#Maybe? I can hope. But either way. Those people if they exist when it comes down to it aren't willing to actually stick their necks out

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART TWO)

It was weird being in my doctor's office. Even weirder sitting out in the waiting room while my son Braden was getting the news confirmed. I wondered if the other people there had any idea or could read how much I was hiding my anticipation and excitement. Trying not to get my hopes up TOO much.

Too late for that, though. A week before, Braden had peed on the pregnancy test. I wasn't a water sports guy, and Brade wasn't a water sports guy, but it became our regular weekly ritual. Stepping into the master bathroom and then Braden pulling out his dick to pee on that stick.

It took several months to conceive. It was disappointing, at first. But Braden was the optimistic one. "You got strong swimmers, Dad, I know it. Let's just enjoy the act of making our first kid together."

So we did. Each time we fucked - and that's all we did now and would do now until conception - it was with a purpose. We had the idea of pregnancy in our heads. And we spoke them out loud. We talked about baby names while I slow pumped my raw dad cock in and out of my hot Marine son. We talked about the changes Braden's body would undergo once he got knocked up.

But the thing that drove me wildest, that drove Braden wildest, was the incest. Once either of started talking about how my son was also going to be my grandson, or how I was gonna give Braden a baby brother, how I was gonna fuck his little brother into existence inside of Brade... well, both of us would cum explosively.

Maybe those extra hard cums did the trick. The pregnancy test got a plus sign. It was wild to watch my son's soft cock grow instantly hard at the news. I certainly boned up.

"Bill?" came the doctor's voice as he popped out into the lobby. "Wanna come back?"

Dr. Fiedler was my general practitioner, and had been ever since he took over the practice from his father. He was still young, mid-30s. I had felt self conscious coming to him, but Braden insisted that he felt more comfortable with Fiedler than with some new doctor.

I tried to read the man's expression as he led me back, but he had a poker face. Until we got closer to the door and I saw a smile form on his lips. Hell, yes.

Brade was shirtless on the examining table, sitting up for all of his hunky perfection to see. God, if Fiedler touched my son in any way... get a grip on yourself, Bill, I told myself.

Braden's smile calmed my weird jealous streak. He didn't have a poker face, just pure joy. Already he was putting his T shirt back on, which I kind of regretted. We'd definitely have to fuck when we got home.

Fiedler motioned for me to sit in a chair while he pulled up his rolling desk chair.

"Well, Bill, I've told Braden the news, but he's for sure going to be a father."

"Yeah?" I replied with a beaming smile that I couldn't suppress. "That's incredible... I mean." Catching myself, though not in time.

Fiedler laughed. "It's OK, guys... I think it's beautiful." He looked back and forth between me and Brade. "Why do you think my dad retired early?"

"Shit!" Braden exclaimed with a laugh. "For real?"

Fiedler nodded. Doc was a handsome, cute fucker, I'll give him that. And the fact he'd bred an incest baby was wild to think about. "They've made some real advancements in fertility pills," the doctor said. "I'm sure Braden here doesn't need them."

"It took us a while to conceive," I admitted. Maybe I was concerned and wanted to make sure everything would be OK.

The doctor gave a quick nod. "Yeah, it takes longer with men." He looked over at my son. "Braden's all Y chromosomes, so if the sperm that reaches it is also Y, it won't take."

"So it's going to a boy?" Braden asked excitedly. No one could accuse him of being a dumb jock, though he was committed to researching pregnancy in a way he never got into studying in school.

"It's a boy," Fiedler assured us.

The doctor spent the next fifteen minutes filling us in on the next stages and then pulled out a pad. "Here's an obstetrician I can recommend," he said, writing down a name. "Dad and I used him, so he's sympathetic."

I took the paper. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, Doctor, how many kids have you...."

"Three," Dr. Fiedler answered. "And we're working on number four now." Somehow, the guy could say it in a way that was endearing as it was lewd. He turned to Braden. "Fatherhood's the best, Braden... and nothing like the first time."

***

There were phases. The excitement period over the news. Braden and I fucked at least twice a day. Trying to relive that moment of conception. Getting deeper into our sex talk. Choosing that baby name. I never thought I'd be one of those ego-centric guys who'd name his kid a junior. But once Braden went on about he really wanted our kid to have my name, I got real into the fuck, real into making out Brade, and real into the idea. Our first son was going to be Bill, Jr.

Then came a two month stretch of morning sickness. With Braden, it wasn't just the morning. He had it rough. I felt bad. I did my best to look out for him, even with my long hours. I got into the rhythm of bringing work home or tackling some on the weekends. It wasn't ideal, but it meant I could step up and do some of the basic household stuff. I'd gotten used to Brade taking care of all that.

In a strange way, it was like I was 18 and doing my share to help Susan out as we raised Braden. I could envision doing this once Bill Jr. was born. It would be even better, since my son was conceived with purpose, with love. Conceived with Braden.

Around the time the baby bump started showing, Braden felt better. Then the pregnancy hormones started kicking in. My son could get moody... sullen, angry, manic... but damn did he get horny. I'd wake up to him sucking me. Or he'd pounce on me when I got home, pulling me by my tie back to the bedroom. It was like our fucking honeymoon.

It got better. Once Braden started swelling, I got even more turned on. I was caught off guard by how much that growing belly and that overall pregnancy thickness would turn me on. I learned not to go rough when having sex, but that was better, too. Just pumping into my hot son while I watched that big round swell where my soon-to-be-born son was. Seeing that pregnancy gut sway lightly but tightly on his midsection. Where our son was.

And Brade's taut muscular chest grew rounder as he body prepared to make milk to feed the newborn when he arrived.

Bill Jr. was a big baby. 9 and a half pounds. I was over the moon, but it was the smile on Braden's face that thrilled me the most.

"We did it, Dad," Brade said as he held our infant son in his arm. He was still in a hospital gown, and even so he looked hot. Braden could look hot in just about anything, I decided. "Bill, Jr."

I saw our son squirm. "He's a feisty one," I said.

Braden laughed. "Was I, Dad?"

I shook my head. "Nah, you were a docile infant. Even as a toddler you were quiet. I don't think we're going to be so lucky."

"Probably not." Braden's eyes were on our son, taking in the miracle of a new life he'd brought into being. He looked up at me, then. "He's gonna be like you, I know it."

"We'll see."

***

I was proud of Braden. Nothing is like parenthood to make you grow up fast, but it was wild to see him step into responsibility. I wasn't able to take paternity leave since to the outside world, I was just helping my single-parent son out. That was the only tough part of this, the fact that Brade and I had to hide our relationship and the fact we'd made a son together.

The first couple of months were amazing but also tough. No sleep, changing diapers, the feeling of always being on shift. And my son and I weren't having sex. Brade wasn't ready, and my own libido was taking a hit. I jerked off in the shower from time to time for a quick release, but that was it.

Until one day I came home to see Brade shirtless on the couch, breastfeeding Bill Jr. It was just, I don't know, angelic, beautiful. Brade in his prime of youthful masculinity and parenthood. Feeding our son.

But there was the physical sight of Braden's body, too. The pregnancy weight was mostly gone but not entirely, and the fullness gave his ex-Marine muscle a beefiness.

"Hey Dad," he said softly as he looked up from Jr to me. "How was work?"

I shrugged and sat down across from him. "Work's work," I replied without wanting to go into the stress of my day. Brade didn't need me to unload that on him. "Nice to come home to this."

Braden laughed. His voice was deep now, a man's grown voice, and sexy as hell. "To what?"

I leaned back. I was chubbing up in my trousers. It was inappropriate sure, but my son was so hot and the neglected sex drive was coming back with a vengeance. "You. Feeding Junior." I paused. "Is that wrong to say?"

Braden got what I was thinking. He shook his head. "I didn't know you were a milk guy."

"Never was," I said, thinking back to when Susan was breastfeeding. "It's you, Brade, the fact you give me this gift."

His voice got soft, emotional. "Let me put Junior in his crib, OK?"

I nodded.

I was in a weird mood when I went to the bedroom to get out of my suit. I felt like I'd sullied something good and perfect about parenthood. Maybe my son would be freaked out. I'd hung my suit up in the walk in closet and had removed my tie when Braden entered the bedroom, still shirtless.

"Junior left some for you, Dad," he said in a quiet tone that I knew was lust. "We doing this?"

I felt my dick rock hard in my briefs. Braden could probably see that beneath my shirt tails. "It's probably wrong, isn't it?" I said.

Braden stepped up. "Inside this house, inside these walls, it's not fucked up, Dad," he said. Throwing back the words I'd told him more than once. My heart beat double time and my breath stopped as he grabbed my hand and guided up to his bare pec. Brade had let his chest hair grow in and there was soft fur all around the swollen nipple.

"You get sore tits?" I asked as my fingers played with the fleshy nib.

He nodded. "Yeah, a good sore though. Means our son has a healthy appetite."

"Oh Brade," I hissed as I leaned in for a kiss.

When you're in an ongoing relationship, particularly with your own son, you can't really rank the sexual milestones, but this definitely ranked up there in hotness. Me and Brade connecting for the first time since the birth of our son. I plunged my tongue into his mouth and felt his flutter back against mine. I could tell he was horned up now, and as I felt up his full pecs, his own mitt reached down to grip my boner.

Braden was the one with willpower to pull back. I could see the erection in his loose shorts.

"I don't think I'm up for fucking yet, Dad, but why don't I lie back and let you nurse me?"

I nodded dumbly. Not bothering to take my dress shirt off, I watched Braden strip and get on the bed while peeled down my underwear to free my hardon. Already I was leaking, dripping clear sap steadily off the tip.

My son's dick was hard, rock hard as he lay back on the pillow, legs slightly spread and his hand cupping his milk-full chest muscle. "Sorry to make you wait for sex," he said.

"Buddy... you should never feel pressured," I said. "But I won't lie, I've missed this."

I crawled on the bed, on top of Braden. Part of me was sad I couldn't be inside him, but even the feel of his nakedness and warmth beneath me was incredible, particularly as our cocks touched.

We kissed, and I did my best to go soft and slow before pulling back.

"You sure it's OK if I have a taste?" I asked Brade.

He nodded, with a grin. "More than OK. The idea is hot to me, too, Dad."

"Fuck," I hissed. This was kinky as hell. But as I kissed along my son's neck and down that hard upper chest, I got crazy excited. My lips traveled along the softer, fleshier part of his pec, dusted in his hair, before I found that swollen nipple.

I licked and sucked at it. I could taste the sweetness there, but milk wasn't really flowing out. That was Ok, I guess. Junior had probably tapped that teat dry.

I felt Brade's hand on my head, massaging my hair. Then I heard his deep, masculine voice. "Kind of munch a little, Dad. Gently, then suck on it at the same time."

Fuck, my son was coaching me on how to nurse at his tit. It took a second, but I coordinated the actions and was rewarded with the flow of his milk.

I moaned excitedly as I tasted Brade's breastmilk, swirling it around my tongue, then swallowing as more came out. I learned to coax more out. It tasted different than what I expected but both rich and watery at the same time.

I was going wild, but it turns out Brade was, too. I could hear the urgent excitement in his voice. "Fuck, Dad, this is so hot! Do my other tit."

The right one was more swollen and raw-looking but Braden didn't seem to mind as I latched my mouth on it and suckled hungrily.

His left hand cradled my head while his right went down to stroke off. I wondered if I could get him to cum like this, but I realized I wanted more. It had been too long since we'd had sex.

Relinquishing his teat, I gave it one last soft kiss then scooted down to taste my son's prick. He was leaking like crazy - like father, like son - and when Braden realized what I was doing he let go other than to feed his dick to me.

It took five bobs and my son was spurting into my mouth and throat, hard. He'd been majorly backed up.

"Dad!" he gasped as he gave it up. "Oh shit!" The aftershocks were intense for him, so I finally pulled off, gently lapping the dribbles which kept coming.

He still had a horniness in his voice. "Want me to suck you?" he asked as I rose up to look him in the eye.

I shook my head. "Can I feel a little more, buddy?"

That made him laugh. "Leave some for Junior," he said but twisted to reach over for the lube in our nightstand.

I took the bottle and squirted some on my prick, kneeling up to show it off for my son. Brade always loved seeing my dad cock and I loved showing it to him. Maybe before long it could be inside him again.

But that would have to wait. I tossed the bottle aside and leaned down. I still couldn't believe the miracle of life and the way Braden's body was producing milk like this. I licked around his tit and then placed my mouth square over it.

This time I had the knack down. I suckled and felt and tasted the milk in my mouth. I didn't want to overdo it, so I just went fot it. Storking furiously as my son breastfed me.

I came hard. As I rode out my orgasm I finally pulled off, resting my face against his meaty chest.

"Love ya, buddy."

"Love ya, too, Dad. So much."

I scooted up and met him in a kiss. I'm sure he was tasting his own milk. Braden was still hard and I hadn't gone soft myself. Maybe we'd go for a round two but just then we just enjoyed the closeness and connection.

"Dad...?" Braden finally said.

"Yeah, Sport?" I said, massaging his Marine-buzzcut hair. We'd talked about what life was going to be like now that he'd served out his enlistment contract, but the stay at home dad thing was more and more appealing to him. And I was getting very into the idea of supporting Braden that way.

"You know I think you're an incredible father, right?"

I leaned up. "I guess I could see where this is going," I said with a wry sadness. I knew that while I'd done my best raising Braden, I hadn't always been the best dad.

He had a contrite look on his face. Maybe a little hurt that he had to be saying this. "I just want you there in Junior's life, maybe in a way you weren't in mine."

"Oh buddy..." I said, heavy in emotion.

He cocked a grin to defuse the heaviness. "Maybe you just knew the hard-to-get approach worked on me."

I laughed, which made Braden laugh.

"I'll do my best, son," I said more seriously. "I want us on the same page when it comes to parenting."

"We will be, Dad," my son said in earnestness. "I know I'm going to learn from you."

****

It was a month before I was fucking Braden again. It was even off to the races with the pregnancy talk during sex. But I didn't need to check up on my son's birth control pills to know he was taking them religiously. I could trust him totally. We'd talked about how we wanted another son, maybe two more, but we wanted a break and time to enjoy raising Junior.

And for all the ups and downs between me and my son as a couple, and yeah the occasional fights, I knew we were of one mind with what we wanted for our family.

[gingerswagfreckles]

Hey everything is getting so crazy and infuriating so I'm making a lot of posts about gentile antisemitism and I just wanted to say that to my like 5 or 6 gentile followers who actually reblog this stuff despite the inevitable backlash and ostracization that comes with being associated with Jews nowadays, I see it and I really really really REALLY appreciate it. Beyond what I can really articulate.

[neiptune]

a simple complication

cw: 1.6k wc, female reader, miscommunication my beloved, you have no idea how to confess your feelings to the one miya twin who doesn't remember what happened at suna's party

You’ve never once felt uncomfortable in a Miya household but, as you stand frozen by the doorstep, you realize that just might be about to change.

As you take a deep breath, relentless inner monologue giving its best shot at calming you down, Osamu suddenly swings the door open and you find yourself taking a wobbly step back, surprised. One garbage bag in hand, he looks equally startled.

“Hey”, he smiles after a moment, “what are ya doing?”.

You can barely look him in the eye, which only confuses him more.

“Nothing. I mean, I wanted to see you. Was hoping we could talk?”.

“Uh, sure. Come in, I’ll be right back”.

You quickly do as you’re told, take your shoes off by the door and gingerly shuffle to the couch before your brain decides you may in fact be too much of a coward to initiate the conversation at all.

