#Removed a word for more sense making future stuff

[theravenandtherunaway]

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[cepheustarot]

What kind of vibe do you have?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the describes being ultimate truth. Only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: You’re the vibe of a strong person who’s determined, productive and active, and people see you as a leader who can inspire and lead people, you motivate others by your example. You are one of those who are not standing still and constantly busy with anything, you are constantly in motion, around you are always a stormy activity. Along with this comes the vibe of a person of cool head and rational thinking, you know a lot and have a lot of experience behind you, people see you as a wise person, they see you as someone who gives the right advice and can always help. To some extent you can call a genius of some kind, because you will definitely find a way out of any situation, find a solution to any problem. Also you are very curious by nature, love to learn everything new, you literally absorb knowledge (I would also suggest that you’re very interested in sociology, psychology and the like, you’re one of those people who likes to study human behavior, society on the sociological side, human interaction and all that sort of stuff). I also want to note that if you are very interested in a topic or question, then you will definitely find the answer, no matter which way, but you will achieve your goal.

Pile 2: From you comes the vibe of a person prone to melancholy, you can constantly be seen in a brooding state, you seem a little detached from the reality around you and you are immersed in yourself, in your inner world, constantly thinking about something personal, something only you understand. You’re just as hesitant by nature, you’re hard-pressed to make choices, because you weigh decisions everything carefully, consider every option from the outside, and you find pros and cons in every option, you think a lot about the consequences, what your decision will lead to in the future. You have the whole vibe of a person who has a tendency to analyze a lot, not only about yourself, but also about others, you think a lot about the actions of others and as if looking for a catch in their actions. Also, you have an inner linchpin and in stressful situations you become a person who remove his emotions for a while and faces the problem, successfully solving it. You may think a lot about problems, but you never dive into them, you are able to control your thoughts and actions. In other words, you never let problems get you unsettle. You are a pretty determined and hard man who will handle any obstacle. 

Pile 3: You have the vibe of a person who is easy-going, you are easily interested in something and you are curious about many things, you can say that you have tried a lot in your life and you always have something to tell others, to share your history and experience in one or another field. Perhaps because you have tried a lot, you do not know what one to do in life, what particular area to choose, as you are attracted to everything. With this you have a vibe of an ambitious person, you most often follow the case to the end, most likely you have a lot of plans for life and you are the ones who think of any little things and details. People see you as a cheerful, friendly person, you always cheer others up and leave good memories, you have a good sense of humor and are able to conduct a dialogue so that everyone will be interested, including you. Partly,  you have the vibe of a somewhat naive person who often head in the clouds and build castles in the air. You also stand up your end and if you want something very much, you will certainly achieve, you do not care if people do not support your decisions, because it is only your life and you decide what it will be. 

[ihavethedreamies]

Oh, Baby-Girl | Bang Chan

Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5.5k

Pairing: Bang Chan x Tall!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Mafia AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Mentions of Guns (Mob/Mafia type stuff), Bodyguard! Chan, Mob Boss Daughter! Reader, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! & M! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Spanking, Daddy Kink (it is Bang Chan after all), Unprotected Sex (Not Recommended), Big Dick! Chan

Author's Note: Oh no, what is this? I couldn't have possibly wrote this since I am working so diligently on packing. Well, as long as it's here…

There is just something about the choreography for Chk Chk Boom that did something to me, I'm sure many of you agree.

P.S. If you haven't read my stuff before, or much of it, you might not notice, but the rest of you have probably figured out I got a bit of a face-fucking fascination. Thanks for getting to know me.

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Being a mob boss’s wife isn’t nearly as fun and glamorous as the movies and shows (and TikTok) make it out to be. However, being the mob boss's daughter? A bit of a different story. You were protected from the violence and crime, but still got to reap the rewards. Fancy clothes, expensive jewelry, a nice car, and a bodyguard as well. Despite never being able to see him, you knew you were well protected as you walked down the streets of New York, spending all of your papa's corrupt money. A few designer shopping bags hung in the crook of your elbow over your cropped jacket, fur lining the ends of the sleeves and lapels. Faux of course, you might be the daughter of a criminal, but you weren't a monster. The thin heels of your over-the-knee (also faux) leather boots clicked on the sidewalk as you tapped away on your phone with your thumb. People moved out of your way as you walked, you just had the aura of 'fuck around and find out'. The gum in your mouth smacked as you chewed, sneering at a child who didn't move out of the way fast enough. Your eye roll was hidden behind your Versace sunglasses, but your down-turned lip covered in dark red lipstick was still obvious. Your stiletto acrylic nails were the same dark red and clicked against your phone as you scrolled through your search results. Despite how you looked and dressed, you still preferred to shop sales. That gave you more bang for your buck, since your father did limit your money some. As you passed an overly full trash can, you plucked the gum from your mouth and onto the pile. It had lost all its flavor… Approaching the next store, you were about to enter when you suddenly felt something instinctual rise up in you. You halted, people scurrying around you still, and with your natural height paired with six-inch pumps, you still stood a head above a lot of the passersby. You felt vulnerable for some reason and huffed in frustration, shoving the door open to the boutique you had stopped in front of. It wasn't your original destination, but you instantly felt safer being inside. It wasn't anywhere close to the first time your ingrained sense of danger had kicked in, and it wouldn't be the last. You know there was at least one bodyguard tailing you even if you never saw him, but that didn't mean the shelter of a store wasn't welcome.

"Welcome." One of the employees calling out snapped you out of your trance, having been looking out the window at the street. You turned and gave her a forced smile and removed your sunglasses. Deciding to look around while you were in the shop, you admired some of the items, but none of them were up to your standard, but that lingering feeling…lingered. Picking up a pair of shoes to look over, you looked out the window more, trying to see if you could pick out anyone lurking outside. Nope. Pressing your lips together, you sighed and moved to leave. Stepping back onto the street, you looked around again, trying to be subtle, almost like you were looking for a cab. Still not seeing anything that stuck out, you moved on and toward your actual destination. You were hit with an even greater sense of doom as you heard the screech of car tires in the distance and you spun around to see a black SUV hurdling down the street, unusually empty for New York. Like it was in slow motion, as the vehicle approached, the window rolled down and a gloved hand stuck out, a Glock in his hand.

"Shit!" You moved to duck behind a parked sedan, and you yelped when your heel snapped as you dove for cover. Your ankle twisted and your tights ripped, but you got behind the vehicle as you heard the gunshots. People around you screamed, and you scrambled to hit the emergency button on your phone, but… It was shattered. It must have hit the sidewalk harder than you did.

"Fuck!" You shoved the device into your purse, and you watched as people ran and screamed. Getting up just enough to peer through the blown-out window of the car you hid behind, your ankle protested, and you fell back down, catching yourself with your hand.

"Did you get her?" You heard a gruff voice shout followed by, "No!" Then, through the running pedestrians, a huge man appeared, a gun in his hand. He was right down the sidewalk, and you were right in view. Before you even had the chance to pray, a figure stepped between you and the assailant. You couldn't see since he was in your way, but you heard his gun go off and watched the goon fall from between the legs of your savior. He had to have been the bodyguard that your father told you was constantly at your tail. The man groaned and cursed, the same SUV coming to help haul him away, clutching as his knee. Sirens grew closer and you tried to get up, pushing on your scraped hand. You winced again, at least three of your nails on that hand were broken, a fourth cracked, and your heel was ruined. It would have been way too awkward to try and stand with just one pump, so you took off your other one.

