#Been thinking about this a lot since my pain has been amplified the past week -- spring break woe :(

[kodii-ak]

Pain

A comic about my chronic pain experience.

[iwadori]

Hiiii!!!! can you do like when you guys are supposed to meet up and they waited for about an hour or so and kept texting you you but you haven't replied so they thought you ditched them and got mad at you and stuff then they decided to go home and while on their way home not too far from their school they found you unconscious body with a large wound on you back and your head bleeding?.

can you pleaseease do tsukishima, yamaguchi, ushijima, bokuto (I'm sorry if that's a lot)

Haikyu Boys when you get hurt Pt 2 (Ushijima,Bokuto

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word count: 2.6K

Genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

Ushijima

You were having the worst week this week,  from battling a cold and your boss making you do all sorts of extra jobs (that were definitely not under your job description.) As easter was swiftly approaching you and Ushijima had your annual plans of going to the local kids community center and helping them with an easter egg hunt. But you don’t think you can manage it this year.

Ushijima gets home from practice with 4 bags just filled with easter eggs ranging from all different sizes, “woah there Toshi, you’ve got enough there too feed all of england” you laugh  

“I don’t think these eggs will be able to sustain England Y/N” he says seriously making you laugh even harder. As you were laughing, you felt another migraine come along making your cringe in pain. “Toshi, I don’t think I can do the easter egg hunt this year?”  

He sits down next to you alarmed that something is wrong, “why what happened Y/N” he asks

“I’ve been feeling terrible all week, and I even have a migraine right now” you say to him thinking he would understand.

“That’s it?” he questions thinking what you said was a joke “I think you can handle a migraine, remember we’re doing this for the kids”

His words were making you feel slightly guilty since maybe you were being over dramatic. “Y/N if it’s really ‘that bad’, i’ll make you some tea so you can feel better,” he says going into the kitchen to start on your tea. You murmur a quiet “thank you” and you end up falling asleep, hoping that by the time you wake up your head stops pounding.

As you wake up, you realise you slept all the way through the night and over to the next day as when you look at your clock it says 12:32 pm. You look at your nightstand and saw that Ushijima wrote you a note saying:  

Y/N I've left out early to set out the easter egg hunt, I’ve made you breakfast so eat up and get prepared for the event which starts at 4pm. Please don’t forget.

Sincerely – Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You chuckle at the fondness of the note, before realising your pain. Your brain felt like it was having a live concert inside that definitely was not going to end soon but you still got up prepared for the day. You didn’t want to let Ushijima or the kids down.  

When you go to the kitchen , you see the cute breakfast that Ushijima made you consisting of all of your favourite foods and with another simple note of him saying ‘ I love you. ‘ Ushijima has always been a lovely boyfriend, treating you like the queen you are always making sure that you were okay. Of course, his bluntness and his lack of social cues was something to get used to but when you did get accustomed to it, it only made you fall in love with him more.

You got ready, feeling even more sick as the piping hot shower that you usual have, did not help as when you were showering you felt heavily faint. However, you persevered since you did not want to let Ushijima down.

You finally were prepared to leave the house, with the community center being on 15 minutes walk away you were leaving out at 3:50pm since you were planning to take your car anyways. When you leave your home, you realise that you forgot your car keys so you dash up the stairs (a bit too quickly) to go and find them. Scrambling through your draws, your head is pounding harder and harder and the more it pounds the quicker your moving making you even more faint. You eventually find your keys and you’re ready to zoom to the community center but your body gave out and you pass out tumbling down the stairs landing at your front door.

Ushijima was waiting outside of the community center waiting for you to arrive it was 4:05pm and he was wondering where you were (knowing that your place was only a 10 minute drive away) he sent you a few texts asking where you were but when you don’t respond Ushijima becomes slightly annoyed, plastering a fake smile on his face and entering the community center, starting the easter egg hunt.

The easter egg hunt came to a close at 8pm and Ushijima assumed that you would’ve showed up some time in the middle of the event, but you obviously didn’t show. After making sure that all the kids left safely Ushijima decided to call and text you more and when you continuously don’t respond and your calls go to voicemail he says ‘Y/N, im really disappointed with you right now. How could you do this to me? You said you would show up, the kids were really upset, how could you be so selfish?’

He walks to your house knocking on the door, but when you don’t immediately answer he knew something must be up now, since you haven’t responded to any of his texts and calls and didn’t show up he figured there was something deeper then you just ditching the event.

He used his key to open the door, surprised when the door hit something. He tried again hitting the ‘object’ that was laying at the door again. He carefully pushes the door to make enough room for him to fit through the gap. When he entered, he was startled at the sight of you, there you lay completely knocked out with a blood stain next to your head. He knelt down next to you and touched your cheek you were extremely cold, he had to get you to a hospital stat. He called an ambulance, panicked. Worrying about how long you’ve been out for since it would have to be atleast more than 4 hours he assumed.

You woke up in a foreign room, with your head slightly stinging. You place your hand on the back of your head and wince, then you remember you need to be at the easter egg hunt so you bolt up ready to move.  

“I don’t think that’s wise for you to do that Y/N” Ushijima says to you  

“Toshi, what happened?” you ask still in pain

“It seems you fell down the stairs and hit your head” after he said that all your memories come flooding back, and you remember rushing to the community centre, looking for your keys, and then falling down the stairs and everything going black.

“I’m sorry Ushi for missing the easter egg hunt, I really tried to get there,” you say with an apologetic look on your face  

“It’s fine Y/N of course you wouldn’t of been able to get there after falling down the stairs” he says “Also, this is proof of why you shouldn’t run down the stairs”

You eventually get discharged with the doctor telling you all you need to do is rest and stay off your feet. Ushijima took the doctor's orders very seriously, becoming your loyal servant and waiting on you hand and foot, tending to your every need. He did also make you were eating healthy and taking all your medicine so you could have the best recovery possible.  

Also, after realising that this could’ve all been avoided if Ushijima didn’t guilt trip you in the first place for having a migraine, he made sure to never ignore or dismiss when you say you are ill or have anything wrong with you even if it’s a migraine, a lost limb or a simple paper cut.

Bokuto  

The Olympics were coming up and Bokuto couldn’t be any more excited than he already was. Everything he’s talked about for the past month he manages to find a way to relate to the Olympics, and as annoying as it got sometimes you were just as excited for it as much as Bokuto was.  

Bokuto was heavily busy with extra practices so you were bored and lonely, since your boyfriend was at practice all the time so you chose to take up a new hobby. You decided to paint, although you weren’t an award-winning painter you still found joy in it. Being Bokuto’s girlfriend you had some slight unwanted attention on you: the usual fans of Bokuto that just followed you to have an extra aspect of him in their life's, or his fangirls that adored him.  

You didn’t mind the fangirls for the most part since majority of them were pretty tamed and did fawn over your relationship. However, there was the minority of fans that did make it known to you that they DID NOT like you at all. When you started posting your paintings, it seems their hate for you amplified since they always found the need to leave an astray of mean comments on your post. But that didn’t mainly bother you since you thought that they only had that energy behind the screen.

The days went by getting closer to the Olympics, with Bokuto always asking you every day “Y/N you are coming to my games, right?” to which you always replied “Of course Kou, I’m coming” which always made him smile.

When the Olympics came, you’ve went to all the games cheering Bokuto and the team on as they were winning round after round. Whilst this was going on, the group of girls that were sending you horrible messages and making mean posts about you weren’t stopping. At first, you didn’t care for them but it seems their posts only gotten worse making comments about your artwork, your face, your body type ect.  

You didn’t want to tell Bokuto as you felt that it would ruin his Olympic momentum and you thought you could handle it all on your own.  

It was nearing to the final game of the Olympics, and Bokuto was ecstatic he made sure that you promised you’d be there claiming that you was his ‘good luck’ charm.’ You were excited to go too, the feeling of watching Bokuto play was exhilarating seeing him fully in his element was great for you to see.

On the last game day, Boktuo was already at the stadium since him and the team had to be there earlier to practice and you planned to meet him there just before the game started at 4:30. You went to a florist before the match getting Bokuto the biggest boquet that you could buy.  

On your way to the stadium you here somebody whistle from behind you, you turn around and see a group of girls waiting behind you smirking. “Hi?” you say more like a question then a statement “do you want something from me?”

Some of them laugh, but the one standing at the front who you mentally lable the ‘main one’ steps closer to you and says “We want you to stay away from Bokuto” you realise that these were the girls sending you hate online for these past weeks.

Before you can even blink, the girls jump you, hitting, kicking and clawing at you. You are in pain, screaming and crying for them to stop and leave you alone. You lay there, letting them beat you up thinking that you’ll probably end up dead out of this. All you can think about is Bokuto, you didn’t get to wish him good luck, or give him your flowers (that you spent a fortune on) or even tell him that you loved him one last time.

You think the girls eventually stopped but you couldn’t tell because your body was throbbing and you hurt all over. You tried to get up still wanting to go to the match but you collapse going out cold.

Bokuto was scanning the crowd over and over for you, hoping to spot you there. But he couldn’t, he was wondering where you were getting sadder and sadder by the second since he really believed you were his good luck charm and he probably wouldn’t be able to win without at least seeing your face once.

They didn’t win. Bokuto knew he wasn’t playing at his best, since all his mind was on was thinking about where you were. You’ve never missed one of his games, so he was incredibly worried. After he accepted his second-place medal, he rushed out the stadium to go to your house but he was stopped by some fangirls ‘I guess signing autographs is the least I can do’ he thinks, the fans were being a bit odd today but he didn’t have time to focus on that as his mind was racing thinking about you and your whereabouts.  

One of his fans did give him an alarmingly big boquet of roses which he appreciated ‘these must of cost a fortune’ he thinks. Although it was a probably a long shot, he decided to ask the fan if he saw someone who looked like *whatever you look like* to maybe see if someone else saw you. Which the fan replied “yeah I saw them with some guy at this restaurant whilst we were going to see you!” they exclaimed.

‘A guy’ he thought ‘that most likely wasn’t you.’ Seeing Bokuto’s confusion, the fan followed up with “I'm pretty sure it was her I mean we all know who Bokuto Koutaro’s girlfriend was.” Bokuto didn’t reply just walking away making sure to thank them for the flowers.  

He was rushing towards your house on foot (since all the taxi’s and ubers were fully booked because of the Olympics) whilst running he stumbles across your passed out body all black and bruised with scratch marks and bleeding all over you. “what happened” he whispered, knowing you obviously weren’t going to respond.  

He picked up your near-dead body, and cradled you in his arms taking you back to the stadium (since he knew that getting an ambulance to come here or running to the hospital would basically be impossible.) When he got back to the stadium, he did get odd looks from strangers but he didn’t care, his only agenda was making sure you were okay.

You woke up, and saw Bokuto pacing the room repeatedly you tried to get his attention by saying his name but your throat was damaged. He eventually notices you and runs to your side, stroking your face softly and giving you a gentle hug making sure not to hurt you.  

“Who did this Y/N?” he asks with worry in his eyes  

You ignore his question and look at the silver medal wrapped around his neck making you sad “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the match, I tried I really did try” you said with your voice sounding even worse after you said every word.  

“Don’t be silly, I’m just glad that you’re okay babe, I was really worried about you.” he said

The Medic came in and said that you had multiple broken ribs, but beside that you were fine you just needed to rest your throat and let your bruises heal. You eventually told Bokuto that it was some of his fans, he was upset that you hid this from him for so long but he was just glad that he got to you as soon as he did. He managed to play at the next Olympics and you were there fully present, with your even bigger boquet of flowers watching win gold.

Authors Note: I tried to make it as close to your request as possible, but I hope you enjoy as I really do think this is my favourite work so far.... :3 Comments and feedback appreciated.

[no-droids]

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here.  This is like.  You remember that one game, Mercy?  The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous.  Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares?  It’s child’s play.  It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person.  You never have been.  It’s just not part of your nature.  If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else.  You just… do you.  You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good.  And if it’s bad, it’s good.  Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit?  Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open.  “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron.  What are we doing?  Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up. 

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl.  You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench.  “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today?  Thursday?  Friday?  Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day.  Thursday, then. …Thursday?”  You shake your head.  “Ugh, see?  Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.”  He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers.  It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now.  Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that.  Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it.  “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation.  To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small.  Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here.  “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap.  You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are.  “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink.   “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron.  First and last word, that’s all it takes.  And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?”  He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel.  “ Easy credits.  Just begging for it.  Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust.  As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly.  Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him.  “You just turned my money into a sex object.  It was vile.  I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging.  You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it.  “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now.  Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?”  You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them.  Withdrawal stage, ha.   “Of course it’s all that bad.  It’s horrible.  It’s the fucking worst.  And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this?  Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to.  “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you.  “I did not.  When the fuck did I cheat?  I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more.  He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire.  “Okay, first of all?  Rude.  I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright?  I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him.  And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good.  He smells… unbelievably fucking good.  Always.  Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on.  It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit.  No such luck so far.  

“Whatever.  The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.  “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want.  In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming.  “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is.  “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?”  He goes on, completely ignoring you.  “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen?  You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm?  No snorgasms?  Hmmm?  No happy naps?  No captain midnights?  No mattress fracking?  Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked.  “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again.  You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one.  “Anyways.  Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!”  You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting.  And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills.  Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems.  “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!”  You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation.  “There it is!  You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself!  Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both.  Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum?  This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused.  He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath.  “Sorry.  But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal.  And descriptive.  “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right.  Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh?  I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.  

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me.  Not right now.  Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh.  Something occurs to you, something… sinister.  Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long.  It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before.  You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan.  You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away.  A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?”  You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?”  Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more.  “Now many times did you cum in your sleep?  Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?”  He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time.  “It was involuntary.”

You shrug.  “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious.  “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?”  You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with.  Instead, your voice is soft, questioning.  Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait.  You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape.  The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,”  he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought.  Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this.  The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous.  “It’s your room, too.  Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there.  You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?”  You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number.  You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them.  “Red-Six.  Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder.  “Or, wait… Neah.  No—it was… Nalal.  Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter.  “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest.  “It was starting to get obnoxious.  Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is.  “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should.  Lower than it should.  You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls?  Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel.  “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head.  “Sometimes a sabbatical is good.  I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment.  “I’m sorry?  And… you’re welcome.  I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long.  The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable.  At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together.  I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block.  He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus.   You have to control yourself.  You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless.  It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this.  Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever.  One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option.  “This isn’t a good idea.  It’s… not healthy.  I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him.  “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing.  It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit.  “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection.  “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp.  “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—”  You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?”  Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky.  Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding.  Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast?  This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself?  “Finish it.  Sooner, rather than later.  Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident.  Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive.  Fuck.  Dameron, and you, in bed.  It could be mean.  It could be rough.  A fight for dominance more than anything.  He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now.  Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning.  Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?”  Are the first recognizable words that can be heard.  “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips.  “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance.  It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working.  Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before.  Of course.  Stupid.  Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air.  You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed?  A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet.  You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think.  Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences.  You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off.  This is different.  This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable.  A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…”  Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you.  There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him.  Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal.  You don’t like it.  You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead.  The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong.  “I mean, y’know.  Theoretically speaking, and all.  If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before.  Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something.  This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you.  Shit.  You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.  

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin.  You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done.  What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation.  You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it.  Stop it.  Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation.  How dare he?  How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses?  You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him.  Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier.  “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet.  No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright?  Don’t talk to me.  You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight.  And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it.  It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has.  Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least.  You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it.  You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving.  It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds.  A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons.  Mainly, the nerve of him.  The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,”  You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space.  You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare.  “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge.  “You’re… plotting.  Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship.  “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it.  Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty.  Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it.  “Something that you like, that gets you going.  Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further.  “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should.  It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not.  This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable.  The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?”  You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same.  “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart.  “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks.  Default to normal, default to normal.  “Your fucking attitude.  Your demeanor.  The way you talk down to me.  You don’t listen.  You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen.  You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?”  He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second.  This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here.  He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on.  “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back.  “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it.  There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity.  Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed.  “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily.  “Have since the moment we met.  And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it.  You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?”  You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak.  “Pop the top on this bitch.  Put me out of my fucking misery, right now.  You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait.  And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up.  You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way.  He deserved that.  You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake.  Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you.  Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders.  It’s not sexual.  It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating.  He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline.  His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter.  They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.  

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret.  “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need.  Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words.  To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit.  You feel like you’re literally burning up with it.  You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire.  “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone.  “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember.  Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it.  How long’s it been?  Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless.  Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?”  You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes.  Oh fuck, be cool, be cool.  “You think this is gonna work?  Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek.  The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs.  How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard.  “Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second.  Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow.  “Beard or no beard, makes no difference.  Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere.  You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone.  “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious.  Maker, how long until your shift is over?  You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league.  “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?”  Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder.  “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself.  Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going.  “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next.  “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me.  But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist.  Resist .  You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios.  Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting.  “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you.  Go nice and slow.  I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away.  I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it.  How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker.  This is a trick.  It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it.  You can’t fucking fall for it.  It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all.  He’s lying to get your guard down.  He laughed at your flirting.  He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him.  You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback.  You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say.  Your room.  It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now.  Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register.  “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see.  I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to.  Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out.  And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm.   Your bed,” he eventually decides.  “I want you comfortable.  You shower at night.  Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep.  That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point.  And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while.  However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening.  Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through.  Maker, it’s fucking painful.  You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?”  You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time.  Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body.  “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in.  Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before.  Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other.  Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies.  Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy.  It hurts to lose a first name.  But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design.  He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it.  Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now.  It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two.  You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea.  Nothing about it comes out right.  The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself.  Oh Maker, can you imagine?  How fucking proud of himself he’d be?  You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it.  Where’d it go?  Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it.  Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false… 

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear.  You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you.  Like… teakwood, maybe?  Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind.  What the fuck does teakwood even smell like?  “Maybe it’s just what I need.  You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low.  It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls?  Just a little bit?  That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad.  That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…”  You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now.  “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it.  “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato.  It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low.  “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.  At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs.  “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage.  “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this.  Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be.  You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want.  And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move.  Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body.  You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder.  “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you.  He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side.  “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—”  Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down.   But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second.  As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise.  The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use.  Fuck , it’s been so long .  You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now.  It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks.  “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs.  “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion.  The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone.  Fuck, he almost made you cum.  He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide.  You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again.  You have to close your eyes.  You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more.  “Shhhit.  I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it.  Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless.  “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck.  Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back.  They start… moving slightly.  Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize.  He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.  A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm.  Dameron might cum in his pants like this.  Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum.  You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight.  You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving.  “One… one more.  If you want.  You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you.  “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.”  You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether.  His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb.  The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure.  Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger.  He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time.  He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat.  Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief.  Genuine, not embellished.  He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go.  You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this.  You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again.  It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?”  Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that.  He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly.  “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you.  Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet.  Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much.  You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes.  It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it?  You could.  You could cum right now.  What’s two weeks of pay?  You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence.  Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear.  “Be nice.  I’m being nice.”

You should bite him.  Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now.  Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again.  Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying.  You need air.  Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this.  If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all.  Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore.  “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit.  Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half.  He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that.  Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good.  Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good.  Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in.  Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?”  He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them.  “How clearly do you remember the rules?  What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt.  No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer.  “Tell me.  No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind.  But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore.  There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement.  The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it.  “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends.  Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—”  The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out.  “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine.  “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does.  The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it.  You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout.  You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it.  You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves.  The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space.  He doesn’t even acknowledge it.  “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest.  “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens.  Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you?  Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck.  “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order.  “Right now.  Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it.  “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally.  The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm.  You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it.  Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day.  First names hurt.  You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence.  Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks.  A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

[mqnasluvr]

skinship headcanons | genshin impact

pairings; jean x gn!reader, amber x gn!reader, albedo x gn!reader

mentioned; kaeya, lisa, huffman, sucrose

warnings; suggestive themes ( jean ), all lowercase, not proofread

word count; 1.7k but half of it is albedo

jean

jean is not the touchiest person out there, but she does enjoy holding you. not too big on pda either; the most you’ll get out of her in public is maybe a quick smooch on the cheek and hand holding🛐 other than that, shes quite reserved.

her hugs are very comforting, but the first couple of times it was awkward on her part. she was used to giving barbara and klee hugs, but this was different. she wasn’t sure where to put her arms, and if anything she got more frustrated the more she hesitated.

once she grows accustomed to it, she’ll be fine. she enjoys the warmth and innocence of hugs, especially if you’re taller than her.

like i said, in public she isnt very touchy. while running errands she does keep you close though, and enjoys holding your hand more and anything.

behind closed doors shes a little bit bolder, but still shy overall. she’s not sure if she’s moving too fast for you so she waits until you initiate any type of physical contact, then takes it from there herself. it took her a long time before she managed to get the courage to kiss you tbh

one time when you two were in her office, amber walked in on you “distracting” jean from her work.

“y/n, i have to get back to work, please,” jean adverted her eyes from your gaze, embarrassed. she kept looking at the door, mentally asking herself if the door was locked or not and getting more nervous as the seconds passed.

you sat straddled on the young womans lap, her hands loosely placed on your hips. holding her face in your hands, you guided her face back to yours. “you work for way too long,” you frowned. “and i’m bored. there’s nothing to do in here.”

“the library is just across the hall—“

“if i read another book my brain will implode.” jean sighed and shook her head.

“please indulge in me just this once? please jean?” she stared at you blankly, her resolve quickly deteriorating. a couple of kisses couldn’t hurt, could it? she looked up at the clock in the corner of the room, then back at you.

sighing for the umpteenth time that day, she nodded. “just for a little while-“

before she could finish speaking, you pressed your lips to hers hurriedly, not wanting to waste any time. jean barely ever separated herself from her work, and refused to accept help from anyone else. you almost never had time alone with the acting grand master— you weren’t going to miss your chance now.

the kiss was not heated whatsoever, just very.. clumsy. and needy. on your part, at least. jean tried her best to slow you down, gripping your hips as her face heated up.

“jean, lisa needs you for somethi- oh,” amber nearly dropped the papers in her hands, immediately covering her eyes with it instead. you whipped your head around and stared at the girl wide-eyed before she spoke up again. “d-did i come at a bad time? i am so sorry, i’ll um. i’ll go now.”

jean couldnt look her in the eyes for WEEKS

it was painful

but overall, she likes physical affection, shes just nervous :,)

amber

amber LOVES touching you!! she’s 100% okay with pda. she isnt as forward as maybe kaeya or lisa, but she’s still rather bold. sometimes she forgets youre in public too, which ends up drawing a lot of attention to the both of you.

when you two go out on dates she is always touching you. hand in hand, arm around waist, whatever. theres always some type of physical contact, no matter what.

it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that you two are dating but for some reason she didn’t think that anyone knew ?? one time huffman saw yall kissing in an alleyway u really aren’t slick🤨

she loves cheek and forehead kisses, but likes receiving them more than giving really. shes a hyper one, and these kisses fluster her enough to make her quiet down. ( it’s so cute )

she often picks you up to hug you, spinning you both around in circles in an almost bone crushing hug. other than those times her hugs are really soft, but the energy is still there. ^^

have i mentioned that she is affectionate?? because she really is. she does respect your boundaries though, but if you feel uncomfortable you’re going to have to speak up on it because she won’t notice.

in private her clinginess is amplified by 10.

“i’m trying to cook, amber,” you mumbled, struggling to stir the paste sauce in the pot. all you were trying to do was make dinner for the two of you, but around 5 minutes ago she came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your arms and torso. you could feel her bury her face further into your back.

“mhm, and it smells really good too,” she hummed. you groaned, and she just giggled.

“i’ll be done in like, 20 minutes, amber. you can hug barron bunny in the meantime,” you tried to pry her arms off of you but she started whining.

“that’s too long.”

“no, it isnt,” you turned around with a spoonful of pasta sauce, motioning for her to open her mouth. she slurped the sauce and gave you a thumbs up.

“see? its good, right? well it wont get much better if you keep clinging to me so much,” she stayed quiet, but at least loosened her arms around you so that it was easier to move. you lightly patted her hand. “thank you.”

“whateverrr,” she drawled, and you couldnt help but laugh.

the pasta was in fact very good

in the end, shes the exact opposite of jean, and youll need to slow her down a lot :,)

albedo

as far as physical contact goes, it’s literally the last thing you will ever find on his mind. he’s too caught up with other things to think about physical affection

he does love you yes, but he doesnt show it through physical means. he does more gift giving, like when he sees a pretty flower that reminds him of you while going out to find starsilver shards.

if you want a hug or anything out of him you’re going to have to initiate it first— it’s foreign territory, and it’s not something he’s particularly interested in, so he doesnt feel the need to indulge in it

however the first time you two cuddle you can tell that he’s hooked. and he does a terrible job at hiding it.

now, he insists that you sit in his lap while he is taking notes because it “helps him focus better” and because “he’s so lonely”

we all know that aint true lmfao

he also really likes it when you play with his hair. please play with his hair, especially when you want him to get away from his studies. physical contact is completely foreign to him so something as simple as a scalp massage will make him melt 🛐

whenever he refuses to get away from his work, sucrose always asks you to step in because he wont listen to her

“y/n,” sucrose quietly approached you as you conversed with kaeya. you turned to her and nodded, albiet a bit concerned. sucrose never really needed you for anything, what did she need now that she couldn’t do herself?

kaeya took this as his sign to leave, but not before giving you a quick pat on the head. “yes, sucrose?” you said. “did something happen?”

she nodded meekly, watching kaeya walk off. a little bubble of guilt formed in her stomach from interrupting. “ah, i need your help with something. you see, mr albedo has been doing research non-stop on a new thing that has caught his eye since yesterday afternoon. i’ve tried to get him to put his research on pause, but,” she adjusted her glasses. “he doesn’t listen to me. i was hoping if you could maybe convince him to take care of himself?”

you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. he was doing it again. but you couldnt really blame him, he was terrible at keeping his hyperfixations under control. “i’ll take care of him, sucrose. don’t worry.”

she visibly relaxed at your words. sucrose flashed you a smile of gratitude, then waved and walked off to finish her errands in mondstadt.