The apartment seems empty, which indicates that Atsumu is either sleeping or simply not home. You try to remember how many drinks he had the previous evening, at Suna’s halloween party, but the entire night is still such a blur. Except from one specific detail that still makes heat crawl from your throat up to the roots of your hair.

God, how could you be so stupid? It’d be easy to blame it all on the stupid drinks Rintaro kept bringing you, liquid courage, a dumb wink sent your way as he casually suggested it was time you stopped being a pussy. No, it wasn’t entirely his fault, although you should’ve guessed nothing good would come out of a halloween party thrown in the middle of January.

You were in a pretty low effort costume, clown makeup, black dress. You’re all adults now, which made you think no one would actually commit to the bit as much as they did back in high school or during college, but were soon enough proved wrong as soon as you saw Aran and Rintaro respectively in a Daphne and Velma costume. They looked ridiculous and spectacular at the same time.

The twins were the only ones proving your theory, they both arrived to the party in casual clothes and not one bit of makeup on. A shame, the opportunity to see them wear mascara or eyeliner is rare but when they do men and women are affected all the same. You clearly remember once catching Rintaro himself staring at Osamu for a little too long.

“What’s up? Are ya hungry? Brought back some leftovers from the shop, we can have lunch if ‘Tsumu didn’t gobble those down”, his voice makes you jump and your friend stops by the couch, brows suddenly furrowed. “Or not. Are you okay?”.

“Yes!”, you should be relieved, honestly, he’s acting normal. Which means that maybe you didn’t ruin anything. Are you about to? Perhaps coming was a mistake-

“What did you want to talk about?”, Osamu has always been way too good at sensing other people’s emotions, he quickly forgets the lunch proposal and sits next to you instead, close enough for your legs to be pressed against each other. You feel like you may be about to combust.

You’ve known him almost all your life, high school feels like a century ago. The Miyas came as a package deal back then, one couldn’t exist without the other, but as time passed and adulthood shaped their lives in different ways, most people thought each finally got to exist as his own person. Those people were wrong: at least to you, they always held their own individuality. It’s what made them special. It’s what made you fall in love with Samu when he was still a hotheaded teenager, parts of that immature youth still flashing through his grown up demeanor, especially when he’s put in a room with his brother.

“I just wanted to tell you I really value our friendship. You know that, right?”, it feels like you might be about to cry, the way your voice is wavering. He cocks his head.

“Why are ya being so formal?”, Osamu offers a warm chuckle.

“You know that, right?”, you insist.

“I do”, his features soften, “not sure what I’d do without you, honestly”.

You only realize you’re tormenting your fingers when he covers your nervous hands with his own, warm and solid and so much bigger. Once more, it reminds you of the previous night and suddenly you’re worried you might truly cry. The twins don’t do well with tears, every single time they’ve seen you cry throughout the years, they always comically panicked as they awkwardly tried to offer some comfort. It never worked. You wish Kita was here to save the day, just like he always did back then.

“Samu, I’m sorry”, you murmur.

“For what? Now you’re worrying me”, he squeezes your hands in his and you look up from your lap to meet his perturbed gaze.

Like a slap in the face, it hits you. He doesn’t remember. Now, this is a scenario you didn’t prepare yourself to face.

Osamu gently bumps his forehead against yours and you almost throw up on the spot.

“Hey? Care to let me in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“You don’t remember?”, you don’t mean for it to come out in such an accusing pitch but it’s inevitable.

“Don’t remember what?”.

Incredulous, you stare back at him. The front door opens once more and this time you both jump. You’re too shocked to pay attention to Atsumu entering the living room, back from a run and dripping with sweat. Samu’s hands on yours can only remind you of how it felt having them briefly take your face in them as he clumsily tried to kiss you back, or maybe push you away, who can tell? You were too drunk and clearly he was too. You basically jumped his bones in Suna’s hallway, thank god no one walked by to witness the way you ran away right after. You wish you were drunk enough to forget that too.

“Hi”, Atsumu says and you’re too absorbed by the vortex of your mortifying thoughts to notice how he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu”, you say back distractedly, gaze kept on Samu’s coffee table.

“Go take a shower, you’re dripping on my counter”, Osamu barks as his brother casually opens the fridge to take out a protein shake.

“What’s for lunch?”, Atsumu ignores the order and flashes him a grin instead.

“My elbow in yer ribs if ya don’t go take a shower right now”.

“Jeez, fine. I’ll leave you both to it”.

Osamu furrows his brows as he watches Atsumu disappear upstairs with his shake and an amused grin he’s unable to interpret. It dawns on him that you barely talked to each other, which is usually not what happens. You’re disgustingly close, always have been walking the line between being siblings and something else he’s never really been able to pinpoint. He remembers once asking Atsumu if he liked you and he knows his brother well enough to be sure he was being sincere when he scrunched his face and shook his head no. Not like that.

Osamu would lie if he said he never wondered whether you could like him like that. But you’ve never been as… relaxed with him. It feels like Atsumu is the brother you’re most comfortable with and all these years he’s patiently waited for the news to drop, the relationship to start. Except it never did. He still wonders if ‘Tsumu had to friendly turn you down at some point. He still wonders if you could ever like the Miya you’re clearly less relaxed with, instead.

“What did I forget?”, Osamu gently grabs your chin to make sure you look up and meet his gaze once more. Your mouth feels dry.

“We…”, no, you can’t just say that. We kissed. Incorrect. More like you jumped him in a clearly drunken state and he was too much of a gentleman to fully push you away. It’s a faint memory, his hands on your face, and you can’t recall at all if his lips moved along with yours at some point. They most likely didn’t. And now, if you tell him, you’ll ruin everything. Maybe you should just keep quiet, be a coward and bury the whole thing in a place within your chest, inaccessible to anyone but your sense of guilt.

“We what?”, for a moment, Osamu’s exceptionally gentle tone, paired with his proximity, is inebriating enough to make you want to kiss him again. Then, something odd catches your attention and you blink a few times, surprised.

“What’s this?”, you reach to slightly pinch part of his dark hair between your thumb and pointer finger, to remove what looks like a gold grain. It’s dry and barely visible on your fingertip.

He follows your gaze and lets you go, slightly pulling back with a smile.

“Ah, that. I thought I washed it all off”, Osamu casually runs a hand through his hair a few times, “it’s temporary color spray”.

“You’re gonna dye your hair again?”.

“Nah. ‘Tsumu thought it’d be hilarious if we came to the party with a costume no one would notice. I think only Shinsuke guessed it by the end of the night and even he wasn’t so sure”, he offers a handsome grin but you feel petrified.

“What costume?”.

“We went as each other! Ya couldn’t tell us apart, could ya?”.

His amused smile slowly melts away as he takes in your horrified expression, eyes growing bigger by the second.

“Are you oka-”

“Oh my god”.

[uglypastels]

omg what about Logan being like the softest with a sensitive/shy reader. Idk in what context like maybe she’s just overwhelmed with life and kinda closed off in terms of voicing what’s wrong and you know he’s usually very stoic but he’s the BIGGEST softy. Totally not projecting btw.

YEsss Logan is such a fucking softie, no matter how hard he'd want to try and hide it. thank you for being my first request for this fandom i hope i can do it some justice 🫶 and pleeease, we love to project here so please, go right ahead.

warnings: darkness. anxiety. loneliness. alcohol. fem!reader. reader's mutation specified. mentions of past [implied toxic] relationship. so some angst but also bunch of fluff at the end. also please don't come for me if he's a bit out of character. this is my first time writing Logan so it will be trial and error.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

It was the dead of the night. Quite literally. All around you was so quiet and dark that the rest of the world might as well have ceased to exist. All you heard was the floorboards creaking under your footsteps as slivers of moonlight illuminated your path through the corridors of the mansion. It was the rare instance that you felt at peace. 

Yes, you knew almost as soon as you stepped inside the large building and saw all these mutants walking around happily and carelessly that you had found a true safe haven, and yet, months later, you still had not found your bearings. It did not help that you were not exactly in the age bracket of most of the residents here. Having the mansion double as a school meant most of the mutants were in that school-going age range, and while they were lovely (for the most part), you had no desire to befriend children. Then, those who you felt more drawn to socially, like Storm or Jean, were all apart of that special ops team, which always left them busy, if not completely absent, while away on missions. 

Thus, most of your days went by in solitude. Something you had gotten used to throughout your life. Over the years it had become natural for you to simply disappear into your surroundings. Wether you wanted to or not, people simply overlooked you. In hindsight, it explained your mutation perfectly… or was that just an aftereffect of it? You had always wondered if it was one’s personality that influenced the mutation or the other way around.

Either way, for you, it all merged into one dark abyss. 

By now, you had gotten a hang of all the floor plans of the giant building, especially the route between your room and the kitchens. 

You hadn’t checked the clock when you got out of bed, but it must have been around 2 am, if not later. You didn’t expect anyone to be up at this ungodly hour. Especially not walking out of the dark kitchen exactly as you were coming through the threshold. The two of you bump, chest to chest, and the contact immediately made you burst out in a high-pitched scream. From the other side of the impact, you heard a muffled grunt and the sound of a blade being pulled. That was enough for your flight or fight mode to activate. You almost choked on the deep breath you took. The blade swung in your direction, but it only slashed the air where you once stood. 

‘Who’s there?’ it was a male voice. Hard and deep, almost wild. In your other form, your eyes adapted much better to the dark, and so you could see him looking around himself wildly. You counted the sharp appendages in his hands— no, they were coming out of his arms— six long claw-like blades ready to impale the very first thing that’d move. 

There was no doubt about it that this must have been the infamous Logan everyone around the mansion talked about. From what you had heard, he had been away for almost a year on some top-secret assignment for the Professor, but now he had apparently returned.

And what a comeback he has made, nearly stabbing you in the hallway.

‘Who’s there?’ he repeated his question louder, still looking around.

‘Just me.’ Your voice came out as the exact opposite of his, soft and weak, and you immediately regretted your words. Just me, as if he was supposed to know what that meant.

But it must have done the trick, as Logan retracted his claws. His shoulders visibly slacked at the lack of imminent danger.

‘Well, Me, you can come out of hiding. I’m not gonna hurt ya,’ he grumbled, ‘let me just turn the light on–’ 

‘Wait!’ You squeezed your eyes shut and let the cool air of the night brush over your bare arms. When you opened them again, all you could see was Logan’s large frame standing inside the kitchen, most likely hovering over the light switch, surprised at your sudden call.

‘Sorry, you can uhm– turn the lights on now.’ And like that, with a quiet flick, the kitchen illuminated with a soft orange glow. 

Logan’s eyes were immediately on you, scanning you up and down for any sign of recognition, but you already knew there would be none. Even if he had ever seen you before, there never was.

‘Do I know you?’ he cocked his head with the question, and all you could do was shake your head. 

‘I doubt it.’ No one knew you, but that didn’t feel like a smart response.

‘Care to introduce yourself, Bub?’ He leaned against the wall with the light switch, and maybe it was his overall greatness as he practically towered over you, but you felt a rush of heat fall over your face as he looked down at you in expectance. Awkwardly, you pushed out the sounds that formed your name, with a bonus of an extended hand for him to shake. 

‘And you must be Logan, right?’

He confirmed your suspicion with a grunt as he took your hand, squeezed firmly, but not painfully, and shook it once. Then, silence fell between you. 

Two strangers who met in a complete, nearly fatal accident. It was only to be expected you would have nothing to say to one another. But you were, after all both awake this late in the night, and that was enough to compel you to talk. 

‘Couldn’t sleep?’

‘Just got back, actually.’ His eyes glanced to your side and that is when you noticed the duffel bag that lay in the corridor. Then, only when you looked back at him did you take in what he was wearing. Not the expected gym shorts or sweatpants with an old shirt. Instead, Logan was dressed in a black button-up under a dark motorcycle jacket. With that, he had a boot cut-jeans and the boots to match. From the tiny dark dotted pattern on his shoulders and the light pitter-pattering that was occurring outside, it was visible he had just come from out of the rain. 

Immediately, a parade of questions entered your mind. Where had he been? Why did he come back so late? What was he doing in the kitchen? And so much more, though none of it would leave your mouth as you doubted he would talk to you about his secret mission. 

‘You alright?’ His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, and you realised how you must have looked. Staring up at him with wide eyes, not saying a single thing. Another heat flare hit your cheeks.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

He cocked his head in an examinatory fashion. The disbelief evident in his eyes. 

‘You’re new here, aren’t you?’

‘Relatively,’ you shrugged. ‘Got here a few months ago.’

‘Parents kicked you out?’ He assumed the most common backstory that comes with the residents of the mansion.

‘Not exactly,’ you kept your response short. After all, you could hardly tell a stranger you just met that your boyfriend had kicked you out of your shared apartment when he found out about your genetic abnormality. You had never been sure how he would have reacted, but the events that unfolded were even beyond your imagination. But the past was the past, and you didn’t want to dwell on it. The important part was that not a day after this conversation, you were crying in your car with nowhere to go. It was by chance that weeks after your break-up/eviction, you stumbled into some other mutants who told you about the Professor. You weren’t too sure about going to seek shelter at a school of all places, but in reality, the Academy was much more than that. Though it did give you the perfect opportunity to safely train your abilities.

That and so much more was what went through your head, but you didn’t say any of that to Logan. Why would you? He didn’t know you. He didn’t care about your problems, and you didn’t blame him for it. 

On the contrary, you appreciated that he didn’t press you for more details. When you answered the way you did, he simply nodded in understanding and made his way over to the fridge. The blue glow illuminated his tense features. Strange, for a man who had been a year on the go on some secret spy adventure, you would have expected him to return at least a bit beaten up. But besides maybe some signs of a bad sleep schedule, no form of strain was visible on his face.

‘You want something?’ he looked over at you, making you realise you had been, in fact, staring and not very subtly either. 

‘I’m good, thanks.’ 

‘Suit yourself,’ he went back to inspecting the contents of the fridge before sighing with disappointment. ‘They still don’t have anything stronger around here?’

‘Oh, if you’re looking for beer–’ you walked over to a cabinet at the other end of the kitchen. You tapped a corner, and a small code pad appeared. You tapped in the code, and the cabinet opened to reveal a fully stocked mini-bar. ‘Scott had it installed over the summer,’ you explained when you saw Logan’s confused expression.

‘Explains the babyproofing.’ He walked over, and you handed him a cool bottle of beer.

‘Well, it is a school after all.’ You held in a smile as the thought occurred to you that the kids might not have been the only ones who weren’t supposed to know about the secret compartment. The rivalry between Cyclops and the Wolverine was known all too well around the whole campus, even for newcomers such as yourself.

Logan smirked, taking his beer. You were about to offer a bottle opener, but he hit the neck of the bottle against the edge of the table and with a pop and a clink, the cap came right off. 

‘Here,’ he exchanged your bottles, giving you the open one. You watched him repeat his actions with the second drink. Your eyes were still on him as he chugged down half of the beer in one go. He probably could have downed the whole thing if it wasn’t for his look down at you, most likely noticing your entranced look.

‘That staring a part of your powers, too, then?’ he commented, and the acknowledgement immediately made you turn your head in the direction of the window.

‘Sorry. I just— I tend to do that, I guess.’ You wrinkled your nose. Being on your own around so many people, you had gotten used to people watching, observing them from a distance like a show on TV that you kept on for the background noise.

‘What do you do, anyway?’ He asked bluntly, ‘I thought I had done you in good back there.’

