#I can think of wildly different ways to do it even

[tryandbehappy]

Why the Conflict Between Nick and June in Season 6 Feels Inevitable

When we talk about Nick’s possible “betrayal,” it’s important to see the truth: it won’t simply be about politics, alliances, or external circumstances. That’s just the surface. The real reason has been building for a long time. It’s emotional. It’s personal. And it’s been quietly growing between them, scene after scene, year after year.

It feels like they are pushing this tension to its maximum point.

I’m not certain, of course I never claim to predict the storylines but based on my observations, especially after rewatching and making videos since Season 1, the patterns are crystal clear.

So no matter what political situation they put around it, that’s just noise. The real story is much deeper.

It seems that soon June will ask Nick to do something wildly reckless.

Something that will cost him too much.

And just before that, there might be a moment of closeness, a moment when he once again feels like she hasn’t fully chosen him. After cheating on his wife

And there, at that tipping point, Nick will have to decide between two impossible choices.

On one side, his need for safety, for survival, for the fragile life he finally built.

On the other, her fire, her recklessness, her need for him to burn everything down for her one more time.

And maybe for the first time, he simply won’t be able to do it.

The First Core Conflict: Different Natures

Nick always chooses safety.

June always chooses risk.

And there’s something that’s important to understand about Nick.

His need for caution, for staying quiet, for keeping his head down it’s not because he’s naturally cold or unfeeling.

In fact, we know Nick can be impulsive.

We saw it in his backstory, when he punched a man without thinking. He has fire. He has emotion.

But Gilead taught him something brutal:

If you stand out, you die.

He learned to survive in a world where any mistake, any rash move, could cost everything.

He’s seen too many people disappear. Too many friends executed.And so he buried that impulsiveness deep down.

He taught himself to live by quiet, invisible rules because that was the only way to stay alive.

And June…

June with her wild spirit, her refusal to bow, her fearless defiance —

She terrified him. Not because he didn’t admire her.

He loved her for it. But because he knew exactly how fragile life was in Gilead.

And every time she risked herself, Nick knew there was a real chance he wouldn’t be able to save her.

And that fear, that helplessness,

is part of what’s been tearing him apart all along.

It’s been there since the beginning.

In Season 1, Nick told her to say what the Eyes wanted to hear, to stay silent and survive.

She didn’t listen and was beaten.

In Season 2, she screamed for the keys to the truck, ready to make a reckless escape alone, and he could only watch in agony.

Or After June’s confrontation with Fred, when she was hurt and her face was bruised, Nick found her.

He immediately realized something terrible had happened. He was so worried and helpless like AGAIN??? Why do you always have to be like this?

“It’s okay” she told softly knowing situations like this piss him off

Again and again, Nick has tried to anchor her.

Again and again, June has followed her fire.

Even in Season 6, when they meet, Nick says, “maybe keep a low profile”

“It’s hard for me sometimes”

“I remember”🫠

It’s not just about strategy.

It’s about the fundamental way they live.

The Second Core Conflict: Different Understandings of Love

June believes she is choosing Nick with her heart.

But Nick feels she is not choosing him at all.

Because Luke is still in her life. Because she stays with him, out of loyalty or guilt.

And Nick — Nick who loves once and fully — cannot be second. Cannot be half-loved and a secret (I can assume he hates cheating)

To him, her hesitation feels like rejection. Even if she doesn’t intend it.

Where It’s Heading

The pressure is reaching its breaking point.

Nick already saved Luke.

Nick already killed two Guardians to protect her. And then had to do dirty work by ending the one in a coma.

Nick already risked his life, his standing, his future all for a woman who, in his heart, he feels has never fully chosen him.

And now, June will probably ask him for something even bigger. Something even more dangerous.

And he will have to say no or whatever.

Not because he doesn’t love her.

But because he cannot keep destroying himself for a love that is killing him.

This is where the real fracture will come. Not from politics. Not from loyalty to Gilead or the Americans.

But from two hearts finally reaching the point where they cannot pretend anymore.

And in the end, we have to remember:

this conflict isn’t being built to destroy them, it’s being built to resolve them.

Yes, the tension between June and Nick will explode.

Yes, it will look, for a moment, like they are losing each other for good.

There will be hurt, betrayal, anger.

There will be a breaking point.

But the real purpose of this storyline isn’t to tear them apart.

It’s to finally bring everything to the surface —

all the buried feelings, all the unspoken pain, all the unfinished choices.

They won’t be able to just walk away and pretend it didn’t happen.

They won’t be able to leave this fracture unresolved.

And the show will have to give us clarity:

What really happened between them.

What they truly feel.

I truly believe that after all the hurt,

after the inevitable collapse,

their real feelings will finally break free.

And only then,

only after everything has been stripped bare,

will we finally get our answers.

[ace-and-ranty]

Okay, so, hear me out. Here is how I would have tidied up a bit the MESS that is She-Ra's lore.

The native native Etherians, the ones who evolved and originated from the planet, are people like Angella and Madam Razz; not people like we know them, but beings, manifestations of the planet's magic, immortal and la-di-da and ancient and mysterious.

Over time, immigrants started moving to Etheria, first and foremost humans, who spread out and got settled and started intermarrying with the magic natives, until we get to a planet that has some native magical beings still around, but is mostly their descendants with immigrants. This is how you get all the princesses, and that explains why most princesses are humans (descendants of humans and native beings), Scorpia specifically is not (descendant of a different immigrant population and a native being), and what Angella is (one of the very few beings still around by the time SPOP rolls around, who is only now handing over her rune to a mixed descendant)

She-Ra was one of those native beings, who slowly got integrated into the immigrant population, creating this Avatar-like cycle of She-Ras that was going just fine until:

The First Ones arrive.

The First Ones are not human. They are humanoid because of course, but are distinctively non-human, with specific identifying characteristics like Scorpia or Angella or Horde Prime. Like. Hell if I know. Make them elves.

There's a targeted propaganda machine to make the (mixed) native Etherians think the First Ones are helpful helping helpers, here to bring modern machines and shit to the natives!! She-Ra is handed over willingly, despite protests by various fractions. And then Mara blows the whistle.

Greyskull Squadron is not Mara's old squadron, or not only that, but a group of Etherians that Mara allied herself with, trying to oppose the First Ones. Like. Just show us a little bit of the Etherians fighting for their own planet, like what the show is currently trying to be about. Would be even better if later, Adora finds information not just from old First One tech, but from records left by the Etherians themselves.

[wackywatchdotcom]

woke up like 40 mins ago at like 4:30 unable to fall back alseep so im once again thinking about ragatha and pomni as The Ocd Havers. its everything to me. oh whoops i ran out of tags on this post

[t-u-i-t-c]

balance & naga // episode 31

[valeriehalla]

I am so utterly fascinated by “Saki”, the 18-year-running mahjong manga in which you, the reader, become gradually, frog-boilingly aware (over the course of nearly two decades’ worth of mahjong tournaments) that none of these girls are wearing underwear and most of their boobs are slowly expanding.

I need you to understand that I have, like, an anthropological level fascination with this comic. From the perspective of someone who is also a comic artist and writer, two things delight me about it:

the fact that I understand completely how an artist gets from “the fans can have a little hint of skirted asscheek” to “the pussy is completely out on center page” over the course of 18 years; and

the way in which the pussy being out is treated by the characters and diegesis as being utterly unremarkable.

Okay. Point 1. The frog-boiling.

Let me put this in perspective for you. There was already a meme about how the characters in “Saki” don’t wear underwear when I was in middle school. I am thirty now. Okay? And it’s still going.

In the time since, this has stopped being a joke. It is now indisputable canon. This is not because anyone outright says it at any point. It’s because the underwear ran out of places to hide. I’m obsessed with this thought: somewhere in the over 20 volumes of “Saki”, there is a panel in which underwear was objectively deconfirmed. And it would be so hard to figure out where that panel actually is. Maybe the artist didn’t even realize it when she drew it! The frog? Boiling!!

And of course there is also the breast expansion. I don’t know how to put a spin on this. They are just expanding. Like, this happens a lot with artists: you define a character as being, in your mind, “the one with the big boobs”, and over the years you emphasize that trait further and further so that the signal doesn’t get lost in the noise. It’s just that normally—in like a wildly popular manga series about mahjong published by literally Square Enix, for example—normally there would be a point at which the boobs stopped getting bigger. Like, an editor would step in or something. Or you would get to the point where you cannot draw the character in the same panel as her mahjong tiles without her breasts spilling over the tiles, and you’d go, “Well, this is now untenable.”

That did not happen. There is no ceiling. The frog is soup.

Point 2. The complete and utter mundanity of all of this.

It’s like this, okay: there’s no shortage of trashy ecchi manga out there. There’s a million other comics doing wildly bawdier things with wildly more improbable bishoujos.

The vibe with “Saki” is different.

It’s hard to explain this, but it feels like the world of the comic is fundamentally uninterested in the fanservice happening on the page. I cannot describe it as “leering”, because I cannot conceive of a person in the story from whose point of view one would leer. I think the artist is probably into it—I can’t imagine anyone is making her do this—but “Saki” the comic has no opinion on the matter.

There are essentially no male characters in “Saki”. Like, there was one guy? Kind of? At the very beginning? But he is gone now. They put him back in the toybox. He does not exist. It appears to be some level of canonical that in the world of “Saki”, almost all humans are women. Those women are sometimes romantically into each other. According to comments the artist has made on Twitter (which I cannot source), they have lesbian baby technology, so it’s no problem. It’s so much not a problem that the story is about mahjong, instead of any of that.

So, like, the fiction here appears to be this: this is the, like, meta-narrative of the fanservice of “Saki”, right: it’s just normal that they don’t wear underwear and their boobs are arbitrarily big. It’s been normal. It was normal before the story of the manga began. It’s just how things are. Nobody bats an eye about it, and if they do, it’s in sort of a lesbian kind of way so like what’s the problem, we love lesbians here. This is literally normal for girls.

The fanservice simply diffuses into this all-encompassing aura of disembodied, ambient sluttiness. The framing of the panels demands you acknowledge it, and the story demands you already be over it, because it’s mahjong time now, and we’re playing mahjong.

Do you get??? why I’m so fascinated??? Are you not a little enraptured???

Anyway, I have no idea how to end this weird post. I guess the conclusion is that women stay winning????

[neverendingford]

.