"Here." The man who saved you had an accent, you couldn't quite place it in the moment. His leather-gloved hands grabbed your forearms and he more or less yanked you up. When you stood before him, he was…short. About an inch or two shorter than you…with your heels off. He was also really fucking hot. It was clear he was a bit shocked at the height difference as well since he had never been so close to you. Was he the guy always guarding you? You guessed it didn't matter if he was shorter if he was protecting you from afar. He shoved his pistol in the back of his pants, and you watched his white t-shirt struggle across his muscular chest as he did so.

"You okay, love?" Australian, it was definitely an Australian accent. And it was also really fucking hot.

"Y-Yes." You finally answered and you jerked to grab your bags, but he was grabbing them along with your purse before you could get close.

"Can you walk?" He nodded at your bare feet, and you stood on one of them, rolling your twisted ankle to test it. Putting weight back on it, "I can manage." He then started to lead you into the nearest alley as the police cruisers grew closer. At least you had stockings on as you meandered through the not exactly clean back alleys, and he finally brought you to another big black SUV parked behind some bakery.

"Here." He opened the passenger door, and you climbed in as he threw your bags in the back. You sat, shaking still as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Sh-should I be up front?" Your voice was also shaking still, and he started the vehicle.

"The windows are tinted, but we'll be quick."

"Quick? Where are we going?" Your father's building was a good twenty minutes away, let alone the house on the outskirts of the city.

"Closest place is mine."

"Y-you are my bodyguard, right?" You just realized that even though he saved you, that didn't mean it was his job. The man huffed and wrangled his leather jacket off, tossing it in the back as well. The clean lines of your father's crest were tattooed into his bicep, and you slumped in the seat.

"What's your name?"

"Chan."

"Just Chan?"

"Yep." It seemed he had been waiting for you to buckle up, because he reached around you to grab the still unfastened belt, doing it for you. He smelled really fucking good too and your head swam. The spike of adrenaline seemed to get all parts of your body worked up, but you forced the wave of arousal down. It was not the time nor place for any of that. The ride to his place was quiet, thankfully, because if he talked more, you would be a goner. Trying not to be obvious, you would look to the side to stare at him. His side profile was immaculate, strong nose and jaw line, full lips.

"So…are you…?" You didn't know how to word your question without sounding rude.

"Korean." He knew where you were going, and you let out a small 'ah' of understanding. Your father didn't get along with the Yakuza nor the Chinese mafia, so Korean made sense. Korean-Australian at that…right?

"Australia?" You wanted to make sure, not great at picking out the different British-origin accents.

"Yep."

"Am I annoying you?" He sagged at your question and shook his head.

"No, love, just trying to keep an eye out." He pointedly looked in the rear-view mirror and you let out a quiet apology. The silence made since then.

"Put your sunglasses on." Chan nodded at the item in your hand, and you did so, pointedly looking out the window as he pulled up to the security gate of his building's parking garage. Getting in without any comments from the guard, he parked in what you assumed was his designated spot. The guard got out and opened your door for you, giving you his hand for assistance. You grunted when you landed wrong on your still upset angle and he caught you, making your chest press to his.

"S-sorry." You flinched back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and he smiled gently.

"It's okay, Miss (Y/N)." Fuck, if you're already attracted to a guy with an accent, don't EVER let him say your name. As he was out of view to get your bags you mouthed an exaggerated 'oh my god' and quickly shut your mouth when he shut the back door. He led you toward the entrance door for the building, staying slow to accommodate your slight limp. Getting in the elevator, you still kept your sunglasses on just in case, though the building seemed pretty secure. That didn't mean the security watching the cameras were always completely trustworthy though. Enough money can convince most people of anything. You exhaled tiredly as you stopped by his door and Chan pressed the code into the number pad and it pinged. He held the front door open for you and you entered, hobbling down the entry hall. It was a nice place and you wondered how much your father paid him to watch you nearly 24/7. Or…

"So, are you my guard a lot?"

"During the day." So, yes.

"How long?"

"Hm…about three years."

"Ah." That was a pretty long time. So, he probably knew a lot about you, and you had never seen him before in your life.

"Oh! I need to call papa…" You rummaged through your purse that he had set on the coffee table. As you sat on the couch, you then remembered that your phone was broken.

"I'll handle it, love." Chan set your shopping bags and your shoes down as well and you had totally forgotten about your heels. When did he grab them too?

"I need to call a few others as well, if you want something to eat you can rummage through the kitchen." He nodded toward the other room behind where you sat and you nodded as he went down the other hallway, deeper into the apartment. You took the chance to look around and you wondered if he was ever there. Well, if he watched you all day for three years, he probably wasn't. The decoration was simple, almost like it was a hotel room rather than a living space, but it was nice. Maybe his bedroom was more personal? Hearing his muffled voice from further in, you stood and meandered to the kitchen like he suggested. Opening the fridge, there was more than you expected since the rest of the apartment was barren. Nothing stuck out though, but you noticed an object was in the oven despite it being off. You knew exactly what it was. Opening the oven, you grabbed the pizza box and opened it as your mouth watered. You weren't sure if the pizza was your favorite because you had it all the time (it was a front for your father's shenanigans) or if you genuinely liked it. Holding the day-old slice, you chewed absentmindedly, snooping through the rest of Chan's kitchen. He had a little wine display on the counter, and you pulled one of the bottles out to look at the label. You snorted, of course he had your family's vintage. Maybe he got a discount? At least you knew you liked it. Holding the slice in your mouth as you reached for a wine glass in the cupboard, you had to get on your tip toes to reach one. Could he normally reach them? There was dust on the glass, and you pondered if he ever used them.

"Sorry I don't use those glasses often." His voice startled you, but you kept a firm grip on the glass then set it down.

"That's fine… Do you just…drink from it?" You easily and expertly pulled the cork out with your bare hands since it was sticking out enough and he blinked at the ease with which you did so. Just because you were the daughter of a mob boss and didn't fight yourself, didn't mean you weren't strong. Your father made sure if it came to it, you could punch a guy's teeth out just as well as any bodyguard. That didn't help with guns, mind you.

"Uh, no," he huffed an airy laugh, it was actually kind of cute, "I just use a normal glass." He went to the cupboard next to the one you had been in and grabbed a square-shaped cup that looked like it was more for whiskey than wine.

"Are you doing okay, love?" He leaned against the counter as you poured yourself a glass after giving him some.

"I guess. My ankle kind of hurts still." You easily balanced on one leg, lifting the other foot to roll the joint around, testing its pain level.

"Just because I've never met you face to face doesn't mean I don't know you. Are you okay?" He pressed and you flinched to look at him. It wasn't…creepy perse, just, odd. You sighed, taking a sip, your hand still shaking a bit.

"Y-yeah. I mean, I've been around guns and stuff, but… I myself have never been shot at, you know?"

"I do, actually." He smiled cheekily and you sighed in mock annoyance.