‘You would have,’ you chuckled, remembering just how close his claws had come into contact with you. ‘It’s hard to explain. I just kind of—’ You noticed the shadow that fell over the floor from the table and lightly grazed it with the tip of your toe. With a deep breath, the world in front of you changed. Except the exact opposite was the truth. ‘Disappear.’ You finished the sentence, punctuated by your new state.

Logan’s eyes widened as you disappeared in front of his eyes. Where the shock came from, he couldn’t explain. He had encountered these sorts of mutants before. But this felt different than regular invisibility or teleportation. With his heightened senses, he could always detect those sorts of hijinks. No one ever disappeared to him. But you— as soon as you had faded away, it was as if you had completely fallen off the face of the earth. Not a single trace of you lingered behind. When you spoke, just as you had in the hallway, your voice didn’t seem to be coming from one place. It was all around him, almost like a whisper, a voice inside his own head.

With a blink of an eye, you reappeared before him. Just as you had stood there moments before.

‘There’s not really a name for this, I think; at least no one around here could come up with anything that made sense.’ Not that you had any conversations that made people interested enough to do the research. ‘But from my own understanding, I kind of become one with the shadows.’

‘And what about the light?’ he recalled your yelp when he had tried to turn on the light.

‘I merge with the dark, and so when new light sources interfere… it’s not pretty.’

Logan simply nodded as he took the last swig of his beer.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, you leaning against the counter and he against the large table. 

‘You’re doing it again, Bub.’ He smirked, calling out your lost stare. 

‘Sorry,’ you hadn’t even realised you were doing it. You had just been looking around the room and may have, perhaps, accidentally lingered a look at his frame for a few seconds. And then you caught sight of his hands. More specifically, his knuckles. There was a faint pink glow on the skin, but besides that, you would never be able to tell that deadly claws could grow out from there. You blinked. ‘Sorry.’ You were doing it again. Quickly, you drank the rest of your beer. The bitter taste lingered in your throat, suffocating the burning questions that you wanted to ask.

‘Spill it out.’ He hit you by surprise with the command.

‘Uh–what?’

You knew there were plenty of mindreaders around, but you had not thought it was one of Logan’s abilities. ‘How did you–’

‘It’s all in your face, sweetheart. You think just ‘cause you’re quiet, you’re hard to read, don’t you.’ His assumption left you a bit stunned. It wasn’t that you had thought exactly that, but more so that you never considered that you were making any expressions that were that easy to interpret, as you never really had anyone pay that much attention to you to point it out.

 ‘If you want to say something, just say it.’ Logan said the corner of his lips lifted in a small smile. ‘If you’re wondering if it hurts,’ he looked down at his knuckles, ‘it hurts just as any other one-foot-long knife cutting through skin.’

‘That’s awful.’ You gasped, considering what it must be like to have such a mutation that inadvertently harmed you any time you used it.

‘You get used to it after a while.’ 

Another round of silence. This time, the longer it went on, the more you started thinking how you must be inconveniencing him. With the beers drank, there was little for you both to still be doing here, but also didn’t want to be rude by just up and leaving. After all, you didn’t know Logan very well. 

‘You sure you’re alright?’ He asked, coming out from behind the table.

‘Yeah.’ You tried to smile but could tell it probably did not reach your eyes. Logan moved with a sense of apprehension, unsure of how to approach you. Being a year on the road, not to mention the years of solitude before he had joined the Professor’s team, had not exactly prepared him for these kinds of situations. He didn’t know the right things to do or to say. But to you, just his presence was enough. Just him being there, talking, or in this case, just seeing you, was more than you could have asked for. ‘I’m good.’ 

And yet, ironically, though you had actually meant it for once, you really did feel alright, but something about the situation caused tears to prickle in the corners of your eyes. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation that made you overly sensitive. Or the alcohol. 

You blinked the tears away and smiled awkwardly. ‘It’s just been a long day.’ or week. Month. Year. How about your entire life?

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ There was that quirk in his lip again, that ghost of a smile. And you couldn’t figure out if his response was just a sarcastic quip, understandably referring to his past days, which you were sure did not consist of a walk in the park. Or did he actually mean it, and he did want you to tell him more? Well, your moment of contemplation brought on another wave of silence, and the heavier it fell, the worse you felt to go back to your problems.

The sudden sound of footsteps pulled you back into your world. People must be slowly waking up; meanwhile, you hadn’t had an hour of sleep yet, and the effect of that started to hit.

‘I should— should probably go.’ You muttered, taking small steps in the direction of the door.

‘Well, the offer always stands.’ Logan followed you with his eyes, turning in his spot as you passed by him. See you around, Nightshade.’

‘What?’ the nickname caught you off-guard, stopping you in your tracks. 

‘Sorry,’ Logan winced, ‘I don’t know—’ that’s what he gets for trying to be cute. 

‘No, don’t apologise. I like it.’ Your smile finally found its full form. A “thank you” almost slipped past it, but you held yourself back. It felt too cheesy to get all sentimental about something as silly as a nickname. Especially since he didn’t know what it meant for you. He didn’t need to know didn’t think you’d ever belong amongst these people enough to get a moniker. 

And maybe it didn’t mean anything at all, maybe he had just said it as a mindless comment on your powers. Or maybe not. Maybe he had really tried hard to put that smile on your face. 

You would never know.

Unless you took that one small step. Because, of course, all you had to do was ask, just like he had told you, but maybe another time. For now, you just bid him farewell, hoping for that next opportunity to certainly come sooner than later.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[sundrop-writes]

Hi! I love your works! I saw your request are open, so I was wondering if I could ask how would Spencer react to the reader fainting into his arms?

I love this request so much. As a POTSie, this is really close to my heart - and idk if this was your intention or not, but I decided to make it that the reader has POTS.

Requests are OPEN

How would Spencer Reid react to you fainting around him?

Warnings: Reader's gender is not described - reader is gender neutral; the reader's looks are not really described either; the reader faints due to a pre-existing medical condition; the reader is mentioned to have POTS; this is Spencer during his Professor era; the reader is also a Professor at the University that Spencer teaches at; this fic uses Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); the reader loses consciousness completely and Spencer attends to them to make sure they are okay; some light fluff/romance; I think that's it? Not really proofread. This could be described as hurt/comfort (I found it very comforting to write) - even if you aren't chronically ill, I encourage you to read and enjoy!!!

...

Spencer didn’t really know you.

Since he had started teaching at the university, he had seen you around many times, and a face like yours - someone as gorgeous as you definitely stuck out in his mind. But he had never formally introduced himself. He could have used the excuse that he was busy preparing his lectures, and racing back and forth to the BAU between those lectures. But even if he hadn't spoken to you, he had been admiring you from afar for a long time. 

That was why, when he found a notebook that belonged to you sitting on one of the benches on the quad, he didn’t hesitate to bring it to your office. It needed to be returned to its rightful owner, and that owner was someone he had been secretly admiring for some time now. It was the perfect excuse to introduce himself to you. He thought that sitting on the notebook when he went outside to take his morning coffee break could be considered fate. Especially when he flipped open the cover, looking for some sign of who it belonged to, and he saw your name written on it. 

(Did he also flip through the rest of the pages, seeing the poems you had written, along with some beautiful sketches of birds and stills of flowers, and felt his stomach stir even more, realizing that he was falling for you before even talking to you? Maybe. He would have denied it, though.) 

He knocked on your door late, on his way out for the day, hoping that you were still there, and he was surprised to find the hinge creaking open underneath his fist. 

“Hello?” He called out. “Professor L/N?” 

“Oh, come in!” You called back. 

Spencer walked in and found the room to be a mess of papers - many open file boxes scattered about the room, with papers scattered everywhere in an utter hurricane of paper. 

You were focused on the file box in front of you, a frown knit across your brows as you flipped through them one by one, clearly intently looking for something. 

“I’m sorry.” Spencer apologized. “Is this a bad time?” 

“Oh, uh-” You finally looked up from your searching, and when you locked eyes with Spencer, you were surprised to find a doe-eyed, curly-haired, incredibly attractive man standing in the middle of your messy office. “I’m sorry. I- you’re that FBI guy, right? Reid?” 

You ignored his question in favor of being introduced to him properly - you had heard his name from the mouths of other people; gossip from your colleagues about how a real FBI profiler would be teaching a class about the psychology of serial killers and profiling. 

“Yes.” Spencer nodded. “I’m Doctor Spencer Reid. But you can call me Spencer, if you prefer.” 

“Spencer.” You repeated back, grinning at him. “I’m Professor L/N, as you said. But you can call me Y/N.” 

“Well, Y/N, I just came to return this.” Spencer explained, reaching into his bag and pulling out your notebook. 

Your eyes instantly lit up at the sight of it. 

“Oh my gosh.” You gasped quietly. “Thank you so much.” You took it back, giving him a grateful smile. “I don’t even know where my head is today, I-” 

Spencer gave a small grin as he followed your gaze around the mess you had created in your office. 

“I know this looks chaotic, but…” You looked for an excuse. “A student asked me for a copy of an essay they wrote a few years ago as a reference for their thesis. And I thought I had everything well organized. But - apparently my head is just not on very straight.” 

The forgetfulness, and your inability to go through the files in an efficient way - the lack of focus, it was only compounded by your pre-existing condition. Which was only made worse by the fact that you had forgotten to eat lunch, and it was well past dinner time now. 

“Oh, that’s completely understandable.” Spencer chuckled. “I can help you look through some of these if you want?” 

Your hands were shaking as you grasped the notebook and as Spencer became blurry in your vision - you thought about going to sit down in your office chair for a break after it was too late. 

“Y/N?” 

He became worried when you didn’t respond, when the expression on your face became more distant and he noticed your lips paling from a healthy color. 

In the next moment, you were falling. 

Spencer rushed to catch you, his instincts kicking in - everything in his body screaming that he needed to keep you from hitting the floor, that he needed to keep you safe. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, and the other arm wrapped around the middle of your back - he was surprised by how heavy your body felt when you were purely dead weight, your body entirely limp as you went completely unconscious, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in a scary way. 

He knelt down slowly, taking you down to the floor in the most gentle way possible, not wanting to drop you accidentally and have you hit your head because of his incompetence. The more the seconds ticked on and your eyelids stayed limp, your lips almost purple and your mouth gaped - the more his own heart thumped in his chest with intense fear. 

“Hey, hey, come on.” He continued to cradle your head with one hand, but now that you were mostly resting on the floor, he moved his other arm from your back to gently rub across your cheek - hoping to rouse you back to consciousness. “Come on, stay with me. Y/N. Wake up. Please?” 

He gently tapped your cheek, no where close to slapping you - but hoping to stimulate your nervous system with touch in some way. 

A huge breath of relief sucked through his chest when your eyelids started flickering and your eyes began moving around, clearly searching for something in the room as you regained consciousness. You let out a moan, trying to form words, and Spencer put a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. Just relax.” He told you, trying to keep his voice calm - trying not to betray any of the anxiety that he was truly feeling. 

His first instinct was to call an ambulance - obviously you needed medical attention. What had happened to you? What if it was something serious? 

And while he was patting down his pockets for his phone, you let out another moan and lifted one of your limp arms, drawing his attention to the jingle of a medical alert bracelet on your arm. 

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and moved to grab the pendant on the bracelet, reading it carefully. 

Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome 

There was an emergency number listed, but it wasn’t 9-1-1 - Spencer had to guess that it was a family member of yours, or a doctor. So he had to guess that calling an ambulance wasn’t the thing to do. The condition sounded familiar to him - he read medical journals on occasion because he found them to be mentally engaging, and - because of occasions like this; if he could use the information to help someone. 

He remembered that it was a condition in which the autonomic nervous system fails to regulate blood flow, resulting in fainting when too much blood pools in the legs. So elevating the legs can help a person with the condition regain consciousness easier. 

Spencer hated to rest your head on the hardness of the floor, but he rushed to take off his blazer, and folded it up to put it underneath your head as a makeshift pillow, and then he looked around frantically - and the only good thing he could find were the file boxes. He stacked a few of them and brought them closer, and then situated your legs so they were elevated up on top of the boxes, above your prone body. 

He took your hand and held it - again, simply out of instinct. Wanting you to know that he was there with you while you lingered on the edge of consciousness. But with his helpful first aid, it wasn’t long then - only a minute or two - before your eyes blinked open more confidently and you tried to sit up. 

“Hey, take it easy.” Spencer implored, pushing you gently to lay back down. “Just rest for a few minutes, okay?” 

Usually - you would have rushed to become upright again, even if it was against medical advice. But something about Spencer’s presence was gentle and soothing, and you found yourself actually listening to him. 

“Sorry,” You muttered out, the word practically turning into a slur on your lips - your face tingling and numb as the blood slowly migrated back to your head. “I - I didn’t mean to s-scare you.” 

“You did scare me a little bit.” Spencer chuckled. “Hopefully next time I see you, you don’t end up on the floor.” 

“Well, my condition gets b-better when I eat s-salty foods.” You remarked, telling him the truth about the medical advice you had been given, feeling bold to let this roll into a flirty opportunity. “Maybe you could t-take me to dinner-r next time?” 

Spencer grinned down at you, and let out a light laugh. 

“Sounds like a date.” 

...

A/N: I have to say that this was so comforting for me to write. The amount of times in my life that I have fainted and been terrified, or I have been berated by the people around me for ‘faking’ it when I was feeling incredibly ill and barely conscious. If I fainted and I woke up to Spencer holding my hand and treating me so well like this - I would feel so relaxed and comforted. This was so amazing for me to write, and did help to heal a small fraction in the huge lifetime of medical trauma that I have.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

[thefluxsystem]

10 mindsets about my DID that have helped my system:

[This is solely for the sake of sharing experiences & supplying food for thought. This post is not implying these takes are the “right way” to view systemhood.]

1. We’re individuals and we’re parts of a whole. We see each other as people in our system, but in a different way than those in their own bodies. We share a brain. We share a life. I’m me, but I’m also him/her/them at the same time. If you take a piece out of a puzzle, it doesn’t cease to exist, right? It’s still its own object. It just doesn’t make much sense when it stands alone. We need each other to be truly complete.

2. Time keeps coming. I know it’s not an unlimited resource, but it’s not scarce either. Okay, so somebody in the system didn’t get to do what they planned today. They’ll do it tomorrow. No big deal. No need to fight about it or stress over “how I’ll ever manage all this”. We’ll simply give it another shot in the morning.

3. Reality is subjective. We’re a very philosophically-inclined system, and I could write books on what “reality is subjective” means. Basically, reality is based on perception. On a societal level, it is based in the common agreement of what something is. If anyone’s perception tests the limits of this common agreement, it is labeled as untrue. This ties into why DID is largely disbelieved; it doesn’t fit in with the common reality (perception) of the average person. So it is seen as fake. And, well, if I’m going to be told I’m wrong for the most basic, inherent part of this disorder… I don’t really care if they disagree with any other aspect of it. My reality is different. That’s okay.

4. There is no original. I strongly believe the Theory of Structural Dissociation. Maybe science will prove it wrong with a more suitable theory to take its place in the future, but it’s what I roll with at the moment. Now, to us, this translates as “there is no original/we were all the original”. We’re Adventure Time fans, so we think of it like the “Mother Gum”. If all of the Mother Gum broke off into people (like PB & Neddy), no specific one of them would be “the original”. Rather, they’d all be repurposed parts of the original whole. (In a less serious way, we like to say “we all came from the primordial personality soup”.)

