#But I’m gonna make do with what I have the very same as I will do the next day

[iannmin]

What kinks do you think San would have? <3

KINKS SAN WOULD HAVE ⁺₊❆⋆ 최산

🏷️ ⋆ smut, drabble, intentional lowercase, size kink, praise kink, breeding kink (serious), lingerie play, somnophilia, cum play (LOTS of cum)

🗒️ ⋆ RAHHHHHH WTF I’ve been wanting to write this SO BAD!!! thank you thank you so much for the opportunity skjdkskdksk i hope both sides of your pillow are nice and fluffy every time you sleep <3333 also i just couldn’t help but put the edit of long haired san hehe

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆

PRAISE KINK ⋆

no offence but sannie would be on the number one priority list for those who have praise kink. like can you see how he folds and gets absolutely all squishy and subby when wooyoung praises him? like his cheeks gets all flushed and hot,, he’ll probably desire the same with his s/o, whether it’s him giving or receiving. and to be honest san is more of a soft dom, so he’ll love reassurance. just imagine every time when he’s about to enter you he will most definitely whisper softly “you can take it baby, it’s gonna open up so well for me, your pussy’s gonna feel so good, hm?” (and I’ve noticed that san loves to say ‘hm?’ after his sentence a lot in his voice lives and it drives me absolutely crazy)

SIZE KINK ⋆

sannie is a total sucker for size differences and he absolutely builds his ego off of watching his s/o squirm under his huge frame. like just picture him headlocking his s/o from behind, broad chest sticking to his s/o’s back while just absolutely pounding the fuck out of them and whispering dirty things into their ear ughh. and do you remember that one fanmeeting clip of san’s back facing the audience and wooyoung is literally holding his neck attempting to kiss him??? he’ll probably look like that coming home to his s/o from a long day of work,, kissing them at the entrance as a ‘I’m home’ type of gesture. and also,, that’s probably why san hits the gym sososo much, it’s really just to assert dominance and feel big

BREEDING KINK ⋆

don’t even get me started with this once :,) like do you guys realise how traditional san is? like in terms of family and stuff he seemed to have grown up in a very traditional household where his father was strict on him and all that. like just look at how much respect he has for his parents and how well-mannered he is,, and especially do you remember when san mentioned that if he had a daughter he would raise her in a very princess way but if he had a son he would raise him like his father did in a strict way? so anyways,, the whole point I’m making is that san would probably want to start a family early with his s/o so that they can have cute little family outings together, and he can be a dad. so that’s where the feral breeding kink comes in. like he just goes absolutely bonkers the first time his s/o let’s him hit it raw after their marriage, or even better, when he learns that his s/o wants to try for a baby, so he makes sure to absolutely fill their cunt to the fullest, even going beyond his usual stamina of two rounds because for some reason he keeps getting hard after watching his white cum seep out of their hole and dripping onto their thighs :( P.S. he might even have a sex marathon with his s/o on the week their ovulating just to maximise his chances of becoming a dad

FINGERING ⋆

okay okay, I know sannie is a clean type of person and he doesn’t really like making a huge mess, especially when you see how clean and minimalistic his dorm room is but when it comes to his s/o, all morality just gets thrown off out the window. he goes pussy drunk and fingers them until they’re making an absolute mess. and I’ve seen some people commenting that he has chubby hands like cheese-stick fingers but won’t they feel so fucking good when their up in his s/o’s hole? i bet the stretch is a whole lot better with thick fingers like his and it’s definitely enough to get his s/o squirming and whimpering, even squirting.

SOMNOPHILIA ⋆

sannie treats women with so much respect and probably hates non-con stuff which is a great turn-off for him. but somnophilia? that’s his jam right there. the first time his s/o told him up front that they like being fucked awake no matter when, he was slightly hesitant, but he probably discovered a whole new world right there and then when he slid his dick into their unprepped cunt, the raw feeling being absolutely addictive. so even on days when his s/o looked absolutely unsexy, wearing a pair of kiddy-looking pajamas, he will still have a great urge to pull down those cartooned pants and fuck them. he just can’t get enough of the moment when their brows finally knit together and their eyes flutter open, raising their head from the pillow just to see him wrecking their pussy open, and that’s when all senses and feelings process in their brain and they start moaning and squealing.

LINGERIE ⋆

just a bonus kink here hehe,, and not to mention sannie is not the type to rip open the lingeries because he respects how expensive they are, but he’s more of the type to push their panties to the side and fuck them <3

[keanusbabydoll]

JEALOUSY

paring: daryl dixon x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, dom!daryl, unprotected p in v, spanking, degrading, praising, rough sex, daddy kink, punishment, doggy style, porn with no plot

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: i’m so sorry for not posting but college was stressing me out way too much and i got sick a few days ago… but here i am- blessing you with daryl dixon smut ;)

MDNI

𑁍ꨄ❦❥𖣔✰༄⁂᯽𖦹☾♡♥✯☼᪥⍟ꨄఌ❦𑁍𖣘★᪥༄❁᯽✫

“slow d-down.” is what you managed to squeak out before daryl pushed your face into the mattress of your shared bed. he had you in doggy style; angry, jealous, aggressive. his dick was hammering into your abused hole in an punishing way, never planning on slowing down or going gentle.

“ya don’t get ta tell me what ta do.” he growled out as he gripped your hips’ flesh tighter and reached around your middle to spank your pussy, eliciting a loud, muffled cry from you. you were spasming beneath him, wishing he would be more softer. but not with daryl.

and all that just because you went on a hunt with rick. daryl knew that rick was interested in you, found you attractive. he told you many times before that he didn’t like it when you spend time with rick. he was a very possessive man. you were only his. hell, if it were up to him, he’d blow a fist to every guy’s jaw who just looked at you too long for his liking. but you were bored, daryl was out as well, so you decided to just join him, not thinking about the consequences.

“goin’ out with rick. fuckin’ slut.” he continued, his pace just increasing and getting even rougher. “i thought ya knew better.”

he kept pushing his whole length into your pussy as he landed a harsh slap to your ass. “count.” he said before gripping the roots of your hair, pulling your body slightly up.

smack.

his free hand landed another stinging slap to your ass cheek.

“one.” you whimpered out, body surging forward from the sudden sensation.

smack.

“two.” you cried out as the first few tears that formed in the corner of your eyes began to pour down your face.

smack.

“t-three.”

“ya ever gonna do tha’ again without ma permission?” daryl snarled, his grip just tightening and his hips started to pound you in an animalistic pace, letting out all of his pent up anger and frustration. you tried to wriggle out of his grip, trying to get away from his torture but it was useless.

“speak.” he ordered furiously as he landed another hit to your ass.

“n-no. i promise.” you moaned out, eyes tightly shut.

“good.” he mumbles before he slapped your ass for the last time, using all of his strength, wanting you to suffer and realize what you’ve done wrong. jolts of stinging pain cursed through your whole body and a scream escaped your mouth.

daryl chuckled darkly in reply and smirked pleasingly to himself to see his fire red handprint on your ass. at that point you were a whimpering mess but you would have lied if you said you didn’t like it. daryl pushing you to your limits was definitely something you enjoyed even though it was really intense.

with his hand still tangled in your hair, he pulled you up against his chest, hips still thrusting in the same, rough pace like before. sometimes you wondered how that man could have such a great stamina- you had been going for one hour already.

“do ya like it when daddy punishes ya?” daryl rasped in your ear, his hot breath fanning on your neck. “yes!” you squeak out, throwing your head back against his chest. you didn’t even fully register his words, being to caught up by the feeling of his cock kissing that one spot that made you see stars. a spot you didn’t even know existed before you had met daryl.

and the new position only allowed him to hit it better, to hit it more intensely. your legs felt like giving out and the pleasure you received brought you closer and closer to your release. daryl smacked one of your breasts harshly before twisting and pulling on a nipple, making you whine out in pain. “is ma lil’ slut gonna cum?” he groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his cock- always a sign for him that you’re close.

“fuck! yess, daddy. i’m so-so close!” you cried out, voice latched with desperation. you needed this release dearly. he had edged you for the past hour and your core was burning for an orgasm.

you heard him chuckle darkly as he wrapped a hand around your throat with a firm grip and turned your head sharply only to claim your lips in a messy, heated kiss. “beg for it.” he mumbled against your lips, his free hand gliding down your sides and hips before reaching your pussy.

you whined out in frustration but kissed him back hungrily. “please d-daddy! let me cum! i’ll be a good girl, i promise. i only belong to you, only you can make me cum!” you pleaded him, trying your best to hold your orgasm in, but with daryl rubbing your swollen clit, it’s almost impossible.

“ma good girl.” he whispered before pulling you in again. “ya are allowed ta cum.” he sped up his hips, the sound of your skin clapping together growing louder and his digits circled your clit faster. your moans and cry’s were muffled by his mouth and you were at the verge of cumming, just mere seconds away.

with a last thrust of daryl’s hip, hitting your special spot roughly, he sent you over the edge. you tore away from his lips and let out a sinful scream, letting him know how good he made you feel. your eyes were tightly shut as you let your orgasm crash through you, feeling it in every single part of your body. daryl fucked you through your high, wanting you to experience it to its last bit- but also chasing his own.

he harshly pushed your upper body forward again, grabbed both your wrists and held them tightly behind your back. his head leaned back in ecstasy, the feeling of your velvety walls making him go feral. he used his whole strength fucking into you, being extremely close to his orgasm. you couldn’t contain your screams anymore, the overstimulation sending shock waves through your whole body. his free hand gripped your hip as he used you as his own personal fuck toy, only thinking about his pleasure. “fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up.” he growled.

and when your walls clamped down on his dick firmly, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. with a guttural groan and stuttering hips, he spurted his seed deep inside of you, painting your perfect walls in white. your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his cum filling you to the brim- something you’ve always enjoyed.

finally, after a few more thrusts, daryl’s pounding came to an halt and he breathed out heavily. “fuck.” he groaned as he slowly pulled out of your slick hole, both of you moaning at the loss. he released both your wrists before he collapsed beside you, a hand placed on his chest- dearly trying to catch his breath. you laid there motionless, you were completely fucked out and exhausted from his sweet torture.

“c’mere baby.” daryl whispered as he pulled your form into his embrace. he snuggled up against your back, his face nestling in the crook of your neck while a hand around your waist pulled you in closer. “ya did so good for me.”

you didn’t reply, your mind was still clouded with the intense after waves of your orgasm. “i wasn’t too rough, was i?” daryl suddenly asked, sounding more concerned now, considering the fact that you hadn’t said a word or moved a single muscle.

“maybe a little, but i liked it.” you tiredly mumbled but still with a smirk plastered on your face. daryl chuckled at your reply and kissed your cheek, relieved that you enjoyed it. “i love you, y/n.”

“i love you more.” you replied before drifting off into a deep sleep.

REQUESTS ARE OPENED!!!

[wisegirl25]

I am SO tired of people comparing Timebomb to Ghostflower, do NOT insult my babies Jinx and Ekko like that

Timebomb absolutely clears Ghostflower anyday

First of all, I feel like most of y’all are just “drawing parallels” where there really aren’t many because they’re both animated interracial couples (black dude/white girl) with dimensional issues

Their actual relationships are NOTHINGGG alike

Timebomb has HISTORY. They were best friends, they were enemies, and they LOVE each other. They both have trauma and difficult situations. They live in a society where they face insane oppression and class struggle. THAT is their story.

No hate to Ghostflower fans but that ship is genuinely horrible and has nowhere near the level of connection that Timebomb does, it’s very surface-level imo like a silly little teenage romance.

And Jinx, as much as she was ready to kill Ekko, never sold his identity out to Silco even though she knew he was the leader of the Firelights…just saying. (Looking at you Gwen)

Timebomb is what Ghostflower THINKS it is

And when it comes to the actual characters, they’re not similar at all. You cannot tell me you can draw a SINGLE similarity between Jinx and Gwen (or even Powder and Gwen) that isn’t completely surface level. I can see where some people come from with Miles and Ekko (they both paint murals and are smart Ig) but still I feel like y’all are just saying this because they’re both black. Miles is an awkward teenager facing the burden of being Spiderman, whereas Ekko is the leader of a gang/group that is actively fighting against the oppression they as a group face to make their lives better. He’s shaped by his environment. Ekko is also genius on an insane level in comparison to Miles…

Anyways no hate to anyone who likes Ghostflower (or these characters because I may have dissed them a lil bit) but if I see one more person acting like the two ships are the same I’m actually gonna cry

And do not say “it’s not that serious it’s all for fun blah blah blah” because it is, to me it is

[coastershells]

S T E A M E D

IN WHICH — dallas needs to cool off. you’re very willing to help to the best of your abilities.

⚠️ : suggestive themes , and smut. the whole thing this time.

not proofread , made while i was literally dying while playing christmas games. / requested? | yes : no

── WC : 2.6k ★

you stare blankly at the clock on your nightstand , and then looked out your window. you had a straight clear view of the moon , and honestly , it was beautiful.

but even still , you sigh.

it was a friday night , and you were getting more irritated by the second. your boyfriend , dally was supposed to be at your house about..

you slowly take another glance at the clock. and it changes to midnight.