"Well, it’s a little unfair that you seem to know me so well and I have no knowledge of you." You walked around the island and back toward the living room, sitting in relief on the couch. You crossed your leg over the other, injured ankle dangling in the air. Chan sat down next to you, leg up on the cushion so he could face you, toned arm resting on the back of the sofa. You felt his eyes linger on your tight-clad legs, your leather short-shorts showing most of your thighs. His gaze stopped at the tear in the supposedly tear-proof pantyhose, then snapped his head up like he just got startled awake. The man knew you knew he was ogling your legs and the tips of ears turned red as he cleared his throat. How was such a handsome man so cute?

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you get to be my bodyguard?"

"I had no mafia ties before. I guess that was a good thing. I was more or less scouted to be a bodyguard when I was a bouncer at some penthouse night club. It seems some of your dad's guys saw I was good, and I got offered way more money than any other job. They doubled it when I took the spot as your personal bodyguard."

"I see. Where did you learn to shoot so well?"

"I started at the shooting range when I was in college with my friends. I got better through work and your father made sure I was an expert before he put his baby girl's life in my hands."

"Hm, you obviously don't know me that well." You picked on a very small detail, wondering if he would know what it was.

"Hm, not his baby girl, his little kitten."

"Oh, maybe you do know me well then?"

"Quiz me, baby-girl." The way he said it was so different than two seconds prior. His tone deepened with it and a smug look settled casually on his face. You couldn't help but watch his throat move as he swallowed a sip of wine and you took a sip yourself, then set the glass down.

"What is my favorite color?"

"Red. Something else."

"Brand?"

"Prada. Something real (Y/N)." Chan leaned further into the cushion. You were right at eye level, and you wondered…

"Does it bother you I'm taller?" You changed the subject so fast he nearly got whiplash. You genuinely were curious. You were tall for a woman anyway, let alone when you did wear heels, and some guys didn't care for it.

"Height doesn't play into what matters, baby-girl." His slightly cryptic answer intrigued you, but you moved back to the previous topic.

"What's my favorite book and why?" He sighed, huffing a laugh at your shift back.

"You tell people it's 1984 because of the psychological implications behind it, but your favorite is actually Dragon Rider because it got you into fantasy. You read it eight times in elementary school, and you have a signed copy." Chan grinned at your bewildered expression. Once again, in any other situation that would be creepy as hell that he knew, but three years of observation would key him in.

"Okay, smart guy," you picked your glass back up, slinging your legs up under you on the couch, facing him.

"Why do I currently not have a boyfriend?" That was something you couldn't just say, it had to be observed.

"You hate romance. Flowers, chocolates, a fancy meal. You hate it, but because you like fancy clothes and jewelry, men think you lean that way. You'd prefer a movie date at home or going horseback riding." Shit, that was a little creepy. More so that he knew you so well, it was like he could see into your head, that kind of creepy. Not that he was a creep. Chan nearly cackled as he giggled at your bewildered expression, and you whined. Why was he that cute?

"Why are you that cute?" You accidentally spoke your thoughts aloud and you immediately froze, since he did too.

"I'm cute?" He managed to get out after you both sputtered for a few seconds.

"W-well, I mean-"

"I'm cute?" The simple inflection change completely shifted the meaning of his question.

"You think I'm cute?" You whispered and he set his own glass down, then took yours so he could do the same. He shifted down the cushion, so his knee touched yours. Chan leaned in and you clenched your jaw to remain strong. Don't kiss him, don't kiss him, don't kiss him.

"Baby-girl, if I didn't do you really think I would still be watching you ten hours a day, every day?" Oh. That was a good point. Chan crooked a brow, waiting for an answer or something, don't kiss him.

"You want to kiss me that bad?" he finally asked, and you jolted back, eyes leaving his mouth and shooting up to his eyes.

"What?! No?" Your voice cracked and he pressed his pretty lips together, so he didn't laugh at you.

"So, you don't want me to?"

"I never said that-" He caught you. Literally. You had tried to reel back so you could get off the couch, but his hand grabbed your wrist. It was gentle, but tight enough that he could yank you back to him, and he swallowed the squeak he pulled out of you. Your body melted, all the tension from the earlier attack as well as the sexual kind that had been quickly taking your body over, left. The kiss grew from a low heat to a full inferno rapidly. Your jacket was shed, then your necklaces and bracelets, and as his tongue crept into your mouth, you clawed at his shirt. Your fingers unevenly scratched at his skin through the fabric since about half of them were broken. You both panted when he pulled back. He slightly shoved you down so your back hit the cushion and he sat up more on his knees and you watched with glee as his shirt came off. Fucking hell, he was perfect.

"Oh my god." You gasped and his smug grin twitched briefly in bashfulness, but he composed himself.

"Let me see you, baby-girl." He easily held himself up over you as his body nestled above yours, his strong jean-clad thigh jammed between your mostly bare legs. He kissed you again as his fingers easily plucked the buttons of your shirt open and he pulled you up by the shirt. As you sat up, you yanked the shirt out of where it was tucked into your shorts and then tossed it away before falling back. The micro-fiber was a much nicer feeling than what could have been cold leather. You shivered when his calloused hands ran over the smooth and soft skin of your sides and tummy. His nose ran over your collar bone, and he nuzzled the swell of your breasts where they sat in your plain nude bra. If you knew you were going to get fucked that night, you would have worn something much sexier.

"Don't worry, it's coming off anyway." It was like he could read your mind and you yiped in shock as he unfastened the front latch so quickly it was like he did it telepathically.

"You wear them with a front latch because you can't reach around your back from when you hurt your shoulder in middle school." He really did know you well. You just blinked but then Chan forced a mewl from you as his strong thigh pressed hard into your covered mound.

"Focus, baby-girl." His voice had lowered even further, and it made you shiver. Strong hands gripped your ass over your shorts, pulling your hips to grind on his leg as his mouth met yours again. You whimpered through the kiss, goosebumps raising on your skin as the button of your shorts easily slipped open, the zipper was pulled down, and then your pants were soaring through the air somewhere you cared not.

"These are already torn…" He justified as he grabbed the hem of your pantyhose and easily ripped them to literal shreds. Chan let the remnants fall to the floor and you felt your slick through your panties against your bare thighs. At least your panties were a cute lacey purple and not just plain nude.

"You're absolutely stunning." He praised, hand running up your thigh so he could hitch it against his hip. Chan rolled his hips, and you squealed at the large bulge in his pants pressing to your barely covered cunt. If he felt that big through jeans, what the hell was he hiding? He chuckled where your hips jumped to get another brush of friction, reaching into his back pocket. As he pulled the foil package from his pants you snatched it from him.

"Planning this?" You tried to tease him, but his gaze darkened.

"Oh, baby-girl, I've wanted to fuck you for two years now." The man declared. You turned the packet over to look at the label, making a mental note at the size, then you looked at him coyly.

"You clean?"

"Yes?"

"Good." You tossed it behind your shoulder, then grabbed his belt loop, pulling him to you as you sat up. You smirked up at him, head tipped back so you could look him in the eye.

"Can you really feel me like you want through a rubber?" He swallowed hard, all that confidence from before seemingly to leave, then rushed back.