—

it didn’t take him very long to notice your presence behind him. you were practically glaring at him, but there was no true anger behind it. wordlessly, albedo turned around in his chair and looked up at you.

you crossed your arms. “albedo,” you started, and it took everything in him not to sigh at the inevitable lecture.

“sucrose sent you, did she not?” he propped his arm up on the armrest of his chair, leaning his face into his hand as he gazed at you nonchalantly.

“of course she did. why aren’t you taking breaks?” he turned his chair back around, but you sat on the desk he was working at. you placed your hand on top of his papers and he shot a glare at you. it didnt phase you in the slightest.

“i have work to do. it’s much easier to do it all at once than stop inbetween.”

“have you at least been taking care of your basic needs? when was the last time you ate, or drank water?”

your eyes softened when he looked away.

hopping off of the desk, you grabbed his hand and pulled him away from his work ( gently, of course ). he barely protested.

you started muttering about how he needs to take better care of himself while pouring him a cup of water and making him a simple sandwich. he was a bit disappointed in himself for making you worry, and ate the food you gave him guiltily.

you pinched his cheek as he ate, giving it a light tug. he slapped your hand away playfully and a bit of the guilt he felt lifted when he heard your laugh. “i’m sorry you have to go through this for me.”

you shook your head. “you just need to learn how to stop yourself. you’re smart albedo, i’m sure you’ll figure it out in no time.”

he finished eating his food and, uncharacteristically, pulled you in for a hug. albedo rested his forehead against your shoulder, relaxing even further when you weaved your fingers through his hair.

“...i’m sorry, y/n.”

“stop apologizing.”

“okay. sorry. oh-”

you laughed.

[corysmiles]

Could you believe I actually am back with some Runnaway Experiment WRITING??? :D

This takes place very early on in the story, and gives some more insight into Tommy's life before they escaped (in the comics). Enjoy :D

-------

The experiment was growing years after years, to everyone’s delight. It seemed the first laboratorial human had a decent enough lifespan so that it could be studied in the long run. And so, 14 years, it has been since T0M saw the light of day, and it acted in a similar fashion a 14 year old human would. .

Of course, the many researchers failed to take in consideration an alteration of the most cumbersome. T0M looked human, could understand the english language, followed orders and didn’t complain, asked some questions but the specimen…. was big.

Too big to fit in a human bed.

Too big to fit comfortably in a room.

It went in spurts, which was terrifying the first time. It kept on growing and growing, as scientists hoped it wouldn't take long for it to stop, otherwise, it might lead to a lot of problems. But for the past 2 years, no noticeable change really occurred, which was a relief when the thing was already 25 ft tall. It never seemed to be challenging personality wise, which was a relief, but they still needed to keep him in line.

Hopefully, the Doctor Soot, as well as Doctor Puff took part in daily check ups and made sure he didn’t rebel.

So, every 2 day, they took turns to visit T0M in the room accustomed to its needs.

And both’s reports were excellent! T0M learned more while being as obedient and compliant as ever. Phil couldn’t be more happy with those results.

However, as time went on…. Wilbur failed to mention another kind of teaching he had going on with the subject for the past months.

“And this is called ‘Sadness’.” He held an A3 size paper with a moody smiley drawn on it, the word being written below. “It’s that feeling when our sessions are over and I have to go and you say ‘oh noooo’ in that voice.”

T0M was sitting on his knees in front of him, paying the utmost attention to what Wilbur was showing and saying.

“I hate that one.” He pouted.

“I know,” Wilbur chuckled. “No one likes to feel sad. But it’s a part of life.”

A single hum. Wilbur’s smile turned more sympathetic.

“Do you remember the other ones?” He stood up from his place and put the sheet in one of the dark grey metallic drawers.

T0M nodded, excitedly. He took his hand and poked his fingers as he counted. “ there’s “Happiness”, it’s the good one. And “Disgust”, it’s when I have to eat the weird green stuff.”

“Brocoli”

“That. And then there’s excitement, it’s when I smile real big because you come early.”

Wilbur clapped “Wonderful!” T0M’s eyes were shining stars at every approval from Doctor Soot. Even though T0M’s enjoyment was very appreciated and contagious, but it could be a bit… much, to handle at times.

“Since you understand the basics, I think it’s time for us to start a whole new lesson.” He clapped.

T0M gasped and cheered from the top of his lungs “YEAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!”, throwing his arms in the air and effectively making the room shake from the sheer volume of his voice. When he looked back at the scientist, his eyebrows were pinched and the brunette was covering his ears and curled up, almost in pain.

“...Doctor?” He brought his head close to the man who, after making eye contact, scrambled back until he hit the same drawer he put the papers in earlier. T0M looked at him confused, face still too big in Wilbur’s peripheral.

“I… Tom, I appreciate your enthusiasm when we do our lessons, but if you could prevent yourself from screaming, it would be nice.” He tried in the most gentle voice he could muster without it shaking.

“What’s screaming?” T0M asked, crouched so his face was almost on the ground at eye level with him. He brought a hand closer to the doctor who was still breathing heavily. When his head shot to look at the hand, his body on alert, he froze before saying.

“... Is it a moment when I can’t touch you?”

Wilbur’s eyes were locked on the now frozen hand for a good second before returning to T0M, nodding. “Uh, yeah.”

“... Okay.”

The hand retracted in the following seconds, and soon, he was back in his initial position.

The doctor thanked before regaining his composure. He looked back at T0M, and his expression held remorse. A guilt twisted Wilbur's guts at the view. Thing is, as T0M grew up, people quickly realised he was the equivalent of clingy. He would constantly grab people into hugs and had a hard time keeping his voice down which resulted in a large noise blocker investment. And so they had a rule. T0M couldn’t make any sort of physical contact with anyone without being given explicit permission first. Obviously, most workers considered T0M as a test subject and therefore, wouldn’t give him that pleasure.

Wilbur, though, was not in the same vein. Once he realised how empathic and emotional and human T0M was, he started teaching him things a human teen should need, and started giving him a sort of affection a human teen should have. Which included some sort of physical affection.

When T0M was sad, he would sit next to him or pat his back. It quickly evolved as Wilbur accepted being held by the boy and brought to eye level as long as he was careful when doing so, and ever later, they would hug and wilbur would try to brush his hair at times.

Still, that didn’t make him immune to any of T0M’s carelessness which’s consequences were amplified ten fold due to his scale.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked pitifully.

“I- no, it’s not your fault. It can just be a bit overwhelming is all.” Wilbur explained.

“... what does that mean?”

“It means… when something is ‘too much’. Like when you want to bring Techno very close, but he keeps reminding you about the rule.”

“Oh.” T0M let his head fall. “... I don’t like that.” Wilbur scratched his head. “I want to be so close and show that I’m very happy and it’s all inside and I can’t let it out.”

“Well, here, it’s a bit more of the opposite. When outside, there is a lot and you’re incapable of letting it in.”

“... I’m sorry Wilbur” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, I’m not angry.” reassured the brunette. “I just have sensitive ears.”

“...Everyone has sensitive ears.”

“Well, when you’re a small guy like me, you’re sensitive on pretty much all fronts.”

“... It’s not fair.”

“What’s that?” Wilbur perked.

“When I stop getting big and strong, I want to hug you with all of my will. Like you do with me. It feels nice. I want you to feel nice just like that. I want you to be overwhelmed with happiness. I want to hug you so, so bad but I can't and it's shit. I don't want to be strong, I hurt you if I’m strong. I want to hug you."

Tommy vented, more to himself, and when he looked at Wilbur, his eyes shined, not with joy.

"Oh Tommy…."

It ached. It ached Wilbur to his core that something as simple as a hug was something he craved and still couldn't get. Because he knew. He knew all of the things T0M was missing out on. All the life he could have lived if he was granted freedom. How much he could live and appreciate. It kept him awake at night.

But he was here. Trapped. In a room barely tall enough to contain him, treated like a circus monster. And the worst thing was, T0M wasn't aware of it. Of all the life he wasn't living. How his life was no life and how he thinks this absence of everything is what life should be.

Plato would probably laugh in his grave.

"I promise you. One day, you will be able to do that. I promise you that I'll find a way for you to hug me just like you are a small man too. I promise you that I'll make you discover all of those joys of life, Tom. I Promise you. I will help you. And I'm sorry for not being able to provide it sooner. And I'll apologize for all the years it took for me to get it."

They stared at each other, and Tommy nodded, throat tight and eyes wet.

"And a promise makes sure that it's gonna happen." T0M croaked.

"Exactly, tom." Wilbur smiled. "You are going to live many more things."

The bell rang, and both faces fell a bit.

"I'll see you in 4 days, Tom. We're gonna have a little recap over the emotions you learned and then I'll teach you about relationships."

"Oohh, that sounds nice! What is it?"

As Wilbur packed his little bag, he looked at T0M and simply replied "it's all around you. But I'm not gonna spoil the next session. On that note, I wish you a nice week, Tom."

"Have a nice week, Wilbur! " T0M waved with a smile. "It's nice talking to you."

"It is my absolute pleasure, Tom."

And thus, they parted. As Wilbur walked down the immense corridor (just tall enough Tom could run through them.) He wore a satisfied smile. His small steps resonated, the only sound in the room, yet peaceful enough for his ears to listen to them as carefully as silence. Halfway through, the sound was doubled.

"Helloooo."

"Oh, hey techno! How are you?"

"Doing fine. You seem very happy."

"I am. I made some good progress with T-he subject. I feel like he's learning well. The next tests should have fabulous results."

"Ahh, wonderful. Let's make sure it doesn't learn too much though." He joked.

And at that, Wilbur chuckled, his hand on the man's shoulder. "Oh don't you worry about that, my friend. I can assure you that'll never happen"

"Amazing" techno replied, deadpan. Both nodded their conversation away and walked the rest of their ways.

As he got further away, the doctor's smile turned to an amused grin. His steps resonated, so much smaller than what could be, in a corridor in which the boy just next door should walk through.

"Don't you worry about a single thing."

MEL YES I ADORE THIS AU SO MUCH ITS SO GOOD!!!!!!!!

Poor Tommy but at least Wilbur is helping him :”]

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 8

18+ only

Warnings and summary - Masterlist

You can’t stand it. The anticipation is a part of the foreplay and god knows he’s magnificent at it, but you’re just propped up with a pillow under your hips and the air of the room cool on your skin —every entrance exposed for him— and he hasn’t touched you since walking into the bedroom.

You imagine ahead to the sex that will follow whatever he has in store and you know he’s watching the way you flex and pulse with wanting him.

Your hands are still bound at the wrist and currently over your head so your weight is on your elbows as you lift your chin trying to see him behind you.

“Head down,” He says and you comply. He says your name as if disappointed in you “Am I not clear with my rules?” He asks and you’re scared to answer. “You remember the last time you broke them right?”

You do, of course you do. The pain and denial followed by such a release. “Yes Baron.”

“And yet you’ve done it again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

You smile just a little and refuse to give him the answer that will save your hide. For better or worse, he is not patient with you tonight.

The resulting smack of his belt to your ass makes you shriek and you bite the duvet. Your hands are folded and you press your fingers into the flesh to get through the pain.

“Will you offer yourself like that again?” He asks.

You shake your head but raise up to speak. “I was just helping.” You roll your eyes and he can’t see your face but you’re very good at amplifying that snarky tone.

You feel the sting of not one but two slaps of the belt this time and the pain translates as anger, the emotion bubbling in your chest. “That’s not fair, I did what you wanted!” You yell.

God…why did you go and do that? Maybe because you know what will happen. He does not accept you talking back to him when you’re fully in your roles and tonight you’re having a hard time keeping the worlds separate.

Now there is an awful rhythm to his punishment. The horrible sting of the belt and you count to three in your head between strikes and try to flex your muscles to brace against the next but there is no relief.

When your shoulders shake and you’re on the verge of tears, Zemo stops.

“What is rule one?” He asks.

“No flirting.” You whisper your breath shaking your chin quivering.

“And did you break the rule?”

“But I thought… you told me to…”

He sighs. “I said to distract him, not to give yourself to him, not to let him touch you, and he did, didn’t he?”

You open your eyes looking out at the dark city skyline through the windows. “Yes.”

“Where? Where was his hand while you blew on his dice?” He says disgusted.

You look away and groan. “My ass…”

“Whose?” He asks, his voice high with the question he already knows the answer to.

You’re confused at first and don’t answer. The sharp crack across your skin snaps you out of it and you cry out but answer. “Yours”

“Say it again.” He snarls.

“Yours, Baron yours.” You insist. “I’m sorry” You gasp when you feel his hand make contact instead of the belt. One smack and then he lays his palm flat on your hot, stinging skin. “I am yours”

“I know,” His voice is in your ear and you feel a finger slide down along your glistening divide. He is breathing hard, you feel each exhale down your back as he strokes. “You’re very wet.”

You press your lips tight as you moan. “I—I just…”

“You liked it didn’t you?” He says slipping his finger in just a little

You open your eyes and look back at him over your shoulder. “What?”

“We’ll have to find someone more suitable for you to play the whore with later. Polisky is not worthy of you. Not even close. Until then, you’ll have to be satisfied with one man.” He’s been slowly adjusting his hand as he speaks and now he’s got his thumb at your asshole and his middle finger teasing your cunt.

You swallow feeling your mouth go dry.

He wants you to fuck another man?

Zemo is toying with you and the little sparks of surprise that come from being touched at both entrances make you whimper and moan. You want more…

Who would it be? This other man. He knows a lot of people, but you’re fairly certain he doesn’t have friends he’d trust with you. Maybe one of the boys from Low Town…. Just as you start to get lost in that fantasy, he pulls the pillow out from under your hips and turns you over helping bring your arms down so your hands can rest.

“Open your legs” He says and gets up.

You pull your knees up and out to make the diamond shape that he likes and watch as he strips down to nothing but his underwear. He goes and stands at the foot of the bed to look at you and you wonder for a moment if there will be pleasure or pain or both.

Even he seems unsure. You catch a glimpse of something else that has nothing to do with either of your tastes in sex and you want to pull him close, but you need to ask first.“Baron?”

He looks down at you and raises his chin in defiance to the feelings he’s keeping secret.

“May I ask you something?”

“You may.” He says.

“Are you sure you want this tonight?”

His eyes narrow. Instead of answering, he gets on the bed and lowers down, pushing your leg closed as he settles beside you.

“Want what?”

“Me…”

He smiles but it’s sad. He calls you lovely Sokovian pet names and traces your profile with his finger. “There is truly nothing I want more.”

You turn to look at him very much aware of being bound and unable to touch him. “What happened in there. What happened in Polinsky’s room. You saw something and you haven’t been the same since.”

He sighs slowly, so reluctant to say, but he does finally. “Before I came back to Madripoor, I was in prison, you know this already” He says unbinding your hands. It's unexpected but you lay there letting him. “I was—freed— by someone I have something of a past with.”

“A friend?” You feel a twinge of jealously. “Who is she?”

Zemo pauses, looks at you and chuckles. “She, is named James Buchanan Barnes, you might have heard him referred to as, the winter soldier.”

You gasp rubbing your wrists. “You know him? He’s, well he’s got a reputation to rival yours.

Zemo shrugs a little and lets the silky rope that he uses to tie you up fall to the bed beside you. “Apparently he’s a changed man.” He says and you’re very curious as to what that means.

“What does that have to do with Polinsky’s phone?”

“I saw a notification. He’s here, in New York with Sam Wilson. Captain America himself. My hunt for the serum has led them to me.”

You understand now. The Avengers or what’s left of them can’t go anywhere without people taking pictures. It’s probably on some TMZ knock off website and Zemo saw it. “They’re here for you?”

“I’m a very wanted man.”

“Don’t I know it” You tease softly and he actually laughs. “Are you afraid they’d take you back?’

“No. It’s not them I’m worried about. But if James and Sam know, then the real threat is near.”

“Who?” You ask ready to defend him in any way that you can.

Zemo runs his thumb over your lips and gently turns your head to face him. “Don’t think about it. Tonight may be all we have for a while.”

The threat of being apart makes you sit up and you go to your knees looking down at him. “No! Are you kidding? You can’t let that happen!” He seems surprised. “No! Zemo please! You have to do something!”

Why is he looking at you like that? Like you’re cute or sweet or any of the stupid things he says. You can’t stand it. “What’s that matter with you? Don’t you want to get away? Why would you give up like that!”

His eyes are fire but he doesn’t move and the way he just watches you makes you want to scream. “Seriously, why are we just sitting here? Get up, Get dressed! lets go back to Madripoor and hide”

He reaches for you but you swat his hand away which shocks him. The way he looks at you, you know that was a mistake. He grabs your wrist so hard you’re instantly missing the rope.

Zemo sits up and flips you onto your back, his hands holding your arms down. “I don’t run, I don’t hide. I make plans. And right now— this is my plan.”

“You’re a coward,” You toss out and look away, your heart racing as you try to accept that this may be the end of it.

He eases his hold on you and you dare to look up at him again. “Oh… I see.” He says very calmly, as though he’s only just realized something and sits up. “Yellow.”

“What?”

“Yellow.”

You are stunned. He’s never once used a color or a word. When he moves to the edge of the bed hanging his head you feel frantic with worry. “I’m so sorry! What did I do?” You try to make sense of it.

He glances over when you come to sit, legs curled under you at his side. “Nothing. I just need to slow this down.”

Your eyes are brimming with tears. This is not how you thought this night would end. “This? You mean me? Are you afraid of what’s happening? Not with them, the people looking for you. I mean with us? What can you see?”

He sighs and lays his hand on your thigh. “I think, maybe I’m not ready or worthy of the feelings you have. I have no business pretending to be a free man. My life is tied to my mission.”

“That’s not fair, you’ve kept me coming back to you for weeks!”

He looks up. “Yes, and it was wrong of me”

“No it wasn’t! It was wonderful. Zemo please. Don’t do this. Not now. Not here in a place I don’t know in a city that’s not mine or yours.”

He moves like he might get up, but you grab his arm. “How dare you!” He looks at you and you shrink back, but he doesn’t say a word. “How dare you make me feel this way and then tell me it was a mistake!”

He’s still just staring.

“What? Is it because you know? How I feel… You’re scared of me aren’t you” Your voice shakes with anger. “You’re scared to have someone love you again!”

He does get up then and walks to the windows.

There, you've said it.

He’s standing with his back to you and your eyes wander down the tense muscle of his back and arms lit by the lamp next to the bed. He crosses them and you want nothing more than to go and put your own arms around his broad shoulders but he’s being selfish. You can not reward that with love no matter how strongly you feel it.

“You’re still a coward if you can’t even face me. Look me in the eye and tell me again, Tell me you don’t want this."

You’re on your knees at the edge of the bed breathing hard, angry, hurt, scared… you can’t imagine having him only to loose him like this.

It feels like hours pass before he turns to you and the sight of him in the dark makes you groan softly from the absolute ache in your heart. The shadows that fall across his face only make him look more beautiful. You love him so much you could shove him out the window.

“Say it, say it and I’ll go” You whisper ignoring the tears that sparkle in your eyes.

His dark gaze is laser focused on you until finally he drops his arms and walks over to the bed.

His hand is around your throat and you grab his wrist, your eyes pleading as his go soft and he hangs his head for just a second. His brows angle down with the threat of sadness, but he squares his jaw and raises his head looking at you again.

“I want you to leave.” He says but you see his eye twitch and he almost breaks down. You know in that moment nothing has ever been further from the truth.

“I love you Helmut.” You whisper closing your two hands around his one, and he does crack then. That tough exterior didn’t stand a chance against the sledgehammer of your confession and he slides his hand away from your throat and up to your face, grabbing you by the chin jerking your forward.

“Go.” He insists.

“I’ve loved you for so long…”

“Leave.”

“And you love me too. I know you do.”

He seems furious but not with you. He’s at a loss for what to do, so he does the only thing he can and kisses you to stop himself from saying it back.

It’s a deep, slow kiss, that transfuses every ounce of pain he feels into you, and you inhale it, you suck it down wanting to free him of it. If this is your last night together then let it be a good one. “Show me.” You say, your lips still against his. He is kissing you down into the bed. “If you can’t say it, then show me you love me. Please Baron, show me like I know you want to.”

He has you on your back again and pauses, looking you in the eye as though you’ve just given him the green light. You feel a flash of fear, worried you’ve gone to far but you trust him, you know him, you love him.

Quickly Zemo grabs the black silk ribbon. “Put your hands over your head.”

You do instantly and bite your lip when he binds your wrists again, tighter this time. Once you’re secure, he sits up and opens the side table pulling out a blind fold. Its’ over your head and tossing you into darkness immediately.

He is silent again, you don’t feel him get back onto the bed and now you’re breathing quickly wondering where he’s gone. The anticipation is heightened with the truth of your love hanging low in the room.

And then his hands close around your ankles and you gasp loudly as he yanks you down over the bedding until your legs dangle over the edge. With your arms still above your head, you pull the fabric into your fingers to give yourself something to hold onto, but you won’t be needing it.

Zemo is surprisingly strong when you least expect it.

He grabs the rope and brings your arms down gently until your hands rest in a prayer like position between your breast and he pulls you up to sitting and onto your feet.

You stand there parting your lips after licking them, soothed by his light touch—his fingers trailing down your shoulders and along the low dip of your back— his hands rest on your ass lifting and squeezing the soft flesh just a bit.

When he puts an arm around your waist, you hinge forward a bit letting him hold you, the press of his thick cock at your entrance making you sway your hips a little like you want to swallow him.

The way he pushes inside is enough to make you melt in his arms. He is so slow about it. He wants you to feel every inch, he wants you to understand.

He loves you?

When he’s deep enough that your hips ache, he grabs your elbows and pulls your arms back, the rope rubbing into your skin.

Now he begins. It’s slow —long dragging pull, deep powerful push— back and forth at this speed that consumes you.

You still can’t see but of course this only makes the sensation better.

When his hold on your arms tighten, you suck your lip in bracing for it. The way he moves has your ass bouncing against his hips, and he moans deeply grabbing your own hip and thigh so hard you twist away and then he stops, pulling away.

You feel empty and confused, flexing like you’re trying to find the cock that isn’t there anymore.

Zemo grabs you and pushes you down onto the bed which makes your head spin. He pushes your knees apart and you feel too raw, too open after being fucked to lay here so exposed.

Your eyes are darting back and forth in the dark, your hands moving but unable to do much as you wait, until you feel the smack of something very small right down the center of your sensitive fold.

You cry out and realize that it's the tip of his belt. You moan and squirm fearing the pain, eager for more. You can picture it, him standing there with the strap wrapped around his hand watching you quiver and moan. Now you know why he started to fuck you. He wanted you alert, sensitive and soft to the pain.

Another strike and you close your knees only to feel the consequences as he strikes the tops of your thighs. “Legs open” He says softly.

With a whimper you do and he responds immediately letting that thick leather tap your clitoris until you’re panting, wanting to close your thighs as much as you open wider.

He lands a few more sharp flicks over your wet skin but when your moans change to true pain he stops and the room is silent except for you and the sounds that follow his attention.

When his mouth unexpectedly finds your pussy, you smile and sigh. He’s good with the transition from pain to pleasure and back again.

He licks your silky skin until the sting is soothed. He sucks your clit until you’ve all but forgotten about the spanking. He buries his face in the wet fold until you’re rocking your hips against his beautiful face and on the verge of climax, but he stops again.

That was just to prepare you. He unbinds your hands once more and you relax your arms.

“Move back on the bed.”

“I can’t see” You try.

“Move”

Obediently you turn and crawl back up towards the head of the bed a little hesitant, but you feel the pillows welcome you in and relax as you turn onto your back.

As you start to settle, Zemo is there, not giving you a second to get your bearings. Your legs are shoved apart and he spears you with an urgent momentum. The size and length of him taking your breath away for a second before you cry out, but it’s the good sort of scream. The kind that sends him over the edge and he proceeds to drive into you so hard, the bed moves away from the wall.

You thought he’d always fucked you hard, now you know better. This is the sort of deep penetration that will mark you as his.

He suddenly rips the blindfold off and your eyes open wide to find his bright with that fire you’ve only seen glimpses of before.