— yeah , three hours ago.

you grumble as you shuffle off your bed and head towards your door. seriously , how many times has dally set you up like this? told you to stay awake so you guys can hangout late at night? just to be ‘ held back ‘ at his job?

you can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep staying up for him.

you open your door slowly , trying to silence the sound of your old door creaking , and you tiptoe to the bathroom.

you take a look at yourself in the mirror , then groan. you think about showering , but you really can’t bring yourself to be troubled with all of that tonight.

you settle on just brushing your teeth instead , grabbing the toothbrush and toothpaste , while looking at yourself in the mirror. after a few seconds , the awkwardness gets to you and you look away.

you finish your bathroom visit off with washing your face and heading back to your room.

you expected to return to your empty room , with the same view of the moon and your dim lamp on your vanity.

but you don’t. you see the last person you expected that night.

dallas winston.

and your mood can’t help but just switch all the way. you were gonna yell , question where he was and why he was so late , and why he still had his shoes on while standing at your window. but just as fast as the words started to bubble up , they fell dead in your throat.

he looked.. mad?

well, he always looked mad. but boy , he looked pissed. you thought you were the worst of it.

“ dal? “ you call out to him and he shifts , looking up instead of down at the floor. and that’s just enough for you to see his face fully. his brows seem to go down , but it doesn’t help with his body language and everything else.

“ hey , sweetheart. sorry — fuck , sorry i’m late. i know y’so sick of me. “

you shake your head slightly , and walk over to him , placing a hand on his shoulder and feeling the cold leather. “ it’s fine , it doesn’t matter. what happened , dal? why do you look like.. “

he looks away from you , and his brows seem to knit together again. “ it was some socs. “ he breathes out , and you let your hand fall from his shoulder , staring at him. “ pulled some knives. got me good on my side , i’m sorry. i’m so , so sorry. i can’t keep making you stay up like this. “

dallas seems to ignore whatever you said after that , because he pulls you in closer and embraces you in a tight hug , but something clicks in you.

“ dal , they cut you? “ you questioned into his chest. “ yeah , bleedin a bit. i don’t wanna sit on your bed. scared it’ll leak. or somethin’ , knowing you you’ll make me sleep on that side. ya jerk. “ he replies , giving a kiss to the top of your head.

“ i’ll bandage you up , and i’ll walk you home in the morning. i don’t want you walking home. “ you slowly pull away from his hug , and he rests his head on your window , exactly blocking the moon. you head over to the box under your vanity and pull out a first aid kit , you fumble to open it before you actually do , and pull out necessities.

“ lift your shirt , and , uh , take off your shoes , please. “

“ will do , dollface. “

it takes a minute to wrap him up and convince him he won’t bleed on the bed , but he eventually listens to you , not wanting to argue and get more mad than he already is.

“ you don’t have to.. uh.. “ you play with your fingers. “ apologize for being late. it’s fine. you had a reason , a good one. “

“ doesn’t excuse it. wanna make it up to you , just.. gimme a second. need to get out of this fucked mindset. “ he voices , low and unsteady. and it makes you concerned.

then , a thought runs through your mind , just so briefly.

“ i could , help — i mean , i think? i don’t know , do you want.. “ you hate how much your stumbling over your words. but dallas seems to catch on.

“ really? right now? thought we were just supposed to ‘ hang ‘ , baby. “ he turns to face you and laughs dryly. “ kiddin’ , i’d never turn down a opportunity like that. “

“ c’mere , “ he says. “ take that shirt off. wanna see you , pretty. “

you snort at his comment , but you still take your shirt off. you lean onto him and he fiddles with your bra before sliding it off. you stiffen slightly before he rubs your back , slowly trailing that hand to your breast.

“ don’t be nervous. this isn’t anything new. “ he mumbles as he uses his other hand to place on the back of your head , pushing you towards him for a kiss.

the kiss is broken as he turns you to place you on your back , and you whine at the spit line that connects your lips. you swat at it and dallas sighs out a laugh.

“ gorgeous , holy fuck your gorgeous. “ he says as he ducks down to take your other breast in his mouth. you stifle a moan when you just now remember — your parents are still home.

“ dal — fuck — can a girl get undressed fully first? “

dally pulls away from you and eyes down your body , grabbing the waistline of your pants and urging you to lift your hips so he can slide them down.

knowing him , he slid down your panties with it.

“ asshole. “ you murmur as you feel the cold air hit your sex , and you look to the side instead of at him.

“ mmh , i can’t hear you.. “ he sings out as he puts two fingers to your folds, spreading them as you give another moan , this one not so covered. with his other hand , he releases your breast and goes for your hand , in which you happily take and grip onto.

you whine when he teases you , he doesn’t push his digits into you , he simply plays around with you. you try to use your free hand to urge him , but he lightly smacks it away.

“ patience , baby , or i’ll make you get on your knees instead. s’needy.. “

“ dally , please , fuck. you — you can’t.. “ you trail off and cover your face with your free hand. in which dally pulls his hand away from yours and flicks that hand out of the way. you moan in both pain and pleasure.

“ what are you covering that face for , pretty? i wanna see you for every second of this. “ he smiles at you , and you watch him go down and lick at your clit. and god , you wish he would stop teasing you already.

“ needa get some ropes or something next time i stop by , i’ve gotta keep your hands above your head. “

he takes another lap at your clit and you just think you can’t wait anymore. “ dallas — fuck! you — you can’t just — “ you arch your back , and you wonder ; when did you get so sensitive?

all your thoughts disappear when your hand reaches down to the back of his head , and you push. dallas seems to be surprised by your act , but hums as he lets you.

the next few seconds are followed by whines and moans from your throat as he wraps a hand around your thigh , and just when you think you’re finally gonna reach your high , after so long — he pulls away from you , completely overpowering your hand.

you sit up slightly in confusion , and he laughs. “ whuh , dal! why?! “ you whisper shout at him , and he eyes you down before responding. “ told ya i’d have you on your knees if you were impatient. c’mon , on the floor. “ he demands.

you give him puppy eyes and he shakes his head. “ if you do a good job , i’ll fuck you right. promise , baby. “ you give up as he fumbles with his belt and let’s his pants , along with his trousers fall. and you’ve forgotten just how lengthy he is , both in height and —

“ time does nothing but past , doll. “ dallas says , lighting a cigarette. how unkept could he be?

“ i hope you drop that on your fucking balls. “ you mumble as you drop onto the floor infront of him , staring up at him.

“ you wound me. “ he comments as he places his free hand on the back of your head.

with that , you raise yourself and wrap your mouth around his shaft and hold a giggle in your throat as he groans softly. the saltiness of precum on his tip hits you as you slowly begin to move back and forth.

dallas doesn’t stop you , and you’re not quite sure you want to stop. dallas shivers and let’s out a small gasp. “ doin’ — fuckkk.. doin’ well just , ugh , just like that. “ he praises , and if you could , you’d smile up at him.

you’d be irritated that he forced you to earn your orgasm if he hadn’t tasted so good , and if his voice wasn’t so soft and it didn’t do something to you everytime he made a unholy sound. but you’re more than happy to do this , to help him blow off some steam. just this once.

dallas swore under his breath , and you felt his cock twitch in your mouth , he jolted and released.

you pulled away once you were sure he was done , and figured spitting it out onto your floor wouldn’t be so good for future you cleaning up your room. so being wise , you swallowed his saltiness.

you looked up at him , waiting for his approval as he caught his breath , staring down at you. at the moon highlighting his features made it all so better.

“ did good , sweetheart. i’ll give you what you deserve. c’mon , up here. i’ve got another on me. “ he stretches his hand out to you and you happily took it. being on your knees probably took a toll on you ability to stand , and it’ll definitely be gone by the end of this.

dallas finishes off his cigarette and places it in a cup without looking. damn , you groan. it was probably your soda , too.

he holds you by your waist and hovers you over his shaft , and this time , it’s your turn to shiver , in both excitement and fear.

“ gentle , dally , gentle. “ you whine as he smiles at your figure. “ s’pretty , and s’wet. god , you didn’t even need prep this time. got wet just by my existence , hm? “ he teases as he finally pushes you down onto him.

you try your best to silence your moan , but it comes out strangled , and out of pure embarrassment , you do nothing but bury your head into his shoulder , though the act is immediately stopped with a hum.

“ we not doin’ that. wont move until i can see your face , baby. “

you whine as you grip onto his hair. “ dal , i can’t — my.. “ you whine as you buck your hips into his , and a groan comes from both of you. his free hand grabs onto your waist.

“ stop. cut it out. “ he growls out and you bite back a sob. “ my parents , “ you whisper. “ they’ll hear , dally — please. “

“ don’t give a damn , sweetheart. head up or i’ll let you suffer for this night. “

without seeing any other choice , and desperately wanting to be held by him , you take your head off his shoulder and look into his eyes. you see a look of victory in his eyes and he begins to move , and that’s all you’ve ever asked for.

“ god , dal , please. please just — “ you let out another moan , and this time you don’t try to hide it. you’re too focused on how good he feels inside of you , and the low groans escaping from his mouth.

“ please what? come on , use — use your words b — baby. that voice can be put to — fuck. it can be put to use. “ dallas manages to say.

you try to make out what you want to say , but the gasps and moans that come out of you after every word you try to make out makes it hard.

“ better not — better not be a complaint. y’basically begged for — fuck , for this. “

his right hand turned you both around and you were on your back yet again , and you just knew that he wasn’t going to actually listen to your words of ‘ being gentle ‘.

and boy , you couldn’t be more right.

dallas started off slow , but randomly got faster and fell out of rhythm once or twice. you couldn’t do anything but let the moans slip from your lips and get absolutely destoryed. the sounds of wet skin echoing in the room probably didn’t help the noise , and you swear you heard someone get up from the other room.

you wanted to panic , but you didn’t have it in you.

“ ah — fuck , gonna — “ dallas groans out. “ gonna — shit — “

even though dallas hadn’t said what he was gonna do , you knew what was happening. and you were just about there with him , a single final harsh thrust finished you both off , and just as that happened a knock that fell on deaf ears was as your door.

dallas did a final few thrusts to make sure what he had put in you stayed inside of you , and you slowly reached for his st christoper necklace , and pulled him onto your chest. did you slightly regret it because he was sweaty? maybe. did you care a lot in that moment? no.

“ y’did so well.. “ dallas whispered. “ better than i expected. such a good girl. aren’t you? “ he ran a hand through your hair , and was about to reach down , in which you stiffened.

until you heard a knock at your bedroom door.

ah , shit.

you’re definitely gonna be in trouble.

but you can’t seem to care , as you look at dallas , and play with his st christopher and then look at the moon.

and both are as beautiful as they have always been.

and honestly? that’s all you can bring yourself to care about.

BONUS SCENE !

you and dallas sit silently on your couch , your parents glaring down at you. and you look over to dallas who looks ashamed. or maybe he’s faking it. he’s good at that.

“ i told you to keep it down. “ you mumbled. dallas gave you a look that said ‘ shut up. ‘

your mom finally spoke up. “ next time you do this , do it when we aren’t here and sleeping. and for the love of god , use protection on my daughter , especially if you don’t like kids. “

you winced and dallas swallowed. “ yes ma’am. “

“ good. now go lay down. no funny business. “

you want to kill dallas right now.

AN : i kinda want a taglist. like nobody comments but if u wanna be on it lmk this little section down here looks so boringgg..

on a more serious note , see you all tomorrow lovelies !!

[lemon-lime-behavior]

Yes please!! Explain more! I’m so invested in the story and kids!!!!! Also thank you for being kind 🩷

No problem!!

welp, okay, put extremely simply and probably just a little bit wrong too because its been a hot minute and I have the memory of a goldfish, here’s the gist of it:

Sanji was born the prince of a kingdome called Germa (though it’s really more of a glorified mercenary group with delusions of being a kingdom) in the North Blue, the third of four quadruplet sons. His father king judge fancied himself a scientist and wanted to make his children into supersoldiers (via genetic modification) that could lead his armies and destroy his enemies. He wanted them to be super strong, fast, have impervious metal skin, be totally obedient and have basically no emotions. Perfect soldiers!

His wife Queen Sora was not stoked about this, especially after seeing what it looked like in their firstborn daughter Reiju, so when Judge tried to pull the same thing with the quadruplets she drank a special syrum to counteract the conditioning. Unfortunately it only worked on one of the princes, Sanji, and the other three (Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji) came out modified and were trained by their father into being perfect little monsters that made Sanji’s childhood a living hell. Sora was super sick fter all that and eventually died when the princes were very young. Long story short Sanji eventually escaped with Reiju’s help, got picked up by Zeff after Tragic Backstory 2: Starvation Rock Boogaloo, and eventually joined the straw hat pirates. Fast forward some more and there’s this whole *thing* that happens with his birth family trying to blackmail him into a political marriage blah blah blah blah he’s eventually rescued but now he’s very worried that due to certain circumstanced, his genetic modifications might have just been dormant and are now awakening within him, and eventually he’ll turn out just like his siblings, which is like, one of his worst nightmares. It hasn’t fully happened yet, but who knows!

So that’s all what happens in canon. What I’m doing in my own little fankids au is imagining that the genetic mutations are in fact dormant in Sanji and while they never fully materialize in him, they do pop up in one of his children, because genetic. So Kuina has black hair (because the mods include hair color changes and if Sanji was fully modified there’s evidence his hair would’ve been black) and she has unbreakable skin and enhanced physical abilities and she has… I guess what can be described as an empathy disorder? Like she experiences emotions differently and isn’t great at understanding/mirroring emotions in others. However, I don’t believe that makes someone a monster. Sanji’s brothers are absolutely terrible people because they were raised to be that way by Judge, who is absolutely a monster himself, entirely of his own volition. Reiju is not as bad as her brothers, because she had some positive influnce from their mother Sora. Kuina is gonna grow up absolutely surrounded by love and a lot of very honorable moral conviction, so while there will be ups and downs, I think she’s gonna be all right.