"Not even fucking close." He admitted, pushing you back down and starting to lay open mouth kisses against your neck. He sucked hard, his teeth nibbling the flesh and you shuddered with a delighted whine.

"We can put my pill to the test." You teased and he groaned, kissing down your chest. His mouth sealed over your nipple as he wrestled his jeans off and you exhaled in bliss as his fingers rubbed at your folds through the fabric still covering them.

"You care about these?" He snapped the hem of the undergarment. You did, but you really wanted to watch him tear them up more.

"Nope." You popped the 'p' and the lace ripped and joined your other items of clothing somewhere behind him. You yelped when his hands grabbed your waist and shoved you up the sectional, so he had room to lay on his stomach. Before you got the chance to prop yourself up on your elbows, his tongue ran up the folds of your pussy and his nose brushed your clit.

"Fuck!" You tossed your head back, body twitching as he decided to bury his tongue inside you. He groaned at your taste, hands roughly grabbing the backs of your thighs. He rolled you back, holding your legs apart and up as he mouthed at you like a man starved. Your little mewls and squeaks flew out between heaving breaths, and you felt his grip tighten, knowing he would leave bruises. When he let go of your left leg, he made sure you rested it on the back of the couch, and then his finger pressed into your twitching cunt.

"You’re drippin’." He chuckled, then added another finger and your whole body seized. Expertly, he crooked his fingers up, the ends pressing against your cervix and with a final lick to your clit, you came. He eagerly helped you ride out your high, then cleaned his fingers off with his tongue as you panted for air. Your forearm was slung over your eyes as you came back to earth, and you only moved your arm to watch as he removed his final garment. You hadn't even got a chance to look at him in just his boxers, but there he stood in absolute glory. His cock stood proud, arching up toward his toned stomach and you heaved yourself up so you could see him better.

"Oh~" You giggled, wrapping your fingers around his cock and he groaned at the feeling. You bit your lip, eyes meeting his giddily, then you swallowed the tip, whining at salt of his pre.

"(Y/N), baby-girl~" He tossed his head back as you took more of him into your mouth. He was thick, your jaw protesting a bit, and you still had a good few inches to go when the head hit the back of your throat. Your eyes flicked to his again, and you made sure to watch his face and you kept going, only gagging slightly as your nose pressed to his groin.

"Oh, fuck." He nearly whimpered, hands gripping your hair, then loosened his grip. He groaned as you bobbed your head, breath harshly moving through your nose as his cock filled and left your throat. His hips jumped and the sudden movement made you gag a bit harder, but it made your cunt clench as well.

"Shit, sorry!" He panicked, but you pulled off slowly, giving him your best boba eyes.

"Wanna keep going?" You hoped your intention was clear and he didn't even hesitate. The hands still in your hair pulled you back onto his cock and you sat like a good girl as the fat head of Chan's dick battered your throat. Your eyes rolled back, loving not just his rough movements, but the pretty noises leaving his mouth.

"Hm, you want me to cum down your throat, baby-girl?" Chan's hips jerked unevenly, and you could feel his dick pulse on your tongue. You hummed and nearly wiggled with glee as he pressed your nose hard against his lower stomach and painted your throat white. You eagerly swallowed each pump and drop, and he mumbled something about wondering why he waited so long to have you. Only half-softened, he pulled out of your mouth, and you licked the rest off his release of your lips. You didn't even get the chance to give him a smug grin before you were flipped over onto your stomach, and he heaved your hips up.

"Tell me if I do something wrong." His comment seemed odd, but it seemed he really did know you well. You gasped a moan as his hand smacked your ass, the skin stinging, and he could see your empty cunt clench around nothing.

"You want daddy's cock?" His thumb ran through the slick of your folds, and you trembled. There was a very specific reason you only called your father 'papa'. You only wished you had found Chan sooner to actually put it into practice.

"Fuck, yes, daddy!" You squealed in joy, hiccupping when his other hand slapped your other ass cheek.

"Get ready, then baby-girl." You were ready mentally, but your pussy wasn't. Your cunt burned as he buried his fat cock into you with one thrust. You reveled in the sting, craved it, and your already tight walls clenched around him hard. Even if he wasn't fucking you from behind, you were sure he was long enough to fill you completely, the tip nestled tight against your cervix.

"Fucking hell." You sighed, nails digging into the thick fabric of the couch. He let you get used to the stretch, but you just wanted him to move, you were even getting antsy.

"Move, please." Your wiggled were stopped with a hard spank. You yelped.

"Daddy, please." You corrected and he ran his thumb over the reddening skin.

"Sure thing, love." Your cunt tried desperately to keep his cock inside, and a few drops of your wet landed on the couch. Your breath left you when his hips snapped, fucking back into you hard and fast, his pace not letting you catch it back. He loved the little mewls and grunts he was literally fucking out of you. Your cheek was pressed to the cushion, drool already pooling from the corner of your mouth. He had waited too long to take you, he decided, and he was going to make up for the lost time.

"Ch-chan, fuck!" Your orgasm was cresting fast, a familiar burn rising with your orgasm. Spank!

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna-" Your breath shuddered as your orgasm hit and he slowed his pace some, grinding his cock into you as your pussy spasmed.

"Oh, baby-girl~!" He groaned as your cunt squirted even more slick onto his groin and balls, even both of your thighs. You slumped after what seemed like minutes and heaved for air, but he wasn't anywhere close to done. Your near scream as he started to pummel his hips against your ass again went straight to his head. He leaned over you, hands near your shoulders. Normally, he was used to leaning over a girl quite a bit, but his hands fell to the sides of your shoulders rather than your head, your body just as long as his, legs even longer. Despite the small height difference (in your favor), you felt small under him, he had broad shoulders and thick muscles, and an even thicker cock. The hard and deep thrusts turned shallow, his dick barely leaving your cunt but battering it at the same time, bringing you up to and over another orgasm fast.

"So deep, daddy~" You nearly cheered, and he found your weakness. He pressed his hips into yours, barely moving them and you gasped, a fourth orgasm already approaching. He felt your walls clench harder and you felt your pussy start to sting, but you needed to fall apart again. It was too much for him then, your raw heat and gummy walls begging him to pump you full.

"Gotta test that pill." He mumbled, then groaned as he finally fell over as well. The sticky heat of his cum filling you, so much it spurted out from around where your bodies met, pushed you over the edge as well. Your head swam from the force of your final orgasm, stars dotting your vision. As he panted for air over you, he watched your eyes flutter; you were wiped out.

"I'll let you sleep over, baby-girl. Gotta rest for when I fuck you stupid tomorrow morning."

Master-Master List

Stray Kids Master List

[onedeadkitty]

Mizus Gender

He/him they/them she/her pronouns for Mizu

I know the writers of the show wrote blue eye samurai with Mizu as a woman disguised as a man in a way similar ish to Mulan but uh

They accidentally made it deeper than that ??

If you removed like 2 lines of dialogue in episode 5 you could even make an argument for trans masc Mizu. Or at the least gender queer.

Being transgender is not a concept in this time period. But trust. People have always wanted to be other genders, probably for the entirety of human history. And how someone would go about being trans in a world with no true understanding of the concept, might be similar to what Mizu IS DOING RIGHT NOW.

