#idk if its my set up or my focus is just gone idk

[in-som-niyah]

Jason todd who would def cut patrol short when reader calls him cuz her vibrator died??? idk i literally see his weakness as being needed in any way... <333

a/n: anon ur so right

"I'm on my way pretty girl, just sit tight for me."

warnings: piv sex, explicit smut, semi-rough sex, reader masturbates, reader has a vibrator, mentions of other sex toys, jason todd is a whore, no beta we die like men, jason uses spanish petnames because its sexier i dont make the rules, reader has a vagina, reader masturbates, sexual frustration, mentions of heaven & idk what else

The chill of another Gotham night kissed your supple skin. Fresh out of the shower, you made your way back to your Jason-less bed for the night.

The routine of Jason being gone on patrol was painfully familiar, but the ache it left in your chest remained foreign, no matter how many times you experienced it.

This time, he left in a hurry after you both left your business unfinished. His lips sucked at your neck and made their way down to your collarbone, only for his alarm to go off and his helmet to be tugged on. 'I'll see you after patrol, amorcita' he said, knowing full well he would be home around 4 am.

This left an ache in you. Not a fire yet, no, but a craving to be fed what he starved you of hours ago.

Finally dry and setting your towel down, you find a pair of clean underwear and a loose pyjama shirt and lower yourself into bed.

It was a cold night, the frigid sheets and absence of Jason only making it worse. Despite the discomfort, you couldn't deny yourself the subtle pleasure of rubbing your thighs together to satiate the pressing situation between them.

It had been so long since Jason left, and you were fucking needy for Christ's sake.

Deciding to get the job done yourself, you pull out the bullet vibrator that you used when Jason wasn't around. It wasn't that you deliberately kept him from it, he just never asked, and you needed a little escape when he left you in such a state.

Spreading your legs under the covers, you lightly stroked your clit with one hand, while the other toyed with your nipple.

You haven't even turned the damn thing on and you're a panting, dripping mess already, soaking your surrounding area in sweat and stickiness.

Your index finger pressed on the power button, and you increased the pressure on your clit. Instantly, you saw stars and the relief was unimaginable.

Just as you got a steady rhythm going, everything stopped.

You pressed and held down the power button again, but nothing happened.

Your puffy pussy begged for more stimulation, something as intense as the now-gone vibrations, but it was too late. There was no time to charge and all your other toys were dead.

Trying to still at least finish, you employ both your hands between your legs, one rubbing hard circles on your clit and the other prodding at your weeping entrance.

Tears of dissatisfaction burned rivers in your hot cheeks, and your fingers began to tremble and give out. It had been 45 minutes of trying to get yourself anywhere near an orgasm, and your desperation has reached its limit.

Jason always told you to call him in case of an emergency, and this was beginning to be a fucking emergency.

Jason was taking down a group of goons with his guns, while punching and kicking those who came too close. He was much less coordinated tonight (thanks to the tent in his pants), which the gang members took full advantage of. Thoughts of you and your supple skin ran marathons in his head, clouding all focus and occupying all his mental real-estate, making it hard to pay attention to the current pressing issues.

Just as he finished his last one off, his helmet alerts him of an incoming call from you. This is extremely strange, as you don't call or text when he's out at all. He picks up though, panting but quite anxious at the sudden change.

Before he has a chance to ask, you cut him off.

"please jay i-i need you..."

"Huh? What happened princess? Are you alright? Are you safe?" Jason blurts in a frenzy.

"y-yes but i n-need you and it hurts..." You whine pitifully.

"What hurts hm? Tell me, princessa." He continues worriedly as he mounts his motorcycle ready to speed back to you.

You moan at the pet name, sticky fingers returning to your abused cunt and beginning to rub at your clit again in hopes of creating some friction.

"Darling?"

Sudden embarrassment kept your form being straightforward with him and you resorted to another whimper of dissatisfaction once again.

"J-just come home, please Jay?"

"I'm on my way pretty girl, just sit tight for me." Jason responded with a click of the line going dead.

In the meantime, you were a pitiful writhing mess, voice hoarse and hands shaking. The covers have long been forgotten, leaving your open thighs trembling with both frustration and the cold.

Jason was shitting himself. Between your defeated pleas for him to just come home coupled with your reluctance to be specific, he was terrified.

His mind kept replaying scenarios of horror and bloodshed as he ignored every single traffic law to get back to you.

Finally outside your shared apartment, he flung himself up the fire escape and through your kitchen window. When it was deemed safe, he took off his mask and called out to you. He was met with a desperate sobs in response, which only made his worry grow.

Hard footsteps could be heard making their way closer to you, making you flinch slightly.

Upon flinging open the bedroom door, Jason was sorely unprepared to meet such a pitiful sight.

There you were, spread open for all to see. Cunt swollen and wet, dripping like a faucet onto the sweat-soaked sheets. Your braids ran wild behind you as your bonnet had slipped off and your entire body was trembling due to the chill in the air.

Even as his huge form stood over you, your shaky and tired hands continued to rub at your clit, desperate for relief. Your bitten lips were still being chewed and your teary eyes remained squeezed shut.

Jason softened and hardened at the same time, but in different places.

You open your eyes to find him in his tactical gear looming over you and your hands immediately fly up from you body to make grabby hands at him.

He manages a genuine, soft smile despite the carnal desire brewing in his pants.

Before he indulges though, he need to make sure you're okay first.

"Hey, I'm right here love. You alright?" He whispers over your shaking body, his hand volunteering to rub your calf in effort to soothe your shaking.

"J-Jay? fuck I need-" you sob as your trembling hand returns to your abused clit once again.

He catches your hand and kisses the back of it, knowing that this will only overstimulate you. However, this was all the confirmation he needed. Jason stripped himself quickly and crawled his way up to you on the bed.

"Shhhh I know querida, I know... Does it hurt?" Jason questions, trying to gauge the situation the best he could.

You nod fervently, just wanting some fucking relief. Your hips were sore from being in such an open position for so long, your breasts and nipples were raw, and oh god you didn't want to acknowledge the burning between your legs.

Just then, Jason captured your lips with his as soft reassurance. This gentleness didn't last, as your desires began to overtake your mouths and soon, you were both hungrily devouring each other.

Jason was here, with you, right here, right now. 

His hands began to roam, your body, soothing all the tension and frustration that was once there. It hurt him to feel your muscles trembling in such a painful way, but also inspired him to make them shake for a more intimate purpose.

Jason's mouth made its way down your body, from the back of your left ear to your collarbone, making your gasp as he left marks of his devotion in his wake. His journey led him to the valley between your breasts, where his hands began to knead your right breast with practiced skill.

"J-Jay please- oh~"

At your call, his head perks up from where he was kissing down your stomach, just above your navel.

Jason's lustful green eyes settle on your pleading and desperate gaze, to which he smirks and settles the side of his head on your soft tummy and continues holding your gaze.

"Tell me how you want me, cariño"

You bit your lip. All this longing has robbed you of your ability to think, and in the most crucial moment, your mind went blank.

Seeming to notice, Jason moves himself back up to your face, silver chain dangling from his neck over yours, and employs his left hand to smooth your braids from your face.

"You want me to fuck you like the heavens have forsaken us, hm?"

You moan and nod, one of your hands moving to his weeping length and beginning to stroke it.

Jason devours you again, making you eat his moans and whimpers, and finally positions himself between your legs.

Upon swiping a thick finger between your folds he realizes that he's completely good to go, no prep needed.

"Deep breath, mami~" he grits out. He doesn't wait for a response before he's pushing himself all the way in.

You both moan in unison, and continue to do so as Jason's thrusts pickup speed and force.

As soon as he's found a rhythm his mouth and hands didn't leave your body. His chain dangled closely above you as he kissed your cheeks and neck, and his hands kneaded and squeezed wherever they went.

Surprising to neither of you, Jason's pace quickly became brutal, but he continued hitting all the sensitive spots inside your warm walls. His roughness never overshadowed his ability to bring you pleasure, he made sure of that.

Remembering your sore hips, Jason pulls a pillow under your ass to change the angle, which allows him to reach that much deeper inside you.

Your pussy clenches hard at the newfound pleasure and the coil in your lower tummy begins to unravel.

"You like that 'ma? This tight pussy tells me you do." He chuckles.

All you can do is moan and grip the soft sheets for dear life; Jason was making you see Andromeda. 

The coil, never forgotten, was closing in quickly, by which Jason was undeniably privy to due to your walls closing on on him.

You threw your head back and tried to stay in the moment without getting lost in the anticipation of your impending orgasm.

At this, Jason's now free hand found the back of your head and lifted it back up to meet his gaze.

"Amorcita? I know you're close, mi vida. You know what I want" Jason whispers against your mouth, his breath ghosting over your bitten and swollen lips.

The coil was becoming unbearable now. You were teetering on just the edge, just the painstaking precipice of and absolutely mind-bending orgasm.

You notice that Jason was getting sloppier, and his thrusts quicker and not as deep. His quick breaths became laboured and his eyes screwed shut. He was close. 

"You're right there darling. C'mon, cum with me." He says before he smashes his lips on yours and thrusts hard. The coil in your tummy finally snapping at the surprise.

Galaxies and other stars bathed in white bliss was all you were able to perceive as the long-awaited orgasm claimed every blazing nerve in your body. No longer cold, but cozily warm your body felt as the waves of pleasure continued to cascade throughout your body.

Your other half was pushed over the edge by your climax, which then painted your insides a sticky white while he groaned in your ear upon release.

You were too far gone to notice his thrusts coming to a stop and his hands running themselves up and down your sides, gently coaxing your back in the present with him.

"Mami? You back with me yet" Jason whispers in your neck.

You barely register what he's saying, outside stimulation being very hazy and distant.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if you're with me yet." He says with a laugh. You looked so lost but finally content.

You nod your head, but this was't sufficient.

"Words, querida."

"Yeah, I'm good." You respond with a sigh.

Though you knew tomorrow morning would be hell on your muscles, you were finally satisfied and happy.

Jason kissed your forehead and got up to get a towel, but stopped once he got to the ensuite bathroom and turned to look at you while leaning on the doorframe.

"Oh and baby?"

You turn over to look at him, your eyes not being able to fight the urge to roam the expanse of his glorious body as if your guts weren't already rearranged.

"Hmm?"

"I hope you never charge that vibrator again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n pt2: PHEWWWW YALL THIS TOOK SO LONG AND MY BROWSER QUIT AND I ALMOST LOST ALL MY PROGRESS

anyways its 3am night night

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #jason peter todd #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #dcu #jason todd comfort #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #jason todd x black!reader #robin jason todd #redhood #red hood smut #red hood x you #the red hood #under the red hood #arkham knight x gn!reader #x black fem reader #x black reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #black reader #arkham knight x reader #dc x reader #arkham knight smut

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it. 

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves. 

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady. 

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon. 

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull. 

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set. 

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right. 

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped. 

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him. 

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything. 

The two of you, like grief and the mountain. 

-

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself. 

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be. 

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled. 

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking. 

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs. 

A friend, indeed. 

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots. 

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?” 

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were? 

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face. 

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one. 

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you. 

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship. 

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand. 

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe. 

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk. 

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small. 

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can. 

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts. 

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down. 

“What’ve I told you?” He barks. 

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–��� She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian. 

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame. 

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his. 

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate. 

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially. 

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years. 

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly. 

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face. 

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right. 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins. 

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest. 

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes. 

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go. 

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.” 

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.  

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company. 

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night. 

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated. 

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue. 

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half. 

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man. 

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly. 

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep. 

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it. 

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward. 

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears. 

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal. 

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly. 

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.  

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here. 

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

-

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions. 

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber. 

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons. 

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now. 

Your desire. 

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?” 