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 005 ; you wish.

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২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (1,441)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (reader getting more confident, ride along yay, more rin + runa arguing, KISSING, < who said that, past terushima x runa for some reason)

Two weeks after the first race, Runa invites you to another. You’ve been getting to know Runa and her friends a lot better recently— you’re becoming more comfortable with them. No more nervous looks to Runa, no more excessive use of filler words like ‘uh’ or ‘um,’ more comfortable laughter.

It’s fun when you go hang out with them. It’s become a normal thing for you to accompany Runa wherever she goes, and vice versa. You have friends now. College friend. Friends who race very fast, very cool cars.

You no longer feel the need to dress differently when you’re around them. Which is why, tonight, you’re dressed like how you would for class. Jeans and a hoodie. You feel comfortable, but you’re still weary of the eyes of passersby on you.

This time, Rin is with the rest of the guys when you show up. Your heartbeat speeds up and you have to take a deep breath before meeting his eyes. His effect on you has grown worse and worse.

“Hey, guys!” Runa greets, smile on her face as always.

You walk behind her, hands shoved into the pocket of your hoodie. “Hey, guys,” you repeat, nodding your head.

“Hey, Y/n,” Rin does the same, smiling at you.

Beside him, Atsumu elbows his brother in the side. “Hey, Y/n,” he mocks, snickering. Rin looks at him, glaring, and Atsumu stops snickering. “My bad.”

“Terushima is here tonight.” The voice catches you off guard. Kita doesn’t really talk much, but when he does it’s great. You like Kita. He’s nice and he doesn’t talk shit as much as the others do. 

Runa whips her head over to the white-haired man, eyes widened. “What?” She asks. “Like, here? Like, he’s here, right now? Racing? Tonight?”

Rin snickers and pushes himself off the hood of his car. “Yeah, and I’m gonna kick his ass right about,” he pauses and looks at the nonexistent watch on his wrist, “now.”

Everyone laughs, including you. There’s been a thought in the back of your head recently. Well, ever since you attended the first race, really. You can’t stop thinking about what it’s like to be in that car. In any car, actually. What it’s like to cross that finish line, to drift around the corners— the thought is eating you alive.

“Hey, uh, Rin?”

He turns to you, still smiling from having laughed at his joke. His brows raise expectantly. Runa and the rest of them turn to look at you as well. That feeling of being out of place comes back. You clear your throat. “Can I…” you trail off, glancing around at the others. “Um, actually, never mind.”

Rin furrows his brows, looking around as well. He walks over to you, puts a hand on your shoulder, and turns you away from the group. “What’s up?”

Your hands, still shoved in the pocket of your hoodie, start to sweat. You swallow hard. This is more nerve wracking than probably anything you’ve ever done. “Can I, um, go with you?”

He stares at you for a moment. “Go with me?” He repeats. “Like, ride with me? When I race Terushima?”

You nod timidly.

“Uh.” He clicks his tongue and turns around to signal Runa over to the conversation. Your face heats up. Why can’t he just answer you? “Hey, Runie. Y/n just asked if she could, uh, ride along with me. During the race.”

Runa blinks at him, then turns to you and does the same. Why is everybody acting like you just asked them if you could help them rob a bank?

“Absolutely not.” She shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous and, I’m pretty sure I already said this, but I don’t want to have to look for a new roommate. No way, absolutely not, I do not give my permission.”

“I’m not a child.” It comes out almost involuntarily. You regret aot as soon as it’s said. “I mean— I’m—“ you take a deep breath. “I can make my own decisions. It’s, um, it’s up to Rin. Right, Rin?”

He opens his mouth to talk, but closes it when Runa narrows his eyes. “It’s… complicated. Runa’s right; it is dangerous. We don't want that pretty face getting all messed up, right?”

Right now, compliments will get him nowhere. You press your lips together and look directly into Rin’s eyes, preparing for the loss of dignity you’re about to experience. “Please?” It’s just one word. It’s quiet, barely audible over the engines of other cars, but it’s there nonetheless.

His lips part, his pupils expand. His eyes dart to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He looks at Runa for a brief second, then nods at you. “Okay.”

“What? Rin, no. You just said I was right.” Runa tries to protest, but she can’t stop Rin when he walks over to Atsumu’s motorcycle and grabs the helmet sitting on the seat. He comes back to you and places it in your hands.

“Wear this,” he says. “Just in case.”

“Just in case,” you repeat with a nod.

He leads you over to his car and, before he starts it, he looks over at you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

You stare at him. Are you? Your life in Miyagi was boring. Routine. Wake up, go to school, go home, go to sleep. Repeat. Nothing ever happened to you. But here? You moved to Tokyo and were immediately taken under somebody’s wing. You had a new group of friends and a crazy secret in a matter of days.

You put the helmet on your head and look over at him. “I’m sure.” You nod. 

He smirks, shakes his head, then pulls his car up to the starting line. There’s already another car there. It’s bright orange and it might be a Nissan, but how would you know? They roll down their window and laugh loudly.

“Got a passenger princess this time, Rinnie? That’s cute. By the end of this race, she’ll wanna be my passenger princess.”

Rin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right, Terushima. I’m gonna beat you this time, just like I have every other time.” He looks at you and jerks his head towards the blonde man. “Runa’s last situationship. He’s a douchebag.”

Another wild laugh comes from the car and Rin rolls his window up. You giggle at that.

A woman steps out in front of the cars and you suddenly feel self conscious once again. You look at Rin, to see where his eyes are, but they’re on you.

“You ready?” He asks, tilting his head.

You take a deep breath and nod. He sits back in the seat, hand on the gear stick. The woman brings a hand up— the act is familiar to you now. She looks at the two racers, then brings her hand down. Rin’s car shoots off so fast that your whole body clings to the seat. 

The ride is exhilarating. Adrenaline pumps through your veins as the cement walls around you go by in a blur. The only thing you can hear is Rin shifting gears and the roar of the engine. A corner comes up, Rin shifts gears and drifts around it. Your chest heaves, eyes wide.

It’s not a long race. Less than half a mile, if you remember correctly. You’re smiling ear-to-ear, laughing loudly. This is the best experience you’ve ever had in your life, you think. Before you know it, Rin is just a few yards away from the finish line. You look back as best you can and that bright orange car is nowhere to be seen.

You let out a scream— pure excitement. Your skin is tingling adrenaline. You can’t believe it. Rin crosses the finish line and stops his car. Before he even puts it in park, you’re ripping off the helmet.

“You won!” You exclaim in a laugh. “You fucking won! Holy shit!” You know you look crazy. Your eyes are wide, your hair is probably a mess, you’re breathing heavily. “Holy— Rin, you won!”

He returns the wide grin, letting out a laugh as well. “Did you think I would lose?” He asks, jokingly narrowing his eyes. “Y/n, I’m wounded.”

You giggle and stare at him. He looks good. A little too good. You wish you could blame it on adrenaline when you surge forward and kiss him. You wish you could blame it on adrenaline when he kisses you back, cupping your face in his hands. You wish you could blame it on adrenaline when you lean back with another giggle, smile permanently plastered to your face.

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @vertejay

@tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig , @usbrous

@iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @velvetreds , @mysticstrawberryballoon

@h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr , @smiithys , @rriwyu , @twiishaa

@kissingkzuha , @massacremars , @ilovejeansosomuch , @anqelkoz

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 89

SURPRISE! Days 79 and 85 were secretly the same AU all along! And by that I mean- wait before I get into that. Time for a headsup.

So tomorrow is Day 90. And as you know I try to do something special for those, which of course can lead to my little ramble sessions to go on for much longer than normal. And while I won’t guarantee it, this is more than likely going to be the longest one of the whole project, more than likely even longer than Day 100 which will be the post marking the end of the project.

Just to give you an idea of what kind of scale we’re talking about here, Day 90 took me a total of 3 Months, starting its creation on May 8th, and finishing on August 1st.

Alright! Now that you’re tense and speculating what in the merciful name of all that’s good is gonna happen tomorrow, let’s start talking about TODAY's art!~

Anyway, so when I made Day 85 I was trying to really think of what I could even do with an AU where the entire basis is “Oh, they’re kids.” And that reminded me! I had the same issue with the Adult AU, even if that had a bit more ground to stand on with them being adoptive parents to the Warriors of Hope.

Then it hit me! Why not combine the two of them? And thus was born the Childhood Friends AU! Though you could also just call this The No Talent AU because hey, you remember during Danganronpa WLWeek when I drew Junkan for the Talentless prompt? That’s right! It was secretly a tease for this art! Now if only I drew something for them during their college days I could have fully planted the seeds for this whole pic in your collective minds. 

Anyway, core idea of this AU is the timeline is slightly shifted so Junko and Mikan (along with the whole of the DR Cast) are born slightly earlier, while the Warriors of Hope are born at the usual point they would have in the timeline, solely because this allows our two favorite lovebirds to adopt them. Hope’s Peak doesn’t exist, nor do the ultimate talents of course (Though obviously for some characters like Mikan they’re still partial to those talents. It’s just that they don’t reach the absurd levels of skill that they do in main canon). And finally, Junko and Mikan were positioned in such a way that the two were childhood friends. I feel like I worded that in a way far too complicated and excessive for something that was pretty damn obvious, but hey I like to ramble.

Anyway, I can’t remember but I think I said that with the Fantasy AU it was the only other AU aside from Vampire that I would want to make a proper Fanfic for. If I did say that, I was either wrong or lying, because eventually I wouldn’t mind telling some kind of story of this version of the characters. More than likely just from their child and highschool years, but I’m sure eventually I’d get more ideas for them in college and as adults. 

The obvious dynamic here is that Junko since becoming friends with Mikan has been protecting her from bullies and not realizing that Mikan is very desperately pining for her (Don’t worry! They get together before the end of Highschool!). Also Mukuro is there! She’s got a stick.

I’m envisioning that up till they were entering middle school Junko would call her Bandaid Girl, because as kids Mikan was the kid who always had Bandaids (both in terms of wearing them and just carrying some around on her person all the time).

And look! Mukuro is in fact there, and not just that but a shit ton of other characters! I think I was really starting to crack and lose self control at this point in the project. So I decided to also make this a mini story of Mukuro getting together with Sayaka and Ibuki! Who both generally go down the same path they normally would, though eventually Sayaka becomes an Idol Manager after a short career as a proper idol, and Ibuki of course is a semi-popular musician. Mukuro has acted as a bodyguard for both of them before and will continue to do so when asked. 

And of course, by the time they’re adults Junko and Mikan decide to adopt the Warriors of Hope, very legally, and they definitely didn’t hide any bodies (I don’t even know how much I’m joking about that here). Fun fact! I almost forgot to draw Masaru! Don’t ask me how that happened, I have no idea. I will admit when it comes to the Warriors of Hope and Junkan most of my interest is mostly in their dynamics with Kotoko and Monaca. Not to write off the other three, Jataro especially, but I just think that’s what hooks me more immediately. 

I really tried to load today’s piece with as much as I could, because even if I didn’t know how long it’d take, I knew for a fact that finishing Day 90 would take a very, very long time.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[bcmbiquinn]

THE FIRST FALL OF SNOW

Summary: Teenage Joseph having a high school crush/ falling in love.

Pairing: Joseph Quinn | fem!reader

a/n: This is entirely inspired by one direction songs from their first albums where they just yap about being down bad for a girl. It was also partly inspired by Taylor Swift song“so high school” and also simply about how sweet and pure high school crushes can be. There are gonna be more parts but be patient with me as I’m quite of a procrastinator and some times struggle with writing, anyways hope you like it.

Credit for divider: @fanguro

The autumn breeze rustle through the trees surrounding the school grounds as you hurried up the stone steps of the historic building. Your heart race not from the brisk walk, but from the anticipation of possibly catching a glimpse of him in the crowded hallways.

Joseph. He was the boy who made your heart skip a beat every time he passed by your locker, making your cheeks flush pink.

The first time you saw him was in English literature class, something about him captured your attention , maybe it was the way he rested his cheek on his hand when he was concentrated taking notes or how his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

Whatever it was, you found yourself studying him more often that you studied Shakespeare or dickens.

As you approached your locker, you saw him further down the hall, surrounded by his usual group friends from the drama society. They were probably talking about their upcoming school production of “A midsummer Night’s Dream” where he’d landed the role of Lysander.

You pretended to be very interested in organising your textbooks while stealing glances at his direction but then, he looked up and your eyes met for a brief moment, you could feel your heart stop for a bit, then you looked away as you could feel your cheeks burn.

As you walked toward your classroom, you remembered the first time you two spoke. It had been three months ago, when you’d both reached for the same copy of “Hamlet” in the library. Your fingers had brushed, you felt your body shiver and take a step back shyly. Joseph smiled - that crooked genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners- and insisted you should take it.

“You probably need it more than I do, I’ve already read it twice.”

You managed to stammer out a thank you and then he walked away. “You dumb girl, don’t you know how to speak properly?” You thought to yourself as you clutched the book to your chest.

That night, you’d stayed up until 3 am reading, imagining his fingers turning the same pages, wondering if he ever fell asleep while reading it, just like you were doing it then.