Living as a man. PERMANENTLY. Not temporarily to achieve some near goal like Mulan and the many other stories with this concept. Mizu has lived as a man nearly their entire life and no intention to ever live as a woman in the future.

Mizu admires their freshly binded chest in the mirror as a teen.

When alone Mizu refers to himself as a man.

When alone with Ringo, (someone who knows the secret) Ringo also refers to Mizu as a man.

Mizu threatens to straight kill Ringo at the the very use of the word “girl”.

When, and ONLY when seeing 2 MEN kiss does he think of Taigen.

Not to mention madame Kajis indelicate insinuation of gay sex to Mizu, something I believe wasn’t for no reason. OR Madams iconic line “you are more man than ANY come through my door” (I’m convinced she has an idea of Mizus true sex but doesn’t care to accuse or call them out for it)

They HAD lived as a woman in the past. Only for about a year, and they did it to get married for her mothers sake. To save her from a life of prostitution. She was able to be happy, because it IS POSSIBLE to be happy while not presenting how you like. It’s a strain and some can never be happy doing so but it’s possible and people do it all the time to make their lives easier or to keep the peace with family or for many other reasons.

Episode 5 gave HUGE VIBES of going back into the closet when living with your parents or just visiting. And Mizu looked SO uncomfortable and awkward in woman’s clothing and doing “wife things” (partly cause they have never done that before) and maybe it was my own projecting but I felt so uncomfortable FOR Mizu.

These things don’t necessarily mean being a transgender man specifically. Gender is actually really complicated and has ALOT to do with what society deems it.

Mizu is a masculine person. Being what Japan wants women to be isn’t in line with what Mizu is. A violent, practical, stoic, cold, masculine, confident and capable warrior.

dressing up as a woman with the makeup ONLY to try and make her husband happy. She didn’t WANT to. “To soften her husbands heart, the bride… danced” performed femininity FOR HIM. Only for Mikio to betray her for, in his eyes, being more masculine than him, by beating him in a physical fight.

Mizu is both the ronin and the bride. Mizu will be whatever they need to in order to achieve their owed deaths. They HAVE to be a man to get their revenge but that doesn’t mean Mizu WANTS to be a woman. (To be fair who WOULD in that time but I digress) and it doesn’t mean they WANT to be a man. They WANT their revenge. Everything is secondary to that.

Mizu is so different from other characters…

I grew up in a kinda misogynistic place and my mom really didn’t let me “do boy stuff” or dress masculine in any sense until my late teens. I my self don’t know if I can even call myself Trans. But I’m masculine, I like looking like a man and dressing as one but I don’t WANT to be a man necessarily. But I don’t WANT to be a woman. I feel like we as a society put to much distinction between the two and the people who don’t fit either side get left out at times.

Mizu is such a relatable character to me, like no other characters complicated feelings about their own sex and gender have ever come close.

They are for those who don’t have a strong sense of their own gender. Especially those who are biologically female and hesitant to lean into their sex because of the societal baggage.

Once people realize that how you dress, how you act, and what you do in reality have nothing to do with your bio sex and everything with what society has forced people to do based on factors out of our control is the day we can finally stop having these conversations.

Do what you want, gender is fake.

But Mizu is forever 🫶

[mikuni14]

I Hear The Sunspot - Ep 10

I won't lie if I say that series that create dramas out of nothing, creating problems and scenarios that are far removed from the ordinary lives of millions of people around the world, kind of annoy me 🙃 Kohei and Taichi's relationship is getting more and more weird and unnatural, and they had such a good flow in episodes 1-6. Taichi, who didn't allow any bullshit and openly confronted Kohei and everyone he met, is now unable to communicate. Kohei, who had a tendency to blurt out confessions about his feelings, is now unable to communicate. We also had scenes of them being shy, hiding, which were eventually resolved by contacting/meeting/ even visiting home, and we keep going back to the same point over and over again. Although that's not even it: I complained about the repetition, but now they're back to a point where they never even were. Besides, I really have the impression that the series creates artificial drama, the lack of communication has reached astronomical proportions, they either do not talk to each other AT ALL, and when they meet for a second, when they are not with Maya, they barely talk about important stuff, which was not a problem for them before. They cannot talk, they cannot make an appointment and meet with each other alone like adults, they do not use phones, they cannot get rid of Maya for 5 seconds.

I am generally furious with Kohei that he cannot once and properly put Maya down for her words and behavior towards Taichi, if someone spoke shit like that about someone I like - not even my close friend or crush, and someone like that is supposedly Taichi for Kohei - we would have a serious conversation about it: either stay and shut the fuck up, or leave.

I absolutely hate how Maya described Taichi not knowing him at all and how Kohei immediately thought of it when he saw Taichi making a decision about his life, career and future. What the actual FUCK. Am I the only one who sees Taichi's life as being quite lonely and supporting himself and going to college and working and helping Kohei? And how he has to think about himself and his future because he has no supportive parents and no one will do it for him? How can anyone even think of him as doing it all thoughtlessly or on purpose? Or that he "abandons Kohei" because he is a stupid and cruel person who never cared? ☹

What is the point of this BL at all, since there has been no BL for the last 4 episodes, and the main characters are drifting further and further away from each other with each episode. Why don't they struggle with all these adversities, problems TOGETHER. What is the point of all this, since there is no "togetherness" in it! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

I just... I just love Kohei so much and he seems very lonely to me now. I started shipping him with Chiba-kun ngl, with whom he currently has the most chemistry and scenes lmao

On the one hand, it's not so good that the grandfather isn't more helpful and advising on the young man's important life decisions, on the other hand, the fact that he doesn't make a drama out of these decisions is a big relief for him 😊 Even if Taichi makes a bad decision, he'll have a place to go back to and he'll have the support of his grandfather, who won't make him feel bad about it or say "I told you so". Taichi is still young, he can do whatever he wants, he can go back to college someday, these are no longer the times when people had to make the most important life decisions before the age of 25, which were also irreversible. I think it was a good scene.

But what's worst about all this is that the series got itself tangled up in its own plot, because we don't have a single hint since ep 6 that Taichi is responding to Kohei's feelings, so this whole drama makes no sense. Since they have nothing in common romantically, if they want, they can meet up after work/school (although they haven't managed to do that yet lol) as friends, write to each other (also something they can't do) and live their own lives. Kohei can meet up with Maya since he prefers her company anyway, and Taichi can pursue his career. After all - there is no BL in this BL, so why the drama?

This show has become such a mess. But it would still be a "managable" mess if Kohei and Taichi had more than one scene per episode where something actually happened between them. And we didn't even have the aftermath of the famous "what if I didn't hate it". Like it never happened...

[gloomwitchwrites]

Frozen Ground: Part 2 (Din Djarin x Female Reader)

Content & Warnings: Mandalorian culture, romantic fluff, breeding kink / undertones, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (it’s fantasy, wrap it up), creampie, multiple positions, happy ending

Word Count: 5k

Din travels to a farming planet to recruit a reclusive group of Mandalorians to help retake Mandalore. The snowy season is starting, and the locals are preparing for their winter observance. While waiting for the Mandalorian covert to come to a decision, Din spends time with the local population, finding a bit of comfort with a particular someone.

