#their relationship is so fascinating to me

[juleswritesstuff]

Starving

Basically, just Theo being the munch that he is.

theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut

Enjoy💗

You had always hated Herbology with a deep passion.

Not the plants per se, those were rather fascinating to observe, but did they really need to have such a vast variety of species ? Was it actually necessary ?

Apparently it was, or Mrs Sprout wouldn't have given you a whole 600 words essay to write on every type of mandrake known to man.

Those screaming little things got on your nerves, and you could barely understand what the professor was talking about while tending to them. Hence, you were finding it extremely difficult to complete that paper.

The door of your dorm room suddenly opened and you had to restrain a curse from slipping through gritted teeth.

You had really hoped to not get interrupted.

Apparently your prayers weren't heard.

“You busy, dolcezza ?” (sweetie)

A more than familiar voice reached your ears. You lifted your eyes from your paper and they landed on none other than Theodore Nott, who was standing right in front of your door, now closed again, with a faint smirk plastered on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. You knew that little grin all too well.

“Kind of, yeah” you replied, your attention going back to the paper in front of you as you started scribbling again with your quill “Aren't you ? You're in this class too, have you already finished your essay ?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just turned it in, so I have some time to kill” he said with that cocky attitude of his.

Infuriating and charming at the same time, truly unfair.

“Good for you, then. I don't, so if you could leave me to it, it would be much appreciated” you said as a forced smile curved your lips.

“Oh, come on. You don't even have a little time ? Per me ?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side with the most innocent expression he could master. (For me ?)

Which didn't work because his eyes screamed trouble.

Theo looked like an angel with his brown hair curled in soft locks and eyes as blue as the ocean, although dead and emotionless looking.

Actually, he was the devil in disguise. Especially when he acted all coy like this.

“No Theo, I really don't have time for your little antics today” you said huffing.

‘His little antics’ being eating you out till tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara was smudged and unsalvageable. 

You and Theo were ‘friends’. You got along just fine, you talked, and you bickered like there was no tomorrow. It was part of your friendship, the teasing, the little harmless jokes. It was routine for the two of you.

What was also routine was the flirting. 

Shameless and obvious flirting.

You never thought it would lead anywhere. You were so used to the little Italian endearments he gave you and the ever present smirk on his lips that you didn't really think anything of it.

Until one night, after one of the biggest parties that Slytherin had ever thrown, you ended up in his bed, with him between your legs eating you out like his life depended on it.

You didn't even know how you found yourself in that situation, you just knew that you hadn't minded one bit.

You ended up with shaky legs and a dizzy brain just by his tongue alone.

Saying that you didn't mind it would've been an euphemism.

The day after was awkward as hell, but you both were too direct and honest to not deal with the weird atmosphere immediately.

So you decided to add some…privileges to your relationship. 

You discovered Theo had quite an oral fixation. 

He needed to keep his mouth occupied with something.

Cigarettes were a great way to keep his mouth busy, but they were extremely damaging for his health.

You didn't mean to make him stop smoking, you knew it would've been basically impossible, and, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, he looked so damn hot with those death traps between his lips, but you wanted to at least try to reduce the amount of nicotine that went into his body.

And what better way than to bribe him with the second thing he loved the most in the world ?

Eating you out seemed to be his favorite hobby.

Anytime he felt the need to light one cigarette more than necessary he came to you, with that sinful smirk on his lips and the hottest ‘fuck me’ eyes he could master.

And who were you to say no ? 

You had proposed the deal in the first place.

Plus, he was amazing at it too. The way his tongue worked on your cunt definitely felt like ascending to heaven.

But now you really didn't have the time.

“I'm not here because I feel like smoking, Y/n” he said walking up to you and stopping in front of the desk, leaning forward a little as he supported his weight with his hands on the table. 

You made the mistake of lifting your eyes from the parchment and locking them with his. His gaze was magnetic. Once those pools of stormy sea caught you, you couldn't escape.

“Then why are you here ?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Cause I'm starving, tesoro” he uttered with the calmest and most unaffected tone in his voice. (darling)

You narrowed your eyes.

“Then you should be in the kitchen to solve that little problem, don't you think ?” you asked rhetorically, eyes going back to focus on the parchment in front of you.

You heard him scoff, and suddenly he was leaning so much closer.

Your head was still hung low, trying to write that damn essay, but his presence was distracting as hell and you couldn't help but shiver when he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“You're right, that would be the perfect solution if I was hungry for food” he stopped and you could feel the teasing smile plastered on his face 

“But all I'm craving is you and that pretty little cunt of yours, so I don't think the kitchen elves could really help me with that”

You wished you could say his words didn't affect you, you really wished.

But the sudden warmth on your cheeks and the unconscious clench of your legs told another story.

You really didn't have time for this, but your body was craving him and his touch like crazy, and you weren't sure you would've been able to focus if you didn't feel his tongue working its wonders on you.

So you sighed and pushed the chair you were sitting on a bit farther away from the desk, enough to take your knickers off and throw them somewhere behind you, then you sat back, your skirt still covering you up until your mid thighs.

His eyes darkened with lust.

“Make it quick, I have an essay to finish” you said, faking indifference.

On the inside you were burning alive.

“Quick ? It's like you don't know me at all, dolcezza” he said with a scoff as he sank to his knees, crawling until he was right in front of you.

His gaze locked in yours as his hands made contact with the bare skin of your legs, caressing them gently, tenderly.

“I'll take my sweet time with you. Ora fai la brava and open those gorgeous legs for me” you hated how fast you complied, but with the way he was looking at you you really couldn’t help yourself. (Now be good) 

He lifted your skirt and he leaned forward.

As soon as his tongue made contact with your folds you melted.

You choked out a whimper, and you could feel him smirk right against your groin.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Nott, I'm only -ah fuck, I'm only doing it because you begged me” you said as he kept lapping at your core with his tongue, wrapping his lips around your clit to give it a gentle suck.

The moan that rippled out of you was almost pornographic.

“Piccola bugiarda, you know that's not true. You're doing it because you want it too” he moved his mouth from your cunt to your thighs, giving feather light kisses on the sensitive skin. (Little liar)

“You're so wet, you didn't think I would notice ?” he asked with that fucking cocky attitude that made you go crazy.

“Shut up and put that mouth to a better use” you said, but the bite in your voice was definitely toned down by the urgency and neediness of having his mouth back where you needed him the most.

His head tilted to the side as he leaned back just the tiniest bit.

“What's with the attitude, uh ?”

“No, no, no, -shit Theo. Come back here” you said, almost whining.

He was too far, and you needed him.

You needed him closer, way fucking closer.

“E come si dice ?” he teased, his eyes were dark and fogged up by lust and hunger. (And what do you say ?)

“Fuck, why do you always want me to beg ?” you asked, defeated. He leaned forward again, his breath hovering right above the tender skin as you clenched around nothing, feeling the loss of his tongue.

“Because it's fun, I love it when you beg me with that sweet mouth of yours. Plus I like seeing you flustered” he said as he started to kiss every inch and nook of your most sensitive area, avoiding where you really wanted him to.

You wanted to curse so bad, but you knew that was not what he wanted, what he needed.

“Theo -fuck. Please Theo, just touch me. Please” you surrendered, your voice whiny and broken, until a melody of moans and whimpers started to ripple out of your lips as soon as his mouth met your folds again.

And this time he didn’t stop.

He lapped at your juices like a starved man enjoying his meal for the first time in days.

He licked, and sucked, and kissed every centimeter, every inch of tender skin like he was born to do that.

Your hands buried in his soft brown locks and you tugged at them unconsciously after a particularly good roll of his tongue made you see stars.

“Cazzo, se continui così verrò nei pantaloni porca puttana” he said, hissing. His mouth kept working wonders on your cunt, his groans creating delicious vibrations on your clit. (Fuck, if you keep this up I'll come in my pants, holy shit)

“Ancora” he said between ravenous licks and delicate, teasing sucks, guttural moans leaving his lips. (Again)

“What ?” you asked, lost in pleasure. Your little knowledge of the Italian language became nonexistent when he was busy making you cry on his tongue.

“Again, baby. You know i fucking love it” he says, mouthing the words right against your core.

And so you obeyed, tugging at his hair again, a little rougher, a little harder.

A low groan left his lips.

You were close, you were so fucking close.

“Shit, Theo, baby” you moaned out loud, the term of endearment completely slipping out.

Theo seemed to notice, because he started to go faster, tongue flicking desperately at your folds.

Your breath got caught in your lungs, your ears rang and your sight turned black as you got it by pleasure.

The hand on his hair kept Theo close as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

He lapped at your juices carefully, to not overstimulate you, leaving sweet butterfly kisses on your thighs, worshiping the skin with his lips.

Once your breathing started to go back to normal and your sight was not blurry from the pleasure anymore you looked at him.

He was still kneeling in front of you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as his eyes focused on your face.

“You look quite disheveled, principessa” he said with a chuckle, pride oozing from his features for reducing you in that state. All fucked out and breathless. (princess)

“Oh, yeah ? And whose fault is that ?” you ask in mocking shock, but you can’t help a chuckle from escaping your lips.

“And you're one to talk” you added as you took in his appearance. His eyes were still quite foggy and unfocused, his hair a mess from all the tugging and his lips.

Oh, his lips. Red and shiny with your essence and the tiniest bit swollen.

He looked too fucking good to be true.

You knew you folded too easily when Theo was involved, but you couldn’t help it.

“I told you I was starving, you underestimated my eagerness to fucking ravish you” he said with a shrug wetting his lips to savor your taste once again, like his words didn’t make you feel like you were catching fire.

That mouth of his was a menace, physically and literally.

“I’m never gonna be able to finish this stupid essay now” you said almost desperately.

He laughed at your pathetic whining, but it was a warm laugh, not one made to mock you but one that was closer to endearment.

“Was it so good that it melted your brain off ?” he asked with that cocky grin of his.

You looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“Your overly confident attitude never fails to amaze me, Theodore Nott '' you said with a chuckle. You straightened your posture on the chair, smoothing out all the wrinkles that he had left from fisting your skirt and holding on for dear life to keep your hips still.

“Now I don’t want to kick you out, but I really need to finish this”

“No need for that, tesoro, I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to distract you too much” he said, getting back up on his feet and tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

“See you at dinner ?” he asked. 

You simply nodded your head yes.

His hand was still gently caressing your cheek, the pads of his fingers were as light as a feather as they danced on your skin.

His eyes were locked in yours, and you had no idea of what was happening.

Until his fingers reached your chin, tilting your head up the slightest bit. 

Then he leaned in.

For the first time since you had started this ‘arrangement’ his lips met yours.

And they were sweeter than you thought, gentle, but there was an undertone of hunger, of neediness that you couldn’t ignore.

He tasted of nicotine and butter beer, bittersweet and addicting.

His lips were slightly chapped but you couldn’t care less about it as his tongue swiped on your bottom lip, his teeth grazing at it gently right after as he carefully bit the plump skin.

He pulled back slowly and you were left speechless.

He just chuckled at your wide eyes and agape mouth.

“Good luck on your essay, ok ? I’ll see you tonight” he left a quick kiss on your cheek before storming out of the door with a smile on his face.

Your thoughts were all over the place, because what the hell had just happened ?

Did Theodore Nott just kiss you ?

Something a little different from my usual marauders content, but he's been stuck in brain for weeks now, and I couldn't help myself 😔

And honestly, as an Italian girl, I really think Lorenzo Zurzolo should be classified as a national treasure, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#harry potter #harry potter smut #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #tom riddle #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

I firmly believe that Kabru is autistic but masks so hard that he’s convinced himself and (almost) everyone around him that he’s neurotypical.

That man’s special interest is people and how they work, but he just thinks it’s him Being So Good At Socializing — like he doesn’t spend 95% of his time people watching and adjusting his personality in response to the traits he witnesses and obsessing over the intricacies of human interaction while mapping an ever growing relationship chart in his head. For fun. He even admits it in the manga!

Like, look at him!!!

It’s such a shame that — because he’s the narrative foil to Laios and his interest is generally considered more “socially acceptable” in both their world and our own — more people don’t realize this about him. He’s constantly misinterpreted as a horribly manipulative person who only acts the way he does to use the people around him, when that’s explicitly shown to not be the case at all. Kabru is naturally empathetic and is almost always thinking about other people, regardless of whether or not they’re right there with him or a thousand miles away.

I mean, his most defining motivation is his desire to do everything he can to avoid another tragedy like the one at Utaya. Someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t have a goal like that, and they most certainly wouldn’t go about it the way he does. He’s constantly working to help people who can help everyone else and tries so hard to make sure that anyone who seems like a threat is actually someone he needs to worry about before doing anything about it. His supposed aversion to Laios is only because of the ridiculous trolley problem he’s set up in his own head.

Outside of that, he (rather justifiably) hates monsters but is desperate to understand Laios’ love for them and his apparently most selfish goal in getting close to the guy was literally just to become friends with him.

When he’s interacting with the canaries and they imply that they’re going to take him and all of his friends to the West, his first thought is of Rin and how much she’d hate to be stuck in the place that gave her so many bad memories.