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still. 

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again. 

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher. 

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically. 

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now. 

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor. 

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that— 

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man. 

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive. 

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand. 

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting. 

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words. 

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive. 

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust. 

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want. 

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does. 

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.” 

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs. 

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh. 

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you. 

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display. 

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury. 

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence. 

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.” 

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him. 

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact. 

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls. 

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him. 

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand. 

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears. 

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard. 

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter. 

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before. 

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it. 

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

 If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him. 

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

-

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String. 

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid. 

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you. 

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight. 

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath. 

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles. 

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself. 

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

 Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

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[socksandbuttons]

i love ur bloodmoon thoughts sm and i agree with all of them ‼️‼️

they squandered his character sm and theres barely been any development since he got brought back to life… especially on the KC side. id love to see how youd rewrite it tbh- or if you want feel free to just use this ask as a bloodmoon thoughts dump

ALRIGHT SO We can run along with bm2 But also them going 'no their NOT the original thus we dont need to think about their charascter' as they seemingly established a bit with that but also not? Like that kinda furthers BM's whole arc of being treated like a murder machine (he was LITERALLY rebuilt for that, nothing more than tool!), and yet instead of USING THAT (which like.... we kinda got a bit of that with Eclipse, no i wont get into that.) they go 'HMNNN no, we dont wanna develop this further hes just villain' LIKE. SURE. ALRIGHT. BUT... YOU LITERALLY HAD SO MANY SET UPS WITH LIKE... His weird attachment to monty that one TIME yknow the 'hes my dad!' even tho hes not and its very debatable with Eclipse and KC depending how you wanna go about it (In terms of WHO made bloodmoon its Eclipse whos derived from KC and Moon and SUN.) Where was I YEAH HIS THEME OF NO ONE IS FAMILY BUT BLOODMOON. Only THEY understand that theyre not a tool or worthless! (Yknow just completely missing a way to use their codependence to help further their own coping of SEVERAL THINGS.) Yet he still STILL seeked out and called KC father, he still somewhat has thoughts on family. He's going after EARTH who's just vibin' trying to be accepting, even jealous of LUNAR for 1) being brought back and two) survived Eclipse and lives happily (sorta) and while begrudgingly i must say forgot bloodmoon. (WHICH LIKE. THATS THEIR OWN FAULT FOR NOT DRAGGING LUNAR INTO THAT PLOT EVEN THO HE HAD ALL THIS BLOODMOON INFO DURING THAT WHOLE THING. not used it ONCE. they purposely left lunar out of that and thats annoying. chaos sibligns 4 lyfe) Anyway you COULD so still use that in regards to Sun trying to reach out to them ('I wouldve loved another brother' will forever be brought up. also literally in the same convo sun does admit hed kill em again but WE'RE FOCUSING ON THE FAMILY PART GUYS) I'd have to scrap some like... lets see here.... UmMM i CAN use the attacking lunar thing still. Cause whole jealous thing they didnt understnad their own thoughtS (THEY THOUGHT MONTY WAS THEIR PARENT WHICH LIKE??? a stretch honestly. cmon we know this. theyre definitely making their own excuses) iDK ABOUT attacking earth, cause by that point everyone is kinda dead set on murdering them its actually pretty bad by that point unless KC comes back jesus style and goes 'NO. I'll handle this' proceeds to drag bloodmoon off into the desert for family bonding time (and rehabilitation.) Which he wont but we also gotta remember Bloodmoon is deliberately being used a scapegoat (despite yknow... he did DO all that by his volition still like he WOULD NOT have gone after kc like that if not for ruin going 'hey u wanna see ur dad who totoally didnt care for ur ass' or 'you should totally go kill a bunch of people. and then threaten lunar and earth BUT WAIT no killing ill shock u!' im losing focus but THEY WERE... sort of going somewhere with Bloodmoon not wanting to be a tool. AND having solar interfere (I still hate that whole 'he reminds me of my moon thus he must die'. Retcons... everywhere. Remember when he wanted to save his moon?? yeah? cool cause ill never forget that actually.) KC dying actually WOULDNT have been so bad (aside the... suddenly being an ass about it. But he was direct to bloodmoon about 'BRUH UR BEING USED.' and them never actually... bringing that up too much) angering BM enough to kill KC is actually pretty solid way to use the whole 'Bm not satisfied with Killing' as a very direct way KC's words last on BM especially BM's whole unstable emotions of NOT understanding the feelings theyre going through because of that other than anger (denial, grief, confusion and conflict of how Hurt that mustve been they wanted more family) oh this is getting long and im losing focus.

#anyway. love the idea that u could USE the fact theyre not the original as a whole them coping with their emotions 'we are better!' but like #hes got more trauma than the og by this point #already IMPLANTED the moment they were made #sams bloodmoon #ill... we'll come back eventually

[wildglitch]

What if Zombies!Spidey x DCU LETS GOOOOOOOOO-

O K-

So, This is the (Probably not the last, don't worry) post with ideas for my What If Zombies!Peter In the DCU AU. This is the post that (Finally) Focuses on the DC side of things. This post Is also going to be mainly focused on Peter and what he's up to cause he's the focus of this AU, but I’m probably gonna make another post with info on the other heroes, so If your interested in that, don't worry cause I am thinking about them (Bucky & Loki = Brainwashed bros)

Its also part 1 of Idk since this post kinda got away from me with its length (oops)

Anyways, without further adieu, let's start :D 

-So! starting this off with something fun and not that serious that I just found out. this should have probably gone in the first post but I didn't know this until now so here, a +1 info on “facts about the zombie apocalypse” tm. 

Ok, so at this point you know I like to play around with the timeline right? Ok so, I’m researching the dates and events things take place in right? Turns out, the snap happened in either May or June, and one source even said that it happened on May 31. Now, with this in mind and the fact that I said the apocalypse lasted between 7-8 months, what happens if you subtract 8 months from May? You get October. And if you add the date to it? Guys…I accidentally made it that the zombie apocalypse starts on Halloween! That's just insane!

The official timeline now is 8 months of the zombie apocalypse, no more no less, sorry, I don't make the rules :^ (omg I made Antman & the Wasp a halloween movie lmao. It fits)

-Alright so, Peter, Head Scott/w the cloke and T’challa are on a plane on their way to Wakanda when all of a sudden, well, how many of you seen the Young Justice Episode s1e19 Misplaced? (Btw have I talked about how much I love Billy batson? I will one of these days ok, and that's a threat) well anyways

Airplane squad: *”peacefully” traumatized on a plane to Wakanda

Airplane squad: *the people on the plane fucking fazes out of reality leaving him alone to fly the plane*

Peter: *Panik*

Peter: *feels a pull wanting to take him but fighting it off as he tries to fly a fucking plane*

Peter: *also fades out of reality but much later the other and is now falling to certain doom in the middle of the ocean*

Peter: “Oh What the F-”

Ya that-

I mixed aspects of the snap and scene from misplaced as their way of splitting up. And, they did split up. A high speed plane plus the time it took them to disappear firmly separates Peter from the rest of the heros. And thus the adventure commences

-unlike Billy who can fly, Peter falls head first at top speeds and a thousand meters high into the ocean.  This can happen a few different ways

1) Peter is stranded, and is found by Young Justice or any superhero team that was passing through the ocean and thinks “Oh shoot, that's a child”. And this is how he ends up with the league. This one is kinda fast and there wouldn't be any identity reveal since at this point this Peter has no concept of such a thing. But a good way to work around this is memory loss. Not really my cup of tea but I can very much see this happening considering how hard he hit his head

2) …So Peter fucking dies-

Listen! I somehow started off with my 2 most opposite extremes of ideas, but hear me out. The fall? It kills him. But lets say that some cult or the league of assassins or some shit find his body, realize he’s a “meta” and decide “Yeah, this is a good revival candidate” And they revive the poor sucker. He is held captive HYDRA style and they try to turn him into a weapon. Obviously, he escapes, set free onto the world with a few months of trauma and a stolen one way ticket anywhere. And that anywhere just so happens to be Gotham. I’ll let your mind take it from there

3) This is the last version of events I’m gonna mention and I think this one is the one I'm sticking with, purely for the comedic potential I can see coming out of this. So Peter fought back the spell right? Well unlike the snap where he was fighting a force of nature were he would not have won, Peter was fighting Loki off, which,

Yeah, so since Loki had to focus on getting that idiot spider child to cooperate, he loses track of everyone else, and all of a sudden, the fuzzy mental image he had of everyone dissipates, and Peters becomes the full focus. This lets him save the kid from the crash, but he now doesn't know where all of the others are, including his brother, and now he can't really get to any of them.

Peter: Fighting off that staticy feeling that's trying to take him

Loki: *Genuinely struggling to get this non magic kid to corporate with him*

Loki: Damnit CHILD! I'm trying to save your worthless life!

Peter: *Legit almost wins and gets left by himself in the zombieland* 

Loki: …What did they feed you?

-Peter is saved with a spell that's basically the bubble from steven universe but Loki style. He can breathe just fine, but he can't get out or call for hell. He spends many Hours like this.

-Ok so, Loki is a god. We have established this, I keep mentioning it (sorry) he himself brings this up multiple times. What is something gods tend to have sometimes? Avatars, people who act out their will on Earth. You see where I'm going with this? Since Peter is the only mortal from his world he has access to, and because he is stuck on the watchtower, he decides to make a deal with Peter to make him his Avatar and have him look for the others (Thor). Peter, after having most of the situation explained to him, accepts his offer, with a few conditions here and there that prevent Loki from taking full advantage of him. But at the end of the day, they are both desperate and accept the others' offers and conditions with little fuss.

-Deals and conditions for the avatar contract between Peter and Loki

Loki’s Mission: Find the other mortals and spread chaos as his agent Loki’s Offer: Slight magical aid, “ability boost”, Protection from other magical entities, Godly guide and knowledge and Loki wont force Peter into doing anything too grotesque Loki’s conditions for Peter: He will be able to access anything Peter is seeing and be able to take control of any situation if he sees it fit, he must go on the missions he sends him on, And if the situation ever truly demands it, he will listen to everything Loki tells him to do Peter’s Mission: Finding his friends and finding a cure to his world in this new one as Loki’s Agent. He must also make good impressions on other Magical being in this world as to not shame the god he’s representing Peter Offer: His loyalty and tentative trust, he won't argue too much and will do his absolut best to find Thor. he will Listen to Loki and do what he says Peter’s Conditions for Loki: Will become his Avatar as long as he gets to keep being a hero and doesn't have to hurt or kill people. He will only do a mission once a month, and he will not advertise the Avatar bit. Peter gets free will, He can refuse to do something as long as he isn't demanded of it.

With this, a hand shake, and some blood, The deal is made in the bubble in the middle of the ocean.

-Peter is now Loki’s Avatar, Moonknight style, Yay! They don't really like each other that much due to circumstance but it's fineeeeeee. I did this because 1) I thought of a scenario that didn't really make sense unless Peter was somehow talking to him 2) It’s a little nod to the fact most of the fics have the snapped souls with Peter on his adventure. I thought that this way he can still have his voice in his head , it's not that crowded because it's only one voice, and it's not that Intrusive because Loki isn't going to be with Peter 24/7 only when he needs him, he's using some of his powers, or when he can sense distress or danger coming from Peter- Other than that he's stuck at the watchtower trying to plan his next moves. And 3) Cause the thought came to me and i thought it was fucking Holirouse.

-With Some trickery, Peter sneaks onto a boat and spends his time hidden under the deck pretending and hides like a corner spider the whole trip

-Peter in his, Hasn't been around actual living breathing humans for such a long time, self, breaks down and cries at the docks. Coincidentally, The bats are doing a drug bust there and a wearhouse not 10 feet away from him blows up. 