His hand slides along your thigh and under your knee which he lifts, bringing your leg up. He glances down to watch and you moan, knowing what he sees —you, tight and pink and stretched around him as he grinds into you so hard you can’t even moan— you can hardly breathe.

When you feel it start to build, you look up at him distracted by the muscle of his shoulders and chest as he moves. “Baron—please—may I come” You beg knowing you must always ask first.

“Yes” He growls and draws back to buck into you until your fingers dig into his shoulders. “Come” He says your name gazing down at you, his eyes steady as his body moves.

You press your head back into the pillow feeling the swell. Zemo lets go of your leg but you keep your knee bent and close. He cradles your face lowering to hover close with his open mouth grazing your own and you feel him getting harder. “Come for me,” He commands and slides his hand under your head lifting just enough to hold you so close that when the first wave hits and the contractions make your walls tighten and your clitoris throb, you feel any barriers between you fall away.

You realize he’s watching you, waiting as he feels it happen around him and then as your strongest pulse hits, he turns his head just enough so that his whisper is loud in your ear.

“I love you.” He breathes and watches you come.

You inhale as he exhales, shut your eyes and let your world implode. You don’t release —you devour. You chase the sound of his voice that has just said what he swore he couldn’t just as desperately as you try to prolong the orgasm that accompanied it and then he lets his head fall to the curve of your neck on the pillow and moans against you as every muscle in his body flexes. Another soft moan escapes him and you smile as warm ropes of come are shot into your belly with each pulse of his rigid cock and he clings to you like you are the one person who might save him from himself.

Your arms slowly close around him, you never want to let him go. You would do anything for this man, and you already have.

When he pulls back and you look at one another, he is the one to speak first.

“This was not a part of my plan.” He says sounded happily defeated and exhausted.

You grin and smooth his fallen hair from his eyes, your heart beating so hard your breast shake as you gaze up at him. Your Baron, the man you let claim you from the moment he first said hello. You feel him still hard inside of you and you’ve been in this position before —so many times— but never like this.

“Yes it was.” You say closing your eyes and his lips meet yours and your arms close around one another, content to stay this way a while longer.

_____________________________________________________________

Captain America and the fucking Winter Soldier. Scratch that. Apparently it’s just Bucky, or James if you’re Zemo.

But you’re you, and you’re in over your head yet again.

Sitting in your seat on the plane you go over everything in your head one last time —driving here, finding them waiting, Zemo inviting them on the plane in exchange for his continued freedom— you thought he’d lost his mind but the way he looked at you as Sam and Bucky boarded, you realized he knows exactly what he's doing.

Now it’s late, You’ve been flying for hours and soon you’ll touch down safely in Madripoor which is exactly where all three of these men need to be.

Apparently the card Zemo found on Polinsky had the Power Brokers logo on it. Zemo is angry that he’d missed the clues before this, but is happy that he and in turn Sam and James are on the right track to finding the serum and stopping the Flag Smashers. While they are not friends, currently you're all on the same team.

Still, you think it all sounds dangerous, but no more so than life normally does.

As far as your new traveling companions, well, Sam is actually funny. You like the way he doesn’t tolerate Zemo’s shit. He’ll make a fantastic super hero you think with a sly grin.

But Bucky... James.

He makes you smile in a different way.

Yes, you love Helmut, you feel it in your bones you care for that man so deeply, but Bucky stirs things you that you have to force yours to ignore. His smile which he doesn't give easily makes you want to break the rules. When he talks you lean in, somewhat awed by his vintage charm and stoic reserve. Not to mention that metal arm that you keep eyeing.

When you wake up and see him quietly looking out the window as you fly through the night, you get his attention and strike up a reserved, but easy conversation. He may be the enemy but not so much so that you can't pass the time. You quietly chat while Zemo and Sam sleep and you realize not only is Bucky cute —cute? No he's classically handsome— he's actually a nice person, which is a real mind fuck as you had every intention of giving him and Sam the cold shoulder the entire time. He does after all want to take Zemo from you once they're done with him.

He also seems to be judging you a bit for your relationship with the man they call a terrorist, but you don't mind. Your love is unconventional in many ways. Bucky picks up on this and leaves it alone, but he does a poor job of not making a face when you talk about your life with Zemo when he asks how you ended up here.

You laugh at the way he eyes your sleeping Baron only to realize Zemo isn't asleep at all. He's watching you, both of you and the look on his face is a warning. You assume it's because you've broken rule one, even though you did try very hard not too.

"Go and sit in back." Zemo tells you.

You bow your head and unbuckle, quietly doing as you've been told. Just before you pass him completely, Zemo catches your hand and pulls you down to kiss you and asks softly. "Are you wearing them?"

You bite your lip but nod. "Yes Baron."

"Good," He strokes your face with the back of his hand and you almost continue to your new seat, but he turns his hand, gripping your face and pushes his finger into your mouth. He gives you a look and you know what to do, no matter how humiliating. You suck him just a little as he turns to look at Bucky, as if to show the former solder exactly who you are.

His.

When Zemo pulls away, you press your own fingers to your lips, surprised but excited as you go to the lonely seat in the back and wait, knowing it's only a matter of time before you're forced into an orgasm that only Bucky will be able to see.

The poor man looks confused to say the least, he can't grasp how you, a grown woman, here of her own free will could suddenly become this silent and submissive thing that does as the Baron says, but when Zemo looks at him, and you can practically sense the exchange between the two men, Bucky looks you in the eyes with the first real smile you've seen on his face, and you know that he will understand soon enough.

*

I know, that was a long one. Thanks for sticking around. Hope you enjoy!

@fictionlandslanddreams

[the-bau-quinjet]

Looks up, grinning like a devil

Chapter 10 of In Breakable Heaven!

Summary: Where did our reader end up?

Warnings: criminal minds level violence, mention of past teacher/student relationship

word count: ~1800

When you open your eyes, you are struck by how dark it is. After you moved to DC, it took a while for you to grow accustomed to not having complete darkness. Even in your apartment at night, light still filters in through the curtains.

At first, you assume the power went out or something, but then you notice something else: the fact that you’re not in your bed. In fact you’re not in any bed. You’re in what feels like a weirdly shaped box.

 That’s when it all comes back to you. You had just hung up the phone after talking to Spencer when someone grabbed you from behind. You tried to fight, but they stuck a needle in your arm.

 The memory causes a jolt of pain in your arm, waking you up. Based on what you can feel and hear, you determine you are in the trunk of a car. You’ve got no way of knowing how long you were out for, or how far you’ve travelled since then. You can feel the panic setting in, but you don’t have much time to think about it before the car is coming to a stop.

 At first you assume it’s a red light or a stop sign, but then the engine cuts out. Without being able to see, every noise you hear seems amplified. Somebody slams the door, walking around to the trunk.

 Before you can come up with a plan, the trunk is thrown open. The light feels blinding as a hand reaches for your arm, dragging you out of the trunk.

 “Move. Let’s go.” The voice is younger than you would’ve thought, and surprisingly enough sounds like a woman. You’ve been around Spencer and the team enough to know most offenders are male.

 You stumble as your feet hit the pavement, eyes slowly adjusting to the lights. You blink a few times, trying to take in your surroundings. You’re in a parking lot, but you don’t recognize the surrounding area.

 The woman drags you along with her. “Don’t even think about running. I’ll drug you again if you don’t cooperate.” You simply nod in response, trying to take in as much information as possible about where you are.

 The area looks empty, but not abandoned. It is clear people still you the building, it just must be closed. Once you’re inside, you realize you’re in a high school, which makes sense since the woman seems so young.

 She pulls you through the halls until you’re in what looks like a history classroom. There is a few globes on a shelf in the back, books littered across the teacher’s desk, and a few assignments written on the white board in the front.

The woman pushes you into a chair, immediately tying your hands and feet. “Now, we’re going to play a game.” She says slowly, as if you might not understand. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and if I don’t like your answers… well, it’ll hurt.” She pulls various knives out of the duffle she was carrying, tossing them on the ground in front of you.

 --

Spencer’s head is reeling. The second note has so much information in it, and yet he can’t figure out what any of it could mean.

 “Reid, what songs did he use this time?” Rossi poses the question, writing the titles on the evidence board.

 “Hey Stephen, Back to December, Fifteen, Sad Beautiful Tragic, This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, exile, Bad Blood, mirrorball, Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince, mad woman, Call it What You Want, The Man, Don’t Blame Me, and White Horse.” He listed the songs without having to think about it.

 “Our unsub could definitely be a woman. I mean, mad woman, the Man? Those are some pretty obvious clues.” Emily threw the idea out as soon as Reid was done listing titles.

 “Definitely. And she’s young if the note is accurate, fifteen three summers ago would make her 18 now.” JJ added, looking through potential case files.

 “What strikes me is the love affair that we took away.” Derek added. “Could we have put away someone she thought she was in love with?”

 “Of the three child predator cases we had, there was only one that dealt with teenagers.” Reid stated, scanning the files laid out in front of him. “Garcia, what happened to Matthew Bradson after he took the deal to do jail time?”

 The only sound in the room was Garcia’s typing as everyone awaited an answer. “He was sentenced to three life sentences, one for Sadie Pullman, one for Kayla Fibbs, and one for Carly Spires. He stayed in DC Department of Corrections, but was killed two weeks ago in a prison riot.” “So our unsub was separated from who she perceived to be her love, and the stressor for taking Y/N was his death.” Hotch stated, earning nods from the rest of the team.

 “Sadia Pullman and Kayla Fibbs were killed before we were called in on the case. We saved Carly Spires though.” JJ read from the case file.

 “The notes said she would be right where we left her, lost in the lights where they whispered she’s a bad, bad girl.” Rossi read from the notes pinned to the evidence board. “Where did we find her?”

 “The high school. We found Bradson and Carly in his classroom. He was collecting items from his desk, and she had a bag with her, as if they were going to run away together.” Spencer recalled from the day in question.

 “That makes sense. The bright lights from the football field, plus rumors about her must have spread like wildfire after the arrest was made.” JJ added.

 “And the man clue, men are praised for their sexual encounters while women are often shamed.” Emily suggested.

 “Garcia, send the address.” Hotch stated as he moved to put on his bulletproof vest, the rest of the team following suit.

 “Already done, sir. Get her back.” Garcia’s voice was firmer than ever before as the team ran from the room to the elevators, headed for their SUVs.

 --

 “Would you say having a relationship with an older guy is wrong?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she stared you down. You haven’t gotten an answer wrong yet.

 “No, I- I don’t think so.” You were frantically trying to figure a way out of this, trying to profile like Spencer had shown you so you could answer the questions correctly.

 “Good answer. How old is too old though?” Her voice dropped with venom, willing you to get it wrong.

 “Um, I think… it depends… um” You stuttered trying to come up with a number that she would be okay with.

 “Depends on what?” Her words were growing harsher.

 “Well, um, maturity level I guess. As long as the two people are equals, the age gap probably doesn’t matter. It’s just if there is an imbalance in power, ya know? Then it might not be the best thing to do just because you don’t want to take advantage of anyone or anything like that…” Your eyes kept growing wider as you realized the hole you were digging for yourself.

 “You see, I don’t think I like that answer.” Each word was enunciated with purpose as she walked closer, dragging the knife along your arm. Before you could reply, she quickly sliced across your right shoulder.

 You couldn’t stop the slight whine that escaped your lips.

 “What? Did that hurt? Poor. You.” She sliced across your shoulder again before asking another question. “Here’s another one. Would you be mad at the people who ruined your relationship?”

 “I don’t know, probably.” You were trying to hold back the tears as the woman started pacing.

 “Not good enough.” She punctuated the sentence with another cut. “Why are you here?”

 “B-B-because you brought me here.” Your words were quiet. You knew it was the wrong thing to say, but you couldn’t think of any other reason.

 “Wrong again.” Another cut. “You’re here because the people you call friends ruined my life. I’m just trying to repay the favor.”

 --

 The team’s two SUVs pulled into the high school parking lot, recognizing the lone car from the video Garcia found. “She’s here. Rossi, Prentiss take the left. Reid, Morgan the right. JJ and I will go straight. Clear the area and move toward the history classroom. If we’re right, that’s where they’ll be.” Hotch called out the orders as the team entered the school, immediately splitting up to search each hallway.

 Their footsteps echo through the halls of the empty school, clearing each classroom they pass. Minutes later, the team converges on Bradson’s old history classroom. Two voices can be heard inside.

 “Answer the question.” Carly Spires sounds enraged, screaming without regard for who could here. “Answer it now!”

 “I don’t know! I don’t know who you are or what happened or why you’re so mad at them.” Your voice is quiet in comparison, almost raw from crying. “I don’t know.” The sound of you in pain nearly brings Spencer to tears.

 “Wrong again.” She cuts into you again, drawing a scream that you try your best to stifle.

 “FBI, drop your weapon.” Hotch moves into the room, followed by Spencer, Derek, Emily, JJ, and Rossi.

 “The whole gang’s here. Perfect.” Carly shifts the knife, pointing it into your back, suddenly calm after showing so much rage. “We’ve been playing this little game for hours. What took you so long? I thought my clues were so obvious.”

 Spencer made eye contact with you while he moved farther into the room. You did your best to reassure him you were fine, but your smile felt more like a grimace.

 “Put the knife down. Now. There’s no way out of this for you.” Hotch tries talking her down, but she just laughs in response.

 “No way out huh? That’s what you said to Matthew to get him to abandon me. I had no one left. The only person who ever truly cared about me left, because of you.”

 “Carly, Matthew didn’t care about you. He would’ve killed you if we hadn’t of caught him.” Hotch continued.

 “Liar! He loved me. And when he left everyone turned on me. I was alone. You took him from me, so I’m taking something from you.” She drove the knife into your back quickly, surprising everyone in the room.

 She put her hands up after that, allowing Derek to take her into custody. “Surprise. Not enough time to profile me, bet you didn’t see that coming.” She laughed maniacally, a sickening grin on her face as Derek pulled her from the room.

 Spencer stood frozen, watching the life drain out of your eyes as Emily and JJ untied you. Hotch called for a medic, moving Spencer out of the way.

 Even when you were on the stretcher, being wheeled out of the room, Spencer couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching you leave.

tag list:

@mac99martin​ @goldeng1rl8​ @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets1967 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean @awkwardnesshabitat @loveheathens @fan-girl-97 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

[flymyhp]

Birds to Spell books Pairing: George Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader Summary: George spends all his time showing his affection in the wrong way, only to ask her to the Yule Ball 6 years later Words: 2,163 Warnings: Mostly angst, fluff at the end tho ;) and the timeline is a little bit wonky at some parts A/N: Hi! This is my first time writing pretty much anything. Give me feedback! Much love, stay safe x Sixth year was exceptionally ordinary for y/n. Nearing the end of November, the Hufflepuff was sat near the fire in the Gryffindor common room with her younger sister, Hermione and the youngest of the trio, Harry. The topic of discussion among everyone at Hogwarts had been the Triwizard tournament, along with the Yule Ball. Although, the trio had seemed to push the ball completely out of their minds, only focusing on Harry’s name being drawn from the goblet of fire. Panic had struck her underclassmen friends due to these events, while recently y/n had been struck with panic for a different reason. “Pipe down, Lee.” Y/n knew the voice coming from behind her, but she didn’t take notice of it until she felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of her head. Her eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to focus on the conversation carrying on between her own group. Nobody seemed to notice the discomfort on her face, being too enveloped with their own issues. This didn’t bother her, the only thing that did was the voice she couldn’t take her attention from. “You haven’t researched the dragons at all, have you, Harry?” Hermione lectured Harry. There was an all too familiar tone in her voice. One that y/n shared with her, and one that she flinched at. “You have no idea how dangerous this is, do you?” “I’m sure he’s figured that bit out himself,” She jumped at the voice, and turned around, only opening her eyes once she was fully facing its owner. “haven’t you, Harry?” George Weasley. Kneeling behind the couch, right next to y/n, grinning. George Weasley. The boy who’d once transfigured her spell books into birds during their third year. The boy who, on multiple occasions over the course of 6 years, used the amplifying charm to make her robes shout during exams. And last week, the boy who’d asked her to the Yule Ball. She was completely sure it was a joke. What she wasn’t sure of was what made him target her the most out of everybody he and his twin played pranks on. It seemed to usually be gullible, younger kids who they went for. Y/n was an exception for six years, especially with George. It also had seemed like a harmless joke that everyone could laugh at. The joke felt nonexistent when it was her turn, as she was the only one not laughing. “I’m only joking, of course, Harry. There’s nothing to fret about.” George let his teasing die down a bit as she decided to zone back in. Just then, y/n felt a tap on her shoulder. Her face turned to meet George’s own. “Mind steppin’ out for a bit?” Y/n’s face went red. She’d hoped her sister didn’t hear him, or she’d be getting a lecture as well. Although she doubted she would, considering Harry’s was likely to continue until he stepped into the arena with a dragon. She reluctantly stood to her feet, her legs shaking slightly as she did so. “Why not? It’s nearing twelve, I’d better head out, anyways. G’night, Mione.” Y/n excused herself. Hermione stopped talking long enough to tell her goodnight and to be careful heading back to the basement with a kind smile which y/n gladly returned. Y/n followed George out of the common room and into the halls. The moon shone bright through the windows and she shivered in the cold of the fall night. “Am I correct in assuming you’re walking me to bed?” She asked, teeth chattering. He chuckled. “Of course I am,” Then he sighed, insinuating that wasn’t all he was here for. “Bird,” George started. The nickname made y/n want to hide in her hoodie the rest of the way back, and possibly the rest of term. “You never gave me an answer about the Yule ball.” He wasn’t asking anything, just stating the fact that weighed on y/n’s shoulders since the minute the question left his mouth a week prior. The question she didn’t exactly have an answer to. This wasn’t a cliché, y/n didn’t like George. She didn’t like the embarrassment he’d put her through for six years. She didn’t want to say yes. She didn’t want to say yes out of fear that it would all be a joke when it came down to the dance. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. On the other hand, she didn’t want to say no and end up going alone, or not at all. “I don’t have one.” This simple sentence left George kicking his feet a little as he walked. He lowered his head, and lifted it up again, his hair flicking out of his eyes as if he’d lost all confidence and then gained it back again. “Not even no?” He was looking at her now. She kept her head straight. “I could take rejection without an explanation, but can you tell me why you just don’t have an answer? Just curious is all.” Y/n swallowed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to explain it to him. Was she being ridiculous? Overdramatic? Overthinking? She didn’t know what to think anymore. They’d already gotten to the entrance to her common room before she could think of what to say to him, so she just let everything out at once. “I can’t give you an answer. My heart sank when you asked me because I know it’s just a big joke. You’ve embarrassed me enough the past 6 years.” She began. She couldn’t control what she was saying, she just spoke. “Y/n,” He started, but was immediately interrupted as she couldn’t stop speaking. “But I can’t say no either, because if I don’t show up, or if I show up alone what am I to say? It’ll be equally embarrassing. I can’t win with you around, George.” When she finished she was out of breath. What she said didn’t hit her until she saw the look on his face. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.” George looked absolutely crushed. She didn’t know until then that he was being completely serious when he’d asked her to go to the Yule Ball with him. She’d ran from him and ignored him for a week, just to break his heart the moment he questioned her again. But how was she to know he genuinely wanted to go with her? She opened her mouth to speak, and George was going to let her but she closed her mouth as soon as he looked up at her. His eyes were watery, and she didn’t know what to do to fix it. Her silence gave George his answer, it was a big no. The twenty-fourth of November was the next chance she saw to speak to George, the first task of the tournament. He hadn’t been as bubbly as he usually is since the night before when she poured her heart out to him. She couldn’t stand to look at him and see hurt in his eyes. All she could think to do was find him in the crowd and force herself to fix things, even if it meant she had to look at his face and see the pain she caused. She walked to the arena with Hermione and Ron. Ron still wasn’t happy about the situation with Harry. He’d caused a few scenes in the common room and the courtyard. Both Hermione and y/n had tried to convince him that Harry hadn’t put his name in, but he couldn’t be convinced. Ron was easy to find his brothers, they had been having students place bets on who they believed would win the task and were walking through the pathway to the arena counting their profit. “Ron, would you mind bringing Fred along with you to find us seats? I have to fix something.” Y/n knew Ron wouldn’t mind, even in his sour mood. “As long as you manage to stop them taking the piss out of me, no problem.” He had a foul look on his face as he glanced at his brothers. She knew that his brothers had been giving him a hard time about Harry, but her first priority was to fix what she messed up. Ron, Hermione and Fred started off toward the arena. George didn’t look at y/n as he began to follow them, so she grabbed the sleeve of his jumper gently telling him to wait. He turned with his head down, he didn’t want to look at her. He was afraid if he did he would cry. “I’m not very good at this, obviously. But I need you to hear me out.” She began. He finally looked at her. She took a breath and started again. “You’ve never shown any sort of fondness towards me, no kindness, no apologies, for six years I’ve been the brunt of all of your jokes. You never gave me any explanation for that. How can you go from tormenting me for years to asking me to the first dance Hogwarts has had since we’ve been here? I couldn’t be a last option, there’s tons of girls who’d gladly go with you if you asked. Why me?” He stared at her for a moment, his eyes searched hers for some type of strength to get him to respond, and he found it. “As I said the other night in the basement, I didn’t realize you’d felt the way you did until you told me. I’ve been beating myself up since you told me how you felt. I’m not upset with you, I’m upset with myself.” This time, y/n began to tear up. “Freddie knows I’ve liked you for ages and he tells me to go for it, but I never could. I singled you out because I thought by doing something funny I could see you smile in the process instead of having to outright tell you how I felt about you. Then we came back to school to find out that they’re holding a dance, and I knew that was my opportunity. That’s why I asked you to the Yule Ball, I went for it as Freddie always told me to. He’s a lot better at going for it than I am, obviously, as he asked Angela the first day.” George finished with a chuckle, his eyes still sad. She blinked, her mouth opened and closed, and opened again. She was speechless. It was hard for her to admit to herself now that even though she didn’t have any romantic feelings for him, it would be easy for them to develop. “I can’t say I feel the same about you, considering I’ve spent my entire time at Hogwarts either crying or avoiding you. My friends are my little sisters’ friends because I’m laughed at due to your pranks.” She told him the truth. Even Ron, their little brother, was nicer to her than he had been. “I understand the way you’ve treated me, and I forgive you even if you aren’t willing to apologize because of what I said the other night.” He gave her a small smile. “Bird, of course I’m apologizing. I never meant to make you cry, or avoid your own classmates, or me. All I’m hoping for now is that I get a proper answer now that we understand each other.” “I have an answer for you. But it’s not exactly a proper one.” He looked at her with curiosity. “I’ll go to the ball with you, even though for now I don’t have any sort of feelings for you.” His head fell slightly at her statement and nodded, still not fully content with her answer. “Don’t look so down, George. If you’re lucky, you can change that. I did say I didn’t have feelings for you for now, didn’t I?” It was her turn to give him a grin. This time, he smiled. The first genuine smile he’d ever gave her. It wasn’t caused by his pranks, it was hopeful and warm. “I do have a tendency to be quite lucky.” The smile still bright on his face, he took one of her hands in his. “I’m sorry, genuinely. I’m sorry for your robes, I’m sorry for transfiguring your spell books into birds in third year, and I’m sorry for making you believe I wasn’t serious with my asking you to the ball. By Christmas, the ball, you’ll be happy to be attending with me. No one will laugh at you anymore, and you won’t have to only have my git brother for a friend. I promise.” She laughed, the first time he’d ever heard her laugh, and it was him who caused it. “Once again, I forgive you.” She took his other hand in hers and looked from their hands to his eyes. “Besides, I prefer birds to spell books anyways.”

[living-with-pmd]

11 Women With PMDD Share What It's Really Like

Premenstrual dysphoric disorder is the evil cousin of PMS. They share the same types of symptoms—moodiness, increased hunger, cravings, fatigue, cramps, pain, brain fog, and depression, among others—but for PMDD sufferers, those symptoms get so bad they can cripple a woman's ability to lead a normal life.  

While up to 85 percent of women get PMS, according to the US Department of Health, only about 5 percent of women experience PMDD, according to the American Journal of Psychiatry.