He helps Kuro learn Common when Mickbell is asleep and firmly looks forward to the day that the half-foot and Kuro can communicate properly so that their relationship can get properly started without any miscommunication.

And he understands Mithrun with only a handful of weeks AT BEST interacting with him, getting enraged when the elf seems to give up and immediately trying to help him find a new motivation for life.

I’m excited just thinking about the day that Kabru starts unmasking more and more around his friends — both new and old — because if being with my current friend group has taught me anything, it’s that hanging out with anyone so unabashedly themselves is bound to make you more comfortable with yourself too. It’s part of the reason why I like Labru so much! There’s something nice about imagining them hanging out in the throne room or laying in the grass outside and talking for hours on end about their special interests. They might not strictly understand what the other finds so fascinating about monsters or people, but they can grasp that shared feeling of love.

They probably influence each other in really good ways too, with Kabru helping Laios figure out what people are thinking even when it doesn’t make sense or Laios helping Kabru understand that not everyone and everything needs to be analyzed a thousand times over. They both get to learn that there are people like them and people who will love them without them ever having to change a thing about themselves. They deserve to know that they’re fine the way they are.

#I have so many more thoughts about these two #like how Laios is actually the one who couldn’t really care about people outside of his immediate friends and family #that his love is the one that would burn down the world if it meant the people he cared about got to be as safe and happy as they should be #always as themselves #never as the corrupted versions of them in their nightmares or by the winged lions distortions #which is how Kabru would learn to be more selfish and needy #encouraged to act on his own desires and help other people at the same time #these two have ruined me #especially Kabru #because I’m predictable and my other two favorite characters are Tachihara Michizou and Nara Shikamaru #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi kabru #kabru of utaya #dungeon meshi laios #laios touden #dungeon meshi rin #rinsha fana #dungeon meshi mickbell #mickbell #dungeon meshi kuro #kuro #dungeon meshi mithrun #mithrun #labru

[zeldasnotes]

my favorite aspects in romantic synastry 🥀

JUNO CONJUNCT SUN, VENUS OR ASC: Pure loyalty & devotion. One thing Ive noticed with this synastry is that they had my back. Men with their Juno conjunct my Sun, Venus or Ascendant also saw me as their ideal and really showed it.

VENUS CONJUNCT MC: People with Venus in my 10th house almost always treat me with so much adoration. Ive noticed that they looove my public image. They also tend to be protective over me. They also love to be seen with me which makes me feel like a queen.

VENUS OPPOSITE MARS: Balancing eachother perfectly. One is ying and the other is yang. They have the qualities I lack and vice versa. Our personalites melted together perfectly because of this. This is the aspect where youre a bottom and you meet someone and find out they are a top.

VENUS 2ND HOUSE: The best compliments ive ever gotten were from people with their Venus in my 2nd house. This one never fails. They always make me feel appreciated. They see something in me that I dont. Pure appreciation.

MOON 1ST HOUSE: With this one you can almost skip the ”get to know eachother phase”. From the first meeting it feels like youve known eachother for years. It feels so obvious that you should be together. You dont know eachother you feel eachother. The closest of close.

MOON TRINE OR SEXTILE MOON: Everything seems to just be so easy when I have this placement with someone. We are similar but not too similar. The same humour and core values. I find myself agreeing with everything they say.

MOON IN THE 8TH HOUSE: This is one of the aspects I ONLY like when its with someone I have a romantic relationship with. I cant stand this one in friendships or with people I barely know because then the obsession just turns weird and stalkerish. Im fine with my man being obsessed with me tho.

LILITH CONJUNCT MOON: When a mans Lilith is conjunct my Moon he loves me for who I am. He loves the part of me that nobody else likes. I love the fascination that men with their Lilith in my moon have with my hidden side.

PSYCHE CONJUNCT MOON: Nobody sees through me like someone I have this synastry with. He knows me from the inside & out to the point its creepy. But this aspect is only for people who are comfortable with their own shadow side otherwise you wont like this one.

©️ 2024 Zeldas Notes All Rights Reserved

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #lilith #birth chart readings

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 7

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, PTSD, soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy gets hurt, anxious reader, mention of torture

Word Count: 3373

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Your senses began to awaken when a hand removed the mask covering your face. Your body felt numb and lightheaded, making it difficult for you to see anything, even if you were able to free your hands from the tight handcuffs. Your legs felt like jelly, and it felt like all of your strength had been stolen away. From a distance, you heard someone calling your name, but you had no idea who it was. Everything was terribly cloudy, complex, and hazy.

The voice attempting to communicate with you was most likely that of another evil scientist who had come to torture you and grab more samples from you. You thought, Oh, my god. How did things turn out for you? How much time have you spent here? Months, weeks, or a year? You struggled to remember every memory; your head hurt so much that you grimaced.

Ben snarled at Butcher, “Give me your fucking coat,” trying to quickly cover your body with his own as he saw you were only wearing a very short, thin, filthy dress that smelt terrible.

Ben said, “You still look beautiful, you know, but you definitely need a good and long shower, baby,” as he saw you straining to completely awaken. He kept observing your facial expressions, fascinated and concerned at the same time, since you appeared so innocent and confused in the metal box. You may have gotten the same upgrades as him, given his newfound abilities, and if he wasn't careful with you, you could do a lot of damage. If it were the same for you, though, he could manage the energy in your chest with ease.

You smelled blood everywhere and felt panicked the moment the smoke burned your eyes and made it difficult for you to see properly. Your body shook from anxiety and terror. All around you, you heard faint whimpers and shallow breathing that sounded like they were ready to pass away. The smell of death and pain filled that place. You knew you had to leave this torture house as soon as you could, while you were still able to. You used all of your strength to push the body in front of you against the wall and across the room harshly while that stranger forced you to put on a coat.

Ben groaned, “Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” as he realized he was through the wall. With a raised eyebrow, he grinned to himself. It wouldn't be that simple, he realized. After all, you were his equal. 

Butcher realized that this wouldn't go away as he had hoped and that he perhaps could have made a small mistake, and he took a step back in terror. He didn't dare get involved because he wasn't on Temp-V. 

You coughed in between clouds of smoke, and the heavy blood all over the area made your face drop. Indeed, you were once more in danger, and those creatures undoubtedly had new plans for you. You halted briefly as hot blood beneath your boots stopped you from continuing your frantic search for the exit. There were corpses all throughout the place, and they undoubtedly belonged to those people who had tormented you and forced you to sleep for who knows how long. 

“At this point, what will you do? Will she explode similarly to you or worse?” Ben stood up from the location he was thrown into, as Butcher asked.

Ben shook his head, scrubbing away the dusk and stones from his hair and clothes. “Stop whining like a bitch,” he shouted loudly. “I can handle this. She's just confused.”

You started to move out the door, but powerful hands quickly grabbed your waist and held your arms, restricting your movements just like the day you were tricked. You cried out, “Let me go,” as your heart raced in anticipation of being confinted or, worse, subjected to more agony.

You tried everything to pull yourself out of the desperate situation, feeling terrified and perplexed, but his grasp held you tightly, and it was strangely stronger than yours. 

A voice called out to your ear from behind you, “Calm down.” Once you found out, you knew it belonged to the man who once acted like he cared about you, then tossed you aside and tricked you with his new lover. That was when you truly realized what was going on. If your supe hearing sense wasn't playing tricks on you, it belonged to Ben.

“I want to get you out of here, sweetheart. I know how you are feeling, but stop resisting. Trust me.”

Ben spoke to you like he was whispering, yet you didn't feel at all at ease. Your body stiffened at the hurtful memories of him casting you aside, teaming up with Countess, and betraying you. He was the one who, along with Crimson Countess, imprisoned you in that icy, cruel location and made you endure unending suffering. His soothing murmurs sounded poisonous to the ears.

You fought to break free from his embrace as fury overtook the entirety of your being, but he applied even more force to you. Your gaze was fixed on the door when he settled his ruthless hold around your back, pressing his chest against your back to calm you. You felt so far away, yet so near to freedom. 

“It seems she's not very happy to see you, huh?” With a sly smile, Butcher smirked to Ben. “We must immediately leave this place. Any suggestions?”

Ben used the mask he had removed from your face moments before to cover your face once more, exposing you to the same smoke, while he managed to get a hold of both of your arms. You started to cry because you were horrified and felt betrayed, and your heart began to race since you had no idea what he would do to you. How come he was even abusing you in this way? 

You were still in his grasp as Ben leaned his head against yours, made you smell the smoke flowing from the mask, and whispered, “Sorry for this, baby. I wouldn't hurt you; I don't mean to. Just stay calm.”

Despite how much you tried to resist it, you have never felt more helpless against him. Tears were streaming down your face, and your eyes began to close. You wanted to talk to him right then and there and attempt to figure out what was bothering him so much about you. Though you planned to speak to him, the faint sound of his name vanished beneath the mask as a deep sleep overtook your already exhausted body.

“Thought you wanted to free her?” Butcher replied in a mocking voice as he observed Ben tightly holding the mask to your face while observing the painful look on your face. With an serious tone, Butcher continued, “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

When Butcher saw you two like that, he was surprised. All he knew was that everyone who knew them acknowledged Soldier Boy and Countess's romantic relationship. At the time, they were the most well-known couple. He was unaware of your relationship with Soldier Boy. As long as Ben followed through on his commitment to kill Homelander, he could care less about the possibility that it was an affair, something between you, or something else. He'd take care of other stuff later. 

Ben yelled, “Fuck off,” in a harsh tone. “Without this mask, we can't take her out like that. Until we get home, I'll keep her asleep.” 

“And how on earth will you do that, Mr. Loverman?”

Ben snapped, “Take that fucking tube,” and softened his hands immediately after applying the mask to your face a little too forcefully. While you were still a supe and wouldn't be easily wounded, he felt a little bad for unleashing his strength on you. You're being a supe did not, however, mean that using force against you was acceptable. “You will carry it while I keep that mask on her face till we get to the car.”

Butcher followed Ben's instructions and grabbed the tube Ben mentioned. As he strained to hold the tube steady on his shoulders, Butcher muttered a groan and said, “This shit is a bit too heavy.”

Even though he was stronger than the majority of other humans even in his human form, Butcher found it difficult to carry the tube. His jaw clenched and his muscles tautened as he bore it.

Ben was furious and was trying to find a method to carry you as he made sure the mask stayed on your face and forced you to stay asleep. “Be a fucking real man for a second,” he cursed. Ben lifted you in his arms and carried you in bridal carry while the other hand remained still on the mask.

“I should have used Temp-V,” Butcher complained once again as he followed Ben, who was making his way out of the room in quick steps, while you slept peacefully in his arms.

“Maybe you should just grow your dick,” Ben remarked as he headed for the car after getting a deep breath of fresh air. Sitting in the rear now, Hughie was staring at them, mouth agape with worry, seeing you in Soldier Boy's arms, blissfully asleep. 

Hughie tried to ask questions, but Ben shot him an angry glare and said, “Why the fuck are you waiting there? Fucking move.”

Hughie took a step forward and turned around without uttering a word. He watched, worried, as Butcher set down a big tupe on the seat next to Ben, who had come into the car, put you on his lap, and covered your face with a mask.

“Let’s fucking get the fuck out of there,” Butcher murmered after he gave a look to Ben and you.

Ben tenderly laid your body on his bed, and Butcher and Hughie followed him inside his room, their eyes wide with curiosity. 

“What happened to her?” Hughie asked Butcher and Ben, but neither of them responded.

In the hopes that you would be more at ease, Ben removed the mask from your face and waited for you to wake up once more. He saw you gently open your eyes, and his heart raced. Uncertain of your response, Butcher and Hughie put some distance between them.

You opened your eyes and let out a painful moan. When everything became clear to your sight at last, it was then that you realized you were lying in a bed that was comfy.

Ben slowly sat down next to you, placing his large hands on yours and muttering in a dry voice, “Everything's good; you're good.”

Was it truly good, though? 

With a feeble voice, you asked, “Ben?” while keeping your gaze on his green ones. He didn't look quite the same as when you last saw him. His beard gave him a more serious, grown-up appearance. “What's going on over here?” 

The two strangers who were observing you intently caught your attention, and they inhaled deeply. Ben was about to grab your hand, but you quickly moved to put some distance between you and avoid his touch. You smelled a lot worse than you looked, and you were wearing a long, black coat. You checked your body, and your face wrinkled with loathing. Oh god.. For how long has it been? 

You grimaced, gave Ben a fierce gaze, and asked, “How could you have done this to me?” before he could say anything more. 

Ben was briefly taken aback, but he wasn't shocked that you believed he was the one who had fooled and deceived you, placing you in such a horrible situation for decades—even though it had all been Vought's evil shit all along.

"Course it wasn't me." Ben immediately defended himself, gazing over your body. “I didn't even know,” he said.

You raised your hand to interrupt him before he could say any more lies, saying, “I just need a shower right now.”

You were careful not to touch Ben while he nodded and apologized in a low voice as he attempted to assist you in standing up. The two guys across the room were simply silently waiting and observing you when Ben sent them an angry glare, and they quickly left the room. Though you were ignorant of the dynamics amongst the three of them, you knew you needed to use caution if they were Ben's new fellow soldiers. In the end, you had no understanding of what was going on, and you received no change from anyone.