-Peter in his typical fashion, Puts on his mask and runs into the building looking for survivors.

-The bats, not knowing what happened, see’s this costume stranger helping the thugs get away and immediately clocks him as a villain. Opps

-They fight, misunderstandings happen and now, The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man Is on the front page as gothams hottest new Rogue. Well shit

-Peter being the smart guy he is, squats at an unoccupied apartment and claims it as his. Then Loki shows up after weeks of radio silence, takes one look at the place and says, hell nah, and fixes the place up with magic making the place more than livable. With some (probably magical) persuasion, the guy renting out the place actually puts him on the lease with 50 bucks of monthly rent. Does Peter feel guilty…well? Gotta roll with the punches man. Plus, this place looks nice, ignoring his 20 something neighbor that has enough blood on him to turn his white hair dye red that had sent his spider sense. This is fine.

-With some help from the voice in his head and walking through dark alleys at night, he finds a guy that works for immigration and was selling sketchy (But legit) identities. Not really trusting the guy but in desperate need and ID for the lease he was about to sign, He coughs up all the savings he had, took a Photo, and Ben P. Riley was born. He said he didn't trust the guy.

-Peter has decided to go by an alias for a few reasons, like not knowing if there was already another Peter Parker in this reality and not really wanting to risk it or the plain fact that he didn't really trust anyone in this new reality with it  (Loki and his magical guidance, he has firmly decided to never give out his name so freely ever again). His name is one of the last things from his past life that he can call his own, And if his “Villainous” identity was revealed as Peter Parker, he didn't know if he could handle it. The most simple reason was that he just missed his family and wanted something in this new life he was making for himself to remind himself of them. Ofcourse, he still added that P in there middle so as to not completely erase himself.

-Peter spends a full month just trying to get used to living in a society again, This causes some problems and misunderstandings.

-After many series of misunderstandings and mishaps, everyone thinking he's evil, Peter decides, YK what's, If I can't beat them, join them. Peter starts going out as the “Villain Spider-Man” doing sketchy shit (normal teenage shit) and causing a commotion in Gotham. Peter counts this as his act of mischief and Loki agrees when he sees the kid sell his own photos to the newspaper. Peter isn't actually doing anything evil, it's just his presence that brings fear. The fact that the bats have caught him breaking into multiple high security facilities doesn't really help his case

-Peter spends his months looking through files and files of info searching for the others, but has just about no luck on anything.

-Peter, forced by a mission, goes undercover in Gotham prep to follow one of Loki’s leads. He doesn't really know what he's doing here, but this Tim guy is pretty nice

-Cause of the amazing pictures he keeps selling to the paper, the company hires him full time as their photographer for special events and even lets him write a few articles when they see the notes he puts next to his pictures that provide contexts and stuff like that. This job opens Peter to search to a whole new horizon.

-With Peter's new job, hes sent to many different cities which introduces him to many different people

-He meets Jimmy Olson on a trip to Metropolis and hits it off pretty well with the older man. Jimmy introduces him to his friends and coworkers Lois and Clark, both of whom are just a delegate. Though that Clark guy as not stopped setting of his spider sense since he met him

-The next place he went to was a city called Fawcett, where he was sent to help with a story with one of the local reporters who was apparently his age.

Boss guy: Ben, meet Billy. You two will be working together on the report for this years summer festival

The two sniff each other out as godly “employees” and exchange numbers. And thus, a friendship was born as Billy decided to keep an eye out for any other reality travelers, and Peter is put as one of his emergency contacts to help him get out of shit since he was “technically 20 according to his ID”

Peter: *Looks at Billy*

Billy: *Looks at ‘Ben’*

*Insert that one Spider-Man meme*

-Peter is also sent to Gothams sister city Bludhaven. Peter,ends up meeting a weird police officer that keeps expecting him to take pictures of the guy. But he's nice enough and bought him a hotdog and a cinnamon roll(even though he now thinks he's allergic to them), so the weird outweighs the good.

-On his trip to Bludhaven, Peter decides to go out as spider-man. Not to cause trouble, but to go sightseeing and swinging without the interference of a bat. He ends up sitting upside down on an old building (like that one Atsv scene)  working on some leads he has when all of a sudden, Nightwing appeared right behind him dangling off the side of the building like a mad man giving him a heart attack. Nightwing is about to confront the spider after his sneak attack was caught, but before he does, Peter holds out the cinnamon roll towards the vigilante as a peace offering rushing out the words “Please don't hit me!” and Nightwing just stares. He stares long and hard looking between the treat and the Spider mask. Peter was about to run from them when Nightwing sort of just…sits. Or sits at the best of his abilities with no gravity defying powers. He actually does a pretty good job at it. Nightwing takes to offering with a nod and the 2 just sort of sit there in silence. It's awkward and weird, and quiet but for some reason he doesn't feel as uncomfortable as he thinks he should. Even less when he feels the ringing of his spider senses slowly die down as the minutes pass until it's just a constant hum at the back of his head

-They don't talk after that but from here is a turning point as to how the Bat clan view the spider.

More? Nay I say! (There will be a part 2 to this specific post, but it has gotten too long and I need to go to bed. So hopefully this will do for now :^) Plus this feels like agood stoping point since I feel like that ending would mark the ending to an arc

Please let me know what you think of this AU. I love seeing other people's ideas and thoughts. It fuels me lo

And make sure to keep an eye out for Part 2 of this post.

Later

#peter parker #mcu #dcu #crossover prompt #crossover #zombies #zombie au #spiderman x batfam #batman #loki laufeyson #billy batson #clark kent #lois lane #jimmy olsen #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #what if #au idea #au #damn this is a long post #I keep forgetting what tags to use for these lol #i should have a list #wiz!au

[kindlespark]

this is gonna be SO long and rambly sorry anyway i saw a post abt how babel does queer characters and it got me thinking abt why the tropes it uses would usually turn me off other stories but didn’t here

MAJOR BABEL SPOILERS //

i feel like i’d be more mad abt how robinramy ended up in babel if it marketed itself as queer lit at all or if its fans were going “WOW AMAZING QUEER REP” abt it. but no one told me any of that, so finding out they were gay was just a fun little bonus surprise to me. i get why ppl are eh abt robinramy not getting together/technically still being subtext (which i dont think is really true btw like the book literally says “robin was falling in love” but idk i guess if you were stupid you might’ve assumed that it was falling in love with oxford given how romantic some of the other language is (WHICH IS ALSO THE POINT bc i think robin’s friendship with ramy blurring into romance is why he romanticised like all his friendships/experiences in oxford BUT IM GETTING OFF-TOPIC)). i just think robin’s repression abt being gay was intrinsically tied to his attitudes on imperialism (wrt refusing to acknowledge anything that complicated his life until it was too late) and i don’t consider it a cop out or queerbait. like i genuinely don’t think robinramy could ever have gotten together without drastic alterations being made in terms of plot and character. plus i think it’s clear that kuang didn’t want to write a story with any kind of focus on romance at all, because it’s not that kind of book. there’s no successful het romance either, so it grates a lot less. the only reason romance is included at all is to show the ways in which white entitlement manifests. so the tragic way robinramy played out just made sense to me.

and i speak as someone who accidentally spoiled myself on You Know What in the middle of reading and i was like ugghh boooo dreading it the whole time expecting to roll my eyes when it happened but then when it did i was like. wow im actually not that mad LMFAO 😭😭😭 actually thematically the book sets it up so well that i believed that this was unfortunately the only way it could’ve gone. babel is about the loss and tragedy and grief that colonised people experience. it’s about the lengths people will go to to uphold empire and the lengths ppl will go to to tear it down like idk 😭 i guess it is bury your gays but it didnt bother me this time because i thought it fit thematically ❤️ i enjoy tragedy as a genre a lot and i would’ve made it gay anyway you know. thanks rf kuang for doing it for me so i didnt have to.

WHICH IS ALL TO SAY that i guess if you’re going into babel for the queer rep without appreciating that the story is fundamentally a tragedy it would feel like it’s just reusing tired tropes….. but i think the choices kuang made were rly deliberate and not in a way that feels like trauma porn or shock value. the book is fundamentally about the struggles of poc so the layer of queerness that was introduced felt like a subtle extension of the experiences of characters of colour in the book, and i enjoyed and related to it as a queer chinese person who kind of realised they had to prioritise their fight for the liberation of poc over queerness mainly because the idea of western queer liberation cannot be dissociated from imperialism and many aspects of homophobia as we know it was an export of christian european empire into our colonised countries in the first place and FUCK THIS IS A WHOLE OTHER TANGENT ABOUT HOW I THINK RAMY AS A CHARACTER IS EMBLEMATIC OF THE TENSION AND STRUGGLE THAT QUEER POC DIASPORA HAVE BETWEEN OUR IDENTITIES GODDAMNIT OK FORGET IT POST CANCELLED i just rly think babel’s handling of queer characters is fine and makes sense and i like it personally and maybe i will make a coherent analysis about it one day but that day is not today byeeeeeee

#/ #// #sam speaks #byeeee ive been trying to type this post for over an hour but i give up #slashes are there bc i dont want it to show up in the main tag it’s rly incoherent and also subjective #babel #babel spoilers

[morerandombullshit]

Deserve (Vergil x f!Reader)

Rating: 18+ (MDNI but not like that stopped you guys anyway)

Pairing: Vergil x f!Reader

Summary: You finally left your abusive ex for good over him cheating on you, but it's still weighing on you. Vergil finds out and decides to comfort you in the only way he really knows how to comfort another person.

CW: Cheating, implied abuse, slightly angsty, bit of hurt/comfort, comfort sex (kinda??), unprotected sex (DO NOT TRY AT HOME) oral (f!rieceiving), face-sitting, consent, begging (only if you squint), creampies, slight dom/sub dynamics (or it's not slight idrk), dom Vergil/sub Reader, praise, degradation (just a little sprinkling only if you squint i promise), slight edging (ok maybe not so slight aha), clothes-ripping, semi-monster sex, aftercare pet names used: darling, sweetheart, pretty girl, perfect girl, good girl, my love, mine

Word count: 4573 (i totally didn't get too into this fic, no i didn't)

Note: I don't even fucking know how I came up with this idea (guess I was scrolling through too much DMC Boys x Reader smut and shit but oh well I have zero regrets), but in my notebook it's literally 18 and a quarter pages long and I was up until 2am finishing it off because I couldn't sleep and then I tried to show my best friend my writing at some point but he couldn't read my handwriting and shit (2am writing ftw, I guess)—

Anyways, enjoy this...explosion of smut, because I'm kinda on a little bit of a fluff writing kick/writer's block thing rn and idk when I'm gonna write more soooooo

Also Cameron Grey's I Want It All is basically the vibe for this oneshot, I recommend listening to it on repeat as you read— 

Sitting on the couch at Devil May Cry, you force yourself to focus on the magazine print in front of you. It's after hours and everyone's gone home—except for you and Dante's twin, Vergil. 

Vergil's cold and intimidating presence makes you feel like a storm is approaching every time he's around. But that body, though...shit. Strong jawline, short and slicked back silvery-white hair, ice blue eyes, cherry lips, toned body, ass like it was sculpted by a fucking ethereal being...Something lights like fire low in the pit of your stomach, and you shift a bit on the couch, still trying to focus on the magazine. Footsteps sound from across the room, and as the familiar scent of storms, fresh-cut grass and sage permeates your senses, that warmth between your thighs transmutes to a light throbbing.

Vergil steps into the room and you drop your eyes to the magazine, deciding it better to ignore that feeling right now. It's always happened whenever he's around—even when you were dating your abusive ex, but you push that thought away and continue hyperfocusing on the page in front of you. You toss your feet up onto an arm of the couch, leaning your head and putting the magazine at a tilted angle in the air.

"Y/N."