[kaijutegu]

Alligator Body Language and You, or: How To Know When An Alligator On Social Media is Being Stressed for Views

Alligators are wild animals. Despite the idiotic claims of animal abusers like Jay Brewer, they cannot be domesticated, which means they are always going to react on the same natural instincts they've had for millions of years. Habituated, yes. Tamed, yes. Trained, definitely. Crocodilians can form bonds with people- they're social and quite intelligent. They can solve problems, use tools, and they're actually quite playful. Alligators are also really good at communicating how they're feeling, but to somebody who doesn't spend much time around them, their body language can be a bit mystifying. And it doesn't help when social media influencers are saying shit like this:

That is not what a happy gator looks like.

That's a terrified, furious gator who isn't attacking because the ogre handling her has her in a chokehold. She's doing everything she can to express her displeasure, and he's lying about it because he knows his audience doesn't even know how to think critically about what he's doing. He knows that because his audience doesn't know anything about these animals, he can get away with it. This I think is why I hate him so much- he deliberately miseducates his audience. He knows what he's doing is factually inaccurate, he just doesn't care because attention means more to him than anything else in the world.

Let's change that! Here are two really important lessons for understanding alligator body language on social media.

Lesson 1: Alligators Don't Smile (in fact, most animals don't)

So what's going on in this video? Jay Brewer is aggressively choking his white alligator Coconut while scrubbing algae off of her with a toothbrush. And make no mistake, he is digging into the creature's throat while she is visibly distressed. He claims she's happy- but she's not. He is willfully misrepresenting what this animal is feeling. That's a problem, because people... well, we actually kind of suck at reading other species' body language. The reason for this is that we tend to overlay our own responses on their physical cues, and that's a problem. For example, let's look at an animal with a really similar face to ours, the chimpanzee. Check out Ama's toothy grin!

Wait, no. That's not a happy smile. That's a threat display. When a chimpanzee "smiles," it's either terrified and doing a fear grimace, or it's showing you its teeth because it intends on using them in your face.

How about a dog? Look at my smiling, happy puppy!

Oh wait no, this is a picture of Ryder when he was super overwhelmed by noise and people during a holiday party. He'd hopped up in my sister's lap to get away from stuff that was happening on the floor and was panting quite heavily. See the tension in the corners of his mouth and his eyes? A lot of the time when a dog "smiles," the smile isn't happy. It's stress! Why Animals Do The Thing has a nice writeup about that, but the point is, our body language is not the same as other species. And for reptiles, body language is wildly different.

For instance, look at these two alligators. Pretty cute, right? Look at 'em, they're posing for a Christmas card or something! How do you think they're feeling?

Well, I'll tell you how the normal one is feeling. He's annoyed! Why is he annoyed? Because the albino just rolled up, pushed another gator off the platform, and is trying to push this guy, too. I know this because I actually saw it happen. It was pretty funny, not gonna lie. He's not gaping all the way, but he was hissing- you can actually see him getting annoyed in the sequence I took right before this shot. Look at him in this first shot here- he's just relaxing, and you can see he isn't gaping even a little bit.

By the end, he's expressing displeasure, but not enough to actually do anything about it. He's annoyed, but he's comfy and that's where one of the best basking areas is, so he'll put up with it.

Reptiles open their mouths wide for a lot of reasons, but never because they are actively enjoying a sensation. Unless they're eating. No reptile smiles- they can't. They don't even have moveable lips. If a reptile is gaping, it's doing so because:

It is doing a threat display.

It is making certain vocalizations, all of which are threats. Alligators are one of the rare reptiles that do regularly vocalize, but most of their calls aren't made with a wide open mouth.

It is about to bite something delicious or somebody stupid. Check out this video- virtually all of the gaping here is anticipatory because these trained gators know darn well that the bowl is full of delicious snacks. (I have some issues with Florida's Wildest, but the man knows how to train a gator AND he is honest about explaining what they're doing and why, and all of his animals are healthy and well-cared for, and he doesn't put the public or his staff at risk- just himself.)

It's too hot and it has opened its mouth to vent some of that heat and thermoregulate. This is the main reason why alligators will often have their mouths part of the way open, but sometimes they'll open all the way for thermoregulation. This is what a thermoregulatory gape looks like- usually it's not all the way open, kinda more like < rather than V, but you can't say that 100% of the time. Additionally, a thermoregulatory gape... typically happens when it's hot out. If they're inside, maybe they've been under their basking light for too long. Heat's the dominant factor, is what I'm getting at.

There is another reason that a captive crocodilian might be gaping, and that's because it's doing so on command. Some places have their gators trained to gape on cue, like St. Augustine Alligator Farm and other good zoos. They have the animals do this in presentations that are genuinely educational. They ask the animals to open their mouths so that they can show off their teeth and demonstrate how their tongues seal off the back of their mouth. They'll also do it as part of routine healthcare, because looking at their teeth is important.

In this case, the animals aren't gaping because they're stressed, they're gaping because they know they're gonna get a piece of chicken or fish if they do it. And what's more, they're doing it on cue. They have a specific command or signal that tells them to open wide. It's not an instinctive response to a situation. It's trained. If the animal provides the behavior after a cue, the situation is much less likely to be negatively impactful.

It's also important to remember that there's a difference between a partially open mouth and a gape! As discussed above, alligators will often have their mouths a little bit open just to maintain temperature homeostasis. It helps them stay comfy, temperature-wise. These guys are all doing thermoregulatory open-mouthed behavior- that slight open and relaxed body posture is a dead giveaway. (That and it's the hottest spot in the enclosure.)

Lesson 2: A Happy Gator Is A Chill Gator

So if alligators don't smile or have facial expressions other than the :V that typically signifies distress, how else can you tell how they're feeling? One way is stillness. See, alligators subscribe to the philosophy of if it sucks... hit da bricks.

Basically, if they hate it, they'll leave. Unless, y'know, somebody has their meaty claws digging into their throat or is otherwise restraining them. (Restraint isn't always bad, btw. Sometimes the animal is going through a medical thing or needs to be restrained for their safety- which a responsible educator will explain.)

Let's look at a very similar scenario, in which a captive alligator is getting his back scrubbed.

As you can see, it's quite different. First, he's not being restrained at all. Second, look at how relaxed he is! He's just chilling there vibing! He could simply get up and leave if he wanted to, because he's not being held. Towards the end of the video, as he lifts his head, you can see that his respiratory rate is very even as his throat flutters a bit. I'm not sure what this facility is, so I can't comment on care/general ethics, but like. In this specific case, this is an alligator enjoying being scrubbed! And you can tell because he's not doing anything. A happy gator is content to be doing what they're doing.

Why Should I Listen To You?

Now, you should ask yourself, why should you listen to me? Why should you trust me, who does not own an alligator, versus Jay Brewer, who owns several?

Well, first off, there's no profit for me in telling you that what you're seeing on social media is in fact not what you're being told you're seeing. I'm not getting paid to do this. That's the thing with people who make social media content. The big names aren't doing it just for fun. They're doing it for money. Whether that's profit through partnerships or sponsorships, or getting more people to visit their facilities, or ad revenue, you can't ignore the factor of money. And this is NOT a bad thing, because it allows educators to do what they're passionate about! People deserve to be paid for the work that they do!

But the problem starts when you chase the algorithm instead of actually educating. A "smiling" alligator gets the views, and if people don't know enough to know better, it keeps getting the views. People love unconventional animal stories and they want those animals to be happy- but the inability to even know where to start with critically evaluating these posts really hinders the ability to spread real information. Like, this post will probably get a couple hundred notes, but that video of Coconut being scrubbed had almost 400,000 likes when I took that screenshot. Think about how many eyeballs that's reached by now. What I'm saying here is that it's just... really important to think critically about who you're getting your information from. What do dissenters say in the comments? What do other professionals say? You won't find a single herpetologist that has anything good to say about Prehistoric Pets, I can tell you that right now.

Another reason you can trust me is that my sources are not "just trust me bro," or "years of experience pretending my pet shop where animals come to die is a real zoo." Instead, here are my primary sources for my information on alligator behavior:

Dragon Songs: Love and Adventure among Crocodiles, Alligators, and Other Dinosaur Relations- Vladimir Dinets

The Secret Social Lives of Reptiles- J. Sean Doody, Vladimir Dinets, Gordon M. Burghardt

Social Behavior Deficiencies in Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Z Walsh, H Olson, M Clendening, A Rycyk

Social Displays of the American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis)- Kent Vliet

Social Signals and Behaviors of Adult Alligators and Crocodiles- Leslie Garrick, Jeffery Lang

Never smile at a crocodile: Gaping behaviour in the Nile crocodile at Ndumo Game Reserve, South Africa- Cormac Price, Mohamed Ezat, Céline Hanzen, Colleen Downs (this one's Nile crocs, not American alligators, but it's really useful for modeling an understanding of gape behaviors and proximity)

Thermoregulatory Behavior of Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Cheryl S. Asa, Gary D. London, Ronald R. Goellner, Norman Haskell, Glenn Roberts, Crispen Wilson

Unprovoked Mouth Gaping Behavior in Extant Crocodylia- Noah J. Carl, Heather A. Stewart, Jenny S. Paul

Thank you for reading! Here's a very happy wild alligator from Sanibel for your trouble.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Not to turn a lighthearted post into serious commentary or pontification, but my dad is very xtian and he talked to me about this very topic by coincidence.

To him, he hates when people take g-d's name in vein ("oh, my g-d"). He said it literally sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. To him, it is the ultimate disrespect.

If you couldn't tell, my viewpoint is the opposite. I say and understand "oh, my g-d" as a plea. It's something that to me means, "g-d, please remember me." I view taking g-d's name in vein not as a matter of belief or word, but action. To me, a person who takes g-d name in vein are people who claim to work for g-d and love g-d, but who hate their fellow man. The people who are indifferent to suffering, who profit off pain, who see g-d as a means to an end. That is desecration of The Name.

And I think that highlights some key differences between judaism and xtianity. Neither are wrong or ontologically bad, but it's different.

You can pry "oh, my g-d" out of my cold dead religious hands. I yearn for g-d which means that I personally want to cry out to Him.

I think the difference between myself and other religious people is that I don't see saying "oh my g-d" as being disgraceful to His name. I see saying "oh my g-d" like you're trying to get g-d's attention so you can do this:

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

－； SQUIRTING FOR THE FIRST TIME ?!

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 paring : jing yuan, mydei, phainon, moze & sunday x f!reader

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 tws : nsfw/smut, reader is a hybrid kitty, creampie, chocking, cow-girl, doggy style, reader is implied to be chubby, Sunday is really mean in his part, Moze is gentle, hair pulling, reader licking jing yuans cheek, spanking, nipple play & hair pulling. /ᐠ > ˕ <マ

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 note : art banner is by rororo_mg on X! also not proof read.