There was an unsettling silence the two of you had while you were alone in the room, but he soon showed you the bathroom. 

You murmured, gently keeping the coat against your body, “I need new clothes.” After everything that happened to you, you shouldn't have been concerned about how you looked, but you were unable to stop it. It was a natural inclination, after all, to feel clean. 

Ben smiled warmly at your hesitant attitude as he went to the wardrob with pride and showed you the t-shirt, underwear and all he had previously purchased for you with Butcher's money. He wanted you to see how interested and ready he was to start things again with you, as he had already given it much thought. Not only did he take your suit from Legend, but he promised to display it to you later. Your suit wasn't a priority, considering that the chaos all around you had already overwhelmed you.

“I'll be waiting downstairs, so we can talk about what happened properly,” Ben stated after clearing his throat. Then, you took the clothes from his hands and entered the bathroom, locking the door as though someone would dare to interrupt.

You took the longest shower of your life, showered head to toe, put on the clothes Ben bought you, and headed downstairs. Ben and two strangers were watching the news on TV, which seemed a little unusual because it was so modern. 

Ben did not make a scene, even though his face fell when he saw you sitting on the couch, distant from him. As you began to watch the news, you glanced at the gadget that Hughie was holding and clicked on it while wearing a serious expression. Then you turned to face Ben and requested, “Tell me slowly, what year we are in?” in a low voice.

With rush, Butcher responded, “It's 2022.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, placing your hand over your forehead, while continuing to stare at the TV and gawking at all the strange things you had never seen before. Ben had stole your years.

Ben instantly spoke up and stated once more in a firm voice, “I didn't do this to you. Vought deceived both of us. Also, it has been about four days since those fuckfaces rescued me in Russia.”

“You’re welcome,” Butcher said, sipping his whiskey.

You questioned Ben once more in a suspicious tone, “How did you even find out what happened to me?” You had plenty time to ask all the thousand questions you had, but you still had priorities.

Ben's gaze strayed as he thought about sitting next to you and making a physical connection to ensure you listened him properly without you passing judgment on him, but he remained where he was. He never considered discussing Crimson again, but it seems that it was inescapable.

Ben only said, “I learned it from Crimson Countess,” trying not to show how insecure he was. He and the Countess had already done you an immense amount of pain. 

With a sad smile, you nodded meaningfully and said, “Of course she'd be the first to pay a visit.”

She remained his main concern even after all this time and your efforts on his behalf. But now it means absolutely nothing. While you were sleeping, so many years had gone by, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. You felt like you had undergone a complete change from the person you knew in the past.

“It’s not what you think,” Ben said seeing your disappointed face.

“I really don’t care, Ben,” you simply said with all sincerity. You weren’t lying.

Although it was difficult to accept their relationship and everything that had happened in the past, you now felt a little foolish for not just letting go. In addition, you spent years in a metal box and were tortured because of your naive attitude. You felt lost, and you had nothing now. You were left without even a place to go.

“Do you have something to eat?” you shyly asked Hughie, who had a humble and kind expression on his face. You have questions, for sure, but you needed to eat something first.

Hughie quickly said, “Sure, we can order something.” And you thanked him with a smile on your face.

Ben took a deep breath and decided not to press the issue because he thought you were a little too sensitive and hungry. His whole body was itching to sit next to you, and his eyes never left you. He was never fully aware of how much his body yearned for your attention and touch. Perhaps since so many years had passed between you, this need and yearning had always existed. But you were not the woman he had known before, and your gentle but determined attempts to keep him at a distance disturbed him.

You leaned back as you ignored Ben’s gaze on you and tried to focused on the TV to see how much the world has changed.

“I visited her to ask what happened to you,” Ben suddenly said with a rough voice.

Without getting into an argument, you just nodded and carried on watching TV, saying, “Okay.”

There was a headline that said, ‘Soldier Boy's terror killed at least 50 people in a week,’ when the information first came on television. 

Ben cursed loudly, and you murmered, “What?”

You were all fixated on the reporter commenting on the extent of Ben's damage to Ohio and New York while Butcher turned up the voice of the TV. You gasped as you watched an entirely wrecked street in New York and heard injured people telling the TV reporter how far Ben's explosion was heard from and how badly he damaged the lives of everyone inside, killing 19 people, including children. 

Ben's face was unreadable as he stared at the television, lost in thoughts and feeling a weight of guilt in his chest. He had no intention of blowing up in the first place. He was aware that the Russian song was the reason behind his unexpected outburst in the middle of the street. He had no feelings of hostility toward people.

When they also displayed the doctor's picture on the screen—who was heavily involved in your torture—your lips parted in disbelief. The reporter was telling the public that Soldier Boy had blown up his house and him as well.

“What have you done?” you murmered to Ben whose lethal green eyes were fixed on yours.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

And Happy Pride Month to my dearest readers and everyone! -`♡´-

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

#soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #the boys tv #the boys #jensen ackles #soldier boy #the boys series #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #the boys amazon #soldier boy fic #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles the boys #jensen ackles fic #the boys soldier boy #the boys season 4 #the boys x reader

[nighttimeclassics]

so im just thinking about the Orpheus and Eurydice metaphor in Dead Boy Detectives again...

so i really cant get over the symbolism in the show's comparison between Edwin and Charles and Orpheus and Eurydice. I'm sure someone else more succinct than me has already talked about it but man i just have to because as a classicist it has been consuming my brain since it happened... this is going to be a shitty ramble, but we vibe

so in the show, it is Edwin who first realises his feelings for Charles, and is the first to to truthful about them. Given that, in most translations of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, Orpheus' devotion to his wife is seen as the "stronger love" between the pair. highlighted in later adaptations such as Hadestown, as Eurydice makes the active choice to go to the underworld and leave her husband rather than their wedding being overshadowed by issues "worse than any omens". therefore, Edwin could initially be seen as the Orpheus parallel. particularly when you consider that Edwin 'guided Charles from the darkness' when he was dying of hypothermia with the lantern

however, unsurprisingly, given that is it Edwin who escaped from Hell, and is returned to it, Charles appears as the Orpheus parallel, with Edwin being his Eurydice. this is obviously then made super explicit in the show with it being Charles rescuing/ leading Edwin out of Hell. but even then it is not that simple

In Ovid's Metamorphoses, when pleading with Hades and Persephone, Orpheus states "my wife is the cause of my journey. A viper [...] robbed her of her best years. I longed to be able to accept it, and I do not say I have not tried: Love won." and obviously at the core of both of these relationships, is a deep deep love between them, regardless of how that manifests. Something i think is a massive parallel that i haven't seen anyone talk about yet is the willingness to remain in the Underworld/Hell for their respective partners.

going back to Metamorphoses, when Orpheus is requesting Eurydice's return to the mortal world, he gives Hades and Persephone an alternative solution of sorts. he says "if the fates refuse my wife this kindness [of returning to life], I am determined not to return {to the mortal realm]: you can delight in both our deaths." now is this not effectively the same thing Charles says to the Night Nurse when bargaining with her to open a door to Hell??? Charles says "then open up a door and I'll go get him, then we're stuck in Hell and you know where we are, or, I bring him back and we're all yours. It's a win-win." tell me that these aren't the same. you cant.

But i do think the most interesting parallel is when Charles and Edwin are running up the spiral staircase. i am not mentioning the times when escaping Hell, Edwin overtook Charles running, because let's be honest, we all know he is the faster sprinter of the two given the 70 years he spent practising. so I am disregarding that. but what I do find fascinating is this - and why I said it was more complicated earlier; in the metamorphoses Orpheus is obviously given the stipulation that he must not look at Eurydice when guiding her out of the underworld, or the agreement "would be null and void". and its here that we see another reversal. during the majority of the run up the staircase, Charles is behind Edwin, because like we have established, he's speedy. but in this key moment, Charles takes the lead in their escape, walking in front of Edwin whilst making it clear that they need to keep moving. just like in the tale, Charles, fulfilling Orpheus' role, "Afraid [they] was no longer there, and eager to see [them], the lover turned his eyes", turns to look back at Edwin, delivering the ridiculously romantic, 'sorry, no version of this where I didn't come get you is there?'. however, after this he refocuses on continuing up the staircase, which is where Edwin steps in:

as you can see in the gif, currently, Edwin is in, what I'm going to call the 'Eurydice position', following the lover out of the afterlife. and it is Edwin, as Eurydice, who basically chooses to condemn himself to the underworld/ hell, allowing the demon to catch up with them just to 'see [his] lover' and ensure Charles knows that '[he] had been loved'. t

im just going to put the section where Orpheus looks back at Eurydice in here because I think its all relevant:

"Afraid she was no longer there, and eager to see her, the lover turned his eyes. In an instant she dropped back, and he, unhappy man, stretching out his arms to hold her and be held, clutched at nothing but the receding air. Dying a second time, now, there was no complaint to her husband (what, then, could she complain of, except that she had been loved?). She spoke a last ‘farewell’ that, now, scarcely reached his ears, and turned again towards that same place"

by forcing Charles to turn around and face him, Edwin is fulfilling the roles of both Eurydice and Orpheus. in this instance, he is the one 'stretching out his arms' to hold Charles, but he is also the one that could be sent/ dragged back to the afterlife for this, but he just had to make sure Charles was aware of his feelings for him, to know that he was 'loved'. and I think Edwin was potentially prepared to return to the Doll House, or at least believed he would be able to find it more bearable knowing that he had been able to bear his soul to Charles, eve if that meant Charles couldn't come back again and try to rescue him for a second time, which Orpheus tried to do in the Metamorphoses, "Orpheus wished and prayed, in vain, to cross the Styx again, but the ferryman fended him off" and I feel like we all know Charles would have also kept trying if he lost Edwin again.

i guess, what im trying to say, in the most long-winded way, is that Charles and Edwin don't fill binary roles of one of them being Orpheus and the other being Eurydice, they are both of those things to one another throughout the show and I think that's really beautiful and I have to give massive credit to whoever did episode seven because I really feel like they did their homework. even after all the ramble I have written I still feel like I haven't fully made the point I was trying to make, but I definitely got some of the way there I think

#tldr these bitches gay #can you tell i didnt proof read this #i think yes #i am so tired #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #orpheus and eurydice #orpheus #eurydice #dead boy detective agency #dbd #the dead boy detectives #ovid #ovid's metamorphoses #media analysis

[toriangeli]

2.04 notes

-Biggest note, finally, FINALLY we have seen the real Armand. I'm not just talking about his heartbreaking speech in the Louvre, I'm talking about his increasingly unhinged behavior and especially that flashback moment where Daniel is remembering him asking him why he's so fascinating. -Is it insane that Claudia's suffering is more upsetting to me than anyone else's? I think it hits closer to home when it's a woman. That, or maybe they're oversaucing the pudding. Like, we get it, she's Super Tragic. Can we process -Santiago sulking in his dressing room while Claudia is onstage. They should have formed an alliance from the start to get this act off the stage. -Man this episode does make me remember how insufferably snobby Louis was in the book. Thank god they've got Jacob playing him. -I adore them showing coven politics. Love love love. Could Armand have prevented it? I mean, obviously, if he could put the entire coven to sleep in an instant. But they are clearly setting up the impetus to be more complicated than many make it out to be. -Daniel says "Yah" to Louis asking if he wants to know what Dreamstat felt like. -"He's not that attractive." Bro. I'm not even a dudes kinda lady and even I know he's hot. -HE CALLED HIM A BUFFOON OMG -I think Rashid, on orders from James, mixed in those photos with Louis' to cause an argument and allow Daniel more time with the files he was sent. -I wondered if they were going to find one of Marius' paintings in the Louvre, but finding one of Armand/Amadeo is even better (because Marius is...not mediocre, but definitely not Louvre material). -"Who am I, Louis? Am I my history I have endured? Am I the job I do not want? I am not sure anymore. No one has painted me in over 400 years." Oh god for them to address Armand's identity issues this directly--he is fully aware of that emptiness and openly seeks to fill it. He's begging Louis for it. -Then to turn around and show this authoritarian side to him, FUCK YES. -Starting to venture closer to the theory that Louis has been telling the lie of him being the one who slit Lestat's throat for so long that he has come to believe it. -Jesus. I know Dreamstat isn't even real and doesn't have feelings, but I still feel for him. -This scene where Louis advises Armand. People are seeing is as being more sinister than I'm seeing it. There are definitely power plays, but nothing Armand pushes back on. I don't think he's doing this because he fancies being Lestat, though I'm as perplexed as anyone by his reaction to Armand's story. But I think here, he's giving Armand a place to vent, to be vulnerable, to safely express fear for the first time in well over a century. I do think it snowballs by the time we get to Dubai (hence Jacob talking about Louis becoming "the Lestat" in his relationship with Armand), but here, Armand seems deeply reassured. Contrast their argument in the bedroom, where Armand is immediately concerned with who to blame because he doesn't want the argument he knows is coming. That instant anticipation of the argument isn't a great sign. But the one moment in the 1940's that's a sign of how toxic it's likely to get? Louis called Armand by the name Armand said he went by as a slave, which he could not be sure was his birth name. That's taking the BDSM fantasy too far. Other than that? Every time Armand starts to spiral emotionally in the conversation, Louis redirects him, and it genuinely seems to make Armand feel better. What I don't like is that Louis has stepped back into a persona he doesn't like. At this juncture, it's more unhealthy for Louis than for Armand. Though as we see, it seems to become equally unhealthy for them both. -That being said, some people are still weirdly insistent that Armand is secretly 100% in control of everything ever, in spite of the mounting evidence that it's not the case. Just because he can put his coven to sleep for 15 seconds without breaking a sweat doesn't mean he's some kind of puppet master. There's only one of him.