You sit up a bit, dropping the magazine. Vergil's always had a cold and imperious vibe around everyone, so you have to admit you're surprised he bothers to know your name. "Shit, didn't notice you." you reply, lying and hoping he doesn't know you are. "What is it?"

He walks a bit closer to you, grabbing a chair—his usual plastic one (he has threatened murder if someone else so much breathes on it before, now that you think about it)—and sitting in it, setting the Yamato against one of its armrests and letting it lean against the white plastic. "What're you doing here so late? I'd have thought you'd be at home right now."

At the mention of home, your stomach churns with nausea—the week before, you'd moved your stuff out of the apartment you had shared with your ex, and you're still trying to find a new place to live. Dante—after you begrudgingly told him why you were looking for a new place to live—said you could stay in Devil May Cry for as long as you need. 

Vergil doesn't know, though. But something in you wants to tell him, so you take a breath in and say, "I'm...between homes right now. Dante said I could stay here for as long as I need, and it's a better option than the streets."

"Would you mind if I asked why you're between homes at the moment?" he asks you, and you hear his voice sound less...cold for a moment. "Uh...my abusive ex cheated and I was sharing an apartment with him. Couldn't stand to live there after all the shit he pulled."

Your eyes have been trained to your boots the whole time but you look up, but you look up at Vergil and see the ice blue eyes blazing—a surefire sign he might go Devil Trigger. And for some reason, that makes the throbbing between your thighs more apparent, and harder to ignore. You shift your weight on the couch, trying to do it subtly enough that he doesn't notice—but knowing how shitty your luck is, he does. Vergil raises an eyebrow at you, and you regret all your fucking life decisions. "Something wrong?" he asks.

Oh, nothing. Just the fact that you're somehow turning me the fuck on, you think to yourself before clearing your throat and replying with, "No."

"You're always clearing your throat before you speak a lie." he says, and your brow furrows. His voice imperceptibly softens at the next thing he says. "It's...cute, in a way."

You cough a bit, startled by his sudden statement. "What?"

"It is." Vergil leans forward in his chair, a little closer to the couch you're sitting on. "But I have to wonder...what is wrong?"

You shrug, resisting the urge to clear your throat again. "Wanted to shift my position on the couch—it was getting uncomfortable sitting in one position for that long."

"Hm." he replies, his ice blue eyes boring into yours, making that already noticeable throb between your thighs even more unbearable to hide. A taut tension blankets over the two of you, and your tongue swipes out to lick your lips. Vergil's eyes drop to your lips instantly, and that taut tension becomes even more taut, if that's possible.

You drop your gaze to the ground, but your eyes snag on a growing bulge tightening the black leather of his pants, which causes your mouth to go bone dry, causing you to lick your lips again. As quickly as you had noticed his cock growing harder through his pants, you drop your gaze to its intended destination—the floor—and try to forget you ever saw it. 

That taut tension between you and Vergil continues, neither of you talking. His gaze locked on your lips, yours locked on the ground—though seeing how his cock had strained against his pants is at the forefront of your mind, and that throbbing between your thighs becomes mildly painful. It's an effort not to wince, an effort to not press your hands so tightly together you might break a few bones. 

"Y/N." Vergil says, his voice a little lower and rougher than before, his breath hitting your ear. When the hell did he move?,  you wonder to yourself before realizing, Oh, wait. He's half-demon. 

"Yeah." you mutter as a form of response, since your mind's more focused on how close he is to you right now—the distance between your bodies only inches apart, which makes that throbbing between your thighs even worse. "Tell me what's wrong," he murmurs, his breath still hitting your ear as he uses one hand to tilt your chin up towards his face. "And tell me how to make it better."

Other than the fact that you're so turned on you almost can't see straight, something you'd never tell him even if your life depended on it, there's an...emptiness. Having dated your abusive ex for so long before you ended it because you'd found him with his face between the thighs of some girl you didn't recognize has left a bigger toll on you for the past week, more than you care to admit. "I was living with my abusive ex. A week ago, I caught him eating some other girl out, and I decided I wasn't taking the abuse anymore, so..."

Vergil's eyes flash slightly, and for a moment, you think he's going to go Devil Trigger, but he doesn't—only that kernel of demonic power lies in his eyes, a show of his rage. "I will fucking hunt him down and end him. Slowly," he says, voice taking on a slight and low snarling quality in his anger. And you don't know if you've ever heard him curse before, but the throbbing between your thighs intensifies when you hear it. "Did he hurt you?"

It takes you a moment to respond to that, unsure of how to do it for fear of what he's going to do, but you reply with, "Yes."

"He never fucking deserved you." he says matter of factly, his voice still taking on that slight, low snarling quality. "You're better off without him."

"I know." you sigh. "But abusers tend to manipulate their victims. And I hate how I agreed to move in with him a month into our relationship. Should've realized it was of him—"

Your words get cut off when Vergil straight up puts his mouth on yours. The kiss isn't exactly gentle, but there's a comforting quality to it behind all the pure want he's kissing you with. It takes you a second to kiss back, but once you do, you're lost in it. God, the feeling of Vergil's mouth pressing against your has been chasing your dreams for so long now, maybe even you first met him or your first day at Devil May Cry—your mind and body keep wanting more more more as that throbbing between your thighs starts to ache, causing you to let out an unbidden whine into his mouth. 

He pulls away again, and you almost whine again, hating the loss of contact as you resist the urge to rub your thighs together. His breath and yours are mingling, both of you panting slightly. "You have no fucking idea how I've wanted to do that." Vergil murmurs, voice rougher than usual. "No fucking idea of the things I want to do to you."

A breathless sound is your only reply, and the hand that isn't gripping your chin falls to your hip, and your back arches slightly as he kneads your skin through your shirt, "Let me touch you," he mumbles, burying his face into your neck and brushing his nose against your skin. "Just—let me touch you. Please." 

You're silent for a moment, and Vergil pulls back a tiny bit, making you realize he's letting you decide—letting you decide whether you want to go further or stop and forget this ever happened. He'll keep going only with a confirmation that you want this, and only if it's a yes you're sure about—he doesn't want you to be pressured. You swallow, and you see his eyes flick to the hollow of your throat, tracking the movement. "Okay." you say, pressing a hand to his chest, right above his heart. 

No sooner than the word leaves you, Vergil has his mouth right on the side of your neck, his hand dropping from your chin and going to your other hip—both hands kneading through your shirt now. You tilt your head back, a silent plea for him to keep going. A sound emerges from low in his throat—some kind of growl?—and he skims his mouth along your skin to the hollow of your throat, causing a chill of pleasure to go down your spine.

Vergil's mouth presses against the hollow of your throat, his hands still kneading your hips through your shirt, and your back arches into him, his hips settling between your thighs once you do—causing an unbidden whimper to leave your mouth. The feel of his cock, even with the barriers of his pants and yours, makes you see fucking stars. His tongue laves along the hollow of your throat, and you whimper louder this time, your senses narrowed to his tongue moving over your skin. Your head falls back even more, baring pretty much all your neck to him. 

"You taste so much better than I ever fucking dreamed you would." Vergil murmurs onto your skin, pulling on it with his teeth. You moan now, your hips uncontrollably grinding against his—eliciting a soft groan from him, and that sound only adds to the throbbing between your thighs and the desire sparking in your blood. He dips his head a bit, nibbling on more skin of your neck, and every singular throb between your thighs feels like fucking torture. Your hands are aching to touch him, aching to feel his bare skin, his mouth, his fingers, his cock...

You tentatively put your hands on Vergil's shoulders, kind of digging your nails in when he drags his teeth on your skin. His hands hook into the bottom hem of your shirt, and your breath hitches. "Can I take this off?" he murmurs against your neck, and you nod. But his hands don't move, leaving you to rub your thighs together in a need for friction and some impatience. "I need to hear you say it, darling. I need you to use your words, okay?"

You take a fractured breath in, forming  some words as you fight through the lust fogging your mind right now. "Fuck yes. Please, Vergil. Please." you mumble, so wet you might soak through your pants altogether. "Thank fuck..." he murmurs, moving one hand up to the neckline of your shirt before tugging and ripping the cotton and polyester fabric clean down the middle.

You gasp at the cool air hitting your upper half—now, your bra's the only barrier. Vergil pulls away from your neck, his eyes glazing over as he looks at your bare skin. "So fucking beautiful..." he says as his hands land back onto your hips, kneading your skin. You whine, so turned on it's hard to think of anything else. He dips his head down, teeth grazing one of the edges of your bra. 

Your hands go from digging your nails into his shoulders to tangling in his short and slicked back silvery-white hair—it's so fucking soft, and it's thicker than it looks. A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat, and his hands continue to knead into your hips, but hands feel more like claws now. "Please tell me I can keep going." His teeth still graze the edge of your bra. 

"Don't—don't stop." 

Vergil's head moves a bit to the middle of your bra, and you could've sworn his canines are now fangs as he rips your bra in two with just his teeth. Your breath stutters as your upper half is fully exposed now, the throbbing between your thighs becoming so painful that you whimper a bit. His hands leave your hips and rise to cup your now bare breasts, your breath almost stopping altogether when you see the reverence in his eyes and his body language. You feel like a fucking goddess under his scrutiny, and when his hands creep up a bit, those almost-claws drawing circles on your skin, making you into the touch as lightning bolts of pleasure spread from where he's touching you.

Your hips rolls of their own accord again, a fractured moan slipping from your mouth as you feel his cock growing harder against you. You can't think, can't form words, because of the overwhelming pressure going through you right now. Vergil groans as you do that, his head dipping and his tongue teasingly tracing one of your nipples. And fuck, that feeling...You cry out this time, breath so shallow you off-handedly wonder how the fuck you're getting oxygen. 

One of his hands goes from cupping your breast to hooking into the hem of your pants, but you don't focus on that as he flicks his tongue over your nipple again, taking it into his mouth, teeth grazing the slightest bit—

You cry out again, this time mixed in with a moan, and your hips buck into him, whimpering at the way he feels against you, even if there is the barrier of clothes. "That's it, pretty girl." Vergil murmurs against your breast. "It's me who makes you feel like this." 

A moan is your only reply. He moves a bit, straddling you slightly, every thought eddying from your mind as he rolls his hips against yours, but unlike when you had done it, it's purposeful. 

He's teasing.

Vergil raises his head to whisper into your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it and triggering a needy shudder that wracks your body. "If I were to rip these pants off of you right now, how wet would I find you, sweetheart?"

Fucking soaking. 

You can barely decipher his words through your lust-fogged haze, and every part  of you is screaming, more, more, more, but you manage to choke out, "Play later."

Your voice is breathless, the need in it so abundantly clear, but you're too lost in the pleasure to notice or even care. Vergil dips his head and kisses the skin beneath your ear, causing another needy shudder. A promise and an unleashing. "I will, perfect girl. I will. But we have a couple other things to take care of, do we not?"

Right. He still has all his clothes on. Slipping your hands from his hair, you put them on either side of his dark gray trench coat with bright turquoise coloring. "Can I take this off?" you ask, surprised at how you can function right now. A nod from Vergil. "Please."

You make quick work of his coat, fabric sighing as it drops to the floor, revealing arms that you never were so fucking toned. Amazed, you run your hands down his arms, the smooth skin and taut muscle feeling so good to touch. You hear his breath hitch and you smirk to yourself. "Y/N." he murmurs, and you know what he means—stop gawking and get to the point before he spontaneously combusts. Taking a breath in, you reply with a quiet "Okay" before unzipping the high neck of his armored black and dark slate gray tank top, revealing his bare chest to you. Just as his coat had, it falls to the floor behind him, the metal making a faint clinking sound. 