5. Our body is shared equally. We’ve decided our body has its own identity & “look” that helps represent us as a whole, but doesn’t take after one member specifically. In a gnawingly self-aware way, I know this is a further form of dissociation. But adopting this view changed a lot for us in a positive way. We don’t fight about hair or clothes anymore, we don’t have discomfort around our legal name, we don’t even really have struggles with gender/sexuality anymore. (We identify differently internally, but externally we identify as nonbinary & bisexual. Even if the person fronting at the moment is, for example, a gay man.)

6. Be open-minded to what happens internally. Seems straightforward enough, but we’ve wasted a lot of time trying to “make rules” for each other in the system. The biggest example I can think of is in-system dating. Around 10 years ago, as we became more aware of each other, it became clear that two system members were basically in love. We immediately became defensive. We told them that they couldn’t do that, that two system members being together was absurd & “impossible”. (This view became stronger after discovering online system spaces & “fakeclaimers” that come with it.) Though we regret it now, we shamed those two a lot in the hopes they’d drop it. They didn’t. About 3 years later it became an actual problem. They didn’t trust us; they were fronting & we were coming back to absolutely no memory of it (we usually have a vague idea at least). Eventually, they wrote us a whole thing about how they were going to be together & there was really nothing anyone could do about it, seeing as we couldn’t technically keep them apart. In modern day, we’ve had an in-system couple recently fuse. Upon reflection, we were standing in the way of genuine healing by trying to break up the first two, and we did so solely out of shame. As long as it isn’t genuinely causing harm, we try to be accepting of each other these days. This applies to a lot of other aspects; how system members appear internally, the pronouns and/or identity labels they choose, anything to do with how system members engage with each other, our differing individual perceptions of an event, etc.

7. We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to love each other. Mostly because, if we don’t, we’re holding hatred for ourself. There are certainly members of my system I would never choose to befriend if we were actually separate people, but we’re not, and we don’t get to act like we are. So even though it’s hard, I’m learning to love every piece that makes up “me”, no matter how difficult they try to make it at times.

8. Nobody’s system works like mine except for mine. Meaning, no two systems are going to be alike, and experiences aren’t often going to translate perfectly. This is true for people who aren’t systems as well— everyone’s experience is going to be different, because nobody is wired exactly the same way. Once I took that to heart, it became easier to focus on my own way of being. I could take the pieces of represented/online systemhood that resonate with me & leave the rest (which probably resonates with someone else).

9. There’s a reason for everything. This kind of ties back into the ‘we have to love each other’ thing. Each component of the system is a clue regarding how to move forward. We had someone in the system getting really uptight & controlling, to a point that it was irritating, but, taking a step back, we recognized it was a response to feeling a lack of control. Instead of simply getting angry at him for how he was acting, we were able to address the problem. My collective self is more laid-back for it.

10. It’s okay not to focus on it all. DID is a part of my life for the rest of it, whether I like it or not, but it’s nice to let it be a background thing every once in a while. Who’s fronting? Who cares. What roles do we have? I don’t know. Who’s this new person in my head? I’ll figure it out later. We’re making it through as a team, and sometimes that’s enough.

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 1

Title: Same coin, different faces

PAIRING: Bang Chan x Reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Despite not being together with Chan anymore, you somehow end up in the back of his car...fogging up the windows.

TAGS: pre-established breakup trope, swearing, a dash of angst but also a hint of resolve, mentions of alcohol (neither the reader nor Chan is drunk), a bit of manhandling by both parties, oral sex (reader receiving), car sex, unprotected, sort of hate/rough sex. 

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER LIST

(This is currently unedited but I will be proofing it later on)

It wasn’t as fun as you had hoped it to be, a party that is. Given it was the end of the semester, people usually prefer to go all out - which they did, but you weren’t feeling it. There were far too many people off of their faces, including your entire friend group that you showed up with.

Two of them were playing drinking games in the kitchen, one of them - Minho, who had completely disappeared for the past few hours, and another one who had found himself someone to hook up with. 

In the end, you were on your own for the remainder of the party. After having found a way into the lounge through the masses of people attending and remained on the couch, watching those around you for a while, you decided to get back up and grab a drink. There wasn’t an entire selection to choose from; either warm beer or cheap wine, which you grab from the latter and pour some in a plastic cup to try and fit in with everyone else. 

The briny taste of the wine was enough to make you think that maybe it was time to go home. It wasn’t fun, interesting, nor a good way to spend your time on a Friday night. Before being able to make the decision to leave, you find yourself planted on the ground when your eyes catch onto a familiar figure amongst the people. 

Chan. Your ex-boyfriend - your ex-best friend at that too. 

It was a surprise to see him given that he isn’t really a party goer, but also a surprise to see him in general after the pair of you went through such a tumultuous breakup a month ago. Things just didn’t work out the way they were supposed to which was unfortunate because Chan is one of a kind.

There isn’t anybody like him that exists in this world. He’s gentle, caring, and has a bottomless well of love to give. Now that you’re not together anymore, you know that whoever he ends up with in the future is well taken care of. 

“Hi,” Chan says, walking up to you. 

“Hey,” you respond back, unsure of how to actually talk to him now. “What are you doing here?” 

Chan sighs, looking at the screen of his phone momentarily then turning his attention back to you, “trying to find Minho. I’m here to pick him up, but I can’t find him. Is he here?”

“I haven’t seen him for the past couple of hours,” you answer. “I highly doubt he’s actually here still.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, “course he’s not.”

“He probably went to Jisung’s at some point,” you add.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he replies before his eyes peer down at the plastic cup. “Drinking? That’s not like you.” 

“It’s the end of the semester,” you say in your own defence. “I was trying to finish off strong.”

“Right. Have you got a ride home then?” 

Your eyes dart beyond Chan to ‘your ride home’ who has probably now consumed half of his body weight in alcohol. Chan catches your gaze, turns around and sees Seungmin throwing back another shot with a couple of strangers, presumably his classmates.

Chan sighs once more and faces you again, “don’t tell me he was supposed to sober drive.” 

“He won’t be now,” you respond. 

“Okay well, I can drop you off. Minho’s not replying and he’s probably not here, plus I’m getting tired,” he offers. 

You ponder for a moment. Since Chan had come up to you, you hadn’t felt that sting of pain that a breakup usually induces. Not since the day you both called it quits on the relationship. But that’s only because things were never awkward with him. It’s only until now that you realise how depleting life has been without him. It’s not colourful anymore. 

It’s an issue because you don’t want to be reminded of what you don’t have anymore. Sometimes, the best things can be the worst for us. 

“It’s okay, thank you though,” you decline respectfully. “I might tell the others to get ready to head off.” 

“And who’s going to drive them? You?” He asks with a brow raised then shakes his head with disapproval. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Not that much,” you retort. “I’m not even tipsy, plus I don’t want to leave them behind.”

“Seems like they left you behind,” Chan points out a very good point which you find hard to not be in denial about. 

He takes the plastic cup out of your hand and places it on the nearest surface cluttered with other discarded items. He then returns back to you to gently take hold of your wrist and leads you out of the lounge full of people. 

“Wait-”

“I’m not letting you drive under the influence, end of story,” he decides. 

With that matter in hand, you’re quickly reminded that Chan has always had a strong head on his shoulders and his morals are very clear cut. He held reasonably strong opinions on doing unnecessarily dangerous things, particularly when it comes to you. It happened to be one of the poisonous factors that pierced the final dagger into the relationship. 

The cold air then hits you when you both make it out into the front yard. 

“I can walk thank you,” you say to Chan who forgets that he’s still holding your wrist. He looks down at his hand and releases. 

“Sorry,” he apologises. “Car’s this way.”

He leads you once more just across the street to the vehicle while you think about the fact that you never actually agreed you were going to accept his offer to take you home. In saying that, there was no other alternative other than walking which Chan wouldn’t have put up with anyway. 

The pair of you hop in his car, finally able to catch a break from the blaring music that was blasting throughout the house. After both of your seatbelts are on, Chan starts the car and drives away down the street. 

It’s not long until silence falls quickly. Things had never been this terribly awkward between you both, but there had been pockets of quietness which used to be comfortable to sit in. Now you can see that it’s not as nice. 

“So what have you been up to these days?” Chan asks out of the blue, breaking that silence. 

“Nothing interesting I guess,” you answer blandly. “Just studies and that’s it.” 

He nods, “how’s that going so far?”

“Fine, I suppose.”

Chan lets out a small huff, “you know, it’s still okay for us to talk right? We don’t need to be so hostile.”

The glow of your phone from your lap catches your attention away from his comment. You blink down at the screen and read a text from Felix. 

Lix: ‘Saw you leave with Chan. Please tell me you’re both back on.’ 

You roll your eyes. You love Felix, but sometimes he can be too optimistic. There wasn’t any way you and Chan were going to find your way back to each other. If anything, it wouldn’t be the same anymore. 

“I wasn’t being hostile, plus there’s not much to my answer anyway unless you want me to lie?” You respond back.

“No, I don’t want you to lie,” Chan adjusts his tight grip on the steering wheel. “But you speaking just proves my point on why we shouldn’t act like that.” 

You turn your head, shooting him a well-deserved glare. This isn’t usually how Chan acts. He never says backhanded things as such even though he can be relatively blunt. Whatever subtle malice was behind his words obviously came from the same place that helped the relationship tear apart. 

“This is why we never worked out because you always had to have some degree of control,” you scoff, ignoring the fact that you’ve now doused the flicker of the argument with petrol.

“I was only doing what I though was safest for you,” Chan argues back strongly. “It was never about having any type of control, it was because you couldn’t see what the consequences were.” 

“Then why couldn’t you have let me figure it out for myself? How else am I supposed to learn, when you’re not here anymore?” 

“You, driving drunk isn’t something that you just learn not to do. You don’t do it, full stop. Anyone with common sense knows that,” Chan bites back. 

“I’m not even talking about that! When have I ever driven drunk? Now you’re just fucking reaching for things! All I’m saying is that it didn’t matter how much time I spent with you, I never got to be my own person. It was like I was turning into another ‘you’.”

Chan shrugs, “in comparison to what you can be like sometimes, I honestly don’t think that’s so much of a bad thing.” 

The last nerve inside you, had been struck.

“Stop the car, I’m getting out.” 

“No, we’re nearly at your h-”

“I don’t care Chris, I seriously don’t want to be anywhere near you right now,” you cut him off sharply, not wanting to hear another word come out of his mouth. 

Chan looks over at you, absorbing how painfully angry you look right now and the fact that your hand is on the door handle, ready to bolt as soon as he pulls over. It was fairly obvious because once he did, you were out of the vehicle before he could say anything more. But as fast as you are out the door, Chan is already on the other side to meet you. 

“Don’t go home angry,” he says urgently. 

You shoot him a dirty look, thinking who the hell is he to tell you what to do, “or what?”

“Well can we at least talk then?” He questions, trying to grasp onto some common ground here. 

With as much force as you can muster, your arms come up to shove Chan by the chest, “fuck you.”

He stumbles back a few steps and is not as nearly as surprised as you are by your own behaviour. Never has anyone elicited as much of a reaction from you until now. The shock has you to the point where you can barely assemble an apology to Chan. Even so when he comes back forward, grabbing you by the sides of your arms, and shoving you right back against his own car. 

Before either of you say another word, his mouth crashes straight against yours. His swift hands are quickly groping and roaming in every place around your body that he can reach while you submit to his moves. You’ve forgotten how electrifying Chan can be at times when it comes to intimacy, that you really start to feel it when he slides his knee in between your thighs. 

You gasp against his lips, yelping almost when his hands reach behind you to squeeze your ass and to try to bring your body as impossibly close to his as he can. For a split second, you break away to consolidate what is happening. Chan remains latched onto you, his mouth now working its way to your jaw and down to your throat, sucking and biting into your skin. 

Neither of you care about whether or not he’s going to mark you up. All you care about at this point in time, is the hope that he’s going to fuck you. 

“The door…open the door,” you mumble to him, even though you’re trying to find the handle yourself. 

Even with the unshakeable frame of mind that he’s in right now, Chan listens to you. He pulls you forward with him so that he can yank the backdoor open. You hop onto the seat, pushing yourself backwards to the other side of the car to create room for him to join you. But Chan had his own idea planted already. 

He grabs you by the ankles and pulls you right back to the edge of the seat closest to him. His hands take pride in reaching underneath your skirt and tearing your underwear down your legs. 

He doesn’t even get the opportunity to fully take them off as they dangle on one leg. In saying that, it doesn’t take you very long to click onto what he wants to do. So you help him by doing your best to hike your skirt further up your thighs. Chan decides to take a few seconds to appreciate being able to relive this moment once more by using his thumb to swipe over your wet slit, collecting your juices only to bring it up to his mouth and suck it right off. 

“Fucking missed this,” he speaks for the first time in about five minutes before lifting both of your legs and separating them for his head to slot in perfectly between. 

The fan of his hot breath washes over your skin, already making your squirm forward towards his mouth. It’s been a long time since someone had touched you and Chan could tell. He knows how needy you can be, but not when you’re like this. Not when you’re straining to reach for the back of his head to pull him closer to your pussy. Not when you’re already moaning when he’s barely touched you.

Not when you’re wetter than what he usually thinks you are.

“Y-Yes…right there,” you sigh out and lie back down, waiting eagerly. 

One of your hands threads through his dark hair and tugs every time he sucks on your clit. Shivers of pleasure reverberate throughout your body, already making your legs tremble on his shoulders. If anyone were to drive past, you know you and Chan would get done for public indecency. Except that devious consequence became an elicit far away thought drowned out by your own moans the more Chan continued to eat you out. 

The best thing about it is that he’s not going easy on you. He’s being deceptively rough by digging his nails into your thighs and showing zero remorse when he relentlessly licks over that same sweet spot. The more work he puts into trying to make you cum, the harder he gets in his pants, straining at this point.

“P-Please Chan, hurry,” you cry out, trying to sit up and slide down further into his mouth. “Need to cum, please.”

When your begging and moaning become increasingly louder and more frequent, Chan knows you’re on the cusp of an orgasm. However, as much as he used to enjoy you cumming on his face, the idea of you cumming on his cock is just as good, if not better. So just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Chan pulls back. 

You blink in amongst the haziness of what was about to be a mind shattering orgasm to see Chan who’s head had lifted up from in between your legs. His mouth and chin were covered in your juices, and is completely unashamed about it. 

“You can just fucking wait,” he snaps and begins to adjust your legs so that he makes sure they cage his body at his sides, that way he can grab onto your thighs and fuck you hard and steady. 

Although you can barely see, you hear the zipper to his pants open before he takes out his cock, hard and ready to put it to use on you. You bite down on your bottom lip when Chan uses his tip to tease your entrance. He pushes his hips forward, enough to make his cock slide up and in between your pussy. 

Chan’s shaky hand manages to get a proper hold around his dick, aligning it with your wet hole, and slowly pushes in as the heat begins to encapsulate around his length. The top half of his body nearly falters forward if it weren’t for his hips that thrust forward first. 

“Chris…” you mutter in an aspirated voice, feeling the fullness of his cock stretch you out.  

There is no forewarning for the strength he has behind each buck of his hips. It takes you back to times before during your relationship and how deliciously memorable the sex always was. Chan’s main priority was to always make you cum first and regardless of his own needs and pleasure. Whether you misbehaved or were being an outright undeserving brat in bed, even then he would still let you cum. That’s how much he loved you. 

“Nobody can ever fuck you the way I do,” Chan grits his teeth, his eyes watching his cock disappear inside of you each time he rams forward, hard and fast. 