We asked women with PMDD what it's really like living with the disorder. Here are their stories:

"I was diagnosed with PMDD last summer. Six months prior to my diagnosis, I started taking a certain birth control and soon every month I was experiencing severe PMS issues. I am a generally happy person, but during those few days I was someone entirely different. I was extremely depressed and anxious, having much more frequent panic attacks, and was super sensitive and lonely. I was even suicidal, which was terrifying. And the worst part was I was convinced that I had always been this miserable, and that I would always be this miserable, and it was never going to change. It felt as if someone had completely burned out the light in me and all happiness and joy and hope was gone. I didn't make the connection that it was related to my period but thankfully a close friend did. I have since switched birth control, which helped a lot, and increased the dosage of my anti-anxiety and anti-depressant meds. Most importantly, I am aware of the way I feel those few days so I know to expect it, and I can logically remind myself that I will stop feeling that way soon. Looking back, I realize that I've probably always had pretty bad PMS or PMDD. The birth control worsened it but it was also causing a lot of issues I wasn't aware of previously as well." —Katherine H., 22, Edmonds, WA

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"PMDD is out of control. I cry really easily for about a week. My biggest issue is that I am convinced that I am failing at everything—being a wife, a mom, work projects, fitness, my whole life! And even though it feels so real I constantly have to question if my feelings are valid or if they are amplified by my cycle. I just set an alert in my phone to remind me to consider my hormones the next time I feel that way." —Krysten B., 32, Toronto, CA

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"A week before my period, I become a complete psycho, completely unlike myself. I'm tearful, want to eat everything that's sweet or salty, have absolutely no tolerance for anything other than perfection, and prefer to be left completely alone. I already take an antidepressant but my PMDD was a complete nightmare so my doctor gave me Prozac to take for just 10 days a month. Basically, I start it when I start to get that irrational feeling and keeping taking it until my period starts. And that's just the emotional stuff. On the physical side, I have debilitating cramps, backaches, and headaches that last for days. Yep. I'm a peach." —Kristen L., 40, Knoxville, TN

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"In the past, PMDD almost made me suicidal and totally broke my spirit. Yes it wasthat bad. Every month. Eventually I got tired of being a 'crazy PMS woman' and decided I needed to fix this. Since I don't like to take pharmaceuticals, I branched out to homeopathic remedies and I discovered St. John's Wort and essential oils, especially clary sage and Doterra Calm-Its. It's a lot better now but I still have my hard days." —Amy S., 43, Zebulon, NC

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"My PMDD got so bad I had to go to a psychiatrist and be put on Prozac along with another antidepressant I was already taking. I was a mess—anxious, crying randomly over the smallest thing, and eating everything in sight. One example is someone made a YouTube mashup of the Age of Ultron trailers with Pinocchio footage and the 'I've got no strings on me' song and that wrecked me for weeks. Every time I thought about scenes from Pinocchio I would start panicking and crying at my work desk. It's been a few years and I'm better now. I'm off birth control and weening myself off the Prozac. I notice a week before my period I will sob during any sad part in a movie or book I'm reading, and a day or two before, I notice I'm more likely to be anxious." —Kate W., 36, Alaska

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"This has impacted my ability to work effectively. My pet peeve is when people say 'it must be close to your time of the month' when they simply don't like what I'm saying. I have run into that problem a lot at previous jobs and it makes it really hard to be taken seriously. It's bullshit because my feelings are valid regardless and also PMDD is not a joke. I am so lucky now to have a male boss who understands but it wasn't always that way. I have also have found a lot of relief with naturopathic and herbal remedies." —Amalia F., 28, Vancouver, Canada

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"My PMS was tolerable until my second child was born and then everything went off the rails. I'd be looking forward to plans with others, happy, and then about 10 to 14 days before my flow would start, my mood would turn on a dime. I'd be horrible—crying, screaming that ~nobody understands~, just so much emotional pain. I'd basically lock myself up in the bedroom for a full day to cry, get angry, and feel sorry for myself. It took three doctors before I finally found one who would listen to me before I was finally diagnosed with PMDD. I took Prozac for three years for it but it made me feel numb, like a zombie and not like myself. So I quit and my family just deals with me now. As I've gotten closer to menopause the PMDD is not as bad, but can be very unpredictable due to hormonal swings from perimenopause. The worst part now is I feel like my friendships have suffered. I always seem to have episodes around major holidays and events and I end up bumming everyone out if I do show up so I end up staying home a lot." —Colleen T., 50, St. Paul, MN

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"I'm overly emotional for the week before my period. Saying that makes it sound like it's not that bad but I get so distraught that my fiance has actually scheduled it in his phone as 'blood sport' to remind himself what's coming. I'm thankful that he's patient because I also feel like everyone hates me that week, too." —Kenlie T., 36, New Orleans, LA

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"All month long I'm fine and feel even and calm and then suddenly, the week before my period, I can't handle even the tiniest little thing. My irritability goes through the roof (which is not great since I have a 5-year-old) and I feel like I have no friends. It really makes me sad." —Jessica S., 28, Broomfield, CO

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"I know my period is coming because all of a sudden all of my joints hurt, especially my knees and ankles. I also get crazy gnarly cramps and once I even had a cyst that ruptured while I was on a date and the guy had to take me to the hospital! It was so embarrassing. Thankfully my husband now is very understanding when this time rolls around each month. The worst part is people who just think I make this stuff up. Some months are better than others and sometimes the pain is completely debilitating! My emotions are also a rollercoaster. Anytime I see something cute or inspiring, I burst into tears." —Ivie C., 21, Rexburg, ID

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"My PMDD manifests in both mental and physical symptoms. From the time I got my period at age 12, I've had extreme cramps and heavy bleeding. I'd leak at school through a super maxi pad every class so I'd tie sweatshirts around my waist and have to scrub my clothes when I got home. It was super humiliating. I'd have to take six to eight ibuprofen at a time to deal with cramps, and if I didn't I'd end up on the floor sweating like I had the flu. Sometimes I'd even throw up. This meant I ended up spending a lot of time sick in bathrooms and knew where every restroom was at all times. Birth control helped manage the PMDD and other issues, but as soon as I was done having kids, I had a hysterectomy. That was the best thing I've ever done." —Mandy P., 39, Mendon, UT

https://www.womenshealthmag.com/health/a19972132/premenstrual-dysphoric-disorder/

[popculturebuffet]

Prince of Wishful Thinking (Tom Retrospective): Tough Love or The True Monster

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Prince of Wishful Thinking, what is usually my look at the life and times of Tom Lucitor but since I NEED to cover the season 3 finale as vital part of Tom’s story, we’re taking one last look at the tragic tale of Meteora Butterfly before the finale sends these two stories hurtling together. You’d THINK this would be the last detour of this already sizeable arc.. and you’d be wrong as i’ll also be covering Kelly’s World, as I feel it’s vital for both “Curse of the Blood Moon” and “A Boy and his hard to remember title”, as it provides extra context for Marco’s anguish in the former.. and provides extra evidence for why a CERTAIN MOMENT in the latter pisses me off to no end.. seriously even when as universe dies and the only people left are Frankllin Richards and Galactus, there will still be a little note reading “Fuck how they treated Kelly” written in all caps so Galactus remembers to yell it. 

So sadly that DOES mean it’s been three entries in this retrospective in a row that either haven’t feature Tom at all or in the case of the last episode only had him in short cameos. I mean we did get his love affair for pie but we also got a creepy goblin man forcing his girlfriend and best friend to kiss each other, his best friend being WAY to eager to jump to that conclusion, and neither considering using Marco’s Scissors because the writers only remember he has those half the time in Season 3... and clearly I ddn’t either as I forgot to mention that plot hole, something @jess-the-vampire​ brought up to me. Sadly I DID forget to consult on this when we talked earlier this week , and she’s not online as I write this so I won’t have her insight for this one. 

But if you want some Tom content, i’m happy to share my crossover ship for the boy with you. I’ve been shipping him with Octavia from Helluva Boss lately.  Because of course it’s Helluva Boss, i’ve not been at all subtle with my obession with it and much like Letterkenny, X-Men and Dragon Ball Z Abriged it is a love I never plan to be subtle about. 

But I just think they compliment each other well: They have contrasting atittudes, and tastes in music, but seem like they’d share hobbies. Like taxidermy.. I could see Tom buying this... demonic combination of a badger, a skunk, a deer and my nightmares Octavia is preciously holding up.

Granted I also feel tom would both animate them with their dead souls.. and then use his new woodland friends of the dammned as a chorus to sing “Can You Picture That” from the Muppet Movie, because that’s what my mind does on a regular day. I think the contrasting attitude creates great chemstiry and it made me also realize I have a thing for ships with directly contrasting home lives.  Tom has two loving decent parents who deeply love one another and at worst simply didn’t reign in his worse behavior because it was standard for demon stuff. Octavia in contrast simply has two parents, one who DOES love her and tries his best, but his best includes calling his side piece “My big dicked blitzy” right in front of her and hiring said side piece to guard them, and her mother who clearly thinks so little of her daughter’s emotional well being she hired a cowboy to shoot her daddy dead in the middle of a large crowd. The point is I think they’d be adorable and they both badly need to be happy after being emotionally fucked over by people they care about. 

But  alas my new ship will have to wait as we marginally important things to get down too.. things that will impact both this season and the next’s endgame and utterly destroy Eclipsa and Moon’s relationship for good. Sound fun? Well if so join me under the cut won’t you?

We open in the Pidgeon Kingdom.. and things aren’t exactly great.. and by that I mean Meteora stomped a hole through it and ravaged the place and Rich demands blood.. and vengance.. and possibly blood vengance. But not Tekken Blood Vengance.. he already has like 5 copies of that on dvd. Still needs it on Blu Ray though, hook him up if you got it. 

So Moon and Eclipsa are trying to smooth this over/find out which way did she go George which way did she go, and are angrily dismissed after they try Rich’s patience, not helped by Eclipsa not being familiar with the Pidgeon Kingdom because they hadn’t slaughtered everyone who used to live there yet. Look that’s what happened, Star outright mentions in the Big Book of Spells that htey suddenly sprung up where another kingdom was and no one knows what happens. There was some bird murders up in that place.. or birdur if you will. Some birds drank some human blood. This is what Alfred Hitchock tried to warn us about with his film built on horrifying actress abuse. 

The point is with some more pidgeon-led murder stabbings on the cards our heroines are trying to find her since their attempts to convince Rich not to go on an Archer Style Rampage fell on deaf ears. 

But it’s clear from the second the two are alone both have diffrent priorties: Eclipsa desperatley wants to find the daughter she lost and talk her down from what sh’es become, help her become better and hopefuly heal from the pain she’s been in. She’s lost her husband, her kingdom and centuries. She can’t loose her baby girl too.

Moon on the other hand... clearly has no intrest in helping Meteora or stopping this peacefully. Her first thought is stopping Meteora. Her living through it is not necessary. It’s also clear her racisim isn’t REMOTELY gone depsite Buff Frog and Star’s best attempts and despite learning just how deeply and horribly Mewni’s engrained racism has hurt eclipsa and destoryed Moon’s own family history. To Moon this is just a big monster to fight.. i’ll dive into this more in a bit.

For now our heroines encounter an angry mob. This time their not here for Homer Simpson, but for Meteora as her rampages have destroyd their towns, livelehoods and given some weird guy a hat. It’s the best bit of the episode and i’m embarassed I forgot it happened. 

So with them being no help our queens back out but end up finding some actual help: Eddie! You know the guy from the episode I skipped over... River’s cousin or something like that. He dosen’t have a wiki entry, I do not know why. He’s voiced by Rhys Dharby of Flight of the Conchords Fame whose since made quite the career as a voice actor. No major roles yet that i’m aware of, but a lot of delightful minor ones like this. It’s good to see him he was one of the highlights of that show and not just because he sang this..

Eddie showed up in the Bog Beast of Boggabah and I honestly forgot he was in this episode.. but again, it’s Rhys Dharby. It’s not like suddenly finding out “Aw god dammit Pauly Shore is in this”. So Eddie agrees to help as he’s been tracknig Meteora.. and we find out something troubling: Meteora is getting BIGGER. Gradually, to the point the bog from said episode Is skipped over is drained because she DRANK IT. We also get a great exchange “I’d hate to see the size of her mother” “Actually her father more than helped with that”

Awwwww.... seriously Esme Blanco is a national treasure and has some great deliveries in this one.. and some heartbreaking ones. But before we can get to that it turns out Meteora sucked the powers out of Eddies family.. who he misses..e xcept one guy> That guy can fuck right off. Seriously Eddie is also a national treasure and I wish he’d shown up in season 4. I mean he couldn’t of HURT it. For one it’s Rhys Dharby and for another that season shot itself in the face, both feet, the groin and then the face again enough that I don’t think anything could hurt it as bad as the writers already did. 

But sadly we say farwell to Eddie as he goes out how men have since the begining of time.. deciding to poke a strange creature till it murdered him. Or took his soul out in this case, speaking of which...

Yeah while I couldn’t get Jess in time for this review, she did bring this up in the past: Meteora’s ablility to pull a 

Comes right the fuck out of nowhere with no build up and no explination for it. She DID drain personalites and according to this episode youth.. but that was with a big ole machine. It MIGHT have been intended to be one of Globgor’s powers.. but that makes zero sense, as if he COULD do that, as we saw with Toffee last season when he had that power, also out of nowhere but at least it made a touch more sense given his power was draining magical energy anyway at the time, so adding souls to that isn’t a huge stretch, but as we saw that would’ve been game over for the comission, especially since we DO see him fighting them one on three next season. If he had this power, he wouldn’t be in crystal and I think they realized that, but just tried to act as if his daugther COULDN’T do that and assumed everyone would casually forget. And I get not accounting for me writing about this years later, even I wouldn’t of thought that, but not counting on fans both young and old to latch onto a continuity error? Have you met fandoms Disney, have you? It dosen’t bring the story down entirely and I get WHY ti’s there, so she can nonlethally kill people so we’re not down most of the cast for Season 4, but it feels like an easy win button and one she barely uses despite it being eye beam activated. It should be easy enough to pull, boom, soul suck, win, rinse and repeat. It’s okay to have uber powerful tequniques but they have to have a drawback. For instance the Kaioken from DBZ. It’s a really damn cool technique that gives the user a neat red aura and amplifies poewr.. but the more you amplify the more strain it puts on your body and the more likely you’ll die, and Super later creatively explained why it hadn’t been used since Super Sayian was introduced because said form would’ve sped it up so much it’d be too much for a body to take. Here whie Meteora dosen’t use it in EVERY fight, she uses it enough that it makes no sense this isn’t just her first move for every fight she gets into, mental breakdown or not. 

That being said Meteora’s current mental state as she talks to her mother, having regressed to talking in only a few words and acting like a child, makes perfect sense. Henious already wasn’t in great mental shape to begin with, having a slow sustained breakdown since Marco overthrew her. and now on top of this she remembers her whole life has been a lie, starts to mutate into her natural state at a rapid and likely unehalthy pace, and then finds out on top of all of this Mewni is rightfully owed to her. Given she ended last episode blowing a guy up for rejecting her, it’s not a stretch that given even more power and no time to process anything, Metora would deteroate further. 

Esme and Jessica really knock this scene out of the park as Eclipsa presents Metora with her old doll Bobo and gently trying ot talk to her.. but you also get the fear Eclipsa feels as she tries to awkardly manuver around the fact her daughter is far more unhinged than she was prepared for, even threanting Eclipsa simply because Eclipsa wanted to be called mother instead of mommy. But despite this fear.. Eclipsa wants to help and Walter beautifuly captured metoera as a hulk like tragic figure:a being with low sanity and too much power desperate to be loved by the one person it cares about. And it makes it even more heartbreaking as Eclipsa explains what happened: bad people trapped her , a disfunctoinal society with a racist queen and even more racist subjects has taken hold in her absence... and it’s clear both want opposite things: Meteora wants what sh’es owed, her family back on the throne and Mewni back in her graps, but has lost herself so much to rage, anger and insanity she can’t see it’s not hers to take, while Eclipsa.. just wants her daughter back. She’d be happy just settling down with her and having a LIFE after hers was taken away. Eclipsa just wants a chance to be with what family she has left. It just HURTS to know that despite RIGHTFULLY hating the comission, despite having eveyr reason to take the crown from Moon by force and make the world better by force.. she dosen’t want that. She just wants some peace. It’s selfish... but it’s hard not to be when you havealmost nothing to hold onto. Eclipsa has lost her legacy, her husband and her crown... Meteora is all she has and all she wants and sh’ed of been happy if she just accepted that. If that was enough. 

But the real telling part, and the thing that ultimately makes this go as bad as it does.. is Moon’s reactions to all of this. Sh’es CONFUSED by Meteora having a toy as if that’s foreign to her a monster would, and she’s cleaerly livid , if restrianing it, at both Meteora’s deire for the crown and Eclipsa RIGHTFULLY calling out the state of how things are, and mildly at that. Despite seeing how much damage Mewni’s inherent racisim has done, how it lead to her living a lie, ruined Eclipss, Globgore and Metora’s lives, despite how DESPERTLY her daughter struggles to fight against it, despite seeing firsthand that Monsters can have famiies and lives... she can’t let it go. She can’t see monsters as people. SHe dosen’t see a flawed person who was turned into a metpohrical monster by years of brainwashing and abuse and is slowly unravling under the weight of her true self.. she just sees a threat to her kingdom. She dosen’t see her kingdom as racist, just as it should be. And she dosen’t see herself as stepping down like hse damn well should���ve the MOMENT she found out everything. Because at her heart Moon can’t accept the truth and clings to her racisim. 

And that my friends.. is what ultimately leads to Tragedy. Not Meteora’s unraveling mental state, not Eclipsa’s naitvite. What happens next is ENITRELY Moon’s fault. Whle Eclipsa was failing to get through to Metora, she was trying her best and might of gotten somewhere.. but Moon was already settling to attack.. and does so, making it look like Eclipsa set her own child up. 

A fight ensues, a suprisingly even one... but Eclipsa breaks it up and PROVES her way could’ve worked. In one of Esme’s best performances sshe tearfully tells her daughter she loves her.. that ALL she wants is time with her to make up for what she’s lost.. she dosen’t need a kingdom or her crown or her wand, all things she DESERVES... she just wants her daughter. She just wants to help her baby girl before she goes so far down this path of hatred and vengance she’s alreayd well trod upon there is no point to return to. 

It gets through to Meteora, makes her stop... and Moon TAKES ADANTAGE OF THAT. She then restrains metoera with a magical rock barrier and starts palpatineing her to death. It’s a horrifying moment that ultimately shows who Moon really is.. that when given the chance to let Meteora go, let her CHANGE and grow as a person and help the kingdom.. she instead tries to kill her. When she’s no longer a threat,  hasn’t seriously hurt her in their fight, and could use her power to RESTORE the damage she’s done, fix what she’s broken and help the kingdom grow and mend the bridges racisim has torn down. But all she can see is a monster, and something to destroy.. not someONE to save. 

So Eclipsa does what Moon would do if it were star about to die and saves her daughter, desperatly trying to stop mooon.. and allowing Meteora to get a clear shot and take half of moon’s soul. While Eclipsa is able to stop her from taking the full thing, Moon is left disoreinted and half alive and leaves on insticnt to parts unknown while Meteora escapes. Eclipsa is left alone, devistated and with her daughter truly lost. And the worst is truly yet to come. 

Before we get into final thoughts i’d like to talk about how this scene impacts Moon’s betryal later. To me having rewatched this scene.. it only makes it work MORE making it clear Moon simply can’t fahtom racial equality and that she can’t fahtom that eclipsa had very good reason for doing what she did ... to me it comes off as her using Eclipsa betryaing her as a very flimsy justifcation to not validate her rule and to first retire and then try a coup. That “Well she “BETRAYED” me so i’m fine. “ But in truth... she betrayed Eclipsa first. She attacked her daughter TWICE when Eclipsa was close to getting through to her Her reasons are flimsy.. because i’ts not ABOUT eclipsa, but what eclipsa represents: equality with a race Moon dosen’t see as people. It’s about Moon’s racisim coloring everything tills h’es truly blinded and should have lost everything She didn’t because the ending is a fucking disgrace, but we might get to that at some point, the point here is for all that disgrace’s faults... it did get it right here, and Moon was always portrayed as being unable to let go of her racisim no matter what it cost her or how much her daughter despteratly tried to change her. Trust me as someone whose Dad used to argue that gay marriage meant he should be able to marry his cat, and who still argues against trans people using the bathroom of their choice, I get trying desperatley to change someone who don’t wanna. “Sigh”. 

Final Thoughts: This episode is truly excellent. The writing is top notch as is the voice acting for all involved and the climax isa true, well led up to tragedy. The animation is also on point, with the characters emotions on perfect display. This is an episode I now realize is one of the series best and worth ar ewatch if you haven’ts een it. Truly amazing stuff that gets me pumped for the finale.. and disapoints me in how the series could reach these highs for one finale.. but would sink to it’s lowest point for next seasons.  Next Time on Prince of Wishful Thinking: Star tries depseratly to find her mom, while Marco, Tom and a motely crew of misfits try to take down Meteora and Tom learns the awful truth from the photo booth and wears a zuko ponytail which weirdly looks good on him. That boy can rock anything let me tell you. 

If you enjoyed this reviews, please consider joining my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. As mentioned my 30 dollar stretch goal includes a review of the cluster fuck that is the series final arc, and the goals up to that , me making 20 and 25 dollars a month repectively, have their own nifty rewards: At 20 i’ll review Darkwing Duck once a month, the two remaning Ducktales 87 mini series I have not covered and the Danny Phantom film The Ultimate Enemy. 25 meanwhile gets you reviews of the Proud Family Movie, the theatrical recess movie and the Kim Possible almost finale movie so the drama. And 30 also gets you reviews of every episode of gravity falls season 1 at least one a month till I finish it at some point, so as you can see you get a lot of bang for your buck and these reviews will be public for everybody. Not only that but joining my patreon gets you a review a month if you pitch in 5 dollars and evne if you can’t swing THAT much just 2 bucks gets you access to my discord, a guarnateed pick in my shorts, votes for patreon exclusive reviews, and SAID patreon exclusive reviews. It’s a lot of bang for your buck is what i’m saying so please help me out so I can make a living off this and sign up today. I even JUST ADDED an exclusive and utterly insane scrooge mcduck review, The Great Wig Mystery. So throw in a buck to check that out. 

And if your intrested in Tomtavia... please hit me up. I’m really proud of it and until then... i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

[vrednic]

COLLATERAL DAMAGE (PT. 2)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: After Scott refuses to join his pack, Peter Hale turns Serena McCall into a werewolf. Will her transformation be for better… or for worse?

Word Count: 3,285

Author’s Note: This series will skim the events of seasons 1-3. I have a lot of content planned, so there will be some skipping around at certain points, but it will all work in unison, I promise! I hope you all enjoy part 2! Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE IS HERE. *

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Werewolves.

The topic of lycanthropy was one I hadn’t visited since freshman year english. I thought back to the unit of Greek mythology, and how we had been assigned research projects on famous Greek myths. My english teacher gave us the liberty to choose our own myths, and I had naively chosen Lycaon of Arcadia. Lycaon, the king of Arcadia, attempted to trick Zeus into eating human flesh, testing to see if he was truly all-knowing. Angered by Lycaon’s blasphemous actions, Zeus punished Lycaon by turning him into a wolf.

Oh, the irony of it all.

For the past three weeks, I have been given gradual insight into the world of the supernatural. The full moon was fast-approaching, and I needed to learn everything I could as quickly as possible. I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about my transformation. I was amazed at how quickly I began noticing changes. Overnight, it seemed, my senses had been dialed up to a thousand. I was stronger, faster, and more confident. I could smell, hear, and sense things other people couldn’t. One of the most fascinating things about my newfound abilities was that my body’s healing process was nearly instantaneous. The only downside of it was that I had yet to experience the brutality of the full moon. I was afraid that I would see things differently after, that I’d realize that I’d never be able to control it. Would my supernatural powers really be worth being enslaved to an insatiable bloodlust every month? Would it be worth putting my friends and loved ones at risk, especially when one slip-up could mean death for any and all of them?

I had been training tirelessly with Scott every day since I was bitten. Before school, after school, and during free periods. He had effectively taught me how to make my claws appear and disappear at will, how to partially shift into my werewolf form, how to follow scents, how to decipher chemo-signals, and how to trigger the healing process of an injury using pain. I was impressed with my progress, but I knew that I had only been exposed to bits and pieces of the extensive supernatural spectrum that I was now a part of. I had always been good at the technical side of things, so I knew that learning the basics of lycanthropy wasn’t going to be an issue. I considered myself to be on the smart side-- I had no problem displaying resourcefulness or creativity or administering critical thinking in complex situations. One thing I wasn’t very good at, however, was regulating my emotions.

When our parents got divorced, Scott and I handled things very differently. He was always a mama’s boy, and I was a daddy’s girl. Our father was an alcoholic and a cheater; something I knew all too well, but was also something I wanted to remain oblivious to. I’m assuming this realization is what made it easier for Scott to hate him, to be okay with moving on without him. It was harder for me to cope with his absence because our dad had always been my rock -- my hero --  and I couldn’t picture him ever hurting anyone. Especially me.

The night my mom kicked my dad out of the house for good, he had come home drunk. He instigated an argument with her over something, as usual. But with them it was never just an argument; it always ended up with them screaming at each other. Scott and I shared a room back then, and it was located right by the staircase, which was where they happened to be arguing that night. Not surprisingly, their heated voices turned into shouts, and we were both awoken. We peered through a crack in the door as our parents fought. My dad could barely keep his balance; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes crazy, violent words spewing from his mouth fueled by intoxication. I remembered vividly how he had lost his composure and grabbed my mother by the neck, slamming her against the wall. I let out an audible gasp and stood frozen in horror. Scott flung the door open and rushed into the hall, immediately wedging himself between our mother and father. My dad grabbed Scott’s arm, attempting to pull him out of the way, but yanked my brother with too much force. He was flung against the railing of the staircase, and he tumbled down the stairs. He was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs for maybe 30 seconds, and when he came to, he didn’t remember a thing. My mother ushered us back into our room and put us into bed. I fell asleep crying that night, but I didn’t know exactly for whom I was crying. Had it been for my brother? Had it been for my mother? For the loss of my dad? Or was it for me?