＠ 𝒥ℐ𝒩𝒢 𝒴𝒰𝒜𝒩！

Jing Yuan had always known you were sensitive—his little kitty was always so easy to tease, so quick to melt under his touch. But tonight, he was learning just how sensitive you really were.

Your tail flicked wildly, ears twitching as he held you down, his cock stretching you open in a way that left you breathless. You were on your stomach, legs trembling as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with slow, deep thrusts. He was deliberate, as always, testing your reactions, watching your body shiver beneath him.

“Mm, you’re soaking me,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement as he rolled his hips into you. His fingers slid down between your thighs, pressing against your clit in lazy circles, making you whimper. “Are you getting this worked up just from me fucking you?”

You nodded desperately, but that wasn’t enough for him. A sharp slap landed on your ass, making you jolt. “Use your words, little one.”

“Y-Yes! ‘S too much, Yuan—feels s’good!” you mewled, your hands clawing at the sheets, your back arching to push yourself closer to him.

Jing Yuan chuckled, leaning down, his breath warm against your ear. “Good. Let it take over, kitten.” His pace quickened, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, until the wet sounds of your pussy filled the room.

And then—oh. Oh, something felt different. Your body tensed, a sudden, overwhelming pressure building low in your belly. It made your toes curl, your tail fluff up, your ears flatten as you gasped. “Y-Yuan, ‘m—s-something—”

He noticed immediately, his movements slowing just a little, teasing. “Something what, hm?”

You whined, shaking your head. You didn’t know what was happening—you just knew it was too much. “C-Can’t—gonna—!”

The coil snapped.

Your whole body jerked as the pressure burst, a wave of intense pleasure crashing through you. Heat flooded your core, and suddenly, you were gushing, clear liquid dripping down your thighs, soaking his cock, the sheets, everything.

Jing Yuan stilled for a moment, watching with wide, golden eyes as you squirted around him, your pussy pulsing erratically. And then, he groaned, a deep, satisfied sound, before fucking you through it, making you ride out every wave of your pleasure. “Ah, my little kitten is full of surprises,” he mused, voice teasing yet utterly proud.

You were trembling, panting, your body still twitching as you turned your head, eyes hazy. Instinctively, you leaned up and dragged your tongue over his cheek, nuzzling into him, a soft, dazed purr rumbling from your chest. “Mm… Jing Yuan…”

His hand came up to pet your head, fingers running through your hair, soothing you even as he continued to thrust, chasing his own high. “So cute,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But don’t think we’re done just yet, little one. Now that I know you can do that…”

He smirked.

“You’ll do it again for me, won’t you?”

＠ ℳ𝒴𝒟ℰℐℳ𝒪𝒮！

Mydei had always loved breaking you down—loved watching the way your body trembled under his touch, how easily you melted when he took control. And right now, you were a mess beneath him, arms weak as you tried to keep yourself up, plush thighs spread wide, your ass pressed against his hips as he fucked you from behind.

“You’re dripping all over me, pretty,” he rasped, voice thick with amusement. His hands gripped your plush hips, fingers digging into soft flesh as he dragged you back onto his cock, making you take every inch. “This needy already?”

Your tail flicked, ears twitching at the teasing lilt in his voice. You were panting, your body bouncing with each rough thrust, the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy filling the air. Your nipples tingled, heavy tits swaying with every movement, and then—smack!

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as Mydei’s hand landed on your chest, slapping your tits without warning. The sting sent a jolt straight to your clit, and you clenched around his cock, whining.

“Oh?” His chuckle was smug, fingers pinching your hardened nipples, rolling them between his fingers. “You like that, don’t you?” Another slap to your tit, then another, your sensitive skin left tingling, burning with pleasure. “Look at you, dripping even more just from this.”

You buried your face into the sheets, moaning helplessly as he played with your tits, tugging at your nipples while he kept fucking you, each thrust pushing you further into mindless bliss. His other hand snaked down between your thighs, rough fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit, making your body jolt.

“F-Fuck—” Your voice was shaky, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Your thighs quivered, that familiar, overwhelming pressure building deep in your core. You couldn’t hold it back—you couldn’t.

Mydei knew it, too. He could feel the way your walls fluttered around him, the way your breath hitched, body tensing like you were about to snap. “Go on,” he murmured, lips brushing against your ear. “Let go for me, kitty.”

And you did.

Your back arched, mouth falling open as the pressure burst, liquid gushing from your pussy, soaking his cock, his hand, the sheets. Your vision blurred, pleasure crashing through you in waves, your body trembling under the force of it.

Mydei groaned, watching with dark, hungry eyes as you squirted all over him, his fingers still working your clit, dragging out every last bit of your orgasm. “So fucking messy,” he muttered, smirking as he gave your ass a sharp slap. “You gonna do that for me again?”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was moving again, hips snapping forward, fucking you even harder.

“Good,” he murmured, voice full of wicked amusement. “I’m not done with you yet, kitty.”

Mydei didn’t give you time to recover. The moment your body slumped forward, spent and trembling from your orgasm, he yanked you back up, fingers tangling in your hair.

“Don't go all weak on me now, kitty,” he purred, wrapping your hair around his fist and tugging, forcing your back to arch. The sting sent a shiver down your spine, making your pussy clench around his cock, still stuffed deep inside you. “You can take more, can't you?”

You whimpered, barely able to form words, but that wasn’t the answer he wanted. His grip tightened, pulling your head back further, exposing your throat to him. “Say it.”

“Y-Yeah…” you gasped, voice breathy, needy. “I can—ah! I can take it!”

He chuckled, pleased, and rewarded you by rolling his hips deeper, his cock pressing against that sweet spot that had you seeing stars. His free hand slid up your body, over the curve of your plush belly, before wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

The pressure was intoxicating. His fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, cutting off just enough air to make your head feel light, your body even more sensitive. The lack of oxygen made every thrust, every slap of his hips against your ass, ten times more intense. Your pussy clenched tighter around him, your thighs shaking as pleasure coiled deep inside you again.

“Mm, look at you,” Mydei murmured, his voice thick with amusement. His grip tightened just a little more, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You get even tighter when I do this—such a filthy little thing.”

Your body was on fire, heat pooling in your belly, your clit throbbing as his cock dragged against your sweet spot over and over again. You could barely breathe, barely think—your world had narrowed down to him, to the rough grip in your hair, the hand around your throat, the brutal pace of his thrusts.

And then his fingers dipped down to your clit again, rubbing rough, messy circles over the sensitive bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight through you. Your moans were broken, choked, your body trembling uncontrollably as another orgasm rushed over you.

The moment the pressure burst, you gushed, a fresh wave of liquid squirting out of you, drenching his cock, the sheets, your thighs. Your body convulsed, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you cried out, overwhelmed.

“Fuck,” Mydei groaned, his own pace stuttering as he watched you fall apart again, utterly ruined. He let go of your throat, letting you gasp for air, but his grip on your hair didn’t loosen. If anything, he pulled even —even harder, forcing your back to arch impossibly deep as he chased his own high.

“You just keep making a mess, huh?” Mydei groaned, his voice thick with lust, watching the way your body twitched from overstimulation. His cock was still buried inside you, stretching your dripping pussy as you clenched around him. His grip in your hair was relentless, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, while his free hand delivered a sharp slap to your ass. “So fucking greedy, squirting all over me like a desperate little thing.”

You could barely breathe, could barely think—your whole body was trembling, your thighs quivering from how hard he was fucking you. Your head spun from the mix of pain and pleasure, from the lingering pressure around your throat, from the way his cock dragged against your sweet spot with every brutal thrust.

Your moans were wrecked, broken, tears threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks. But Mydei wasn’t done yet. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “You’re not tapping out on me now, are you, kitty?”

You shook your head weakly, your voice coming out in a choked whimper. “N-No…”

“Good,” he murmured, his fingers slipping down to rub your swollen clit again, sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through you. “Then come for me one more time.

It wasn’t a request—it was an order. And your body obeyed, even as it burned from overstimulation. Your vision blurred, the pressure in your belly snapping again, your walls fluttering around him as another gush of slick dripped down your thighs.

“That's it,” Mydei groaned, his grip on your hair finally loosening as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt. A deep growl tore from his throat as he came, filling you up with thick, hot spurts, his hips jerking against yours. He let out a satisfied sigh, his hands smoothing over your trembling body as he finally slowed.

You slumped forward, completely wrecked, panting as you tried to catch your breath. Mydei chuckled, trailing his fingers over your ass, down to your dripping cunt. “Messy thing,” he murmured, pushing his cum deeper with two fingers, making you whimper. “Hope you didn’t think we were done. I'm not letting you off that easy.”

Even as you trembled, spent and overstimulated, you knew you were in for a long night.

＠ 𝒫ℋ𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒪𝒩！

Phainon's hands gripped your plush thighs tightly, guiding you as you bounced on his cock. His sharp blue eyes were locked onto you, drinking in the way your tits jiggled with every movement, the way your soft stomach tensed when he thrust up into you.

“You look perfect like this,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. His hands pressed into your skin, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you who was in control. “Taking me so well, riding me like you were made for it.”

Your thighs burned, but the pleasure outweighed everything. His cock stretched you so deep, rubbing against that perfect spot with every bounce, sending electric jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your hands clutched his chest for support, fingers digging into the smooth, otherworldly skin as you whimpered.

Phainon groaned, tilting his head back as your walls fluttered around him, sucking him in greedily. “You're so fucking wet,” he muttered, one hand sliding up to grab your tits, squeezing roughly before flicking your sensitive nipples. “Look at this—“ His other hand dipped between your thighs, fingers rubbing fast, messy circles on your clit.

A sharp cry left your lips, your body jerking at the overwhelming sensation. “P-Phai—!”

He smirked at your desperation, fingers never slowing. “You gonna come for me, pretty thing?” His hips snapped up, thrusting deeper just as he pinched your nipple, pushing you right over the edge.

Your body tensed, back arching as your orgasm crashed over you, your pussy clamping down around his cock. Your vision blurred, breath hitching as pleasure consumed you. But Phainon didn't stop—he kept fucking into you, riding out your high, dragging you into overstimulation.

“That's it,” he growled, watching as you trembled, your juices dripping down onto his thighs. “You're milking me so fucking good—” His grip on your hips tightened, holding you down as he thrust up one last time, burying himself deep inside.