Since that moment you two have shared glances across the hallway or classroom, shy smiles and soft hi’s at each other and ever time you could feel your heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

Every morning like clockwork, Joseph would arrive at his locker -just three down from yours- at 7:45 and every morning you’d wake up early so you could arrive at school earlier and see him, you’d pretend to organise your books while secretly watching his reflection through your locker mirror.

One morning, you found yourself doing the same, looking at him through your mirror while trying to push another book into your locker that clearly couldn’t fit in anymore.

“Earth to y/n!” Your best friend Sara’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. “You’re doing it again”

“Doing what?” You asked innocently.

“Staring at Joseph like he’s the last chocolate biscuit in the tin” Sara teased, leaning against the neighbouring locker. “why don’t you just talk to him? Properly, not just those awkward Hi’s in the hallway…you look like a creep, hun”

You shut your locker with a bit more force than necessary. “It’s not that simple Sara. He’s…he’s so… I can even get a word out without shaking and my face turning red like a tomato” I let out a deep sigh. “He will probably laugh at me. Have you seen him at drama class? He’s brilliant! And I’m just…me”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Just you? You mean the girl who won the school’s creative writing competition last year? C’mon pumpkin, give yourself some credit!”

But you weren’t listening to Sara anymore, Joseph had just walked past you and as he did, he’d glanced your way again. This time your eye contact lasted a fraction longer, you felt time slowed down and then both of you looked away.

What you didn’t know was that Joseph’s heart was racing just as fast as yours.

[eachuisge-cc]

Catsim Lore Thing

Because a few people have asked and that's all the excuse I need to unleash my highly specific brand of neurodivergence on you all. A lot of the non-world-related stuff is lifted/tweaked from my much more in depth cathar headcanon masterpost that I made over on my other blog, because I've been developing those a lot longer and I'm fairly consistent in how I like to operate when it comes to fantasy cat people.

Obviously this is just things I've made up for my own save and what I have in mind when I make cc for them, and nobody else has to care about it. It's just for fun. If you don't like my take on them then forget you ever saw this and do whatever you want. There's no wrong way to use the feline cc well, except reuploading it or paywalling content you've made with it. that is the wrong way to use it.

But I love this shit so you're gonna hear about it anyway.

If you want to make your own or plop some into your world, CC and premade cat townies can be found here.

Biology

They’re not cat/human hybrids or some kind of magical experiment, they’re taxonomically just cats. More specifically they’re a species of felid that evolved to fill an ecological niche usually occupied by hominids the same way hyenas are felids that fill a niche usually occupied by canids. Form followed function and now there’s sapient cat people.

Consequently, like most felids, they have five digits on their forelimbs/arms and four on their hind limbs/legs. Their claws are not retractable because evolution sacrificed that for the extra dexterity of two finger joints and better balance while walking upright.

Their coat genetics work very similarly to domestic cats but with a few curveballs and genes unique to them. Some genes crop up more commonly in particular regions with extremely obvious/predictable distribution, so you'll see a lot of colorpoints in Mt Komorebi, a lot of tiger striped agouti in Tomorang, and a lot of bengal agouti and solids in Evergreen. How did this happen without deliberate color breeding? Don't worry about it they're pretty.

They slot more cleanly into felinae than panthera and can purr but not roar. They don’t meow because talking technically is their meow. Closest relatives would probably be cheetahs or other small wildcats.

They’re more omnivorous than most felines and benefit from eating a fruit now and then but they do still primarily eat meat and can’t subsist on a vegetarian diet. because they’re more omnivorous, most of them can taste sweetness. 

They can’t naturally interbreed with humans or anything else besides Sixam aliens, but I mean it’s the sims and science babies are a thing so in practice it’s probably doable. The tech probably originates from the aliens.

(sidenote, I view Sixam aliens as kind of the citrus trees of kingdom animalia. in that they’ll get down with anything that passes the harkness test and can produce viable hybrid offspring with a staggering number of other species, and are generally kind of biological chameleons)

They mostly don’t find it weird that people keep domestic cats as pets for the same reason humans mostly don’t find it weird that people keep monkeys as pets. I mean, don’t keep a monkey as a pet, but you see what I’m saying. if there was a species of domesticated monkey it would be fine. 

They’re naturally predisposed toward magic and have a higher than average percentage of spellcasters among them. they aren’t more gifted at magic than other species, on average, there are just a lot of them that have some aptitude. 

They don’t have a ton of sexual dimorphism, both males and females can range from very small/slight to very tall/bulky and anywhere in between. 

The main difference is that males generally have much fuller/longer manes (it’s more common to keep them long in Evergreen Harbor, but in other regions they often cut/style them shorter according to broader fashion trends) and females generally grow them much shorter and sometimes don’t have one at all.

They don't have eyebrows. Because there's already fur there.

NSFW Biology

They have very small breasts on average unless actively pregnant/nursing and if the game supported it better, they wouldn’t have them at all most of the time. Because I’m tired of slapping boobs on every humanoid species even when it makes no real sense to do so. You really just don’t see cat people walking around with humungous dobonhonkeros and they don’t sexualize them in the same way some human cultures do.

Their dicks aren’t barbed because Ow, but they do have vestigial non-keratinous bumps that make them look like they are. While they do have a sheath rather than a foreskin they don’t actually retract into it by more than a couple inches when soft. 

Social

As a species they’re very predisposed toward polyamory and less inclined to marry or stay with one partner their entire lives, as with most cats. Their family structures tend to be less fixed and more convoluted than the traditional human idea of a nuclear family as a result, with most kittens being raised communally by varied combinations of partents/aunts and uncles/friends. this makes them somewhat frustrating to manage within the framework of sims 4 gameplay. 

They’re promiscuous by human standards and have fewer hangups about nudity. As a consequence they tend to be fetishized/perceived a certain way by other species. Some find this deeply frustrating and some just kinda shrug and lean into it. Or utilize it to make a killing as escorts/cam models because hey the market is there. 

Look, the fact that I regularly make content for wickedwhims should tell you what my priorities are, in any given save of mine San Myshuno is a den of cyberpunk debauchery and everybody's fucking like maniacs. There's some porn logic going on here.

Relationship to the world

They aren’t really native to whatever plane of existence the sims world is in. Originally their species came from another world and entered the one they inhabit now via the magic realm. The population that immigrated was later cut off from their world of origin (or the world itself may have fallen to some sort of calamity, they have no way of knowing at this point) but were able to integrate into their new home pretty successfully. That was many generations ago and the kind of thing the current population reads about in history books, and has absolutely no bearing on anything. but for some reason I needed to know this. and now all of you have to know this. 

They have, however, always been seen as outsiders by the human population and the mindset has persisted to varying degrees throughout history, even though nobody alive today would possibly remember a time when they weren’t around. 

Because of this history, they’re well known for moving into abandoned places and/or ghost towns formerly occupied by humans and making them their own, the most recent example being Evergreen Harbor, which currently has by far the largest population of cat people relative to other species. They’re largely self-governed due to the nature of the place (though they do put in the effort to actually govern themselves, this isn’t a New Hampshire bear town situation) and their work in restoring the area has begun to attract environmental scientists and activists of other species to the town.

Cat people are also a common sight in San Myshuno, where they’re often associated with sex work and the entertainment industry overall. The same is true in Del Sol, though there aren’t nearly as many of them there, and the same reputation tends to follow them to varying degrees anywhere that they aren’t the majority population. To be fair, at least in San Myshuno the reputation isn’t really unwarranted. 

[alevolpe]

Could I bother you to do a dump of your thoughts on everyone's favorite undercooked and over-punctured hero, Chiba Mamoru?

Hmm, thoughts, i have a lot of thoughts about Mamo, but at the same time, not as many as others would think.

I like him, i think most people who follow my blog know this. He’s a very nice addition to the cast despite his many.. problems.

I’ll first address the elephant in the room.. he should not be a part of the main cast fighting along the girls.

Sorry, I know some people love that for him, but for me it just doesn’t work and he doesn’t organically fit in the story after season 1. He’s basically stringed along to be just the damsel in destress to motivate Usagi in most cases and that’s not compelling for me or is a good turn for his character.(there’s nothing there, there’s no character for me to care about. Just pretty guy looks pretty, wow, I’m compelled)

He should’ve been mostly done after season 1. After that he should’ve been a supporting character helping Usagi as a regular guy trying to go back to his regular life while being a loving and supportive boyfriend to Usagi. (It’s also such a missed opportunity with this dynamic that you NEVER see. A female superhero and his bf being the normal guy trying his best to keep up with wtf is going on with his gf and magic beings while also studying for his diploma, living the life of a regular guy trying to make it through school and his job and trying his best to also be a nice and helpful person to his gf’s team/best friends. Most of whom don’t have the highest opinion of him lol).

It’s genuinely what he deserves, he doesn’t need to be stringed along this journey as a puppy for Usagi to be chase after. LET THE MAN GET HIS HUMAN LIFE BACK TOGETHER!! (And maybe some therapy) His whole existence is not just Usagi/moon romance/future bullshit, he’s his own person ffs.

Sigh.. ok with that out the way I’ve already talked about my problems with the “miracle romance” here (tldr, I wanna keep it I like it, just workshopping needed).

Now, is there a way I could possibly organically integrate him into the story as an equal and distinct identity to Usagi.. yes.. do I want to? Not really.

In short I don’t really have a ton of interest in exploring that outside of the first season. That’s where his character gets introduced, where he has the most connections, with Serenity and with the 4 kings and Beryl, that’s where his character peaks and where he deserves to have his “happy ending”. My story is mostly centered around the bond around the girls and the world around them, not romance (even tho there are moments of it, yes, it’s not mainly a romance unlike the manga). Also trying to fit him without having the girls take an active step back is really difficult and has never been executed right.

In the manga him and Usagi are the main characters and in the anime everyone is written to be useless til he shows up. You basically have to scale down everyone else for him to shine and I don’t vibe with that.

Also also, in my version he has no Crystal. People have no Crystals, just the senshi. having a Crystal in you is a strictly senshi thing, him having one never made sense to me (if you like it, good for u, I don’t care for it, idc if it’s explained in canon). So he’s just a regular guy, he’s a smart reincarnated regular guy who committed a bunch of heists and some breaking and entering, but like.. tf he gonna do against a senshi.

TLDR: I like Mamo. Mamo is good, good character, but scale him down to supporting cast and make him a more supportive boyfriend to Usagi and honestly give him more of his own person outside of his reincarnation or future self.

ALSO SMALL THING BUT actually have him interact with the girls in some way, with different and fun levels of chemistry. Like him being awkward cause he knows both him and them want the best for Usagi, but like Rei.. is Rei, Mako’s pissed at him for being a dirty thief, Mina just fucks with him 24/7 and Ami, idk I guess Ami does kind of vibe with him, but like, they are both awkward nerds. I wanna see that!

[verynastyspoon]

DAD!SCOUT x FEM!READER PT.1

Summary: A christmas get to together that may be the start of the rest of your life

word count: 781

Authors note: I don’t remember how long after the christmas party was so I just said 10 years and sorry I got bored of the original scour fic but if anyone wants I might go back to it.

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10 years. Its been 10 years since the last time you saw Jeremy. You live a single life alone, no kids, just a dog but even in your lonely life youre happy. One day you get a letter in the mail from Jeremy Willis. You hastilly rip it open and nearly scream when you read the contents of it.

‘Hey y/k I miss you. I’m having a little Christmas get together with all the team and I would love to have you there.’

You are ecstatic and quickly pack all your things and rush to the airport with your dog. You had been alone for so long just the idea of being with some real friends makes you happier than you could imagine. You have “friends” but they have never fought beside you, almost died for you, and would do anything for you. They aren’t family like they are.

You get to Jeremy’s house on Christmas day. You can hear the boisterous laughter even from the driveway. You rush to the door and knock which you are greeted by a handsome (and very haircut needed) Jeremy.

“Y/K!” He gives you a hug. “Ive missed you so much!”

You hug back and smile warmly. “I missed you too Jeremy.”

You walk in and see kids running about “Wow are these all yours?”

“Hell ya well most of them those few are sollys but the others are mine.”

“Do…you have a wife?” You ask reluctantly because some stupid part of you still has a crush on the same man you haven’t seen in years.

“Pff those dead beats are gone for good. Im raising these beauties all by myself.”

You look in shock and a little relief. “Jeremy thats amazing.”

You all sit down eating and catching up on on eachothers new lives. After a while you find yourself on the floor playing with Jeremys kids. Tanya is running around in spys mask and the others are playing toys with you. Jeremy cant help but fawn over you playing with his kids.

When you look over and see him he looks away embarrassed for staring. You wave him over to come play, but a few moments later the kids leave to go play with your. Leaving you and Jeremy alone.

“You have a beautiful family Jeremy.”

“Thank you, you should come by more often youre great with them.”

“Maybe I will.” there is a long silence between you before Jeremy speaks up.

“You uh got a husband?”

“No and I dont have kids.” you sigh “I just havent found the right person yet.”

“I know what you mean, I got 3 ex wifes.”

You look up “3?! Why?”

“Well the first one cheated, the second one was a bad mom and the third left me for a woman.” He sighs “I just i dont know, I know 3 is alot but I just have so much love to give and no woman to give it too. But now I have my kids and I couldn’t be happier.”

You give him a hug “I love that for you Jeremy.” it stays quiet again for a moment. “You know, all those years ago I had a raging crush on you.”

“Really!?”

