#at that point you start hedging your bets

[bluegiragi]

konig reminisces with horangi over his short-lived stint as an underground boxer in his teenage years...

more on patreon (plus the nsfw follow-up comic)

bonus:

#so its my headcanon that konig used to fight in a pretty shady underground boxing ring as a teenager #it was his first real opportunity to let some of his feral energy and strength out #he was only there for a year or two before the ring unfairly ousted him #after all its not good for business for one person to stay king for too long #at that point you start hedging your bets #konig got left with nothing by the end of it and he joined up shortly after #and his 'king of the ring' moniker ended up inspiring his operator name later in his life #also yes hello hi horangi #ill be exploring these two together more in the future <3 #im glad to be back with my pathetic cat man #korangi #horangi #konig #cod mw2 #giragi art

[ellephlox]

Lie Detector

Pairing: Matt x f!reader

Summary: Matt thinks that you can't successfully lie to him. The only way to settle the dispute is to challenge one another to a bet, but trying to deceive a human lie detector isn't quite as easy as you'd expect.

A/N: Finally on summer break and I've had time to do some writing. I'm really drawn to a reader/matt dynamic that's super competitive, so... here we are, with yet another "game". Hope it's alright!

Sometimes, having a lie detector as a boyfriend sucked.

You realized this early on, when all of the sudden the white lies that you told habitually in order to protect others' feelings crumbled into a big dust cloud of useless whenever Matt heard them.

Last week at supper, for instance. Matt had cooked a beautiful meal — homemade rolls, oven-roasted vegetables, and your favorite pasta — and it was all delicious. Except for one experimental vegetable thrown in that you were... less fond of, to say the least.

But of course he asked you if you liked it, of course he did.

"It's incredible," you told him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "The pasta is cooked perfectly. Also, homemade rolls? I mean, these can't even compare to the local bakeries. It's all really good, Matt."

"And the... new vegetable?" he asked, taking a bite.

Shit.

You sat stock still for half a second, your mind whirring. Fortunately, you'd gotten better at dodging situations where typically you would just save yourself with a white lie, but with Matt, there was rarely a safe way out of a question.

"It's got such a unique flavor!" you said warmly. Truth. "I don't think I've ever had it before. Where'd you get the recipe?"

"Foggy's sister. It is unique," he agreed. "You like the taste?"

Damn it. Something told you that Matt suspected you didn't like it; why else would he be so persistent about asking? "It's so unexpected," you hedged. "You cooked it really well."

Which was also a truth. The texture was good, at least; Matt had roasted it perfectly. It was the flavor you were less keen on, and you had to fight the urge to drink water after every bite.

Matt's lips turned upwards. "Sweetheart, you don't have to choke it down for me."

From there, everything unraveled. "I love it," you tried to say, but Matt's eyebrows were raising and you yourself could feel that your heart was speeding up. "Really! I love it, it's fantastic—"

You loaded your fork with it, preparing to take a large bite out of a manic desire to ensure Matt didn't find out the truth, but he deftly reached forward and grabbed your wrist. "Lost cause, Y/N." His thumb grazed your wrist, as though to match the sensation of your pulse to what he could hear.

You reluctantly put the fork down. "Come on, Matt, stop reading me for once! You cooked a beautiful supper and I want you to know how much I appreciate it—"

"You can appreciate it while letting me know you don't like a certain type of food. I promise my ego isn't dependent on a single vegetable."

"But I feel bad!" you protested. "And with anyone else, I would have just lied and said it's amazing, but with you, I have to be a schmuck about it!"

"You're not a schmuck."

"Matt, I'm a schmuck." You pointed at yourself. "Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad schmuck. Plus, it's unfair. I'm sure you lie to me all the time, and I probably just don't even notice it. Like last week, when I asked you if I have a nice voice to listen to and you told me that me that it's music to your ears, or some crap like that."

"It is music to my ears."

"I call bullshit. Unless by 'music' you meant death metal or country."

"So start lying to me," Matt said, his fingers absently moving up your forearm. "If you're able to control your nervousness when you do it."

"Is that a challenge? I'm sensing a challenge."

Matt was smiling now, and it wasn't his charming smile, it was what you thought of as his shit-eating grin. "Aw, let's not call it a challenge. I know how upset you get when you lose."

"That's it." You slapped his hand away from your arm. "Prepare to be lied to. Constantly. And if I succeed, and you don't notice that I've lied to you, then you have to..." You thought for a moment. "You'll have to wear your Daredevil suit to Foggy's when we have dinner with him and Karen on Sunday night."

Matt's smile dropped instantly. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Um, obviously because it would be hilarious seeing you uncomfortable, and Foggy and Karen would take some awesome pictures of you?"

He grit his teeth as though contemplating. "Fine. And if I win, and I notice every lie, you can go through all of the old archives sitting in Karen's filing cabinet at Nelson and Murdock and make copies so that they can all be organized by legal topic as well as by date."

"What? How is that fair? That's hours of my time!"

"I thought you said you were confident that you'd win?"

"Well. Yeah." You leaned over to playfully shove at him. "Okay, then. I'm in."

"But if you actually are apprehensive about this bet, then we don't have to do the challenge. I won't hold it against you."

Bold way to throw down the gauntlet, Matt. There was no backing out now. "Nope. Deal accepted," you said, and stood up to clear the plates. "Oh, and by the way, I don't get 'upset' when I lose. I'm a fantastic loser."

"Lie," Matt said, almost lazily.

Damn.

That was how it began. Of course, together you enumerated more rules, both printed and in braille, and posted them on the fridge.

Rule Number One: A lie had to be the subject of whatever you were talking about. It couldn't be a throw-away comment unrelated to the conversation itself, nor could it be anything so minor that it didn't even matter. It was forbidden to, for example, tell Matt about your day and say green shirt when you were actually referring to a blue shirt and count that as a lie. It had to stand on its own, loud and proud.

Rule Number Two: You had forty-eight hours to complete the challenge. Which, admittedly, didn't give you a lot of time. Matt was on his guard every time you opened your mouth, which meant you'd have to be strategic about this, if you wanted to win.

Rule Number Three: The lie had to be delivered in heartbeat earshot. That meant you couldn't lie to him through text messages or a long distance phone call.

Rule Number Four: If Matt falsely accused you of lying more than twice, then you won. You argued this rule in as a safeguard; otherwise, he could call out your lies on whims without any consequences.

And, finally, Rule Number Five: A lie had an expiration on it of ten seconds. If Matt didn't name the lie within ten seconds of you delivering it, then you won. You had even argued for more time, but it was Matt who had told you, with a particularly cocky wave of his hand, that he'd sense it within that time.

Several times you had tried lying to him since the start of the challenge. Each time, he'd sniffed it out immediately — almost instinctively, even — so that it was almost embarrassing at how readable you were.

"You heading out tonight for patrol?" you asked him when you emerged from the shower that night, wearing only a tee of Matt's and a towel around your head.

"Only for a bit. I've got to catch up on some paperwork this evening."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No, it's just prep for my opening next Wednesday." Matt tilted back in his chair, stretching with a restlessness that told you he'd much prefer to be out on the rooftops than reading through paperwork.

"Well, let me know if there's anything I can do," you said, and then added the lie: "I'll go do some reading, then."

Matt didn't hesitate. "What're you really going to be doing?"

You scrunched your nose at him, irritated. "And I thought I was so nonchalant. My heart is a traitor. Slow down, you." You slapped at your upper chest and lied again. "I actually wanted to do some online shopping. I need a new pair of sunglasses."

"No, you don't."

You released a dramatic exhale. "Fine! I'm going to journal a bit."

Matt listened for a moment, and then nodded, clearly placated. "I'll come say bye before I head out."

And then you even thought that you might get him when he came back, because it was past two in the morning and he'd taken a faster shower than usual — an indication he was anxious to get to bed —but when he crawled under the covers, apparently he was still on guard.

"Come in closer," you whispered, half-asleep yourself despite your hope of lying to him. "I meant to stay up for you, but I fell asleep."

Which wasn't true, even though you did often stay up for him. Tonight you had slipped into bed and fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

But Matt caught it; his hand nudged at your arm to acknowledge the lie. "Even this late, you're still trying to win the bet?"

Loopholes in the rules were hard to find, you realized. Matt seemed to appreciate your attempts to bypass them the next day — in fact, the closest you came to successfully lying was that morning, when you had about thirty-two hours left in the challenge. You had left to pick up bread for breakfast, and had just stepped out onto the street when you put your plan into action and dialed Matt's number.

Because technically, here on the street, right below the apartment, Matt could still hear your heartbeat, if he sought it out. But you hoped that if you were talking with him over the phone, then he wouldn't pay attention, and that he'd be distracted by the background fuzz of the call.

"Hey," you said, walking slowly down the sidewalk; you didn't want to be accused of leaving the earshot radius. "I just got a text from Foggy. He asked if I could bring that book I was telling him about the other day to dinner tomorrow night. Is it still on my dresser or did I return it to the library? I can't remember."

It was a clever lie, you thought. You had told Foggy about the book, and he did text you about bringing it to dinner. You did, however, specifically remember leaving the book on the dresser and not bringing it to the library the other day. It wasn't violating Rule Number One, either, because the question you asked Matt pertained directly to the lie.

There was a brief noise on the other end of the line as Matt presumably cocked his head, sweeping his senses out for a book on your dresser. In your head, you counted down the time. Ten... nine... eight... seven... six...

"The thick one?"

"Yeah."

Four... three... two...

"Lie," he said suddenly, and you could hear the smile on his face. "Nice try. Almost got me on that one."

"Crap," you said, sighing and adjusting your jacket as you picked up the pace, crossing the street after taking a quick glance left and right.

"If the lie hadn't been about a book, I wouldn't have thought to listen to your heart," he continued. "You care too much about your books to not know whether you've returned one to the library or not."

"Crap," you said again, but this time it was because the convenience store was closed; you'd have to go a couple blocks further to the larger supermarket. "Matt, I'm going to take a few minutes longer. The store's not open until nine."

Matt was quiet for a moment. "If that was a lie, that doesn't count. I can't hear your heartbeat from here."

"Nope. It's the truth. Anything else you want me to pick up while I'm at the grocery store? Ibuprofen, Advil, ice packs?"

Matt answered, but you didn't hear; an idea was formulating in your mind. "Sorry?" you said after a moment, picking up your pace as rain began to fall.

"Just more tea, I think."

"On it. See you in a bit," you said, and hung up.

Rule Number Four, you realized, was your ticket to winning. If you could get Matt to call you out on a lie when you weren't lying — and if you could get him to do it three times — you'd win.

So, the trick was to get your heart rate going at precisely the right moment. You left the grocery store with bread, tea, and a large espresso from the café next door.

And, miraculously, it worked. You walked in, your heart already feeling a bit more spry since you downed much, much more caffeine in the span of five minutes than you typically had over the course of an entire day, announced to Matt that the grocery store had been strangely busy today, and—

"Lie," he said, almost without even paying attention.

"Ha!" you said triumphantly, setting the bread down on the counter. "Wrong, Murdock!"

His brow furrowed. "What?" You could see him reaching out with his senses now, seeking what his mistake was, and...

"Espresso," he said, so quietly and forlornly that you laughed. "Damn. Your heart is racing."

"Brilliant, right? The grocery store really was packed." You waved the bread at him. "I'm starving. Can we make French toast with this?"

"Yeah. And don't get too happy yet, sweetheart. You haven't won yet."

"And there's the key word: yet," you reminded him.

Matt was on guard after that, so you waited the rest of the day before trying again; too often, and each effort would be futile. You could tell he was listening with far more diligence every time you spoke, and while it was slightly unnerving knowing that your heart rate was under constant scrutiny, it was worth it. Matt felt threatened that you would win. Even if you didn't end up winning the bet, that gave you enough pleasure to make the entire game worthwhile no matter what happened.

Step Two was getting Matt to watch a horror movie. You were a bit limited in your options, since Netflix didn't have many scary movies with audio descriptions available, but you agreed on one eventually and started it only once the sun had set.

And you waited. Waited, with Matt's arm wrapped around you, watching the movie and letting yourself get absorbed in it, because you were relying on your own natural adrenal responses to secure you the next false lie through Rule Number Four.

Fortunately, it was actually terrifying, so it didn't take much effort for you to feel a chill genuinely running up your spine.

"A door slowly creaks open," the audio description narrated. "The bathroom mirror suddenly swivels open. Standing in the reflection is a dark figure."

You physically jumped — thank you, jump scare — and seized the opportunity as your heart beat doubtlessly spiked. "Matt, I found some fan fiction that people posted online about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. And I read it. Every last bit."

