows that mom is angry, sick, overwhelmed, and exhausted because of the kids! (And the husband!) But never can we just be concerned about a woman, particularly a mother, specifically a middle-aged one, because it is so hard for kids/men to live with a woman who is angry, sick, overwhelmed, and exhausted.

Those are the people who are really suffering!

The ones who have to live with her! The ones who have to eat the food she cooks for them! The ones who have to be passengers in the car service she provides. They are the truly downtrodden!

My kids aren’t awful. It’s the usual teen self-centeredness and annual transition tantrums. They make me argue pointlessly and end up mostly doing what is expected of them but not before they spread misery around. I’m just so frustrated because life is hard right now and they are taking every opportunity to make it harder. Even the smallest thing. Ugh x 1,000,000,000,000.

Both of my kids are taking some online public school classes so we have to have parent/student calls with each teacher for each class. It is so painful to listen to teachers trying hard to form a connection with a somewhat surly teen they will never know. God bless them, because I do appreciate their thankless efforts. I’m also thoroughly annoyed by these calls because I feel like I’m getting a taste of the pandemic with a million zooms The whole point of enrolling in these classes was for me to have less to do. I know that will end up being the case, but the first two weeks seem to require a lot from parents.

I want to get away. I’ve googled travel all day. I’m pondering the idea of going solo for my 50th birthday. It just feels easier (and definitely a 75% discount!). I really need to get a break from my beloveds. I feel that in my marrow. But then I was surprised to find myself wondering if I would feel lonely or miss them if I went away. I just might. Do most women feel this way? I know I would feel sad that they missed a beautiful moment of life. Then again, they have a tendency to make those beautiful moments less beautiful with the baggage they bring.

I am longing for an escape. Not necessarily from my location, but from my life. I’d like to stop being mom/wife. I am really done with those roles. I still love my people.

I would just like to be myself again.

With them.

But more critically,

with me.

💕 Thanks for listening. I know it’s a lot of complaining, but this is my outlet.

[aggravateddurian]

"Attention Dogtown residents! This is V. As of this moment, I am imposing a state of emergency during the transition of power. Colonel Hansen's death at the hands of Arasaka agents is a shock to us all, but I assure you that they paid the price with their blood." "There will be changes to the way we do things in Dogtown, and there will be some who will attempt to resist change. This message is directed towards them: fall into line, leave Dogtown, or suffer the consequences of doing business the 'old way.' There's a new vision for Dogtown: my vision. If you can't handle the idea of making Dogtown a true beacon of freedom, then the gate is right there."

A self-indulgent AU where V becomes leader of Barghest and Dogtown, and decides to use Hansen's wealth to make Dogtown a place people want to live. Cue numerous assassination attempts and Myers seething and throwing her agent at Reed every time she sees him (yes, this will be this AU's running gag, like Mitch's coffee machine for Brother's Shadow).

I'm going with a softer approach than I initially intended. I was going to turn V into just as much a warlord as Kurt, but a discussion I had yesterday with @wayfaringellie made me realise that I don't really think V would become that, unless she was a completely amoral corpo bloodsucker. None of my Vs, or V-adjacent OCs, are ever like that, except for Vince at the start of Brother's Shadow (but he was also a Corpo, so it makes sense).

There are some (like Takemura) who would swear to kill V, or cut V out of their life, but I think that most people in V's life would at least be optimistically wary (knowing V) to downright supportive (enter Rogue, Mr Hands). This leads me to V's relationship with Judy, which will be tried at times.

In much the same way that Judy believes in the idea of the Mox, she likes the idea of V using all of Hansen's misbegotten wealth to actually help the people of Dogtown, to make it a place where the downtrodden can actually live a life of dignity. V aims to make the old Barghest propaganda true. She's also worried that V's drive to make Dogtown an actual paradise might drive V down the same path as Hansen.

She wants to believe that V is still a good person, the same V she fell in love with, before she fell in with Barghest, and became enamoured with the idea of fixing Dogtown.

Ultimately, V proves to be the same V she fell in love with before she underwent her treatment using the Neural Matrix she stole from Hansen, but V is so worried that she's slipping down Hansen's path (and more than a little worried that she might lose Judy) that whenever she's worried her plans might be extreme, she checks to see Judy's reaction. This means that essentially, Judy is, to a degree, dictating the future of Dogtown.

V always jokes that Judy has her leash, ready to pull it if she starts barking at the neighbours. Trust me, the double entendre of Judy having V on a leash is not unrecognised, but I need to fit as many dog puns into the Barghest AU.

"Has anyone noticed that all the serious decisions in here are being made by a girl who edits smut BDs for a living?" - Jago Szabó, 2078

[tuttocenere]

Leporello flavors

From Don Giovanni productions I've seen.

The basso buffo servant

He's a character from Commedia dell'Arte and the director wants to make that very clear. Ugly, cowardly, greedy, secretly laughing at the world. Harlequin costume optional. Rarely seen in new productions.

A better Don Giovanni

Leporello spends half the second act in the Don Giovanni costume and has some lines here and there about how he wants to be (like) Don Giovanni. So why not let him? Without the class angle, Leporello is basically Don Giovanni with a conscience.

Gay but sad

Leporello certainly has a lot to say about being seduced by Don Giovanni, and actively gets seduced on stage a bit in the cemetery scene. Some productions lean into that with a bit of eye contact and some especially tender shoulder pats. Being in love with Don Giovanni does not end well for Leporello any more than it does for any woman. At least he gets some closure.

The downtrodden

This opera is, among other things, about how Don Giovanni abuses the working class and his fellow nobles don't really care. This is much more obvious in older versions of Don Juan, but it's also here, if you dress Leporello and the peasants up as members of the underclass. Occasionally it's not about being a proletarian, but about just being an awkward person, which can also work.

In love with lists

The catalogue aria is the most famous part of the Leporello role and arguably of the whole opera. It makes sense to see his documentary project as the heart of Leporello's character. That makes him relatable: we're all here to observe the adventures of Don Giovanni. It also gives him a good reason for sticking with the Don, compared to the classic option of just being afraid of him or just wanting to get paid. I love what's happening in the last screenshot here, where Leporello uses the very last moment of the opera to photograph the dead Don Giovanni for his collection. That's commitment.

This role is enormous with lots of scenes and text, so usually there's more than one of these options somewhere in there.