I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to him. I woke up the following morning, expecting him to be there, bags in tow, waiting to talk to us one last time. But he was already gone. I knew he didn’t deserve it, but I couldn’t help but miss him. When the plea for divorce was initiated, there was never a discussion about shared custody or visitations. Once the divorce was finalized, I knew that he was never coming back. It was because of his betrayal and abandonment that I grew up with issues when it came to trusting people. I was filled with this deep, aching feeling of isolation, and it made me angry. Very. As I grew older, I got better at suppressing it, but I knew that somewhere deep down, it was still there. With the full moon prodding and poking at my resolve and self control, I knew it was only a matter of time before those feelings resurfaced.

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The day of my first full moon, I felt the effects as soon as I got out of bed in the morning. I felt my heartbeat rising with every breath that I took. When I got to school, my senses immediately began to feel overstimulated. Everything was brighter, louder, and more jarring. The sound of the bell ringing made me feel like someone was hammering nails into my skull. The people I passed in the hallway blurred together, all of their emotions and scents hitting me like a door to  the face. At lunch, the sound of people’s voices and laughter made me want to tear their heads off. I looked around the cafeteria, feeling myself grow angrier and angrier, for seemingly no reason at all. Rationally, I knew that these people had done nothing wrong. Emotionally, they were the piece of gum stuck under my shoe. My gaze locked on Jackson Whittemore, and I fantasized about how good it would feel to tear his tongue right out of his head. He had always been an asshole to my brother, so why shouldn’t I kill him? It would be extremely satisfying to watch the smug look on his face disappear as I stood over him, my hands drenched in his blood, as I began to tear him limb from limb…

“Uh, Serena? Are you okay?”

Scott’s voice brought me back to reality. I was suddenly overcome with anxiety as I realized the vile intrusive thoughts that I was just experiencing. What was the matter with me? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a killer. Only, maybe that wasn’t exactly true anymore.

I nodded, fabricating a smile. “Yeah, no, everything’s great. I was just thinking about my research paper for… biology. It’s due tomorrow and I have no clue where to start.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “But remember that it’s perfectly okay for you to be feeling on edge today. It’s your first full moon and I promise nobody will blame you for not feeling or acting like yourself.”

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease ever-so-slightly. I nodded once more, reassuring him that I was in fact okay. I felt better knowing that out of all of the things that had changed, our sibling bond hadn’t. He’d be there with me to make me feel safe and to teach me control. Before long, I would be able to be just like him. I trusted him, and I knew he had faith in me. That meant only one thing: I had to have faith in me too.

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Later in the evening, as the sun was setting, I began feeling the effects of the full moon amplifying. My heartbeat was nearly erratic and Scott was nowhere to be found. I was in the bathroom, standing over the sink and looking at myself in the mirror. There was a flicker of golden yellow in my eyes, and I nearly sobbed out of pure anxiety alone. I balled my hands into fists, trying to focus on anything other than the impending sense of dread that I was experiencing. I felt a warm, slippery substance course down my wrist. Blood.

I opened my fist up, revealing four deep punctures on both of my palms, where my claws had dug into. The temporary flicker of pain was small, but enough to bring me out of the frenzy. I took this opportunity to set out to find Scott.

I didn’t remember the way to the Hale house all too well, but what I did remember was its scent. The smell of charred wood and smoke would be very hard to miss. I maneuvered my way through the darkness, making sure every step I took was careful and calculated. Scott had mentioned that Beacon Hills Preserve was littered with traps set by hunters. It was also a full moon, so I knew there would not be any shortage of hunters roaming around town tonight, hoping to catch and kill their next supernatural victim.

As if on cue, I heard voices from a distance. By the sound of it, there were maybe four or five of them, all men. I swallowed, trying to think of an escape plan. I couldn’t run. It was fall, and the weight of my body against the leaves on the ground would give my location away immediately. I could have hidden, but I knew that they probably had some sort of a thermographic camera. If they happened to get me in one of the shots, I would have considered myself dead.

I tried to weigh any and all other options, but I had none. The best chance at escape that I had right now was simply to run. They sounded far away enough so that even if they did hear me, my superhuman speed would give me an advantage. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and began moving. I tried to keep to the shadows, not daring to make any unnecessary sounds. I noticed too late that I had no idea where I was going. I looked around me, but I couldn’t pinpoint any familiar landmarks. I could have sworn that I was heading back in the direction I came, but judging by my surroundings, that wasn’t the case. I stopped for a moment, attempting to gather my thoughts.

“Come on, Serena,” I whispered to myself. “Think.”  

I was jolted away from my thoughts when I saw a red light from my peripheral vision. I was frozen, completely unsure what to do. More red lights emerged from the darkness, pointing straight at me. Lasers. It was then that instinct spoke to me, telling me to run. And that’s exactly what I did.

I turned on my heel and bolted away from where the hunters had been. I didn’t take the time to care about the tracks or the noise I left in my wake. I had the advantage of speed, but they had the advantage of knowledge and experience. These were professional killers. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew what move I’d make next even before I did. Through the commotion, I almost forgot why I had been in the woods in the first place. The fury of the full moon hit me, unforgiving. It was as if she allowed me only a few moments of peace before the storm. I looked up at the sky and the moon glimmered at its peak. Almost instantaneously I was overcome with an animalistic urge to go back and rip the head off of every single hunter that was on my trail.

My claws and fangs appeared as if by magic, and my eyes were aglow. I felt angry-- so angry. But it was that anger that gave me power. I felt strong… unstoppable. Against all rational thought, I turned back around, using my infrared eyes to see through the darkness. A few rows of trees ahead was where I spotted them. Two of them were kneeled down, examining the tracks that I had left behind, judging the direction I must have taken. The other three were behind them, standing guard. They looked around, weapons drawn, ready to fire at any given moment.

I growled. It was a sound that conveyed equal parts rage and purpose. I was hiding behind a tree, looking for the perfect moment to attack. Just as I was about to launch myself in their direction, a pair of hands snagged me from behind with tremendous force. Before I could growl or scream, the person used one hand to cover my mouth and tucked me against his chest, making sure our bodies were still shielded by the tree. I tipped my head back to see who it was, and was met with the fiery gaze of Derek Hale.

He broke eye contact first and peered over my head, trying to come up with an escape tactic. His stone cold composure made it clear that it wasn’t his first time evading death by the hands of werewolf hunters. I, on the other hand, was terrified. I felt an equal amount of shame and embarrassment once I realized how foolish I had been. It was a night of the full moon and I wasn’t in control, for one. I also felt extremely stupid for walking into woods that were infested with hunters; ones that wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between my eyes. Another shame-inducing component was the fact that Derek just had to be the one to find me. I had gotten a brief description of him from Scott, so I knew that he was hardcore. He also hated liabilities, and at the moment, that’s exactly what I was.

“Now’s not the time to wallow in shame,” he whispered to me, his voice gruff. “If you hadn’t noticed, they’ve got us completely surrounded. It’s a miracle they haven’t seen us yet.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Don’t bother denying it. The smell of embarrassment is rolling off of you like a stench.”

Your commentary isn’t exactly helping, I wanted to say to him. But I knew better than to push his buttons, especially when we were on the brink of being discovered. I kept my back against the tree, waiting for further instructions. After a few minutes, Derek finally spoke again.

He lowered his mouth next to my ear, his warm breath sending a tingling sensation onto my neck and down my back. “On my signal, you run. I’ll stay behind and cause a distraction so you can get away.” He pointed behind him to another row of trees. “Run that way. Get out of the woods as fast as you can.”

Before I could get a word out, he was gone. He roared loudly, capturing the attention of the hunters that resided a few yards away. As they ran to him, he turned back to look at me, flashing his icy blue eyes. That was my cue. I took off running in the direction he had said. I heard the commotion of the fight almost the entire way. Growls and roars from Derek’s end were met with the sound of guns firing. I found myself secretly hoping that he would be okay, although in the back of my mind I knew he would be. He was Derek Hale, after all.

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I made it out of the preserve after only a handful of minutes of running. At the end of the treeline, right where the road started, a vehicle’s headlights cut through the darkness. The closer I got, the more details I could make out. It was a blue 1980 Jeep CJ5. Standing beside it were two silhouettes, both male. I let out a sigh of relief.

I jogged the rest of the way and launched myself into Scott’s arms. He squeezed me tightly and ushered me into the Jeep. Stiles drove onto the road, taking the route that led back to my house. Scott turned to look at me from the passenger’s seat.

“Why the hell were you in the woods?” He asked. His tone was firm but still held a touch of delicacy. We both knew it was more for my sake than his. “Didn’t I tell you about the hunters? The preserve is not a safe place for a werewolf on a night of a full moon. Argent and his hunters have memorized every square inch of those woods. You’re lucky Derek found you when he did. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Gerard would’ve turned you into a human kebab by now.”

I felt my throat tighten in frustration. “The imagery really isn’t necessary. I know what I did was stupid, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like I was losing control and you weren’t there, Scott!” My voice caught on his name, and I had to take a few moments to collect myself. “You weren’t there and, quite frankly, I have no one else to turn to on this. I don’t have a best friend like yours. I don’t have one that’ll pick up my call in the middle of the night and be willing to be a part of the world of the supernatural. I don’t have a best friend who’ll chain me up on a full moon and help me find restraint. I was all alone in my home, which I could have easily torn apart if I had lost control of myself tonight. I was counting on you to help me, and you weren’t there.”

The air was thick with tension. I could sense the sadness emanating from both Scott and Stiles. I felt guilty for taking all of my frustration out on my brother, but everything I said was true, and I wasn’t going to apologize for how I felt. Scott was a natural leader, and I admired that about him. Being a leader meant taking on responsibilities, and I understood that he wouldn’t be around all the time. Over the weeks following my transformation, I got a chance to see just how much people needed him.  Peter wanted him in his pack. Derek wanted him as an ally. Stiles wanted him as a best friend. Hell, even the lacrosse team needed him as team captain. But tonight was the one night that I needed him. I needed my brother, and he wasn’t there.

“I’m so sorry, Serena. I can do better, I promise. If you’ll just let me--” he began.  

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk. Just take me home.”

With that, I turned to face the window, looking at the blur of lights, cars, houses, and dark, desolate streets passing me by. Scott sighed, but he didn’t protest.

We rode in silence the entire way back.

TAGS

@broco8

[ofcloudsandstars]

November Magical Dates and Astrological Transits

Welcome to the deep darkness of the year. November we get plunged into the dark quarter getting us in our hibernation mode and focusing on the realms within. It's a great time of the year for magic in the household (known and tagged sometimes as Cottage Witchcraft: witchcraft encompassing magic indoors, in your bedroom, kitchen witchcraft, bath witchcraft, cleansing and crafting etc.), shadow work and resting. It's also a great time to take up a hobby craft as you can focus your creations and learning on gifts for Yule to come.

This month is nearly nested between two Full Moons but the previous full moon reached opposition on the 31st so technically the moon at the end of November is not a Blue moon. However the moon at the end of November is a Blood Moon meaning it's a Full Moon Eclipse that will cast the moon in a red shadow. The themes of this month will take us through Scorpio's shadowy introspective period helping us to understand where our energy and sense of freedoms may be repressed then optimistic Sagittarius season helping us to focus on our dreams and how we can work towards manifesting them. There are a lot of surprises coming with dynamic Uranus in retrograde influencing a lot of planets which will lead up to the full moon eclipse no doubt bringing a lot of changes and sudden endings that no one can predict. Get ready for your life to be upgraded!

1st - ☾♉ Samhain  🎃 Mercury rx in Libra squares Saturn in Capricorn

We will still be under the influence of the full moon as it's in mid-transit in Taurus. Today Mercury rx in Libra will square Saturn in Capricorn bringing up themes of restriction and our mental barriers. With mercury in retrograde it's a good time to reflect on how these mental barriers can hold us back and why we feel oppressed by them. Especially since Samhain is a good time for shadow work and overcoming mental obstacles, it's a good day for meditation and introspection on how we may harbor negative beliefs that keep us imprisoned. (Especially in regards to our relationships, coworkers and authority). With the full moon conjunct Uranus RX we may have gotten themes of material or superficial things that we value that could either be restricting our freedoms or holding us back. The next day with the Mercury rx square with Saturn we will dive further into our subconscious to focus on our mental blocks and restrictions. Since Samhain is a good day for shedding and letting go this is great energy to reflect on and release for our personal freedoms to emerge. Take a moment today to write down what you'd like to free in yourself. You will see later on it will help ;)

Additionally Blessed Samhain!

Week 2 - 8

2nd - ☾♊ Moon enters Gemini

When the moon is in Gemini it’s a good time for taking in new information, studying magic or writing in your grimoire, using binural beats in magic, meditation or trance or doing air based magic.

3rd - ☾♊ Mercury Direct in Libra

Mercury finally stations direct today! It will still have it's moment of grogginess so still expect delays and some missed communication, but things will finally start moving forward. Take the time to reflect on what you have learned during this retrograde period and how you will apply it to your life moving forward. Though Mercury will be moving forward, it's still a time for rest, hibernation and reflection. Don't feel the need to hit the ground running or be surprised when everything still feels groggy and introspective. This is the dark quarter of the year and time to hibernate.

4th - ☾♋ Moon enters Cancer

When the moon is in Cancer it’s a good time for magic around the home such as cleaning and cleansing, kitchen magic and bath magic. It’s a great time for self-care rituals and water-based magic. The theme of burrowing and hibernation will feel amplified today as the moon is in it's home sign.

5th - ☾♋ Disseminating Moon | Moon in Cancer Trines Sun

The waning gibbous moon is a great time for taking stock of your progress during this lunar cycle and celebrating any little successes you’ve managed to accomplish so far no matter how small. You can reflect on all that you have worked through and learned through retrograde and the insights that the full moon has given you. It’s a lovely vibe for socializing, spreading generosity or just taking the moment to enjoy life. When the moon trines the sun it’s a harmonious time that brings a lot of luck. When you take stock and realize that you may not be where you’d like, then it’s a good time to catch up on work to help you out or do magic to bring opportunities for doors to open for you. Celebrate at home with the moon in Cancer and make your personal space feel special by burning nice scented candles, changing bedsheets and getting really cozy. 

 6th - ☾♋ Mercury in Libra squares Saturn in Capricorn

Time for another Mercury and Saturn square, except Mercury is now direct! This is when I suggested you should write down any themes the last square brought up on Samhain as you may get stronger clarity now on what you need to let go in order to liberate yourself mentally. As all squares operate, it's not a good time for action, yet reflection and meditation. Wherever you feel mentally blocked, reflect on it, write it down, meditate on it and do some divination if you are feeling stuck.

7th - ☾♌  Autumn’s Crossquarter Moon enters Leo

Today is also when the Sun is 15 degrees in Scorpio making it the official Crossquarter of Autumn. This is a period of shedding, cleansing and banishing along with tying up any loose ends before going into hibernation. This is the official end to Samhaintide. 

8th - ☾♌ Last Quarter Moon in Leo

The themes of reflection and introspection carry on with the Last Quarter moon in Leo. The Last Quarter moon is a good time for reflecting on the lunar cycle that past and the lessons we have learned. It's a good day for meditation, mindfulness, gratitude and reviewing the past. The lunar cycle begun on a Libra new moon so you can take the themes of introspection today on what you have learned in regards to what resonates with your heart, the value you put on relationships, your money, material wealth and partnerships and what is truly important/resonates with you vs. what is holding you back. Leo rules the heart so this is a good day to be honest with yourself and seek out what makes you free and what is in your best interests.

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Week 9 - 15

9th - ☾♍ Venus in Libra opposite Mars rx in Aries Moon enters Virgo

You may find some clarity today on the inner work you could have done yesterday with the last quarter moon as Venus in Libra transits opposite Mars rx in Aries. Previous injustices regarding relationships of all kinds could come up now from the past. Repressed anger or desires could emerge that may feel shocking but could be clarifying on the pain experienced or how you could have created barriers to protect yourself yet in turn these same walls became a mental prison. As the moon and season is in decline it's good to reflect on these themes and release what's no longer needed. With the moon entering Virgo you will have a more clear headed approach to your introspection. With the opposition it's a good time to release the built up tension in healthy ways in any physical activity from exercise to dance. This energy could also show you where you may feel lacking in terms of your relationship dynamics or self confidence. It's not a time to act yet but to reflect and observe. Write down any insights in your journal to review later.

10th - ☾♍ Balsamic Moon | Moon Sextiles Sun Mercury enters Scorpio Sun in Scorpio trines Neptune rx in Pisces

Mercury enters Scorpio today! We can re-enter our dark underworlds now with a bit of introspection from what the retrograde has bought. Mercury in Scorpio brings two weeks of deep intense thought, diving to the core of the truths shrouded by darkness and uncovering ours and others shadows. With the moon in it's balsamic phase (waning crescent), it's a time to wrap up loose ends of this lunar cycle and depart from anything no longer serving us. If there are things in our lives such as people or physical materials that no longer align with our values, we should find ways to distant ourselves or banish them. It's also a good time to do some deep house cleaning and throw out anything old that we've been holding on to without realizing (as I type this, there are 3 large plastic water bottles in the corner of my vision I use for watering my plants which I only need 1 of haha). With the Sun trining Neptune rx this can highlight what our dreams are for ourselves or the future. Now is a time to pay attention to our dreams and day dreams to see where deep subconscious desires lie that may be brought out by Mars's retrograde and Mercury now in Scorpio. The Sun and Neptune Rx transit also heightens our sensitivity and empathy towards others. This can help us connect with our sense of spirituality from within.

11th - ☾♎ Moon enters Libra

When the moon is in Libra it’s a good time for attraction magic (friendship/coworkers/partners - all kinds), glamours and charms, love based magic and harmonizing spells.

12th - ☾♎ Jupiter conjunct Pluto in Capricorn

Today will feel powerful and intense as the expansive Jupiter conjuncts intense Pluto in Capricorn. We will feel focused and driven to succeed and with a mix of intense effort with good luck, we will have teh boost to make a big difference anywhere we focus on energy towards on this day. This is powerful energy to not let go by so mark this day on your calendar. It is important to think about what you want to do during this prosperous phase. Ventures regarding business success, abundance, travel or career can get a boost of positivity during this time if used well. However focus your energy on either spiritual self-development or success for your genuine benefit and not more power or control over others (especially those already in power). Anyone with power already can get a boost during this time so if you challenge them you can face those powers against you. Therefore focus on your success and if it's in a circumstance even where your success lies in another person relinquishing power over you then maybe use this energy to escape from their influence, but don't challenge anyone directly.

This is a great day for action but if you want to do spell work then try barrier-breaking magic where you can break through obstacles to gain what you need.

13th - ☾♏ Moon enters Scorpio

Today is Friday the 13th! It's a magical day celebrating Venus and the divine femme! It's been warped by modern day society to be evil or whatever, but Friday the 13th is a fun time to be spooky, get up to shenanigans, do love attraction magic and fool around. Especially in honor of Venus, Friday the 13th is a fun day to dress up very mystical or witchy just for the sake of it. Today will feel extra spooky and intense with the moon entering Scorpio. When the moon is in Scorpio it's a good time for shadow work, energy based magic, scrying, blood and sex magic.

14th - ☾♏ Mars direct in Aries Sun in Scorpio sextiles Pluto and Jupiter in Capricorn

GOT DAMN Mars is FINALLY Direct. Finally.. woof.. It's over. Though it will still be in it's groggy phase we may already feel motivated and ready to move forward after that lengthy period of introspection and reflecting on our inner motivations and drive. Energy may feel more free-flowing from now on and we may feel more inclined to act. This energy will be amplified by the Sun sextiling both Pluto and Jupiter in Capricorn helping us to work through anything. This will help us succeed in our goals and aspirations and especially in the realms of our work or careers. You will feel the energy to hit the ground running and it's a good time to wrap up projects or strive for what you need during these prosperous transits.

15th - ☾♏ New Moon in Scorpio Venus in Libra squares Pluto in Capricorn Moon enters Sagittarius

A new lunar cycle begins! The moon in Scorpio will bring themes of our liberation again with it being opposite Uranus rx and how we need to connect with ourselves on a soul level to understand where we have been stripped of our power. This theme will be amplified by Venus in a square with Pluto. We may be more aware today of how we can be controlled in our relationships as power and control issues may arise. There can also be emotions tied to not feeling loved or valued come to the surface or worse, be buried deep within but be the motivation behind acting out or seeking control. If you are feeling these negative feelings you should look within to seek out what you need to change in order to make yourself feel more free and more valued and how you can commit yourself to these changes during this new Lunar Cycle. Especially in transformative Scorpio, this New Moon is looking to make a change.

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Week 16 - 22

16th - ☾♐ Venus in Libra squares Jupiter in Capricorn

So Venus and Jupiter squares are not like many other. Squares tend to bring frustration or restrictions that may make us feel blocked and forced to reflect on our obstacles. However Jupiter squares creates another type of obstacle which is excess. Sometimes too much of a good thing can easily lead us astray. With the Venus and Jupiter square we can easily blow a lot of money accidentally on a shopping spree or spend way too much on take out or any other forms of gluttony. You should be especially wary if substances come involved. Moderation is key with this transit and we can easily go overboard if we aren't careful, especially since the moon is transiting Sagittarius. If we do feel inclined we should reflect on the root reasons why we want to over indulge instead of feeding the need. This way less damage is done. If you do want to go out, give yourself a budget so you don't over do it.

17th - ☾♑ Mercury in Scorpio opposite Uranus rx in Taurus Venus in Libra opposite Chiron rx in Aries Moon enters Capricorn

Today may feel hectic but there is opportunity for healing if you pay attention. The two major transits here are Mercury opposite Uranus rx and Venus opposite Chiron rx. With the Mercury and Uranus rx opposition we may be faced with obstacles that may change our plans and scatter our minds. This is not a good day to make plans or agree on deals but just to let our minds wander and not be restricted. This is a day that can bring great insight and epiphanies to how we relate to ourselves as an individual and understand our freedom. It's a better day to reflect and seek to understand ourselves then move forward. Additionally with Venus opposite Chiron rx we may be confronted with painful emotions revolving around our relationships and past trauma or pain. With the two transits together we can be confronted with external obstacles or events that could make us aware of our limitations, freedom, lack of individuality or authenticity and how that pain or boundary could have stemmed from toxic relationships from the past. Though it's potentially a lot of pain to work through, it's a day that can bring insight on how to move forward from it.

18th - ☾♑   Moon in Capricorn

With the moon in Capricorn, it’s a good time for organization, addressing our tasks and responsibilities, ancestor magic, earth and mineral based magic.

19th - ☾♒ Waxing Crescent | Sun Sextiles Moon Sun in Scorpio sextiles Saturn in Capricorn Venus in Libra squares Saturn in Capricorn Moon enters Aquarius

While the moon is still in Capricorn, it will sextile the Sun in Scorpio bringing a boost of positive energy that can help us take on any task. This is a great part of the lunar cycle to look back on the intentions you've set for the new moon and start exploring new ways to incorporate what your intentions were into your life. This could look like you signing up for a new class or experimenting with something new. It's a great time for seeking out new ventures, experimentation and learning. With the moon's energy in Capricorn there would be a boost in the areas of work where you can explore new open positions at work or switching up your schedule and seeing how that suits your work life balance better (especially in regards to the new moon theme and if that allows you to have more freedom.) The Sun will also sextile Saturn in Capricorn giving us a positive boost in our work ethic. We will find tasks much easier to complete today and feel more responsible. It's a great day to get your to-do list checked off and confront whatever long-term "to-do's" that you may have (like renewing that license for example). Venus in Libra will also square Saturn in Capricorn bringing the positive mood down a little as we may feel restricted by some of our relationships or unable to really act upon our values due to barriers or obstacles that block us from being our true selves. The energy today is pretty free-flowing to make changes in your life so if you are feeling that restriction maybe you can look into how you can shift things around like your work schedule or try new things to feel less blocked.

20th - ☾♒ Moon in Aquarius

When the moon is in Aquarius, it’s great to expand on your perspective, explore new material, work with tech magic or electricity and work with celestial magic or astrology. Especially as the moon is still in it's waxing crescent phase it's a great time to explore new things and try new ventures.

21st - ☾♒ Venus enters Scorpio

Venus enters the most passionate and intense sign, Scorpio bringing us into the deep depths of the shadows lingering from our love lives and other relationships that may still cause us to act paranoid, jealous or resentful of some people we live around today. This cycle is a great time for shadow work revolving around our relationship to other people and understanding why some people may trigger a negative response from us. Romance under this transit can be intense, dramatic, thrilling but also if you manage to have a healthy dynamic it can be soul bonding and long lasting. It's a good time for healing the heart and confronting any toxicity that we may be unknowingly harboring for the next month that this transit continues.