Matt's confusion was so palpable that you had to bite back a laugh. He reached over for the remote and paused the movie, his head tilted. "This feels against the rules."

"And yet, it's not," you said, rubbing his arm. "So, was that a lie? Or not? I'll give you a solid ten seconds starting now to answer."

"You can't just say something insane at the very moment your heart rate jumps from a movie!"

"Tick, tock."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again — you'd make a good lawyer."

"Aw. Thank you. Five. Four. Three."

"Come on!"

"Two. One."

"Lie," he decided, his jaw tight. "And for your sake, I truly hope it's a lie, because there better not be people writing fan fiction about me—"

"Sadly, it's the truth, Matt. Both that people have written it and that... I've..." You trailed off at the look on Matt's face. "Uh, that I might've possibly glanced over some of it."

"Please tell me there's not much of it."

"Um... well, there's a fair amount. People are fascinated by real life vigilantes, I guess. If you wanted you could always sue them for defamation."

"Sue? Sue as Daredevil? Show up to court wearing the suit?"

"Better yet, hire Nelson and Murdock as your lawyers, and you can switch back and forth during the trial between your lawyer suit and Daredevil suit, playing both roles. It'd be hilarious, like a real-life Mrs. Doubtfire moment."

"You find all this so amusing, don't you?" Matt tipped you back, his hands against the back of the sofa and caging you in. Goosebumps pricked up your arms as you glanced at his forearms; he'd rolled up his sleeves, and you could see the toned muscle in the dim lighting.

"Not at all," you said, your voice a bit higher.

"Lie," he breathed out, and leaned in to kiss you.

The next day passed, with every hour sliding by and bringing you nearer to the end of the bet. Once again you didn't dare press your luck, and chose to instead act naturally. The following morning and midday passed without only one or two halfhearted attempts to lie. ("Matt, did you hear that Captain America is starting up his own jazz band and he's going to be doing a world tour?" "Yeah, I did, right after the news segment announcing Black Panther's new clothing line of lingerie that he's founded.")

The loophole of Rule Number Four, however, was proving to be no longer viable as your winning method. Matt caught on to every truth that was meant to make him accidentally call you out on lying. In desperation you even did fifty jumping jacks to raise your heart rate, to Matt's amusement, but he had somehow latched onto the subtle difference between a heart rate raised by the adrenaline of exertion as opposed to the adrenaline of a lie.

So — you'd have to brainstorm instead.

With only about an hour to go until the bet ended, you set your alarm on your phone to go off just three minutes shy of the actual forty-eight hour mark.

The only challenge now was making sure Matt didn't check his own watch between now and the alarm.

"Time's almost up," he said, with the audacity to smirk at you, catching your arm as you went by him towards the bedroom. "Where are you headed?"

"To get something presentable on for supper," you said, gesturing down at your outfit.

"Karen and Foggy wouldn't mind if you showed up wearing that."

"I love you, Matt, but I look like a clown right now. I wish you could see the color combinations I've got going on. Think blue raspberry slushie dumped on top of black raspberry ice cream."

"Well, if you're changing, then what should I wear?" he said, mockery edging his voice. "That plaid shirt you got me? A white top? Or a sweatshirt? Y'know, since I won't be wearing the Daredevil suit, of course."

"Don't speak too soon. We still have a few minutes left." The bet still had five minutes, in fact; but the alarm would go off on your phone in two minutes. On a sudden whim you wrapped your arms around him, loosely holding your hands together around his neck as though you were about to slow dance together. Matt's hands naturally went to your waist, fingers grazing your hip bones. "If, in the extremely unlikely case that I do lose, you should wear your loose-fitted button-down from your birthday last year."

"Is that too fancy?"

"I don't think so. I'll be wearing a sundress. It's casual enough."

Matt spun you around, backing you into the wall. His eyes were intense, unblinking. "I know you're trying to keep my attention off of you. It's not going to work. I know you too well."

"Maybe you know less about me than you think," you challenged him.

"I doubt it."

"You'd be surprised, Matt. I've got secrets and ways of keeping them."

"Want to play that game, love? Because I can play that game." He tilted up your chin with his left hand. "That mosquito bite on your neck is still itching you, even if you've resisted scratching at it. You've still got the taste of mint in the back of your throat from when you brushed your teeth a few hours ago." His hand left your chin and brushed at your temple. "You got dehydrated this morning and had a headache, but it's gone away now. And your blush is practically a heat lamp right now, getting hotter with every second."

"Point taken," you muttered, but Matt wasn't finished.

"Down here," he continued, his hand now trailing down to your lower arm, "there's a bit of residue from the jam you got on your forearm during breakfast."

"I washed it off!"

"And I can still smell it." Matt lightly let go of you. "I could continue, if you'd like."

And then — your phone buzzed out a loud jingle, jolting both of you simultaneously. You fumbled in your pocket for your phone, shutting off the alarm. "Shit."

"Time's up," Matt said, with far too much pleasure in his voice. "I'm looking forward to spending a day at the office with you. Maybe we go in on the weekend?"

"Saturday I'm free," you said, as casually as you could possibly muster. "On Sunday I'm visiting a friend."

Which was a complete lie.

And Matt...

Didn't notice.

"We'll go in early," he said. "I had to go in this weekend anyway to get work done."

"Mm," you said, counting down the ten seconds in your head. "And I'm assuming you wanted me to help organize the files so that you wouldn't have to go into the office alone this weekend? This was all a ploy to get some company?"

"Of course. What kind of weekend would it be if I didn't get to spend it with my favorite person?"

"Foggy will take offense to that."

"Well, maybe I'll invite him too. And Karen. We can have a whole work-weekend at Nelson and—"

"Yes!" you shouted, so loudly that Matt tensed, as though scanning the room for a threat. "Get your suit on, Matt!" Without waiting for his answer you strode to the closet and pulled out the familiar red suit and mask. "A certain swindled devil now needs to make his appearance at a certain dinner party tonight."

Matt's expression was baffled. "But I won."

"Check your watch."

His fingers immediately felt for his watch, and then his face dropped. "You set the alarm early."

"And then proceeded to successfully lie about visiting a friend on Sunday. Oh, I can't wait to see Karen and Foggy's reaction when you arrive on the fire escape, dressed to the vigilante nines—"

"I can't believe you."

"Me either," you admitted. "I was getting nervous towards the end."

"I can't believe you," Matt repeated. "You're going to pay, sweetheart. That was playing dirty."

"Enjoy your retribution sometime else," you told him, tossing the mask over. He caught it, plucking it from the air without turning his head in the slightest. "We've got a dinner party to go to."

And maybe you'd still go into the office that weekend to help him out, you decided, a bit of guilt still stirring inside you, because he did just want you to be there with him, keeping him company.

After all, having a lie detector for a boyfriend really wasn't so bad.

#daredevil #marvel #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #reader #reader insert #x reader #mcu #matt murdock x fem!reader

[ozarkthedog]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 · 𝐋𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

summary: lloyd offers solace if you make it through the maze. “but if I catch you...” his eyes darken with a ravenous glint, “your body is fair game.”

warnings: lloyd hansen x fem!reader. basement wife. chase kink. prey/predator behavior. rough and nasty everything cause it’s lloyd. threats/taunts. oral sex. slight spit play. anal play. penetration with a knife handle. cream pie. sex in a hedge maze. soft!lloyd. slight aftercare. no beta.

word count: 3570

author’s note: this is one of my fav kinks ever. i hope you all love this as much as i do. 💙gif credit: @lilacevans​

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾  

“But I stayed on the grounds!” You argue, fists clenching at your sides.

Lloyd spins on his feet and stalks towards you. Subtle rage furrows his brow as he walks you back into one of the elegantly designed walls. He leans a hand against the wall, high over your head pressing his much larger body into yours, and sighs through his nose. 

“Let’s compromise shall we?” He offers with a wicked smile. “You make it to the end of the maze and I won’t punish you. I’ll even tell the guys to back off the next time you want to go for a walk.” 

Your eyes glimmer with hope until his head cocks to the side. He leers down at you like a lion with its big paw on struggling prey. “But if I catch you,” his eyes darken with a ravenous glint, “your body is fair game.”

Your stomach drops. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Plus, you’ll get some of that exercise you were looking for. It’s a win win.” He says boisterously as he clamps an arm around your shoulder. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Plus, you’ll get some of that exercise you were looking for. It’s a win win.” He says boisterously as he clamps an arm around your shoulder. 

You look up at him with uneasy eyes. 

Lloyd soaks up your worried frown. The thought of chasing you down and claiming you always made his cock swell. 

He shuffles the two of you into the foyer. “I’ll give you a head start considering you don’t have shoes on and cause your legs are smaller than mine.” He jests and bops you on the nose. 

You dumbly look down at your bare feet and then back up to him with doe eyes.

He raises a pointed finger, “Ah ah- you don’t wanna dig a deeper hole for yourself now, do you?”

Lloyd unlocks one of the massive double doors. “You get 2 minutes, Buttercup.” He waves a hand towards the maze and his playful smirk suddenly drops into a hard line. “Then I’m coming after you. Like I said, fair game.” 

You don’t waste a second. 

You run out of the foyer and across the courtyard, dashing up the steps to the entry of the hedge maze in a flash. The setting sun illuminates the extravagant yard in a wash of dusky purples and orange hues.

You stand uneasy on the precipice of the giant labyrinth with its green, leafy walls soaring high into the sky. You’d completed the maze once before but it was with Lloyd by your side. He’d lived in the gigantic chateau for years and traversed the winding maze many times so he knew it like the back of his hand.

You bite your lip as you stare into the mossy alley. It wasn’t a good bet that you could beat him at his own game. Countless times he’d set you up to fail and you walked right into his trap. 

This didn’t bode well for you.

“I’d get moving. Tick tock!” Lloyd’s voice bellows across the yard. You stare back at him as he leans cooly against the immaculate doorway biding his time. 

You grit your teeth and take one last look at the stoic man before gathering your white, flowy dress in your palms and sprinting into the verdant maze.

Shades of pine and juniper whip by in a hurried frenzy as you race one foot in front of the other. 

You take a left and then a right as you begin your journey into the winding maze. You remembered the first few turns and that there was a statute pointing to the exit of the maze but the rest was a blur.

Each step is anguish as stones dig into your bare soles. You curse him under your breath as you take a right turn and run past one of the many marble statues that line the corridors. 

Lloyd made it clear when you arrived at the Chateau that you were his property. He dressed you only in sheer white dresses and forbid any shoes unless you were going outside. He liked you half nude and barefoot. 

You stop short, almost twisting your ankle on the rocks when a sinister voice hollers from behind. 

It was Lloyd. 

“Time’s up, Sunshine!” He yells from the entryway. “Ready or not, your ass is mine!”

You roll your eyes at him acting like this was some twisted version of a children's game and like your mind and body weren’t on the line.  

Pins and needles puncture your lungs as you run fast around each corner. He’s clearly gaining on you as the booming footfalls get closer and closer. 

“Buttercup…”

His taunting voice echoes over the hedges. It slithers into your spine and makes you quiver. You force yourself to keep moving despite the constant heckles and the urge to submit.

“Why you runnin’ from me?” 

It doesn’t even sound like he’s chasing you, more like he’s stalking you. Waiting for the opportune time to strike. 

“You scared of me? Scared of big bad Lloyd?”

Tears prick your eyes every time you turn a corner, imaging he’s laying in wait, ready to take you down and make you pay for your disobedience. 

A sharp left and then straight for 5 paces, another sharp left, and then a clearing emerges. 

It’s the center of the labyrinth.

You’re halfway to freedom. 

“I won’t hurt you!” He yells. His voice is so clear it sounds like he's right next to you. “I’m just gonna fuck you into the ground. Maybe choke you a little. That ain’t too bad!”

You run into the core of the maze as his taunting gets louder. Blood pounds in your ears with every step and your dress clings to your dewy flesh.

A large fountain sits directly in the center with small hedges and shrubs circling it. Dim, yellow hues light the yard while a handful of stone benches and statues fill out the rest of the area.

Your eyes dart around the arena looking for a place to hide as the sound of crunching stone gets closer. You race towards one of the small hedges and dive behind it. Rocks clink when your body hits the ground just as Lloyd turns the corner. 

His heavy footfalls cease. It’s deadly silent. Only your heart beat and the splashing water from the fountain burst in your ears. 

Your body shakes with primal fear as he stalks around the center of the labyrinth.

“I know you’re here,” Lloyd muses, darkly. “I can smell you.”

You’re core instinctively clenches. Despite the anxiety and adrenaline, your panties are sticking to your cunt. You’re absolutely soaked.