But you're too focused on greedily inventorying the fucking masterpiece that is Vergil's chest. Abs that look like they've been hewn from stone in a mountain's cliff face, pecs that aren't too big but are still hot as hell...your gaze snags on a thin dusting of white hair that disappears beneath his pants and a very defined V-line that flows beneath his pants like his happy trail does.

The only thing that leaves your mouth is a breathless "Fuck". You reach for the top of his pants, but his hand lightly catches your wrist—those almost-claws tickling your skin. "I want to taste you first." he says, his voice that low, lush growl that makes that throbbing between your thighs even more unbearable. "I want to feel you come on my fingers and tongue."

You swallow as Vergil's other hand—the one hooked into the waistband of your pants—moves down, utilizing those almost-claws and shredding the fabric straight down the middle, like he did with your shirt. His hand lightly brushes the fabric of your panties now, nearly making your heart stop. 

"Turn around and spread your legs," he says quietly, his voice still having that growly quality—but also pure dominance. "And hold onto the back of the couch. You'll need it."

Sparks of more arousal rise in your blood as you hasten to do what Vergil tells you, and a satisfied hum from behind you has you knowing you did it right. "Good girl." he says, his hand hooking into the edge of your panties. Your breathing stutters at the praise, and you're sure he smirked at that reaction from you, even if you can't see his face. He doesn't move for a moment before asking, "Do you still want this? Because I don't think I'll be able to stop after—though I'll try my damndest to."

You ponder on it for a moment, the throbbing between your thighs growing as you do, before you reply with a simple, "Yes."

A low growl rumbles in Vergil's throat before you pulls on your panties hard enough to rip them off your frame, and your breath sharpens for a moment. "So fucking beautiful..." he murmurs, nudging your legs just a bit wider with his knee before sliding a finger inside your dripping pussy. Your hands tighten on the back of the couch, your knuckles going white as you bite on your tongue to keep from screaming in pleasure. 

Vergil adds a second finger, and your pussy walls clench around him, spasming at the pleasure of being filled as he picks up a pace, starting a sort of rhythm—pumping his fingers in and out, said fingers being knuckle-deep in you. You moan, hips rocking against his hand—

"That's it." he murmurs, his voice still having that low and growly tone to it. "Ride my hand, pretty girl."

And you do, your soft moans permeating the silence broken only by the squelching of his fingers pumping in and out. After an indeterminable amount of time, Vergil's fingers slip out of you, making an obscene sound between squelching and popping—but also eliciting a whine from you. You were so close, and he had to go and do that.

But that feeling of intense, world-shattering pleasure returns when he laps at you, tongue giving you short, teasing licks all the way up to your swollen clit. And when his mouth finds that sweet, sensitive bud between your legs, and sucks on it, your hands are gripping the back of the couch so hard that you might break a couple bones. You let out an involuntary scream, and Vergil's hand gently clamps over your mouth to muffle it. 

Then his fingers go back to where they were before, his tongue swirling in a figure eight as he sucks on your overly sensitive clit, and you're so, so fucking close—

But Vergil takes your clit out of his mouth for a moment, making you squirm. "I want you to do something for me," he says, voice hoarse, still having that dominating quality to it. "Sit on my face, darling." 

"W—What?" you stutter. While you'd be glad to do what he tells you, you've never...done what he's asking you to do. The hand Vergil had gently clamped over your mouth to muffle your scream drops to your jaw as he says, "Sit on my face, perfect girl. You can't do anything wrong."

You swallow, but his reassurance has you doing as he tells you to do, feeling a little out of your comfort zone, but doing it nonetheless. When Vergil taks your clit back into his mouth and his fingers fill you again, your hands ache and you moan your loudest so far—this position hits far deeper spots than the previous one did, even if it had hit pretty deep. 

A few more passes of his tongue and pumping of his fingers has your back arching, grinding against his face as you come, his name on your lips. Vergil laps up every last drop of your orgasm before releasing your clit with a groan and saying, "Your taste is going to drive me fucking insane." 

Too winded to even speak, your hands bracing the back of the couch are your only support. Vergil's hands lift your hips slightly—a way of supporting you, you realize—and he presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh before murmuring against your skin, "You did so fucking good, sweetheart."

Your breath skips at the praise, and when your post-orgasmic bliss subsides, you mumble an incoherent reply. You hear a hum of contemplation from him and his hands knead your hips as he silently thinks something over. "Turn around and spread your legs again for me." he says. You obey almost instantly—which should be embarrassing, but you're too turned on to care—and you hear a snarl of approval behind you. Buttons being unbuttoned and zipper being undone sounds from behind you, followed by the whisper of leather dropping and boots clacking onto the floor. 

You're instantly wet and throbbing again after thinking about what's going to happen, your juices slicking down your thighs. You feel Vergil's hand grip your ass and squeeze it slightly as he asks, "Ready?"

A nearly incoherent "Please" slips from your mouth, and once it does, his cock slides inside you, all the way to the base. He's bigger—and wider—than you thought he'd be, and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to him. You breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.

Now, this isn't your first time having sex, but you haven't done it for a while, and this is Vergil we're talking about here, for fuck's sake. You feel his lips graze along your spine as he murmurs, "You're so fucking tight." 

After that comment, he pulls out near to the tip and slides back into the base, which is really easy considering how soaked you are, making a moan leave your mouth. "Mine," he grunts, sounding like he's close to DTing. "My beautiful whore, taking my cock so well."

The praise mixed with degradation should sting, but instead it stokes the flames of your need, and you moan again. "You like this, pretty girl?" Vergil asks as he kisses your spine again, thrusting in and out. "You like when I pound into your sweet little cunt with my cock?"

Another moan, louder this time, is your only reply—more, more, more, until he pumps you full of his cum—

For a few blissful moments, there's only him and his rough thrusts before he stops. Your brow furrows a bit. "Why'd you stop?"

Vergil doesn't say anything, he just grabs your hips and positions the both of you so that he's on his back and you're straddling him, his cock inches away from your entrance. You can see his face now, and has a bit of a self-confident smirk on his mouth. Even if you don't have sex much, you can tell what that means. You sink onto his cock—it's deeper this time, and your moan occurs at the same time as his groan. 

His hands knead into your hips as you brace your hands on his muscled chest, moving up and down in a rough rhythm, moaning whenever his cock deeply hits in a sweet spot. You keep going, lost in the pleasure, riding Vergil into oblivion until he lifts his hips and his cock hits a spot that makes you come and sees stars at the same time—you let out a sound between a moan and a scream at the sensation. His orgasm comes right up on the heels of yours, and he lets out a long, low groan as he cums deep inside you, and your inner walls clench, milking it out.

When he pulls out, there's a small whine from you, but you can feel his cum dripping from your pussy, along with the juices from your own orgasm. You sit there on top of him, still dazed from post-orgasmic bliss, taking in air. You off-handedly wonder where your clothes are before remembering Vergil quite literally ripping them off of you earlier. 

He seems to have seen something in your face, because he raises his head and kisses the tip of your nose. "You okay?" he asks you, and his checking in brings a small smile to your face. "Yeah...just wondering what I'm gonna do since you ripped all my clothes right off."

Vergil winces a bit. "Sorry, I just...I wanted you so bad that I wasn't thinking straight. I still want you."

"I know," you murmur drowsily. "I do too."

You get off him and let him put his clothes back on, for some reason expecting him to leave you here naked since he'd gotten what he wanted from you. Fabric is draped around your shoulders, and you see Vergil kneel in front of you, fully dressed now, doing seemingly hidden buttons to protect your dignity. He further surprises you by picking you up bridal style as if you weigh nothing. He then presses his mouth to yours—an offer you immediately accept by kissing back—before he pulls away just enough for his mouth to graze yours as he talks. "I'd do anything for you. Kill, steal, lie, cheat...you name it, I'll do it, because you deserve the fucking world, my love."

You smile and reply with, "Same goes for you."

Vergil laughs softly and kisses you again before grabbing the Yamato—mostly forgotten in your guys' frenzy—and holds it one hand as he bridal carries you to his room.

#vergil dmc #vergil smut #dmc smut #i regret nothing #i wrote most of this at 2am forgive my shitty wording #ashs bullshit

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Incomplete list of changes I would make to mha if god gave me the ability to do so

So

Shinso is Midoriya’s main rival/foil among his classmates and actually gets a proper arc, Shigiraki can continue to be his villain rival

No Bakugo, he’s not plot relevant at all after the first episode. We will vaguely refer back to him in the final season with a shot of him staring at one of Deku’s battles from like a store or something but that’s it I want him gone

Female Shouto Todoroki

Also less in the whole Todoroki family arc about how sad Endeavour is that his family hates him for abusing them for their whole lives and more about the Todosibs complicated relationships with each other and Rei

No villains for the entire first season its just focused on UA, the competitive environment and how Izuku adapts to that and also his blossoming friendships

No Toga Ochako foil, there’s no reason for them to be foils sans ‘girl’. Idk develop that one gas villain (Mustard?) or whatever and have him be Ochako’s foil

Give Toga a proper character about self identity or whatever instead of just that love bullshit, idk she can foil someone else, I like villain hero foils but Ochako Toga was not it for me

The first villain the UA kids would fight is Stain. This isn’t just bc the Stain arc is one of my personal favorites, but I think it would be a cool transition between a mainly school focused 1st and partially 2nd season that would mainly worldbuild and get us into hero society and graducally exposing the flaws in that society. Given the LoV are basically just a bunch of people who are the result of the cracks in hero society I think it would be a nice seguway

Also Iida Tensi should actually be a corrupt hero.

Stain Iida parallels!!

Aizawa is actually forced to realize he’s a shitty teacher and has to undergo a character arc to be nicer to the people around him and realize that trauma does not make people stronger, it didn’t for him and it won’t for his students

Midnight is given development as a mentor and hero beyond boob jokes and dying

Also, like... if you want to make Mineta a character people don’t want to see die the second he’s on screen just have him gradually grow out of being so perverted?? Like a joke here or there is okay I guess but as the series goes on he should also get development lmao

Significantly more of 1A and 1B should be from hero families. Nepotism baybee.

More focus on some of the topics in heroism set up earlier in the series, like how heroes are paid based on who gets credit for taking down a villain and things like public image and charisma and how that allows for more corruption to fester

Either develop Aoyama more and make us care about him or make someone else (ie Ochako, refer back to my ‘why Ochako should have been the UA traitor post) the traitor who we actually care about

Keep Izuku analyzing quirks jesus fuck let him think instead of just be a plot device

More worldbuilding in general tbh

Let at least some of 1A ultimately become vigilantes after realizing the system is corrupt and made to benefit the people in power and heroes in this world are just functionally superpowered cops and that’s not the right type of system to see as morally infallible- *I am shot and killed by Horikoshi*

There’s more but I’m tired, please add at your wish

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia critical #my hero academia criticism #mha critical #mha criticism #bnha critical #bnha criticism #izuku midoriya #ochako uraraka #himiko toga #stain #iida tenya #iida tensi #shouto todoroki #todoroki family #shota aizawa #hitoshi shinsou #midnight mha #nemuri kayama #mineta minoru #anti bakugo katsuki #anti bakugo #bakugo katsuki #aoyama yuuga

[theenbynightingale]

My thoughts on TDI '23 Season 2

I'm just gonna make one big post about it because I wanna get all of this out of my system so I can focus on other things.

Okay, let me get my verdict out of the way. This season was... fine. It wasn't great but it wasn't bad. It's probably the most middle of the road season, IMO. My now former friend told me that he thought this was shaping up to be one of the best seasons when half the episodes were out. I didn't wanna label it yet because I didn't agree but I wanted to see them stick the landing. They didn't. So while I don't agree that the season went downhill, I agree that its ending wasn't very strong.

Okay, good stuff! MK and Julia friendship (and MKulia nation thriving). Loved that. I kept worried that they'd drop the ball but they never really did. They were a lot of fun and it was great seeing these two characters who outright rejected the idea of making friends grow close.