Every second that goes by, you’re grappling more and more onto your last threads of sanity. It’s hard to keep up and absorb Chris’s stamina and pace - a relentless and unapologetic pace that hits the same spot inside you over and over again until that build up of pleasure starts spreading around your lower abdomen. 

“Make me feel…so good,” you mumble incoherently. “Gonna make me cum.” 

It’s been a long time since Chan has heard you say those words - hell, even heard you moan at the very least. It’s enough to keep his pace steady but he’s very wary of the fact that he himself is already near the edge of an orgasm too. Nonetheless, he’s determined to get you there first once more. 

So Chan lets go of one of your legs at his side so that he can use his thumb to now rub fast circles over your clit. Your hands grip at the hem of your skirt, back arching as you start submitting to the crest of intense pleasure Chan has built up for you. Then within seconds, Chan has you cumming hard around his cock, shuddering, and straining his name out of your mouth as it rings throughout his car. 

“Fuck, baby…” he groans as his head tips back before he starts spilling white inside of you. 

His hips stutter finally, gently slowing down to a leisurely pace while he drowns in the afterglow from one of the most transcendent orgasms he’s ever had. He gives you both time to come down before he carefully slides out of you. It takes you a while to fully fathom what just happened, but you allow yourself to think about it. Whatever it is, it’s not regret. There’s a longing feeling there, a borderline sense of relief. 

Once Chan is decent, he helps you slide your underwear back on even though you’re both fully aware of the fact that he just came inside you. It’s not like either of you were prepared for this to happen. In saying that, Chan gently takes hold of both your hands and gets you to sit up.

“You okay?” he questions, using his finger to hook some of your messed hair out of your face. 

You nod, “yes. You?” 

“I’ve been worse,” he answers, making you smile. “I’m really sorry for what I said earlier.” 

You shake your head, “I’m sorry as well for being so stubborn. I figured that the more hostile I am towards you, the more I push myself away so that I don’t have to deal with any feelings from before.” 

Chan completely gets it, “I know. I thought I could do the same, but it seems that I’m too nice.”

You roll your eyes, “you’ve had your moments.” 

“I definitely have,” he replies. “Anyway, we should go in case anybody just saw that.” 

A bashful sense of embarrassment washes over you. It’s been minutes before you realised that you just fucked your ex. But even so, it doesn’t really feel that way. It’s just Chan, someone who you still have a lot of love for. 

“You can stay at mine, it’s late,” you suggest to him. 

Chan smiles softly, “as if I’m going to say no.”

-

A/N: Yes, I am a day late already to Kinktober - I just realised bc my dumb ass was trying to figure out time zones and when would be the best time to upload for people bc I’m quite some hours ahead from other countries. So I’ll just stick to my time zone, that way you’ll get my works a few hours earlier x

KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzetmv @luneskies 🩷🩷

[tanuki-kimono]

I just found your blog and I am absolutely enamored by all these designs! I did have a quick question though

I'd love to one day visit Japan, and I love the idea of attending a festival in a rented yukata. However, I'm concerned about if I could wear one or not due to the sleeves. I'm disabled and get around using forearm crutches, and have difficulty fitting larger sleeves in them.

I guess I was just curious about if either the sleeves could easily be pulled back to my elbows, or if maybe there are yukata with shorter sleeves (I've never seen them myself at least.)

Hi! I am so happy you fell in love with kimono fashion <3

As for your question, there is a fantastic way to accomodate your crutches: tasuki 襷 sleeves holders. Those are cord used for holding up sleeves out of the way (when doing chores, physical/messy activity, etc).

You can see below how tasuki are tied: basically think of an ∞ with the crossing on your back and the loop up front gathering up sleeves on your sides:

Depending on your mobility, you can pre-knot the cord beforehand then slip it around your body.

The "right" way of doing it is this one:

Though to be honest, most people do like this and call it a day xD:

I am not sure how your mobility is so I'll also add other options to mix and match in order to nicely enjoy summer festivals in kimono attire:

Happi 法被 (festival coat): if you don't feel confortable strolling all day/night in yukata (the tighness of around your legs might be cumbersome), wearing a coat like those over your "normal" clothes is a good option to still be in festival mood :) Some are sleeveless, some have tube sleeves, and if not pair them with tasuki sleeves holder and you'll be good to go!

(pic below from)

Nibushiki kimono 二部式着物 / nibushiki yukata 二部式浴衣 (two parts kimono/yukata): exactly what it says on the lid, those are kimono/yukata tailored in two parts, a skirt and a top one. Those might be harder to find in rentals, but have the convenience of being super easy to put on while being less prone to unraveling :) The two parts are also gentler on the figure as you can more easily adapt tighness etc. If you're are able to shop for a yukata beforehand, altering is pretty easy: chop in two, add ties and you're ready to get dressed ;)

Tsuke obi 作り帯 (two parts belt): in the same spirit as above, those are pre-tied obi belt, with a wrap-around part and a knot part. They are super common for children, but also exist for adult. Altering a pre owned obi is also super easy, see for example this past note (for nagoya obi styled taiko knot).

Yukata can be worn with hanhaba obi (half width belt), heko obi (soft belt), or kaku obi ("men" belt). Heko obi would be my recommendation as those are unisex, comfortable, and suuuuper easy to tie.

If you want to try hanhaba or kaku, I'd advise for karuta musubi, a flat, sturdy, and unisex knot pretty easy to tie.

Hope your travel project will come true and that you'll have fun :D

[shifting-mariana]

why I’m starting to shift for longer time periods + shifting motivation

So, this is my first longer post. But it’s something I think may help many and yes I use some 2020 shift but not like the way they said it. But for this post I’ll be sharing my method for anyone who wants to use it but keep in mind it may not work for everyone!

MY SHIFTING METHOD:

I meditate or visual my dr with my favorite artist (ichiko aoba<3) and think about what I’ll do in my dr then I’ll get up and do whatever I feel like until I get tired.

2. Drink water. Ik 2020 shifting but!!!! They weren’t wrong but they weren’t right either bc when I get close to shifting it drains me a lot because I feel stronger than others an example of this is while you may feel like your lover is touching your arm faintly I can feel feel embraces even if it’s just day dreaming or i JUST started my method.

3. I have subliminals playing softly in the background of anything I’m doing so my subconscious can keep that motivation flowing..yk?

4. I go back to sleep and repeat “I will not end up in this reality I only have two choices (my dr and a different reality similar to here)” but I’ll say that until I feel like very very calm then I start counting my finger until I feel numb. Kinda like a comfort thing I do in my drs with any of my s/o’s whenever I freak out about something.

5. I let my mind roam until I’m stuck on that dr and I feel light weight and it feels like I’m just floating in nothing. When I shift I don’t usually feel it which is why I realize I shifted many times I just shifted back before I realized. So I always keep in my mind that when I get there this is gonna happen or that.

but every time I shift I focus on staying for a longer time (which is probably why I don’t post as much but I usually don’t anyways so it seems normal and when I ’got back’ nothing felt different) so I can get used to being in my dr and switching to different drs without coming back to this energy/vibration level that I’m on now.

me personally I keep my birthstone and my favorite crystals that have meaning to me around me when I attempt because it gives me a sense of relief and I’m not stressing about “do this step right now or u won’t shift “ it doesn’t matter..do the method upside down side ways, while doing splits idk but don’t let it stress you out bc if your stuck on what happening on this vibration frequency then you can’t get to your dr’s frequency.

Be patient with yourself. You know yourself better than anyone. You know what method may work for you better than the premade ones that worked for certain people. They are NOT you .. you’re not them and they’re not you. So what I do may work for you and it may not work for someone else. But don’t lose hope in getting to your dr for the first time or again if you’ve done it.

Don’t force away any intrusive thoughts. Ignore them and let them roam in your mind until they go away as you reach the frequency for you dr. We are all different in our own way so you may not feel or see those bright colorful lights like every one else but you are capable. WE are capable. We shifter have the power to see every timeline, story, show, movie, book, etc. But unlike those who imagine it.. We HAVE the chance to live it and giving that up because of doubts when you have the entire universe in your hands and the other shifter’s out there. We can see deceased family again. Are they gonna be exactly as you remember? Maybe not but the chance is there and to see someone I care about again is something I’m sure most people would want.

I made this post originally to say I am shifting longer and longer each time to prepare my self for my perma shift on June 1st. And even if I don’t shift that day (but I will) you have the chance to do it even before then and so do I so don’t let doubt or fear keep you from going somewhere some didn’t even know existed until a fucking AI told them. If they don’t believe YOU prove it to yourself so you will never feel as if you were lied to because yes shifting is real and it may be the best thing that ever happened to me or you. You have the tool to shift and that’s just you. be you. Embrace you. You got this!

No matter if u believe in the multiverse theory, frequencies, or whatever you still have the power and ability to shift so use it. See that best friend. See that bf/gf. See that one character that practically saved your life. See your comfort character without a screen.

you can and will shift and even if it’s 7 years from now, don’t stop trying even if it’s long breaks from it. Which is very helpful to regain your energy after shifting. But besides that I hope you shift and if it’s tonight or months or years from now you still have a time and it WILL come.

— shifting Mariana 2025.

[noxiatoxia]

I don't know if this is common knowledge, but Komaeda's talent in Japanese is not "Ultimate Lucky Student". It is "Ultimate Good Fortune" (or good luck).

I know the word "lucky" has connotations with being good luck, but "luck" itself seems neutral to me at least.

I think the fact Komaeda is praised for, and has his talent be centered on, his good fortune is a very important nuance. People only see the good that happens to him. People keep telling him what happens to him is "good luck". His parents dying and getting kidnapped end up being called "good luck" in the end. I think this reinforces his pattern of thought more than people just saying he has extraordinary luck (good and bad). It's a minor difference, but it adds a lot. I have been thinking about this for a little bit now.

Because of the fact it is good luck specifically, I wanted to find parts where Komaeda specifically talks about bad luck. Lines such as "my awful luck/dreadful luck..." doesn't make much sense in the context of his Japanese talent. It made me wonder if those English lines even existed or if it was a "Luke, I am your father" situation. I don't have either the English or Japanese script memorized.

I checked the Freetime Events because of this, and found an interesting thing. There's a number of mistranslations, or simply translation choices I don't really agree with.

The freetime events heavily misrepresent how often Komaeda uses the word "luck". He uses both 不幸 and 不運 an equal amount I'd say. Maybe the former more. The former means "misery" "sorrow" or "misfortune". The latter means "bad luck" or "ill-fortune".

Likewise, 幸運 means good luck, but it also means good fortune. It's the word used in his talent as I described above.

Now, that's not to say I think Komaeda's "talent" should not be referred to as luck, nor am I saying he should never use the word luck. I think good and bad luck is a perfectly apt English word to describe his experiences. I just think the English translation overuses it. It wouldn't have killed them to make him say "isn't that just awful" or "what a tragedy, right?" instead of "isn't that such bad luck?" every conceivable moment. Maybe I'm just nit picky.

Now, onto the free time events. I want to talk about them.

I'll be talking about them in order as they appear. Also, I am only going to talk about the 3rd event onward, after Komaeda's chapter 1 reveal.

Freetime event 3

A minor nitpick, but "friends" is not the word I'd use here. It's true you can translate it that way, but considering everything else about Komaeda, at this point in the game, he wouldn't readily call Hinata his friend. Especially considering the connotations that holds for him.

That's precisely likely why he, in fact, doesn't say "friend" in the Japanese text. He uses 仲間 which like I said, while can and does translate as friend when used in that way, it just means people of a common thread. Like, a group, I guess.

My TL:

Because we both share the common goal of seeking out hope!

Freetime event 4

This is a really bad translation IMO. Hope is never said once in the original dialogue. I don't know why they put it there.

My TL:

Hinata: It's pretty ironic that you got wrapped up in this shitshow considering your "Ultimate Good Luck". Komaeda: It's not ironic at all! This is no doubt just the beginning of the good things to come my way! Komaeda: Um, let's just say the "good luck" I was born with is a little less straightforward [than the name would suggest]... Komaeda: once this is all over, I'll be rewarded with good fortune of the highest caliber.

And though this next one isn't much of a "mistranslation", I want to offer an alternative translation that highlights my criticism of "overusing the words good/bad luck".

My TL:

Komaeda: The greater the misfortune I experience before hand...the greater the good that comes my way afterwards! It completely cancels out everything before it!

Freetime event 5

I sadly cannot find in-game pictures of this since it's one of the wrong dialogue choices, so here's the script file text for it instead (sorry)

I remembered this line in English specifically because I always thought it sounded weird for Komaeda to say - "It's rare to hear you give such a half-assed answer".

While not a mistranslation totally, I think the tone is a bit off.

I would write it more as, "Ah ha ha! That's quite the answer, Hinata-kun!"

It literally translates as "for Hinata-kun, that is a very suitable answer!" but it's clearly supposed to be teasing/sarcastic. So he means to say "oh, wow, Hinata-kun, you're answering with that?" but in a lighthearted tone.

Freetime event 6

Almost didn't include this because it's the mistranslation we all know and hate, but it's worth mentioning in case people don't know.

My TL:

Please, just one last thing...don't ever forget...that from the bottom of my heart, I love y...I love your hope that sleep dormant inside you.

Though he does just say "please, don't forget", he uses どうか which is a pretty polite turn of phrase for Komaeda. It also is a way to emphasize a request, as in please do this to the benefit of me.

He backtracks pretty heavily. The verb comes at the end in Japanese sentences, so giving an exact one-to-one would be hard, but I'll try to explain it.

ボクはキミを... キミの中に眠る希望を心から愛していると。

Boku wa Kimi wo... Kimi no naka ni nemuru kibou wo koko kara aishiteiru to.

の/no = possessive. Such as, "Lucy's cat" "David's car".

を/wo = verb particle. There's no real English equivalent but you use it to signify some verb is being done onto something. Such as, "I kicked the ball" ("ball wo kick") or "I pet the cat" ("cat wo pet").

は/wa = topic particle. Commonly translates as "is/am" but that is NOT what it means. It just signifies everything that comes after it relates back to what comes before it. It's most accurate to think it as "as for the topic of..." Such as, "my damaged car wa had to go into the repair shop." After wa, "had to go into the repair shop", you ask, "what had to go into the repair shop?" you can find the answer in the topic, which is before wa: my damaged car. (or... me no damaged car.)

So, with this knowledge, let's break down the sentence.

Boku = I/me.

Kimi = you.

So this would make Boku wa Kimi wo in it's most literal form: as for the topic of me (aka, speaking for me), I, onto you...

Then he trails off. wo becomes no.

I, onto your hope sleeping inside of you...

and then we return to wo:

from the bottom of (one's) heart, love [the hope sleeping inside of you].

One could easily see it as Komaeda quickly changing the wo to no to add extra steps to not make the confession so head-on. Because if we remove everything after no and just continue where the wo leaves off, we get:

Boku wa Kimi wo koko kara aishiteiru to.

As for me, I, from the bottom of my heart, love you.

Now...one could also read it as him not backtracking, but adding. Saying I love you and the hope that lies dormant within you. Both are equally plausible. Listening to the audio it can go either way, but the way he quickly and softly drops off when he gets to the first wo makes me feel like it's a backtrack. Or maybe the background music is just too loud haha.

Well, that's all I got for now.

[xesiarah]

“˚₊‧ UNLUCKY ENCOUNTER ‧₊˚ ”

Yan!Loser oc x Reader

Synopsis — some call it a coincidence, some say it's fate, but I say it's absolute utter fucking, bullshit.