“Oh Buttercup.” He sings melodically. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Your fingers dig nervously into the rocks. You eye one of the various exits out of the center and wonder if you can make a run for it. 

“Listen, I'll do my best to not go too hard on you.” He says with a chuckle as he dips a finger into the water testing the temp. “Who am I kidding? I can’t do soft. Unless it’s soft serve Mint Chocolate Chip. M’mm M’m! That shit’s delicious!”

You catch the whimper in your throat before it escapes. Your heart pumps frantically in your chest and you scream at yourself to run as the sounds of crunching stones get closer. 

Then the crunching stops.

Your eyes whip open just in time to see a dark, massive shadow gliding over the uneven stones and smothering your own.

“Here’s Lloyd!” He yells, manically next to your head.

You shriek and shove a hard elbow up and back landing a solid hit to his nose. A jarring crunch and a painful grunt echo into the dusky sky. 

“GOD DAMNIT!” Lloyd stamps his foot, hollering in pain.

You narrowly escape his clutches as you jump to your feet and race out of the clearing. Bile rises in your throat knowing the monster is not far behind. White billows behind you, dancing chaotically as you sprint for your life down a random corridor.

Your mind spins and your chest heaves but you continue to run as you hear him closing in. 

“I applaud you, Buttercup. I really do.” He praises you while stalking close behind. “Never thought you had it in you.” Lloyd sounds partially impressed by your display of strength. “But you’re gonna pay for that little outburst.”

You hiccup in fear and race down another stretch of green, running until your heart feels like it’s about to burst through your ribcage. 

After a few more turns, you stop. You listen for any sign of Lloyd but all you hear are the chirps of crickets. You slump against the greenery and take a deep breath before peering down the corridor in front of you. 

Elated tears spring to your eyes when you gaze upon the exit to the maze. Not more than 20 feet straight ahead, stands a glorious marble statue pointing the way to freedom.

Your body lights with newfound energy and you hightail it towards the opening despite your bruised feet and seared lungs. Your eyesight is a blurry, watery mess of green and stone as you run with all your might.

With all the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you couldn’t help but laugh. You did it. You beat the bastard at his own game. 

The fear starts to die down when abruptly your world flips–

“Caught ya!”

A hand ensnares your dress and your body whiplashes in slow motion. Your fingers graze the open air of the exit before he tosses you to the ground.

The wind knocks from your lungs. You sputter and cough as you reach toward the exit with desperate hands.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I step on your moment?” He sneers before grasping your feet and dragging you across the rocks to his feet. 

You hastily dig your fingers into the rocks and scream, wildly kicking your feet as Lloyd laughs madly. “I’ve got you now, my pretty!” Lloyd quips. 

He dodges your flailing limbs as he yanks you into his ferocious hold and tears your dress up the side. He tosses it to the ground leaving you bare and gasping.

“We can do this the hard way,” Lloyd wiggles his bruised nose and sniffs some fallen blood, “or we can do this the hard way. Your choice.”

You struggle pitifully as he cages your wrists and jars your body with a rough shake. Your head whips to the right unexpectedly and your cheek explodes with a bright flash of pain as Lloyd stuns your frantic movements with a pop.

You catch a glimpse of his sweaty, tousled hair and bloody features and your fight or flight instinct kicks in. You’d never seen him so feral before and it made your belly cramp with submission and insatiable arousal.

He presses a strong hand to your throat and you whimper. Your eyes fall to his heaving chest as you blubber out an apology.

“Uh uh, it’s too late for that.” He shakes his head, strands of hair fall and grazes his temple. “You don’t get to back out now. Especially not after busting up my face.” 

He shoves you to the ground by your throat. Your knees hit the gravel and the shock makes your mouth whip open in pain. Lloyd uses it to his advantage and shoves two thick fingers past your lips making drool slip from the corners of your mouth.

“Awe is my pretty baby already foaming at the mouth for my cock?” Lloyd purrs as he takes out his heavy length. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

He gives it a long tug from weeping tip to veiny bottom before smacking it against your cheek and smearing precum along your jaw. “I gotta say you put up a good chase.” he praises while slowly dry humping the side of your face. “Made me fuckin’ rock hard.”

The fingers in your mouth tip your head back and keep your lips stretched as he stands over you like a child tormenting an ant. Your body quakes under his feral stare, making your eyes brim with salty tears and skin prickle with eager anticipation. 

“I didn’t think I could get any harder but here you are on your knees, lookin’ all sad that you lost. God damn, I love seein’ those pretty eyes water.” 

The shock of it catches you off guard and you heave when he spits directly on your exposed tongue. “Gonna need all the lube you can get.” he says, thumbing the apple of your cheek. “My cock is gonna tear you up.”

His fingers crane your jaw wide and he shoves his bulging cock past your lips. You whine under the intense pressure as your tendons ache from the obscene stretch. His musky brine washes over your tongue as he drives his length in as far as it’ll go.

The fat mushroom head nudges your throat cruelly forcing you to gag sickly around him.

His fingers dig into your scalp as he fucks your face with deep plunges. Spit coats his balls in a shiny layer as they smack against your chin with each punishing shove. 

He growls ferociously low as the beast finally stakes its claim. “Gonna make sure you remember this.” His hands encompass your slippery jaw for a tender moment before he pinches your nose closed.

Your eyes bug and you urgently shove at his hips but it was like trying to move a building. He towered over you with such power and strength that it was pointless to fight.

He drives his length in deep, shoving his cock just a bit further down your windpipe, and your bloodshot eyes water profusely. Your chest heaves and your belly revolts, wanting to spew from the unwanted probing.

“You look so pretty like this. On your knees. Knowin’ your place.” He mutters, thumbing at falling tears. 

Your fingers dig anxiously into his black trousers as each frightful second ticks by. Your head feels airy and light like it might float away if he didn’t have his cock lodged in your gullet.

“Thatta girl. Get all stupid and weak for me.” He groans at your hazy features when your eyes start to roll backward. The spark in your eyes dims ever so slightly and your body sags.

He rips his cock from your mouth and slaps your cheek with a callous hand shocking you back to life. If he didn’t have a hand locked in your hair you’d have fallen from the impact. “Lookit’ you actin’ all fucked dumb and my cock hasn’t even stretched that cunt yet.”

You mewl and pitifully shove at his hands when he easily manhandles you onto all fours.

He grasps the back of your neck when you start to struggle. One large hand fits almost around the entire column as he tuts at your silly attempts at escape. “Shh shh, we’re just getting to the good part.”

Lloyd presses your face into the cool rocks making your ass stick high in the air as he crouches behind you. “God damn.” You hear him mutter as he stares unabashedly at your cunt. Your pussy clenches under his gaze and drips steadily down your thighs. 

“Fuckin’ knew it.” Lloyd chuckles and brushes a finger through your drenched, creamy slit making your hips writhe. “You love this just as much as I do. You’re one sick puppy.” A thick wad of spit hits your pussy and it makes you whine.

Lloyd watches the fluids mix before tapping his swollen, leaky crown against your tight folds. “As I said, I’m gonna tear you up.”

It was your only warning before he drives his solid length into your snug cunt. You scream from the intrusion and burn despite the ample amount of spit and arousal.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Feels like you tryin’ to rip my dick off.” He groans.

You fit like a sleeve around his cock as he pummels you into the ground. His hands envelop your hips with a bruising hold, pushing and pulling you on his dick like a little rag doll. 

A gluey ring of cream wraps around the thick girth and sticks to his curls as your pleasure mounts. 

“No, no.” He sneers and with a rough hand seizes the back of your neck halting your peak. 

He drives his cock into the hilt and stills, pressing against your ass with his Adonis belt, and coats every inch of his length in your viscid arousal. “You’re not comin’ until I fuckin’ tell you to.”

You mewl from the painful pleasure as the spongy head of his cock brutally kisses your cervix as he inches his way into your stomach. 

He’s so fucking big you could hardly breathe.

Lloyd’s body folds over yours, crushing you into the hard ground as you yelp under the weight. “Think I won’t try and bust through your cervix?” He threatens. His breath is hot against your cheek as his mustache rubs your skin raw. “I’ll fill your insides with my cum until it’s dripping out each and every one of your holes.”

You squall as your ribs grind against the unforgiving stone. He leans over you, twisting your head until you're looking at him out of the corner of your eye. Your sight is blinded for a moment as light glistens off something shiny in his hand.

The cold press of steel against your cheekbone makes you go rigid. 

“Oh, damn. That cunt just got fuckin’ tight. Almost made me shoot my load.” He grunts and forces his girth into your channel. “Can’t have that when I just brought the life of the party!”

You’re stock still as he lightly traces the knife down your back. It glides over every notch in your spine as he leans back and slowly watches his cock pump into your devastatingly soaked core. 

A warm hand spreads your ass cheeks and showcases his cream stained cock. He taps the knife gently against your puckered hole and you wail.

“Oh, don’t be a baby. You’ll enjoy this.” 

You jump when a dollop of spit lands on your ass. “Easy now. No sudden movements if I were you.”

Your breath hitches when you feel something press against your untouched hole. You shake your head in disbelief and mewl with nervous anticipation.  

Lloyd hums contentedly to himself as he pushes the handle of the blade carefully into your ass. “What a fuckin’ site.” He gloats and presses until it’s lodged to the hilt. 

He slowly thrusts his cock into your searing channel and holds the knife steady, testing the waters until he deems it safe. The ungodly stretch from the uncommon plug burns as he fucks his length deeper with every drive.

“Who knew you’d be such a slut for my knife. It’s fuckin’ you real good ain’t it?” he taunts as he begins moving the smooth handle of the blade in and out of your ass, matching the strokes that claim your cunt. 

A horrid gasp falls from your lips as a wave of pleasure suddenly knots in your belly. You clutch a handful of rocks as the cramp grows tighter and tighter. You hastily beg to come as he thrusts steadily into your silken caverns. 

He grits his teeth, feeling his own peak at the base of his spine.

“You cum on my knife like a good girl or I keep you plugged with it until tomorrow.” He sternly orders.

The threat tips you over the edge and you come with a shriek around his cock. Lloyd’s hips stutter as your cunt locks around his dick and swirls, milking the come from his balls as the handle of the knife prolongs your pleasure.

A growl rumbles deep in his chest as he fucks his load into your soaked core, filling you to the brim with every drop.  

Your body is exhausted. It’s frayed and worn from the adrenaline that slowly withers from your limbs. You go slack in his hold and barely hiss when he eases the handle of the knife from your ass. You’re numb to the elements and from the pain as copious amounts of white drip from your abused folds.

He cradles you in his arms and smooths a hand over your tired features. “I’ll make sure the guys give you some space when you go out for walks, okay?” He says, softly. 

You smile weakly and pull him down into a tender kiss. His bristly mustache tickles your upper lip and you push him away with a chuckle. 

“What do you say I draw you a warm bath and we eat dinner and dessert in bed.” he offers, while effortlessly picking you up bridal style.

“That sounds lovely.” You purr, combing your fingers through his messy, damp strands as he walks towards the exit.

“Good. Now let’s get the fuck out of here. I’ve got a serious craving for some Mint Chocolate Chip.”

WHO WANTS TO MAKE THIS MAN ANGRY?? I DOOO 🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #chris evans #the gray man

[polyamorousmood]

My partner and I have been together for over five years and had talked about being open to polyamory since the beginning. We've been actively polyamorous for almost two years now, and it's getting to the point where I will have to open up about this side of my life to my family and I don't know how to do that without causing possible issues (they can be old fashioned, but aren't like super religious). I would love to hear advise on how to handle this, or hear people's stories about how it went when they shared this with their families. Thank you!

I've never had any reason to tell my family I'm poly, and never will without good reason. But I will throw in my two cents ¢ (which inevitably turns into a dollar 💲).

In no particular order:

You set the tone😨🤹. Don't forget this. You can play it off as kidding if you set it up that way or you can make this a "I am willing to never talk to you again if you're a dick" thing if you set it up that way. You decide if its A Formal Talk or if you're just kissing someone on the cheek and they get to figure out what tf that means or if you're inviting them to celebrate with you.

You control the informationℹ️. Decide what details you'd like for them to know. You can even lie to them about some parts if it will make the conversation go down easier for them. This might sound sleazy, but depending on how much shit you expect them to dish, might be smart.

Tailor your speech to your audience🗣️. Idk your situation, but certain framings will work better for different types of people. Some can come around to the idea with education, others will use more information as more ways to hurt you; some family members may care about your happiness above all and come to accept it through that lens, some may need to understand it, some may be most open to it if they can relate it to a familiar concept, etc. Some want these comversations in private, some will only keep themselves in check from the social pressure of making a scene. You'd know better than I would what that looks like for them.