A low groan rumbled from his chest as he came, filling you up with thick, hot spurts. His claws pressed into your skin as he held you there, making sure you took everything, making sure his cum stayed deep inside.

Your body slumped forward, completely spent, forehead resting against his shoulder as you panted. Phainon chuckled, pressing a kiss against your temple. “Not done yet, sweet thing,” he murmured, rolling his hips just enough to make you whimper. “You can give me another, can't you?”

Even as exhaustion weighed on you, you knew there was no escaping him—not when he still wanted more.

＠ ℳ𝒪𝒵ℰ！

Moze's hands were gentle as they rested on your hips, guiding you down on his cock slowly, making sure you were comfortable. His purple eyes stayed on you, calm but filled with something deeper, something hungry.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice soft but thick with desire. “Take your time, yeah?”

You nodded, breath shaky as you slowly sank all the way down, feeling his cock fill you up. It stretched you in all the right ways, and you could feel your pussy clenching around him, warm and tight.

“Feels s’ good,” you gasped, your hips lifting, starting to ride him, moving up and down at your own pace.

Moze groaned softly, his hands on your waist, guiding you just enough. “So tight, so perfect for me,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin, as his purple eyes stared at you.

His movements were slow, controlled, making you feel every inch of him as he slid in and out. Your pussy tightened around him with each thrust, and you couldn’t help but moan louder, the pleasure building up inside you.

“Ah... Moze,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders as your pace picked up. “S’ good.”

Moze’s breath hitched as you started bouncing faster, his hands tightening on your hips. “You’re beautiful like this,” he murmured, his eyes darkening. His hands slid up to your chest, fingers brushing over your soft tits before gently squeezing. “Sensitive, huh?”

You whimpered, biting your lip as your body trembled. “Mm-hm,” you mumbled, not able to form much more than that. The pressure in your stomach was building fast.

Moze let out a low growl, his cock pushing deeper, his thrusts getting a little harder, a little more urgent. “Come on, sweetheart. Let go for me.”

And that’s when it hit—your body clenched tightly around him, and you squirted, liquid rushing out of you as your walls spasmed. You cried out, your back arching as the orgasm washed over you.

Moze's eyes widened, shocked by how you gushed all over him. “Fuck, sweetheart...” He panted, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “You— you did that for me?”

His thrusts slowed, but his hands were still tight on your waist, making sure he stayed buried deep inside as he let you ride out the aftershocks.

You nodded, breathless and flushed. “Y-Yeah... all for you.”

Moze chuckled softly, his hand brushing your hair out of your face. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, pulling you close. “You’re amazing.”

His gentle touch made your heart race, and you melted into his arms, your body still trembling from the aftereffects. Moze kissed your forehead, holding you close, his hands soothing as he waited for you to recover.

Moze held you close, his gentle touch still grounding you as the aftershocks of your orgasm faded. You were still panting, your breath coming out in soft, shaky bursts, but the feeling of his arms around you, holding you tight, calmed the storm inside you.

“You're okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his voice soothing. "You did so well.” he smiled softly, while gently scratching your fluffy ears.

You nodded, still too dazed to form many words, but the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. He was proud of you, and you were feeling that warmth inside you, deep down.

“Moze...” you murmured, lifting your head slightly to look at him. “I— I didn't know I could... do that.” You were still catching your breath, but there was a hint of embarrassment in your voice.

He smiled softly, his hand caressing your cheek. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. Never be embarrassed. You made me proud, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His fingers trailed down to your collarbone, slowly making their way to your chest, his touch so gentle, so tender.

You melted into his touch, feeling his warmth seep into you. It was calming, reassuring. Moze had a way of making you feel safe, loved, as if everything was okay. Even after everything, even after the intensity, he was right there, still gentle, still caring.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked, his voice low, but not pressuring. “I don’t wanna rush you, but if you’re ready... I can take care of you some more.”

You nodded, your confidence returning slowly, your hands now gripping his shoulders as you looked down at him. “Yeah, I want to... I want you.”

Moze chuckled softly, his hands moving back to your hips, guiding you gently as he helped you lift up before slowly lowering you back down onto him, taking his time to make sure everything felt just right. His cock slid in easily, the mix of his cum and your wetness making it feel even more intense.

“You're so good to me,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with need as you started moving again, the pleasure slowly building up again. “I... I want more.”

Moze groaned, his hands firmly on your hips, but his movements were controlled, never forcing, just helping you find your rhythm as you rode him. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on you, taking in every move, every twitch, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. “Let go, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

With every thrust, every motion, the pleasure grew again, and you couldn’t stop yourself. It was like you were on fire, your body craving more, wanting to feel everything.

And when you came again, your body trembled, your voice breaking as you gasped, Moze groaned in response, his grip tightening as he let out a low, satisfied growl, filling you once more.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered against your skin, his lips brushing over your shoulder. “You’re amazing, sweetheart. I love you.”

You smiled softly, your body still humming from the aftershocks of your orgasm. “I love you too, Moze.”

You stayed in each other’s arms for a long time after, savoring the quiet intimacy, the connection that felt like it could last forever.

＠ 𝒮𝒰𝒩𝒟𝒜𝒴！

Your face was hot, burning from the mix of pleasure and humiliation, but Sunday didn’t care. He never did. The way he handled you—like you were nothing more than a desperate, needy thing beneath him—only made the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Such a filthy little kitten,” he sneered, one hand tangled in your curls, yanking your head back so you couldn’t escape his gaze. His other hand cracked down against your ass, making you jolt, a whimper breaking past your swollen lips. “Think you deserve to be treated nice? After making all these messes on me?”

You barely had the chance to answer before he spanked you again, harder this time, the sting spreading through your body in sharp, electric pulses. Your tail flicked wildly, ears twitching as you squirmed beneath him.

“P-please,” you gasped, voice breaking as another hit landed.

Sunday only chuckled, deep and cruel, his gloved fingers trailing down to where you were soaked, dripping against him. He tsked. “Begging like you got any right to. You’re already so ruined, kitten. Just look at you.”

You couldn’t. Your head was spinning, body trembling from the way he forced you down, made you take every ruthless movement, every sharp pull and teasing squeeze against your throat. His grip tightened just enough to steal your breath, his lips ghosting over your ear. His cock thrusting deep into your pussy.

“What is it, huh?” he murmured, mockingly sweet. “Is it too much? Or do you like being used like this?”

You barely managed a whine, but something about the way he touched you, the way he bullied your body into submission, your walls clenching around his thick cock, had you unraveling faster than ever before. The pressure inside you coiled unbearably tight, different from any other time—hotter, messier, overwhelming.

“S-Sunday,” you gasped, your fingers clawing at the sheets, your hips stuttering as a wave of heat built impossibly high. “S’ somethin’—feels—”

Sunday clicked his tongue, unimpressed. “Use your words, kitten.”

“C-can’t,” you slurred, barely able to think. “‘S too much—!”

And then it snapped.

The pleasure crashed into you, ripping through your body like a live wire. Your vision blurred as a helpless cry spilled from your lips, and before you could even process it, you were gushing, soaking everything beneath you. It was messy, uncontrollable, unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

Sunday froze. Just for a second. Then his sharp, breathy laughter filled the air, laced with something dark and thrilled.

“Well, well,” he mused, his grip on your hair tightening as he forced you to face the soaked sheets beneath you. “Didn’t know my little pet could do that.” His free hand slid down, fingers swiping through the evidence of your shame before delivering another sharp slap against your ass, making you yelp. “You’re so fucking desperate, you don’t even know what your own body can do, huh?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, your body still trembling, too overstimulated to think straight. You tried to bury your face in the sheets, but Sunday wasn’t having it.

“Nuh-uh. No hiding from me now,” he growled, his palm cracking against your skin once more, sending another jolt of pleasure straight through your core. “You made a mess, kitten. You better get ready to clean it up.”

You were still shaking, thighs twitching from the aftershocks, but Sunday didn’t let up. If anything, your mess only seemed to amuse him more.

“Didn’t even know you could do that, huh?” he taunted, fingers trailing down to press against the soaked sheets beneath you before dragging them back up along your trembling thighs. “Poor, dumb kitten. What, did you think I’d let you off easy just ‘cause you made a mess?”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was pushing you back down, forcing your body to take everything he gave you. His cock throbbed against you, still buried deep, still relentless as he picked up his pace again, making you jolt with every sharp movement.

“N-no—can’t—” you whimpered, but Sunday only laughed, his grip tightening around your throat as he shoved your face into the soaked sheets.

“Don’t tell me you’re already givin’ up,” he mocked, voice dripping with condescension. “You wanted this, didn’t you? So take it.”

A choked gasp was all you managed, your body burning from the overstimulation, every nerve alight with the lingering aftershocks of what he’d forced out of you. It was too much—too sensitive—but Sunday didn’t care. He grinned at the way your body trembled, at the way you tried and failed to push against his grip.

“Look at you,” he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “So fuckin’ desperate. So messy. You really are just my stupid little pet, huh?”

His hand slid down, past your stomach, fingers toying with your sensitive clit in cruel little circles, sending another helpless shudder through your body. You sobbed against the sheets, hips jerking involuntarily as the sensation sent another wave of unbearable heat through you.

Sunday only smirked. “What’s wrong? Too much for you?” His hips snapped forward, making you cry out. “Too bad, kitten. We’re not done until I say we are.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[gutsby]

no offense but I feel like youre writing the same thing constantly always smut and nothing interesting can you write a different more thought provoking story

Sure thing! I wrote this one just for you, bud. I hope that it’s sufficiently thought-provoking and suited to your superior tastes. Remember, I mean no offense at all!

The Stupid Fucking Anon Chronicles

Pairing: Joel Miller x Stupid Fucking Anon

Summary: You decide to be a gigantic asshole.

Warnings: 18+. NO SMUT. SOMETHING INTERESTING! A tale so wildly thought-provoking and erudite that even its most vocal detractors must admit…it’s real different.

You were sick of seeing sex.

All the fanfiction you’d read of late? Perfunctory. Uninspired. Never mind the fact that these stories were being shared with you completely free of charge, at the writers’ own leisure, on a platform that didn’t pay in any way, shape, or form. Did I mention this shit cost $0.00?

Anyway, you’d decided to take it upon yourself that day to be a gigantic fucking asshole to one lowly writer in particular, so you pulled out your laptop and got to work.

Joel strolled into the room, sipping his beer.

“What’cha doin’, sweetheart?” he asked.

He leaned in to greet you with a kiss on the cheek, but you just swatted his touch away, too focused on the task at hand—How to be a Gigantic Fucking Asshole 101.