Nichelle getting better at the physical activities while not actually understanding that she had to have a social life on the island and therefore, not actually knowing how to play the game was funny.

Wayne and Raj. They're always great.

Less fart jokes. Though, it seemed like they were just saving it for the memory episode.

Owen and MacArthur cameos!

Bowie's inner conflict. I think that was a nice arc for him, especially after constantly playing dirty last season. It made sense and wasn't out of nowhere.

Zee being Zee. We love Zee. I wish we saw more of his pet raccoon.

A lot of the challenges were creative (Starting off with a Squid Game parody is very Total Drama) and a lot of the jokes were funny.

Okay, so... I can't talk too much about stuff I like without immediately following it up with "and then it kept going and it got old" so... let's get into that.

Usually, in TD, there's the writing hurdle of what to do with characters after they hook up. Usually, one of the characters leave the episode they hook up or the episode after. I admire this season for trying to break away from this formula but I think they just proved why the formula exists. Because if you keep the story going after they get together, you run the risk of it getting old. And it got old. Twice.

Ripaxel was funny... and then it got old. And gross. And then it was funny again. And then it got much worse and then they left. And then you wonder what the point of that was.

But then there's Caleb and Priya. I actually liked the story between them. And then it kept going. The moment in the memory challenge where they made up? That should have been it. The story should have been over and, as much as I love Priya, that's where she should have left. We didn't need to follow it up with another misunderstanding between them. Their story was run into the ground and it just wasn't worth caring about anymore.

There's a problem throughout the season that was evident when the very first episode leaked. After a whole season, it's revealed that Millie still doesn't listen to Priya. This is an example of the season's biggest problem: rehashing the last season.

Millie has to face the consequences of betraying her friends, breaking their trust and not putting forth a lot of effort in a challenge... again.

Zee gets eliminated because the campers somehow believed letting him in on a secret was a good idea... again.

Damien accidentally screws himself over... again.

Emma seemingly has an interesting story set up, only for it to be dropped as soon as it gets somewhere... again.

Priya grows close to someone only to reveal that they had less-than-flattering thoughts about her, only for that someone to realize how much they care about her, only for Priya to find out about the earlier stuff and a rift is formed between them... again.

Once MK is gone, Julia is the main villain... again.

So yeah. Not a bad season because nothing really upset me. I'd take it over All-Stars or PI (maybe even Action but idk). It had a lot of good stuff. But some of the good stuff either deescalated into a rehash of last season or was dragged out to the point where you stopped getting invested.

I liked Julia's hair. Mullets are terrible but she pulled it off. I'm serious. She's rocking it.

tl;dr Owen didn't age because he was never really stressed. He was the happiest of all the campers so that's why he still looks 16.

#total drama island #tdi 2023 #td caleb #td axel #td nichelle #td scary girl #td damien #td mk #td wayne #td raj #td ripp #td zee #td chase #td emma #td julia #td millie #td bowie #td priya

[insomniac-astronomer]

Nick Nelson x Reader: Bad Days

Welp I've read heartstopper twice now and got actually triggered by Charlie's ed. So yeah. That really sucks. It was helping my depression and loneliness till I wasn't eating. So. Here we are.

Fuck my brain, I hate it.

Literally wrote this after taking sleeping pills so idk how this turned out, gotta read it again later.

Description: Reader is having a really bad day with their ed, Nick helps.

Gender: neutral! no pronouns used

WARNINGS: talking about ed (not eating) in detail

NOT INTENDED TO ROMANTICIZE EDs. As heartstopper put it, love can't cure a mental illness. Additionally, YOU DO NOT WANT AN ED OR A MENTAL ILLNESS. They suck. Whatever picture you have painted of it, you don't see everything else.

I promise it's not worth triggering yourself to read this ❤️

*not my gif* UGH LOOK AT THAT BOI, MURDER ME

You feel mopey. Like, for some reason that's the only way to describe it. You've had an awful day. In health class, you had to list--in great detail--your body type versus your eating and exercising habits.

The hunger from lunch pangs nicely in your stomach. That feeling is familiar. The lightheadedness is almost comforting now.

You fight between the thoughts of "don't pass out," "this feel nice," "I'm being ridiculous," and "you don't deserve food."

You glance over at your best friend (and crush), Nick. He is focused on something on his phone. You glance back out of the window, torn between being happy he doesn't notice your unusual behavior and selfishly wanting him to see.

When the bus pulls up to the stop by Nick's house, you both step out. He gives you one of those smiles you adore as you both begin to head to his house.

Once in his bedroom, you flop dramatically onto the floor. You feel the air conditioning biting at your exposed arms.

"Its freezing in here!" You whine.

Nick laughs. "Here," something lands on the ground next to you. One of his hoodies.

You muster the energy to sit up and put it on, hugging the warmth and totally not his smell close to you.

He sits on the ground next to you.

"Want a snack?" He nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head. "I'm alright."

"Really?" He leans forward so he can see your face. "You didn't eat lunch."

You shrug. "Not hungry."

Nick sighs and a strained silence settles between you two.

"You know," he finally breaks the tension, "there's no one else here. No one will see if you eat anything."

"I'll see," you whisper. It's quiet enough you didn't think he would hear it, but he did.

"You deserve to eat something. Despite what your brain says."

For the first time since getting to his house, you look at him. "Since when do you know so much about I'm thinking?"

"Since I thought you might have an eating disorder." He looks away.

"Aw," it escapes. It sounds a little condescending in a way you didn't want. "I'm glad you care."

He takes you hands and you look at him, the light humor you had been holding on to disappearing.

"I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but I think you're very pretty and you can eat food if you need to. And you do need to. And you can always talk to me if you need."

For a moment, you focus on the floor, not sure how to respond. "Thanks," you whisper, throat blocked by tears.

"I'm gonna get you some food, okay?"

You feel a twinge of stress in your chest. "I just . . . can't today. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. I'm gonna get it anyway in case you want it."

You give him a little smile. Once he is gone, you feel a couple tears fall on your cheeks. You quickly wipe them away. You're greatful that he cares, no one's every really cared about you before. Like that. Like they really want to make you believe what they're saying.

Nick returns with a plate with some fruit on it. He sets the plate between the two of you. He pulls out his laptop and starts scouring for a movie to watch, mindlessly eating some grapes while he does so.

Your fingers twitch as you desperately want to take some fruit, too. You watch the way he doesn't think twice about anything he consumes and it almost comforts you for some reason. You take a strawberry and twist it in your hand for a moment, then you bite into it.

The sweetness fills your mouth, stronger than you've ever tasted due to your complete fasting in the last 12+ hours.

Nick must have noticed because he gives you a giant smile.

You smile back and reach for more food. Maybe it won't be so bad to eat tonight. Thanks to this dorky boy.

Thx for reading, don't steal. Go eat something my loves ❤️, Nick wants you to.

Buy me a coffee?

#nick nelson x reader #nick nelson #heartstopper #nick heartstopper #fanfictions #fanfic

[pyxaperson]

The new Fionna and Cake episodes are coming out in like an hour, but I just want to say that I don’t trust this dude. not in the fucking slightest.

(i'll leave my explanation under the read more because jfc this is almost 700 words)

First off, no. I strongly believe this version of Simon is not OUR Simon. Considering that I am certain these characters will appear in the newest batch of episodes, it will be far too early for Simon to obtain the crown and appear sane with it on. I think it is quite clear that this ice variant is connected to the big-haired Bonnie that we saw in the trailer. This universe is clearly a swapped one where the roles of PB and Ice King are switched - where PB takes up the role of the kidnapping antagonist while Ice King (or I assume Ice Prince in this case) would take the role of “damsel in distress” (or at least the dynamic PB and Ice King had in earlier seasons).

If that is the case, it would be safe to assume that these variants of Bonnie and Simon would also take up similar characteristics to their counterparts. I am sure some of Ice King’s inherent tragically will make its way to this PB, but I want to focus more on the characteristics that could be present in this Ice Prince.

Now I am not saying this to disrespect Bonnie, but she had dictatorial and manipulative tendencies during her reign as princess; mostly stemming from her responsibilities for running the Candy Kingdom. Her biggest flaw as an individual was how her concern and care for the people around her manifests into a need for control over them (at least that’s what I remember, I haven’t watched AT in its entirety in so long lmao, let me know if i am misremembering).

Leading back to the Ice Prince, I personally wouldn’t be surprised if these characteristics were present in his character mostly due to Bonnie and Simon having both gone through extreme measures to keep their loved ones safe even to their dismay.

Not to mention that Ice Prince is still wearing the crown. I personally doubt that the crown present in this university functions differently from the one present back at Ooo. Considering that the crown is presented in AT to be detrimental to its host, I believe that a similar torment is happening with the Ice Prince that occurred with Simon; just that its effect is handled differently here (or something idk). Despite that, the crown’s host always seems to be attached and protective of the crown - and considering that the Ice Prince’s powers probably come from it, I would imagine that he could have those same characteristics.

Tying these two ideas together, it has been established that the main trio set out to make Simon the Ice King again. To do so, they’ll need a variation of the crown meaning that it is possible that the group will be trying to steal the crown from the Ice Prince. If something like this were to happen in the show, considering the two previous points it could lead to the Ice Prince possibly acting as a combination of Bonnie’s and Ice King’s worst qualities.

Something like this (whether it happens in this fashion or not) would also be informative to both Fionna and Cake as it would show the crown’s destructive nature as well as lead them to the conclusion that letting Simon revert back to the Ice King is a bad idea. I feel like it could be more impactful on Fionna’s end as I would imagine this Ice Prince is closer to the version present in her dreams; thus giving her a clearer indication of what that character really is.

Not to mention that Fionna seems to be given an ice sword around the same time as the group enters that universe, which may be most likely a gift from the Ice Prince. This could possibly be a callback to the first Fionna and Cake episode in AT, where Ice Queen gifts Fionna an ice sword only to use it against her at the last minute.

Again, I am sure that none of what I just said means anything lmao. I am just having fun speculating. Hopefully, if you read all of this yabbering you got something from it.

#fionna and cake spoilers #at #adventure time #fionna and cake #idk if this means anything #but i have been thinking about it all day at work #anyway gotta wait now for the new eps to drop i guess

[theambitiouswoman]

hey,

idk if i should ask this but there's things really messed up for me and i really need some advice and get out of this.

*i always see many different kinds of posts about self improvement and self care and after seeing that i make many goals for myself that i will implement all of these. But i just dont know how to do these and how to start and what to start i just want to do all of the things in one day which i will never do.

*i am a high school student, this is my last year of school and also it is really important and this is the only very long vacation i got and i am very weak in studies also i have very less knowledge about many things (like i am just dumb?). My school is gng to reopen on 28 august and when my school is closed i planned various things that i will improve to do to improve myself and become a completely different person (like have a glow up). But i did nthng for like whole one month and just watched kdramas and stuff. i also have many things to study and complete stuffs.

*i jst dnt knw hw to do like planning and stuffs and do my works according to it. bcz i tried making notion templates regarding everything and do all the stuffs in one day and bcm a wonder women in one day but i did nthng. and then i deleted my whole notion page bcz i jst dk hw to do. i also tried bullet journaling that didn't work s well. i jst dk wht do everything is jst messed up.

*also i feel so embarrassing talking to someone verbally in english bcz idk i jst start saying nonsense words like i realy dk hw to speak english even though I've been speaking since i was 4.

*i am just struggling with all the aspects of my life. and idk hw to just start.

*also like i jst be scared to talk to someone or even speaking in class or anything i jst stand there being embarrased and getting weird looks from everyone in my class. no one even asks me anything bcz they know tht idk anything and everyone looks down at me like my own parents too.