Starting with the safest/most open person could be a good way to test the waters. If they take it well, you can have someone on your side to tell the others, and if they take it poorly, you can re-evaluate how you want to handle things.

Genie can't go back in the bottle🧞. Once they know, they'll always know. The only way to maybe work around this is to make it out to be "just a phase" and make sure only one partner is ever mentioned to them again. Which means I recommend figuring out your line in the sand for how much BS you're willing to put up from them ahead of time. Its hard to consider what you would do if they took it really badly, but its hedging your bets for a familiar broken heart.

This is a personal preference, but I'm a fan of dropping details casually and when you're going to be leaving soon. Its conflict avoidant. It gives them time to chew on it without you having to be there "did they really mean that? If they did how are our grandchildren going to be raised? They were kidding. But if they weren't--" you get the idea. And they can run through all that and only bother you with the most important questions next time. It seems to me easier on others because they're not sure its true yet. They can toy with what the idea means without all the wight of My Child Is Coming Out To Me, if that makes sense? Will NOT work on everyone, but worth a consider imho.

#ask box is always open

[bird-inacage]

Love in the Air: Sky’s Denial of Prapai’s True Intentions

So for the last two episodes now, Sky and Prapai’s conversations have repeatedly revolved around Sky insistence that Prapai is only interested in sex, to Prapai’s attempts to reason there’s more to it than that.

Sky is so adamant in believing Prapai’s intentions are purely superficial because of his own history, which is colouring his judgement. This is incredibly understandable, as Sky has been massively affected by that experience and is still dealing with PTSD. Prapai also arguably poses a high risk prospect because of his own respective history as a playboy and all round flirt. If you were going to hedge your bets on boyfriend material, Prapai would not be the obvious or most secure choice. But these interactions are also a stark reminder that both Sky and Prapai’s assumptions are based on very little at all. Neither of these two people know each well enough to make any sweeping presumptions about one another.

Beyond Sky’s reasoning, there's evident denial too. It’s always easier to remain stubborn to your point of view, because to even consider the alternative is frightening - its a classic case of the unknown. You anticipate what will happen based on your own experiences, even if you understand that nothing is ever guaranteed nor set in stone. There is always the possibility that situations may play out differently to how you would expect, but can you bring yourself to find out?

So what if Prapai is serious? What if Sky admits that he wants Prapai to be serious about him? What does that mean then? There would be more at stake and far more to lose. Sky just cannot afford for that to happen again. 

As much as Prapai puts in a tremendous effort to get Sky to notice him, the irony is that he doesn’t actually need to do much convincing at all, because Sky is already interested. It’s because Sky’s already interested that he’s in constant denial. He’s not ready or comfortable accepting that fact. The more Sky spirals around these thoughts, the more he admonishes himself, because he sees himself falling prey to the same trap. Why has he seemingly learnt nothing? Why is his instinct still to be hopeful and wanting?

On the other hand, Prapai is also starting to turn a corner. His pursuit of Sky was initially driven mostly by curiosity and obsession. Seeking to solve why he had an inability to get Sky off his mind, but with no real conclusions drawn as to why that is. We now start to see the realisation creeping in for Prapai when he poses those questions to Sky “What if I’m serious?” He’s also addressing them to himself. Why does he care so much? Why does he worry? Why does he want this person to know as much about him as he wants to know about them?

Prapai even comments on how he has surprised himself with the strength of his feelings and the lengths he is willing to go to for Sky. It’s caught him off guard as equally as it has for Sky, just for completely different reasons. Whereas Prapai is somewhat perplexed or bemused by the growing revelation around his developing feelings, Sky is fearful and dubious.

I think its very natural to surprise yourself with the capacity you can possess to love someone. After all, it’s only once you do love someone, that you realise how far those depths can stretch.

It is through the act of nursing Sky that Prapai is now showing rather than telling him that he’s interested in more than sex. This act can also be seen as Prapai’s declaration to himself. ‘I do care about you beyond just the one night stand we had together’. I believe this has a considerable bearing on Prapai’s own growth and maturity. For someone who is so used to being written off as an ‘asshole’, it must be nice to prove (even to yourself) that you are genuinely capable of selflessness, and that you’re not such a bad person after all. I think there’s also something to be said about self-fulfilling prophecies. The more you are told that you are an ‘asshole’ or a bad person, the more likely you are to play into that stereotype that others have assigned for you.

At the moment the ball will be in Sky’s court. Whether Sky chooses to confront his and Prapai’s mounting feelings for each other, will take an enormous amount of courage. We obviously know they do, but it will be incredibly validating for Prapai to watch Sky slowly allow himself to reciprocate.

#LITA #love in the air #love in the air series #love in the air episode 9 #LITA analysis #LITA meta #prapaisky #god my brain's been on overdrive since yesterday's episode #it has not stopped whirring #the hands have not stopped typing

[edenwolfie]

just wondering if you could elaborate more on the times hua cheng suspected wujin was xie lian, and what his internal turmoil was like while debating this

Hi anon! Thanks for the ask, this is going under a read more because a) p big spoilers for ppl who haven’t read the fic and b) I suspect this is going to be a long answer (spoilers, it ended up being 2k words rip).

I’m basically going to just be walking you through my thoughts of the various steps in the fic where Hua Cheng is having Thoughts (and woohoo for the 21k of Hua Cheng POV I wrote for kicks and getting some thoughts in order lol), so buckle up for way more than you asked for. I hope it makes sense because I am very tired and I think I may have just rambled to myself for a solid hour rip

Initial suspicion!! Chapter 2! Literally the first scene Xie Lian sees Hua Cheng where Hua Cheng is just fucking staring at him for a little bit too long (he had been staring for a while before Xie Lian noticed it). TGCF Ch 192: “However, that black-clad youth replied, “You are. I will never forget your voice and your form.”” Hua Cheng fucking clocked this guy who was very gege shaped (he’s lucky Yanxun has been feeding Xie Lian, might have been a little harder at the start). He realises whoever this is is clearly uncomfortable with the awkward little bow and pointedly looks elsewhere, but quickly picks up Xie Lian again and keeps half an eye on him all night when he can.

Chapter 3! From there you get a couple of scenes of the light stalking because this guy’s pinged his gege radar and Xu Hao was able to tell him a few useful things from Den gossip: he’s taking years for patrons in bets, the other staff really like him as he brings them little gifts, is a cultivator with some kind of abstinence path, and he’s older than he looks, (Mental ticks in the ‘wanting to help others’, ‘kind’, ‘cultivator’, and ‘old’ columns). This section is mainly Hua Cheng seeing if he can get anything useful out of Wujin himself by catching him off guard, see if his behaviours or words don’t match what Hua Cheng remembers of Xie Lian. How old is he, what’s his name, how brave is he, how willing is he to share info, why is he taking years for these people—all the while trying not to be nice about it, because there’s no way after living in Ghost City for 2 years that Xie Lian hasn’t heard of Hua Cheng and his reputation and its too late to use San Lang because Xie Lian’s seen him, and also, if it’s not Xie Lian, he doesn’t want to be friendly to some fucking random asshole. It also seems to put Wujin on edge a little, so unsure if this is because he keeps surprising him or if this person is nervous about such pointed questions (if it’s a spy/trap, are they nervous about Hua Cheng catching them out etc). Xie Lian also moves way too fast when Hua Cheng makes a grab for his mask which, ticks in the ‘great reflexes’ or ‘cultivator’ columns, and out comes daozhang-gege, because he is fun to tease. Also, double tick in the wanting to help people column, and tick in the selfless column. Xie Lian technically also doesn’t disagree about the gege thing, so that’s a maybe on age.

Then you get the scene with the dipshit who curses Xie Lian in Hua Cheng’s presence and gets the afterlife kicked out of him. This is tricky because Xie Lian is very intentionally hedging here because he’s just pinged that Hua Cheng could know him and not be pleased about it. Hua Cheng is in two minds because Xie Lian could be cleaning because it needed doing and he’s a hard worker, or it could be that gege feels guilty to be somewhat part of the ghost’s death, OR an imposter is trying to pretend thats the case. He does seem oddly flustered after the conversation and escapes as soon as Hua Cheng’s questioning becomes pointed which could indicate either Xie Lian is nervous or the imposter is at being caught out. Also, the butterfly was with Xie Lian for much of the night before this moment and Hua Cheng was absolutely watching, so he did notice the way Xie Lian paused at the mention of his name, which annoyingly, could point to either Xie Lian or someone trying to pretend to be him.

Basically, by this point Hua Cheng has settled on this either being Xie Lian or it’s someone very intentionally trying to pretend to be him for unclear but probably nefarious purposes. His common sense is beginning to be outweighed by his desire for it to be real so where he had been flirting to put off guard and mess with him a little, it’s becoming much more genuine and his inner thoughts are very much slipping away from referring to Xie Lian as Wujin.

Chapter 4! Black Water, point in Xie Lian’s column of standing up to getting absolutely dunked in He Xuan’s aura, though once it happens Hua Cheng gets between them pretty quick cause NOPE, leave gege alone thanks you. Then Xie Lian comes in with the food, and he brings the fucking wine which IS the one that was on the table when they confronted Lang Ying and he’s like ???? Hello? Gege? Of all the wines you pick that one??? Which is a solid point in his head for it being Xie Lian because Hua Cheng doesn't think a spy would be able to connect that event to the two of them, or it could be coincidence :/ … (You may note Hua Cheng pointedly Does Not Drink The Wine because Fuck That Guy lol).

Attack on the Den! More unhelpful hints of Xie Lian/imposter; can fight well enough to protect the place but did get hurt though unclear in what circumstance. Doesn’t have much spiritual energy when checked which either means 1) possibly has a cursed shackle like Yin Yu does (or a good spy network might know they’d need to emulate one), or b) he’s being truthful about the changing paths thing and his current energy store has collapsed. He also gets an exciting look at gege’s leg which, nice.

Because of this, Hua Cheng is like, I GOTTA see this guy fight in person, preferably with me if I can swing it—and he does! Also during that convo Xie Lian brings out another interesting wine choice from somewhere he knows Xie Lian worked once because he’s followed this part of his trail and spoke with the winemaker (now a ghost, hence why so many bottles, bun bonus info), so again, could be legit, could be someone who’s done their research as well as Hua Cheng has. Seems like a stretch, but its possible, gotta be careful. Xie Lian also confesses that his path does not consume alcohol (point in gege column) and that he ‘stopped being used to fine things a long time ago’ which, another tick - but again, if someone’s done their research, :/ . Hua Cheng also gets a new lead he did not have before: Banyue. Which either means Xie Lian was there, or this imposter is setting up a trail which may or may not be legit. Either way, worth looking into to see if anything can be sussed out. Pack sunscreen Yin Yu.

Then we fight! This is where Hua Cheng starts feeling legitimately confident that it’s Xie Lian because so many of the little pieces he’s put together so far point to Xie Lian, and while all the other things could be things a spy or whatever could have learnt about Xie Lian and emulated, this skill would be really fucking hard to fake, and Hua Cheng has seen him fight before, he moves right. Also, Hua Cheng was not going easy on him and Xie Lian kept up, he was just as knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the swords as Hua Cheng remembered him being which, extra ticks. Xie Lian also gets very, very excited and rambles at Hua Cheng about a particular move and my god Hua Cheng is having little flashbacks to being alone with Xie Lian after fighting the binu just before Land of the Tender. So, all round, signs point to gege—and ding ding ding! I hid a little language clue here, as after this point, Hua Cheng never calls him daozhang-gege again and moves to just using gege.

Chapter 5! We get Qiandeng temple! Again, Hua Cheng is still fishing for information just to be sure, but here he wants Xie Lian to trust him, wants to convince Xie Lian that he’d be safe if he wanted to take the mask off. Hua Cheng thinks he gets a little something, when Xie Lian says ““I’m glad he saved you.”” which I feel reads as a more personal/emotionally charged response to the event than compared to what Yanxun might have said to hear such a thing. Then, ““I think we can give up pretences,” Hua Cheng said and anxiety clogged Xie Lian’s throat. A pause, then, “Gege is far older than he appears. Did he ever worship His Highness?”” That pause was intentional, cause he was considering just asking Xie Lian to take the mask off or just saying that he knows its him (cause he wants to, and Yin Yu’s been fucking hounding him about it and its annoying), but deicides to continue with his plan of making sure Xie Lian trusts him and wants to take the mask off on his own terms.