Next week: finally getting truly unhinged Armand omg.

#iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #iwtv amc #iwtv spoilers #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand #daniel molloy #claudia de pointe du lac

[kokoch4n3l]

ˏˋ main yahaan hoon ࿐ྂ "I'm in the lights of your eyes, you see me wherever you look"

summary: in which you meet Sano Manjiro a month before your wedding and fall in love. you didn't realize you fell in love with him till the pre-wedding rituals began.

pairing(s): bonten!mikey x desi!reader

notes: title translates to 'I'm here'. a purely self-indulgent fic based on Veer-Zaara(2004)'s song Main Yahaan Hoon if Veer was a gang leader and was actually at the wedding instead of Zaara hallucinating him. line dividers by rookthornesartistry heart divider by cafekitsune

warnings: infidelity, cheating, arranged marriages, implied emotionally absent parents, emotional blackmail, suggestive themes, implied oral(f), manjiro carries reader, slightly open ending

word count: 5690

Your father was a politician, businessman and just well very rich. You’re his only daughter so he spoils you rotten. Giving you all the things you can ever want. He was a good man, your mother a great person too. However, it wasn’t a very emotionally fulfilling relationship. You were okay with it though. Jewels and clothes sated the ache in your heart even if it was temporary. You got engaged almost as soon as you turned of age. The man was just a little bit older and also a politician like your father. Arranged marriages were common in your culture and you had never dated before anyway. It’s about a month before the wedding you meet Sano Manjiro. You aren’t sure what he does but he’s also really rich like your father. He has a few close business associates and they all have matching full moon hanafuda tattoos. Sanzu Haruchiyo let you trace his tattoo for some reason after seeing your fascination with it. 

Bonten were business associates of your father. You weren’t sure exactly for what but you also couldn't care less. They were all pretty fun people. You made them watch Bollywood movies with you and do a whole bunch of other things and they did it without any complaint and seemed to enjoy it as well. They were all cool and then there was Sano Manjiro… 

Sano Manjiro was different from the rest. He had a quiet intensity about him, a presence that demanded attention without a single word. You noticed his eyes first—dark, deep, and endlessly contemplative. He was always observing, absorbing everything around him with a sharp, discerning gaze. Despite his quiet demeanour, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. At first, you thought he wouldn’t be putting up with your childish games but he proved you wrong. When you called him a stupid idiot he didn’t get mad but instead, he smiled. He was amused. For some reason, it surprised you because he didn’t seem like the type to smile or just show any kind of emotion in general. 

Your father, of course, invites them all to your wedding. It was all fine but you don’t want to marry your fiancé. He was nice at first but there was something about him that put you off. You didn’t like that man. You sit in your father’s office in your engagement outfit while music echoes from the bottom floor of the mansion to the top. A white lengha with intricate embroidery adorns your figure with a full-sleeve blouse along with a diamond necklace gifted by your future mother-in-law and a matching tikka in the same style resting in the center of your forehead. Your dupatta is draped over your head and right now it feels too heavy. Although you and your fiancé were already engaged, your mother-in-law insisted on having a flashy ceremony to kick start the wedding week.  “You’re my only child… Hence, I’ve pampered you and given you freedom” Your father says, his hands clasped behind his back and using his businessman voice “I haven’t raised you like a girl but like a boy”

There is a lump in your throat. You know if you speak you’ll cry. Your father walks toward you. “Usually the mother has to explain to her daughters about her duties. But since I think of you as my son, I’ll explain your duties to you”

You look up at him. You’re sitting in his chair the same way you would when you were a child. But unlike back then, your bare feet press flat against the hardwood floor. “You already know that your grandfather was a respected politician. But he died a few days before he could attain success. Since that day, as his heir, I’ve been trying to take his party to great heights but I’ve been unsuccessful so far” He says and you know already what he will say next “But with the help of your finacé’s father, I can attain that success”

You don’t feel too good. The lump in your throat gets bigger and you desperately try to swallow it. Your father turns your back to you, staring at your family picture. “Soon you’ll get married into their family. It’s your duty…” He pauses and turns to look at you again “...to understand the importance of this relationship. Spread happiness, whether the times are good or bad and strengthen the bond of every relationship and to protect the honour of both families at all costs. A small mistake or a bit of carelessness from your end could ruin everything… I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.”

He knows, he knows, he knows. Your father had a feeling you no longer wished to marry the man you were betrothed to. You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper out a pitiful “yes.”

“Is there anything you wish to say?”

You simply shake your head no. You couldn’t. You had to marry this man even if you didn’t want to. Your father was practically begging you without actually begging. He smiles. “Come here”

You stand up, your anklets jingle with each step you take. “It’s been so long since I saw my daughter smile,” He says as you now stand in front of him “I hope you haven’t left it in Japan”

You smile weakly. How were you to tell him you did? How do you tell your father you left your heart in Japan? He pulls you in for a hug and a single tear runs down your cheek. 

You did not wish to marry the man you were promised to but you didn’t want to break your father’s heart either. 

Your father leads you down the large marble staircase, the railing covered with flowers and the entire bottom floor decorated lavishly. The vibrant colours and festive sounds of the pre-wedding celebration fill the air, yet your heart feels heavy with an unspoken sorrow. As you descend the staircase, your eyes scan the crowd, seeking a familiar face—a face that brought unexpected joy and confusion to your life. In the midst of the lively guests, you spot Sano Manjiro standing quietly at the edge of the room with his associates. He is dressed in beige slacks and a silk back button-up shirt, his presence commanding even in the bustling environment. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the noise around you fades. His gaze, deep and inscrutable, seems to reach into the very depths of your soul. The rituals proceed with the grandeur expected of such an event. The music, the dancing, the laughter—all blend into a blur as your mind drifts back to the times spent with Manjiro and his associates. The times when you could be yourself when you laughed genuinely and felt a connection beyond words. Sanzu Haruchiyo, always mischievous yet kind, had once teased you about your fascination with their tattoos. “Do you want one too?” he joked, letting you trace the lines of the intricate hanafuda design. 

You had laughed, but deep down, there was something about those moments that felt more real than anything else in your life. As you and your fiancé exchange rings, you feel Manjiro’s eyes on you, a silent support that gives you strength. The night progresses, and you find yourself stealing glances at him, your heart aching with an unspoken truth. You didn’t want this arranged marriage. You wanted something more, something that only he seemed to understand. 

It feels stupid though. It’s probably a simple infatuation but oh you had never felt this way in your life before and even as your fiancé slides the engagement ring onto your finger, the only thing that goes through your mind is Manjiro.

You sit alone in your room late at night on your bed, too lazy to sit at your dresser. Your dupatta was carelessly discarded at the foot of your bed as soon as you entered your room, too lazy to even remove your lengha and get in bed. The day had been tiring. You start to remove your jewelry, starting with the large diamond necklace that felt way too heavy. It’s as you are taking off the tikka from your forehead that someone enters. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. The air shifts, and the familiar, intense presence washes over you. It’s Manjiro. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. He steps closer, his movements silent on the plush carpet. He doesn’t say anything else, just stands there, watching as you fumble with the clasp of your tikka. Your fingers tremble, and the delicate piece slips from your grasp, falling onto your lap. “Let me,” he offers, reaching out. His hands are gentle but firm as he takes over, carefully removing the tikka and setting it aside. 

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, melting the anxiety and sorrow that had been weighing you down. “Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a question in his gaze, an unspoken query that you can’t quite decipher. The silence between you is heavy with words left unsaid, emotions unacknowledged. “Why did you come here?” you ask, needing to break the silence, to understand why he’s here, why he makes you feel the way you do.

“I needed to see you,” he replies simply, his gaze steady. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His concern touches you deeply, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You blink them back, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. Manjiro sits down next to you, being careful to not sit on your skirt. He reaches over and starts to remove your earrings. Despite his fingers being calloused and rough, his hands are gentle. He touches you like the slightest touch might break you. Each brush of his fingers against your skin feels like a promise, unspoken but powerful. You sit there, letting him help you, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. The weight of the day's events begins to lift, replaced by the warmth of his presence. When he's done, he sets the earrings aside and meets your gaze again. His eyes are filled with something you can't quite name, something that makes your heart beat faster. “Let’s get this off, hm?” Manjiro’s hand reaches around you and tugs the strings on the back of your blouse free

Your breath catches, but you nod, trusting him implicitly. The fabric loosens, and you feel the pressure on your chest easing. He helps you out of the heavy, ornate lengha, his movements were careful, his eyes never straying where they shouldn't. This was wrong. So wrong. You were a damn cheater. But as Manjiro unzips your blouse and pulls it off your arms, you can’t find yourself to care. “‘Jiro…” Your breath is shaky as he lowers your bare body down

“Don’t worry” he whispers, a heavy hand cupping your cheek so tenderly

Something in your head tells you it’s been years since this man was tender to anyone. Your breath hitches at the touch of his roughened palm against your cheek, a stark contrast to the softness in his gaze. Manjiro's thumb gently brushes away a stray tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that seems to pierce through your very soul. "I shouldn't be here" you murmur, your voice barely audible, a mix of fear and yearning.

It was a little stupid you were even saying that since it was your own room. "But you want me here" he counters softly, not a question, but a statement of truth.

The words hang between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. Your heart beats wildly, torn between duty and desire. You don’t reply, unable to deny the truth in his statement. Manjiro’s presence is intoxicating, a dangerous allure that you find impossible to resist. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me to leave, and I will," he whispers, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his words. "But if you want me to stay…"

You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. The choice is yours, and you know what your heart wants. "Stay" you breathe, barely more than a whisper, but enough for him to hear and without missing a beat he slides your engagement ring off your finger

Manjiro doesn’t take your virginity that night. Instead, he calls you a good girl for saving yourself for after marriage and then gets down between your legs and ravishes you. 

 The next morning was the Haldi ceremony. In the ceremony turmeric paste would be smeared on your face and oil on your hair. It was more of a fun kind of thing anyway and during all the weddings you have attended in the past, all the guests would end up getting the turmeric paste all over themselves while playing around with it. You were wearing a yellow salwar kameez with flowers embroidered on the top and your dupatta was bright pink. You sit on the ground by the pool while your cousins hold up a heavier more embroidered dupatta over top of you like shielding you from the sky. “Don’t put too much” You warn your dad as he smears some of the turmeric paste on your cheek

There is oil dripping down your forehead from when your cousin decided he wanted to be funny and poured the entire bowl on your head. Tumeric paste is smeared on your feet, arms, cheeks and nose. The vibrant colours of the ceremony blur together, a swirl of yellow and pink, laughter echoing around you. Yet, despite the cheerful chaos, your mind is elsewhere, drifting back to the previous night. Manjiro's touch lingers on your skin like a haunting melody, one you cannot shake off no matter how hard you try. Your father's laughter brings you back to the present, his smile wide as he steps aside for the next relative to apply the turmeric paste.

As the ceremony continues, you feel a pair of eyes on you. You glance up and catch a glimpse of Manjiro standing a little away from the festivities, his usual quiet intensity softened by a hint of something tender. He stands apart from his associates, watching you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The noise of the ceremony fades, replaced by the silent conversation happening between your gazes. Your heart beats faster as you remember his whispered promises from the night before. His words, his touch—they haunt you, make you question everything you thought you knew about your life and your impending marriage. You know it's reckless, dangerous even, to let yourself feel this way. But you can't help it. Not when his presence brings you a sense of peace and belonging you’ve never felt before. “This stuff smells weird” Koko comments as he crouches in front of you and smells the turmeric paste on his fingers before smearing it on your cheek “Are you sure this is safe for your skin?”

“Of course it is” you reassure with a smile

The rest of Bonten does the same. Finally, it’s Manjiro’s turn. He crouches down in front of you, an unknown emotion swirling in his eyes. Without a word, he takes the yellow paste and smears some on your right cheek then the left. His touch is gentle, yet it sends shivers down your spine, the same way it did the night before. The world around you seems to disappear as he smooths the paste over your skin, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence between you is filled with unspoken words, emotions too raw to be expressed in the midst of the celebration. Your heart pounds in your chest as his fingers linger on your skin, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, his voice so low only you can hear. 

His words are simple, but the intensity behind them makes your breath hitch. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the noise of the celebration. 

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks, mixing with the turmeric paste. He offers you a small, almost shy smile, and for a moment, you see a vulnerability in him that he usually keeps hidden. You bring your hand up and smear the paste on his cheek too, making him laugh. His laughter is a rare sound, rich and deep, and it reverberates through you, filling your heart with warmth. You can't help but smile in response, your fingers lingering on his cheek for a moment longer than necessary. The world around you resumes its chaotic pace, but the connection between you and Manjiro remains, a silent promise amidst the noise and colour of the celebration.