“Yes, but I kept it too myself because I knew you liked miss pauling. After you said you would move on I thought about speaking up but I was too scared too…. sometimes I wish I did.”

“I had no idea y/k, I wish you did because well I had a thing for you too.”

You both laugh softly at your obliviousness.

“Would, you ever want to go out to eat or something?” He asks nervously. “I know it’s been so long since we’ve last seen eachother but it feels like you never left.”

“I would love too.” You smile warmly.

“Great! But dont tell my kids I want to bring them around another girl unless I know its gonna work, you know?”

“I completely understand. Having in introduce a third girl to the family sounds like alot.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

The kids run back and jump on Jeremy all yelling ‘DADDY’

“Yes? What’s up?” They all yelled about some shenanigan Misha and Herberts baboon got into, leaving you alone excited for what’s to come

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[baneonono]

not to be emo about epic on main but I’m thinking about all the character arcs we’ve seen because of the project wrapping up with the Ithaca saga today(spoilers). Odysseus learning to be ruthless, Athena coming around to wanting to forgive, Penelope is forgiving Odysseus for the ruthlessness, Telemachus seems like he’s where Odysseus started but with Athena pushing more for forgiveness and with Poseidon terrified of Odysseus maybe he won’t be all ruthlessness. I’m just thinking about how all of the endings are different. No one had the same lesson to learn from their experiences. I think the main theme of epic might not be just ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves. It’s the lesson Odysseus learns and I think that that’s definitely something that can apply sometimes. But I think epic is more about, at least in terms of the ruthlessness theme, how everyone has different experiences and they all teach different lessons. No one life is gonna have the same life philosophy that makes sense, there’s gonna be differences and we see why and how that works and how that’s okay. Athena learns forgiveness, Odysseus learns ruthlessness, Telemachus will learn something else, Poseidon learns forgiveness and that mortals also have strong feelings and reputations(?), we don’t actually see Penelope for very long so we don’t really have any idea what she learned from her experiences but I imagine it’s not the same as ody and Athena. Everyone learns a lesson and it’s all different from each other and that makes sense, that’s okay. Life isn’t one size fits all, what works for Odysseus won’t work for Athena. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Specific life philosophies are a result of life experiences and will not be the same for everyone. of course this is just one interpretation and focused on one aspect of epic. we could of course talk about love and I have feelings and thoughts about Would You Fall In Love With Me Again in contrast to I’m Not Sorry For Loving You. I will admit that the titles feeling similar is what is bringing this comparison on but both of them exhibit this feeling of unrelenting love. we can discuss what’s going on with calypso and if she really loves him or all that jazz but just assuming that she actually loves him for a minute. both of these women hear about Odysseus doing awful thing and decide to fall in love with him anyway. But Odysseus loves Penelope and that is what makes all the difference. just if we give calypso a sympathetic reading, I think something interesting will happen with the themes. I mean both Penelope and calypso say “you’re mine” to Odysseus at some point, there’s gotta be something going on with those two characters as foils. that said, I do understand not giving calypso a sympathetic reading. which might actually bring up interesting parallels between Penelope and Odysseus where they both spent a significant amount of time being pressured and at the very least threatened with sa to betray the other and rule an island with someone else. very interesting parallels that you’ll probably find me ranting about here again in both interpretations of calypso’s character and what exactly happened on the island. but anyway happy Ithaca saga day everyone

[stansthemans]

Back at it again with the next round of teen fem stan. This one got away from me yall so settle in bc we’re at over 6k. Slight warning for Caryn and Filbrick’s A+ parenting, but its all mostly just implied

“Sweet Moses, Sixer, was that your spine?” Stan’s attention has barely been clinging to her home ec project—because honestly, she has no intentions of being a pretty little housewife and it’s not like Ford is going to care about table settings when they’re finally off having their adventures on the high seas—but she thinks even if she had been engrossed, the sound of Ford’s spine cracking as he stretched would have jolted her with the same intensity as a gunshot next to her ear.

Ford huffs a bit of a laugh. “I suppose I’ve been working for a while now,” he says, returning to his slumped posture over his desk.

Stan frowns and scoots off her bunk. She stands over him with her hands on her hips. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s always worth a shot. “So, what, you just immediately slump back down,” she asks. “Get up and take a break. You’re gonna develop scoliosis.”

“Poor posture is not the cause of scoliosis,” Ford says. “And I’m busy.”

“You’d say that even if someone handed you a multiplication table,” Stan says. She still has to think about it, but Ford has been able to spout all those things off without a hitch since they were about five.

Ford rolls his eyes. “Those are for babies,” he says. “This is actual work.” Stan looks at the paper and can’t make a lick of sense about it, but she does recognize the notebook as one of his pet projects. Something about motion and the senior science fair next year.

“Actual work that’s gonna give you a crooked spine,” Stan says.

“Again, not how that works,” Ford says. He shifts his shoulders, and something cracks again. Stan is already making a face at him when he looks up at her with a frown. “That was simply ill timed.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says.

Their bedroom door, which has been slightly cracked, is suddenly thrown open, and Stan both whirls to face the threat and steps away from Ford. The immediate spike of danger warning danger drops at the sight of their mother standing in the door frame, her purse slung over her shoulder.

“Kids, we’re about to head out,” she says. Her sister is having one of her biannual crisis that requires Caryn to drive upstate to manage. Their father doesn’t trust her to go that far in the car alone, so he’s dragged along with her. Stan has been looking forward to this. Three days without their parents in the house. Three days where she can breathe freely.

As expected, the twins step forward for their mother to kiss on the cheeks. Ford also gets an affectionate pat, but when Caryn takes Stan’s face in her hands, there is a slight harshness. “Stanley, the fridge has plenty of food. Do not make junk for your brother. You cook him a good meal. He’s too skinny.”

“Ma,” Ford groans, but he’s ignored.

“You hear me,” Caryn says.

“Yes, Ma,” Stan intones.

Caryn’s eyes are sharp as they dart over to her things scattered on the bunk. “Stanford, bubbe, you make sure she actually does that homework. And do not let her skip school.”

“Ma, she wouldn’t,” Ford says, and everyone in the room knows that that is a lie. If it wouldn’t get her in trouble—trouble that Stan can in no way afford—she absolutely would bug it off.

“Caryn,” their father yells from the living room.

“Calm down,” she yells back. “Two minutes won’t change the traffic.” She levels them with one more look, one more silent warning about each of their expectations, and then she’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind their parents, and even with the very clear undertones of that encounter, Stan’s chest already feels lighter. It’s better when Ford reaches out and wraps his hand around hers. “You don’t have to cook for me,” he says.

Stan smiles up at him, very glad that he’s there. “What, you gonna try it,” she asks. “We’re dead if we burn the house down.”

Ford grimaces. “There was not a fire,” he says. “Not a real one.”

“Facts are facts, Stanford,” she teases. “Old lady Fitzgerald called the fire department.”

Ford blushes as he scoffs. It’s very cute. “That hardly counts. She’s always been an over-dramatic busybody.”

Stan laughs and squeezes his hand. “I don’t actually mind it,” she says. Stan’s hackles raise every time someone yaps at her about being a sweet little housewife, but this is the one part of it she doesn’t mind. Everyone’s got to eat, after all, and there’s a lot about cooking that she honestly finds soothing, especially when she’s just doing it for her and her brother.

Stan goes out into the kitchen and takes stock of what they have. There’s a slab of chuck that isn’t too big, so she pulls that out along with potatoes and carrots. She’s done this plenty of times, so it’s hardly fifteen minutes later that everything is in the oven. Stan heads back into their room. “If you’re good with a later dinner, I’ve got a roast going.”

Ford is back at the desk. “That’s perfect,” he says. “Yours always turns out very well.” If that little compliment maybe puts an extra spring in her step as she walks back to her bunk, well, so be it. Stan has always soaked up compliments from her brother.

They continue to each work in a comfortable silence. Stan is quick to abandon her homework, shifting her attention between other things. Comics, doodling on an art pad that Ford lets her borrow sometimes, filing her nails down, flipping through magazines. Every once in a while she hops up to check in on the roast. She takes stock of the other groceries and plans out the rest of their dinners.

She’ll need to do a bit of rearranging some things, maybe even make one quick trip to the store. Her mother prefers to cook large meals, things that they can’t possibly all eat in one sitting or even two. Caryn’s busiest call hours are in the evenings and nights, times when she should be wrapping up cooking, serving her family, and seeing that things get cleaned up. It’s not really feasible to do that every night, so she’s a leftovers type of person.

Stan doesn’t like that. She’d rather have to prep and cook and clean every time because that means something fresh. And yeah, so what, Ford always smiles up at her and thanks her for whatever she’s made, no matter how complicated or simple.

When she finally pulls the roast out of the oven, Stan congratulates herself. It looks perfect, and there should be just enough for their two portions tonight and a quick lunch tomorrow. She spoons everything up into bowls and puts the pot in the sink to soak and deal with later.

“Room service,” Stan calls as she breezes into their room with the bowls balanced on her palms. She has napkins between them and her hands, but the heat is already seeping through quickly, so she deposits Ford’s down on the desk with maybe a bit too loud of thump.

Ford blinks owlishly at the bowl and then her as she settles onto the stool by the desk. “Already,” he asks, pulling back his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

“It’s been three hours, Poindexter,” Stan says, jabbing her fork in his direction. “Three hours closer to your scoliosis onset.”

Ford rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother correcting her this time. He hooks a finger onto the rim of the bowl and pulls it closer. He looks in and takes a deep breath. “This smells amazing, Stanley, thank you.”

Yeah, she preens. So what. “Oh, wait, I forgot about drinks,” Stan says, leaping back up.

Ford starts to turn. “I can go get—“

“No, I’ve got it,” Stan hollers back, already to the door. She knows that their old man has beers in the fridge, and for just a second she toys with grabbing a few just to mess with Ford, but she decides against it quickly. It feels like something Filbrick would just sense that she touched, and she in no way wants to deal with the fallout from that. Besides, nothing wrong with a nice, cold glass of milk.

“Your cow juice, sir,” Stan says as she presents the glass to Ford with a mockery of a fancy waiter’s bow.

Ford snorts in that way he does when he’s laughing but doesn’t want to. “You say the weirdest things,” he says, taking the glass. He inclines his head towards her bowl. “Did you actually get enough for yourself? Mine has a lot more.”

“Yeah, there’s a point to that,” Stan says. “Protein—“ She points at the bowl. “—meet bones.” She points at his scrawny arm. Ford levels her with a look, but Stan just grins at him. “Come on, Sixer. Can’t hurt you. Pa’s still making you take the boxing lessons, so you might as well do a little extra to reap the benefits.”

“That aside,” Ford says stuffily. “Do you have enough?”

“More than Ma would let me eat,” Stan says. “But, hey, I’m already reaping the benefits.” She lifts her arms up and flexes, knowing exactly the reaction she’s going to get.

Ford’s eyes lock onto her biceps sharply. They both take the boxing lessons, but Stan is so much more serious about it. There are multiple reasons, but really, she does love it. She loves the anticipation, sizing up her opponents. She loves the sweating and buzz of adrenaline, the feeling of her fists landing a solid punch, even a solid punch landing on her. She loves that it’s a place she can actually focus, that she’s good at it, that all of her other inadequacies can melt away when she steps into the ring, that at least in there it doesn’t matter that she’s too loud, too brash, too unladylike.

She really likes that it makes her body look a certain way and that Ford likes it. He’s never said anything, but Stan catches him staring at her arms and shoulders a lot with a hungry look in his eyes. Everyone else makes snide comments, but Ford likes how she looks. And if Ford likes it, well, that’s all that Stan needs.

Stan flexes once more and wags her eyebrows. Ford’s cheeks go pink and he clears his throat, sliding his hands around his bowl tightly. Stan laughs and lowers her arms to take her bowl too. “Ok,” she says, done teasing. “Bone appetite.”

“Sweet Moses,” Ford mutters, clearly done with her. Stan laughs and stabs a good chunk of meat with her fork.

Eating dinner just the two of them is nice. The house being empty besides them is nice. They can just sit there and talk and goof around and not have to worry about either of their parents walking into the room and bringing with them waves of tension. They can move through the house when they’re done, Stan going to the kitchen to clean and Ford making the rounds downstairs to ensure everything is locked up, without tiptoeing and keeping their eyes down.

One day it’s going to always be like this. Just the two of them. Free and happy. The smell of salty sea air all around them and the floor rocking under them with the the pull of the waves.

When Stan walks back into their room, Ford is standing before his desk, looking ready to get right back into his work. But he’s stretching first, using one hand to lock onto the opposite wrist behind his back and arching. There’s a notable wince as something cracks.

“OK, that’s enough,” Stan says.

Ford drops his hands. “Stanley—“

She throws up a finger, jabbing it in the direction of his chest. “Don’t you Stanley me,” she says. “You’ve been hunched over all that nerd junk for hours. Call it quits for the night.”

“I really only have just a bit more,” Ford tries, inching his way back to his seat. Stan tries to intercept him, but he drops down into it too quickly and then grins up at her. He knows as well as she does that yes, she can definitely take him in a wrestling match, but if he decides to go boneless—which based on that grin, Stan knows is his play—she isn’t going to have much luck moving him. He’s a scrawny nerd, but he’s still decently heavy and is still growing. She teases him about being skin and bones, but Stan can tell. Ford is going to be broad like their dad and Shermie when he’s done growing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she chides over him, and Ford just laughs.