“Go away. I’m being insufferable online,” you snapped.

“Well, damn,” Joel said, scratching the back of his neck. “That sucks. What’s pissing you off so much, anyway?”

“This writer writes smut. Just…smut! So monotonous.”

“What, you don’t like to see us fuck?” Joel smirked.

“Well, I do, but…” you began to say, only to trail off into a blank, inane stare. You shook your head as if to clear it of the stupidity, but it was a fruitless endeavor. You were dumb as shit. “I just think their writing’s boring! There’s nothing thought-provoking to it! Just sex, sex, sex, sex!”

“Have you ever considered getting a job?” Joel asked.

“No, I enjoy being a spineless sack of shit who airs my grievances through anonymous mediums too much!”

“Oh, that makes sense,” he said. “What else?”

“And…and it’s not fair to me to read boring stuff!”

“Have you tried scrolling past their stories, maybe?”

“No. Again, I’m too fucking stupid to give that one a try. I’d much rather speak my piece to the writers online!”

Joel nodded in understanding. He heaved a sigh.

“Well, in that case…” he started, sitting down to place a hand on your shoulder and give you a firm, fuck-you look. “Maybe you should save the energy it took to type out a message to this writer, take your head out of your ass, and remember that these people owe you nothing. It makes you look like a gigantic fucking asshole when you send messages like these, denigrating the work they’ve decided to share online for free. I can assure you, the sentiment you’ve expressed in these lines will serve only to alienate the person whose writing you’re targeting. It’ll piss them off and discourage them from ever wanting to share a story online again. So before you get to typing out another one of these stupid fucking messages again, ask yourself: Am I being a Gigantic Fucking Asshole?”

You decided to shut the fuck up, for once.

[jaxon-exe]

I’ve seen that future…

If you had told Danny that joining the justice league would mean getting up at the ass crack of dawn to go to some stupid meeting, he never would have joined. Well that not fully true but he might have agreed to have a Zata tube installed in Amity. Even with how much he hates those things it still seems like a better idea now that he is flying through space trying to catch up with this stupid satellite. He was already late thanks to Skulker, which means he missed his perfectly times window to catch the watchtower in orbit so now he’s here playing catch up.

He didn’t even bother to slow down from his Mach 20 pace when he reached it. Just turned intangible and shot through the window into the meeting room. He was expecting to get scolded for being late. Or for his dramatic entrance but he was not expecting the other members to not notice him at all on account of them arguing.

Taking the golden opportunity to get out of a scolding, (he did not want to be the victim of another bat glare) he kept he’s mouth shut and floated down to Hal. Who seemed to be sulking off to the side of the fight. “Dude, what’s gonna on?”

“Batman,” the name was spat like a curse. “Had plans on how to take us all out.” Hal waved to the screen before him, inviting Danny to look.

“Really?” He floated to the screen, seeing files with each leaguer’s name. After a moment of hesitation, he clicked on his own.

“Yeah! Can you fucking believe this?” Hal growled out. “He planned on how to kill us all and is now acting like we’re the unreasonable ones.” Danny would normally be shaken by Hal’s anger. The guy so rarely got truly anger that it startled Danny every time. In that moment however he couldn’t bring his attention way from the screen. It was a decent plan. Risky, unlikely to work but decent. The fact Batman did this at all though. “You think you know a guy, right? Phantom?” Hal asked when he saw the ghost wasn’t responding to him.

Before he could continue his questioning Phantom shot off across the room. All leaguers that could keep up with the ghost speed braces from a fight when they saw him heading straight for Batman. They were anger with him yeah but they didn’t want him dead. They all knew Phantom was physically capable of doing that and had only seen him fly this fast in battle.

Their concern turned to confusion however when Danny stopped dead still just before the dark knight. Looking the man over before reaching to the side, Danny’s hand disappearing into a green vortex that appeared out of thin air. When he pulled back, a small metal box, no bigger than a watch box, laid in his hand as he presented it to Batman.

“This is a blood blossom.” The soft words cut through the tense silence. “It is one of, no it is the only thing that can kill me. For good.” Batman looked at the box, then at the boy. Determination sat on his brows despite the tired sadness that coloured his eyes. “If I…” His eyes broke away from the white lenses. “If I go bad. Please. I understand you don’t want to kill. So please, give this to someone who will kill me.”

No one moved for a moment as they processed the request. Emotions shifting wildly in them all. Superman’s landing on anger. “Why would you give him that?!” He stepped forward. “He already plans to kill us all why would you give him that?!”

“Because I’ve seen that future.” The conference was stated plainly. Melancholy waiting down on the boy as he turn to the others. “The realms are different than here.” His trembled. “Time works differently. You can walk into tomorrow and run into yesterday. Every possibly future exists within the realms.”

He scanned each heroes face as his voice harden. “I’ve seen what happens. I know what happens if I turn.” Danny took a deep breath as he met superman’s eyes. Gazing at him with eyes that saw more than what was in front of him. “I killed you first Clark.” It was stated as fact. Non of them could bring themselves to doubt him. “Then Diana. Then Hal. One by one each one of you were killed… by me.”

His breath came out frosted, his emotions making it hard to keep from freezing the watchtower as he turned back to Batman. “You survived the longest. Out of everyone here you got the closest to stopping me. In that reality however, you didn’t know about ghost. Didn’t know how to fight me.” He held out the box again. “Please, I can’t let that future happen.”

Everyone was stunned. Watching in silent shock as the horror of what Phantom said sunk in. Batman recovers quickest, slowly reaching out to grab that box which he now identified as being made of lead.

“Thank you Phantom.” There was more to those words than what it may appear. A silent reassess that the ghost picked up on.

[gaykarstaagforever]

YouTube has this thing now called YouTube Playables (great name as usual, guys; it's not a children's snack pack), that are basically in-app "Flash games"-style things that are just enough game to keep you watching ads.

The ones of these that aren't direct ripoffs of owned IP (very specifically Zuma) are barebones exercises in that bog-standard FTP addictive mobile gaming loop we all know and hate but also LOVE, minus the in-app purchases (for the time being). Like, shallow systems that are fun for exactly 30 minutes, then get stupidly hard so you'll pay to win, though you can't do that yet, so...kind of pointless.

...I still spent FOUR HOURS playing these, because they tapped into my primitive lizard brain's desire to try and master an utterly meaningless task and then feel undooly smug about it.

I didn't get any ads, because I'm a stooge that pays real money to Google every month for this, because once you go adless, you CANNOT go back. Which kind of negates the whole point of these, as addictive time-wasters that keep you glued to the platform and its commercials? But I already pay for YouTube and STILL got caught in these, so I suppose everything is going according to YouTube's plan either way, and I need meaningful human relationships.

But THAT isn't going to happen any time soon! So let me waste another evening on these by reviewing some crap garbage games for idiots that no one cares about, on Tumblr dot com!

1. Totemia: Cursed Marbles

It's Zuma. That's it. With a couple minor tweaks that make it harder and more annoying.

Just license Zuma, YouTube. I think you can afford the, what, $25 that would cost atm?

2. Sword Play

An on-rails sword slashing game (you don't control the movement, just the slashing), and you kill plastic doll guys before they kill you.

At some point they get projectiles that move really fast, that you can only destroy via specific directional QTEs that don't register properly half the time, because this is all relative finger smearing across the screen.

It was fun before that. The guys fall apart specific to how you slash them. That's something.

3. Dessert DIY

This one sucks. You're just picking from very limited options, then doing specific motions to trigger animations that create desserts that don't even look much like the promo art. People request different things, but early game all they ask for is "whatever you want to make" and "do one out of poop with bugs on it to make someone I hate throw up."

And then there's an animation of someone accepting what is obviously poop with bugs on it from their sworn enemy, they eat it anyway, then vomit.

The only fun part about this is the shameless inclusion of NPCs that look like celebrities, specifically Billie Eilish, Kanye West, and Donald Trump.

If you want to make a poop ice cream cone with bugs on it and feed it to Trump until he vomits all over his desk, this is the game for you. Otherwise, this is meh even for one of these meh games.

4. Bowmasters

Dueling Angry Birds, but you have no control of the camera and it focuses on you so you have to trial-and-error the degree of angle and throwing force to figure out how to hit and kill your opponent before they hit and kill you.

There are many colorful pop culture-inspired combatants to unlock, with a huge variety of projectiles of different weights, sizes, and behaviors. This is the most "very nearly a real, good game" one of these.

...Except that the level progression forces you to do Bonus Rounds, and one of those is "knock fruit off the head of an opponent without hitting them, and you have to do this like 5 times in a row, and we move you further away from them another 30 yards every round, and you have to use a wildly different unique projectile every round, and you get 3 chances, and that includes if you miss entirely."

It is basically impossible to do this, because your ever-changing location makes calculating arcs and force, with the ever-changing projectiles, impossible, in this limited amount of attempts. It turns into grinding it out until RNG randomly makes you win.

Which is a shame, because otherwise, this is fun. But you WILL get stuck on a stupid fruit round and stop playing this.

5. Mob Control

You have a cannon that launches blue guys. The NPC opponent does red. You both are trying to bumrush the other's base, taking advantage of buttons and switches and bonus gates that speed you up or slow you down and multiply your number of guys. Guys annihilate each-other when they run into each-other, so you need to overwhelm Red before they overwhelm you.

It's fun until it gets so fast that it becomes a chore to manage where precisely to launch guys specifically to annihilate other guys.

6. Merge Master

This goddamn game. This was 3.5 hours of my 4 hour playtime.

You have a grid board, with you at the bottom and an opponent at the top. You both have an army of warriors and dinosaurs, and a team HP bar. You click go, the warriors fire projectiles and the dinosaurs melee the nearest enemy, and last man standing wins.

Before each round, you can arrange the placement of your army, and use money you won from the last rounds to buy more warriors and dinosaurs. But the kicker is, you can combine like warriors and dinosaurs to make more powerful units, which you keep at the end of every round. They don't gain XP or anything, but as you make more money, you can buy more 1st-level units (that's all you can buy), and gradually combine them and then combine the combinations, and on and on and on, making incredibly powerful new units. And you need a mix of low-level and high-level units to have enough melee dinosaurs and projectile-throwers to overwhelm high-level enemy units, or draw fire away from your own, against the ever-changing enemy army each round.

It's a process of slowly adding more units and combining them to make stronger and stronger units, and as many of them as you can get, accounting for the limited board space. Also the price of units rises exponentially each round, so you may have 1 trillion gold, but at this point a new 1st-level dinosaur costs 245 billion.