As the Haldi ceremony continues, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of your engagement ring, now conspicuously absent from your finger, feels like a liberation and a burden all at once. You glance at Manjiro again, finding comfort in his steady gaze. It’s as if he understands the turmoil within you without needing to ask.

As the ceremony comes to an end and the guests start to leave, you struggle to pick your dupatta off one of the chairs with your turmeric-covered hands. “Damn it” you mutter and look around for someone to help you

“Here you go” Rindo picks up your dupatta for you

You sigh in relief. “Thank you. Can you help me go up to my room?”

It was going to be a task going up to your room while covered in turmeric paste so you needed help. Rindo nods and offers you his arm, guiding you carefully through the crowd and up the stairs. The turmeric paste makes everything slippery, and you're grateful for his steady presence. As you make your way to your room, you can feel Manjiro's eyes on you, a silent promise of his support and understanding. Once inside your room, Rindo helps you sit on the edge of your bed, his touch careful and respectful. “Do you need anything else?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shake your head, offering him a grateful smile, your eyes lingering for a moment of the front of his throat where the full moon hanafuda tattoo it etched then you look back up at his eyes. “No, thank you. I’ll manage from here.”

Rindo nods and leaves, closing the door softly behind him. You sit there for a moment, the events of the day and the night before swirling in your mind. You know you need to wash off the turmeric paste, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Manjiro. Eventually, you stand and make your way to the bathroom. The warm water washes away the turmeric, leaving your skin tingling and fresh. 

Later that night was the mendhi ceremony. Your hands are covered in intricate designs of flowers and swirls made with henna all the way up to your elbows and your feet with the same. “Ma~” you whine to your mother who was too busy talking to her sister to feed you 

Your mother laughs, a twinkle in her eye as she waves you off, engrossed in her conversation. You sigh, looking at the plate of food in front of you, and then at your hands, which are still wet with henna. The intricate designs are beautiful, but they make it impossible for you to eat on your own. You glance around the room, hoping to find someone to help you. Your eyes meet Manjiro’s from across the room. He’s standing with his associates, but his gaze is fixed on you, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. Before you can beckon him over, he starts to walk towards you, effortlessly weaving through the crowd. He kneels down next to you, his presence a comforting weight. “Need some help?” he asks, his voice low and warm.

You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yes, please. I can’t eat with this on.”

Manjiro picks up the spoon and gently lifts a small portion of food to your lips. His movements are careful, and deliberate, as if this simple act holds profound significance. You open your mouth, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. As he feeds you, you catch the subtle smirk on his face, and you can't help but smile back. “This is quite the look for you,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Covered in henna and unable to eat by yourself.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, your voice playful. “This is supposed to be a special time, you know?”

“It is,” he agrees, his tone softening. “And you look beautiful.”

The sincerity in his words makes your heart skip a beat. You chew and swallow, the taste of the food mingling with the warmth spreading through your chest. Manjiro continues to feed you, the moment intimate despite the bustling celebration around you. Each spoonful feels like a silent promise, a shared secret that binds you closer together. “Food is spicy…” He murmurs 

“You don’t like spicy food?” you ask him

He shakes his head no. “I like the sweets though… After you get married bring me some in Japan?” You laugh softly, the sound mingling with the music and chatter in the room. “Of course,” you promise, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of sharing such a simple pleasure with him. “I’ll bring you all the sweets you want.”

Manjiro's smile widens, a rare glimpse of genuine happiness on his usually stoic face. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, his gaze steady on yours. “But only if you promise to come back soon.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you find yourself nodding before you can even think. “I promise,” you say, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

The rest of the mendhi ceremony passes in a blur of laughter and music, but the memory of that moment with Manjiro lingers, a silent promise of things to come. As the night draws to a close, you find yourself reluctant to leave his side, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment. 

It’s as you lay in bed and stare at your henna-stained hands, searching for your fiancé’s name among the intricate designs. But as you scan the patterns, your heart sinks, and a furrow forms on your brow. The once-clear inscription has been smeared beyond recognition, lost amidst the swirls of henna. A mix of emotions washes over you—relief, guilt, and a pang of sadness. Relief because it feels like a sign, a small reprieve from the impending marriage you’re dreading. Guilt because you know you shouldn’t feel relieved, and shouldn’t be hoping for a way out of a commitment you made. And sadness because despite everything, there’s a part of you that still longs for the simplicity of what could have been. You trace the faint outlines of the henna design, your mind swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The bond between you and Manjiro grows stronger with each passing moment, a silent promise of a future you never dared to imagine. But the reality of your situation weighs heavily on your shoulders, reminding you of the duty and obligations that bind you to your fiancé and your family.

With a heavy sigh, you curl your fingers into fists. The events of the day replay in your mind—the stolen moments with Manjiro, the whispered promises, the shared laughter. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—you’re falling for him, and there’s no turning back.

The next night is the ladies' sangeet. It’s the last thing left and the next morning is the wedding. You sit with all your female relatives as they sing and dance to old folk songs. You sit among them, a forced smile plastered on your face, your mind drifting to thoughts of the impending wedding. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation that feels suffocating. When no one is looking, you stand up and hed to the backyard where most your male relatives are, drinking away as usual. You can see Ran has unfortunately been cornered by one of your drunk uncles and is explaining Punjabi politics to him. Ran looks at you for help but you just grin and shake your head. You spot Manjiro walking over to you and you smile at him. “Hi” You say as you walk through the garden together, you anklets jingling with each step you take. 

"Hi," Manjiro replies, his voice low and warm, a stark contrast to the chaos of the sangeet unfolding behind you. His presence brings a sense of calm, a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere of obligation and expectation.

You walk through the garden together, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm light over the flowers and foliage. The air is filled with the sweet scent of jasmine and roses, a stark contrast to the heavy perfume of the crowded hall. You feel a weight lift off your shoulders with each step, the knot of anxiety in your chest slowly unravelling in his presence. "Having fun?" Manjiro asks, his gaze steady on yours. 

There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. You shake your head, a wry smile playing on your lips. "Not exactly," you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I feel like I'm suffocating in there."

Manjiro nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I can imagine," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper “Japanese weddings are not this… festive or colourful. Must be a little overwhelming” 

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "It's not just that," you confess, your voice tinged with frustration. "It's the weight of expectation, the pressure to conform to tradition and duty." You pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "I feel like I'm being suffocated by it all."

Manjiro listens in silence, his gaze unwavering as he takes in your words. There's a depth to his understanding, a sense of empathy that makes you feel seen in a way you haven't felt in a long time. "I know what it's like to feel trapped," he says finally, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "To feel like you're living a life that's not your own."

His words strike a chord within you, resonating with the turmoil you've been feeling. "Do you ever wish things were different?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes. "All the time," he admits, his voice filled with honesty and you watch his hand come up to touch the full moon hanafuda tattoo on the back of his neck "But sometimes, we have to make the best of the hand we're dealt." 

You nod in understanding, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart as you take in the vulnerability in Manjiro's words. His admission resonates with your own feelings of frustration and longing, the desire for a life beyond the confines of duty and expectation. "But that doesn't mean we have to give up hope," you say softly "We can still fight for what we want, for the freedom to live our lives on our own terms."

Manjiro's gaze meets yours, a flicker of something akin to hope dancing in his eyes. "And what do you want?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper, as if afraid to voice the question aloud.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your desires heavy on your shoulders. “I… I don’t know yet”

And Manjiro simply smiles at your answer and says “well clock is ticking… better hurry up and figure it out” then turns to go back to where he was sitting with your father, other business partners and relatives 

As Manjiro walks away, leaving you alone in the tranquil garden, his words linger in the air, a gentle reminder of the urgency of your situation. The weight of expectation and duty presses down on you once more. You watch Manjiro's retreating figure, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing stirring within you. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—your heart is leading you towards him, towards a life of freedom and possibility.

You turn back towards the bustling sangeet, the music and laughter spilling out into the night air. Tomorrow is the wedding, the final culmination of weeks of preparation and anticipation. But as you rejoin the festivities, your mind is elsewhere, filled with thoughts of the man who has captured your heart and the future that awaits.

As the night wears on and the sangeet draws to a close, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, apprehension, and a simmering sense of rebellion— something you shouldn’t be feeling. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation. But tonight, in the quiet solitude of the garden, you allow yourself to dream of a different future, one where you're free to follow your heart, no matter where it leads.

As the first light of dawn breaks over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the garden, you feel a sense of anticipation stirring within you. In a few hours, you’ll be married. It’s scary. So scary and you feel sick. You sit in a yellow kameez and white salwar, fingers trembling as you put on the naath, hooking it to your nose and fixing the chain over your ear to see how you look in it. The cool metal of the jewellery rests over your lips that you’ve bitten raw. Your makeup lays untouched, face bare. You need to start getting ready. 

It’s the early hours of the morning, not many are awake except the servants who are getting the house ready. Your deep red wedding lengha is draped over your bed and seems to be mocking you. Your fingers linger on the intricate embroidery of the deep red lehenga, but the touch brings you no joy, only a sense of resignation. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, the naath adorning your face, you can't help but feel a sense of disconnect. The woman staring back at you seems like a stranger, a mere shell of the person you once were. The weight of the impending marriage hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you with its inevitability. It’s suffocating, and overwhelming, and you find it hard to breathe.

But then, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a sense of determination takes root within you. You refuse to let fear dictate your future, to surrender to the expectations of others. You may not know what lies ahead, but you know one thing for certain—you can't go through with this marriage. Your father may love you and only want the best for you but you are not a pawn in his plan to rule the world. 

Gathering your courage, you make a decision—to follow your heart, no matter the consequences. It won't be easy, and there will be challenges ahead, but you refuse to let fear hold you back any longer.

As you slip out of your room after grabbing your yellow dupatta, the quiet of the early morning enveloping you like a comforting embrace, you feel a sense of liberation wash over you. It’s just as you make it past the hall, your anklets unfortunately still jingling with each step(you probably should have taken them off), you come face to face with Manjiro, Sanzu and Rindo. “Hm? And where do you think you’re going?” Manjiro asks and his hand comes up and lifts the naath up then lets it fall back in place resting over your upper lip 

You freeze, caught off guard by the unexpected encounter. For a moment, you're at a loss for words, your mind racing to come up with an explanation. But as you meet Manjiro's gaze, you see something in his eyes—a flicker of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil raging within you. "I..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I don’t want to get married"

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your confession. You expect judgment, condemnation, but instead, there's only silence. Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Hm?”

You let out a shaky breath, henna-covered hands clenching at your sides. “You asked me last night what I wanted and this is what I want…”

There is a moment of silence. Manjiro looks back at Sanzu and nods and the latter pulls out his phone, frantically typing away texts. “C’mon then” Manjiro says and sweeps you off your feet in the same way the male leads in Bollywood movies would

You aren’t sure how things will turn out but as Manjiro carries you down the marble staircase and into a car, you don’t think about anything else. Just him. Manjiro’s arms feel solid and reassuring around you as he carries you down the marble staircase, the weight of your decision becoming lighter with each step. The early morning light filters through the windows, casting a golden hue over everything, as if the world itself is blessing your choice.

As he sets you down into the backseat of a car Manjiro brushes a strand of your hair away from your face then kisses your forehead. “I’m here” he whispers

end notes: at the end, when Sanzu is on his phone, he's texting Koko to post a bunch of evidence of corruption that reader's fiancé’s family has done. Now MIkey could have done that before but he wanted it to be reader's choice so.... yeah. Hope you enjoyed it loll.

#tokyo revengers #mikey sano #mikey x reader #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers fandom #tokyo revengers x reader #sano manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #kanto manji gang #tokyo revengers angst #bonten #bonten!mikey #bonten mikey #bonten x reader

[hard--headed--woman]

For this 2nd day of Pride Month I decided to talk about a woman I mentionned yesterday in the post about Renée Vivien (that you should absolutely read by the way, Renée Vivien is amazing) :

Natalie Clifford Barney !

I talked about her to say that she's had a love story with Renée Vivien, but that's not the only thing she's done.

Natalie was born in 1876 in the United States and died in 1972 in Paris, at the age of 95. Writer and poet, she was the first woman to use the word "lesbian" in her writings (in this case a collection of poems, published in 1899), instead of the word "tribade" (it's another word for lesbian in french) or simply "homosexual". The word lesbian back then was even more taboo than it is today, so you can imagine how important this fact was (and still is).

She was also famous for the parties she organised: she held a literary salon which she wanted to turn into the "new Mytilene". She invited the female artists, writers and intellectuals of her time, in response to the all-male Académie Française, and they all spent whole afternoons and evenings in the flat of the wealthy American.

Natalie never tried to hide her homosexuality. As she said in a sentence that quickly became her most famous one,

"Why would anyone blame me for being a lesbian ?"

(Yes, that's her with Renée Vivien)

Natalie's mother (a renowned artist) and her tutor awakened her interest in the French language at an early age, and when she was a little older, she was sent to a school in France; thanks to this, she spoke French fluently and without an accent, and developed a soft spot for this country.

Natalie was 12 when she realized she was a lesbian, and decided right away to "live in the open, without hiding from anyone".