—

—

"I'm sorry."

The other line hangs up, the irrational telephone beep ringing against your ear as you genuinely start feeling the symptoms of hysteria bubbling up your chest and clamming up your breathing. At this point you definitely wouldn't say no to a fucking lobotomy.

This week has been feeling like the universe is actively trying to kill you off, like as if already getting coffee spilled on you wasn't bad enough; You, in this modern age and time having to use the telephone because your phone was snatched, along with your favorite handbag, containing the newly expensive perfume you brought still half full, and then just now your partner of 2 years breaks up with you after you asked them for help because you tripped on a rock, resulting on a sprained ankle and having to distressingly limp all the way to the phone booth.

Coincidence? Yeah, I think not. Just before this hell week was 3 days after your best friend ditched you for her new boyfriend, 4 days after you fucked up an important exam, and A WEEK after you befriended that jackass freak at school. Losing a few people here and there was to be expected but, c'mon! Isn't this just a new form of torture? You're sure that he was the one that caused all this, who else is to blame!? Maybe the rumor that said he must have all that hair to hide the dent he got when he was dropped as a baby was true, I mean. He probably performed some dark sorcery on you for whatever reason.. or maybe he's a sick masochist that fucks over people who don't treat him like an accused witch during the Salem Witch Trials. — Seriously, it was as if the universe's will to make that mfs life a living hell has rubbed off on you. But you know what, yeah.. It's fine, you can live with this.

Or not. Your alarm blaring for you to awaken gladly disturbs your nightmarish slumber, this is the 3rd time. The THIRD TIME! You've dreamt about him. — of that freak that brought you to your misery, who knows, what if dreaming about him more then once was some sort of bad omen? The 3rd time being on the first day of the week nonetheless. Of course the birds are extra chirper, you thought that maybe they're basking on your torment, if they were, you hope stray bullets manages to shoot all of them dead because we aren't having that kind of bullshit today. — You have finally devised a plan to avoid Satan's reincarnate for the rest of the school year as if they were carrying a covid variant. Finally getting that horrendous goblin off your back would feel like it's the second coming of Christ, and you're not about to let any twinks get in the way of living your life free from any agony inducing minger either.

You manage to find the will to exist. Entering the gates of your school muttering prayers to God, and whatever other deity that’s listening, to please not let you set sights of his probably-smells-like-cheese, greasy ass hair, the overgrown bangs covering ⅔ of his hazel eyes that always seemed to bother you, he even has those weird Incel glasses on.. maybe that one rumor that said he had some sort of eye fungus just makes this all more oddly debatable. You wander through the empty hallways, not seeing a single student kinda unsettles you. — makes sense though, It's pretty early, and you've never seen him around this time so, the coast is clear, for now, or so you thought. — You were approaching the rows of vending machines all pushed up against the back of the building when you caught a glimpse of a silhouette you're all too familiar with, he seems to be sketching something, not that you totally cared for whatever it was. You shrug, but when you were about to turn to leave he gets up and walks towards the boys bathroom, leaving his precious notebook unattended, out in the open, where anyone could take a peak... Just a little peak, alright? You tiptoed, walking towards it in longer strides to minimize your footsteps, upon getting closer, you notice the front page already wide open, as if he purposely left it like that, — that should've been the first red flag. Because inspecting it a little further made your jaw slack, the thing he was sketching.. was you. "What the fuck, I look amazing." You mutter, it's a little creepy but you're flattered with the way he straight up beautified you, admiring it for a little longer then you should've had was a mistake though, because just when you took your eyes off of the notebook, you see him literally lurking and hiding behind the bathroom's entrance. He's wide-eyed, and a huge creepy grin plastered on his face. — Genuinely scaring the flattery out of you and making you bolt straight to the opposite direction on instinct, the way he looked at you literally triggered your flight or fight. The sound of your fast footsteps filled the hallways, your heart going pitter-patter, quite literally about to burst out your chest. Fuck. Just your luck. Guess this won't be an easy day to get through.

Morning lectures are finally over. Which means you can finally celebrate the fact that you pushed through and made it to lunchtime! It was still agonizing nonetheless, waiting around corners to let him pass kind of felt like you're stalking him, can't say that you didn't get any weird looks either. The worse part was definitely him searching and skimming through the halls, asking everyone for your whereabouts, half of them made themselves look busy so he wouldn't approach them, and the other half straight up ran the opposite direction as if he threatened to bite their toes or something. Weirdly enough, most of them ended up slipping on wet floor, which just further gives in to your suspicion of him practicing dark sorcery. Anyways, you're proud of the little progress you made, and that's all that matters for now.

—

—

Lucian sits alone, his table is tucked away in the very corners of the cafeteria, no one even daring to glance at his direction, he used to typically eat in the bathrooms but nobody wants him in their presence to the point that they all stand up and leave when he approaches a table. — there's just this weird air surrounding the dude that automatically repels people away, and no it's not body oder dammit! He just gets greasy fast, and probably for threatening to unalive a teacher but that isn't important! The love of his life is avoiding him! He chews on his fingernails as he ponders, possible reasons fill his head, and they aren't very good ones. — Did someone make you do this? Is there someone else...? That surely can't be. That's just cheating isn't it? You love him after all! He saw the glint in your eyes when you looked at the portrait he drew of you. He could even show you his shrine! Made just for you, containing such precious things you lost! — His excessive chewing of his fingernails grow desperate to the point of drawing blood, he grimaces at the sight of crimson streaks, wiping it on the sleeves of his hoodie. — it just can't be. Why would you do him wrongly like this? You smiled at him, you laughed with him instead of AT him, you sat together.. So why!? Are you gonna leave him like his mother did..? Was that all a joke to you..? He just couldn't accept this, you aren't that kind of person! You know what, he finally snaps. he just has to hear an answer from you. — "He's right behind me, isn't he?" The person right Infront of you nods, and immediately scurries away. At this point you're frozen in place, what the fuck do you do? Just make a run for it? "Can we please talk..?" He speaks behind you, his hand is on your shoulder. You swallow, the remaining bits of your conscience crumbling as you fucking make a run for it, aggressive footsteps follow behind and you realize HE'S CHASING AFTER YOU. You have never let out such a gut wrenching scream than what you just did in this exact moment. — You hide behind a wall, thinking you've lost him. Not until a hand grabs onto your arm.

—

—

He caught you. He has you pinned against the wall, not in a shoujo cutsy romantic way, he looks as if he's a starved vampire about to chomp on your neck, and not in a good way. Just no fucking way this scrawny mf outran you. Another 'unfortunately' for you too, the Gods did not answer your prayers. You're trapped in between the arms of the man you swore to avoid like the plague for the rest of the school year, this was definitely not on your 2024 bingo list. You didn't even last till' the end of the day and that lowkey hurts your pride. — But holy smokes, they say that you experience something new everyday, and this is the first time you've seen him up close, messy bedroom hair, teary eyes that looked like he hasn't slept since the first star wars movie came out. Wowza. If he actually made an effort, or if he didn't have such unsettling vibes, you can't lie, he'd be a revelation hottie. — ... Shit. Not the time to be thinking about his potential glow up. — Poor guy, watching him trying to maintain eye contact but just failing horribly is kinda cute.

......

......

......

The fuck? Your face scrunches up just after you snap back out of, whatever that was. Seriously.. say WHAT now? That was a demon possession right there, you need to stop acting as if his existence didn't just cause your downfall unprovoked. "You're avoiding me.." His voice disrupts the silent war you were having with yourself. It sounded meek, he genuinely looked like a shivering wet dog, with those.. tears boiling up his eyes, and.. quivering lips. Fuck. What if you'd just slide down his arms and escape? Hell no, if someone walked in they'd think you were giving him a blowjob and that's honestly worse then whatever's going on right now. "A-Answer me!" He yells(?) hesitantly, the dude genuinely looks like he's about to burst into tears any minute, you're surprised how he somehow grew the balls to yell at you though. "Okay, dude I'm sorry..?" — It's sad how he goes ballistic over a 'friendship' that lasted a week, but he did show you the list of student names he wanted to glock, and you listened to some of his nerdy ramblings, so you guess he did cherish your short time together even if you gave him absolutely zero fucks. — he goes completely quiet for a minute before he finally bursts out crying, fat tears are running through his acne filled face as he drops to the ground. "I really just wanted a someone-" He says in-between hiccups, he's crying as if you killed his mom or something. You decided to just wait it out until he grew tired but his wails started growing louder till' you were forced to crouch down and comfort him. "H-hey, uhm.." Fuck. Screw it. You know what, Who cares if your life starts crashing down, it already was unsalvageable from the very beginning anyway. Everyone needs a friend and you're too nice for this. You finally give in, breathing in a sigh of defeat. "How can I fix this?" His cries shimmer down and you swear to fucking God you think you just saw him flash a smirk. This bitch looks like he's bout to spit out the most outta pocket bullshit. — and he indeed did not disappoint. The two unexpected words coming out of his mouth just further inspires you to jump off a bridge. "d-date.. me."

......

......

......

Maybe hiring a hitman on yourself wouldn't be so bad.

[i-heart-hxh]

does ikalgo have deeper significance to killua's character? i get that hes like a new friend for killua but why does it feel like he was portrayed so importantly to killua's character during caa? its like theres a deeper meaning, why did killua go out his way just to save ikalgo from those two chimera ants when they entered the building? and why did he look so hesitant? he had thoughts that said "what am i doing..? why the hell am i going the opposite direction?" or something like that. idk it just feels like togashi was implying something abt killua there but i cant figure out what that is. do u have an idea?

Hello! This is a great question!

Ikalgo's friendship with Killua is vital both to Killua's development and also to Chimera Ant arc as a whole! I can explain that significance.

Throughout much of the series, Killua tags along with Gon and primarily focuses on him. He befriends other people, certainly, but he generally does this through Gon--it's not like he's going out of his way to make these friends on his own.

In Chimera Ant Arc, the connection between Gon and Killua gets somewhat disrupted by the events that happen, and Gon's focus shifts primarily to saving Kite and his revenge on Pitou, leaving Killua to worry and feel somewhat left behind and helpless (partly as a result of the the Palm situation as well).

When Killua splits off from Gon to try and save civilians, he meets and a battles an enemy at the time, Ikalgo.

During their fight, Killua gives Ikalgo a choice: Either sell out his friends by revealing their nen powers, or die. Ikalgo chooses to die rather than betraying his friends, and Killua is able to relate to this loyalty. He spare's Ikalgo's life and tells Ikalgo that if they'd met another way, maybe they could have been friends.

Killua's kindness in empathizing with Ikalgo and sparing him is the only thing that saves his life later when he's bleeding out from the needlefish darts. Had Killua not extended that mercy and said those kind words to Ikalgo, Ikalgo would not have saved him, and he would have died.

It's interesting/neat how the scene right after Ikalgo saving Killua from the needlefish involves Gon having his own encounter with another friendly Chimera Ant, and the tone of their conversation is quite a bit different:

Contrast is so important in Chimera Ant Arc!

Anyway, when Killua shows Ikalgo mercy, makes it clear that they're friends now, and invites him to come along and be part of the human side of the war, he essentially becomes to Ikalgo what Gon has been to him: Someone who represents light, and who represents a path forward to a better life. In this arc, Killua worries that he doesn't deserve a place at Gon's side, but at the same time here he extends the same kind of light and hope that Gon gave him to someone else.

As for the scene where Killua breaks off away from Gon in the Palace Invasion in order to protect Ikalgo, this continues to show Killua's world expanding outside of Gon. Notice how in this page, it clearly shows Killua leaving Gon behind--they have their backs to each other, which is a frequent image in this arc. His mission was to protect Gon and make sure Gon could complete his revenge against Pitou, so deviating from that mission is both shocking to him, and potentially dangerous, but it shows that he's starting to protect and care for others as well as Gon.

Now, I want to be clear that I see this as a positive step for Killua. At this point in the series, Killua had made Gon his entire reason for living, essentially, and him going outside of that and making other friends and protecting and caring about them is a vital step for his character. It's showing that he's becoming a more expansive, mature person who can care for multiple people (or ants) at once rather than centering his entire existence and sense of self around one person. He made this action as quickly and efficiently as possible so he could get back to Gon's side, but he did go out of his way and leave Gon behind momentarily, and even he is surprised by this.

And while obviously I adore his nearly single-minded love and devotion for Gon, with what happens between them in this arc he needs to have others in his life besides Gon, and it's part of his transition into also being the light for Alluka and Nanika. It's a result of Killua's own innate kindness and empathy and the choice he made to leave his previous life behind, but also, he was able to reach this point partly because Gon showed him the love and encouragement he needed to become the person he is.

Now, as for Ikalgo's role in the arc as a whole: He's part of a chain of kindness and mercy that ends up changing the entire outcome of the Chimera Ant arc. This post puts it incredibly well. The chain of kindness started at the beginning of the series, with Gon befriending and rescuing Killua in spite of his background, which then eventually leads to Killua sparing Ikalgo (who then saves Killua right back), and then Ikalgo sparing Welfin, and then Welfin giving Meruem Komugi's name so that they got to be together in the end. Ikalgo shows the consequences of Killua's kindness, which are also the consequences of Gon's kindness, in part.

A major theme of the series and of Chimera Ant arc is that love and kindness are transformative, and Ikalgo has such an important role in demonstrating that theme.

[a-dragons-journal]

i don’t think my words hold much value to people like you, and i don’t think you would be willing to listen or take it to heart, but it’s still worth trying. i would like you to realise that you are human in every way. you are not an animal, you are not a dragon. (you probably already know this. maybe you’re in denial. i don’t know) either way, none of you would actually be willing to give it even a second of thought because you’re insecure about yourself, and you’re insecure because you know you’re human. i assure you that you will not reach full personal contentment until you live out your life without pretending to be a mythical creature. wtv have a good day

Ooh, I haven’t gotten one of these asks in a few years.

So I ask this, and every other question I will follow up with, completely genuinely, and if you’re willing to really get into the weeds discussing it I’d love to do so (though I’ll probably reblog any follow-ups to my other blog): why do you think you know me and my experiences better than I do?

Why do you think you can armchair diagnose me with insecurity? What evidence do you actually have for that, besides the fact that I’m nonhuman? What evidence do you have that I’m not already content and fulfilled in my life?

Is it possible that identifying as nonhuman is unrelated to those things entirely, and you’re making a false assumption?

I get it. It looks crazy, when you’re completely new to the concept. It’s weird - it is! But pause and listen to us when we talk about our experiences for a moment.

For many of us, myself included, finding nonhumanity is a moment of suddenly understanding - of pieces falling into place, of my life experiences suddenly making sense. Awakening is something that made me more content and fulfilled, not less - there’s a sadness in it sometimes, yes, but so too is there the comfort of understanding yourself in a new way, of realizing, oh. I’m not just weird. There’s not something wrong with me. There are other people like me.

(If this sounds a lot like the experience of figuring out you’re queer, there’s a reason for that.)

To use myself as an example of the flaws in your hypothesis: there’s… honestly not much dissatisfaction with my life right now. I’ve got a stable job with decent income. I’d like to be able to cut back my hours a bit, but that will come in time. I’ve got enough free time as it is to do my art and play my tabletop games with friends in my off time. I’ve got family and friends around me. Sure, I miss my wings, but I’m hoping to pick up powered paragliding in the near future and hoping that’ll scratch that itch at least somewhat. I’m doing pretty well, honestly. This isn’t the case for all otherkin, but it’s not the case for all orthohumans (people who aren’t alterhuman in any way) either. What it does indicate, however, is that your hypothesis that being otherkin inherently means you’re insecure and unhappy with your life is false, or at minimum flawed - if it were true, I wouldn’t exist.