Chapter 6! Main clues were Xie Lian not having siblings (tick) and going into Feng Xin’s temple (frowny tick). Bonus info: This was also a little bit of a test to see if Xie Lian would run if left alone in the human realm for a time (Hua Cheng did not need to go do things, he had all the info he needed, he just changed forms and lurked about for a while), but Xie Lian does not try to escape and Hua Cheng is fucking thrilled. We also get Hua Cheng’s slip up when he nearly calls out Your Highness when Xie Lian falls into the grave, was mainly a clue to y’all that he’s feeling confident enough that he is referring to Xie Lian in his head as such, even if still some doubts. Then of course the chapter goes to hell (poor Xie Lian, I do love to whack him with a stick) and Hua Cheng doesn’t know where he went wrong and he’s fucking torn up about it. At the same time, he hears a little about Xie Lian’s childhood which sounds much like what he’d expect for a prince. Yin Yu thinks its all a ploy to gain Hua Cheng’s sympathies and Hua Cheng is Very Displeased about this suggestion. Hua Cheng doesn’t get much out of Xie Lian for a little while because Xie Lian is obviously fucking Going Through it and he doesn’t know what to do until he finally can’t resist anymore and asks and Xie Lian admits ““This is not even close to the worst thing to happen to me.”” Which oh boy, Hua Cheng knows what that's referencing and he’s so scared that something else almost as awful has happened to him—Anyway, he also learns that Xie Lian was trapped somewhere for a long time and oh man he hopes he’s wrong but he and Yin Yu hit a wall on his trail about 120+ years ago and he’s very scared he’s just learnt why with the addition of the 'worst thing' comment.

Chapter 7! By here, Hua Cheng is p goddamn certain it’s Xie Lian and isn’t really intently fishing for any information, he still does of course, as there is of course a little voice in his head being like you’re wrong you’re an idiot you’re desperate and seeing what you want to see etc. On their Zhongyuan date Ju-er tells him that Xie Lian is a god and very beautiful under the mask (and my dudes, if they had not fucked (up) in the alley, Hua Cheng had full intentions of cornering that lil guy and taking him to the temple for confirmation the next day). Then Hua Cheng’s a sneaky lil fuck and, where in canon Xie Lian is using the palm reading thing to see if Hua Cheng is a ghost, Hua Cheng here is using it to be like, I’ve carved these hands so much, I’m p sure I know how they look and oh boy they look pretty dang close that's fucking great, and they share a meal and a drink and they play street games and he just gets,,,so lost in the happy sauce, and Xie Lian says please like that, then oh fuck, we did an oopsie. We’ll get more into those thoughts in chap 9 so I won’t elaborate beyond what Hua Cheng said in chap 8 :)

Hope that was even vaguely coherent/interesting/helpful???? I’m sure I’ve forgotten shit too (there’s defo a few little heartbeat moments that Hua Cheng can hear, but they’re often not hugely helpful to him) but man I need to sleep, so goodnight all!

#edenwolfie writes #ask #anon #possible spoilers #i'm very tired you guys #godspeed at unpacking this rambling #and now #to pass tf out

[hangon-silvergirl]

“My life with you isn’t about what we didn’t do yesterday, but what we’re doing today and what we’ll get to do tomorrow.”

:sprinkling you with inspirational pixie dust:

Thank you so much, my dear! ❤️ This is... more than five additional sentences, and I rearranged your sentence a wee bit, but...!

Chrissy looks both startled and pleased, so Eddie's calling it a win, and even if, yeah, the literal dumbest question in the world just came out of his mouth. He's been thinking about it for weeks, trying to talk himself off the ledge of asking Chrissy to marry him, because she's eighteen and he's twenty; instead he just unromantically and stupidly blurted it out right here in the middle of the faculty parking lot. He and Chrissy are both still in their green graduation robes, and they're due at the Wheelers in like half an hour, for a barbeque. "Eddie," she says, and so sweetly, her eyes wide but gentle (and Eddie thinks maybe misty). "How. I. Oh, gosh! We— We haven't even gone on a real date yet..." It's not an incredulous NO off the hop, so Eddie hedges his bets.

"My life with you right now isn't about what we didn't do yesterday." He shrugs, then pulls deep from the cigarette between his fingers to try and steady his nerves. Eddie tips his head upward and exhales plumes of smoke that curl around his head, desperately hoping that he looks at least a little bit cool as he does so, and that Chrissy can't see how much his hands are trembling, or hear how fast his heart is racing. "Besides, fighting demobats in hell has got to be equal to a few years worth of dates, right?" (Chrissy giggles, and Jesus fuck does he love that sound.) "But uh, I just... I kinda wanna focus on what we're doing today, you know? And— And what we'll get to do tomorrow. I dunno, Cunningham. You're it, for me. So. What's the point in waiting?" Chrissy goes a little slack-jawed and starry-eyed as she listens to him, and tears start tracking streaks through the rosy make-up on her cheekbones. The way she's looking at him makes Eddie feel like he's reciting poetry instead of rambling nonsense at her in an attempt to rationalize his insane proposition. "Okay," she breathes. Eddie hopes to God he hasn't misheard her. "Okay?" he confirms, voice cracking. Chrissy launches herself at him in response, throwing her arms around his neck, burying a squeaky chorus of undoubtedly happy little yes!es into his collarbone. Eddie's smoke hits the asphalt as his gathers her up enthusiastically, pulling her tight to his body and laughing, a massive grin spreading across his face. Chrissy Cunningham is going to marry him. '86 really is his year.

Send Me a Sentence & I'll Write You 5 More!

#hellcheer #hellcheer fanfic #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #writing prompts #my stories #kats-meow-fic #ask alie

[princessmisery666]

Lucky - Part 5.9 Under The Radar Mini Series (end)

Summary: It’s Maverick’s retirement and the gangs all back together, and it makes Jake realize just how lucky he is to have you. 

Warnings: fluff, pure fluff. 

W/C: 1.4k

Characters: Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, fem!reader (You. Call sign: Huntress). Mentioned/Small Parts: Lieutenant Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Penny Benjamin, Lieutenant Javy "Coyote" Machado, Captain Phil “Maverick” Mitchell, Lieutenant Robert "Bob" Floyd, Lieutenant Reuben "Payback" Fitch, Lieutenant Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia.

Pairing: Hangman x Fem!Reader, (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

A/N: You can thank @justagirlinafandomworld for this whole part, I knew how I wanted it to end but couldn’t figure out the logistics of it, then Yvette reblogged this with the awesome tags and it got the muses flowing. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made by me // @writercole made the dividers. Pic credit

Series Master Lists: Parts 1 -5 // Drabbles & one-shots

Special shoutout: This is the end, so one last time a massive thank you to @sfreeborn for giving the initial prompt that was the first spark to ignite this inferno, @writercole this would not have been possible without you, @deanwinchesterswitch for being a wonderful beta and fitting me into your busy schedule 😍 without further ado…

Lucky

Jake went home for a few days to see his parents. Since he’s been back, he’s been acting strange - a little jumpy, on edge, like he’s waiting for something to happen. His father didn’t outright disapprove of his decision to stick around Top Gun because of you, but he didn’t show any support either. You assume the strange behavior is residual stress from spending time with his father. You thought he would shake it off in a couple of days.

Only he’s been back for almost a week and has been overly attached to his leather aviator jacket. It’s Jake’s lucky jacket. You know it is; he’s told you the stories. It holds sentimental value and, bonus points, he looks smoking hot in it. His words, not yours, though you readily agree. But he’s worn it everywhere, doesn’t take it off unless you're at home, it’s as if it’s a life jacket, and he expects removing it will suddenly make him drown.

You’ve watched him tuck it away in the closet each night for the past four days, patting it down as if checking for something or he’s suddenly developed an OCD tick. It’s no surprise that he wears it to the Hard Deck to celebrate Maverick’s retirement.

And yes, he looks obscenely hot in it, with a simple gray henley underneath, but he also looks extremely hot in the crowded bar. You had already suggested he take it off, and though Penny is taking the night off, she offered to put it in the back, so no one steals or spills anything on it. 

“It’s fine,” he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he looks nervous. “I’m fine,” he assures you when you give him a pointed look. He places a kiss in your hair and insists he’s good, pulling you closer to him to allow some other patrons to pass.

The Hard Deck gets a little too crowded, so the party moves outside onto the beach as the sun sets. Which Hangman is thankful for because he swears he’s about to burst into flames from overheating. The breeze off the ocean cools him down to a comfortable level again. 

Rooster and Fanboy are being idiots, starting a wrestling match, and it’s only a matter of minutes before one of them takes it too far. You, Jake, Phoenix, Bob, Coyote, Maverick, Penny, Hondu, and Payback create a semi-circle to block them from falling into the fire pit and encourage them, hedging bets as to who will end up on their ass first.

Jake remains quiet. He just watches, sipping his beer, not rooting for either of them. His mind is too occupied, and whereas watching either Rooster or Fanboy get a faceful of sand would have entertained him before, he’s got too much going on to fully enjoy it.

He sees you check your watch and give him a concerned half-smile. “You okay?” you ask quietly. 

“Perfect,” he says, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you under his shoulder. It’s only partly a lie, he’s nervous and stressed, but he can’t tell you that without making you question him further.

As the wrestling steps up a notch, you straighten up and yell with a gleeful smile, “Get him, Fanboy, get him!” 

Fanboy makes a grab for Rooster’s leg, who hops back out of reach but loses his balance, twisting to catch himself on your shoulders, knocking your glass of red wine all over your white shirt.

The shock makes you gasp, and as the liquid soaks in, Rooster remains pressed against you, too worried to step back to assess the damage.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, clearly trying to suppress his laughter.

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head, “you’re so paying for the dry cleaning.”

Rooster slowly peels himself away from you, and his yellow Hawaiian print shirt has a small patch of red, whereas your shirt is now pink. You pull the wet garment away from your skin. 

“Jake, baby, give me your shirt,” you coo, batting your eyelashes at him.

He moves on autopilot, handing his beer to Coyote, slipping off his jacket, and trapping it between his knees to save it from the sand. He slips the jacket back over his shoulders, handing you his shirt, and he doesn’t fully process what you’ve asked him to do until he watches you whip off your shirt and replace it with his Henley. 

You toss your ruined shirt at Rooster. “Dry cleaned,” you demand, “before you leave.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rooster salutes.

“How come all she has to do is ask, and she gets whatever she wants?” Payback teases.

Jake’s too busy staring at you in his Henley to realize the question is meant for him till Payback barks his name.

“What’re you talking about?” Jake retorts, reluctantly pulling his gaze from you to look at the other pilot over the top of the fire.

“Dude, for the last few days we’ve all been here, it’s been ‘Jake get me a beer’ and ‘Jake give me your shirt’, and you haven’t batted an eye,” Fanboy adds, the rest of the team muttering in agreement.

“It’s not just the last few days,” Coyote adds, laughing. “It’s months, man. He bought her a house, lets her drive his car, and didn’t even raise his voice when she scuffed his alloys.” 

“Shut up,” you chuckle, pointing a finger at Coyote. He’s already teased Jake about this particular subject to no end.

“Awww, and now you’re standing up for him,” Coyote jests with a smirk, “damn, he’s pussy whipped if he needs you to fight his battles.”

“He doesn’t need me to do anything,” you counter. 

The old Hangman’s cockiness comes into play, and he smirks, “I can’t help it if I know how to keep my woman happy.” 

Fanboy, Rooster, and Payback fake cough, “pussy whipped!” 

“At least he’s got someone,” Bob snaps, “I don’t see anyone lining up to ride you three.”

The team is in shock for seconds before the chorus of contagious laughter starts filling the air with a litany of voices.

The laughter continues while the teasing switches to Bob and Jake watches you - bathed in the light of the bonfire, your head tipped back, eyes crinkled at the corners sparkling with genuine laughter, wearing his shirt. You’ve never looked so beautiful. It’s enchanting, and not for the first time, he wonders how he got so lucky. 

You must feel his eyes on you because you turn to face him, and just as your expression softens, he finds the words he’s been struggling with for days.

“Marry me,” he blurts out, perhaps a little too loud to make sure you can hear him over Bob’s ribbing.

Everyone freezes and the laughter cuts off. Your mouth hangs open slightly, and he can see your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

He quickly digs in his jacket pocket, pulling out a simple, elegant diamond ring and dropping to one knee in the sand. “Marry me?” he repeats as a question this time. Your shocked silence prevails, and he rambles, “I didn’t go home last week; I went to your parents to ask your dad for permission. I’ve been wearing this jacket for days now, my grandfather wore it to propose to my grandmother, and my dad wore it to ask my mom, and I’ve just been waiting for the right moment, but I swear I’m close to dying from heat exhaustion and I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Jake,” you sigh, but emotion catches in your throat, tears pool in your eyes, and you're speechless again.