A/N: Part of the Winter 2023 Collection

Part 1

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: cyar’ika – darling / sweetheart ka’rta beskar – iron heart mesh’la – beautiful ner dala – my woman riduur – partner / spouse

That evening, after everyone eats, another meeting is held.

Din does not speak during the entire discussion. Right now, his voice is not wanted. They’ve heard him, and they must decide as a covert whether to follow him to Nevarro.

He leans against a wall at the back of the communal area. Grogu is at Din’s feet and periodically reaches out to him with one arm, indicating he wants another berry. Din fishes out the little fruits and hands them one-by-one to Grogu who eagerly stuffs each round berry into his mouth. His little, three-fingered hand is dripping with juice, and the area around his mouth is stained a deep red.

Crix and Jido are with them, standing off to Din’s left, watching the whole affair just like Din. Even though the two men are only acquaintances, their presence is comforting. Mandalorians are strongest together even if they come from different tribes.

So far, most of the meeting has been spent debating. Whoever wants to speak is allowed to, and everyone else must listen without interrupting. Every voice must be heard, which is difficult for any Mandalorian. It is in their nature to act, not to sit around in philosophical thought.

A male Mandalorian in golden armor sits down. Another stands to take his place, beginning their monologue.

Crix leans toward Din and Din turns his head slightly in acknowledgement. “She’s pretty,” murmurs Crix.

“Who?” asks Din flatly, knowing exactly who Crix is referring to.

“Really?” snorts Crix.

Din runs his tongue along his top teeth. “What about her?”

Crix leans in a bit more, lowering his voice. “You should approach her.”

What would be the point? You are not Mandalorian. There is no future there. Din grits his teeth, his hand forming into a fist as he tries to calm himself. Not having you, knowing that he cannot be with you, is a gut-punch. The Way of the Mand’alor always comes first.

“Why?” Din keeps his tone neutral. “She is not Mandalorian. How would that work?” The words coming out of his mouth feel hollow. Din is almost resentful of them.

Crix laughs softly, and one of the nearby Mandalorians listening turns around abruptly. Crix waits until their attention returns to the middle of the room. “Why should it matter whether she is Mandalorian? Several of our tribe were once members of the very same farming community. To walk the path of a Mandalorian is often a lonely one. Why not make it a bit less so?”

Din shakes his head, not understanding. “This is common for your tribe?”

Crix shrugs. “Yes. Is it not with yours?”

Din steps around Crix’s question by asking one of his own. “But you don’t remove your helmets?” Even with the helmet on, Din can sense the confusion on Crix’s end.

“I’m not sure what life is like for your tribe,” says Crix slowly. “For us, we only remove our helmets in front of immediate family. That includes our riduur and our younglings.” Crix glances down at Grogu and adds, “or foundlings.” He sighs. “This is the Way.”

Jido, who has mostly been quiet this whole time softly repeats it back.

Crix nudges Din’s arm with his elbow. “You don’t need to remove your helmet to make a youngling.”

The very idea of Din doing such a thing with you warms him everywhere and sends blood rushing to his groin. He needs to stop focusing on this and focus on the betterment of all Mandalorians.

The same Mandalorian who turned around minutes ago does it again, glaring behind their helmet.

Din pays them no mind, returning his attention toward the middle of the room. There are plenty of members of the tribe who vehemently disagree with returning and many more who wish to go. Each Mandalorian who stands and speaks has a solid point. They all have a clear and thoughtful response to Din’s message.

And nothing is solved. No one comes to an agreement.

Din will be here longer than expected if this the rate they’re moving. He hasn’t even contacted Bo-Katan to give her an update. What can he tell her? That he has made no progress?

When the covert ends discussions and begins to break apart, Din picks Grogu off the floor, tucking the foundling close to his heart.

“Sleep well, Din Djarin,” says Crix, tipping his helmet in a goodbye. “I’ll come by in the morning.”

Crix stays true to his word, and this time, Din brings Grogu with him. Jido, Ran, and Cerra all tag along as well. They respectfully keep their distance, mostly focusing on walking the streets and keeping an eye on the settlement.

Snow falls in light swells from the sky, and covers the tops of the buildings. Grogu coos, his little hand reaching toward the flakes as he tries to catch them. Every time he does, and he draws his hand to his face for a look, the snowflakes have melted.

Grogu’s ears droop as he presents his hand to Din.

“You run too warm. Melts when it touches you,” replies Din to Grogu’s silent question.

Grogu’s head tilts to the side and then he’s back to watching the falling snow.

Crix draws up to Din side. “Are you going to approach her?”

Din sighs, unsure of how to answer. He wants to, but his obligation to his tribe and his people gives him pause.

Crix nods at Din’s silence, and then tips his helmet toward the right. “Whatever you’re thinking about, decide fast because she’s heading your way.”

Din immediately straightens, his helmet pivoting to locate you. There is a soft, unsure, almost demure smile on your face.

“Is this little one yours?” you ask.

“This is Grogu.”

At the sound of his name, Grogu perks up, his ears flaring slightly.

“Hello, Grogu,” you croon. With delicate movements, you gently clasp Grogu’s small hand and shake it in greeting. Grogu’s coo is a pleased one, and Din carefully wraps this memory up for safekeeping.

You let go of Grogu’s hand and look up into Din’s t-shaped visor. He knows that you cannot see his face, but yet he still feels vulnerable under your stare. Your attention pleases him.

“May I seek your assistance with something?” you ask, clasping your hands in front of you.

“Anything,” says Din automatically.

Crix and Ran snort. Cerra punches Ran in the arm and shushes them both.

You shrug sheepishly. “I know you’re a Mandalorian and you’re used to more…strenuous work.” Someone snorts after the word strenuous, and then Cerra is shushing the other Mandalorians again. “But most of the women who usually help me are unavailable,” you continue. “They have other matters to attend to, and I could really use the help. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

You sigh, relief spreading across your face. It’s beautiful, and Din has to resist reaching out to brush the curve of your bottom lip.

“I’ll take the young one,” says Crix, stepping up to Din.

For a brief moment, Din doesn’t want to hand Grogu over, but Crix’s reasons for doing so suddenly come flaring to life in Din’s mind. Crix keeps pushing him to be alone with you. Deciding to take the chance, Din slowly removes the strap of the bag from over his shoulder, handing the precious bundle over to Crix.

Grogu makes a little sound and then Crix, Jido, Ran, and Cerra are walking away. Din watches them go. When they disappear around a corner, you lead Din to the small building where you placed the necklace around his neck and kissed his cheeks. As you lead him inside, Din sees that no one else is there.

There are only two illuminated lights along with the uncovered window. Under the window is a heater that pumps in warm air. There are several of those canvas bags stacked in the middle room of the room Din noticed the other day.

“I need help separating the flowers from the nettle. It’s time consuming and the young boys who went out this morning to gather it all didn’t take their time. It’s all jumbled together.” Your hands move in the air as you explain, almost like it’s a nervous habit. It’s cute, and Din doesn’t realize how close he’s actually standing to you until one of your wandering arms knocks into his chest plate.