So, I ask again: why do you think you understand my own experiences better than I do? And moreover, why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?

The name for the thing you’re doing here, intentionally or not, is concern trolling - trying to push me out of an identity by professing concern for problems that don’t exist. Why? Why are you going out of your way to tell other people they’re wrong about their own identity? Why is your reaction, when you see an identity you don’t understand, to decide it’s unhealthy, or just make-believe, or whatever, and then to make that the problem of the people who identify that way? What exactly makes you think this is inherently unhealthy?

Would it not be better to devote that energy to trying to understand us, instead of trying to change us?

You don’t have to answer these questions to me, obviously, but I do encourage you to answer them to yourself at least. Pick apart your worldview for a minute and see if it actually holds up under scrutiny - it’s good for you, and mental enrichment to boot! If you are willing to really get into the weeds of this discussion with me, again, I’d love to do that - I love having discussions like this, and it’s good for me to have my worldview challenged every so often too! Please, genuinely, pick at the flaws in my logic if you see them - if it can be pulled apart under scrutiny, it needs to be pulled apart and rebuilt. No one on the internet is obligated to let a stranger do that, obviously, but personally I enjoy it - it’s a meat pumpkin for me - so let’s talk, if you’re up for it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten a good interesting antikin to debate with.

[jakescaravel]

A Lovey Promise

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 4,718

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, being tipsy, friends to lovers, kissing, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dares, teasing, dom Jake, hickeys, praise, very very slight allusions to pain (only briefly), orgasm denial, 18+ MDNI!!!

Summary: Your best friend, dripping with a level of confidence that slightly annoys you, delivers an offer, a bet that you simply can't refuse...

6 empty shot glasses sit on the coffee table in front of you thanks to you and Jake’s ongoing tradition. That being shots and a movie, always picked at random (that part being very important), at least once a month although it usually ends up being more.

You lay on the couch curled into Jake’s side underneath a warm comforter. Your hand softly rests on his chest, feeling the gentle beat of his heart along with the subtle ruse and fall of his chest. His arm wraps around you, cocooning you in your shared world of peace, calming you in a way only capable by Jake. It’s so easy to feel safe with him like this. Sometimes when the two of you hang out, you forget that anyone else exists at all. Just the two of you in his small, old apartment.

The cuddling is entirely platonic of course. Not many people understand you and Jake’s friendship, but to the two of you, it makes perfect sense. Sure you guys cuddle and hang out constantly, and maybe you’ve shared a few makeout sessions after having one too many, but those were just “mistakes”. He’s your best friend. And nothing more.

You’re definitely feeling the alcohol and Jake must be as well due to his slightly slurred speech and uncensored Jake commentary.

“Whaddyou think ‘bout the movie Lovey?”

You can feel his head turn towards yours when he speaks, chin resting atop your head, although you can’t see his face. His use of your nickname warms your heart. Especially because of the way it floats off his adorably inebriated tongue. You had earned that nickname after buying a boyfriend of yours flowers years ago- an act Jake thought to be silly and just plain backwards. (“You’re such a hopeless romantic, you’re so lovey dovey, it's honestly sickening. What, does this guy not buy you flowers? Do I need to have a talk with him? Bet he doesn’t fuck you right either…)

The name stuck ever since, but of course you love it. 

“I don’t really know what's going on to be honest.”

“Yeah… itsnot very good.” He states matter of factly before a yawn passes his lips. “Oh look, they're kissing, finally some action!”

Huffing a laugh at his almost childlike revelation, you sit up a little taller and turn your head back toward the screen. The two characters, nameless due to your lack of attention, sit on a couch, hands chasing after each other. She moans into the kiss, parting her lips for him as he lays her down on the couch. Your thighs clench together on their own accord and you could have sworn it’s subtle, but Jake lets out a giggle.

You decide to ignore him completely with your eyes still glued to the screen. Jake’s remarks have stopped, telling you he’s watching just as intently as you, and all of a sudden you’re very aware of how close you are to him. His breathing, his hair ticking your face, his smell. He always smells so good, fresh and clean, but buried below a layer of sweat and musk. So Jake, so perfect. 

You wonder what he's thinking about. Maybe if he too notices the proximity of your bodies, or the way your breathing has slowly picked up.

The man’s hand drifts down as the girl let’s out another overly dramatic moan. Of course the screen doesn’t really show anything, but it sure leaves a lot to the imagination, letting your mind wander without hopes of stopping. 

Jake shifts on the couch, his hand falling from around your shoulder to land around your hip. He pulls you closer to him and speaks again, but this time the playful quality to his voice is gone, and all that’s left is a low grumble.

“Do you think she’s enjoying it?” His other hand comes to your chin, pulling your face to look at him.

“What?” You try to look away from his eyes, the heated stare overwhelming you in your current flustered state, but his grip tightens forcing you to stare straight into his piercing brown eyes.

“Do you think that girl is having fun?” His lips curl into an alluring smile when he sees your slightly panicked state, releasing his hand from your chin, but not before quickly letting his thumb dart over your cheek.

You force yourself to maintain the contact, his dark gaze pulling you deeper into your thoughts and he offers you a smile that too closely resembles a smirk. You curse the heat growing between your legs at just the sight of that stupid smug look you want so badly to wipe from his face. Taking a grounding breath, you answer as if he hasn’t affected you at all. 

“Yeah I mean she’s moaning like a pornstar so it can’t be that bad.” 

He turns back to the screen nodding slowly, his lips pursed. “Well this guy is clearly not experienced.” 

You look back to the screen, questioning it for yourself. You guess you haven't really been paying attention to the details. It’s funny how anything slightly erotic just shuts off the brain, causing it to act like a horny sex zombie.

“Yeah this guy has no idea what he’s doing.” He states again, an air of confidence in his tone that amuses you. 

“Oh really? And you’ve got it all figured out right?”

“Well yeah.” He quips back.

You can’t help the laugh that trills out. All guys think the same; they all think they’re the best in bed, and they all think they make their girl cum when really… they never have.

“What, you don’t believe me?” A stupid grin paints his face and he pokes your cheek, making them instantly flame.

“No Jake, I don’t think you could please a woman any better than this guy.” You point to the small screen again, rolling your eyes.

“Oh reallyyy.” He drags out the last syllable as he sits up to face you.

You turn to him, cutting your eyes at his sneering face. He reaches for the bottle of vodka on the coffee table, taking a swig straight from the bottle. You force your eyes away from his bobbing adam's apple as the liquid goes down. He doesn’t even wince.

“I could make a girl cum with just my fingers.”

You roll your eyes again, trying to ignore the warmness that has made its way to your cheeks. When you look back to Jake, you can tell that he’s made no joke, no silly remark. He’s being serious.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“I could prove it to you.”

You let out a slow shaky breath after realizing you had been holding it in. You extend your hand to reach for the bottle. Taking a generous swing of the burning liquid, you return your attention to the man in front of you.

“You could prove it to me?”

“I bet I could make you cum with just these.” He holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers in the air.

“Bullshit.”

“You really don’t believe me huh Lovey? You’ve never heard what they say about guitarists?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

His voice is low, dripping with sex and his tongue comes out licking a slow line along his bottom lip. He smirks when he notices you staring. And god, that little nickname, what used to seem so innocent now having a playful bite.

“I bet I could make you cum three times with just my fingers.” He holds them up again, reaching out to touch your face. You jump back and he laughs at you.

He stares at you, waiting for a response. Your mind is racing along with your heart. There’s no way he’s being serious… but the look on his face tells you otherwise. He raises his eyebrows again in question.

“Is that a bet?”

“Maybe it is… and you know I never lose.”

He’s referring to his competitiveness by nature. It’s true that as long as you've known him, he won’t stand losing. It’s a part of being a Kiszka you’ve figured out by now. They always bend the rules in their favor, making sure they’re on the winning side of whatever bet, whatever contest. 

“I don’t think you’re winning this one Jakey.” You mean for it to come off as condescending but the second you hear the words come out of your mouth you wish to pull them back in. You can tell he’s taken them as an even further challenge as his eyebrows raise in question.

He leans forward on the couch, planting his hands on his knees until you can feel his breath.

“Well I wouldn’t lose, but just to humor you, I’ll bet you whatever you want.”

A low tingle has formed inside your stomach. A familiar feeling - the anxious excitement. The thrill of the flirt, although you still can’t tell just how playful it is, and that thought alone makes you want to hurl or pounce on him, you still haven’t decided. 

“I get whatever I want?” For some reason, confidence is building inside you. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you - so sure of himself that you have no choice but to match the energy. Or maybe it’s because deep down, you know you want whatever he’s thinking of giving to you.

He gives you a slow nod, smiling again at your new slightly eager tone.

“I want you to admit that you’re not some guitar god, you’re just another guy. You need to stop acting so full of yourself, you need to be humbled.”

He laughs again, a genuine laugh that reminds you of your best friend, although it doesn’t seem that’s the person sitting in front of you right now.

“Sure y/n, and if I win, you have to call me ‘The Sex God.’ ”

The nervous laughter bubbles out of you as you cast your eyes to your feet. The worst part of this is that he’s acting like such a douchebag, but you don’t hate it. In fact you find yourself wanting to know what it’s like to sleep with the sex god, as stupid as it sounds.

“Why do you want to so bad Jakey?”

“Well first of all, don’t act like you don’t want to, I can see it written all over your face. You forget I know you better than anyone. And second, don’t act so naive.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, simultaneously nervous and excited for the answer.

“I love you and care about you, so much, you’re my best friend, but don’t act like we’re above all that. We’ve kissed before y/n, you really think we’d never go farther?”

“Well… I’m not really sure. I guess the thought crossed my mind… maybe I thought it would happen eventually.”

Your own confession slightly shocks you, but as soon as you say the words aloud, nothing has ever made more sense. You look back to him and he looks almost proud of you, and it makes you want to jump into his arms and suck the praise right out of him.

“That’s my girl.” He smiles again, flashing you all his teeth, making your heart melt all over again.

“Come on, don’t overthink it.” 

He starts to stand up, making the whole situation seem very, very real. You close your eyes for a moment, just in case this is some sort of dream, but when you open them, you’re even more sure that this is what you want. You want him. You want your best friend, and as wrong as it might be, it's the truth.

He extends his hand, a simple gesture, an invitation, and you take it, letting him lead you into unknown waters.

He pulls you in front of him, letting you lead the way to the room you’ve slept in a million times. His hands meet your hips as you walk, the touch feeling searing hot and trickling down until you can feel the wetness between your legs.

Your mind is simultaneously racing and completely empty. How is it that an act so forbidden could feel so right? So simple?

The curtains are pulled back on the window allowing a sliver of moonlight to poke into the room. Aside from that, the lights are off and you almost ask him to turn them on but then decide it’s probably for the best.

Once he reaches the bed, he turns to face you and his features start to come into view as your eyes adjust to the darkness. He wears a smug grin as he extends his hand for you to grab once more. He sits on the bed, shuffling backwards as you grab his hand, letting him pull you to meet him. 

He rests his body along the headboard and you crawl closer, stilling in front of him on your knees, unsure of your next move. Thankfully he does the thinking for you.

“Turn around.”

Without second guessing it, you turn around so that your back is to him, and impatiently, he pulls your hips back, reminding you of his strength so that you rest, slotted in between his extended legs, back flush against his chest.

Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself to melt into his touch, after all, it is familiar. Your head lays back in the crook of his neck and his lips ghost over your ear.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

His voice is barely above a whisper and sends a shiver down your spine. Without saying a word you lift up your arms and allow him to slide off the thin fabric. Having chosen to skip the bra this morning, your chest springs free to which he hums in approval. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Carefully, his fingers slide against your skin, trailing along the top of your breast before kneading into the soft skin. He emits a low growl in your ear as your back arches, chasing his touch.

Before he has the chance to ask, you lift your hips off the bed to slide your pants down, along with the lacey panties you had chosen this morning - such a shame he isn’t able to see them. Upon your eager initiative, Jake grants you a kiss to the exposed flesh of your neck, traveling up to whisper in your ear.

“Good girl.”

The proximity of his voice, the words he speaks, the rush of it all makes you utter a small moan that doesn’t go unnoticed. He seems to suck it in along with the small mark he makes just below your ear. You savor the feeling of his wet mouth on you, hoping it never leaves as his hand starts to slide down your stomach.

Your legs part for him as his hand reaches your mound, stilling there, garnering anticipation that makes you hold your breath, releasing it when he slides an inch further.

Finally, like the first gasp you take upon emerging from water, his fingers slide over your clit to your entrance to gather up the evidence of your arousal. A small moan is muffled through your gritted teeth as his fingers slide through you, he laughs against your ear. 

“All this for me?”

His breath tickles you and in an act that makes your head spin, he sucks gingerly on your earlobe while plunging his middle and ring finger deep inside you. The sudden pressure causes your head to push back even further as you arch away from him. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back to meet his chest as his fingers push in even deeper, testing the limits of your tight walls.

Whines and moans surpass your lips as his fingers start to curl inside you, pulling in and out as they tuck in. Have his fingers always been this thick? This heavy? Watching him play guitar they always seemed so nimble but now, now you aren’t so sure. 

The mere stretch of only two of them makes you wonder what it would feel like to have a third, a fourth or perhaps to have his cock instead. How it would feel stretching you out even further.

With his hand picking up a steady rhyme, his lips are back on you, biting and licking their way up to your ear to whisper sweet praises. He moves back to the skin of your shoulder, marking you in a way that may make you feel ashamed tomorrow, but today, all you feel is the pure ecstasy he’s supplying you with.

“How does it feel, baby?”

“Good.” You manage to choke out, hardley comprehending what he’s saying as his fingers jolt inside of you.

“Just keep on feeling, I'll get you there.”

He licks a stripe up to the skin behind your ear, circling it there as you push your head deeper into his touch. Your legs start to tremble, feeling as if the pleasure is too much while being not nearly enough. The slow build starts in your stomach and travels to your chest, tightening while your muscles contract, flowing to your toes as they gently curl and flex. 

“That’s it, just give it up baby.”

Your moans become sporadic and in mere seconds you feel almost there, except he slows his fingers down to which you whine in protest. His low gravely laughter hits the shell of your ear going straight to your core as he picks the pace back up, reminding you of how close you were.

Your hips arch away from him again but this time his hand travels to the flesh of your breast, squeezing and pulling you back to him. It almost hurts as his fingers pinch around your nipple, but at the same time, pain feels like a foreign concept entirely. You scoot back too, feeling his rock solid cock threatening to burst from his pants. You want to see it, want to touch it, taste it. However your thoughts are cut off when it finally explodes inside of you.

You can’t hear the sounds you’re making as your legs thrash against the sheets, head turning and arching as his fingers work away inside of you. It washes you over, seeming like it has no end, making you feel like this was the best decision you’ve ever made. 

However as soon as it starts, it slows, letting you still feel the pleasant buzz as your legs calm down, still twitching and jolting with every slowed movement of his strong fingers.

“Number 1.”

He hums in your ear. He sounds amused, like you're only a toy he gets the pleasure of playing with, however you have no problem with that if it means you get to feel like this.

“Can you give me another?” He poses it as a question, but you know it's really a demand.