22nd - ☾♓ Sun enters Sagittarius First Quarter Moon in Pisces

The most festive season begins!! The Sun enters optimistic and excitable Sagittarius today bringing lights to the impenetrable dark of this somber quarter of the year. Trees will start to be aglow with lights, festive music will haunt us from every radio station and shop, everything we drink will be hot and spiced. You cannot escape the jolliness of Sagittarius season. However this energy may feel more tense than usual with the first day also landing on the First Quarter moon in Pisces. The first quarter moon calls for reflection on strategy and what we've learned this lunar cycle so far by experimenting and trying new things. What tools have we gained? What would we be willing to try or implement to get our goals ahead? Especially in the theme of Pisces we may really be focusing on our dreams and how we can bring our dreams to reality. How do these dreams liberate us? With what we've learned how can we achieve that liberation? As optimistic Sagittarius season overlaps with this lunar cycle, we may feel upbeat about taking this on.

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Week 23 - 29

23rd - ☾♓ Mercury in Scorpio trines Neptune rx in Pisces

Today feels tied in with yesterday's transits as Mercury makes a beneficial trine with Neptune rx which will create a lucky period of time where we can feel mentally aligned and balanced with our creativity, our spirituality and our dreams. We will be in-tune with what we want and be able to express it. If we are feeling repressed in this area, this transit will help us to understand these hidden parts some more. As beneficial as trines are, they are unfortunately so easy-going in their energy that we can easily miss them going by. This is a beneficial day to work towards your dreams so mark it on your calendar (especially as the moon will be conjunct Neptune rx in Pisces as well!) The energies will be aligned.

24th - ☾♈ Waxing Gibbous | Sun Trines Moon Moon enters Aries

Another wonderful trine will happen today with the Sun trining the Moon in Aries. This easy going day will be a great day to work towards your dreams as well, implement whatever strategies you reflected on and planned during the first quarter moon at the start of Sagittarius season and put them into action! Especially as the moon is in Aries we will feel inclined to take action so perhaps this trine will not go as unnoticed as most. This will feel like such a good spirited and lucky day, it's good to use this expansive energy wisely and keep your eyes on the prize. Fire magic would feel powerful today as well as barrier-breaking magic to bust through any obstacles in your way. It's also a good time to raise energy and create spell items especially fire-based tools like spell candles.

25th - ☾♈ Moon in Aries

Today the moon will conjunct both Chiron rx and Mars in Aries still giving us some of that productive boost of energy from yesterday. It's a good day to work though we may feel a window of time where we could feel uneasy or subject to pain with the moon and chiron rx conjunction. It's good to be aware of this to understand where to take it slow and be kind with yourself as you charge forward towards your dreams.

26th - ☾♈ Moon in Aries

When the moon is in Aries it’s great to take on challenges, use fire magic and hexing.

27th - ☾♉ Venus in Scorpio Opposite Uranus rx in Taurus Moon enters Taurus

Once again the themes of our lack of liberation and freedom in regards to our current relationships comes into the spotlight with the opposition today between Venus and Uranus rx. With chaotic Uranus transits it's always a spin-the-wheel adventure and Uranus rx will want us to seek change that can help us feel more free or help us expand our perspective. Even so Uranus loves change for the sake of change just to try something new and learn so our existing relationships, especially any that are restrictive could all go through an upheaval where we could either end up leaving or another person could get involved. It's an exciting time but it's usually not long lasting and it's just to change things up. If you are in a situation where you don't like the dynamic between you and another person, today is the day to shake things up or break it off. Also be mindful of your money today. Uranus is the master of surprises and chaos and even though it's in retrograde it can still bring events that could impact your finances or valuables if you are not careful.

28th - ☾♉ Neptune direct in Pisces Mercury in Scorpio sextile Jupiter in Capricorn

Wow Neptune is finally direct! This sleepy planet has finally ended it's 7 month long nap and is ready to move direct helping us reconnect with our source of creativity and be more aligned with our dreams and spirituality. Another beneficial transit will be Mercury sextiling Jupiter creating a day where luck is on our side in regards to learning new materials, trying new things (especially in the work place), understanding and exploring our minds and deep subconscious and taking on any tasks. However we should avoid biting off more than we can chew as this sextile can give us such optimism and ability to take on so much we can forget that we have natural limits and we may be unable to complete everything before the clock strikes 12.

29th - ☾♊ Moon enters Gemini

The energy carries on from the next day but as the moon enters Gemini it's a great day for reading and exploring interests, communicating ideas, sound and music based magic, air based magic and meditating with binaural beats.

30th - ☾♊ Full Moon in Gemini, Lunar eclipse Mercury in Scorpio sextiles Saturn in Capricorn

Today's full moon feels powerful and intense as it's not only a lunar eclipse, it's a blood moon which means it's a total lunar eclipse casting the moon in earth's shadow giving it a reddish illusion. It's a time of transformation and changes that can leave the past chapters suddenly behind as we get elevated to the next level. With the moon in Gemini opposite the sun in Sagittarius the themes are surrounding the details of the big picture and how they form the steps in the grand staircase that will carry us up towards our dreams. Eclipses are not the best time for manifesting new things as they are best for endings so if you are struggling with obstacles that stand in your way of your dreams or anything that is blocking your staircase it's time to banish them all! Avoid charging anything under this moon (unless if it's something like an athame that serves to cut chords and bring endings). Be aware that the eclipse is about endings to bring in a new chapter in life and unless you want to channel that energy into your tools you should be aware of what you are bringing in.

This will feel like a productive day with Mercury sextiling Saturn making us superbly aware of our tasks but having the ability to take them on. We will feel more responsible today and will feel inclined to work on our plans.

[kirstinmaldonado]

CHAPTER TWELVE 2.0

I started the last two chapters, happy to have something of substance to talk about, me being at home, improvements I was seeing, maybe even some rightful disappointment at some people’s lack of care in their actions…but like clockwork the beginning of the week brought in new developments and my mind drifted focus. My fingers lost the spark to write about feel-good situations when the chaos in the world seemed to extinguish the flame.

I was in Texas just two weeks ago but it honestly feels like forever, as if time is confused on what pace its on. The USA seems to be confused as well.

Theme parks across the nation are opening up. Some flights are back to full capacity. The world seems caught on a pendulum of thought: “Are we good enough to pretend and pass like we can go back to normal?”

Meanwhile, people are still getting sick. People are still dying. Protests are still happening, although it apparently doesn’t serve the media to still be airing that. Justice has still not been served for those we’ve lost: Breonna Taylor, Vanessa Guillen, Elijah McClain, and so many more. The media and internet is ablaze with people ridiculing, attacking, or making fun of each other, on top of everything going on.

I wonder if I’m a part of that sometimes. While I still think protesting for “bar lives” is unfathomable and tone deaf, while it was so easy to ridicule because it was so insanely insensitive to compare to the BLM movement, did I help to further a narrative full of spite? Did I egg on anger and divisiveness, did I unintentionally help create arguments online? Did I give a platform that I don’t agree with more attention by calling attention to it?

I’m all for the hard but important conversations. I love them, to be honest. My family and I had many thought-provoking conversations when I was home, about what they’ve experienced with racism, about our opinions on all sides. It was wonderful to expand our ways of thinking using past and present! I think we all walked away with more rounded backing to our opinions, me included, and I’m thankful to have a family that can be so open and willing to discuss.

Yet, those conversations can’t be condensed into however many characters can fit in to a tweet. The art of negotiating is not all about winning, it’s also about empathizing. It’s about explaining and getting the opponent to understand your side and school of thinking; if you just tear them apart for their lack of understanding or different opinion, how can they ever fully understand or want to, especially if you are the one trying to teach them something not in their wheelhouse?

Racism, of course, is non-negotiable.

Everything else, and it’s a lot, that we have encountered in the last few weeks (mainly dealing with COVID) feels like it’s cumulatively driven us to a breaking point, to a point where I don’t really feel like I live in the “United” States of America. I feel like we are now all pitted against each other, immediate to defend our point, and jumping to 10 because honestly we are tired of the bullshit.

I get it. I do. But in the last few days while I’ve watched coronavirus cases develop, “Karens” making a fool of themselves in public places and endangering people’s lives with their sense of entitlement, while watching Hamilton for the first time and seeing good and bad critiques, Kanye running for president, while I’ve cried over Vanessa and what happened to her only to have someone try to belittle my reaction compared to others we’ve lost, I realized something.

Chaos. All chaos.

How can we make real change when we are all just screaming? How can we move mountains when we are pushing from two opposing sides? And while we have made progress, will we have the sensibility to keep with it or will our boiling frustrations overrule and distract us from our end goal, lasting and transformative change for the betterment of BIPOCs and everyone?

I’m not hating on our progress. And I’m not vilifying people’s reactions to things not in your school of thought, albeit insanely frustrating things. I’ve been there and am there. The amount of Facebook posts I’ve written novels for, the shock I feel on a daily basis for some people, is all still there. Yet, my sadness for this world and how to heal it has crept in and bated me.

What can “I” do to make a difference?

Hating and bashing things is our new normal, our humor has become intertwined with it so much that we ridicule and make jokes out of everything. Click-bait headlines only stoke the flames. Coronavirus is still surging every day, and you know what, some people can’t pretend to go back to “normal” amongst it all.

The entertainment business, for example, won’t be back up and running for… who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised if Broadway was closed for longer than a year. We rescheduled our tour in hopes that we would be able to go, but with the way things are looking I can’t help but feel distressed about the outlook for the entertainment industry/shows all around. So many people’s “normal” won’t come back at all until we get a headway on this virus, and it’s gonna take us all coming together for that to work as well. We have to truly be THE UNITED states of america.

As a side-note, Pentatonix has never been this stationary since we started…and that’s bittersweet too. Never take anything for granted, guys.

So while I dissolved into a puddle over Vanessa and how I don’t even know how to help mediate the world anymore, with people at each others throats literally and figuratively all the time, with good people and bad people on every side, I returned to a very old school of thought for myself. 

Be kind. 

What can “I” do every day? 

Yes, use my platform as a strong voice of advocacy, try to filter through everything to make sure I’m posting facts and not scare-mongering or leading anyone astray from what they should be seeing.

I’ve protested. Signed petitions. Written emails. I tried to raise awareness and bring everyone along with me on my journey as I learned, which I thought was helpful.

But I forgot about the most important thing, the thing that’s been ingrained in my head since I was a child for better for worse, the one thing that even though practiced vehemently, never always comes back guaranteed.

Be kind.

I lost that somewhere along the way, a bit. I could feel my soul hardening at how cruel some people can be, I felt how easy it was to smite and bash people’s names who have done far worse. I felt my eyes cloud with hate.

For a long time I thought the battle was human vs earth and I was always so sad to see how easily we destroyed such a precious gift. 

Now I know at its core that the real problem is human vs human: how to one up each other, how to be more successful, how to win, how to be MORE all the time. That feeling has been slowly poisoning us and our empathy and compassion towards others. That feeling is not about bettering oneself, it’s about greed and it spreads like cancer. 

For a long time, I didn’t want to “be kind” like a Disney princess anymore. I was tired of trying to use kindness as a shield as if people’s actions did not hurt me. I was mad at my kindness for blinding me and letting me get hurt. I thought the phrase “kill them with kindness” was stupid, because I was the one that kept getting hurt.

But my kindness did not do that to me. I did not do that to me.

People did. Hurt people. Confused people. People that had problems within themselves that were in no way a reflection of me. People with opposing views. Those people are not my fault. Those people don’t get to have their anger bleed in to my life, they don’t get to poison my disposition with their greed and animosity.

What can I do?

Every day, I can make a point to not be divisive. To not so easily make fun of things, belittle, call names, etc.

I can tone down my “complaining” online. I can not get so upset and rush to attack people that would be hard to get my point across to anyway online, so I don’t work myself up for hours about one internet troll when I could be doing other more important things. Why lose sanity over someone only wanting to argue? Why revert to the name bashing, why invite more stress and anger in to my life, even though there’s enough anyway with what’s going on in the world?

As I uncovered more history, had more awakenings and understandings, and dealt with my own personal stresses, I felt my strength oscillating and now I know why. I was so hardened with hate and disbelief, I felt like a fool living in a world that said it was something else. And...I left my best ally behind in my own rush for MORE.

Kindness. 

Empathy. Understanding. Patience.

So for July, I’ve decided to take care of myself a little more. Take care of others. Make sure that I am not contributing to anyone’s pain, and only being an ally to amplify voices that need to be heard. 

There’s a kinder way to say everything. There’s a kinder way to live. Amongst all this chaos, maybe if we were all a bit kinder, we could ease the waves of tension and calm the storm. Maybe if we could see past ourselves, we could make a lasting change for us all.

I changed my bio the other day. We must be like the sunflowers, pulling toxicity from the ground and air. Nature’s helper. I said I would be like that.

They don’t contribute anything negative, they just stand tall and strong, a mediating force in a world that needs purifying. 

So, I will armor myself with my strength, knowledge, and kindness. 

And see about tomorrow. 

[amazingdriverfics]

Crowned by the devil - ch. 13

Summary: Kylo has to deal with the consequences of his act and so do you. Will you ever be able to forgive him? 

Warnings: lots of angst, sad Kylo, sad reader. 

A/N: this took me so long I am truly embarrassed and also sorry for all of you who read this fic which is very important to me just like you all. As you might know my aunt died and I was at the end of my College semester and as someone who has depression things just got a bit out of hand. I hope that I can write the next chapter sooner since I already have the planning written down. 

Thank you all for not giving up on me. It means a lot, for real. I hope you all had a great day.

My masterlist

Previous Chapter

Kylo left the room like a hurricane, all the anger he held towards her a moment before now fueling his self-hate, he had wished so many times to be different, to be someone who could open up, who could be loved, but everytime Ren proved to himself that he was only good at being hated, at being feared, at being the monster Snoke shaped him into. As he stomped to the halls, lightsaber already in hand ready to be ignited destroying all it could possibly touch as if it would solve his problems, Kylo kept on seeing her face as he unleashed the demons in his insides, the tears running down her face, the disappointment in her eyes, the fear she felt kept hitting him in waves and the feeling of being the most feared being in the room, which usually made him feel powerful, now making him ashamed of his attitudes. 

He didn’t meet anyone as he walked through the ship, his loud steps enough to let all of his employees know that they shouldn’t cross him if they had any love for their own life, Ren would kill anyone in that moment, would do anything at all to end the feelings crushing his insides, to take his mind away from her, to make him feel alive again. 

Before he could even notice he was inside a monochromatic room filled with computers, lightsaber in hand, the red light coloring his face contorced in an angry expression and the room. He didn’t think twice before destroying the room, watching as sparkles flew, ignoring the sounds of his actions since they were drowned by her “Leave”s, the pain in her tone amplifying his own hurt, it almost felt like her hands were back on his chest, hitting him over and over again as if she could really physically hurt the man built like a tank.

Eventually his rage died and despair took control of him, without even think he let the lightsaber fall to the floor, not listening to the sound of the fall as he started to sob, tears spilling and staining his skin as he too fell to the ground, the pain becoming too much for him to even stand. He had just lost his Empress, Kylo knew that he could make her marry him, he could do anything he wanted, but the knight also knew that he could never force her to truly love him, to look at him like he had hung the stars, to want his body, to kiss him with want as she used to do, to care for him. He had given all that up for his stupidity, for not being brave enough to let her see what he was like inside. 

As the night went on Kylo laid on the floor with the remains of his destructive behavior crying his eyes out and calling her name, praying to the force that there was something he could possibly do to make her care about him once again. 

——————————————————————————

For the following week Kylo stayed in his bedroom, too ashamed and sad to leave the comfort of his quarters, allowing the guilt to eat him from inside out, not eating properly, barely showering or leaving the warm feeling provided by his bed. The knight couldn’t even look at the mirror, his reflection judging him, holding him accountable for all he had done and for his mistakes. Ren knew he would have to leave that space - mental and physical - soon, he knew that the First Order needed him and that he couldn’t trust Hux to stay in charge for too long without trying to overthrow him, the worst part was that he knew he couldn’t ignore his actions for too long as well, he would have to face her, he would have to try to fix the mess he had made even though he wasn’t sure how he would do so, but Kylo loved her too much to let everything fall apart like that. 

He took one last look at the mess in his room, at the clothes spreaded around the floor, at the bed sheets covered in sweat and got up going straight to the bathroom, starting the shower as he looked into the mirror, straight into the reflection’s eyes, ready to do whatever he needed to do to make her his once more. 

——————————————————————————

Your sadness had turned into a uncontrollable rage in the day that followed the fight, at yourself and at Kylo, the wish to kill the Supreme Leader filling your head constantly as you lived through the day, trying your best not to unleash your anger in Mitaka who seemed to be frequently scared of you ever since your attitude change no matter how many times you tried to explain to the sweet Lieutenant that your mood had nothing to do with him. The only ones who were really able to handle you like that were Cardo and Trudgen which kept on trying to cheer you up with his super annoying sense of humor. So whenever you weren’t with Mitaka in the library gathering all the information you needed or in your quarters, you were with the two knights doing your best to live through the days as you tried your hardest to ignore each and every thought about Kylo that didn’t involve your fists hitting his perfect face over and over again. 

Mainly, it wasn’t too hard keeping you from thinking about Ren, but sometimes a wave of sadness would hit you straight on the chest remembering that you missed his presence even though you couldn’t bring yourself to understand why on the Galaxy you would miss that man, well until your body remembered you not only about the times he pleasured you, much more than that really, every time you felt like that your faded scar burned a bit remembering that night when Kylo comforted you and defended you from Hux, about his body on the small couch on the medbay as he slept and waited for news about you since he was deeply worried about your wound and about how grateful you were to him for ordering the doctor to treat your scar, fading it enough so you could cover it with a tattoo. 

The sound of Trudgen’s voice calling you hottie brought you back to reality, forcing you to remember that you were in the knight’s living room drinking with your two friends, even though you would never admit you considered Trudgen one of your friends. You grabbed the drink on the table, feeling the coldness of the glass and allowing the sensation to ground you even further so it could take your mind off of Kylo Ren. 

“Yes, Trudgen” you said with a fake annoyed tone, arching your eyebrows before taking a sip of the drink with a strong alcohol taste. 

“I asked you who you think will win the game” he replied, voice showing a bit of worry he and Cardo shared anytime you zoomed out of reality even though they knew better than to ask you what was happening, not talking about their master or about what happened that night was an unannounced deal you three had and even though you were sure they knew how Kylo was doing you knew it was better not to ask about it, not wanting to drag yourself deeper into the mess you had put yourself into. 

You looked at the screen in which both of them were watching the game, doing your best to analyze the teams strategies and players even though you weren’t the biggest fan of soccer nor had a lot of time during your life to watch those games, but the dizziness in your brain caused by the combination of alcohol and thinking of Ren made it impossible for you to have a logical response to the match playing in front of your eyes. And so you shrugged, taking your drink to your lips once more before saying a “don’t fucking care” which caused Cardo to laugh. 

“Come on, y/n, it’s the Galactic Cup, you must care about it” Trudgen said back, trying to bring you into his conversation with Cardo despite it being a loss fight, you were too in your head to come back. 

“Leave her alone” Cardo commanded, knowing that there was nothing that both of them could do, but letting you be. 

And so you stayed on the couch barely moving except when you took a sip of your drink feeling as your scar burned, shouting to you that there wasn’t a way to really keep yourself from remembering how Kylo took care of you. ——————————————————————————

Ren was in the throne room with the most expensive jewelry consultant in the Galaxy, looking at the thousand of pieces he had in his holotablet, double checking each one making sure that he would choose not only the best one, but the one which fitted his Empress more perfectly, which would make her skin and eyes pop. Just by following his plan to get his love back, Kylo felt a bit of comfort, of course the fear of it still not being enough to get her back was present, but knowing that he had already come up with a plan and that he was a step closer to feeling her against his arms once again was enough to keep him going. And so, despite what anyone could expect of him, Ren kept on scrolling and on deciding his favorite jewelry with a feeling of enjoyment pumping through his veins. 

The Supreme Leader was interrupted by the sound of one of his knights dropping on one knee in respect before saying “Master Ren” allowing him to know that the one in his presence was no other than Cardo, his Empress best friend and one of the people he had been avoiding in the past days knowing that the encounter would make the wound in his chest throb. Seeing his knight, however, didn’t make him want to cry or destroy a whole room, instead he felt proud of himself, he knew that Cardo would appreciate his attempt to make y/n feel better. 

“Cardo” he replied, gesturing for the knight to get up, waiting patiently for the knight to announce the reason why he had come to Ren. The waves of worry coming from the man, however, allowed his master to have an idea of what he wanted to talk about. 

“Master, I don’t mean to overstep, but I’ve been really worried about y/n, ever since whatever happened between the two of you, she hasn’t been the same.” he started, eyes looking at his calloused hands, stopping for a moment to catch a breath before continuing “Whenever she isn’t furious looking like she is about to throw a punch in the nearest surface, she looks lost, as if her sadness swallowed her whole and there’s nothing left of her but a shell” Cardo finished looking, for once, directly into Kylo’s eyes and even though he tried to keep a hard facade which didn’t show emotion, his light colored eyes were see-through, he was truly concerned for the girl he had the chance to grow to love as a friend. 

Kylo’s heart almost stopped for a second, all the good sensations he had been feeling just a couple of minutes before completely gone, overshadowed by the crushing pressure on his chest almost as if a hand was crushing it. If he was alone, Ren might have cried or allowed his self-hate to express itself in the room’s walls, but he knew better than to throw a tantrum in front of one of his knights, someone who not only should respect him as a master, but also someone he considered to be family. 

“I see” he replied, voice hoarse and distorced with the sea of emotions taking over him. “I have a plan to win her heart back Cardo, don’t you worry.”  

——————————————————————————

You were wandering in the endless halls, watching as the same bucket faces passed through you, as the droids worked and as the stars shone in the never ending blue galaxy, wondering what was your role in it, if you were really supposed to be living in a ship suffering for a man who could never give you what you needed when you had spent all your life on your own when the first encounter after the fight happened. 

As strange as it could possibly sound, you felt him before even seeing him, as if something about his aura was always recognizable from all that time you had spent with Kylo. Just the feeling made your body hair stand as anxiety started to fog your brain, it was truly your worst nightmare, you were pretty you weren’t ready to see him, but there was no point in running, you knew that he could find you anywhere he wanted, no matter how good you were at hiding yourself from your problems. Therefore you waited, standing still and trying to keep an emotionless face that could do nothing to help you to keep your feelings from the dark knight. 

The first thing you listened to were his steps, loud and confident as ever and it immediately caused you to look up, facing the thought you had tried to ignore the most. He was just as beautiful as ever, his gorgeous dark and intense eyes looking directly into yours, his hair adorning his face which seemed a bit thinner and his mouth you had kissed so many times in a line as he kept his neutral expression. Seeing him awakened a lot of feelings, the first one was a pulsing rage which had been with you ever since you woke up after Ren left your room, the second one was relief to know he was alive and well and even though you felt sad from all that happened, the most present feeling was disappointment, you didn’t exactly know why you weren’t expecting Kylo Ren to act like a monster after he had kidnapped you, but after all the nice moments and all the kindness he had shown you, seeing him as a captor once more, more so, as someone that even remotely reminded you of Kreat was just too much, too heartbreaking. 

“y/n”. 

[cannibalisticapple]

So around a week or two ago I sent an anonymous ask to @corndog-patrol suggesting Villain Mic finding a Cat!Shouta. When I saw it on my phone in the car, I had to stop myself from reading until I could get home and look at it in full on my computer. It has been so much better than I could have ever imagined.

Seeing all the doodles and artwork so far has been a HUGE inspiration for me, and I ended up writing this over the past week. Because I am physically incapable of writing anything short, it kinda ballooned to almost 8k words, partially because I ended up adding to it as more art was posted. The majority of it was written before the bowtie pic though, including the opening scene. (Fun fact: I originally called Shouta “Pepper”.)

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, well, anything to Tumblr, so apologies for any weird formatting issues! And thanks again to @corndog-patrol for making such a great Villain Mic AU! Anyways, enjoy!

The Adventures of Puddles

           Given his known fondness for cats, most of Shouta’s friends and colleagues often teased him about how getting hit by a Quirk that turned him into a cat would be a dream come true for him.

           They were wrong.

           The hero-turned-feline felt thoroughly irritated as he loped down the street, the heavy downpour soaking him thoroughly and weighing down his thick black fur with water. He’d been turned into a cat while heading to UA just that evening, and since then he’d been rather unhappy. Nemuri had laughed her head off when she found him halfway to her apartment with his goggles around his neck and his capture weapon dragging along the ground behind him, which really hadn’t helped much.

           Considering he’d been found by Nemuri relatively fast, he should be safe and dry right now, but then Nemuri had taken him to UA. Logically it made sense of course, Shouta would be safe there and he’d have easy access to a support network to find a way to reverse the transformation. Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for how the kids would react. One of them had sighted Nemuri carrying him inside, and Nemuri had no hesitation dumping him on the student with a sadistic grin while she went to meet with the other staff.

           After spending an hour being assaulted by his students cooing over him and ruffling him from twenty different directions at once (literally), he’d desperately craved some space and alone time. The sight of Snipe and Cementoss sneaking around with cameras and phones ready, clearly intending to take photos of his ordeal, had been the last push he needed to jump the wall and get away from UA for a bit. He knew the area well enough, he should be safe to walk around a couple hours even as a cat. Key word: should.