I couldn't stop with this. It just got me. I wanted to see new exciting high-level warriors and dinosaurs, and see how fast I could take the other army down. There's more than zero strategy at work here, and battles can vary substantially from round to round, depending on what mix of units the enemy brings to the board.

It's still a rudimentary Flash-esque game, and very much akin to those shitty mobile boss rush games that raid our shadow legends. But it's not PTW yet, and the graphics are a charming and distorted replica of early 2000s 3D games, like Age of Mythology or GTA 3. It felt like something, for awhile.

It isn't, and I wasted valuable battery charge on this stupid shit. But I was having fun. And sometimes, that's enough.

...And posting about it here. It's something to talk about that isn't the world eating itself.

And we all need that sometimes.

[dearru]

do u guys know that one song by doja cat that goes “like fortnite ima need ur skin.” that’s what inspired this. hope u enjoy. | mlist

imagine you, an aspiring singer, starting to date the wildly influential streamer, kodzuken. you two are the definition of a picture perfect couple, and you start to make lots of content together. as a result, your career begins to take off, and kenma’s content grows in popularity,

everything’s great— until it isn’t. the relationship ends up crashing and burning in an embarrassingly public breakup.

people are devastated. video essays are made. diehard fans even claim the split is the equivalent of “parents divorcing.”

it’s a whole ordeal.

but as time passes, the wounds heal. and in true internet fashion, it becomes old news. some people still whisper about how they believe you two are soulmates, but for the most part, kenma’s chat and your comment section don’t get flooded with invasive questions about whether you two will get back together anymore.

fast forward to two years or so after the breakup, you and kenma end up growing in your respective careers. his several business ventures have grown exponentially, and you’re now selling out stadiums.

kenma doesn’t stream as much as he used to when you two were together, but he chalks it up to having to juggle so many different commitments now. fans speculate as to whether or not that’s the true reason, but as a collective, they agree that they’ll take whatever content they can get from the elusive creator.

despite not streaming as frequently, kenma still likes to indulge his audience every once in a while by hopping online. normally, he likes to decide what to play, but every once in a while, he’ll let chat decide.

tonight is one of those nights.

on a whim, he gives in to requests for him to boot up fortnite— an old favorite of his— for the first time in months.

big mistake.

the second he opens the once beloved game, he gets jumpscared by something that even his worst nightmares couldn’t have fathomed.

you.

everywhere.

to his horror, and the chat’s delight, he finds that you’ve become the poster child for fortnite’s newest campaign. your face is on the menu screen, banners of you flash in bright colors, and you’re plastered everywhere in the item shop.

they say men are constantly haunted by the ghost of their first love, and in a cruel twist of fate, it’s a saying that has become ironically true for kenma as he realizes that epic games has made you into a fucking skin.

he debates the consequences of throwing his pc into a wall, but his screen flashes with an overly excitable chat faster than he can make a decision. old fans are freaking out, new gen fans are wondering what all the fuss is about, and someone donates just to type “YOU’RE FUCKED.”

kenma has half the mind to laugh as the notification illuminates his face because he knows the donor is right.

he’s not an idiot. he knows that you’re popular now, but to be so famous that you have your own skin? he’s in absolute disbelief. there’s no way the universe hates him this much. it’s bad enough that you’re on every headline and radio station. now you’re in his favorite video game?!?!

he is so unbelievably, irrevocably fucked.

—a/n: i think that kenma’s viewers are evil and they all band together and emote on kenma with ur skin whenever they see him online.

—a/n #2: has anyone written abt this concept before. pls lmk. i would love to read it bc i giggled so hard when the thought popped in my head HAHAHA.

—a/n #3: guys i don’t play fortnite, watch streamers, or write for kenma at all so pls don’t hate on me ok thx love u

[writinginatree]

Too Sweet

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson/female!reader

Summary: Xaden never understood how opposites could attract — not until he meets you and realizes that he doesn't have to understand your sweetness to cherish it.

Anonymous requested: I was thinking in a xaden fic based in "too sweet" from Hozier, where he's all like wanting the reader but also thinking like she deserved more, but with a happy ending ( maybe smutty too ✋🏻

Part 2

Xaden never understood that opposites were supposed to attract. On a physical level, sure. But when it comes to personality and ideology? How could anyone be with someone so wildly different from themselves that they can't possibly understand the other? Someone whose whole attitude to life is completely unlike their own? To him, it just seemed like a recipe for heartbreak. Then again, the saying only claims that opposites attract, not necessarily that they're compatible.

Since meeting you, this is something he's been thinking about a lot.

You're everything he is not; happy, bubbly, energetic, adored by just about everyone and making friends left and right. You're... sweet. There's no other way to put it. What someone like you is doing in the Riders Quadrant, Xaden doesn't know.

He tries to keep his distance at first — liking people is dangerous, and you're much too likable. Needless to say, it doesn't work. Being in the same squad, he constantly finds himself in your presence, and while he keeps to himself as much as he can, he finds it hard to outright avoid you. Almost against his will, he slowly gets to know you. He can't exactly help it, seeing as you sit next to him in almost every class, seek him out at mealtimes, asking him to come sit with the rest of your squad, offer smiles every time you pass him in the halls. You're everywhere, a persistent ray of sunshine piercing into the darkness of his life.

He doesn't understand you. Doesn't have a clue why you're so nice, or how you always manage to be so sociable, no matter what time it is or what lethal bullshit you're about to face, let alone why you seem to genuinely like him. Unlike most others, you have no prejudices against the marked ones, but even so, Xaden is not an easy person to like these days. He can't afford kindness, weakness. Not with all the lives that quite literally rest upon his back.

But no matter how curt he is, no matter how often he only gives one-word answers to your steady stream of chatter or declines your offers to study together, your friendliness never wavers. Every morning your beaming smile greets him in the gathering hall at breakfast, and as days turn into weeks, he often finds his gaze automatically scanning the room for you upon entering, hoping to catch a glimpse of that precious smile. Your presence becomes a comforting part of his routine, always there and yet never intruding. For all your persistence in trying to include him, you're never overbearing. You don't push him when he doesn't join your squad's study session, give him opportunity to join a conversation should he want to, but accept when he doesn't.

He shouldn't get too used to your presence — two of your year-mates have died already, and there's no guarantee you won't be next. Life is dangerous in the Riders Quadrant, and Xaden keeps wondering why someone so sweet would choose this life. You seem more like the type who would be a healer — or maybe even a baker or gardener, far away from the cruelty of war. And yet you thrive even in this environment. He supposes he could just ask you about it, but he doesn't want to get to know you, gods damn it.

Thinking back later, Xaden will realize that the superficial attraction he felt for you from the first starts to grow toward something more the first time your squad leader pairs him with you for a sparring session.

He has already seen you fight at Assessment, but facing you on the mat himself, he gets a much more intimate feeling of your fighting style. You're fast, full of the same energy that is in everything you do, smiling even as you struggle to dodge his punches and get past his defense. You're good. Not as good as him, but your enthusiasm makes up for that. Xaden has to admit — at least to himself — that sparring with you is actually fun. The training session seems to be over in the blink of an eye, and as you step off the mat, both of you sweaty and breathing hard, Xaden is already looking forward to the next, hoping he'll get you as his sparring partner again.

For once he allows himself to be drawn into conversation, answering your questions on how to improve your technique as you walk out of the gym side by side.

The better he gets to know you, the more he has to keep reminding himself to stay away from you, that you're too sweet for him. But, oh, it's hard; he enjoys your company so much. Garrick has caught on, too, teasing him about what he calls his crush on the sunshine girl every time he sees him talking to you. And though Xaden vehemently denies having such a silly thing as a crush, he can't even convince himself of that, let alone his best friend. Having known him as long as he does, Garrick always sees right through him.

The relief Xaden feels at Threshing when he lands and spots you already standing on the flight field in front of a Red is immense. He quickly shoves the feeling down, preferring not to think about what it implies. He does not have a crush, and the last thing he needs is for his dragon to think him a lovesick fool and change its mind about bonding him while it still can. He feels the unfamiliar presence of her in the back of his mind, her golden eyes piercing into him after he dismounts.

He feels all the other people's gazes on him, too, the disapproving stares from where leadership is seated on the dais, their disdain for him permeating the very air. He keeps his head high as he walks to the rollkeeper, refusing to so much as look at the people who'd doubtlessly been hoping he would meet his end in the woods today.

Blood keeps trickling into his eye from the cut Sgaeyl gave him. It stings, but the annoyance of it is worse than the pain. Pain is fine. But constantly having to blink away the blood blurring his vision, feeling it run down his cheek like tears — it makes his skin crawl with discomfort. He's not going to seek out the professors giving first-aid, though. Bothersome as it might be, it's just a little cut, and he can't afford to look weak.

As he walks back to Sgaeyl, his eyes automatically find you in the crowd of mingling first-years, just as they always do. You're watching him, too, but unlike everyone else whose gazes darken, you smile at the sight of him. When you notice him looking, you wave and start toward him. As you get closer, Xaden notes a split in your lip and a blood-soaked bandage around your thigh, but since you're hardly even limping, Xaden assumes that the injury can't be very bad. No, if anything, there's even more of a spring to your walk than usual, your hair bouncing with every step.

Instead of stopping in front of him when you reach him, you throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight, and suddenly, Xaden doesn't remember how to breathe. No one just hugs him out of nowhere like that. No one would even dream of hugging him at all. And yet here you are, doing just that and apparently thinking nothing of it, judging by the easy smile on your face when you let go after a couple of seconds.

"I'm glad you made it," you say. "I mean, I never doubted it, but still."

"I'm glad you made it, too," he admits, quiet enough that none of the people nearby will hear. He allows himself to return your smile, just for a moment, absentmindedly lifting his hand to wipe blood from his eye again. Your gaze immediately snags on the cut, a small crease appearing between your own brows.

"Your dragon?" you ask.

Xaden nods.

"You'd think the relics they'll give us should be enough to mark us as theirs, but apparently not. Mine stabbed me in the thigh."

"Daggertail?"

"Swordtail. Went right through and back out on the other side, but luckily she didn't cut through anything important." You shrug, the grin reappearing on your face as you tilt your head to the side, studying him. "That'll be one hell of a badass scar you're gonna have there."

Xaden bites back another smile, watching with slight confusion as you remove the kerchief you're wearing around your neck today. For a moment, Xaden catches a flash of glitter dotting the black cloth, then it's too close to see clearly as you bring the balled up fabric to his brow and dab up the blood. Your touch is much gentler than his own, and, with the cloth soaking up the blood, much more effective, too.