His fingers don’t stop inside you, threatening to pull you into overstimulation as they continue to deliciously curl inside. You turn your face to his, whining against his lips which he presses into yours, for just a split second before pulling back - like he regrets the action, however you don’t have enough time to process it.

The fizzling orgasm picks back up, this time coming from deeper within, almost sizzling white hot, making your legs shake even harder. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s coming. Bubbling up slower so that you hope it can be over with, to save you from the burning anticipation. 

“Jake I- I can’t… it’s too much.”

“No it isn’t, just relax, feel it. You’re so close, let me have it, I want it.”

Fuck. The greed he so shamelessly emits. The greed for you, for your cum. It’s enough to make your mind go blank as you force yourself to just feel the feelings he’s giving you. 

He pushes his hand back so that the crook of his thumb rubs against your clit with every drag of his fingers. One of two swipes and you’re rocking your hips into his them, chasing the feeling as it washes you over again.

His name falls from your lips until it’s the only word you know, and in the far distance you can hear his own struggling moans of pleasure, his own ragged breathing as you tremble against him.

When it becomes too much, your legs shut around his hand, but his feet lock over your ankles, pulling your legs apart and overpowering them with his weight until you’re spread even wider while his hand finishes the job. 

Finally, before you would have fallen into the waters of bliss, drowned forever, his hand slows and fingers gently slide out of you. You watch them, glistening with the moonlight as they rest on your heaving stomach. 

Your legs are still open as they jolt and shudder. A single nip is given to your neck before a kiss is placed in its spot. “You did so good for me, so so good.”

A small smile makes its way across your face, although he can’t see it. You want to find the right words to let him know how good he can make you feel, better than anyone else, but your lack of words must do for now. You can’t help yourself as you turn your face to tuck into his neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

His other hand pets your hair as you take a few deep breaths, grounding yourself. Before you’ve barely regained your footing, his hand is drifting lower, you can feel the wetness it leaves in its path before a single digit circles your swollen clit. You yelp in surprise as it presses in further. You bite the skin of his neck, listening and reveling in the hiss he makes that flows out of him like a soft whine. It’s delectable and reignites that flame inside you.

“Can you give me number 3?” He whispers to you, like he’s scared to wake you even though you’re far from asleep. You give a slow nod and pick your face up to watch his soaked fingers drag further down your slit until three of them tease at your entrance. 

You bite your bottom lip as they start to slide in, stretching you with every inch, stinging in the perfect way when he pushes them deeper in, relying on a little force to press them all the way in. A chokes out moan struggles out of you, filling the room in a way that should make you feel ashamed, but in this moment, you feel nothing of the sort. 

Once his fingers reach in as far as they'll go, he wastes no time in picking up a merciless pace. It's hard to even register the speed as they pump in and out, filling you up in the most satisfying way you’ve ever experienced.

His mouth is on you again. Hot. Wet. And strong as he licks and sucks with no real purpose, only to satisfy his needs through watching you like this.

“Cum for me Lovey, make me win, I wanna watch it come out of you, soak my hand even more. Come on, let me have it… fuck Lovey…”

It’s something about that stupid nickname falling from his lips so desperately as his dominant demeanor falters, showing you his true need for you. It’s not hard to give it up as it builds faster than before. It feels like it springs out of nowhere until you're screaming into the otherwise quiet room. You’ll surely get strange looks walking from his apartment in the morning, but it doesn't matter, nothing matters. You feel on fire, perfect, fulfilled.

His teeth drag along your skin as your head thrashes in the crook of his neck, legs threatening to break free from his grasp as he struggles to hold you there. His hand works relentlessly as you moan and whine while your hands twist into the sheets, toes curling, eyes rolling back as you lose sense of the world around you.

His other hand snakes down to tease over your sensitive clit as his teeth bite into the flesh of your neck. Your whole body is numb the second he touches you there. The white hot pleasure is enough to make you cease to exist. You’re just a body floating in a colorless void with sounds in the distance you aren’t sure you're making. 

His voice raises in volume until it breaks through your void, allowing you to hear him. He’s choking on his words through a cloud of lust, “Come on Lovey, you can give me one more, give me number 4.” It sounds like he’s never wanted something more in his life. Sounds like he needs it more than you do. His voice is quivering through painted breaths as his hands move even faster, working you with perfect opposition. 

His tongue darts out, licking into your ear before teeth come to bite around your earlobe, enough to make it sting, enough to make you want more. And then it burst out of you. The only sense - touch, the warmness seeping in from under you. Your legs threaten to break the bed as they break free from Jake’s grasp, clenching around his hands that show no sign of stopping. 

You feel it around your legs too, the warmness, the flow, the wetness. His breath is on your neck again, you can hear him moaning into your ear. 

“That’s it Lovey, good girl, good girl baby. Just give it up, come on, that’s it, soak me, yeah just like that…”

A few more seconds and he slows his movements down until your legs fall from around his hands. They lay defeated on the bed as he removes his fingers from you. Your chest is heaving up and down as you come back to earth to find a dark spot sitting on the bed beneath you.

When you realize what it is you cast your eyes away, hiding once more in the crook of his neck, but he sits you up taller to pull your face away.

“What's wrong y/n?”

You don’t answer, don't speak. There's nothing you could possibly say to him, that is until you meet his eyes, once dark with lust now turned sweet, and you can almost see them shine in the moonlight.

For some reason, in this moment, the air of seriousness breaks and your face erupts in laughter. It doesn’t take much for him to join in and soon you’re laughing together, just like old times, but it doesn't feel wrong. Not in the slightest.

“I’ve never done that before.” You finally speak up, looking back to the ruined sheets.

“Well that. Was easily the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” “Really?”

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

You stare at him for a moment, letting yourself blush and smile as he repeats the action. The sweet moment is short lived however when he turns it back to the bet.

“So if making you cum 3 times makes me the Sex God… then what does 4 times make me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up Jake.”

“Well I won the bet. You better uphold your side of the deal.”

You stare at him angrily before muttering under your breath, but of course that isn’t enough for him. His smile, despite being covered by shadows, lights up the room with his pride, flowing off of him like sex.

“You’re The Sex God.”

“What was that? Couldn’t really hear you.”

“You’re The fucking Sex God Jake, I swear to god if you make me say it one more time.”

“Okay thank you. I’m satisfied. By the way, do you want to put some clothes on?”

You look down, blushing once more at your exposed skin. Before you even have time to have any shred of decency to cover yourself up, he's lifting his shirt up and handing it to you. You thank him and slide it over your body before stealing a quick glance to his smooth chest. You quickly look back up to his smirking face, and roll your eyes once more.

“Oh uh by the way.. I know this isn’t the best timing but uhh I don’t have any extra sheets so we’re gonna have to sleep on the couch…”

.

.

.

.

Part 2

[briarandhissecretgarden]

A Minecraft Movie Trailer Dive

Alright!! I have a hard time talking about things in a more real? manner like this but I feel like it's important to be honest and share thoughts.

So the Minecraft movie trailer is a trailer that exists and it's incredibly upsetting to say the least. i had always had hopes of it being entirely animated and be a sort fo film version of Minecraft: Story Mode but it's clearly not that at all. It's a shame too, it's incredibly disappointing to know it's live action as I am a HUGE advocate for animated movies and blockbusters and such. I think Minecraft is a game that is so fantastical and developed and normalized within it's own plane of existence that trying to translate it as anything other than an animated movie fundamentally goes against what the game is supposed to be.

Minecraft is creativity incarnate. It is a canvas for you to do quite literally anything with. And i think turning it into a pathetic cash grab live action movie is about as hard away as you can get from it's core values. You lazily slap real people to into the game to mock and laugh at and disrupt the flow of it's own universe. Treating this game as if it is nothing but a child' plaything despite the fact that people of any age can play it and find joy and excitement. I think the jokes and the overall childish view of the game is disgusting I think it belittles it, I think Minecraft as a whole, encourages all ages and helps develop personal understanding of the world around us and our own ideals. Maybe we'd like to build a large house, go on, here are hundreds of blocks to choose from! Loads of colors, be free!!! Perhaps you'd like to calm down and play with friends or even challenge yourselves, go on with multiplayer! There's servers and achievements!!! There's plenty of things to do. And I think one of the most important things is that, none of this is wrong or weird. None of this is an incorrect way of playing, nothing you do is bad. This isn't supposed to be humbling this isn't supposed to be stressful or something to laugh at. Your desires and plans are valid.

Perhaps as an autistic individual myself, I find that so comforting. I understand it's just a movie, but it's a movie that fundamentally gets everything wrong about this lovely game. I don't understand how these trailers and jokes and plot points are treated as if it's okay to be bad if it's for children. It's saddening.

Either way, moving onto a different subject that I have much more knowledge about and care too much of, the Piglins.

This trailer shows off that Piglins are meant to be the main antagonists, as well as the The Seer having a role in the plot. I have many problems with this, and I will be discussing this through the lens of my own experiences, especially as it comes to my race. (I am latino for those who don't know)

First things first, no, the Piglins aren't evil by any means. I know a lot of media has a very black and white view of them but honestly, take a moment to think about this.

Piglins are minding their business, having fun, living their lives, when a bunch of explorers come barging into their home, exploiting them for their willingness to barter, stealing their valuables right from their houses, and on top of that, being killed and hurt because they dare fight back and attempt to protect one another.

To me, it's incredibly disheartening to see Piglins being portrayed as some kind of aggressors, savages and barbaric monsters all because they want to protect their way of life. I don't understand how emotionless people seem to act toward them. They aren't even physically accurate to the game models. They wear clothes, they use tools, they talk amongst themselves. It's very disgusting to see how this group that is CLEARLY INTELLIGENT BTW (they make music, tools, clothes, armor, buildings, homes and have a complex social system) being drawn and shown in less clothes, more violent tendencies, a more destroyed home and life, even showing violence among themselves to portray them as anything other than the interesting and complex species they are.

I'm just tired of the racist undertones that most Piglin plots seem to have. I find it insulting to them, i find it concerning regarding the language used. 'barbaric' 'crude' 'savage'

Just makes me angry.

[antianakin]

I'm starting to see some very funny (and by funny I mean infuriating) takes on what Andor was actually ABOUT and the way it utilized its more adult narrative within the context of Star Wars. Andor as a show followed Lucas's themes BRILLIANTLY even while choosing to look at them a little differently.

One of the primary themes in Star Wars is that there really isn't much of a "middle ground" in life. You are either choosing to be selfless and compassionate, or you aren't. Trying to stay in the middle or run from making this choice inevitably ends up badly for the people who try. And one of the other primary themes of Star Wars is that being selfless and compassionate often requires LETTING GO, most often letting go of the people you love and accepting that change happens in life.

I've seen people argue that Andor is able to be a morally grey story because its characters aren't Jedi or Sith who tend to be more bound by these cosmic themes or good vs evil, but I'd argue that Andor actually represents that theme JUST FINE.

Despite many of its characters living in a "morally ambiguous" area, we still have to see them make the choice to be selfless and compassionate or selfish and greedy. One of the primary themes for the characters is how well they can LET GO or not. Cassian is constantly having to figure out how to let go of his plans for his future, let go of his mother, let go of his dreams of a normal life. Cassian is ruled by fear for much of the first season and it's only once he is pushed into a situation where there's no longer any way to run, he starts finally fighting back and refusing to bow to the oppressive force that wants nothing more than to see him discarded like so much refuse. The people of Ferrix have to let go of their desire to stick their heads in the sand and simply hope the Empire won't notice them.

And on the other end of the spectrum you have Syril Karn and Dedra Meero absolutely fixated on their respective goals to the point that they're willing to kill and betray innocent people to reach them. They've convinced themselves their goals are selfless, but their motivations are in fact actually SELFISH, they serve nobody but their own ambitions. And both of them end up paying for it.

So Andor ABSOLUTELY gets the central theme of Star Wars, it isn't actually trying to change that. What it DOES do is take that theme and just digs slightly deeper, looking at this theme from a slightly different angel even when it ultimately comes to the same conclusion. Andor asks if selflessness and compassion always looks like "I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you!" Or if maybe sometimes making the selfless choice means burning yourself to light a fire to lead someone else to safety. Are all people who make the selfless and compassionate choice considered heroes, or are some of them having to make those choices down in the dirt and destined to be forgotten by history? Andor asks how many variations of selflessness might exist and then explores them in its wide, colorful ensemble.

Andor also is looking at what selflessness might look like in characters who are forced into making a choice between standing back when they see evil happening and dirtying their hands just to make the smallest difference because forces of evil outside of their control are making the purer options impossible.

And that is the EXACT SAME THEME explored with the Prequels Jedi. The Jedi who want so badly to be selfless and compassionate, whose philosophies and ideologies lead them to use violence only as a last resort and love everyone and everything in the galaxy equally. The Jedi who are thrust into a war where there's no way to win because the Sith are running both sides of it and the Jedi can't just NOT FIGHT because that will get innocent people killed and will help no one but themselves, but they have to compromise their morals as a result. The Jedi who see a politician slowly amassing unreasonable amounts of power he's unwilling to let go of and a Senate too controlled by fear and greed to see the danger, so their only option is to commit treason to try to remove the corruption personally.

The Jedi LOOK the hero part a lot more than the characters in Andor do. They're strong, confident, powerful, and wield swords of light. They fight out in the open rather than from the shadows. Cassian, Luthen, Saw, Mon Mothma, Vel, and Cinta all manipulate things and threaten people and lie and cheat their way towards victory. Both Mon Mothma and Luthen fully admit to choosing to act like their enemy in order to defeat them. And it's not that the Jedi's way of fighting is any worse than the way the people of Andor have learned to fight. The people of Andor would LOVE to be able to fight like the Jedi used to do. But they can't. Palpatine has created a world in which being heroes that way is NO LONGER POSSIBLE. He started with the Jedi, by forcing the Jedi into a situation where fighting the way they once did was the wrong choice to make. There were no longer any right choices, just better choices. The only choice.

The Jedi stood as a bulwark between the darkness and the people of the galaxy. For years they chose to dirty their hands in order to fight the battles no one else WANTED to fight because it was the ONLY CHOICE TO MAKE. So what happens when the Jedi are gone?

The rest of the galaxy is now faced with the same choice. Do you stand by and let darkness grow? Or do you dirty your hands a little because it's the only choice you CAN make?

The people in Andor are picking up the torch that fell out of the Jedi's hands when they were murdered and persecuted by the Sith. Only the people who are left don't have magic powers or swords of light, so they use the resources they have at their disposal, which mostly amounts to manipulation and trickery and striking from shadows. The fight looks a little different now, but it's still the same fight the Jedi were fighting for years.

So Andor is taking those bigger cosmic themes from the Jedi/Sith conflicts that permeate the rest of the Skywalker saga and asks what those themes might look like when applied to the little people. What kind of choices might THEY make, what kind of things might they have to let go of in order to make those selfless choices? What kind of consequences might happen when they DON'T make the selfless choice? It's the exact same theme Lucas has ALWAYS had in his stories, just viewed from a different angle or through a different lens.

But the stories we've been getting recently that are trying to argue that being selfish is actually totally fine so long as you're doing it For Love, that the Jedi were in fact the source of everything that went wrong in the galaxy, that the Jedi were DESTINED to be destroyed, those all go completely against Lucas's themes. They're the direct OPPOSITE of his intended message. It is in fact entirely possible to write a more adult story with grittier content that STILL SENDS THE SAME FUCKING MESSAGE AND FOLLOWS THE SAME THEMES and doesn't try to get edgy in its interpretation of the source material.