           It was just his luck he’d get chased by someone’s dog for what must have been half a mile, ending with him lost in an only vaguely familiar part of town. His attempts to find his way back had only succeeded in making him more lost over the ensuing hours, the vaguely familiar scenery giving way to buildings he absolutely did not recognize. And of course, it also had to start raining shortly after that.

           Right now, he just wanted to get out of the heavy rain. He was wet, cold, tired, and felt sore in ways he didn’t even know possible until being turned into a cat. Turns out having your body undergo a radical physical transformation tended to put some stress on muscles and preexisting injuries. Go figure. At least his dry eye hadn’t seemed to transfer over, but that didn’t make him any less stressed.

           The feeling only amplified when he stepped in a puddle and proceeded to plummet into it with a startled yowl, water splashing everywhere. Of course this sidewalk would have a giant hole in it that flooded with water and turned into a miniature, cat-sized bath. The hole was deep enough his head barely stuck above the water, the chilly temperature making him shudder. He scrabbled at the edges with an annoyed growl, trying to pull himself out.

           “Hey, you okay little buddy?” The voice behind him made him freeze, the fur on his back standing on end. Shit. He knew that voice. His head whipped around to see a man crouching behind him, and while he wasn’t wearing his costume, Shouta couldn’t think of anyone else with a loud voice who also sported a stupid mustache like that. This had to be Present Mic.

           Great, just great, he thought sarcastically. For some odd reason the idiot wasn’t wearing a raincoat in this weather, his long blond hair partially pulled into a bun with the loose strands plastered to his face and shoulders by the rain. How the guy could even see with all those water droplets on his glasses was beyond Shouta. “Oh man, I always said someone was gonna fall into this stupid thing. Come on, let’s get you out.”

           Shouta silently glowered at the villain as he reached out to him but made no effort to push him away. Trying to get a good grip on the pavement was tricky with the rain making everything so slippery. Maybe if he could figure out how to get his claws to pop out, but he’d yet to figure out a lot of his new form’s functions. Frankly, the fact he could walk at all was a miracle considering he’d never used a four-legged body before.

           So the sulking cat allowed the blond villain to carefully slip his hands around Shouta’s... armpits? Well, his hands went between around the edges of his front legs and shoulders, so, close enough—and pull him out of the hole. Rather than put him down like he expected though, Mic shifted his hold to carry the grumpy feline, turning to walk to a nearby apartment building. “Come on, let’s get you inside so we can dry you off. My place is just over there!”

           ...And now Mic was taking him to his apartment. Crap. Shouta naturally began to struggle, wanting to get the hell back to UA instead, but Mic had a surprisingly strong grip. In the end he gave up and just sulked in the villain’s arms with a grumpy scowl as the blond draped a towel over him, resigned to his fate. At least he was out of the rain.

           “Oh man, you’re lucky I found you!” Mic commented, looking down at him with a concerned frown. “A lil’ fella like yourself could drown in all that rain!” He switched on the light switch by the door, illuminating one of the most rundown and shabby apartments Shouta had ever seen. And considering his meager salary as an underground hero, he’d seen a lot of crummy places while apartment hunting. “You’ll be safe here, just make yourself at home you little cutie!”

           Shouta just silently scowled at his current predicament. He just wanted to get warm and dry and take a nice, long nap until this stupid Quirk wore off. (It better wear off.)

           The Quirk did not wear off.

             Morning found Shouta still very much a feline, much to his ire. He woke up well before Mic, the blond snoozing away in his bedroom (Shouta had chosen to sleep on the couch, which had literal patches sewn on it, he’d never seen that outside cartoons), and Shouta felt no small amount of irritation at the fact he still had this stupid feline body. At least he was warm and dry now. That didn’t make him any happier about the situation though.

           A glance at the bathroom mirror had revealed himself to be particularly mangy and stocky rather than sleek and agile-looking like most cats. His long hair had turned into thick, shaggy fur, the black coloration adding an air of dirtiness as opposed to the soft and fluffy feeling exuded by Mic’s actual cat. Sprinkles, if the name written on the food bowl was accurate.

             Speaking of the food bowl, Mic was now beaming down at Shouta as he sat next to the now-full bowl. “Come on, it’s safe to eat!” Mic goaded—nay, practically pleaded with him, his mouth pulled into a pout as he looked down at Shouta. “You have to be hungry, little guy!”

             Shouta just glowered at him, ignoring the bowl. Nope. Not gonna eat that. He might be a cat for now (seriously this stupid thing better wear off on its own), but he was NOT going to eat cat food.

             Mic sighed, seeming to accept the fact as he turned to begin rifling through the cabinet. Good, looks like he got the picture and was looking for something else to feed him. “It’s the bowl, right?” he muttered. Wait, what? Mic turned around holding a cracked plastic soup bowl, dumping another scoop of kitty kibble into it before setting it next to Shouta. “There! This bowl doesn’t smell like Sprinkles, so it should be good, right?”

             He beamed down at Shouta, clearly proud of his understanding of cats. Shouta just stared at him blandly, making no move to touch it, and Mic soon deflated. “Eh, you’ll get hungry try it eventually,” he muttered, turning away with a sigh and trudging off to his bedroom. Shouta watched him leave with a blank face, still pointedly ignoring the bowl of cat food.

             As he sat there Sprinkles sauntered over and plopped down on the floor next to him, blinking her large eyes at him as she studied him curiously. Normally, Shouta would be happy to be in the presence of a cat, especially one who seemed as sweet and friendly as Sprinkles. Seeing as he himself was currently a cat, however, he found his joy slightly diminished. He couldn’t exactly pet her with paws, which sucked since her fluffy white fur looked particularly soft and silky.

             For now, he settled for patting her leg with his paw to try to satiate the urge. Sadly, it did not have the same effect as running his fingers through her fur. He sulked up until he heard a gasp, and turned to see Mic staring at him with sparkly eyes from the door to his bedroom. He bounced over with a giant grin and bent down next to them. “So adorable!” he gushed, rubbing Shouta’s head affectionately.

             At this point, Shouta’s broody mood outweighed the urge to claw off his hand.

             “So, I already have Sprinkles,” Mic mused aloud, “So what do you think of the name... Pickles?”

             Scratch that. Shouta proceeded to do so literally, highly satisfied by the startled and pained yelp from the blond.

             “Ow! Ow! Okay, not Pickles! Ouch, that really hurts!”

              Day two of being a cat. Shouta was now covered in clothes while Mic loudly rooted through his dresser.

             “Where is that shirt?” Mic grumbled to himself, tossing a pair of jeans over his shoulder. Why he apparently stored pants and shirts in the same drawers, Shouta had no idea. Why did a person need this many clothes? Granted, he barely bothered with more than the minimal amount needed himself. But still.

             Also, what was that guy even aiming at? Shouta was sitting in the doorway, not even fully in the room!

             Mic made a sound of triumph as he held up a shirt in an eye-searing chartreuse, on the more yellow end of the spectrum. A fact Shouta knew only because he’d spent an hour arguing with one of his students over demanding to use the color in their costume two years ago. Why. Why did anyone have clothing in that shade.

             Mic turned around with a grin, but his smile quickly faded to a look of confusion. “Puddles? Puddles, where are you?” Shouta’s eye twitched, still displeased with the name (seriously, what was with this guy’s preoccupation with English words?), but it beat literally every other suggestion the villain had. Even if he didn’t like the whole reminder of being pulled out of a puddle.

             He gave a displeased mrow and Mic blinked and bent down next to the discarded pile of clothes, lifting up a pants leg to see Shouta’s eyes glowering up at him. “Oh, there you are, you silly baby!” Shouta glared at him, willing all his disdain to show through his eyes. Mic was unfazed. “Aw, geez, now I need to wash the hair off this stuff!” Mic playfully scolded as he started picking up the clothes.

             You literally threw it on me, Shouta thought silently. You have no one to blame but yourself for this. He waited patiently for Mic to lift the clothes off him, depositing them on his bed to be washed later. Shouta took silent pleasure in the glimpse of black hairs stuck to them.

             Mic pulled on the eye-searing shirt while Shouta continued to sit and brood, chattering all the while. “Man, I am so stoked to see this band tonight! I feel kinda bad leaving you alone here all day when you’re still getting used to the place, but you’ll have Sprinkles to keep you company so you shouldn’t be too lonely!” He grabbed what Shouta presumed to be his work uniform and folded the shirt over his arm, giving Shouta a final pet as he strode past him. Shouta remained in place, pointedly ignoring him as he continued to sulk and brood.

             Approximately ten seconds later Mic returned, looking notably dejected. “Your bowl is still full,” he said glumly. “Are you seriously on some sort of hunger strike?” Shouta made a rumbling noise halfway between a meow and a grumble, and Mic groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “C’mon, Puddles, I’m on a limited budget here! Do I need to steal expensive food for you?”

             Shouta responded with a pointed glare. He would NOT condone Mic stealing cat food for him. As a hero, he couldn’t allow even the most trivial of crimes, even if they had good intentions behind them. Plus, he had a feeling the blond would try feeding him a wet canned food next, and the thought of the slimy-looking can-shaped meat chunk just made him want to shudder.

             (He pointedly ignored the fact he stole one of the pieces of chicken from Mic’s dinner last night when the blond wasn’t looking. He was a cat right now, cats did not need to obey any laws, and snagging food from someone’s plate wasn’t exactly illegal anyway.)

             “I still have that concert tonight so it’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Mic sighed, and then nodded to himself with a look of renewed resolve. “I can’t let you starve though! We’ll have to improvise for now!” He marched off to the kitchen, and Shouta followed silently, letting himself feel a glimmer of hope. That hope was soon rewarded when he found Mic rooting through the fridge, pulling out a can of sardines.

             Not my first choice but I’ll take it. Shouta trotted over as Mic put it on a paper plate, hopping onto the counter to begin chowing down before he could even pick up the plate. Relief visibly flooded Mic’s face as he ate, his shoulders slumping and a breath of air escaping him. “Oh thank goodness, I was getting worried there! Kinda picky for a stray though, aren’tcha?” Shouta just rumbled in the back of his throat, too busy eating to respond otherwise.

             “Welp, I gotta run if I want to get to work on time,” Mic said, glancing at the clock. “See you later, cool cats! Sprinkles, make sure Puddles doesn’t get into trouble while I’m gone!” The white cat meowed in response, and with a jaunty wave Mic departed, the click of the door shutting and locking ringing particularly heavily in the ensuing silence. Shouta’s head snapped up, eyes locking on the door.

             Okay, he’s finally gone. Time to see if I can find an escape route. Shouta had no intention of staying here absolutely longer than necessary; the sooner he found someone he knew, the better. Finishing off the sardines, he leaped off the counter and made his way to the door, determined to get out.

             Ten minutes of trying to open it later, he found his resolve faltering though. Cat paws just weren’t good for turning round doorknobs, even with the advantage of knowing how they worked. And that didn’t even account for trying to just reach it. There were no convenient surfaces near the handle to stand on, so he spent most of those ten minutes just hopping up and down trying to reach it.

             As he found himself clinging to the knob with all four limbs trying desperately not to slide off, he finally conceded this probably wouldn’t work.

             Letting himself fall to the ground, he proceeded to sullenly slink to the rest of the apartment to search for an alternate route. He’d neglected to explore the apartment the previous day beyond the bathroom and the main living space, as he’d rather not look around a villain’s place too much. Beyond the whole “don’t intend to stay more than a day” thing, he didn’t really feel keen on the “invasion of privacy” thing. The man might be technically a villain, but honestly, Shouta viewed him as more of a nuisance than dangerous.

             After checking the window in the living room and confirming it would be even more of a hassle to open than the front door, he reluctantly turned his attention to the bedroom. The door was half-closed, and he felt apprehensive as he crept towards it because, again, invasion of privacy. He’d only sat outside the door that morning because Mic was being noisy and he was curious. He hadn’t been able to see a window then, but there could be one on the wall outside his view, and if he got lucky it would be open.  So he nudged open the door, looking around, and—

             ............

             That was a lot of Eraserhead merchandise.

             Shouta just stared at the collection of posters and other objects in the corner where two dressers met, as if staring would make it disappear or somehow become... something else. Anything else. But nope, it all stayed in place, from the folded shirt to the homemade banner with ‘ERASERHEAD’ written in large English letters.

             I don’t even HAVE merchandise. What the actual hell. Those looked like replicas of his capture weapon and goggles, though the color was slightly off, and... Was that a plushie of him? Hopping onto one of the dressers and prodding at the small doll curiously, he confirmed it was, indeed, a hand-made plushie of him.

              Mic returned several hours later to Sprinkles pawing at Shouta as he hid under the couch. Mic, naturally, just assumed Shouta was spooked and proceeded to spend about half an hour trying to coax him out. Shouta pointedly ignored his cooing and just remained curled up in the safe embrace of the darkness, wishing desperately he could unsee what he had seen.

              Day three of being a cat. Shouta had finally emerged from his spot under the couch to dine on more sardines, having resumed his usual cool demeanor after the initial shock and embarrassment at seeing the shrine. What shrine? Shouta saw absolutely no hand-made plushies or other merchandise of himself, Mic’s room was absolutely normal. Well, as normal as a bedroom belonging to Present Mic could be.

             More important than nonexistent merchandise, he was starting to wonder if the Quirk had a time limit. Was he doomed to be forever a cat? No, no, he’d give it a week before he started to panic. A lot of long-lasting Quirks had a week-long time limit, there was no reason to assume it didn’t have a limit. No need to freak out just yet—

             What was that spot?

             Shouta froze, transfixed by a yellowish dot moving on the floor next to him. Gaze following it intently, he tentatively slapped his paw over it, only for it to appear on top of it. He blinked in mild surprise, and when he withdrew his paw the spot didn’t move with it instead, remaining in the exact place on the floor.

             Had he been human he would have frowned at it, so for now he settled for squinting. What is this thing? After a few seconds the weird spot moved away and bounced in a small circle along the tile floor. Eyes narrowing, he slowly crept towards it and pounced again, only for it to once more appear atop his paw.

             Another confused blink, and he quickly retreated, circling it warily. He slowly reached out to tap it, watching the spot overlap with his dark fur before quickly withdrawing his paw. Nearby he heard Mic give a soft giggle, which he chose to ignore as he inspected  the spot more thoroughly. Obviously it wasn’t a bug, or even anything physical.

             Is it a light? he thought. It was the most reasonable explanation. But what kind of yellow light is that small and able to move like that? The only light he could think of were—wait.

             Shouta abruptly froze as the spot zoomed away, just staring into space as gears clicked into place in his mind.

             Did I seriously fall for a laser pointer? he thought in disbelief. Another soft giggle from Mic drew his attention to the blond, and he confirmed his suspicion instantly upon seeing him pointing a pen-like device towards the wall. His left hand pressed against his mouth as he watched the two cats from a distance, an amused smile peeking through his fingers.

             I fell for a laser pointer, Shouta mentally reiterated in mild shock.

             In his defense, his new eyes had a more limited range of color so he couldn’t exactly tell the light was red. Had he been able to see its color, he would’ve made the connection right away. Somehow, his newfound red-green colorblindness had slipped his mind with everything else going on. Come to think of it, that hideous shirt Mic wore yesterday might not actually be that hideous. Huh.

           As Shouta stared at him Mic’s smile faded, his hand lowering from his mouth as he frowned. He looked kind of... disappointed? Shouta blinked, briefly confused by the change in expression, until he saw the laser zoom past his paws again. Oh. Mic was still trying to play with him. Yeah, Shouta got pretty dejected too when his own cat lost interest.

             As he watched Mic’s shoulders slump he felt a twinge of guilt, and decided to take pity on the man. He abruptly spun and pounced onto the light, the laser bouncing wildly as Mic startled. As the laser swerved away and Shouta chased after it, he snuck a glance at Mic to find him grinning brilliantly, his eyes sparkling. That looked much better than the sad look he’d been sporting.

             Shouta was only doing this because he was bored. Cats had very limited options for mental stimulation, it was only logical to take advantage of a distraction when he had the chance. The fact it made Mic happy had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

              Day four of being a cat.

             Shouta was learning more about Mic than he ever wanted to, and not just because he was forced to inhabit the same space as the man. No, Mic had apparently decided that cats made perfect receptacles for venting.

             Shouta felt ready for a villain to burst through the wall and end his misery now as Mic laid on his bed, venting to him in a manner eerily reminiscent a teenage girl. The comparison was more apt than Shouta expected actually, given the man’s obsession with appearances and melodramatic tendencies in his villain persona. He kind of reminded him of an unholy fusion of Ashido and Jirou.

             So far he’d heard everything. Rants about the awful music selection played at the convenience store on the way to his job. The atrocious battery life of his cell phone and the hassle of carrying a charger everywhere. The apartment manager who always drew out and loudly over-enunciated her words after she first noticed his hearing aids, making it even harder to understand her (actually a valid grievance, Shouta admitted).

             And Shouta just sat there with a grumpy look, trying to convey his utter lack of interest through his sour glare. Part of him contemplated just leaving, but he had actually been quite comfortable sitting on this pillow before Mic came in and flopped onto the bed with an exasperated, “You won’t believe the day I’ve had!” Aside from the noise, this pillow was still quite comfortable, much moreso than the couch, which was worn enough he could feel the springs creak under his weight. So he just tried to ignore the venting.

             It was not as easy as he hoped.

             “—And then there’s my shitty job—god I hate that place!” the blond muttered, poking Shouta’s ear. His ear twitched away from the touch, just squinting at him with disdain. You seem to hate a lot of places, he thought sarcastically. “They treat me like shit!” Most “villains” would try destroy a place if they really hated it that much.

             “It’s all just so horrible!” the blond finished with a dramatic groan, while Shouta watched on with absolutely no sympathy. Screw this, the couch is lumpy but at least it’s quiet there. He was about to get up and leap away when the blond perked up, a bright smile lighting up his face. “But y’know what makes everything better?”

             No, what? Shouta thought sarcastically, knowing he’d find out either way.

             “Eraserhead!” Wait what? Shouta tensed at the mention of his name, staring wide-eyed and starting to feel rising panic as Mic began gushing about him. “Seeing him always makes me so much happier!” Okay, he really should have seen this coming, since the villain was pretty overt about his romantic intentions towards Shouta in... literally every encounter they had. “He’s my boyfriend y’know? Sooo cute!” Wait, wait, what—no, back up!! We’re not dating— “He kicks my ass a lot but only ’cuz that’s his job!”

             Don’t say it like! That makes it sound like an abusive relationship!! A distressed hiss nearly escaped Shouta, but it was silenced by the all-consuming panic and embarrassment that had gripped him. Mic had a dreamy-looking smile on his face, his eyes almost glittering as he loudly proclaimed, “I love him a lot!”

             Oh my god. He really IS a teenage girl. Shouta felt like he was watching a disaster movie play out in real time, and in a way he was. The disaster that was Mic’s delusional take of their relationship. Did this idiot even understand how healthy relationships worked!? Why do you even love me so much!?

             Maybe his feline features were more expressive than he thought, or maybe Mic was just in a mood to gush over him, because the blond gave a dreamy sigh and proceeded to elaborate.

             “Man, you should see him in action. He’s so graceful and agile, like a cat.” More literally than you know right now, Shouta thought sullenly. “And he totally doesn’t back down even if the other guy’s, like, ten times his size!” That would be a sixty-foot-tall person, Mic. That would be unrealistic and just makes me sound reckless. “And he manages to take them down with nothing but his skills and his awesome scarf!” I wish I could take down a sixty-foot-tall giant with just that.

             “And plus, he totally punched a reporter in the face this one time!” Mic continued, and that one admittedly caught Shouta’s attention. Usually people highlighted that incident as a bad one, not a good quality. “It’s just, there’s so many heroes out there who only seem to care about the press, y’know?

             “Don’t get me wrong, I love big and flashy stunts as much as the next guy—I mean, as long as I’m not, you know, actually facing All Might myself, haha, oh thank god he’s retired now and that won’t ever happen—but some of them just feel... hollow.” Mic waved his hand with a vague frown. muttering. “Like, they do it more for the cameras than a feeling of doing good, I guess?

             “But Eraserhead,” he breathed with a small smile, rolling onto his side to gaze at the totally nonexistent shrine as he rambled, “He doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s willing to put his life on the line to save everyone! Hell, that poster of him over there” which does not exist “doesn’t show it, but he has this big scar under his eye. Like this, see?”

             He twisted his torso to face Shouta again and traced a crescent-shaped line under his right eye, mirroring the one currently visible on Shouta’s face at that very moment, seriously how dense could a guy be!? “And you know how he got it?” Mic asked, and yes, he did. It was hard to forget having his face slammed into the pavement and ground against it by a Noumu while his students were watching nearby—

             “He got it protecting his students, barely even a full week after meeting them.”

             The sheer reverence in Mic’s voice silenced any snarky internal commentary, Shouta just blinking slowly. Any lingering traces of the dopey smile had faded by this point, replaced by a more serious look he rarely saw on the blond. “Eraserhead almost died then. I heard he was lucky to even still be able to see. I sent him a card of course, and took over his patrol route for him until he got better,” wait, was THAT why there wasn’t a massive spike in crime while he was gone, “but man, it was such a close call...”

             He sighed, letting his head flop back onto the mattress as he stared into space. “It’s just... He went to work expecting a normal day, and instead he ended up facing a giant ambush of, like, two dozen guys or more. And he just went in anyway, knowing he’d probably die. And that—that takes a lot of guts. Guts, and heart.”

             Shouta remained silent, just... staring at him. Slowly he slumped atop the pillow and rolled onto his side, staring into space. He had a lot to think about now.

              Night four of being a cat. Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed. Repeat: Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed.

             Don’t move, he silently commanded himself, staring wide-eyed into the darkness as he remained perfectly still. At some point after listening to Mic confess his undying love he’d fallen asleep, and apparently Mic had taken it as invitation to use him as a teddy bear. The sleeping blond had one arm tossed over Shouta essentially trapping him in place, the hero-turned-feline pressed close to his front. By “close”, he meant he could feel Mic’s breaths tickle the fur on his ears, feel his steady heartbeat against his back.

             Had he been human Shouta would probably be blushing right now. Actually, he might still be doing so underneath the thick fur judging by how warm his face felt. This was the most intimately close he’d gotten to another person in... well, ever. Aizawa Shouta was not a tactile person by any means. ...But even with his limited experience he’d never been this physically close to someone.

             They were sharing a pillow, for crying out loud!

             Part of him wanted to worm his way out and abscond to the couch, pretending this never happened, but... at the same time, he didn’t really want to move. Mic’s body felt so warm. The arm draped over Shouta didn’t feel heavy, but instead oddly comforting. The rhythm of Mic’s heartbeat and the steady rising and falling of his chest gently pushed against his back, providing a silent lullaby that put him strangely at ease.

             This was so illogical. Mic was a villain—well, more of a public nuisance, but still—Shouta shouldn’t feel so safe around him. But something about being pressed so close to the blond, half-covered by the blankets and with his head laying against the surprisingly soft pillow, just filled him with an odd sense of contentment.

             He could feel Mic shift in his sleep, unconsciously pulling Shouta just a little bit closer. “Soft,” he mumbled, the word slurred and quiet, barely recognizable, yet still full of a deep fondness that tugged at Shouta’s heart. He exhaled slowly before closing his eyes, willing the tension to fade from his body as he curled a little closer to Mic.

             Just one night won’t be too bad. I just need to make sure he never finds out I’m the cat.

              Day five of being a cat. Shouta took back anything nice he ever said about Mic.

             “How do you like your new bowtie Puddles?” Mic asked enthusiastically, hugging a very unenthusiastic Shouta with a giant grin.

             “Mow,” he replied dejectedly. This is the worst thing I’ve had to endure in my entire life.

             “I agree!” Mic proclaimed cheerfully.

             “Mow.” No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t be doing this to me.

             Now that he was aware of his current colorblindness, Shouta had no idea what the bow tie actually looked like, but he didn’t think any color scheme could make it look less tacky. It had polka dots. Nemuri might claim Shouta had a horrific fashion sense (not that he cared enough to agree or disagree), but even he acknowledged that a polka dot bowtie was the epitome of stupid looking.

             Sprinkles mewed loudly as she pawed at Mic’s leg, blinking up at them with those large green eyes of hers. Similar to Shouta, she also wore a bowtie, this one a sparkly sequined thing that might be either green or pink. Unlike him, Mic positioned it so the bow was on the back of her neck, which Shouta found to be a perfectly practical and overall lovely choice for a female cat. Clearly she was used to being dressed up, as she made no fuss over it.

             “What’s that, Sprinkles?” Mic asked, bending down and finally releasing Shouta from his hold. Shouta promptly began tugging at the bowtie with his paw, silently cursing his lack of opposable thumbs to aid in removing it. His tiny toes couldn’t get a good enough grip to do anything but pat it, much to his dismay.