He steps back as your gaze softens. Separating flowers from nettle seems like a vacation compared to Din’s usual work. “I’m happy to help,” he says, meaning every word.

You gaze drops to a point near his waist. “You still have the one I gave you.”

Din looks down at the Daily Strand attached to his hip. “Yes.”

“We replace a new one each day. I can do that now if you like?”

Din shakes his head. “Afterward.” It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to say, because Din wants to say yes. He wants you to put another one around his neck and receive your kisses even if he cannot feel them against his skin.

You guide him to one of the bags, and the two of you kneel next to them. The bags are heavy, nearly overflowing, but Din selects one and begins sorting. He understands what you mean the moment he opens one up. It’s an absolute mess.

The nettle is sharp, even Din can feel it through his gloves, and you’re working without any. He sees the flinch, notices your gentle recoil from the constant poking. You try to hide it, and when your fingers bleed, you attempt to discreetly mask the red that blooms on your fingers.

“Do you have gloves?”

“No,” you reply, shaking your head. “And I can’t seem to locate a spare from anyone. It’s not bad. Really.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Din reaches out but you pull back.

He’s having none of it. Din grabs your wrist and tugs you forward, but the momentum is too great. You go tumbling into his lap. Din’s back hits the floor and your hands fly out to steady yourself, landing on his chest.

The two of you hang suspends like this. There is Din flat on his back and you straddling his hips, hands firmly planted on his chest, your face dangerously close to his helmet. Din’s hands float in the air on either side of you.

You and Din linger like this until the reality of the position seeps in. Din doesn’t drop his hands to his sides or try to lift you off his lap. Instead, his hands drift closer, resting on your hips. When you do not pull away, Din’s hand slide lower, squeezing your thighs. The little sound you make goes straight to his groin.

He immediately sits up, but he does not allow you to slide off his lap. Din won’t let you get away. One of his arms slides behind your waist, securing you against him, drawing you closer. Idling in this closeness, every temptation to run away with you scorches in Din’s blood.

Yet it is you that speaks first. “I’m not really in the mood for sorting flowers anymore,” you murmur.

“I’m not either,” answers Din, his voice raspy and low.

You lick your lips, and his gaze follows it. “There’s a backroom.”

By the time the suggestion is leaving your mouth, Din is already up, keeping you against him. “Show me,” he growls, no longer able to contain the fire burning within his blood.

You nod in the direction of the back wall. Din’s helmet turns and he sees the panel. Din strides forward, legs pumping as he keeps you aloft with one hand while smashing the button for the door. It slides open and Din steps in with you.

It’s cramped, more of a storage space than anything. There is a plain table pushed against the wall, and a full shelving unit next to it. Din deposits you on the table, his gloved hands reaching for your hips. Din is eager. He has you alone.

He moves closer, stepping into the space your spread legs create, sliding an arm around your waist. Din’s helmet dips forward, and he breathes in your scent, sighing.

You are not immune. You tuck yourself against his chest, leaning into his touches, and Din is downright prideful. This is your reaction to him. You are warm and comforting, a small source of light that Din wishes to carry with him whenever he is in the dark.

To sink into you, to lose himself entirely, would be a gift.

Din’s hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Slowly, the tips of your fingers trace the edge of his chest plate. Then, they drift up, running along the edge of his helmet.

“Is this okay?” you ask softly. You do not reach out to remove his helmet. Other women have tried to, and Din always has to draw their hands away from him.

“Yes,” he murmurs, and your gentle smile spurs him to action.

Din does not linger on your hips. He explores and touches, running his gloved hands over bare and covered skin. The skirts of your dress are up around your thighs, and Din takes this opportunity to slip his hand underneath the fabric.

The moment he makes contact with your inner thigh, you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his arms where there is no armor. The way you cling to Din pleases a primal part of him. He wants to possess you, to draw you into himself until he alone can call you his.

But the touch is not enough. Din needs closeness. He needs skin against skin.

Tearing his hand away from your thigh, Din pulls on the fingers of his glove until the fabric gives. He tosses it onto the table, and returns his now bare hand to your inner thigh. You both groan, and Din squeezes your flesh, reveling in your warmth.

He wants to be inside you. His body is blazing, calling out for you like oxygen.

Din’s fingers drift closer until his middle finger parts your sex. The tip of his finger catches on your entrance, and it’s very clear to Din just how wet you are.

Something inside him snaps. Burns bright. Neither of you are leaving this room until he’s claimed you properly.

Din draws the wetness up, dragging it over you until he finds the thing he’s seeking. He swirls the tip of his finger around your clit. Your own fingers dig into him deeper, your lips parting slightly as you inhale.

“Mesh’la,” murmurs Din, as he slides his finger inside.

You moan loudly, head tipping backward as he begins to pump his hand between your legs. The hem of your dress is bunched and covering up his view. The desire to rip your clothing from your body roils up unbidden, and it takes every molecule of control for Din not to follow through.

Your legs fall open wider, and the hem of your dress stretches, exposing you to Din’s gaze. Now that he can watch, Din is unable to look away. He is enraptured with the way his finger disappears inside your welcoming body, only to retreat, coated in glossy wetness.

Unable to help himself, Din inserts a second finger, curling them slightly to hit that sweet spot deep inside you. It pleases Din, but it’s not enough. He rotates his wrist and presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing in slow circles.

It isn’t until you’re clenching around him, whimpering, that Din realizes you’re falling apart. Your moans are sweet, and Din doesn’t stop moving until your body starts to relax. He holds his fingers inside of you while your chest heaves.

“Can I keep touching you, cyar’ika?” asks Din, his helmet dipping until his forehead almost rests against your own.

You nod frantically. “Please.”

Your desire to continue, the need to keep going also fuels his own. Din strokes his thumb across your clit. It’s the perfect flick, and you tense up, squeezing around him. Din is pleased at how easily you fall apart for him.

Din does not pause. He keeps going until the muscles in your legs tense and involuntarily clamp around his hips. Your hips jerk with aftershocks, and you slip, falling onto your elbows as your eyelids flutter with pleasure.

“You’re teasing me,” you groan.

“Am I?” Din asks innocently, his thumb stroking against your clit yet again. He is a man on a mission. He wants you wet. Dripping. Ready.

The only response you manage to muster is another groan, and this is enough for Din. He continues to pump those two fingers in and out until your wetness coats the top of the table beneath you.

If he weren’t wearing his helmet, Din would taste you. He wants to understand your taste, to put his fingers in his mouth to know your flavor. He wants to imprint it on his memory. He never wants to forget. Whether the two of you can truly be together is irrelevant. This moment—this interaction—is enough for Din if it is all he can have with you.

But Din does not taste you. Instead, he coaxes you toward another orgasm, guiding you toward it until you fall over the edge, smashing into the ground below in a wordless, choked, cry. Your back arches, hips rolling outward, meeting his fingers until the wordlessness leaves you and you’re openly begging.

Din gently removes his fingers and holds them up before his face. The glossy pleasure drips onto his knuckles and the back of his hand. While you cannot see his face, Din is watching yours, and the way you observe him through half-closed eyelids, a beautifully lusty gaze settling over your features.