*and my sleep schedule is also a mess rn. and like the whole day i jst keep making fake scenarios in my mind tht i dnt feel like i am in the prsent my brain jst gets numb and i dnt feel any thing in the present its jst like yea the prsenet is somewht gng on but i hv no idea wht is gng on i jst forget everything. this is gng on since many years. evn at school i jst dont listn to any lecturs bcz of this. i think my thinkinh capabilities has also gone. i jst forget things very easily.

*i wanna workout to remove my leg fat but i end up planning many thiings in one day like focusing my whole body this and that and then i give up that toooo.

i hope i get a reply from you :(

Hey! Just saw this part of your question.

I get what you're going through. You want to make things better, but you're not sure where to start.

If planning tools like Notion or bullet journaling don't work for you, that's fine. Try making a list or using your phone's notes section. That's what I do.

When it comes to talking in English, it's okay if you feel scared or mess up sometimes. You're being tough on yourself and caring too much about what others might say. This is something many people go through. But let's shift our attention away from others and focus on how you can handle this feeling of not being sure about yourself.

Are you truly putting effort into improving yourself, or do you give up as soon as things get tough? This matters a lot because you need to make a real commitment. If not, you'll just keep going around in circles of negativity. If you want to exercise, then go ahead and exercise. What is stopping you? Think about it? Just yourself. That is quite literally it.

If your sleep schedule is messed up and you feel disconnected, try setting a routine for sleep and doing things that help you stay present, like meditation or going for a walk.

I can tell you're feeling pretty down and everything seems gloomy right now. I understand, and it's not a good feeling. But there will come a time, and it looks like you're getting there, when you'll need to stand up and take charge of your life again.

If you really want to work on all of these things, you need to cut/stop doing all of the negative things you are doing now and only focusing on the version of you that you want to identify with. Change might feel tough, but staying stuck in one place is tough too. You get to pick which kind of tough you want to deal with.

I am going to teach you right now what you need to do if you really do want to work on yourself.

Write down things that make you feel not so good that you want to change.

Next to each item, write down how you can make these things better. For example, if you're not exercising enough, you could start taking short walks every day.

Forget the old version of you exists. Imagine you used to eat a lot of junk food and that made you feel tired. Decide that you won't go back to eating junk food even when you feel like it. You need to really have a vision for yourself and who you want to be. This is important because it will be how you motivate yourself.

Keep finding new ways to make your situation better. If you're trying to be more social, maybe you could join a club or group where you can meet new people.

Exercise and incorporate more healthy meals into your diet. Exercising will not only make you feel good but it will also help you look good.

Take care of your appearance. When you look good you feel good and vice versa. You will become more motivated and confident.

Stop procrastinating. Set realistic and achievable goals. This will help you boost your confidence as well as increase your levels of productivity and discipline.

Get hobbies. Learn new things, figure out your passions and pursue them. Live a life of purpose so you don't continue to feel like you are just floating through life.

Avoid negative content or really anything that no longer aligns with the version of you that you want to be. You want to change your life? You want to be a different version of yourself? What does that person look like? How do they act? What do they do? Your whole life should be consumed with those examples and those examples ONLY.

Learn a new skill and practice it daily. This will help you grow as a person. Develop critical thinking skills. You learn new things and become smarter. It will make life more interesting and exciting for you.

Keep promises to yourself. If you don't take care of yourself, who will? People will treat you how you treat yourself.

REPLACE NEGATIVE THOUGHTS WITH POSITIVE ONES. Pay attention to how you talk to yourself because you are listening and your mind is normalizing these ideas.

By doing these things, you can feel better, be more confident, do well in your tasks, try new stuff, have good relationships, make good choices, stay positive, and be someone others trust. It helps you have a happy life where you learn and grow while being kind to yourself and others around you <3

[curiousitycollective]

I've been questioning on and off since i think, 2020? 2021? if im plural or not. At first i decided that no im not, because i dont have did/osdd/etc and I wasnt open to the idea of any other form of plurality bc it was always looked down upon. I stopped thinking about it for a while but more recently I've been having trains of thoughts that dont really feel like they belong to me: im not sure how to explain it, its not a voice, feels more like a thought that was placed into my mind but doesn't belong to *me*; but then i was thinking maybe im just personifying my intrusive thoughts etc + i have a history of experiencing paranoia/delusions too so, yk

We dont really switch either. I space out a lot (i do dissociate, im just quite confident i dont have any form of disordered plurality) and it occasionally it *feels* like im not in control but I know I still am. The most "out of control" i've felt was doing something and feeling that it was *influenced* by someone else, but not actually done by them. A lot of the things I thought were alters (back in 2021) were also more fragments of myself, I would say (minus one guy who's more distinct, but idk if im just making all of that up.)

I'm not asking you to tell me "yes, you are definitely plural" or "no definitely not" of course, I'm just wondering if there's any input or anything you could direct me with or anything ? ^^;

first sorry if you have been waiting on a reply, tumblr apparently isn't showing us notifications for asks anymore. Also our answer will be above the read more, and we'll stick some resources, blogs, ect under that we think might be helpful.

So a few things, starting with some general stuff for when you're questioning things plural and otherwise.

On the "am I making this up or not?" we encourage anyone whose questioning to distinguish between "making something up/faking it" and misinterpreting things when looking at their experiences.

If you aren't purposely forcing things or consciously creating them then you aren't making something up, you can misinterpret one thing as another but if you aren't trying to do something then you aren't making it up, making something up/faking it is a conscious choice.

We also encourage anyone questioning anything to worry less about "am I right about this lable?" and focus more on "does this label help me/make my life easier/explain things to me?" It takes the pressure off about being wrong and focusses on what the thing means to you specifically.

If you decide to identify as plural and find that no, this doesn't actually fit there's nothing wrong with going "nope not actually me" and continuing on with your journey.

We've gone through many different sets of identities and pronouns before we found what fits, because often the only way to know is to see if it works. The importance thing is to make sure that whatever you choose fits you, instead of you forcing yourself to fit it.

We definitely recommend journaling or doing some sort of tracking to see how you feel about different things over time. Honestly a small notebook you keep in your pocket and jot down any stray thoughts or influences would probably be a great start.

Its actually something we did when trying to sort out the influence of ocd from schizospec from plural. It can help you see patterns over time that would otherwise be really hard to spot and also having an external record helps avoid a lot of the pitfalls of human memory

Onto the more plural related stuff. So one thing to note is that its not at all uncommon to not directly hear anything or feel others beyond stray thoughts and feeling influences especially with plurals who aren't fully aware of being plural yet.

Internal communication often takes time and practice in order to become reliable. Its not something that you'll regularly see in plural communities online because by their nature most have some degree of awareness and internal communication, otherwise they wouldn't have sought out the community but it is completely normal.

Feeling like others in brain are versions of you, or fragments also is not uncommon. Its another experience that doesn't get spoken of on here but its one many have, smile/Wren/Ghost are some of our oldest members and started as alternate versions of each other before becoming more individual. Some find that as members become more aware and communicate improves members become more differentiated some stay the same, either way its not an unknown or weird experience.

One thing we highly recommend for you is looking into the median community and their experiences. Median falls under the plural umbrella but covers those who feel their system is less differentiated/closer to singlet.

Okay this is already huge and I think we hit on most points but please feel free to ask follow ups about anything we've said

- Everyone

Blogs

@median-culture-is

@multiplicity-positivity

@inclusiveplurality

@pluralpolls <— good for getting an idea of different experiences in the community

We'll also add our #accounts and narratives tag to this post, not everything is plural but its our tag for collecting different experiences so there's probably some stuff there that's useful

#plural stuff #questioning #collective chatter #accounts and narratives

[starry-mist]

Okay so, as I can’t recall if I’ve delved into the mind of Season 6 Charlie here or if I’ve just posted it elsewhere, this might be repetitive or it might be brand new. (Yeah, my memory suckssss.)

Anyhoo. So in looking at what little we’ve seen of s6, and given they’ve basically all been filler episodes so far, definitely take all of this with a grain of salt. It requires a bit more continuity than we’re used to with this show, and I know we like to expect things from the writers that they rarely deliver on, but bear with me.

I think in s6, with its apparent shift in focus away from Team As Family and back to All Charlie All The Time (thanks I hate it) we’re potentially going to learn a bit more about other aspects of his character than we have previously. For instance: what’s the deal with his dad? Why have we suddenly gone from his referencing what sounded like a happy family (though to be fair, they’ve really not been mentioned that much) to this apparent friction with his dad over some kind of tension between his dad and his brother? I feel like they could potentially be setting up more of his family appearing this season, but also, as a friend helpfully pointed out, they seem to be wrapping up each episode as a stand-alone, so I could be way off base.

With regards to Charah, and Charlie’s hesitation with meeting more of Sarah’s extended family: Let’s assume that Charlie hasn’t had a ton of meaningful romantic relationships. He married young, so in theory Julia was likely his last “meet the family” experience. We know (though the writers may have forgotten) that he’s met Sarah’s parents before they were in a relationship, but meeting the extended family likely feels like a much bigger step. So the hesitancy makes some sense.

And this leads us to where Charah are at this point in time. They’re past the honeymoon phase, but they also seem to have pulled back a little relationship-wise (or they haven’t and the showrunners just decided to appease the haters, but that’s a whole other theory.) She’s taking classes, so she’s a little more busy, and he’s…randomly working on his motorcycle? Whatever, let’s just assume that was a throwaway to set up the bike stunt, IDK, I was too busy disliking the episode to pay much attention. But at any rate: while they’re clearly making time to spend with each other (lunches, dinners that we never see,) they seem to have hit pause on the depth they had in s5 (again, I’m basing this on all of two episodes, so there is a decent chance I’m wrong and this is just the general shitty continuity again.) Sarah’s got her school thing going on, she’s perpetually career-driven, so there’s that keeping her occupied and maybe making less space for her personal life.

Charlie, on the other hand…I think (and it was touched on briefly in 604, and dammit, I wish they’d give us more than throwaway lines as to his mental state) he’s worried about measuring up when it comes to Sarah. Which is a bit strange, because he’s a success in his own right, but is he potentially comparing himself to her in terms of her higher education and feeling like he’s not on her level? I mean, that’s one option (and it’s kind of a silly idea, because we all know he’s brilliant as well.)

But also: he’s at a point he’s maybe been at once before in his life, which is him considering what the future holds for this relationship. And I think he’s likely scared. He’s been burned, and his character arc for the past five seasons has been getting over the divorce and opening himself up to love again. So now he’s at that point where maybe he’s considering taking the next step with Sarah, but he’s terrified (and it’s not rational, but emotional reasoning rarely is) because he’s been burned by love and perhaps in the back of his mind he’s worried that it could happen again. Even though it shouldn’t be a worry, and they’ll eventually have their happily ever after because that’s clearly where they’re headed, I could see him having a bit of self-doubt when it comes to really committing long term. It’s something he would really wrestle with, because he knows he’s found his One, but emotional baggage can rear its ugly head at any given time.

I think this season’s arc (assuming one exists) is going to be Charlie letting go of any of that possible self-doubt, realizing he’s ready to take that next step, and really just solidifying that he’s built this life of his own after his divorce. I also think there are allusions being made to him settling down and “finding home” in the sense of perhaps officially moving in with Sarah (real estate seems to be the only theme I’ve managed to pick out so far in s6) and maybe (big maybe) we end the season with a proposal.

I do still think there is an obvious parallel between Sarah going back to school and Julia having done the same once upon a time, which was the beginning of the end for their marriage. And I do think, based on that, there is a potential for some rocky bits to come. But, I repeat, they suck at continuity so it might never be mentioned again and the school thing is just to slot Sarah into that psychologist role and we’re not meant to think more deeply about it. (We will though. Dammit, writers, throw us a bone here.)