“You can’t have the monopoly,” he says. He picks up his pencil and starts back at his notebook. Then he startles a bit when Stan drops her hands over his shoulders. They really are bigger than she gives him credit for. He has a shirt on, but she knows there’s some muscle definition there too. She moves one hand, just enough that she can drag her thumb over the skin right above his collar. “Stanley.”

“How about a deal,” she asks. “You can keep being a nerd, but I’m gonna give you a back rub. Really, it’s best of both worlds for you.”

“It’s distracting,” Ford says. “If you’d just let me finish working—“

Stan digs her fingers into Ford’s neck to cut him off. It works. He lets out this sound, something close to a moan, and it makes Stan’s stomach swoop. But she also winces at the tightness of the muscles. “Cripes, Poindexter,” she says, kneading lightly over a knot in his neck, her other hand squeezing his traps. “I don’t care what you say about scoliosis. This shit can’t be good for you.”

Ford hangs his head, breathing a little bit harder through his nose as she continues to move her hands. “Possibly,” he says. “But you don’t have to do this.”

Stan scratches lightly at the hair on the back of his neck. “Does it feel nice,” she asks.

“Yes,” he says, almost like he doesn’t want to admit it.

Stan leans down, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “You always help me when I’m aching,” she says. “Let me help you for once.”

Ford reaches back and grabs one of her hands. He turns his head and kisses her palm. “You say that like you’ve never helped me before.”

“You just fight me more on it now,” Stan says, careful to keep any hurt from her voice. That’s not the point of this, even if it does eat at her every time that Ford insists he can take care of himself, that he doesn’t need his little sister to swoop in and shield him from anything.

Ford doesn’t say anything to that, but he also doesn’t stop her when she brings her hand back to his shoulders and kneads her thumbs into the tension knotting just under the skin. Stan moves her hands slowly over him, working carefully with the knots. She’s had a few nasty ones in her day. She knows how they can hurt when they’re getting worked out. Ford hisses at the pressure, and she whispers, “Sorry. I know.”

“It’s ok,” Ford says.

“Do you want me to leave it,” she asks. He shakes his head. Stan kisses the back of his head again and applies more pressure. Ford tenses, grunting a little until suddenly he relaxes. “Better,” Stan asks, and he nods. “Good.”

Stan moves her hands up and down Ford’s back, dipping under the collar of his shirt when she’s up near his neck. His skin is warm, and when she’s touching him like that, his breath picks up more. Stan’s does too. Her chest feels tight, in a very good and specific way. It feels like a risk, like something very, very huge that could go very, very bad, but Stan tries. “It—“ She clears her throat. Her voice is usually a little too deep and raspy, but that was something else. “It might be better without this.”

She tugs just a bit at the sleeve of Ford’s shirt, and for a moment, they both are very still. Then, Ford nods, and Stan slides her hands down his sides, down to where his shirt is tucked into his pants. She digs her fingers into the material and pulls it out, pulls it up. Ford lifts his arms. As it goes over his head, it knocks his glasses aside and ruffles his hair. Stan takes a moment to right them first before she returns her hands to his body.

It’s immediately different. If this was innocent at first—and Stan doesn’t really know that it was—it doesn’t feel that way now. Ford’s skin isn’t just warm, it’s hot and softer than it should be even with the hair that is definitely growing in thicker and thicker. Stan drags her hands over his back, along the sides of his spine, tracing the muscles under his skin. She watches—feels—as his back expands with every deep breath.

Stan definitely can’t call it innocent anymore when she curls her hands over his shoulders, over towards his chest. Ford sits back, leaning against her as she trails her fingers over his pecs, stopping just short of his stomach. She moves her hands back up, scratching her nails lightly over his skin, through his chest hair. Stan’s hands go back up his neck, into his hair, then back down again.

Ford is breathing hard, and so is she because from her vantage point she can see very clearly that the crotch of his pants is much, much tighter than it should be. Ford is hard. All from just her hands. Just on his torso.

“I could help with that too,” Stan whispers, and Ford is very nearly trembling under her. Of course, she’s no better staring down at the way his pants are straining against his erection.

“You don’t have to,” Ford says, his head pillowed against her chest.

“What if I want to,” she asks.

Ford growls. He actually growls, and it sends a jolt down Stan’s spine. His hands go for his belt, and Stan hurries around the chair, crouching down in front of him, between his splayed legs. She reaches up to help him tug everything out of the way. When his hard dick springs free, for a moment, they both just stare at it.

Stan has never seen an erect cock before. Sure, she’s seen some things. She’s shared a room with her brother for their entire lives, and yeah, lately, they’ve been getting into things with each other, but not like this. All of their humping has been with clothes on. Yeah, Ford has touched her, slipped his hands into her panties, but they’ve always stayed on. And before today, she hasn’t been brave enough to return the favor.

Looking at him now, hard and pink and leaking at the top, what in the hell has she been waiting for?

“Stan,” Ford starts to say and then hisses when Stan reaches out and wraps her fingers around him. It’s softer than Stan expected, heavier. And hot. Ford runs hot in general, but his cock is on fire. Stan strokes lightly, watching as the bead of pre-cum grows until it’s heavy enough for gravity to pull it down, trailing along the underside of Ford’s cock head.

Stan keeps her grip loose. Guys are sensitive down there, right? She doesn’t want to squeeze him too tight and hurt him. Unless, maybe it’s too loose? “Is this ok,” she asks, surprised by her own breathlessness.

“Yeah,” Ford pants, his fists clenched hard enough that his knuckles are a stark white.

“Should I—“ Stan doesn’t really know what to do here, and she feels a bit ridiculous. Ford always seems to know when he touches her. He just does it, and it lights up every single nerve in her body in the best of ways.

“Here,” he offers, wrapping his hand around hers. He guides her, adjusting her grip a little tighter, moving just a little faster. “There—that’s—God, Stanley.”

Stan clings to the loose material of Ford’s pants bunched up over his thigh. She doesn’t know what to stare at. The way Ford’s eyes are locked onto her, his lids heavy but gaze still sharply focused. The pink flush spreading over his cheeks. His teeth digging into his bottom lip. The way his chest heaves with the force of his breathing, his stomach clenching. Or his cock. The color, the way the skin moves up over the head. The vein on the underside. The way her fingers can’t quite fully wrap around it. Stan has nothing to compare it to but does Ford have a big dick?

The tip of Ford’s cock leaks the longer she strokes him, and it’s hypnotic, fully entrancing. It makes Stan’s mouth water even as her throat feels dry. She doesn’t really think. She just leans forward, her tongue out to taste it.

“Fuck,” Ford shouts. His hands grab at her, one clinging to her arm, the other gripping her hair.

For a moment, they are both still. Ford stares down at her with wild eyes, his pupils blown so wide his eyes are almost entirely black. And Stan, well, she’s had her hair pulled before in a way that has been very, very bad, but this—Ford staring down at her like this, his hand in her hair like this—

Stan closes her lips over Ford’s cock, and the noise he makes—a groan from deep in his chest—shakes Stan down to her core. Her stomach twists, molten hot arousal pooling between her legs. She lowers her head, taking more of him into her mouth, and Ford gasps. “Stanley, oh fuck!”

Stan bobs her head, dragging her lips up and down the shaft of Ford’s cock, her tongue pressed flat to the underside. Ford’s hand slides through her hair, over her cheeks, brushing against where her lips stretch around him. “Stanley, God, this is—you feel so good.” She tries to take more of him, and Ford’s hips buck up. Stan chokes a bit, and quickly, Ford stills himself. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “Sorry, I—“

But Stan does it again because even though he was nearly to her throat, that felt good. That felt really good. Ford’s hands are both in her hair now, clinging, not too tight, just the right amount. “Stan, Stanley, I’m—I’m gonna—“

Stan moans, her entire body on fire. Yes, she wants that desperately. She wants him to come in her mouth. She wants to make Ford feel good, wants to feel him come, wants to taste it.

Stan hollows her cheeks, actually sucking hard, and Ford comes with a shout. Stan watches his face, absolutely awed at how beautiful he looks, cheeks flushed a deep red, sweat beading on his brow, eyes finally slipping closed in pleasure. She keeps her lips closed around him, using her hand to gently stroke him through it as spurts of his semen coat the inside of her mouth. Stan wouldn’t exactly call it a good taste, but it’s Ford, and she made him feel like that.

Ford collapses back into the chair, his chest heaving as if he’s just sprinted a mile. Slowly, Stan pulls herself off him, swallowing as she goes. Ford stares down at her like she’s just done something amazing. Maybe she has.

She wonders if she should stand up, move away, but Stan just stays seated there between Ford’s legs. She drops her head down to rest on his thigh, and they just stare at each other, both trying to catch their breaths.

Stan just sucked Ford’s cock.

She should maybe be freaking out about that a little. A lot. Because he’s her twin brother. And this—this is well outside of the boundaries of what happens when she’s on her period. Hell, it’s well outside of the light groping and stolen kisses that have become increasingly frequent over the past few months. She should be freaking out a whole lot about this.

But.

One of Ford’s hands is slowly dragging through her hair, almost petting her. His other is at her cheek, thumb tracing light circles. And he’s looking down at her like she’s something precious. He’s looking at her like she’s something that could be adored.

It should be wrong. Anyone else would say that this is wrong, but Stan feels so perfectly right. This is where she’s meant to be. This is what she’s meant to be doing. The entire reason she exists is to love Ford. If Ford knows that she loves him, then she has done everything she needs to do in life. Nothing else matters.

Stan smiles at him, and Ford smiles back. Everything is all right. Everything is perfect. They are supposed to be like this. They were made to be like this.

“Are you ok,” Ford asks, and he sounds wrecked. The heat in Stan’s stomach flares again. She did that. She made him sound like that, and this was only the first time. God, what could she do with some practice? The thought makes her incredibly aware of how much slickness has pooled between her legs, and Ford hasn’t even touched her.

Stan nods. She is more than ok. She runs her tongue along her bottom lip, and she can still taste Ford there. His eyes zero in on it, his thumb trailing along after her tongue. Her hand, the one that had been locked in a death grip on his pants, slides up his leg. She wants to touch his skin again, feel that warmth against her.

“You’re hard again,” Stan says lowly, pointing out the very increasingly obvious.

“Well,” Ford says, his hand still stroking through her hair, “I’m sixteen, and a very pretty girl is lying with her face in very close proximity to my crotch.”

It’s dumb that that’s the thing that makes her blush, not when her brother came down her throat, but that’s just kind of how it works with her feelings about Ford.

Ford touches where the blush is staining her cheeks. “You don’t have to do anything else. Stanley, that was—that was amazing.”

She doesn’t have to. He always says that, always gives her the out. But she wants to.

Stan makes a decision. She pulls off her shirt and bra. Then, as she stands up, she pushes down her shorts and panties. Ford stares up at her with wide eyes, his pupils blown. “God,” he breathes, and he reaches for her. His hand slides between her legs, as he’s done before, but this time she’s naked, bare before him, and he can see it. “God, Stanley, you’re so wet. Just from blowing me?”

“Yeah,” she pants, grabbing onto his shoulders. “It was good, Sixer. It was so—I want more.”

Two fingers push inside her, and Stan’s legs are starting to shake. Ford’s thumb slowly circles over her clit. “You want to suck me off again?”

Stan shakes her head. “No—I mean, yes, yeah, I do want to, but—“ She moves, and Ford’s hand leaves her as she climbs onto his lap. He stares up at her with wide eyes as she positions herself over his cock. “This, Ford,” Stan says, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I want you inside me.”

Ford’s big hands splay wide over her hips, and he pushes just so slightly. Permission. Stan slowly sinks down. They both hiss when the tip of his cock presses against her pussy. By the time the head is inside, they’re both panting, eyes locked onto each other. She moves almost torturously slow, overwhelmed by the sensation of him filling her up. When she makes it that last little bit, when she is seated firmly in his lap, some kind of guttural noise claws its way out of her throat.

“Stanley,” Ford gasps, hands all over her, kissing her. “Stanley, are you—God—are you ok? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Stan says, although it’s difficult to talk when it feels like the air has been punched from her lungs. “No, I—Ford, it’s so deep.”

Ford cups her face. “You feel so good, Stanley, God. So tight. You’re ok?”

“I’m ok,” she answers. “I’m—oh my God, Sixer, please—“

He kisses her again, harder this time. Hungry. “Bounce,” he growls against her lips, one hand sliding down to squeeze at her breast, the other settling back on her hip. “Bounce for me.”

Stan holds onto Ford’s shoulders for leverage as she raises a bit up on her knees and then drops. She moans as it punches the air from her lungs all over again, and Ford curses. “Again. Do it again. Faster.”

Stan does as she’s told. She bounces herself on Ford’s dick, and it feels like it’s rearranging her guts in the best way. When her thighs start to burn, she stays seated, rocking instead, and that feels just as amazing. Ford’s mouth is on her jaw, her neck, closing over her nipples, and all she can do is cling to him, hands tight in his hair. They’re both making noises that sound crazy, but Stan couldn’t stop even if she wanted to.

She can feel her orgasm starting to crest, everything in her clenching up. “Ford, Ford, I’m close—I’m—“

Ford’s hands loop under her thighs, and he stands up so fast that it makes Stan dizzy. She clings to him, and suddenly in another swoop of motion, her back hits the hard surface of his desk. Ford kisses her, something that manages to be bruisingly passionate and intimately delicate. “Stanley,” he says against her lips.