He’s not sure if they are tears of joy, pure shock, or pity, but regardless he’s not done talking. “You're it for me, Y/N. I’ve known it from the moment you broke my nose on this very beach. I love you, Y/N Y/L/N, and I want to start our future together. But I can wait if you're not ready, I will wait. So if it's a no, I’m fine with that, but I'm really hoping it's a yes. Will you marry me?”

He holds his breath, feeling every set of eyes on him, and for once, it’s attention he doesn’t want. The edges of his vision seem to blackout, and all he sees is you, firelight dancing on your cheek, making your tear tracks glow.

Quicker than he can blink, you launch yourself at him. He doesn’t expect it, so when you crash into him, he ends up flat on his back, with you lying on top of him, kissing him, hard and passionately.

“Is that a yes?” Bob whispers to Phoenix.

But it’s Rooster who happily replies, “I'm pretty sure that's a hell yes.”

I'm so sad to say goodbye to these guys 🥺😭 but I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for the support.

There is a flangsty Rooster fic in the making 😍😍😍

Master Lists: Main // Under The Radar - Parts 1 -5 // Drabbles & one-shots

#top gun maverick #jake seresin #hangman #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #fluff #so much fluff #TGM #rooster #phoenix #bob #coyote #fanboy #payback #maverick #penny benjamin

[sassyfrassboss]

I think she spent a ton on PR. Millions most likely. I also would be willing to bet she spent millions on decorating that house. Their security also has to be pricey because it seems like they hire a ton of guards when they go out for events.

Glad to see you back, for however long we have you. sorry to hijack your inbox..

To your point Sassy, I would like to add/point out something... The luxury lifestyle (faux Royal) Lifestyle MM is trying to emulate is expensive as we have all said before. There is a reason celebrities don't spend the way MM does. And those that do, have money coming in by the tens of millions every year guaranteed, be it real estate, Investments, Own businesses, and stuff like that, the likes of Beyonce, Taylor swift, Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Johnny Depp, Kim K and the rest. They can afford the 24hr high tech security because they can rely on their other incomes to generate revenue (Whilst they sleep they are still earning money) i.e Beyonce (doubt this will happen), she can balance it out by doing a concert in Dubai, for 23 million dollars. (there is a reason they were able to buy the most expensive home in California worth 200 million) or release and album and do a tour like other artists. People like Depp can do it because for their own health (drug/alcohol addiction) and they also amassed wealth to the point it wouldn't hurt them one bit to have said security. Lets not talk about Kim K.

There is a reason actors and A listers don't so security, except for specific events, its expensive, attracts attention, and literally screams look at me.

Buying a 14million dollar home, with a mortgage, property taxes, 24hr security, Household staff, Archewell staff, Private Jets, PR management, Lawyers retainer and fees for all the lawsuits they come up with. exclusive packages, Clothes, Interior design of the olive garden... All of this with no guarantee of returns. (because MM is lazy). I wonder which financial/Wealth manager advised them because... I would have fired them immediately. No wealth manager worth their salt would let their client hedge their bets on the spotify, random house and Netflix contracts that have yet to be fulfilled. They would tell you, let the money come in the bank accounts and then make those purchase... especially during the start of Covid.

As much as i don't like Todger at least he is working for his supper. Heart of Invictus, The South Africa doc (should he get someone good to direct it, it could be good), The Spare, and the interviews/promotion of the book i.e Gabor Mate, Job at Better Up.

Madam got 80M and thought that will be enough? What exactly has she done for that money? The bench? Archetypes?, 40 X40?,Pearl? all flops... her Ideas are not generating income of any kind.

The doc was both of them so credit goes to both.

Great points!

Thanks! I will try and stick around for a few days this time. I do lurk on here but tend to come back for the juicy stuff.

They are living a champagne lifestyle on a basic beer budget.

[mayybirds]

TtVtL Chapter 8 Snippet~

I was hoping to have the new chap out this weekend, but it didn't quite get together in time. We're looking at sometime late next week for the update. So for now, here's a lil preview to whet your appetites:

Eventually, once the pins and needles in his legs have come and gone, and with some reluctant help from Eveline, who grumbles the whole time about it, Ethan manages to finagle himself, with minimal flopping, into a sitting position, and then gets to his feet once more, this time successfully. He stretches out his aching limbs, and then pulls the rough-hewn wood table that is the centerpiece of the cabin into the patch of filtered light cast by the window, places the chairs at either end for himself and Eveline.

Sunlight, Ethan decides, is a glorious thing he is never going to take for granted again. Not after yesterday’s long night, where he’d feared to never see the sun again, to die in darkness and decay. 

Eveline sits in hers carefully, regarding him unsurely as Ethan flops in his and rubs a weary hand over his face. He feels remarkably well-rested, all things considered, but the aches and pains in his body are definitely not minor. What he probably needs is food, and water, and yet more sleep, in all honesty, but while he’s certainly going to prioritize the first two, he’s not hedging his bets on getting more of the third. It’s already lucky the BSAA and Umbrella haven’t found them yet. 

When he pulls his hand away from his face, Eveline is still staring silently at him, and Ethan realizes he has no idea how to even start this conversation—what needs to be said now to get them situated and out of here without her freaking out on him, and what must come later—and flounders. “Uh…” Great start, asshole, he thinks sourly. “Sorry you couldn’t wake me up earlier. I’m…not usually such a heavy sleeper. Next time just kick me awake, or something.” The second it’s out of his mouth, his long history of reacting violently to being awoken forcefully occurs to him, and Ethan winces. “Actually, wait, don’t do that.”

Eveline just keeps staring, and he coughs awkwardly. 

“How long were you waiting for me to wake up?”

Eveline finally breaks eye contact to look at her hands, fidgeting with them in her lap. “Don’t know. A while.”

“Shit,” Ethan mumbles. With the cursed ambiguities of kid-speak, that could mean anything from thirty minutes to hours. “Sorry. You must have been…” Don’t say scared. “Hungry?” It comes out sounding more like a question than anything else, timid and unsure. He tries again. “I mean…it’s probably been a while since you ate, right?” Hell, the last meal they’d both been present for had been Marguerite’s god-awful rotting carcass of a dinner, and he severely doubts Eveline ate any more than he did. Though, in retrospect, maybe the rotten food was good for people who were infected? Mold grew on rotten things, right? Fuck, he’d never been that good at the biological sciences. He was a computer guy for a reason. 

Eveline is looking at him again, though, half-wary but seemingly half-intrigued by the concept of food, so he plows on. “I know I’m hungry, at least. Starved,” and he manages a half-hearted laugh that quickly trails off. “What about you?”

“I ate,” Eveline mumbles, not really answering the question, and points a finger out behind his shoulder. When Ethan glances over, he notices for the first time a couple empty cans on the bench next to the sink that look like they’ve been practically licked clean, as well as several empty test-tubes scattered about with the remnants of black sludge clinging to their glass sides, and winces—both at the clear picture being painted of Eveline having to feed herself what was in all likelihood cold beans while he took a fucking nap, as well as at the…other stuff.

He’s not going to ask Eveline if she ate mold samples. He’s not. If only for his own sanity. 

“Okay,” he says after a long moment, “But…are you hungry?”

Eveline shrugs, and he takes that as a yes. 

#for those who are curious this takes place in like the first 1/3 of the chapter but is NOT the opening scene #Ethan and his cringefail struggles to bond with his new kid and also figure out how to feed her: the chapter #Through the Valley to Life

[rainbow-sheeps]

hi ^^ im in need of some advice

so, my relationship w/ God is non existent. i dont talk to Him, acknowledge or think of until its night (then i get nervous about death for me and my family and then i pray) and i dont want to do this anymore. i used to be close to Him but then i just stopped being (i stopped bible reading as i didnt know how to read the bible in a way that was helping and not hurting my mental health) and i just dont know how to have a relationship w/ God honestly. what does a relationship w/ someone who is invisible even look like? im really confused and i just want to be close to Him again but i dont even know where to start :( any help is appreciated <3

Hi, Admin Kili here with some words of encouragement from their older sister, Elf, who is a queer affirming seminary student.

"Faith is a lot more than just trusting feelings that there is someone there. I know for sure, even being in Seminary there are days where I feel far from God. It is hard. Faith is the assurance that we have that we will be raised again on the last day when Jesus comes again, and in the meantime it can feel lonely and hard to understand or feel like we can see him. The good news is, when Jesus returned to the Father he left us the Holy Spirit as a sign that we have been brought into God's family- the family from which all others get their names. Doubt is normal. Thomas, one of Jesus's disciples doubted that Jesus had been resurrected. John, Jesus's earthly cousin, even sent his disciples to ask Jesus if he was the Messiah or if they should wait for someone else. My professors remind us that theology is faith seeking understanding. It is hard to put our faith in someone we can't see" It's hard to trust what you can't see, even professors of theology say that themselves. You're valid in your doubt and your worries. What's more, you're still loved even on days where you feel your faith in God is waning, or even non-existent. You're a much loved child of the king.

Elf had one more thing to say before she left the call where I asked her for help on how to answer.

"Studying the word doesn't always come easy to me, but it's been made easier by being taught how to read the Bible like it was written, as God's overarching story of creation-fall-redemption-restoration. It also helps to be surrounded by a faith community, if you can find one. If not, then you still have the Triune God with you. Before the creation of the world God existed eternally in a loving relationship of the Father loving the Son, the Son loving the Father, and the Spirit binding them together. When we become Christians we are brought into that relationship.  You are not alone in this. Doubting is not a great unforgivable sin. It is normal when we are faced with the cosmic. One of my good friends here at my seminary said to me that God loves to answer prayers where we show dependence on him- and asking God to show himself to us is a prayer he loves to answer."

Her closing words are thus.

"My faith grows stronger through times of testing. We live in a self sufficient society so it can be hard to set aside my desire to pull myself up from my doubts and be the perfect Christian. But I've come to see that my relationship with God is not about me, but about him. He reached down from eternity to pull me out of this corrupted world and bring me into his kingdom. No amount of feelings can replace what faith really is- choosing which narrative to live in without hedging your bets (this is a quote from a commentary I read). Even C.S Lewis said there were days when he felt doubt. When I have those days I remember that I am placing my bets on the God I have seen in the Bible, who has spent the whole of history to this point trying to redeem his creation back to him."

We love you, and we're praying for you. If you aren't already on Sheep, we would love to have you. Have a wonderful day, and we love you.

#Queer Christianity #Queer Christian #Queer theology #Lgbt Christian #Lgbt faith #Queer faith #Lily-bugged #Kili tag #kili answers some asks

[fideidefenswhore]

Why did any nobles support KofA in the annulment? I can get priests, bishops siding with her if thinking her case was right, but what do courtiers get out of it? If it's loyalty, shouldn't loyalty to Henry come first as king? And his argument was he needs a son to stop civil war, so what's theirs? "Accept you had no son, we'll just see what happens next and hope there's no problems"? A lot of these people were Yorks, which is sus, so I'm starting to think, were they actually planning something, waiting for a chance? By supporting her, are they trying to say to Henry "Look, we support your daughter! We swear we won't do anything when you're dead!" and maybe meaning it, maybe not?

Well, this was complex, and there were different turning points for different people. As I've mentioned before, initially, Reginald Pole and Thomas More, for example (and there are probably more examples, more people that felt this way, but these are the figures of most significance), at least 'cosmetically' (I mean...Reginald Pole actually travelled to argue Henry's side, so...I think his apologists lean into 'cosmetically' pretty far, but that's just an aside) supported HVIII in the Great Matter. However, once it became clear that the matter of succession was to became inextricably linked to the separation from papal primacy, they withdrew their support.

I think also, there was a pretty strong court faction supporting the Boleyns up through Blackfriars, because many believed it was a foregone conclusion in HVIII's favour. After all, Campeggio did travel with the document attesting to his authority to annul after the trial, and he showed this to Wolsey and HVIII. Once it ended in stalemate, however...well, the future suddenly looked more uncertain and less stable. Many defected, hedging their bets that this would maybe end in COA's after all (and, ultimately it did, but by the point it did so it was rather a hollow victory).

Speaking of that 'hollow victory', 1529-1534 was such a nebulous time for COA, Princess Mary, and their partie(s), because the Pope did not declare either for or against the marriage until, what was it, March 1534? And had this been declared before all the Parliamentary Acts separating England from papal power it might have had more effect, but as it was, by the point it was finally declared, the decision had no legal authority in England, regardless (but was 'moral' or 'religious' authority to many).

And then, even those that might've believed the marriage to COA had been legitimately annulled by the Church of England, still believed Princess Mary was bona fides, since this was generally the principle applied to such cases elsewhere in Europe. So, we have Princess Mary, considered the heir to the throne of England by much of Catholic Europe, considered bona fides even by many of those not strictly belonging to that group...but it's treasonous at worst, and risky at best, to assert the latter, and yeah, not politic to remind Henry of the former.