Hee first known relationship was with Liane de Pougy, a famous dancer of the time (whom she cheated on with many women). Natalie wrote about this love story in her collection Quelques portraits, sonnets de femmes. ("Some portraits, sonnets of women"). Liane wrote about it in her novel "Idylle sapphique", which so fascinated the French public that it had to be reprinted sixty times in the same year, with people torn between admiration and scandal. The two women eventually parted ways, however, due to Natalie's infidelities and Liane's "debauched lifestyle" (in Natalie's words).

As I said, this book caused a huge scandal. Natalie was forced to return to the United States, where her father burned all her writings he could find, and tried to marry her off. However, she categorically refused to obey him, and faced with her stubbornness, her father gave up, and Natalie returned to Paris, where she had a lot of lovers. Among these lovers, there's Renée Vivien (probably the most important, since Natalie never accepted their breakup and tried to get Renée back until Renée died at 32) Lucie Delarue-Mardrus, Colette, Emma Calvé, Olive Custance, Henriette Roggers and many others.

In 1902, on the death of her father, Natalie Clifford Barney inherited a large fortune and was able to rent a house in Neuilly-sur-Seine, where she gave parties that became the talk of the town.

In 1910, she moved into a house at 20 rue Jacob ; for nearly sixty years, this house was the setting for her famous "Fridays", one of the last influential literary salons. A LOT of famous people went there. Like really. The complete list is on Wikipedia if you're curious, and here's a screenshot with some examples :

Marie Skłodowska-Curie went there. Albert Einstein went there. Apollinaire and Proust went there. Oscar Wilde went there. That's cazy to me!

She's had other lovers, like Elisabeth de Clermont-Tonnerre, but her greatest love story was with the painter Romaine Brooks, with whom she had a relationship similar to that of a married couple from 1914 to the end of her life. Of course, this didn't stop her from cheating on Romaine with other women: Natalie was known for her infidelities, believing that polygamy was necessary for a couple's survival, although she claimed that this didn't stop her from being deeply in love with Romaine. She cheated on her for example with Oscar Wilde's niece Dolly, and Nadine Huong, whose story I'll tell one day because it's so interesting!

She spent the years of the Second World War in Italy, and later returned to France to find her second home, which she shared with Romaine Brooks, destroyed. In 1949, she reopened her salon (which started to welcome more and more famous actors and actresses on top on everyone else).

Nothing much happened for the rest of his life. She never left Romaine Brooks (despite continuing to have affairs with a host of other women) and died in Paris in 1972, aged 95.

Natalie Clifford Barney's work and life were very important not only for culture itself, but also for the lesbian community. She made a major contribution to lesbian visibility, opened many minds, helped normalize (even if we still have a long way to go) homosexuality and, above all, helped many lesbian women accept themselves, understand that they were not alone and live the life they deserved.

The influence of her works and her salon on culture, literature, cinema, theater and even science is immense and deserves to be recognized. We should be talking about her much more than we are!

Here's some of her poems with an english translation :

And she's written loads of other stuff that I really recommend you read! She was an interesting woman who wrote interesting things. Look her up on Google and read her writings and her life!

Anyway, that's it! Sorry for posting so late, and see you tomorrow for the 3rd lesbian pride post 🏳️‍🌈

#lesbian #lesbian pride #pride #pride month #lgb #lgbt history #lgbt #female homosexual #female homosexuality #female history #women's history #herstory #lesbian history #poetry #french poetry #poésie française #poésie #american writer #natalie clifford barney

[drdemonprince]

I am very very attracted to my boss and it's driving me insane. There's this amazing chemistry and tension between us and all day long we're just teasing eachother and flirting. We're always gravitating towards eachother and happy to see eachother, finding excuses to work together, etc. He is, however, a straight man twice my age who has a girlfriend and I'm a trans guy who could be completely misreading our interactions. Straight guys often banter and "flirt" with eachother so maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe he's just excited to be some sort of a mentor figure to me and he likes to be admired, and likes to see me grow and learn, and that's all there is to it. He calls me his protege which I find incredibly hot. Anyway I'm seriously contemplating whether I should confess my attraction. I'm not really anticipating him to reciprocate, but would do it more so to get rejected so I would be able to stop fantasizing about him all day long and give myself some closure. On the other hand, I don't want to humiliate myself and create a possible distance or awkwardness between us. There would be no consequences for my job so that's not an issue. I was wondering if you have any words of wisdom for me? You always have such a unique yet sobering outlook on things and I would love to hear your thoughts on this situation.

"Unique yet sobering outlook"! That's the kind of compliment I would have put in the word document alongside all my favorite feedback from English professors back in the day when I still needed that. Sincerely, thank you.

I am of several minds with regard to your question. On the one hand, I think straight people are terminally monogamous most of the time and that it would be hell on earth to get involved with this man and draw the potential ire of his girlfriend even if they weren't.

I think it's usually a self-hating maneuver to date a straight man as a trans masc (I have been there, it is terrible) but as a gay man, I support the frisson of danger that comes with seducing a heterosexual and think it would be a baller little feather in your cap to ruin this man's identity and relationship for a fling with you, even if it would be destined to end in agony.

I hear that this misadventure will not affect your job, but I don't exactly understand how that could be true. It sounds as if you work together quite closely and that his flirty banter is part of what makes the gig pleasant, and even if he doesn't have the capacity to fire you (I'm guessing) this affair could devastate the vibe enough that someone else might step in and fire you for its indirect consequences. happens sometimes.

Part of me however does believe in "fuck it we ball" and in being a bit reckless when you find yourself in a moment of raw, transfixing chemistry. chasing after fascinating moments that are destined to shatter our hearts is one of the core aspects of being alive. It keeps us growing, fills us with vigor! Who doesn't want to one day have an interesting story of a love affair like that?

One of my follow up questions would be how rare this kind of connection is for you. If it were me? Someone I truly connect with on the level you are describing is rare, and I've been willing to risk upending my life as i know it over a fleeting few weeks or months of passion before, and sometimes it's been worth it! Some mistakes are worth making, because we will become stronger and more interesting people after they happen!

But another part of me also thinks "straight men flirt with eachother sometimes" makes no sense and that what you are likely experiencing is him not seeing you as a man, or doing the thing some sensitive straight guys do of leeching attention off of queer men to feed their egos. (Which isn't evil, we all need attention sometimes, but it can be devastating.). If he lets you down because he sees you as a man and is not gay, that might relieve the pressure for you and work out fine. If he is into you because he doesn't see you as a man, you two will fuck and it will be horrible in the long term probably. But maybe hot in the short term.

I also think there are probably hotter ways to play this one (and more strategically effective ones) than a straight-up love confession, which would probably force him to bring up his girlfriend as the reason not to pursue it.

I think if you really want to SEDUCE this man you should spend time with him after work, ask him to mentor you on a labor intensive but potentially rewarding project, disclose little personal details that endear him to you, ask him lots of questions about himself, allow him to open up to you about his life... and then strike.

I think it'll be interesting if you go for it, at least. I certainly want to hear the story. But I don't want you to get fired, lose a mentorship that is important to your career, or get your ass beat by the gf.

So I will also tap my followers for their feedback.

[angelinthefire]

There is a “would Dean kill Cas to save Sam” poll going round I think you’d find interesting and which compelled me to unleash thoughts at you. I often wonder why fandom (both hellers and bronlies) ignores the fascinating examples in canon where Dean’s “Sam before anything else” ideology is threatened by Castiel. the BEST example of this is when Cas premeditatedly and with full agency breaks Sam’s wall as collateral damage — and Dean forgives him in the blink of an eye! If that were anyone else who’d done that to Sam they would be a dead man. Yes Dean was mad about it, yet the next season (BEFORE Cas redeems himself by taking on Sam’s hell trauma) Dean literally tells Cas “you were doing the best you could” (girl…).

Other key examples: Dean staying in Purgatory for an additional year to find Cas (rather than prioritising going back to find Sam, and this is after Cas broke Sam’s brain mind you); deciding to basically kill himself in s13 after Cas has died (despite Sam being alive and well); telling Chuck he’s wiling to kill Sam if it’ll bring Cas back. If the Bronly tenet that all Dean needs to be happy is Sam then hell, why does Dean beg Sam to let him die in the series finale.

I will note that Dean kicking Cas out of the bunker in s9 is thrown around constantly but there was literally a gun to Sam’s head at that point. Dean was tormented about it and still snuck off to see Cas although it may have been unwise in that situation.

Also interesting to note that Sam isn’t the only one; Castiel has also served as a threat to Dean’s other representations of family. in s6 Cas ~betrays Dean by colluding with Crowley, who kidnaps Lisa and Ben, which eventually leads to Dean deciding to memory wipe Lisa. In s14 Dean literally *blames Cas in part for Mary’s death*! And yet still forgives him?? (As s13 showed, Dean can live better without Mary than he can without Cas.) This is really intriguing/toxic element of Destiel that is hardly explored in fandom, which is that Dean associates Cas with danger to the rest of his family/his role as protector of his family and therefore his relationship with him is a weakness that he will regret. Add to the fact that Cas has proven time and again to not be a safe/reliable object of affection (see above examples, and also repeatedly leaving/dying) and it’s very plain why Dean would have reason to fear/suppress/compartmentalise romantic feelings between them — because they would be an even greater source of pain.

Curious to get your thoughts on this!!

Thank you for the message!

Regarding the first point: I think there's a fairly typical thing going on of fan simplifying characters and their motivations. Does Dean love and care about Sam? Yes. Was Dean's duty to Sam something that was drilled into him as something that he had no choice over? And something that was reinforced through their forced isolation from the rest of society? Also yes. So what happens when Dean has someone that he has grown to love on his own terms? And who he never has to worry about alienating, someone who could actually be part of his life? Something very interesting!

I looooove the s6/7 example so much, because Dean really isn't ever angry at Cas for hurting Sam, he's angry at Cas for not listening to him. And even then, not really - his anger at Cas in 7x01 is much more something that Dean is using as a sheild, something to cover his own hurt, than anything else. And then the second it looks like Cas is going to turn around and come back to him, all that anger evaporates.

s8 was soooo vindicating as well when it aired, because all summer the bronlies were like, "Dean's motivation in Purgatory will be that he's trying to get back to Sam!" And then it WASN'T. This is another thing too, that bronlies will try to make it out like Sam is the only one that Dean will go to extreme lengths for, that Dean isn't a *generally* nurturing type of person who *wants* a bigger family and to not be so socially isolated. But throughout the entire show, Dean is constantly drawing people around himself. And we do see how Dean is willing to go to great lengths for Cas. Of course, a lot of the time, Dean is convinced that he's powerless to do anything when it comes to saving Cas, but Purgatory was one time when he wasn't, and we see what happens.

(And the thing is I do get where the bronlies are coming from in their understanding of the show, in an abstract sense. Like objectively, if someone were to tell me that there's a story about two brothers, that only have eachother against the world, and they have a super-intense relationship, and all they care about is each other and fighting monsters, and there's a dark, gothic vibe to it, I could see why someone would be into that. Like it's not my jam, but abstractly, I see it. But the thing is, that reading of the show does not hold up to contact with canon - and none of them want to admit that.)

The series finale is so weird when you think about it. Because bronlies hold it up as a win. But it is Dean taken down to a place where all he has is Sam and hunting, and then deciding that he has nothing to live for.

s9 was just a mess. Kicking Cas out of the bunker was so contrived. And then what everyone forgets is how incredibly happy and jazzed Dean was when he thought Cas was going to be living with them. The thing I'm most bitter about is that they couldn't have given us at least one episode of Dean and Cas being absolutely goofy happy around each other before constructing a situation to get Cas out of the picture.

Your last paragraph is interesting, and something to think about. The way I see it, is that Cas has entered a special tier of relationships with Dean, where Dean will hold on to him no matter what. I don't think Lisa and Ben are a good example for your point, actually, because I think Dean blames himself for what happened to them more than anyone else, which is reflected in his final interaction with them when he says he hit them with his car and is happy they can go on with their lives (or something of that nature, I forget).

Mary's death is interesting though. The only thing comparable to something like that happening before is when Dean blames Sam for Charlie's death (and what Dean says to Sam - "I think it should be you on that pyre instead of her" - is actually way more harsh than what Dean says to Cas). But Dean does forgive Sam, and he does forgive Cas - again, they're on a special tier, where Dean values them no matter what. And you see that throughout the divorce arc, where Dean keeps checking in on Cas and showing concern for him, in spite of how he feels at the moment - like he knows througout that the rift him and Cas are going through isn't going to last forever.

I think all of Dean's closest relationships are toxic, just as a result of the way he was raised and the kind of life he leads. With Sam, John, Mary, Jack, and Cas. The relationships that aren't toxic are the ones where they aren't physically around each other that much (like Charlie), or with Bobby, who has the level of experience to not get caught up in bullshit. With all of them, the death toll doesn't really matter (like Mary endangered Cas too, and Dean forgave her). Dean just tends to not let go of the people around him.

I think a big barrier for Dean and Cas is actually neither of them having any kind of reference model for what they are to one another. All of Dean's romantic relationships have been filled with secrets, and the knowledge that his partner cannot share his life with him. Dean calls Cas his "brother" in s6 and s11, because to him, that's the closest you can be to someone. That changes to "best friend", which is better, because it doesn't have the same connotation of obligation and responsibility - your best friend is someone you actually like being around. And it's a title that is uniquely Castiel's.