             While he sulked over that Mic held out his arms, Sprinkles jumping into his hold without further prompting. As she did her poofy tail coincidentally whacked Shouta in the face, making him jolt and sneeze. He shot her a sour look, while Mic just laughed as he swept her up and hugged her to his chest. “Hey, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he accused playfully. The white feline meowed and bumped her head against his chin, eyes sliding shut as she purred.

             The accusation made Shouta’s eyes narrow, his glare growing harsher. Mic snickered at his expression before turning his attention back to Sprinkles, his grin softening to something more gentle and fond. “I get what you’re doing. You’re just jealous of all the attention I’m giving Puddles, aren’t you?” He adjusted his grip to scratch her chin and Sprinkles seemed to melt in his arms at the attention, a look of pure bliss on her face. “But you don’t need to be jealous. You’re still my adorable sweetheart.”

             As he watched the pair Shouta felt his ire melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. The love and adoration in Mic’s face as he gazed down upon Sprinkles was nothing but genuine, the relaxed slump to her body an indication of total trust and happiness.

             A guy who cares about cats that much can’t be that bad, he thought to himself quietly.

             Half an hour later, he rescinded that thought when Mic posed with him and Sprinkles, all three wearing matching hats and bowties as he tried to angle his phone for a good selfie. He silently vowed to get his paws on that phone and dump it in the toilet as soon as he had the chance.

              Day six of being a cat.

             Mic had returned from his job a few minutes prior, which was just as well since Shouta had unfortunately confirmed that operating a laser pointer without thumbs was hard. He had a feeling Sprinkles had been more frustrated by the erratic movement and blinking of the dot than usual during his attempts to play with her. At some point she’d clocked onto Shouta as being the source of her frustration, because she had decided to ignore the laser in favor of jumping at him.

             “Wow, you two did a lot of roughhousing today, huh?” Mic asked as he sat on the floor with Sprinkles in his lap, running a brush through her fur. Strands of black had gotten mixed into her otherwise pristine white coat, the usually fluffy and silky texture more ruffled and messy from their small wrestling match. Shouta himself looked no better; he could see white furs spot his paws, almost seeming to glow against his own pitch black coat.

             He had taken refuge atop a cabinet in the far corner to get away from Sprinkles, and now took advantage of his vantage point to just... observe them. Mic clearly brushed Sprinkles often judging by her reaction. She purred contently as he gently dragged the brush along her head, her ears briefly flattening beneath the bristles before popping back into their usual perky position. She leaned into the strokes, arching her back slightly while her cheek rubbed against his chest.

             The sheer love in Mic’s expression was visible to anyone, his smile so much softer than Shouta ever thought the loud and hyper man to be capable of. Plucking a few lingering strands of black fur, he set the brush down and lightly nudged her off his lap. Sprinkles hopped off his lap and strutted away, the blond watching with obvious fondness.

             Those warm green eyes turned to Shouta, making him stiffen. “Okay, your turn,” he said, patting his lap invitingly. When Shouta didn’t move he got up and walked over, stopping next to the cabinet. “Come on, time to get down.”

             “...Mrow,” Shouta responded in a surprisingly meek way. I would, but I’m kinda stuck, he thought sheepishly. Climbing the cabinet had been one thing, but now that he was on top of it... well, the drop to the floor looked much higher than he thought.

             This is so illogical, he thought sulkily. As a human he’d made plenty of larger jumps (with the support of his capture weapon of course), but as a cat the drop seemed a lot bigger. He also lacked the fine-tuned reflexes and familiarity with his body he’d developed from years of training with it, so he felt considerably less confident about his ability to safely jump from such a height without hurting himself in some way.

             Mic seemed to pick up on his unease, a small frown settling on his face. “Hey, Puddles, are you nervous?” he asked. “Here, come on, just hop on down. I’ll catch you, okay?” He held out his arms, and Shouta blinked, slow and catlike. Seriously? He was asking a cat to jump into his arms? The rational part of him scoffed, since he knew a normal cat wouldn’t be able to understand such a thing.

             But... the less rational, cat-loving part of him, understood. How many times had he tried to coax a cat to jump down from a branch, to leap right into his open arms, logic be damned? Seeing that earnest look on the blond’s face, the encouraging little smile silently asking him to trust him... It made something feel content in Shouta’s chest.

             And so, he jumped.

             His jump was clumsy and awkward, his mobility just as hindered by his lack of familiarity with this body as he suspected. One of his hind paws ended up catching on the edge of the cabinet, turning a would-be graceful leap into a fumbling tumble. Mic shot forward and caught him, the drop to his arms nowhere near as long as it would be to the floor.

             Shouta blinked dumbly as he stared up at the blond, cradled almost like an infant. He had a perfect view of the blond’s smile, relief clear in his face. “Oof! Almost slipped there! Don’t worry though, I got ya buddy.” He carried Shouta over to where he’d left the brush and sat on the floor, rolling Shouta onto his stomach with the feline settled in his lap. He picked up the brush and pulled off the fur already caught in the bristles before he began running it through Shouta’s fur, the strokes light and gentle.

             Shouta tensed, memories of painful attempts to brush his own hair flashing through his mind. Tugging his brush through particularly bad knots sometimes felt just as painful as getting slammed into the wall by a villain, and he didn’t look forward to feeling it all over his body. To his surprise the strokes were light and gentle though, each one strangely soothing, and—dare he say it... nice.

           He practically melted in Mic’s lap as the bristles stroked through his thick fur, Mic using his free hand to pluck individual white furs that the brush couldn’t capture. “I bet you’ve never been brushed before, have you?” he mused aloud. “You look like you’ve lived your whole life on the streets, you poor thing. Don’t worry though, those days are over.”

             Shouta gave a throaty hum, his eyelids sliding shut. It was exactly the kind of thing he had told his own cat when he’d first brought her home, some distant part of his mind noted. He didn’t know how much time passed with Mic brushing him, his mind slipping into a content haze.

             It felt like all too soon Mic finished, setting the brush down. He didn’t nudge Shouta off just yet like he did with Sprinkles though, instead pulling Shouta into a small hug. The mellow haze which had consumed his senses lifted slightly at that, a single golden eye peeking open as he felt the blond scratch his ear.

             “Hard to believe it’s been a little under a week since I found you.” Mic had a gentle smile as he stared down at Shouta, his eyes soft and lidded. “It already feels like you’ve been part of the family a lot longer.” His hand fell away from Shouta’s head, joining his other arm to wrap around him in a slightly tighter hug. “It might be silly, but I’m glad you’re here—it gets quite lonely at times. Pathetic, I know.”

             The blond gave a self-deprecating chuckle while Shouta just sat in his arms, staring forward blankly. Right now, he could feel nothing but pure love radiating from Mic, his genuine and powerful fondness for what he believed to be a normal cat quite evident despite only knowing “Puddles” for less than a week. And hearing him call himself pathetic so easily didn’t sit right with Shouta.

             Before he knew it he’d twisted in Mic’s hold and bumped his head against the man’s chest, purring lowly as he rubbed his head against him. He could feel the blond perk up, sitting a little straighter. “Oh! You’re a cuddly kitty!”

             Shouta just kept purring, eyes sliding shut as he felt the blond gently scratch his back.

             This, he thought distantly, was contentment. This was happiness. Just being in the arms of someone who cared about you, and showing you cared about them back, even if just a little.

             Maybe being stuck as a cat wasn’t so bad after all.

              Morning seven found Shouta rousing to consciousness slowly, his eyes feeling crusted shut and refusing to open. His muscles felt notably more sore than they had the past week, making him groan lowly and curl up a little tighter. Ugh, stupid cat body... He forced his eyes to blink open, and for a moment he was confused.

             Doesn’t the room seem a bit... brighter? He frowned, squinting blearily at the shrine (not a shrine, what shrine, those were just random posters of a random guy who happened to resemble him) which seemed a bit more colorful than he remembered. The sand crusting his eyes made it hard to focus, and he reached a hand to rub it away before pausing. Wait a minute, is my hand human?

             Behind him Hizashi slowly stirred to consciousness as the mattress shifted, a distant part of his mind registering it dip heavily to the side. A sleepy little moan slipped past his lips, barely audible to even the keenest ears, his eyes drowsily fluttering open to see something dark and furry in front of his face.

             Puddles? he thought hazily, but as his vision came into focus his still-drowsy mind quickly registered that it was not his feline. No, it was the back of a human head, a man sitting up on the other side of his bed. A flash of peach near the blankets drew his eyes to an arm with a starburst-shaped scar on the elbow, the blanket falling slightly as the man lifted his torso and wait his back was totally bare, holy shit this guy’s totally naked and he’s in my bed. Any lingering drowsiness vanished instantly as he bolted upright.

             “What the fuck!?” Hizashi screamed as he bolted upright, Quirk unconsciously activating in his shock.

           Shouta flinched and sat straight up, his hair whipping around his face in the voice-fueled blast of wind as he gripped the blanket against his chest. Well, the Quirk finally wore off at least. Okay, he doesn’t have his glasses yet. Hopefully he won’t be able to recognize you and you can just run before he gets them—

              “Wait, wha—ERASERHEAD!?”

             So much for that. As Mic’s voice devolved into a high-pitched squeak of horror Shouta rubbed at his eyes with a quiet groan, doing his best to ignore the sudden silence that fell over the room. After a few seconds past he turned his head slightly to look at the blond, finding him staring at him with an ashen look of shock and disbelief, mouth open but for once producing absolutely no noise. Only took waking up next to me in bed to finally get him to shut up.

             “So,” Shouta said awkwardly. “Got any pants I could borrow?”

[happymeishappylife]

DC CW Shows

I finally caught up on all the DC Universe shows. Quite an accomplishment for me considering I was 2 seasons behind. It feels good to finally get caught up to speed, but some of them are starting to feel like chores getting through them, rather than fun entertainment. A concern that gets amplified by the fact that the producers want to add on 2 more shows to the line up. So I felt like it was a good idea to breakdown my thoughts on each of the shows and what I liked/didn’t like. Plus then I will break down my thoughts on Crisis, because I have a lot of them. I’ll also rank these as I go as far as which ones I liked best, beginning with least to best. So let’s begin:

#7 - The Flash

I used to love this show so much. The first two seasons were a lot of fun and I loved all the characters so much. Thanks to the writing though, I can’t honestly say I don’t like this show much at all anymore and that’s kinda sad. Part of the reason is it became soooo angsty. Like the reason The Flash was great, was it was the antithesis to the angst on Arrow which made it so refreshing to watch. Now it’s like everyone must suffer some sort of pain over the tiniest things or worse, they become entrapped in characters and situations like its been haunting them for years when it only got introduced a couple episodes ago. At this point the only characters I care about are Caitlyn/Frost, Joe and Cecile West, Wally (when he’s on, which is like never), and Ralph. And that’s painful that Hartley won’t be returning to fill that role anymore because he was the only one who still could joke and laugh around like old Team Flash.

Season 5: Overall season 5 had a pretty solid storyline despite some of the angsty writing. After a while though I got pretty sick of fighting Chicada over and over again, especially Grace’s version. My one big pet peeve with it though was the relationship of Nora to Barry and Iris. I’m sorry. I can’t honestly picture any 20-30 something meeting their adult daughter and automatically assuming the role of an actual parent and treating her like a preteen. That always felt super weird and uncomfortable. Not to mention it happened almost automatically with little to no hang ups on ‘is this really our kid? Should we trust her?’ Plus then it created angst between Barry and Iris which I’m really over at this point in the series because their relationship was never my favorite to begin with.

Season 6: A hot mess. Granted, because of Crisis and Covid-19, the season probably didn’t get a fair chance to play out to it’s full potential. But cutting the season into two arcs didn’t do it any justice. Especially because instead of having character growth, I felt like a lot of the characters regressed. Take Barry for instance. The whole first part of the season is him prepping/training the team to take over for him after Crisis since he believes he is going to die. Only when he doesn’t, he assumes the role of leader still without actually leading. He stops telling his team members key details and putting aside the fact he killed the speed force, he stopped being a hero. The whole fight scene with Mirror-Iris, was so bizarre to watch. Yes, Barry would never hurt the real Iris, but she’s not and instead he just stands there and gets stabbed over and over, crying at the end that she’s not there. It’s really hard to watch.

#6 - Arrow

Arrow used to be in my top 3 slots as last I left it. The storylines were still on point. But leading up to Crisis and the show ending, there were some things that worked for me and some that didn’t. Still, kudos to the team for standing their ground and saying that we’ve told all we can tell, let’s put this show to bed and give it a close it deserves. It made the ending super emotional, but at the same time satisfying despite, Oliver’s death in the universe. My only complaint is the fact that the producers can’t put it fully to bed and now want to reboot Arrow all over again with Mia and the canaries. Don’t get me wrong watching strong women take more of the leading roles is awesome, but not to tell and retell the same storylines.

Season 7: The first half of the season when Oliver was in Iron Heights was not my favorite. Mainly because as it continues to develop it was like all the reasons he got put in Iron Heights to begin with no longer mattered. Diaz is still on the lose, he’s still playing his games in prison, and really what was the point? Now the second half of the season where we focus on his rehabilitation into society and working with the SCPD to track and take down his sister Emiko, was actually good. Too bad it got horribly overshadowed by a time travel flash-forward storyline to introduce and make us care about Mia.

Season 8: Obviously this season was the closeout season and the season leading up to Crisis. But I liked the way they treated it. They gave cameo spots and guest starring spots to former faces like Thea (she’s still freaking awesome), Tommy, Moira, and even Merlyn came back. My only complaint was that all of sudden we did have another time travel situation on our hands to meet our future kids. Thankfully I felt Arrow overall took that development better than the Flash, which since that was only a couple episodes and not a season, says something about the writing. Plus the post-Crisis pilot for the Green Arrow and Canaries felt a little out of place given everything that happened and a little insulting.

#5 - Supergirl

There’s parts of Supergirl I still absolutely love to pieces and the writing that are still doing it the justice that started the show by telling storylines of not only heroism, but commentary on today’s events to help push for progress. I love the whole cast of characters and think the acting has been great. My only complaint is with Season 5 and the fact that the show is beginning to find its tipping point of being less than stellar. I mean, I still enjoy it, but it’s beginning to show its where and tear so I’m worried what’s going to happen as it continues forward. Especially as it gets hyperfixated on Lex Luthor, who don’t get me wrong is a fabulous villain, but isn’t that Superman’s arch nemesis, not Supergirl’s?

Season 4: What a great commentary to tell throughout the season that parallels the feelings and conversations being had about immigration in our own world. I thought the idea of the Alien Amnesty Act squaring off against Ben Lockwood and his Agents of Liberty was not only great commentary but great story telling. I also loved that we got to introduce Nia Nall into the series because she’s fantastic and has become one of my favorite characters. I even love the twist reveal of how Ben Lockwood isn’t the enemy, it’s really Lex Luthor and his communist Supergirl clone. Plus Jon Crier plays an amazing Lex Luthor.

Season 5: Don’t get me wrong, the stakes and the storylines with Leviathan and Obsidian North, I do think are important and worth telling, but they detracted from the main storyline that developed at the end of last season which was Lena and Kara’s new relationship. Yes, it was still hit on and explored, but by far that was the storyline I was interested in seeing the most, not Ramah Khan or Virtual Reality horror stories. Also, while I like Lex, thanks to his antics during Crisis, the second half of the season felt hijacked and became this witch hunt. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to see what he and Lillian are doing, but I wish it played out more in the shadows and less of the actual screen time. I’m also glad Lena is back on Kara’s side again. But Brainy better not be dead! He’s one of my favorites even if his motives during this season were hard to watch.

#4 - Batwoman

I actually really, really, really liked Batwoman’s first season. Getting to know the badass that is Kate Kane and watch the horror’s of Gotham play out week to week was such a refreshing change of pace. After all, The Flash and Supergirl are undeniably heroes and must carry those burdens(?) as they fight for truth and justice. And Oliver was a vigilante, but while he took down drug lords, weapons dealers, etc. the stakes of being a vigilante in Star City is nothing compared to wearing the cape in Gotham. I loved the cast and seeing the stories play out of their past and how they connect to each other and also how some of them discover who Batwoman is, was fantastic. Even as creepy as Alice is, I enjoyed seeing the performance of the completely unhinged and psychotic villain take the stage to play out her twisted fantasies. I also appreciate the openness that Kate brought to being an out and proud lesbian, even revealing her super identity to a teenager to prove that it does get better and lesbians can be awesome is super freaking powerful. I even like that with the shortened season, it didn’t feel like we got robbed of an awesome storyline, but now we get to why this ranks fourth on my list instead of higher: Ruby Rose left the show and we get a whole new Batwoman. I get that this is out of the hands of the producers and the writers and I am super sad to see her go. But its hard not to feel like we lost a whole season of introduction and development to just reset and begin again. I’m not sure how they will handle it, but I do hope that a lot of the cast stays and stays in their roles. Especially Luke and Mary who are a great team. Mary is also like my all time, instant-favorite character because not only is she super wicked smart, but she has so much humanity in her so I hope she still continues on the show.

#3 - Stargirl

 Yes, yes, this show is still airing which is why I can’t speak to the overall season arc in finality yet, but I absolutely have been loving this first season. Again, what a refreshing new reality to step into and what a great new storyline to pursue. This rag-tag group of teenagers becoming the new Justice Society of America is a fun telling and already, the stakes of the Injustice Society are so high! Like I was expecting that it was going to be like the other shows where slowly by slowly we meet all the bad guys in different seasons, but instead it feels a little flipped since we don’t have all our new heroes on the stage yet. Still I love Courtney and her relationship with Pat as she discovers these secrets of his past and their new home of Blue Valley. I love her recruiting reasoning to bring Yolanda and Rick into this crazy plan and even her acceptance of Beth becoming the new Doctor Midnight. Plus, the show keeps surprising me because on one hand, giving these teenagers these powers to help them redeem their self esteem is a great storyline, which is why I was expecting them to force us to like Cindy since the beginning of that episode was leading up to maybe becoming friends with her, but no. Turns out she is the super bitch and super villain of the show and that’s kinda awesome. Also I like how because their teenagers, their secret identities aren’t really that secret, which makes it’s kinda fun, but also dangerous. We’ll see how the last 3 episodes play out, but I can’t wait.

#2 - Black Lightening

Talk about real gritty, dark, and powerful storytelling. I enjoyed the first season, but these last two have been a real punch in the gut in good ways and the writers have been outdoing themselves to provide heartfelt, real, honest emotions and discussions to the world of superheroes, compared to the other shows. And it’s hard, but the gruesome nature of the show also highlights some of the real struggles going on in the Freeland Community which of course highlights the issues in our own world around the Black Community. The whole spinal chord ripping scene will haunt me forever and not only because they keep replaying it, but because of how insane that was. The cast is also great and I love that at the end of Season 3, it’s not just a family of super heroes, but a group of powerful metas squaring off against the government and the most dangerous threat of all so far: Gravedigger. Gives me goose bumps just thinking about it.

Season 2: Now that the whole family knows the stakes of what they have gotten themselves into with Tobias and revealing the girls have power, I love the way we got introduced to the ASA and the pod kids as a menial threat while still struggling to take down the perceived ‘bigger threat’ that is Tobias. Jennifer also having trouble coming to terms with her powers and how to use them I think was a great way to explore that not everyone wants to be a superhero, especially in antithesis to Nyssa who is a full on badass as Thunder and Blackbird. Watching Khalil’s story in this go from obedient lap dog to a runaway and finally a victim of Tobias’ violence was hard, but I felt was justified throughout and made him that character you want to root for, even when not everything he’s done has been great.

Season 3: What a harsh turn of direction. A full on occupation of Freeland, house arrest, killings on the street, and an underground railroad of metas or suspected metas completely changed the tune of this show. Watching each of the Peirces struggle to find out who the ASA is, what their doing, if their actions are justified and if the Marcovian threat was real was really fascinating to watch. The showdown with the Marcovians too with a whole team behind them was also a nice change of pace, even if their mission didn’t end the way they expected. I think the amplified stakes though of what happened and what’s to come will continue to develop into an incredible show, minus one now big problem I have, but I will detail that out below when we talk about Crisis.

#1 - Legends of Tomorrow

You can fight me, but Legends of Tomorrow is the best goddamn shown on this network for one simple fact: They don’t take themselves seriously. There is no real angst and because of that it makes the adventures so fun and so hilarious that its such a great break from all of the other shows. Plus, because they keep swapping new and old cast members into the show, it always feels new. Kinda that Doctor Who spirit, which I love. That and because there are hardly any rules to a time travelling group of heroes who don’t really want to be heroes, you get ridiculously themed episodes like Bollywood Musical or TV Crossovers. It is what makes the show a total blast.

Season 4: As the team gears up to track down magical creatures throughout history, you get the introduction of permanent team member, John Constantine who I freaking love for his cool, aloof character and yet sarcastic and sassy contrast to the sunshine and bro-squad that is Ray and Nate. I also love that the season not only was about capturing these magical creatures, but fully rehabilitating Norah Dhark into a good guy now accidentally turned fairy godmother. To be honest, I definitely did not see that one coming. I like that fighting the demon lord also helped transition the show from Season 4 to 5 to fight hell spawn creatures. Quite a leap from the original Legends concept, but again that’s what makes this show so fresh.

Season 5: Part of the other fun of Legends is getting to see old characters get reinvented. I loved the storyline with Charlie and her reveal to be Clothos, one of the 3 fate sisters and the reason the ancient loom got destroyed. I also loved Tala Ashe’s portrayal of Zari in a different timeline because the difference between tech-geek, super smart Zari and social influencer extraordinaire Zari were well done. Plus we got another awesome bro-squad member in Behrad who I hope sticks around for a while. The only bummer was saying goodbye to Ray Palmer. Ray has been one of my favorite characters in the Arrow-verse and seeing his exit was sad and partly because I think it could have been handled better. Like don’t get me wrong, seeing him have to get approval from Damian Dhark to marry Nora was entertaining and I’m glad he isn’t dead like Dr. Stein or Leonard Snart, but I just feel like the exit was a bit rushed. The good news is, it opens the door for Ray to return and I hope we get to seem in the future.

Alright...... To end this long spiel, let’s talk about Crisis on Infinite Earths and what that now means for all these shows. Because unfortunately.... it can’t be ignored. And I’m sorry to sound pessimistic, but to be honest, Crisis wasn’t my favorite story and was too hyped for the end result.

The only show who came out better for Crisis, in my opinion, was Arrow. Mainly because the story of Oliver’s last sacrifice to reboot the universe was the only one that made complete sense and doesn’t complicate the show after it happens. Granted it could be because it was used as the show’s exit, but still. I used to love crossover episodes and getting the whole team together, but now because there is soooo much going on in each show and such a large cast, these big multi-night and multi-universe shows just feel scattered because you are constantly hopping around and between each of the characters and all the individual storylines don’t matter. Like remember when Barry and Oliver would actually talk about what they were up against? Miss that. That and Oliver, Barry, and Kara stole the show even when it was other shows turn to shine. Like Kate was hardly in it, even in her own episode and the Legends weren’t in it at all. It was just Sara and Ray which was disappointing because as Crisis was their season opener, you missed a real chance to have the Legends save the day. Don’t get my wrong, there were some great moments during crisis and I liked the nod to past versions of the DC characters, including Brandon Routh getting to play Superman again, but overall it just made chaos for things that don’t make sense post-crisis.

Like yay, all our favorite heroes are in one place and created the justice league to help each other, but once Crisis is over, nope sorry, no one can be bothered to borrow a hero friend. Like that makes sense for some shows, Batwoman for instance isn’t that close to everyone and her storyline is so rooted in her own family drama, that ignoring the other supers made sense. The Flash’s stakes weren’t high enough to involve anyone else, so fine. And Legends of course travel through time and so aren’t around, fine. But Supergirl’s takedown of a longstanding secret group of people capable of bending Earth’s elements to create catastrophic events, isn’t enough to at least reach out to Cisco or Luke for help tracking them? That seems underwhelming. Plus where are the aliens in all the other cities now? Or the metas in National City? That’s a pet peeve, but more so because of the biggest twist in Crisis:

Pulling Black Lightening into the Arrowverse. Like the shows writers and producers, I think Black Lightening works better outside the Arrowverse which was the intent and goal from the get go. Pulling Jefferson Pierce’s family and world into the same Earth as all the other shows, no longer makes the shows storytelling as strong and maybe it was because this was a last minute decision, but there is just no justification post Crisis as to why they had to come in. I mean, The Flash and Black Lightening have metas related issues, you would think that alone would be a prime source of teaming up. Especially when Cisco goes out on a worldwide quest to document metas, you’re telling me skipped over Freeland? And where’s our favorite Kyrptonian to fight for truth, justice, and the American way as Freeland is being occupied by the ASA? Oh, what too busy going after Lex Luthor? Sorry, I’m not buying that Kara Danvers ignores racial injustice. Like I get that maybe it was a way to be able to use Black Lightening later in cross-over events, but the fallout from bringing them in this season with everything going on is a huge mistake in my opinion. And heck, having shows exist outside each other is probably a good thing. Too many and these crossover events don’t feel fun anymore, they just feel chaotic. I think I’m with the Legends on this one: the crossovers aren’t worth it anymore.