After a few seconds you pull back, pressing your now bloody neckerchief into his hand. "Keep it."

"Thanks," he mutters past the lump he suddenly seems to have in his throat.

He'll never get used to how kind you are. It's such a little thing, to notice how much the blood in his eye was bothering him and do something about it, and yet it means more to him than you could ever know. It'll probably take a while until the wound completely stops bleeding, but with your kerchief to wipe at it, at least it won't bleed all over his face anymore.

He pretends to listen as you start rambling about your dragon and the thrill of the short flight here, and though Xaden agrees that there's nothing that can compare to the feeling of flying, he can't focus enough to keep up with the sheer endless rush of words. It should be annoying, he thinks. The constant happy babbling, the needless touching — even now you're standing much closer than necessary, shaking his arm as you bounce on your feet while telling him about a particularly exciting part of approaching Milis. If anyone else did that, he'd shove them away to get some space, tell them to stop being so childish. But for some reason it doesn't bother him when you're the one doing it.

Spotting Garrick in the crowd, Xaden hurriedly uses the excuse to walk away toward his best friend. Turning his mind to more practical matters, he forces his thoughts away from you with great difficulty, still reeling from your unreasonable kindness.

After Threshing, something changes, and Xaden finds himself spending more and more time in your company. Maybe it's just that you and him are slowly crystalizing out to be the most powerful in your squad. Or maybe he's going down a slippery slope, no idea where it might lead but unable to stop the descent.

Too sweet, that's what you are. But then, Xaden has always liked sweet things. He remembers when he was a child, being told that all those sugary things he liked so much would hurt his teeth. With you, he feels similar to how he did then; afraid of the hurt he might be causing himself in the long run and wishing to preserve himself from it, but unable to resist the immediate temptation of sweetness. He craves it, that contrast you bring to the usual bitterness that is his life.

And it's refreshing to be around someone who isn't scared of him, even if he still doesn't understand why you aren't intimidated of him like everyone else. Despite your easygoing attitude and bubbly personality, you're far from a fool, unrelenting and self-preservative when need be.

It's an uncomfortable thought, the idea that maybe you're seeing past the stoic facade he keeps, know that he wouldn't hurt you unless you hurt him first. He's not used to people seeing him for who he is anymore, only for who he has to be. The Great Betrayer's son, the heir apparent, the revolution's leader. Traitor or hero, depending on who you ask. But with you, he can simply be Xaden. It scares him, that vulnerability you bring out in him, but he'd be lying if he claimed not to like how simple everything seems when he's with you.

The only difficulty is the secrets he is forced to keep. Luckily, you're very understanding when he says he doesn't want to talk about anything to do with his father's rebellion, and if you suspect that he's up to anything illegal, you don't show it. Some of it — like the meetings with all the marked ones in the quadrant to make sure everyone is helping each other get by — he could probably trust you with. By now, he knows you well enough to know you wouldn't immediately jump to the worst conclusions, would probably even help him sneak out. But in a way, the worst possible conclusions are uncomfortably close to the truth, and he can't risk revealing even such a comparatively harmless secret. No, the less you know, the better — for both of you.

Enjoy your company as he might, sometimes it does grate on his nerves, that seemingly endless happy energy you radiate. Like today, sitting at breakfast and tired out of his mind as he sips on his second mug of coffee when you come bouncing into the gathering hall, fresh from the gym. If he didn't know you get up before sunrise every morning to lift weights with another girl from your squad before breakfast, he'd think you came straight from your bed after a full night's sleep. Of course, even with getting up almost two hours earlier than necessary, you're most certainly still getting more sleep than he is.

Sliding into your usual seat beside him, you greet everyone with more enthusiasm than anyone should have at this time of morning. Xaden returns only the barest of nods, which is more than he's spared anyone else so far. He can already tell this is not going to be his day, and he doesn't feel like wasting energy on being sociable.

You know better than to take it personally, humming a happy little melody under your breath as you start to eat.

As much as Xaden normally enjoys the sound of your voice, the noise in the hall is already bad enough, and he doesn't need you adding to it. "Would you stop that?" he snaps, more harshly than he had intended.

You fall quiet with an apologetic smile, and Xaden immediately feels bad about losing his patience on you.

He downs the rest of his coffee, contemplating whether or not getting another mug of it would help his mood. Probably not, but it's worth a try to keep from snapping at you again. You're trying to be considerate, doubtlessly having noticed that the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than usual, but it simply isn't in your nature to be quiet for long. He likes that — most of the time, at least. The silence he takes refuge in can feel suffocating at times; having you around to break it makes life decidedly more bearable.

"Maybe you'd be less tired if you tried going to bed a little earlier," you tease.

The glare he levels on you is the kind that would have a lesser person shrinking in their seat, as evident by the wary looks from your squadmates, but you're not intimidated in the least. If anything, your smile only widens.

Unbelievable.

"How do you want to know what time I go to bed?"

You shrug. "You know I have the room next to yours. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and when I look out of the window then there's always light coming from your window."

"Stalker," he mutters, rolling his eyes when you giggle. The sound effortlessly melts away the worst of his irritation, leaving him still tired and moody, but decidedly less likely to kill anyone for testing his patience.

"I wasn't stalking you on purpose," you defend yourself, the laughter lingering in your voice, "I just like looking at the snow in the moonlight. It's always so pretty, don't you think?"

Xaden shrugs. It's been a long time since he's spared any thought to the beauty of nature. The next time he can't sleep — which is almost all the time — he'll try to enjoy the nightly view from his window too, he decides, if only so he can understand what you like about it.

"The snow would be all nice and well if we didn't have to fly in it," your squadmate inserts themself into the conversation. "Have you seen how much is coming down right now?"

You nod. "Maybe it'll let up until our turn on the flight field. Milis says if this keeps up, she and the other dragons might just refuse to show up." Quieter, only for Xaden, you add, "Let's hope they don't, then you can use the time for a nap instead."

"I don't need a nap," he grumbles back, just as quietly. Truth be told, he probably could use one, but if he were able to sleep, he wouldn't be this tired.

"You sure? I'll even sing you a lullaby if you'd like."

You wink at him, grinning in that way only you can, and Xaden knows that despite your playful manner, you're serious about helping him fall asleep if you can.

He shakes his head, smiling against his will. "You're a dork."

"And you're an insomniac."

"I'm fine."

"Whatever you say."

People's intimidation of him turns to outright fear once his signet manifests, shadows stirring wherever he goes. As usual, you're the exception. Your eyes shine with awe and something like pride as you watch him demonstrate his newfound powers to you with rapt fascination, not a trace of fear to be found.

"That's amazing!" You bring a hand to the shadow closest to you, gingerly brushing your fingers along it. Xaden feels goosebumps rise on his skin, as if it had been him you touched. "They're actually solid! How is that even possible?"

"No idea," Xaden admits. "I'm only just starting to figure out how it works."

As his signet grows stronger, your shadow is the one he's most aware of. Even when you're not in the same room — or even the same building — as him, he always knows exactly where you are and what you're doing. It's not what he should be using this power for, but the shadows seem to have a mind of their own. They're very attached to you. Or maybe he's just making that up to excuse his embarrassing lack of control. It's not like he wants to be some kind of obsessive stalker; he simply can't help the fact that you're constantly on his mind.

If you have noticed that the shadows near you always seem more alive than is natural as of late, you haven't mentioned it. Not very surprising, considering you're occupied with trying to control your own water wielding signet. Xaden has taken more than one involuntary bath since it manifested a couple weeks ago, and has learned to keep his distance from you while drinking water. When you lose control, it's always him getting drenched, as though your water is drawn to him the same way his shadows are to you. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't the middle of fucking winter. You always try to remove the moisture from his clothes afterwards, but while you have already gotten a little better at it, even your best efforts don't get them any less than damp, so Xaden — or whoever else falls victim to your flood — is left either freezing his ass off in wet clothes, or making himself late to the next class by returning to his room to get changed.

Worst of all, Xaden can't even bring himself to be mad at you about it. He's no better; the only difference is that, so far, his shadows haven't tried to drown anyone.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about that incident as often as he does, and he definitely shouldn't be so giddy about it. It was hotter than it had any right to be, watching you almost murder someone on his account. It also made his heart flutter with a whole array of feelings he can't even begin to name. While Xaden obviously doesn't need your protection, the fact that you're willing to publicly stand up for him means a lot. The knowledge that you got so angry in defense of him, that you wielded enough water to flood a whole stairway without even meaning to because someone had been talking shit about him... Just thinking about it makes him more emotional than he'd like.

But while your signet can be wild and destructive, the water is usually gentle. It's an accurate reflection of you, he thinks, untamed and unpredictable, inherently soft but just as capable of terrible harm when provoked. When you're calm and in control, the water flows steadily along like the ever present stream of your chatter, lively and somehow soothing at the same time. Xaden enjoys watching it, how it can flow through even the smallest crack, how it glitters in the light. He enjoys watching you wield it even more, the look of concentration on your face, the beaming smile when you get it to do what you want. It's hypnotizing. A dangerous distraction he really can't afford. He loses track of everything else all too easily when he's with you. You're an undertow, irresistibly pulling him in, and Xaden would happily drown in your sweet waters.

When his lips finally meet yours for the first time, you taste as sweet as Xaden's favorite chocolate cake, and he's instantly addicted.

Afterward, he's not even sure how it happened. You'd been sitting in commons after doing homework together, enjoying a few more minutes of quiet in each other's presence before turning in for the night. You'd rested your head on his shoulder, smiling up at him as he teased you about already being tired so early in the evening, the only other sound the dripping of the melting snow outside the window. Then, before he even knew what he was doing, Xaden had leaned down and kissed you.

Lying in bed that night, he still can't believe it. Even harder to believe is the fact that you'd kissed back, smiling from ear to ear and gracing him with another peck of your lips when he'd wished you a good night and fled to his room. He still feels the ghost of your lips against his, imagines he can still taste you as he licks them.

Trying to form a coherent thought feels like swimming through an ocean of thick, cloying sweet honey. When he closes his eyes, there's only you. Your bright smile and soft eyes, the sound of your laugh, the feeling of your lips, over and over again. The tiny part of him still capable of logic is telling him he made a mistake, that he should stay the fuck away from you. Indulging the feelings for you, which he is no longer able to deny, can't lead anywhere good. He should turn back while he still can, for your sake as much as his own.