Where does that lead us? Well, the awkward part of Chapuys' legacy as Mary's champion is that he sends dispatches to Charles V swearing up and down that many English subjects don't even consider HVIII to be strictly legitimate, arguing himself to this effect; he pulls out the rumored Eleanor Talbot marriage used to delegitimize the children of EW & EIV in the reign of Richard III as if it is some sort of trump card. Of course, again, the awkward continuity of this line of reasoning is that if there are significant problems to the legitimacy of HVIII, then by extension, there are for Princess Mary's as well. And here comes the solution, as it were: Reginald Pole, as the 'legitimate Plantagenet heir', can wed Princess Mary, and they can overthrow HVIII. Chapuys swears that COA is onboard with the former part of this plan, swears that many of her party and Mary's are, as well, and remains silent about whether or not COA is onboard with the latter part.

Does this sound too early, too much like the Exeter Conspiracy? Well, this conspiracy is part of the accusations of 1538- for many that were of Princess Mary's faction, but it's actually bruited by Chapuys incredibly early, like either 1533 or 1534, if memory serves.

(I think there was a rumor that the plan was also to wed Mary to the Courtenay heir at one time also, which is rather ironic considering what happens with all that much later...)

By 1536, COA dies, so there's sort of a correlating lateral move with this faction... AB is still not recognised as Queen by the Pope, by the majority of Catholic Europe (Chapuys speaks of members of this faction, including Princess Mary herself, being 'jealous' of the reverence he made to AB in April 1536, I think this was more like a [quite reasonable] fear, tbh, as by acknowleding her, Charles V was, too), by some English subjects, as well. Henry still needs an heir, but nothing would, or should stop him from marrying another woman, and reinstating Mary into the succession...and how could this be advantageous for them? Again, we have to remember that a woman ruling England alone is, at this point, unprecedented. There's a much more secure future, in their minds, of Mary wed to either one of the Plantagent line, or some Catholic prince, and inheriting the throne married once Henry dies. I'm not entirely sure this faction originally intended Jane Seymour to be Queen (obviously, the Seymours would have had more of a vested interest in this eventuating); more likely is that at the outset, they planned to use Henry's affection for her to secure what they wanted. Actually, most of the risk was on her, according to Chapuys' reports: it was Jane that they asked to speak the controversial 'truth' ('how detested the marriage was by all the people'), and only then that 'well-placed' nobles of this faction would swear to the same.

However, as soon as their real controversial 'truth' emerges (Mary is bona fides, Mary should be reinstated into the succession) by the woman they've chosen as its figurehead, it's viciously shot down by HVIII, and many of them find themselves under suspicion and interrogation, dismissed from the Privy Council, some even arrested, although shortly thereafter released. You can read these interrogations yourself in the state papers, and chart the trajectory of all of Mary's party fleeing the ship they've built and throwing their fellow conspirators under its hull. Some will survive (like Francis Bryan) by continuing to do so at the expense of their former allies, but many are going to find themselves arrested and executed in connection with the former conspiracy in two years' time.

#anon #this in and of itself could be its own miniseries #altho the rights to the king's curse have already been used and networks seem loath to adapt tudor dramas without source material lately. #i will post some relevant quotes on this subject if you're interested; anon...spoons withstanding....

[bagheerita]

DS9's "Second Skin" once again shaming the Stargate Atlantis writing team by doing an episode they wrote but over 10 years earlier and 50 times better. I went on a rant about "Sunday" vs "Lessons" a couple years ago, but watching "Second Skin" is like seeing what "Michael" could have been if written by people who understood drama instead of only being acted by people who did. There are definitely differences, like we start out having a relationship with Kira which we don't with Lt Kenmore, but with the whole fake identity plot having the person's actual parent there makes it sooooooo much more emotional. (This is what I wanted from "Michael"!! Not just handing him a stock photo that literally looks like it came with the frame and telling him "These are your parents." But an actual emotional connection, any tie for him to cling to to believe your bullshit and not just Teyla being quietly agreeable like whoring her out is the only way you can sell your lies. Because, here in DS9 as well, the lies are so obviously bullshit.) But making it a double blind also, where you lied to the parent as well to make sure you manipulated that honest emotional connection into existing, fantastic, exquisite, Stargate wishes. And in the end the point of the episode is different, as Lt Kenmore is the focus of his episode and Kira is really just the excuse to expose the Legate by having him try to protect his "daughter," but (and as much as I love "Michael") the emotional content here is so much deeper and sweeter. Maybe SGA writers are allergic to honest emotions, or maybe the writers were trying to hedge their bets with not portraying their main cast as being as evil as the Obsidian Order... though if you're going to go with the war crimes go whole hog with the war crimes come on.

#mini rant #ds9 s3 second skin #not to say that star trek doesn't also have a whole HISTORY of issues with non-consensual body modification and their female characters #looking at you tng. Kira wakes up as a cardassian and I was literally like wait I already saw this but with troi and romulans #lmao it's okay SGA you trash show i rag on you but i still love you #can you imagine if Michael Kenmore was an actual soldier who died on the mission but he had a mother or a brother who was also military and #they get read into the stargate program and come to atlantis and get told 'hey here is your loved one. a building fell on him so he has #no memory and also looks different.' And Michael actually had an honest connection with someone and honest affection #AND THEN when it all comes out that he's a wraith with this violent nature (or whatever i think that's bullshit and his anger was about #the lies) he and this relative have to go through this whole heartbreaking realization that they thought they loved each other but #they're on opposite sides of this conflict and are going to probably kill each other. like it doesn't even have to end any differently #just give me deeper drama

[bookwormscififan]

The Amethyst Files, Part 4

Read on AO3!

Previous part

A/N: Take some spice with a grain of salt, because this vampire AU crossover isn't wholly sweet, nor is it wholly spicy.

Warnings: light smut and blood drinking.

--

Jackie let Phantom inside, locking the door behind him and tugging on his hoodie sleeve as he turned to face Phantom.

“Thank you,” he began softly, staring at the ground as he moved closer to the bed. “Thank you for staying. I haven’t… I haven’t had someone stay in a while. I just want you to know… I’m grateful.”

“I wanted to stay,” Phantom said, making Jackie look up to see him pinching the skin between his thumb and index finger. “I didn’t stay because my brother was there, I stayed because you asked me to. You asked me to stay, and there was no way I was going to leave you there on your own.”

Jackie was in front of him before he finished his sentence, hands on his knees as he moved closer, eyes darting to Phantom’s lips before meeting his gaze again, asking a silent question and waiting for an answer.

Phantom swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, hands moving up Jackie’s arms to grip his biceps, and he licked his lips briefly before giving a slight nod. His breath hitched when Jackie kissed him, soft and careful, lips molding to his own as he gently pushed further.

Closing his eyes as he breathed in through his nose, Phantom returned Jackie’s kiss, holding his arms tighter and leaning back, pulling Jackie onto the bed above him. When Jackie pulled back, panting slightly, Phantom gave him a more confident nod, sliding one hand up to cup his jaw, brushing his thumb across his cheek.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Jackie said quietly before diving down, tracing the line of Phantom’s collarbones with his lips before hesitantly pressing his teeth against his pulse point, hands snapping to Phantom’s hips to hold them down.

A short spike of fear crawled up Phantom’s spine when Jackie pressed his fangs against him, but he pushed it away and held Jackie tighter, trying to buck his hips against the vampire and letting out a soft groan when Jackie held him down. His complaint caught in his throat as Jackie slowly bit down, pausing before starting to suck, and Phantom’s eyes rolled back at the feeling of Jackie drinking his blood.

The feeling was almost intoxicating, making Phantom lightheaded and sweeping him up in pleasure as Jackie finally pressed his hips down, giving Phantom some much-needed friction and making him dig his nails into Jackie’s back.

Jackie could taste the moment Phantom’s high hit, his blood spiking into a richer, warmer flavour, and he ground against him a couple more times before stilling, pulling his fangs out to lick over the mark he’d left on Phantom’s neck, then resting his head on his shoulder and catching his breath.

Phantom panted a few times, squirming as the wetness of his jeans grew uncomfortable, and he moved a hand up to thread through Jackie’s hair, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes before his hand stilled. He’d let a vampire drink from him. Was this how Mare had felt?

----

Mad had barely gotten Mare into the cabin before he was practically tossed onto the bed, smiling as Mare crawled on top of him.

“Hi,” Mare said with a smile, voice rough in that way that did things to Mad and made his fangs ache.

“Hi,” Mad replied, holding Mare against him and rolling over so he was on top, tracing patterns into his chest. “Evidently I’ve done something good, or you wouldn’t have gotten me here. I just don’t know what I could have done,” he joked, laughing when Mare grabbed his sides.

“There isn’t another clearing in these woods, and you know it,” Mare’s voice was low, lifting his head to nose over Mad’s claim mark and smirking at the full body shiver it granted him. “You’d have to make a clearing for them if they want to live here, and you were hedging your bets on them staying in the town.”

“Not true, actually,” Mad answered, leaning down to press his lips against Mare’s shoulder, nosing away his shirt to get to the skin. “There is another clearing. It is north of this cabin, and it does have a creek. It just doesn’t have a view of the moon, and you can’t get to it without crossing through our clearing first.”

“How do you know about it?” Mare asked, tone serious as he held Mad closer to him, having shrugged off his shirt while Mad was talking. He kept the skin-on-skin contact, pressing his nose against Mad’s claim mark as his hand moved to find Mad’s, tracing his fingers along the gold band on his finger. Mad lifted his head slightly, looking at Mare with wide eyes.

“The vampires I killed who’d stolen my blood,” he began quietly, lowering his gaze to trace more patterns into Mare’s chest. “They had a map of my woods in the cabinet with the vial. They’d marked a clearing that would give them prime access to the cabin so they can collect more of my blood whenever they needed it.”

“Do you know if—”

“As far as I could tell from the map, they hadn’t started developing the land there yet,” Mad interrupted, resting his head on Mare’s chest and listening to his steady breathing. “They would have had to get through my place first, and I think they’d planned to get me out before they started.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mare voice was soft, bordering on tearful, and his hand was warm against Mad’s back.

“Because you were so happy to see me back home alive,” Mad replied, barely louder than a whisper. “And I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.”

-----------

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

#writing #fanfiction #jacksepticeye fanfiction #nwtb fanfiction #madmare #phantomhero #vampire au #booky's spice shelf #blood drinking tw

[hellhound-whisperer]

A Mark All Your Own: First Born

Pairing | Dean Winchester x female!reader

Warnings | Mark of Cain, spn-level violence mentioned, angst

Word count | 1.9k

Prompt | this

A/N | I got an idea from that gifset, and then when I started writing, all this came out, and I wrote more than I have in a WHILE. I got super jazzed about this idea, and am going to keep writing oneshots & such within this little universe I created. Hope someone out there digs this too, or I’ll just crawl back into my dumpster fire of a brain.

Summary | To protect Dean, you take on the Mark of Cain, much to Dean’s dismay.

You followed Dean into the war room, both of you quiet after the events of the last couple days. You were still trying to come to terms with it yourself - the Mark of Cain was now seared into your forearm. You weren’t sure where Sam was at that moment, or what he would think when he found out, but Dean? You know exactly how Dean felt, silently seething the entire drive home. You knew he was trying to calm down lest he really lose it, but you honestly weren’t quite ready for this conversation yet.

You followed him to your shared room, stopping in the doorway as he sat heavily on the bed, letting his head fall into his hands.

“I’m going to take a shower, and then you can let me have it,” you whispered. He raised his head, holding his hands as if in prayer, resting his chin on his thumbs, staring straight ahead. You figured you would be getting much more of a response, and left for the privacy of the shower.

Turning the knob to start running the hottest water you could handle, you stripped, consciously avoiding looking at the Mark as you stepped into the spray. You tried to concentrate on the droplets raining down on you, but it couldn’t erase the memory from your mind, starting with the disbelief on Dean’s face when he saw you finally stepped out from your hiding spot on the other side of the wall.

“Y/N? What are you…?”

“Crowley,” you interrupted.

“Y/N, I was wondering when you’d turn up. Heard you two never travel alone,” Cain pointed between you and Dean. “You know Dean, after seeing you here earlier, I thought it would be you. But now that she’s come along…” Cain’s dark gaze settling on you. You did your best to remain unfazed, but you could feel Dean’s glare like it was a slap to the face.

“She wasn’t supposed to be here, that wasn’t part of the plan,” Dean growled at Crowley, who only shrugged.