“I love you.” It bursts out of her. She loves him. Of course she loves him. He’s her twin brother. He’s the center of her world and has been for their entire lives—her mother has complained to plenty of people that Stan was a loud and fussy baby, that no toy or food or rocking or anything but Stanford could ever settle her cries—but this kind of love. A different kind. They aren’t supposed to feel this, but she does, and it’s completely consuming.

Ford’s forehead drops over hers, and he intertwines their fingers—six surrounding five—and for a moment they just lie like that, staring at each other and connected in so many ways.

“I love you too, Stanley,” Ford says, and he starts to roll his hips. Stan groans, her legs circling his waist. “I love you so much, my sweet girl.” Every word is punctuated by a thrust that gets harder and sharper than the last, and Stan’s eyes roll back. “You’re mine. You’re mine. Stanley, tell me.”

“I am,” she moans, and it’s so true. “Yours. Only yours. I don’t—I never want anyone else. Just you.”

Ford takes his hands from hers, and Stan has no time to complain because he grabs her hips and starts to pound into her like their lives depend on it. In seconds, she’s screaming through an orgasm, and Ford just keeps going in a brutal pace, thrusting deep inside her, filling her up so much that Stan can feel it in her throat. She clings to the edge of the desk that’s shaking under their weight.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” Ford says, his fingers digging deep enough into her hips to bruise. God, she hopes she bruises. “God, I’m—“

Stan squeezes her legs tighter around Ford, pulling him closer, trying to pull him completely inside. “Stay,” Stan begs. “Stay, please.”

Whatever control Ford was clinging to before is lost. His hips sputter out of his set rhythm, thrusting himself as deep into Stan as he can with a wild abandon. “Stanley, Stanley,” he breathes hot across Stan’s neck as he spills inside her, hot and wet. His lips find Stan’s, and Stan tightens her insides, giving Ford everything she can. She swallows down the moans Ford lets out as he thrusts shallowly through the orgasm. Then he collapses on top of her.

It’s a very long moment that they just lie there, panting harshly, sweaty skin sticking together. Stan’s hands are trembling as she drags them through Ford’s hair.

“Stanley,” Ford finally breaks the silence, his voice raspy. “Are you ok?”

“I don’t think I have bones anymore,” she says. “I mean, except the one.”

Ford’s laugh is little more than a shaky huff. “Uncouth,” he says, pressing a kiss over the still rapidly beating pulse point in her neck. He pushes himself up onto his forearms, looking down at her. His glasses are a bit foggy, and his hair is curling more than usual across his forehead. “I’m serious. Are you ok? You aren’t—I didn’t hurt you?”

Stan wipes the sweat from his face. “You couldn’t,” she says. Not strictly true. Ford has the power to hurt her more than anyone else ever could, but he’s her brother and he loves her. He never would.

Ford nods. “Good. Good. Ok. I’m—I’m going to—get out of you now.” Stan snorts at the awkwardness, and Ford laughs too. “Don’t say it,” Ford warns, and Stan just grins.

Ford rubs his palms over her thighs, and she remembers that she’s still clinging to him. She unlocks her ankles and slides her legs back down. Ford pulls himself from her, and Stan groans. “Stanley,” Ford asks in alarm.

“It’s ok,” she says. “It’s ok. Just—you really went to town, Poindexter.”

His brows furrow. “You said I didn’t hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” Stan says, pushing herself up on still shaking arms to pull him to her. They wrap their arms around each other, Ford’s hands splayed wide over her back, and one of hers carding through his hair again. “I promise you didn’t. I thought it was supposed to. You know, people say that it does the first time. But it didn’t. I’m ok. Maybe gonna be a little sore, but I’m ok.”

“Promise,” he asks. “You’ll tell me if I ever—“

“Promise, Sixer,” she says.

Ford kisses her neck, then both her cheeks, then a sweet press of his lips to hers. He steps back from between her legs, hands finding hers and ready to help her down off the desk and then he freezes. Stan follows the line of his gaze, and she’s treated to the same sight. His cum dripping out of her into a puddle on the desk.

“Holy shit,” she says, opening her legs just a little wider to get a better look.

Ford is back immediately, his fingers coming to her pussy and sliding through the mess. Stan clings to him, moaning again at the sensation. She’s just short of being too overstimulated for this, but Ford’s touches are gentle. “This is—Sweet Moses, Stanley,” he says lowly. Two fingers slide into her, curling, and the noises it makes. Stan whimpers.

“God, I want to do this to you again. Want to do this to you every day,” he says. She wants that too. She wants him to fuck her and never stop.

“But we can’t,” Ford says, and Stan nearly sobs. What? No. That’s not something she wants to hear, especially not when he’s actively finger fucking his cum back into her pussy, his thumb pressing hard onto her clit. “We just—we have to be careful, Stanley. You can’t get pregnant.” His other hand stretches wide across her stomach. “Not yet.”

And Stan comes harder than she ever has in her life, so hard that her vision blacks out, so hard that she’s crying, so hard that she slumps completely boneless and Ford has to catch her before she falls off the desk.

“Stan! Stanley,” he frets, and Stan fumbles, desperately trying to find his face because she needs to kiss him, needs to breathe in his air, or she’ll suffocate.

They kiss for a long time, desperation slowly giving way to tiny little pecks. Ford has fallen back into the chair, taking Stan with him and settling her in his lap. They’re both trembling just a bit. They stare at each other, foreheads pressed together. Ford’s fingers caress her cheek. “Stanley,” he asks, his breath whispering over her lips. “Are you ok?”

She has never been better in her life. She has been fucked so well, so perfectly, and now she’s curled up in Ford’s arms, and he loves her. Instead of saying that, she nods and yawns.

Ford laughs lowly, and Stan snuggles into where the sound vibrates from his chest. He checks his watch and makes an alarmed sound. “It’s late. We have school tomorrow,” he says.

“Poindexter, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Stan whines.

“It’s Friday,” Ford says. “It’s not that bad.”

“Don’t pretend to be stupid,” Stan says. “There’s only room for one of us to be a dummy here.”

“Stop,” Ford says. “You are not dumb. You just need to—“ He stops short. For a brief moment, he just looks at her. Then he shakes his head and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’re not dumb,” he says again, and leaves it at that. “But the fact that we have school tomorrow doesn’t change. I did say I would insure that you go.”

Stan pouts at him, but she knows it isn’t going to work. “There’s definitely better things we could be doing,” she tries.

“Oh, we will,” Ford says. “If you’re amenable to it, I plan to fuck you as often as possible while we have the house to ourselves.”

The matter-of-fact tone, the use of the word amenable, those two things should not be so hot, but it’s Ford, and it sends a jolt down Stan’s spine, and all she can do is nod and says, “Yeah, I’m down with that.”

Ford kisses her again, and they climb into the bottom bunk. They are both definitely disgusting—Stan in particular with the mess drying between her legs—but they can shower in the morning, and Stan honestly enjoys it, enjoys the evidence of what they mean to each other. Ford folds Stan up in his arms, curving their bodies to fit together under the mass of blankets. Their fingers slot together—six around five, as always—one set resting over Stan’s heart, the other her stomach.

Even as exhaustion washes over her, Stan replays Ford’s words in her mind. Not yet. It’s absolutely crazy. Crazy and possibly dangerous, but at the same time, it’s right. For them, there isn’t any other option. Ford isn’t just Stan’s past or present. He’s her future. He’s everything she’s ever known, everything she’s ever wanted, and she doesn’t need to see the rest of the world to know that that will never change. His heart is beating in her chest right alongside hers. He’s everything.

“Stanford,” Stan mumbles, so close to sleep.

“Hmm,” he hums back, nearly there himself, but she needs to let him know.

Stan presses their joined hands more firmly against her stomach. “One day,” she says.

Ford’s breath hitches, and then he pulls her impossibly closer. His lips press a tired but still searing kiss behind he ear. “One day,” he promises. Stan’s eyes close, and she falls into the best sleep of her life, one that someday soon will be the only sleep she knows.

[floralscented]

I’m sorry to be that person but i simply can’t understand what happened with artyandink, i love their posts and bots and i would just like to understand better what happened since the posts and everything weren’t really clear for me 😭

so basically the very short & sweet ( update after finishing writing it: it was not short or sweet ) answer is that she word for word copied one of my writings, alongside many of my other ideas ( at the very least mentioning wanting to do them at the same time as me so she could put hers up first and get validation for an idea that wasn't hers, i imagine, but that's speculation ) and then when i stopped letting it happen and called her out on it, she blamed it on photographical memory of all things, but at least stopped, so i thought it was done.

phase two is when she started being incredibly rude and passive aggressive to me or anyone that would listen about how we didn't interact with her stuff anymore, and how it wasn't fair. which is honestly incredibly rich, isn't it? because she rarely interacted with our things, or gave them the recognition that she wanted in return. but really, it wasn't about fairness and doesn't matter if things are interacted with equally or whatever, she was just mad nobody was hyped for her things anymore because the only things we saw from her, weren't her own ideas.

in between this phase & phase three is when she starts genuinely harassing me personally. messages on discord privately, tagging me in a public server if i don't respond in time ( we have a six hour time difference! when it's morning for her, it's the dead of night for me! ), private messaging me on tumblr, sending asks on tumblr. literally all in the same 30 minute span max. always asking things along the lines of if i think she's a bad person, or guilting me personally, about never interacting with her things.

this is not like an excuse or whatever, but at the time, i was hardly posting on tumblr / less than i am now, because everything i wrote got taken, so i lessened it a lot. i was only ever on tumblr to post my things when i did, and that was it! very rare! so interacting with her things was hardly ever on my mind!

phase three. personally feels like a crashout to me because it's actually insane. the same day that she again messages me, this time asking if i got an anon abt her, which alone is crazy that even happened because who talks shit about someone, to someone else? that they might not even know follows? i tell her no, because it obviously feels shady as fuck. and so she starts being really weird. things like, well i got this ask in the screenshot i'm sending you, and a second saying you definitely got one, but i don't have the screenshot of the second, because i deleted it, but not the first. shady, right? anyways. same day as all of this, she gets on the server like, hey guys, i'm gonna let my friend take over my entire tumblr & discord, her name is dani. hope this is okay! and not even two seconds later, she was suddenly 'dani.' please keep track that this is her second persona. so obviously, she gets kicked because it's weird as fuck, it was honestly just something you had to be there for to see how weird it was, i guess? she changes her tumblr user to daniisms, starts messaging all of us ( in the server, i have not clarified! ) privately and stuff, saying that well, arty was just depressed, that's why she gave away the entirety of her accounts. like any of that makes sense to do.

phase four is actually the most diabolical one because she gets blocked! by all of us! because again, it is weird as fuck. this is when she private messages people again but now her excuse is, oh, NONE of this was me, i've been gone for a month, this was a hacker. so hackers steal supernatural writers tumblrs and their discords, somehow, which mind you, how would anyone even know her discord user? it's nowhere on her account from the last i saw, and so genuinely, how would a hacker know this information to hack her there? so hackers make up an imaginary friend to blame their issues on, and when it fails, that's when they leave your account to you? and also you just so happen to conveniently come back right when the hacker is gone?

the text messages she used in her 'evidence' were faked. you can recreate them exactly in iphonefaketextmessage, something that every writer i've talked to knows, because we've used it at one point for our own writing. suddenly, now that 'she's' back on her own account, she's continuing fics that her hacker made.

she's clearly convinced herself that i'm an enemy and that i'm stupid all at once, because even to this day she is bringing up my name to people that she wants to befriend now that people aren't interested in being friends with someone so conniving and honestly? psychotic at this rate. she apologizes in my messages for everything, still not taking any accountability, and then to everyone else & where she can be perceived, she's trying to discredit whatever i say while trying to paint herself as a savior for "shutting down anyone that says a thing bad about dahlia."

even in her defenses against herself, she literally cannot stop herself from trying to take away from what SHE put me through.

i hope this is further clarification. a lot of the evidence of things i say in here is in my first post, and there's also more i didn't talk about. this was supposed to be short & sweet but it is an incredibly complicated manner, and i just want to be done with it, but she won't stop bringing me up.

and i hate that i have to say this at all, but i really, truly hope this isn't you, arty. seriously. the consequences of our actions are tough, but that's why they're consequences. if you see this, and i know somehow you will, even though i keep you blocked and don't talk about you except for the one post i made and one reblog i did yesterday when you again had my name in your mouth, please leave me alone.

[epic-the-musical-confessions]

Another confession about Hold Them Down, I know. I do not condone any of that behavior in ANY way WHATSOEVER, but imo Hold Them Down doesn’t truly get uncomfortable until those lines about SAing Penelope. Now I’m not saying it is a topic to be taken lightly or anything like that, but it feels like everyone is saying the ENTIRE song is that level of discomfort.

A good portion of HTD is just the suitors being angry and planning to kill off Telemachus. Now if that’s triggering to some people then that is none of my business. I’m not gonna sh*t on them for not liking that part. But I feel like the fandom is trying to paint HTD as this song that is just full of SA topics, when in reality, if you were to pull that specific part out of the song, it is just the suitor version of Remember Them. A song of the featured characters plotting how to beat their opponents.