Anyway, for the rest of the season, I look forward to the usual format which should give us a solid Sarah episode, a Joe episode or two, a couple of Jesse episodes, and my favourite “Charlie and Sarah isolated somewhere” trope, wherein some of what has turned into basically my rambling essay on the mind of Charlie Hudson (help) might actually play out. And I hope that what we’ve seen so far has just been a rocky start, and there are some really decent episodes to come.

Okay well…that was a novel. I’m so sorry. 🤣

#hudson & rex #charah #charlie hudson x sarah truong #charlie hudson #starry speculates #season 6

[suffarustuffaru]

👀 & 🥺 & ❌

i also answered ❌ in another ask so ill do the other two asks here :O !!

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

OOH ok i. i have two more pride if wips other than my current pride if otto multichap. and i really wanna finish all of them. one of them is a pride if reinhard fic and the other is. you know it was just supposed to be unhinged and incredibly cringe pride if ottosuba smut wrapped up in a small oneshot but now its unhinged and incredibly cringe pride if ottosuba smut with Probably A Little Too Much Plot and it probably wont be a small oneshot. oops 😳 every time…. EVERY TIME… i write smut i keep making it cringe on purpose. im so sorry i cant write anything genuinely sexy it just comes out cringe bc i find it entertaining to write sjdndn (for additional context i am ace ☝️i might write fluffy smut someday though akdnsns bc i DO love sweet smut <3)

ANYWAY the pride if reinhard fic. its planned to be a twoshot atm thats just going through the most important events of poor pride if reinhard’s life. and by important events i mean All the loved ones reinhard lost and then the entire country being set on fire 😭😭 idk if any fic has been made yet focusing on how reinhard like. gradually feels hatred and anger for the first time towards pride if subaru for Doing All That but id like to focus on that yes!! like its a Very big deal. and also i wanted to give joshua a cameo bc well. the dude Already despises reinhard regularly. the moment he finds out julius and ana brutally died and reinhard is Likely half of the reason why they died (the other half being to put emilia on the throne)…… anyway joshuas gonna be very upset with reinhard thats for sure!! ..and also this fic Might need a dead dove tag. totally not for reasons.

🥺Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

EVERYTHING. but more specifically writing breaking points and the buildup to them 😭😭 the aftermath too!! like. even more specifically i love when the cards are Really stacked against characters and so they change for the worst. that gets me every time. they change so much that theyre like the trope where someone Comes Back Wrong and then they hit some sort of breaking point where hes Abundantly clear that theyre not the same anymore. if you get what i mean hah. but i love when suddenly everyone close to them has to confront this fact!! that theyre not the same anymore!! how will they all move forward from here?? bc change can be good or bad and its what you make of it…. will the character get worse or get better in the future??? idk i just love the angst of it all T^T the bittersweetness T^T having to confront the person you were and the person you Are and that even while theres differences theres still similarities to your past self…. which is probably why i like gluttony if and subaru a lot hah (on top of. heinkel……. if otto……..). like having to confront that this person you know and love is Different now….. that the love you shared with this person is Now gone and just a faint memory…. that stuff hits fr T^T like the baggage… the history… things wont ever be the same… that kind of feeling, you know?? and also additionally i love that quote from undertale that goes “despite everything youre still you”. yeah. yeah. 🤌 i like how this kind of development is so. its got Despair but if you so choose it there can be hope too….

#ask #and wkdndnd my answer to the second question is also why i find heinkel and rein’s relationship so fascinating #bc they Both think the others changed. and they dont recognize the other person as the same one they knew before when things were good. u #know?? sobbing and crying over them :((( #and pride and wrath if otto is so different from main route that its Jarring. in a depressing way :(( and if gluttony if otto had survived #he wouldve gone insane. he never wouldve been the same ever again after subaru did all of that. #i always think about how subaru killed Two of ottos little brothers in the if. regin. and garfiel.

[talkingtea]

I'm honestly kind of prefer Candice's radio silence to GG's overactivity--I mean it's not the best outcome for our leads for the final season but every time GG does something I feel like my blood pressure goes up, while at least with Candice I have some peace. Sides she did what she could for a bit and the stuff on Brandon's stream with Nicole is super cute and fun. Anyways I hope she's resting, recuperating, and taking some time to focus on herself to recharge. Honestly at a certain point they're both messy (and part of me is like--is this a cry for help because they are both not handling this well)--but idk I keep reminding myself they are human beings (okay I admittedly do this more for CP then GG lol), and she's gone through a lot and that trauma takes a lot of time to heal and isn't going to be instant.

So I hope she's getting help and/or healing and while I'm disappointed with her situationship I think she's allowed to be human and make mistakes and it's not about the mistakes she's made but how she comes back stronger--like I'm not defending her actions but at the same time I'm not here to reinforce a self-fulfilling prophecy that she made the wrong choice and her life is over.

I'm more like, its the wrong choice, I don't agree but come back and do better and show people that even if we fuck up we can all rise--I think that's an equally strong example for a role model to set? It's not about the mistakes me make, its how we go moving forward? IDK i'm feeling sappy. To quote Octavia Butler: "In order to rise from it's own ashes, a phoenix must first burn"

While we appreciate the optimism when is the bounce back/raise from the ashes thing is supposed to happen? Because for most people managing to come out of it most unscathed the first time around would have been enough for them to thank their lucky stars and put that mess behind them. For others it would have been the cheating. Now we’ve moved on to the manipulative and verbally and emotionally abusive stage of things and that’s just what we see on social media. So when is enough enough?

[hidinginthespicecabinet]

Okay, this is the continuation of my last post. 

I know many people believe that the addition of the boys this season ruined the show BUT I think it was necessary to move the plot forward and to add solid reasoning to the Dawn of Eden experiment. So, here are my pointless thoughts on the boys: 

THE BOYS

1. To begin, one character that I wanted to know more about was Bo. I didn’t love Scotty; he just fell flat for me. But with Bo, he has this inherit goodness in him that was wasted this season. I felt that although he wasn’t the most present character he was needed in a way. It kinda upset me that his home life was implied but it wasn’t explored, same thing with Scotty. Everything was mentioned indirectly. I think Bo breaking away from the clean confines of his home is such an interesting arc especially when he would fall back on old habits. He was so attached to Scotty that we didn’t see him interact enough with other character. Unlike Marty and Toni in season 1, they didn’t branch out which I think was purposeful to show how the boys were already failing at building genuine community. 

2. Raf’s character really disappointed me. I could see that they were building him to be a parallel to Leah but they dropped that with S*th’s arc. You could see that Raf is a good kid with severe codependency issues. He even mentioned it himself. It was shown again with his inability to fully believe Josh because he had found so much comfort and security in S*th. I think it ties back to his lack of confidence in his own identity and life. As a immigrant, I can see where he comes from because it was easy to stick to someone who represented what you wanted to be and emulate them. Raf got confidence from S*th. Although I strongly disliked him most season, he came to his senses towards the end by beating the shit out S*th, like he deserved. I hope to see some character development for him. (He was def fruity for S*th)

3. Henry! Okay, so I know his character is not explored too much, but I love him. Maybe it’s just because he’s emo but we will ignore and focus on more developed analysis. His character works in tandem with S*th and serves to develop S*th’s disgusting behavior. When S*th tried to drown Henry, Henry quickly accepted S*th’s reasoning and even apologized himself, which leads me to believe that Henry was accustomed to this manipulation at home. The extremity of the situation was new but the attitude wasn’t. Henry shows quiet resistance in my opinion, and he also helps the group survive even if his rhetoric is bleak. When he finally snapped and realized S*th’s true colors, he was extremely disheartened, not only because his stepbrother was a monster, but because all his mother’s attention had gone to such an underserving person. Both of them has mommy issues that have manifested in different ways. I just want to see more of my emo boy.

4. Ivan. Ivan. Ivan. I have a lot of mixed opinions about him. I think we got the most fleshed out backstory for him, which is important because it helps shine a light on his behaviors. First, I understand where all his anger comes from and his story is one common nowadays. I think its important to focus on the fact that he tends to see everyone as an enemy. He set up his emotional boundaries without seeing his surroundings and analyzing the situation properly (the scandal with Kirin). Yet, we can see him trying to change that behavior when he goes over to S*th’s camp. He tries to do the right thing by not letting an abuser and co. die. I understand where he comes from but I think he’s also being selfish. He doesn’t want to carry the guilt of S*th’s death, like how he carries the guilt of Kirin’s expulsion. The dollar bill is an important manifestation of this because it reminds him to “be tender” instead of on guard all the time. Ivan is definitely one of the most complex characters of the bunch and idk I have high hopes for him, even if I don’t agree with many of his actions. 

5. Now, to the nitty and gritty. S*th is a truly disgusting character with severe issues that manifest in physical and sexual violence. I went in expecting him to be a good, stable character but after seeing him interact with everyone, I knew something was off about him. He is extremely skilled at manipulating people and getting what he needs from them, which makes him an interesting villian. Also, his character brings a dynamic that wasn’t explored with the girls: the evil within the group. The girls all have flaws but they all come together and never do anything truly malicious against each other. Yet, S*th violated Josh and then, manipulated the group to discredit anything Josh would say. He picked Josh because he appeared to be the weakest of the group and was there. S*th was a manifestation of all of Josh’s worries because all he wanted was to be accepted and even that was used as a weapon against him. Another thing that I’m wondering is if S*th was picked as the operative on purpose. The lady (i forget her name bc i hate her) knew his issues and still picked him. Did she sabotage that group on purpose to prove herself to be right? It would be an interesting twist. I hope S*th dies, truly. I was screaming at the screen. 

6. KIRIN! wow. Way to subvert stereotypes. I think he was the most effective character out of all of them. He gets to the island and all his actions prove that he’s an asshole and that he fits into the mold of idiot jock. That’s all reinforced with the clap and how he steals instead of asks because he is embarrassed. I was ready to despise him until the scene with Josh. I love that once Josh had that visceral reaction at S*th’s statements, Kirin immediately asks Josh what S*th did instead of dismissing his anger. Kirin has no hesitation in believing Josh even when Josh is so unsure about the validity of his claims. He actually hears and sees Josh instead of pushing his worries to the side like everyone else does. His violent outburst towards S*th just proves his disgust towards that abuser. He becomes Josh’s number 1 supporter even when others are hesitant. His personality doesn’t lose intensity, though, and because of this, I think we see him trying to stay strong for Josh, who begins to emulate Kirin. Josh is not weak and does not want to be seen as weak, and he thinks the one way to do this is to become “strong” like Kirin. Towards the end, Kirin shuts down when S*th is exiled the second time. That moment of weakness is crucial to show that he is actually really emotional and that macho personality is a front for a plethora of emotional trauma. It’s all seen in the flashback when Ivan taunted Kirin. They were both wrong in that scenario. Yet, it showcased how Kirin doesn’t have a stable home life and relies on others, like his coach and Josh, to be seen and needed. 

7. One last thing... I think that they are building Kirin and Ivan to have a romantic subplot. I see it. An enemies to lovers thing. Their goodbye was tender, don’t lie to me. WE WILL SEE. 

Well, I think the boys weren’t as effective as the girls because most of them lacked story and development. There needed to be more time allotted to explaining their characters more and there wasn’t enough screen time for them to build real on camera chemistry. I understand that if more time was given, the girls would be even more underrepresented but maybe (don’t hate me), this season could’ve solely focused on the boys and they could’ve released another season finishing the girls island plot to transition to the mixed season. THE ONE THING I NEED FOR SEASON 3 IS NO LOVE TRIANGLES. The boys better not ruin the bonds the girls have made. They should all just be gay. Problem solved! 

That’s it for now.

#the wilds #the wilds season 2 #the boys #kirin #josh #bo #it couldve been worse #henry tanaka #waiting for season 3 #ahahahh #gayyyy