“Had to hedge my bets,” Crowley replied. “Figured you two were the best candidates, and I’d let the big man decide.”

“And decided I have,” Cain answered, coming to you and resting a hand on your shoulder. You stifled a shudder, reminding yourself that you were doing this for Dean. He’d done enough for this shitty world, he shouldn’t have to do this too. You heard one of the doors from the other side of the house open and close quickly, but you knew at least a couple demons snuck through. Dean and you started heading that way, but Cain held you back, whispering in your ear.

“I can give you the Mark, Y/N, if it’s what you truly want. The Mark can be transferred to someone who’s worthy.” He moved to stand in front of you, in between you and Dean, who was preoccupied with the demons Cain undoubtedly let in.

“You mean a killer, like you.”

The corner of his lips twitched. “Yes.”

“Can I use it to kill that bitch?” You snarled, thinking of Abaddon.

“Yes. But you have to know with the Mark comes a great burden. Some would call it a great cost.”

“Spare me the warning label, you had me at kill the bitch.”

“Good luck, Y/N. You’re going to need it.”

Cain grasped your forearm just as Dean returned. You heard him shout in the background, but you couldn’t make it out as you fought against the pain, managing to keep the scream contained in your head. Your arm felt like it was on fire, and then all at once, the feeling disappeared. You looked down, seeing the Mark red and angry against your skin, unable to ignore the rush of power that seemed to come with it.

“And the blade?”

“Nothing can destroy the blade, so I threw it to the bottom of the deepest ocean.” You rolled your eyes, turning from Cain to face Dean. His jaw twitched, worry and fury fighting for dominance in his gaze. Cain continued, stepping between Dean and Crowley.

“You find the blade, kill Abaddon, but you make me a promise first.” You eyed him, wondering what in the hell he would want from you, when Dean and Crowley disappeared. “When I call you, and I will call, you come and find me, and use the blade on me.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion. “Why?”

“For what I’m about to do.” Cain reached forward, and suddenly you were outside standing beside Dean. He looked down to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the Impala, Crowley following behind.

Knowing you couldn’t put off the impending shouting match much longer, you finished your shower, got dressed, and walked back to your room to find it empty. You sighed, trying to decide if Dean wanted you to join him in the library, where he was likely downing whiskey. Your bed seemed more inviting though, so you climbed in, waiting for him to join you when you fell asleep.

Instinctively, you stretched your arm to Dean’s side of the bed to find it cold and empty. Sighing, you crawled out of bed and wandered to the library. You’d probably only dozed off for an hour or so, but you still had no idea what you were walking into as you turned the corner.

Your boyfriend was sitting in his armchair, glass of amber liquid in his hand as expected, the decanter on the table half gone beside him. You stopped at the entrance, unsure of what to say. Based on Dean’s blank expression, you were pretty sure he wasn’t sure of how to start either, so you took a deep breath and spoke.

“You’re probably right to be mad, and I’m sorry for that. Crowley told me where you were, what you were going to take on, and I just…”

“You just what, Y/N?” Dean’s voice was dangerously low, but at least he didn’t seem to be completely lost in his bottle.

“You’ve done enough, Dean. If Cain was willing to give it to me, I thought this was one thing I could do to protect you for once.” Dean simply nodded and took a long sip. You were surprised at his next words.

“What did Cain say after he zapped Crowley and I out of there?”

You sighed heavily, knowing he’d want to know sooner or later. “That one day he would call, and I would have to kill him with the blade.” Now that got Dean’s full attention.

“What? He wants you, to kill him?” He asked in disbelief, emphasizing the last three words.

You shrugged. “I was just as surprised as you.” Dean scoffed, exaggerating his own shoulder shrug.

“So that’s it then, huh? Just, shrug it off, act like this is no big deal?” His voice roared, starting the fight you knew you couldn’t avoid.

“I know it’s a big fuckin’ deal, Dean! Why do you think I took it?” You shouted back, strutting over to stand in front of him. You took the glass from his hand, slamming it down so hard you were shocked it didn’t shatter. He shot up to his feet, towering over you.

“You shouldn’t have done it! We have no idea what we got into…”

You snapped back, cutting him off. “So that means you should have taken the risk?” His jaw clenched, and you knew he had nothing to come back with, so you continued. “I know you’re mad Dean, and I get it…”

“Mad?” Dean angrily whispered. “Sweetheart, I’m not mad, I’m fuckin’ furious. At you, at Crowley, at,” he faltered, “this whole damn thing. But more than that, I’m terrified.” You raised an eyebrow, not expecting that, nor the tears that were starting to well in his gorgeous green eyes. He took a long breath, and his hands cupped your face. “We have no idea how this ends, Y/N/N. And I can’t lose you.” His voice was no longer angry, but desperate as his thumbs brushed across your cheekbones.

“I couldn’t lose you either Dean,” you admitted, feeling your eyes start to water as well. He sighed, searching your gaze for an answer you didn’t have.

“I’ll figure this out.” You gave him your best bitchface, and his plump lips thinned into a straight line. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nodded, and he pulled you in, tucking your head under his chin. You knew he wanted to believe that, and right now, you needed that feeling of safety from him. So you tilted your head back, hoping he’d take the hint. His lips captured yours in a soft kiss, causing a tear to fall down your cheek when you closed your eyes. You didn’t know it, but one escaped Dean too as he poured all his love into that kiss, praying to anyone who might be listening that what he said would prove true.

You didn’t sleep much that night, worried your inevitable nightmares would wake Dean. So instead, you lay there quietly, trying to stop your thoughts from running wild. Needing a break from staring at the ceiling, you turned your head to glance at Dean. He was actually sleeping peacefully from the looks of it. His jawline relaxed for the first time that evening, soft lips closed. You were tracing his freckles in your mind when he startled you.

He swallowed, lips pursing as he did. Sleep hadn’t completely let go of its hold on him yet, his eyelids fluttering open just a fraction at first. You’d always thought he was adorable when he first woke up, and this time was no exception, right up until the events of the last day seemed to come back to him, and his gaze snapped to meet yours.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, green apple orbs filled with concern. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing you were the reason for that worry. He turned to rest on his side, facing you, skilled fingers tucked stray hair behind your ear.

You did your best to smile at him. “You know me too well.” You inched closer, burying your face into his strong chest. His arms pulled you in tight, one hand tangling itself in your hair.

“I’m sorry,” Dean murmured. You could feel the deep timbre of his voice, and you melted into the comfort he was providing. “I know you’re scared too, even if you won’t say it.”

“I believe the word is terrified,” you replied, half-jokingly. He kissed the top of your head.

“I promise you, Y/N/N, we will figure this out.” You nodded enough that he would feel it, afraid to speak and let out your fear. “But you have to sleep, okay? I’m right here.”

Him reminding you how much he loved you was the last straw, and you felt the sob eek out before you could stop it. He didn’t say anything, simply pulled you impossibly closer, as you breathed through your moment of panic.

Once your breathing evened out, he loosened his hold so he could rest his forehead on yours. “I love you, Y/N.”

You captured his lips in a sweet kiss, not trusting your voice yet.

“I know you do, sweetheart,” he mumbled against your lips before pulling back slightly, tucking your head back under his chin. “Now close those pretty eyes. I’ve got you, alright? You’re safe.”

He stroked your hair until he knew you had fallen asleep before he let his own tears fall, searing the memory of your body against his into his mind.

#dean winchester x reader #dean x moc!reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester comfort #dean x hunter!reader

[junkshop-disco]

Did you watch the Guy/Thomas scenes? Just wondering if it changed your opinion at all. I can't decide whether to watch them or if it'll upset me :(

I did. Under here for anyone still (somehow) dodging spoilers.

Tbh I quite liked some of the scenes themselves and the actors do a good job with the little they're given (although the colouring makes everyone look like Ross in The One With The Spray Tan Mishap, good luck gif makers). But I am still... sort of confused/uncomfortable about how ambiguously it's pitched? The music is doing a lot of heavy lifting to suggest the storyline is romantic but despite the likability of Guy in the other scenes, if I was at work and someone came into my office, sort of offered me a job and then felt me up, I would punch them. And I can't quite shake that feeling of not knowing what this is supposed to be: romance, work offer, some kind of job with benefits arrangement, or just sexual harassment Thomas is too weary to fight against or sees some kind of opportunity for escape in.

Regardless of what I think of the plot, I would like to be certain what the plot actually is, you know? If it's a romance, have Thomas kiss him and make it clear? If it's not, leave off with the workplace groping unless you're making a point about period-typical workplace groping? That Thomas himself seems confused about the nature of their relationship in the scene with Mary does not help and makes the whole thing come across like one big hedged bet, so if you're hoping for closure by watching the scenes or the film, you're probably not going to get it.

It feels to me like whether you're into this storyline for Thomas or not, you've got to bring a lot to it yourself in order to have it be satisfactory. To be sad for Thomas, you've got to imagine his feelings about leaving Downton and what happened with Richard because they're not really explored. To be pleased for Thomas, you've got to imagine him a future where this pans out somehow: his joy and hope is not on the screen. None of this is new for Thomas or indeed DA generally, of course, but JF has somehow pulled out of the bag a storyline that feels deeply indifferent to Thomas, which imo is the greatest injustice of all whatever your feelings about the content of this film. I can't tell you whether watching the scenes will upset you more or not because I watched them and I'm none the wiser myself.

And not to ramble off, here, but I actually think this touches on a wider problem for me with how JF sees and writes romance as an almost entirely social contract. He repeats the pattern over and over that romantic fulfilment is tied to moving up socially or becoming rich and will deus ex machina things out of his ass to make it happen. See: Edith could've had a perfectly nice romance with Bertie as an agent and continued the writing/editing career she enjoys and provided a counterpoint to Mary's life at Downton, but instead, out of nowhere Bertie is suddenly promoted to one of the most important people in the country despite it being in-verse unlikely and hinging on the death of a person we've never seen onscreen. See also: Molesley has always wanted to make something of himself and finds fulfilment as a teacher but that's not enough for JF, he has to suddenly become a screenwriter before he can be with Baxter, who would've happily married him when he was a delivery boy. There's this sense that meeting a person you love isn't enough: it has to come in a package of being whisked away to something JF considers better and more glamorous and that's nearly always oriented around money and viewed through a deeply classist lens.

Characters who don't follow this pattern tend to get shafted. See: Mary gets a whirlwind romance and a marriage with Henry, overlooking her reservations about his standing, and then he ghosts her on a fairly epic scale for two films and may as well not exist. See: Tom and Sybil marry, live a more ordinary life, and then Sybil dies. The Bateses start with the upgrade package: Bates gets left a house (by his presumably working class mother, but let's just handwave that) and so then they can marry, but the price for this is they will both go to prison for different murders, sexual violence, and a series of miscarriages.

The happiest relationships portrayed are the ones tied to financial or social gain on the part of one person, with Robert and Cora as the blueprint. I'm not saying these kinds of matches are unrealistic or ahistorical when it comes to the aristocracy, but the issue for me is that when you apply the same thinking to working class people, especially working class queer people, you're saying something completely different. You're saying: you don't get to be happy unless someone with more money and status chooses to pluck you out of your life. And with Thomas specifically, you're saying: discovering a community of queer men on your doorstep doesn't matter. Meeting someone from that community doesn't matter (because I do think we're supposed to read Richard as knowing about the existence of Turtons even if he's too circumspect to be a regular). Only proximity to glamour and money matter, making yourself complicit in the system that oppressed you is your only chance at any sort of freedom.

When you look at it like that, in JF world, Thomas could only have ended up with Richard if Richard was somehow revealed to have been a minor royal all along. Which JF couldn't do because he'd basically given that plot to Tom and Lucy.

As a working class queer, I have a massive problem with this underlying current that only social and/or financial climbing can bring contentment in relationships. It doesn't recognise that often part of queerness is seeing that all the systems, not just the ones about sexuality and gender, are complete bullshit. Which is a position and an understanding Thomas has espoused throughout. Guy hints at sharing this viewpoint with his 'don't call me sir' request (which Thomas rejects, incidentally), but his offer is written in such a wooly way that again, you have to do the work yourself to see it as a meeting of minds rather than a conditional, vague promise of enhanced freedom based on servitude and complicity in a bunch of bullshit systems. It just feels really... anti-queer to me, in a way that’s very little to do with how I feel about Guy as a character or even the decisions made around Richard, and far more to do with what the procession of disposable working class men (including Jimmy and Chris) says about the route to happiness and fulfilment presented.  

Anyway this has become a dissertation so I'll stop. Whatever you decide, good luck anon and my inbox is always open for venting <3

#downton abbey #downton abbey spoilers #downton abbey a new era #downton abbey a new era spoilers