And in general he has trouble categorizing Castiel. Like he keeps trying to put Cas in human boxes that he doesn't actually fit within. He repeatedly indicates that he thinks of Cas as just a guy, and then Cas acts in ways that defy that category.

So yeah, I guess I don't really think that Dean sees Cas as unsafe. It's more that Dean just isn't thinking of romantic relationships as a possibility for himself. And he doesn't quite know how to categorize what he and Cas are to each other (and the fact that Cas is a dude may or may not play into that, depending on how much you think Dean grapples with internalized homophobia). And they're both generally fucked up.

It's an interesting idea, though, that Dean sees Cas as a danger, that I'd be interested in seeing explored more in posts or fic.

#spn #destiel #my commentary #dean winchester #castiel #ask #anonymous

[intermundia]

hey will um- any thoughts on feyd-rautha and paul’s dynamic? not even necessarily from a shipping pov. i just feel like you’ll have some juicy insights lol

I don’t have anything really new to say that hasn’t been said, but it IS fascinating to me that Paul and Feyd-Rautha were supposed to be married, with thousands of years of Bene Gesserit design to create these two ideal parents for the chosen one, but Paul’s divergent masculinity broke that union and made them into antagonists. They’re foils, like the way you place a gem on metal to make it shine brighter, yet the light that Feyd-Rautha shines on Paul illuminates Paul's dark side, rendering his negative self visible, warning about it and exemplifying it.

In the sense that Paul was raised in a culture of honor, and yet chose exploitation, Feyd-Rautha was raised in a culture of exploitation, and chose honor. He contained that unexpected virtue, not enough to redeem him, but enough to cast light on the honor that Paul discarded. When Paul says “so this is how we’ll survive, by being Harkonnens,” the audience knows with dread what part of Paul’s essential personhood that he will be leaning into, the cruelty and exploitation of others, the wanton violence, the selfish ambition.

Also it’s fascinating that unlike Feyd-Rautha, Paul is NOT sexually vulnerable; he’s simply not available to be manipulated through sex, he does the manipulating. He resists Irulan’s seduction entirely, and doesn’t give any real power to Chani. He indulges in sex because he feels love and desire, and he maintains control in the realm of sexuality over Irulan, whose life path is controlled by the fact that he denies her children. If he had been the wife of Feyd-Rautha, he would’ve been able to gain and keep power in the relationship using sexuality and children as a tool.

Feyd-Rautha, despite being a psychopathic power hungry dominant force in much of his life, still would’ve bent to Paul-as-lover, Paul-as-giver-of-intimate-pain. Feyd-Rautha was born to be a sire for Paul's child, born to serve as stud for a powerful woman to create the one. It’s an inherently complementary role, a dependent one. Once they took his seed, and once they established sexual control over him, he would be theirs to use or discard. He’s a tool and a weapon, where Paul should’ve been the sacred vessel, the ultimate woman and mother.

I also deeply appreciate the design choices that Villneuve made that diverge from the written text in a way to visually communicate important personality and ideological information. They are equal-and-opposite visually as well as narratively. Seeing that final duel, Feyd-Rautha is bleached of all natural color, hairless and clean, his shiny black armor tells the story of an industrial culture, versus Paul in sandy brown, natural cloth with a natural blade, coming from the people who lived on the land, in balance and sync with the land, and against those who steal and exploit the land.

It's an archetypal clash of civilizations, embodied in these two young men fighting to the death. They just look like a matched set, opposites that synthesize a thesis of Atreides and antithesis of Harkonnen into a higher being, that should have been their child. The fact that they fought to the death instead of generating life is a bad sign for the galaxy—not that their child necessarily would have been the one to lead into a better future, but Paul killed billions. Jessica's usurpation of Paul's motherhood of the one disrupted that plan, and Paul's masculinity and sexual independence led to a disaster.

#sorry if this is a ramble lmao #idk man i just have thoughts about them #dune #paul atreides #feyd-rautha harkonnen

[heliza24]

Louis, Armand, Visual Art, and Vulnerability

The way episode 2.4 used painting and photography as a recurring motif to illustrate the relationship between Armand, Louis, and Dreamstat fascinated me, and I’m going to try to work it out here.

Even though Armand is dismissive of Louis’s photography in Dubai as a “human understanding of time”, he actually feels very similar about the paintings in the museum, calling them “framed boulevards of time and space.” For both Louis and Armand, the captured image represents a connection to their true selves. For Louis it’s an embodiment of his love of humanity, of morality, of joy. There’s a tragic element to this though; Louis is always just an observer, stuck behind his camera lens. He can never be a true part of humanity again. In this episode he complains about the ways vampirism has restrained his art; he can only take photos at night, he can’t get to know his models without eating them. He has control over the images he creates but only so much. He doesn’t have the true spark of artistic genius, the ability to capture humanity because he feels it himself. 

Armand has the opposite relationship to the image; he’s always the subject, not the artist. (I know he paints in his early life in the books, but we haven’t seen any evidence of that yet in the show). There’s a tragic element to this too, since it mimics the way he was entirely stripped of agency as a young man. The way he is portrayed in the Vecchio painting is both beautiful and violent. He’s whitewashed, and it captures a moment when he was being sexually abused. But there is something vital about this painting, in that it connects Armand to his faulty early memories. There is also something important about the fact that someone cared enough to arrange to have him painted, even if that care was possessive and twisted in its own way. When Armand says “no one has painted me in 400 years,” he means “No one has cared for me in this way in centuries. No one has seen me in this way for that long.” 

Of course there’s an irony of that, because Louis has seen him in that way, in the photo he took of Armand. Louis fights against the art dealer’s appraisal of this photo, because he wasn’t trying to capture Armand’s fragility in that moment. He was trying to capture Dreamstat. I think there’s a part of Louis that is very frustrated by Armand’s vulnerability. There are a lot of reasons for this, I think, and it’s a pattern of behavior we see in Louis often. Louis has always had difficulty accessing sentiment and vulnerability himself, going back to when he was human and pulled a knife on his brother when Paul was mentally vulnerable. We know that Louis’s recounting of Lestat often left out Lestat’s vulnerability, and the part of Lestat that Louis sparked with (for better and for worse) was Lestat’s more violent, tempestuous side. In this very episode, we see Louis rejecting Claudia’s fear about being threatened by Armand, and throwing her feelings of rejection back in her face (“You left me first!”).  Louis doesn’t have a lot of patience for vulnerability in general, and I think that’s why Dreamstat was there for Armand’s monologue about Armand’s early life. Dreamstat is an embodiment of Louis’s suspicions and frustrations, and when Armand was talking about not knowing who he is, of being trapped in a job he does not want… that’s when Dreamstat interrupts with a derogatory “HAH!”. To me that is Louis, expressing his frustration with Armand’s fragility and indecision. That’s Louis saying “make a CHOICE already.” And it makes sense that in the next sequence of scenes he takes action to help push Armand into making that choice. 

Earlier in the episode, when Armand is trying to teach Louis how to use the fire gift, Louis complains that it only works for him when he’s pissed off about something, and Armand mentions that he “tries to find the vulnerability in the object” in order to light it on fire. After Claudia leaves, Louis is angry at both Claudia and Armand, and that anger helps him light Armand’s photo on fire. But Louis has also found the vulnerability in Armand, which he demonstrates deftly in the scene on the bench. Telling Armand he’s wet but not moving to open the umbrella himself (You’re soaking wet, Louis…), waiting for Armand to use the fire gift to light his cigarette for him, encouraging Armand to play Santiago and the rest of the coven off against each other. This is all asserting control in a way that Louis now knows Armand will respond to. Most crucial, however, is his assertion that he’s “not an artist” and [he doesn’t] know too much about theatre. But [he] used to be real good at running things.” Things, of course, means brothels. And then Louis calls Armand Arun, the name he used when he was trafficked into sexual slavery. In one fell swoop, Louis rejects his art, his connection to humanity and goodness, and embraces his vampiric nature. Because vampires are killers, but they are also manipulators. And Louis is happily pushing directly on Armand’s weakness here, that he confessed to Louis in a moment of pure honesty. There is a part of Armand that is relieved to be back in this old pattern, to no longer have the burden of choice. And there’s a part of him that’s turned on by the submission, and a part of Louis that’s turned on by the domination. So Armand answers “yes maitre”, and we’ve officially embarked on the beginning of their 70 year long relationship, built on the back of both genuine desire and love as well as nefarious manipulation.  By the time we get to Dubai, it’s Armand manipulating Louis, using the ghost of his artistic ambition to somehow placate him by mixing up his photos with those of more accomplished artists. 

There’s another aspect to that bench scene, which is Louis’s final rejection of Dreamstat. I think there are a few reasons he decides to do this now. Claudia’s outburst is very Lestat-like in her anger, and I think Dreamstat’s reminder that Claudia is both Louis and Lestat’s daughter prompts Louis to separate himself from Claudia (by choosing Armand over her) and Lestat. Dreamstat has also evolved into a reminder of all things gentle and domestic to Louis. He has become the voice of Louis’s inner tenderness as well as his skepticism, and as we have already established, Louis does not like to be reminded of this. If he is going to make the tenuous balance between Claudia, Armand, Santiago, and the coven work, he cannot indulge in vulnerability, not now. And while Dreamstat might currently be in his tender era, Lestat himself still represents the vampire teacher to Louis. His anger, his control, his viciousness are things that Louis has previously rejected. But in this power move over Armand, we see him embracing all of those qualities. So in some ways he has simply progressed beyond his need for Lestat.  He no longer needs Dreamstat because he has taken on all of Lestat’s worst qualities himself.  I love how the way that he asserts control over Dreamstat mimics the way he asserts control over Armand. And I love how the effect of Dreamstat disappearing looks like paint bleeding into water or a photo developing in reverse. Louis leaves behind tenderness, Lestat, art, and leans into his own power. 

In Dubai, Louis is detached from his art and critical of it. There are some interesting parallels here with Daniel, who isn’t a visual artist, but does seem to consider his writing an art and tries to use that to reassure Louis. Much like Louis, Daniel thinks of himself as a distanced observer, writing about the vampires with an outside lens. But obviously he is about to discover how much “in frame” he actually is. 

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #my meta #armand #louis #lestat

[jgroffdaily]

A new interview with Jonathan at the BBC:

How did the role come about?

Oh my god! I got a very exciting text message from Russell T Davies, and I'm a huge fan of his work, especially It’s A Sin - I still haven't recovered from it! So I was very excited to hear from him. He just wrote to me and told me that there was this role that was available on the show and asked me to play it.

Can you describe your character Rogue?

Rogue is an alien bounty hunter and a man of mystery. When we meet Rogue, and he first meets the Doctor, we're in a Regency Era. Rogue is not necessarily who he appears to be when you meet him.

Have you always known of Doctor Who or been a fan of it? Or was this your first experience with the show?

I had known of Doctor Who and how much of a big deal it was in the UK, but I had never seen an episode of it. But Russell sent me about five episodes of Doctor Who from throughout the years, including the first episode that ever aired in black and white. So, I had a very quick crash course before I started.

What was the most challenging or unexpected thing about playing Rogue and stepping into the Whoniverse?

I would say the biggest challenge would be trying to understand and fit into the tone of the show - when you're coming in as a guest star, jumping into a world, and Doctor Who is such a specific thing! In the episodes that Russell showed me, and in the experience of playing a role in it, Doctor Who has such a fascinating tone. It's big, and it's larger than life, but it's also quite real and even though it's fantasy, there is depth to the storytelling and to the relationships. I'd say the biggest challenge was coming in and trying to digest the tone as fast as possible, and to really articulate the character in the proper way in the world of the show.

What was it like acting alongside Ncuti and Millie?

Ncuti and Millie were both so warm and welcoming! Big smiles and full of laughs and embraces, they could not have been more warm. As an outsider, coming into the Whoniverse for the first time, they were the greatest hosts! They took such good care of me and everybody, truly everybody on the set, the crew, everyone!

I spent most of my time with Ncuti and I am obsessed with him. I think he is such a star. He's so unpredictable and thrilling to act with because you never see the same thing twice. He's so spontaneous, and yet so deeply connected to what he's doing. He really cares. He's really in it fully, and he's got this force and positivity that is completely unique to him. It's just phenomenal. I just adore him. I think he is one of the most exciting actors working today.

Did you have any unique experiences or memories from filming?

Well, one happened off set, it actually happened to be when Beyoncé was on her Renaissance Tour. I looked up her tour dates because I'm an obsessive Beyoncé fan. And I found that she was playing Cardiff. I asked that I was off by 4pm so I could make it to the stadium. And I brought Ncuti with me. So we got to see the Renaissance Tour together and it was so much fun. Amazing.

If you could travel anywhere in time and space, where would yon

This is less of a fantasy one. But my grandfather died on my 10th birthday. March 26, 1995. And I was really into I Love Lucy at the time. And one of my gifts for my birthday was this VHS with an episode of I Love Lucy. I went into the living room and I watched my VHS instead of hanging out with my family in the kitchen where my grandfather was. So if I had to go back in time, I would go back in time and I would hang out with him so I could ask him questions before he died.