The fandom wanting the suitors to all basically be a bunch of teenagers running around making a mess is a joke to me. These aren’t teenagers. These are men around the same age as Telemachus who have been left unchecked for pretty much their whole lives. The ones who say that Jay shouldn’t have these topics in the musical period are the same ones that don’t realize that Circe still did the same thing she did in the source material. Literally the only difference is that in Epic, Ody denies her. What she did was still se**** harassment and would have been a form of SA if Jay had stayed true to the source.

I’m just saying that while SA topics are very real and should not be taken lightly, the fandom making HTD out to be a song that is solely about SA just makes me really scream (Sorry if I broke any rules or if it’s too long)

.

[pouletaulait]

If you say, you don't want to change my opinion, okay I'm gonna believe you, yet in your answer you said: "I feel quite powerless and unequipped to persuade those who already formed their opinion." Maybe you can see, how this statement might be interpreted differently? "Please, don’t take it personally. I am purely looking at the arguments in the debate, not at who made them."

I'm sorry but when sb is reacting to sb elses statements, their statements are usually understood to directly relate to their mutual conversation. I'm trying to express this in the most respectful way I can: If you want to make generalized statements which are not directly relating to what I've been saying I'd appreciate it if you made a separate post because, honestly, I'm a bit frustrated at this discussion because I really try to take your arguments into consideration but when you continue to keep making assumptions about my views and opinions and misconstruing them, you keep forcing me into a defensive position which I find quite unfair. In good faith, I take it that this was not your intention, therefore I'm still gonna address some of the things you mentioned: Yes, you're right, I focused on Yashiro and not on Doumeki in my arguments about consent. After all, Yashiro's consent is the point of contention here which is why I focused on his role in these scenes. You're insinuating that I'd be romanticizing Doumeki's intentions in these scene and I have to object to that vehemently, because I never have, nor would I ever do that. Doumeki should never have done what he did. His behaviour was very egoistic, I've never been making any arguments to the contrary. In relation to your remark about Doumeki's role in this: To be honest I'm a bit confused about why you deem certain aspects to be unfit when discussing the question of Yashiro's consent: "But when given arguments in favor of dismissing Yashiro’s right to object or arguments that shift the focus away from the simple topic of consent, then I have to ask myself why this is happening." But then you again you say that the focus should not lie on Yashiro alone but on Doumeki too: "I’m questioning the approach of analyzing in depth Yashiro and bringing all the attention to him instead of Doumeki in this case." Idk, maybe I'm misunderstanding you but either we're solely focusing on the question of consent on Yashiro's side or we are not. I fail to see how Doumeki's behaviour or intentions pertain to the question of Yashiro's consent. I'm sorry if I'm making an unfair assumption here but aren't you shifting the focus away from the simple topic of consent if you're asking me to look at Doumeki instead? I agree that Doumeki and his actions have a lot of issues, yet I struggle to understand how these issues, his intentions or his behaviour relate to the question of whether Yashiro gave consent or whether he did not. If you made these statement about anything outside of this specific question, like I've said, I find this unfair because you're simply commenting on my "supposed" opinions that you don't know nothing about because I didn't get to say anything about that topic in the first place, in other words; you're putting words in my mouth. In regards to the question of consent: I think I've already made my argument about this question clear: His consent is ambiguous imo and like I've said, I think that this observation very much matters to the understanding of the story and how my opinion does not relate to any real life issues in regards to consent. Again, if you see it differently, so be it, but honestly I disagree with your moralization of my interpretation: "Stigmatization of Yashiro’s sexual past is the same as victim blaming." First off, I don't understand why you're thinking that I'm stigmatizing Yashiro's sexual past. How so? I'm not judging him for his actions, nor am I judging the nature of his actions. If anything I'm pathologizing his sexual past and yes, absolutely I am, yet I fail to see how I'm victim blaming because of that. "Without the romantic lens on, sex isn’t more morally acceptable if it’s gentle and the parts involved love each other…"

Yes, it's not, yet, again, I fail to see how this relates to anything I've said. I'm not making any moral judgements about Yashiro's nor anybody else's sexual preferences. I was making the argument that Yashiro's sexual preferences seem to have been caused by his experiences with CSA and that he therefore had no free choice in regards to his sexual preferences. Like I've said I come to this conclusion because i.a. the question of Yashiro's actual sexual preferences keeps coming up in the manga. This conclusion is in no way judgemental or moralizing, it's purely an observation. That's how this story presents itself to me. Again, by saying this I'm not making any statements about people's sexual preferences in general, nor am I implying that other people's preferences are caused by any sort of trauma or the like. "If you think that he can’t control himself or doesn’t know what he wants when he wants to have sex (which is not the case in every example given in the story), then you must think that maybe Doumeki could have had better control of his own sexual desires and could have waited." I never said that Yashiro can't control himself and I didn't mean to imply that that he doesn't know what he wants per se. I made the argument that his sexual preferences are based on his coping mechanism and that they do not appear to be indicative of his actual preferences and wishes. What I am arguing is that there are sort of two different layers, if you will, to his desires: (1) The desire caused or necessitated by his trauma and (2) his underlying/actual preferences. Yes, I do think that Doumeki should have controlled his sexual urges and he definitely should've waited. "I look at the way Yoneda draws Yashiro after sex with Doumeki and he is always at a low point. To me, it seems that the point was to bring him to break, to experience a crisis. And I am having a hard time romanticizing it."

Yes, these are low points for Yashiro but I suppose that we have differing opinions on how so. Personally, I believe that his sexual encounters with Doumeki force him to face the truth about his sexual preferences (gentle vs. violent) and the fact that he feels incapable of change (accepting love and tenderness from Doumeki which seems to be what he longs for). I believe that Yashiro's thoughts at the end of chapter 57 demonstrate this: As always I'm full of contradictions. I blame him for being cruel. But the moment I'm being treated gently, I want to run away. In spite of all of that, I can't help myself – I get into it. Humans are creatures of change. But in my case, I'm just like unchanging lifestock. Completely incapable of growth. Again, this is purely my interpretation, you're free to have your own. Lastly: "In my analyses I will continue to be critical of things, and I can’t see that as a misuse of fiction. I am grateful that you took your time to read my arguments. This remains a place open to discussions as long as we are aware that romantic views about love and sex are not superior nor compulsory to read Saezuru." I never asked you to stop being critcial, quite the opposite and I didn't mean to imply that you can't read fiction any which way you want to. As far as I'm aware I didn't suggest that a romantic view about love and sex are in any way superior nor that a romantic view is compulsory to read Saezuru. I was simply making the argument that to me personally Saezuru appears to be a romance at its core, albeit with quite a few realistic elements that's not to say that others have to see it the same way. That's really all I have to say about this. Let me reiterate that I have no intention of persuading you of anything but I feel the need to clarify these aspects. I hope I didn't come off as too antagonistic because that's truly not my intention but I don't agree with sb making assumptions about my views and stating them as facts or putting words in my mouth. If you in turn feel misrepresented by anything I said, feel free to object or comment, otherwise I think this discussion is futile, to be honest because, like I've said from the beginning, when it comes to the question of Yashiro's consent, I can see where you're coming from and I accept your opinion but ultimately I believe it's important to recognize the ambiguity in his actions/words, more so than it is to commit oneself to a definite conclusion about whether Yashiro consented or whether he didn't. Like I've said before, I fail to see how an unambiguous answer to this question might matter to the understanding of the story in the first place. To me personally, the question of how this situation pertains to the question of consent in real life is secondary. That doesn't mean that I'm opposed to a discussion about it but I don't think that the two should be conflated either which, with all due respect, that is what I think you're doing when you're accusing me of victim blaming or any such things based on my views on this subject. Again, I'm not condoning Doumeki's actions at all but like I've stated above, I don't see how the nature of Doumeki's actions pertains to the question of Yashiro's consent in the first place. Apart from that thank you for this discussion, because it helped me to organize some of my thoughts in the process of putting them into words.

Following the discussion from here. Hoping you don’t mind if I make a new post so that the other one doesn’t become too heavy. I’m answering some lingering questions, but I am also saying that I won’t be dissuaded from treating this manga differently. As said recently*, Yoneda takes such care to give details and context to the story, that it is intriguing to look into things with analytical eyes and I can’t see the problem with it. For those who maybe feel like “the story isn’t that deep”, that is more offensive to the author tbh than to me or others in fandom who write commentaries. * @dragomfry said: “It makes our analyses of her work hold extra weight because there are things that she wants us to look for and derive meaning from (rather than us trying to derive meaning from nothing to begin with)”.

So to clear this first.

I can’t quite see why this story would be distorted into something it’s not intended to be if we approach it under a romantic lens.

I am not debating people for approaching the story romantically, but - because some troubling arguments were made about the recent poll - I will say this. Rape culture takes some arguments from romantic and patriarcal views to defend the aggressors and blame the victims instead: this isn’t romanticism’s fault, but the very fact should be at least taken into consideration. [More on this below**]. So several of the reflections I was writing about framing the manga as romance rather than literary realism were prompted by this issue. And reading your thoughts about the story, I can understand where we differ so much: and that is in how we view Doumeki especially, rather than the rest. Maybe you are not romanticizing Yashiro and his trauma, but you are especially romanticizing Doumeki. For example:

I allow myself to indulge in the romanticism of it all; both of them falling in love at first sight, depressed Yashiro finally finding someone who truly cares about him, Doumeki who doesn’t back down when Yashiro rejects him, Doumeki still having feelings for Yashiro even after he shot him in the leg and pretended not to remember him, etc. There’s so much in this story that’s blatantly romantic, almost corny.

There are many aspects of the manga that I do find realistic in it’s portrayal, such as the CSA, what I don’t find realistic, however, is the portrayal of love, the romance. I find it very idealised and romanticised for the most part (i.e the falling in love at first sight (I’ll get to that), Doumeki being Yashiro’s exact type, Doumeki happens to be impotent which allows Yashiro to develop feelings for him, the fact that Doumeki is completely accepting of everything Yashiro does regardless of how Yashiro treats him, the fact that Doumeki is still in love with Yashiro after he shot him the leg, maybe he even stayed in the Yakuza world just to be near him (although who knows why exactly he did that?) Idk maybe it’s just me but I find it very unrealistic. It’s this romantic idea of „there is this perfect person out there who accepts you just the way you are and you don’t have to do anything to keep them happy, you can even shoot them in the leg and they’ll still love you, they’ll stick around no matter what it takes to be with you“.

I can’t pick and choose what I want to romanticize or not, I have chosen to look at things differently, and I am keeping the same approach when looking at characterizarion. When I look at Doumeki, I see as many problems as those Yashiro has. He is the one depressed imo, at the beginning of the story, he is in much worse shape than Yashiro. Yashiro has a support network, Doumeki was isolated in prison and kept family away when he was released. Doumeki isn’t this strong and stoic person who is in love with Yashiro and is therefore shouldering a burden or enduring abuse in the name of love. I have been misunderstood before on this, but I want to say that I look at these characters without romanticizing either of them. I am not so much interested in looking at who is right or wrong, or to paint one character in a better light and bashing another: I want to understand their differences and how they came to be, how the relationship is affected by those differences. This is why I don’t take a shipper’s approach either, I am not solely focused in their relationship, but in the story as a whole.

There are several posts where I talked at lenght about these characters, because Yoneda gave a lot of backstory, and I encourage who may be interested in checking further. Doumeki has trouble facing or recognizing reality, until reality kicks him in the face, and that is happening to him since the nurse and Aoi. So he is only observing when it suits him. Yashiro established his emotional boundaries plenty of times, and Nanahara is there to corroborate and reinforce Yashiro’s prefereces. Here are some examples, and these are from volume one alone. It is a pretty clear situation, and Doumeki understood it.

I know that people are objecting to the very idea of framing Doumeki as the aggressor in this case, but the power dynamics had already shifted at that point when things went down in ch 24-25. It is the result of an escalation that sees Doumeki hiding his feelings and his arousal, and becoming more aggressive and unhinged towards others during the investigation into who ordered the hit on Yashiro. Yoneda was painstakingly building towards that scene, while also painting a bigger picture and external plot, and there are so many details that I haven’t even touched upon yet, but nothing is filler. And the parallels between Doumeki’s arousal and his violent behavior can’t be easily ignored.

Again, I feel quite powerless and unequipped to persuade those who already formed their opinion. But when given arguments in favor of dismissing Yashiro’s right to object or arguments that shift the focus away from the simple topic of consent, then I have to ask myself why this is happening. **Rape culture does play a role, and as I said, rape culture can and does weaponize some romantic ideas about love. Or against the autonomy of the person, against choice and so on.

I find it very important that Yoneda chose to put those words in the mouth of an ex-policeman, while dressed up as a policeman, and of another abusive detective with the police. Or the fact that Inami commented on Doumeki’s father building a career to cover up his crimes. See these statements from the Wikipedia page on rape culture:

With how difficult has become to search on the web for unbiased results, I am just giving the Wikipedia page not as a source of authority, but as a peer reviewed summary that provides a starting point for research and some bibliography on the subject. For example:

I want to add that I don’t agree with the way the article frames “men” as perpetrators and “women” as victims. That should be corrected and can be misleading. Men have been historically and consistently discouraged to speak up about being victims of rape themselves and often the law didn’t even consider them. And the gendered approach contributed to make so many victims invisibile. There is so much we have to learn.

Again, this post is solely for the purpose of answering arguments or points made directly to me about how we interpret the story in Saezuru. These are my observations and reflections, the links I see, and it is possible because these things are in the manga. And last, I love love-stories. But romance - especially romantic tropes, often reinforced by fandom shipping culture - don’t always equal love to me.