You deserve someone nicer, someone you won't be in danger for associating with, who doesn't have so much to hide. Someone who can openly worship the ground you walk on, prioritize you over everything else. Xaden wishes he could be that person, but the burden he took on after his father's death won't allow it.

He plans on telling you as much, but when he sees you in the hall the next morning, he can't bring himself to get the words out. Your face lights up at the sight of him, the awareness of the joy his presence brings you making his heart ache. Then you come skipping over and peck his cheek, first making sure nobody is watching, which has Xaden melting all over again. No, as much as he knows he should end this before it can really start, he simply can't.

You walk to breakfast in companionable silence, which Xaden is very grateful for. He's not ready to talk about whatever this is that's developing between you. You'll have to, eventually, he knows. He'll have to decide if he wants to accept that he's smitten and just see where this will go, vulnerability and problems that would come with it and all, or if he wants to try and shut you out. It's barely a choice, considering how he loathes every moment he's apart from you. He should have never allowed himself to get this close in the first place, but now it's too late.

"You shouldn't be seen with me so much," he tells you a few days later. The both of you are late for math because you'd been too busy making out in an empty corridor to hear the bells, and he can't help but worry what everyone will think when they see you walk in together, kiss-swollen lips and all. "People will say you associate with traitors."

The roll of your eyes is a stark contrast to the gentle tone of your voice when you reply. "People see us together all the time, Xaden. It's not any different just because we're more than friends now. And I don't care what they think, anyway. You're not a traitor, and anyone who thinks you are is an idiot and doesn't matter."

Xaden has to bite his lip to keep silent. If only you knew what he's been up to. Dragging you into the revolution is the last thing he wants, and yet, he can't help but imagine how much nicer it all would be with you by his side. With a sense of justice as strong as yours, you would certainly want to help if you knew the truth of what's out there. No matter. He's not going to put you into that danger, not with how uncertain everything still is.

Twice him and Garrick have managed to smuggle weapons out now, chancing upon a friendly drift by mere luck the first time. Twice is not enough to determine whether they'll get away with it in the long run. For all he knows, someone could already be suspecting them — which is exactly why you should not be seen with him. Even unaware as you are, it's not safe.

And what if you catch on? Xaden knows you know he has secrets, and adores you even more for not pushing the matter, but eventually, your curiosity is bound to get the best of you. If you find out about the weapons runs, he'll either have to tell you what leadership has been hiding — which will sound like madness when he has no way to prove it — or let you believe him to be a traitor without reason. He can't imagine either.

Unfortunately, you choose just then to say, "You know, I missed you at dinner yesterday."

Xaden acknowledges your comment with a nod but doesn't reply, unwilling to lie but unable to tell you that he'd snuck out with Garrick to deliver the weapons they'd stolen for the fliers.

"I'm not saying that because I want to stalk you or anything," you continue. It's become sort of a running joke between the two of you to call the other a stalker for such observations. "It's just that you had me worried. Maybe next time you could let me know when you're going to be busy?"

"Yeah. I can do that," Xaden says, praying you won't ask where he's been.

"Thank you." You smile, briefly halting your steps to give him another kiss, and Xaden is too lost in the sweetness of it to notice you've already reached the classroom until you open the door.

Despite his resolution to not let your relationship — or whatever it is — progress any further, he does. It's like any time he's near you, he loses all common sense.

Sgaeyl is getting annoyed with him, telling him to make up his mind. It is clear he's already made his decision, she says, so he might as well commit to it. She's right, of course, even if Xaden hates to admit it.

He doesn't want to be the selfish asshole he feels he's being by letting himself bask in your presence every chance he gets, by allowing himself to dream of a future with you by his side. It's unattainable, no matter how much he wants it, and yet there's a tiny part of him that dares to hope and refuses to settle for less. You may not have actually talked about your feelings so far, but Xaden knows you want a real, deeper relationship with him as much as he does. It could all be so perfect, if there weren't all those responsibilities Xaden has to think of, the lives depending on him. He can't drag you into that mess in good conscience; just imagining that inherent joy leaving your eyes as the truth destroys your faith in humanity makes him feel sick.

Maybe he could be with you without letting you find out? You always respect his privacy, never probe about the secrets you know he has.

But no, he can't keep you in the dark forever. He'll tell you, sooner or later. You deserve to know the truth, terrible as it is. You deserve to fight by his side, if you so choose. Whatever horrors the future holds, Xaden wants to face them together with you.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he admits one night, lying in your bed. One last, half-hearted attempt to make you see he's bad for you. And if you brush it off like you always do, he'll accept that you want him too, consequences be damned.

"What isn't?"

"Us."

"Why not?" you ask, voice as soft as the drizzle of rain falling outside the window.

There's more than a dozen reasons he could list, but most of them have to do with matters he can't — won't — tell you about. Someday he will, if the world keeps turning long enough, but for the time being, it's better you don't know.

"I'm not sweet like you," he mumbles instead.

You just smile, the way you always do when he's being difficult. "No, I guess not. But you're not the bad guy you want people to think you are, either."

"You can't possibly know that."

He thinks of everything you don't know, the secrets he's hiding. Would you still think the same of him if you knew the truth about him, everything he really is?

"I do, though. You're not a bad guy," you repeat with a gentleness he doesn't deserve. "You're just you. A survivor. Maybe a bit broody. But that's okay, 'cause I love you just the way you are."

Your fingers brush a few stray hairs from his forehead, and the last of Xaden's resolve crumbles. Neither of you had dared use the word love so far; hearing it now, Xaden wants you to say it over and over again.

"Good. Because you're not getting rid of me anymore."

"No?"

"No. Even if you probably should."

"Good." You smile, ignoring the second half of what he said, and brush your lips against his. "Now stop worrying so much and go to sleep."

[growling]

Hey. I'm saying this very gently in my friendliest tone. Some people (namely mentally, developmentally and intellectually disabled people) are just straight up not able to understand politics, and that's perfectly okay and not a moral issue on their part, so don't treat it like it is.

Some people may need you to explain it to them in a very simplified, easy to understand way so they can maybe get it, some people just won't be able to understand no matter how you word it and I need you to not blow up at them for it and think they're being "willingly obtuse and ignorant of the world they're living in" or whatever. Politics is a very complex and nuanced thing that nearly everybody is gonna explain differently and have wildly different opinions on what some words or stances actually mean or should mean. And some of us just simply can't deal with that and cannot be made to do so with just the right arguments and definitions.

I'm autistic (+ my schizophrenia makes my thinking very disorganized and sometimes incomprehensible which adds to that too) and I have a LOT of difficulty with understanding and learning these kinds of very complex and nuanced discussions, and a lot of the time I'm just not able to. And that's fine and doesn't make me stupid or not putting in enough effort or imply I'm "looking away" from all the problems in society. Can some of yall stop trying to make us feel guilty or even evil for not engaging in things we are not able to grasp well or at all

[lingeriae]

"because you're my wife."

the voice is aggressive and harsh, which isn't unexpected because of the person it comes from, but the words have you feeling warm even with the possessiveness and aggression that comes off of it, it still has you face heating up and your eyes averting from his ruby red ones that seem to see right through you.

sukuna's fist is clenched and his body is tense as he stands in front of you, unknown and unwanted emotions flowing throughout his body, his heart beating rapidly and loudly in his ears—he wonders if he's having a heart attack at the moment. his swallows as he takes in your beautiful side-profile, light hitting your sun kissed skin just right, his fingers itch with the need to grip unto you. to take you.

his throat feels tight.

your stubborn, reckless—smart but reckless. it gets on his nerves, the way you don't seem to care about anything, not even yourself. your defiant, especially against him. don't follow rules, and go by what you think is right, and no one, not even him, can get in the way of what you think is right. and it's funny, you're just a mere human, a bothersome woman. sukuna could take your life easily, he has no doubt you would put up a fight, but he could kill you.

that was the plan all along, marry a member of the zenin clan, get the information needed, then kill them.

but things had changed, a lot of things changed since he met you. you made sukuna...feel things. you were different from all the members of that shitty clan, with your hair that rose towards the sun, always looking neat with the little curly coils and always feeling soft to the touch, you didn't cease to amaze sukuna with the little way you styled it and with the way you cared it so delicately.

your fierce glare that rarely left sukuna's gaze, never backing down even when he gave you the most deadliest of looks that had anyone else cowering, those same eyes that allow him to see how vunerable you are when you let him have his way with you and show him how you truly felt at times. those plumpy soft lips, full and round, they felt like heaven against his own when they overlapped. your sweet fucking voice, always finding something to cuss him out about, always saying his name in more ways than once. shit don't let him start on your fucking body.

you made sukuna feel things, give him this warm and nice feeling inside and it makes him sick. everything would go according to plan if you didn't make sukuna fall for you—if you weren’t so you. that's why he can't kill you,

and that's why he's so fucking upset.

with your arms crossed over your chest, you unintentionally make the male infront of you glance down at your supple breast that sits temptingly against your bra, you suck your teeth in annoyance still refusing to look at him. "i was your wife before, and it wasn't a problem." before, before he fell for you. before he got infactuated with you.

his jaw tightens and he grabs your chin, forcing you to stare into his eyes. "i said what i said, you'e not doing that shit. you're gonna get fucking killed."

you drag your hand from his grip as if you were burned, returning his equally intense gaze and ignoring the way your panties seem to cling unto you. drenched with annoyingly arousal. "don't talk to me like im a fucking child, ryomen."

sukuna’s head tilted in brief wonder and amusement, astonished that you would spit his last name out with such venom, knowing he could kill you in a second. knowing that not only was it his name but yours.

he lets out a bitter chuckle, "stop fucking acting like it."

it's a silent battle between you and him after that. both of you silently daring the other to look away as you continued to glare at each other—a silent battle between husband and wife. a war between two faith-fucked lovers.

sukuna huffs out a breath, shaking his head wildly before cradling your delicate and god-like face in his palm—akin to some form of desperation.

“what is it going to take? to prevent you from doing this to-to stop you from going on this fucking suicide mission?!” his voice almost cracks.

sukuna ryomen’s voice almost cracks.

your hand is so little in contrast to his. it has committed less cruelty and faced less harsh treatment compared to his, yet you place your hands over his and caress them with such gentleness. such tenderness and love.

and sukuna’s heart cracks at the words that left your lips, inhaling sharply as if he had been stabbed in the chest.

“there’s nothing you can do, you can’t stop me from doing this. nothing you do or say will change my mind and that’s final.”

the king of curses forgets how to breathe.