#jonathan groff #ncuti gatwa #millie gibson #doctor who #interview

[leprosycock]

what would you say are *thee* jlud streams. the definition jlud streams. the criterion collection if you will

- name your price + jrma’s hey donna episode double feature [insanely horny, chock full of extremely meta references to the narrative and condition of their relationship and the way they view each other, jrma is needlessly homosexual, they’re very touchy and flirty, “it’s always been me and you babe”, and qt is relentlessly jealous and possessive over lud throughout the entire hey donna episode in a way that she never is on any ordinary stream of hers. this double feature feels like it was written into an indie movie or something because of how tightly and perfectly it’s wound within their narrative and it’s insane]

- beerio kart [shakespearian. words can’t describe the utter yearning, longing, desperation, and desire displayed on screen.]

- juiced [one of the most sexually charged streams they’ve ever done together. tons and tons of physical contact, a ridiculous amount of tension, and a near breaking point that has to be seen to be believed. they choke each other’s own little world out in this stream.]

- dollhouse [you can’t beat the classics. it’s raw. it’s real. it’s the birth of summer love. the intricacies of it and how they both hide it behind layers and layers of fiction as they dance around each other for the very first time is foundational for them and their relationship. never forget that Iudwig stole holly’s choker and wore it for two days of shooting, making it integral to his costume.]

- bro vs bro [they have an insane amount of fun together, j is constantly writhing in embarrassing and the prison of his own self-awareness and insecurity, they play teacher/student, lud is a wrathful sick little freak, j writes fanfiction in his own head about how he was supposed to show up to lud’s house in a milk maid outfit. it’s nonstop thrills]

- chessboxing [AAAA. AAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK]

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

- the streamer awards 2022 [this was pretty painful to watch but their interactions were so valuable that it’s necessary to remark upon]

- risk [it’s spread out and pretty underrated but there are some really really good moments in this. jrma is mean and i don’t know why but it’s awesome]

- shufflemania [there is so much bullshit you have to fast forward through but the moments between the two of them are. like. Holy fuck it’s insane. this was during the divorce arc and they clearly wanted each other back so badly]

- the replacement stream [watching this feels like gargling a bucket of thumbtacks but it’s so unbelievably fascinating and it’s exhilarating to watch lud’s jealousy and resentment and possessiveness in action]

- battleship [soooooo cute so so so cute… watching them begin to fall in love with each other makes my heart ache :((((]

- first house flipper tournament [not nearly as insane as a lot of other streams but i go crazy for lud being a jealous crybaby piece of shit and begging for j’s attention and this is like candy in that regard]

#bunnyaskz

[lover-of-mine]

The thing I find fascinating is that the show runners are fully capable of writing engaging couples. Henren, Bathena & Madney – their relationships are beautiful. And then we have Buck and Eddie with their respective LIs. It’s almost as if they want the relationships to fail.

This season, they had every chance to set up Tommy as a suitable LI for Buck. But they didn’t? They didn’t even have to show a grand love confession or the likes, but at least some small gestures. Them holding hands in the hospital, Tommy dressing up for the bachelor party, being a little more sensitive when they ran into Eddie during that first date… Just a few simple things that would have made all the difference.

I feel like most of the love for Tommy comes from headcanons the fandom accepted as universal truths, while there isn’t much in canon to support it.

This isn’t meant to be hate on the character (though it probably will be taken that way by certain people), it’s just that I don’t think he is a good fit for Buck. He’s guarded and deflects with a dry sense of humor, when Buck needs a person to be vulnerable with. You know, someone who is so soft and sickeningly sweet with him. So far, I didn’t get much of the sorts from Tommy. But then again, we didn’t get to see a whole lot of the relationship actually playing out on screen, so who knows.

And the other thing that started to bother me is about the daddy issue thing. There is nothing wrong with showing (or alluding to) a couple having an active/kinky sex life. In general, I’m all in favor of it.

But looking back at season one, Buck used sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism to feel a connection to people. And he doesn’t have the best relationship with sex to begin with (Remember 7x05 and the talk with Eddie, where it hadn’t occurred to either of them that saying no is an option? Doesn’t sound healthy to me.) If they wanted to set Tommy apart, they should have put all their efforts into building an emotional connection between the two. I’m not saying that sex can’t be a part of it - not even that it can’t be kinky - but that the show should have put much more emphasis on the emotional aspect of it rather than the physical attraction.

Maybe it’s just wonky writing due to a shortened season but the relationship between the two isn’t half as good as it could have been.

No, but I made a post about this during the s6-7 hiatus, because it's not like the show doesn't know how to establish a love interest, bathena and madney work because all of them exist individually and Henren was introduced to us in a way where we would side with Karen, so even tho Karen only exists to be Hen's wife we care about her in a deeper way because Karen has never done anything wrong in her life. With Buck and Eddie all of the love interests are presented to us with something wrong with them. Shannon never had a fighting chance because she left and Eddie himself was never sure about her, Eddie was dating Ana and Marisol because he thought he had to, and I'm not even gonna go there with Kim. Abby breaks every possible protocol to call Buck, and she's never in it in the same way Buck is, Taylor tries to take advantage of Bobby's addiction for her personal gain and continues to take advantage of him to get ahead, Ali is never there, Natalia is too interested in Buck's death and Tommy is callous. There's a weird metaphor in there, but the basketball scene, the way Buck hits Tommy and ricochets back and Tommy doesn't even flinch. Buck needs someone who will bend. But the show didn't even try to establish an emotional connection between the two of them, everything comes back to the physical and with a character like Buck, who was shown using sex as a bad coping mechanism, to constantly make it seem like this new relationship isn't going beyond the sex is concerning. There were better ways to imply they are having sex. Even more considering the way the show had the opportunity to make it seem like they are building some sort of emotional connection and just chose not to. Every scene we had with the 2 of them could be rewritten adding the idea that they actually care about each other beyond the attraction, and that's a choice. To go the route they went is a choice. I'm still not over the way they had Tommy not dressing up and then Eddie suggesting matching outfits in the next scene. Like, it was that easy because they showed Eddie doing it. And I don't wanna compare, but with the constant triangle formation and the way they were showing Eddie as the person who understands Buck and Tommy as the dude Buck is fucking, we have nothing happening in our screen that makes it seem like Tommy is even a little fond of Buck and all I can think about is Buck standing in front of a hot air balloon with a huge bouquet of flowers for a woman who referred to him as a boytoy. Buck deserves someone who's gone for him and none of his canon love interests gave me that impression. And they make a very explicit choice to not make that implication. They could've been something, but right now they aren't. If you just watch the show you don't know why they are dating. They are just there. And coming from a show that wrote bathena, madney, and henren, and the way that Tommy being a firefighter gives him a fighting chance because it's real easy to make him exist outside of Buck, it's on purpose.

#i think there is a wonky writing aspect #i dont think they thought bt was going to be well received and decided to capitalize on the publicity for longer #but they are not putting any effort into it #911 #911 spoilers #i really need a tag for asks #anti bucktommy #intellectual-applesauce

[the-nerdiest-insanity]

Home Is With You

Also on Ao3

Day 3 of the Dead Boy Detectives Pride Month Prompts- "I miss home"

Three days after returning from Port Townsend, a new case sent the trio out of the country again. The boys barely had a chance to start accommodating the office, and Crystal hadn’t even figured out where she would want to stay in London yet. Someone from Crystal’s past, currently residing in Ireland, needed their assistance. Apparently, old Crystal threw around information on her powers as freely as her parents’ money.

A painful hour and a half flight later, the agency had landed in Dublin. Crystal was attempting to calm the boys down the whole time, telling them it would be a quick and easy case. Edwin was making it well known that he still objected to traveling the long way even though the other two clearly saw how fascinated he was with air travel every time. Oddly, Charles was pacing both the airport and the plane like a caged animal the whole time. He brushed off both Crystal and Edwin’s advances in conversation, constantly keeping his head on a swivel. 

Crystal’s friend, Emily, picked them up from the airport while debriefing them on the current status of the case. Emily recently moved into a new apartment, and it appeared to be haunted. Objects of hers disappearing, banging in the night, things moving through the air on their own, etcetera. Crystal shot the boys a few looks, attempting to tell them, “See? Easy.” Edwin still appeared annoyed, and Charles agitated.

The drive was short, and they were swiftly at Emily’s door. As she was about to turn the handle, she turned back to Crystal, saying, “Be careful walking around in there.” Her eyes drifted passed Crystal’s shoulder to look at the boys. “All of you.”

Charles instinctively reached an arm in front of Edwin while reaching one toward the back of Crystal’s jacket. “Crystal, wait–”

Emily opened the door, and a black cat scrambled out through everyone’s legs. The agency members all jumped back while Emily sighed, “Tinks, what did we discuss about scaring new people?”

The cat squinted at their owner and meowed indignantly. 

“They’re here to stop whoever or whatever is messing with us, so play nice,” Emily replied.

Tinks glanced over the newcomers, their gaze lingering momentarily on Edwin. Charles stepped slightly in front of the other ghost. Seemly satiated, Tinks trotted back into the apartment.

“Sorry about her,” Emily said, now moving in as well, “She’s very territorial, especially with everything strange going on.”

The detectives lingered outside the door, staring in. They could see a sitting room on the left with a connected kitchen and a short hallway on the right leading likely to Emily’s bedroom or whatever other rooms she had. In the bit of the kitchen they could see, there were herbs hanging to dry with a bookshelf separating it from the living room. A couple of the books had copies on the agency’s shelves.

Charles gently grabbed Crystal’s arm and led her a couple more steps away from the door. “You didn’t tell us your friend knew about the supernatural.”

Crystal looked just as stunned and confused. “I didn’t know! She wasn’t this invested in it the last time I saw her.” She glanced around the still-empty complex hallway and stepped closer to whisper, “The last time I saw her was three years ago when I made out with her girlfriend after she told me she thought I was hot. I wasn’t exactly keeping tabs on her lifestyle choices after that.”

“Did you really lead us to a different country yet again to help someone who, this time, actively dislikes you, last you knew?” Edwin butted in, having overheard.

“I’m trying to be a better person,” Crystal defended. “In case you forgot, and part of that is trying to help people I hurt and fix our broken relationships.”

“Alright,” Charles broke the two up harshly. “Let’s just get the information we need and get out of here. I don’t like the feel of this place.”

“Are you three going to come in or just keep whispering about me at my door?” Emily asked.

Edwin and Crystal both huffed. “Let us begin our investigation,” Edwin declared before finally entering the house.

…

Three hours later, they were getting nowhere. None of the strange phenomena occurred, and physically searching the place came up empty. It was getting dark, so Crystal politely declined Emily’s spare bedroom in favor of going to the hotel she’d booked.

Crystal threw down her small bag and flopped onto the bed. “Don’t wake me until 9 or there’s a fire,” she mumbled into a pillow, knowing the boys would get the gist.

Edwin sat down on the couch, flipping through his notes to see if he might have missed any possible leads. Emily clearly can see ghosts and communicate with supernatural creatures, so why can’t she see what’s in her apartment? Unless they were using some form of cloaking, but he’d need something more specific. “Charles, do you have…” Edwin trailed off as he looked up at his partner. Charles was pacing again. His brow was furrowed as his hands were opening and clenching at his sides. “Are you alright, Charles?” Edwin asked instead.

Charles stopped and plastered on a smile. He opened his mouth before letting his face fall and rethinking his words. “I just…” He fidgeted with his jacket’s zipper. “It’s been a lot lately, yeah?” He began slowly pacing once more. “I mean, Post Townsend was a whole thing itself, then we barely get a moment’s peace at the office before being shuffled off to another country again. Plus, we got Charlie and Crystal, and we’ve still got no idea what Jenny’s doing. We went to Hell, got tortured, and lost Niko and…” He stopped pacing, grunting in frustration.

Edwin stood, trying to figure out how to help when Charles continued, “Don’t get me wrong, Crystal and everyone, they’re aces, but I just miss us, you know? It was so much easier.” Charles stopped and turned to stare Edwin down. He was breathing heavily looking on the verge of tears. “I miss home,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Before Edwin had a chance to wonder what Charles’s parents had to do with this, he was being enveloped in a hug. Oh. That kind of home.

Carefully, Edwin reciprocated, holding tightly as Charles hiccupped sobs onto his shoulder. As the tears slowly died out, Edwin gently and firmly said, “Home will always be right here. I’m not leaving, and you certainly won’t let anything take me away.” Charles huffed out a weak laugh. “We’ll be back at the agency very soon, and I will talk to both Crystal and the Night Nurse about not taking any long-distance cases for a year.”

Charles sniffled and pulled away just enough to look at Edwin as he said, “You don’t have to do that, mate. It’s fine.”

Edwin squeezed his shoulder, refusing to let go until the other did. “No, it’s not. I don’t like these types of cases either, and we shouldn’t have to push ourselves. We didn’t for thirty years and shouldn’t change now for others.”

Charles’s eyes fluttered over Edwin’s face, making him want to look away. Softly, Charles brought their heads together. “Never change, Edwin Payne,” he whispered.

“Nor you, Charles Rowland.:

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