With exaggerated slowness, Din tugs on the hidden zipper at the front of his flightsuit. Once it’s undone, he guides it open, unsheathing his cock. It’s been aching and hard this entire time, and he uses the wetness on his fingers to coat himself.

Your lips part, form a soft o. Then his hands are on your hips, guiding you to the very edge of the table, lining himself up, the tip pressing but not venturing further.

“May I?” asks Din softly, not understanding this odd feeling in his chest. It’s a fear of rejection, as if you’ll take everything back and push him away.

The smile on your lips tells Din everything he needs to know before you even speak. “Please. I want this. I want you.”

At your gentle plea, Din surrenders. You’re so wet, Din glides right in. You groan, your legs falling wider to accommodate him.

“Ner dala,” murmurs Din, thrusting gently as your warmth stretches to accommodate him.

He rolls his hips until you take more and more of him. It’s only when Din is completely inside of you that he pauses, holding there as your walls flutter and flex. It sends Din’s limbs into coiling tension.

Din’s next thrust hits deep. He impales you, sheathing himself entirely. He holds there for only a moment, one hand moving to your stomach to keep you firmly in place as you fall back against the table.

He stretches forward, resting one hand on your stomach while the other presses into the table next to your head. Din anchors himself, leans forward, and groans at the feeling of your body adapting to accommodate his change in position.

It’s kriffing sinful, and now Din understands why the local covert has absorbed some of the local planet’s citizens. If this were his life, he’d convince you to take the Creed, to join with him, and be by his side.

Then, he has is way with you, setting a pace that has you begging for him. You take him in, pussy stretching around and squeezing him. Din is relentless, hips rolling forward and back until the table creaks and bangs against the wall. Your fingers grab and pull at him, and your desperate need to touch him only fuel’s Din’s desire more.

Din’s brain is buzzing, his body screaming for release. You’ve lost your words, the little pleas falling from your lips now transformed into sharp exhalations. But you are wanton, and Din catches sight of your hand sliding between your bodies, fingers searching for your clit. When you do find it, it only takes a few flicks and then Din feels you clamping down around him, squeezing, drawing him further into your body.

“Kriffing hell,” groans Din, grinding forward, his hand sliding away from your stomach to grab onto your hip. He needs to anchor himself somehow or he’ll be quick to follow.

Your hand slips away, and then Din resumes, knowing that his end will come swiftly.

“Say my name, cyar’ika. Beg for me. Tell me you're mine.”

“Din,” you moan, legs locking around his back. “Please. I’m yours.”

Din rolls his hips a few more times and still, creating a seal as he empties himself inside you. His hand against the table slips, and Din goes down on an elbow, trapping you against the table as his breathing become heavy and labored.

The two of you cling to each other, and Din is reluctant to let go.

One of your legs starts to slip and Din catches it, guiding it softly back to the table. You place your hands on his chest and push slightly, indicating you want to sit up.

Groaning, Din slides out of your body, immediately wanting your warmth again. Before your dress can fall over the mess, Din glimpses the pearly white of his release pooling at your entrance.

The skirts of your dress fall into place, and Din pretends like he wasn’t just gazing on the results of your mating. He discreetly tucks himself back into his flightsuit as you fidget with the sleeves of your dress.

Are you nervous? Embarrassed? Din hopes not. He isn’t ashamed of what the two of you did. With gentle tenderness, Din guides you off the table and onto your feet. You’re a little wobbly and Din is immediately alert.

“Did I harm you?”

Your eyes widen slightly. “No. Of course not.” Your gaze drops to your feet but he catches your flustered lopsided grin.

Din simmers with smugness behind his helmet. He returns his glove to his hand, only to reach out and tug on a strand of your hair in a playful gesture. You immediately step into him, and Din sees this as a victory.

“May I have that Daily Strand you offered.”

“Of course,” you murmur, sliding your hand in his.

“The two of you made a youngling.”

Din turns on Crix. “We did not make a youngling.”

“You sure? I can smell—”

Din holds up a hand. “Be careful of your next words.”

Crix throws his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m happy for you. Really. Us Mandalorians struggle to grow in number.”

Crix isn’t entirely wrong. Once the two of you returned to the main room to keep sorting, it wasn’t long before Din had you pinned beneath him, moaning his name. You make him vulnerable, and while in any other situation Din would despise that, with you, he enjoys it. With you, he doesn’t feel judged or unwanted. It’s a different kind of want Din feels with his tribe. They value his skills, but you value him for everything else.

This meeting is just as unproductive as yesterday’s. There is no progress, but Din is thankful there isn’t a regression. After all this, he doesn’t want to return to Bo-Katan without this tribe in tow. They are a fairly large covert, easily numbering in the hundreds.

The next day, Din is right back with you, sneaking off to your private home on the very edge of the settlement.

“Hold on to me, cyar’ika. Don’t let go.”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of his flightsuit, and your forehead rests against his helmet. Your warm breath fogs the beskar with each exhalation.

Din reclines in a large chair with you straddling him, knees pressed into the cushion of the chair. Din grips your hips, guiding them forward and back, gliding you up and down his cock.

Those delicate fingers of your slide upward, curling around the edge of the flightsuit, pulling until there is a faint sliver of skin. Din does not stop you. Your mouth presses against that flesh. Kissing, sucking, nipping over and over until Din is bouncing you on him, his head falling back to revealing more of that skin to you.

Your mouth opens, comes down on his throat, sucking, and Din groans loudly, slamming your hips down on him as he finishes. When you pull away, Din is quick to lift you out of the chair and into his arms, moving toward the small bed in the corner.

You giggle the whole way, and then shriek in playful surprise when he tosses you down onto the bedding. It isn’t long until Din guides you onto your hands and knees, sliding back inside.

He wants to stay here, to linger with you, but he knows that this will end. That he will have to leave. But for now—for the moment—Din will enjoy the time he does have.

That is how it goes. For almost two weeks, the covert debates, and between their debates, Din goes to you, falling into your arms with eagerness. Then it all comes to a crashing halt. It is a blow that Din knows is coming and yet still takes him by surprise.

“We will join Lady Bo-Katan Kryze’s efforts to reclaim Mandalore.” Vikal stands with the other leaders of the tribe, addressing Din in the early morning light.

“When can we leave?”

“Immediately,” answers Vikal. “Within the next few hours.”

“I will contact Nevarro and tell them to expect us.”

Vikal and the other leaders place their clenched fists over their hearts, bowing slightly. Din does the same. As they depart, Crix steps up beside Din, watching them walk away.

“Would you like to go to her?” asks Crix. “Tell her you’re leaving?”

“Is there time?”

Crix nods. “I’ll see that you get it.”

When Din arrives at the farming settlement, and locates your home, it’s a slash across his heart. As he steps inside and sees you there, standing to greet him, Din’s resolve starts to faulter. He is not immediately walking toward you, and as you realize this, your face falls, concern replacing the joy.

“You have to leave,” you say simply.

“I do.”

“For your tribe?”

“For my people.”

You glide across the floor like a phantom. As you draw close, you lift your hand, and press your palm against the side of Din’s helmet. He leans into it, his own hand cradling yours.

“Then go, with all my love leaving with you.”

Din shakes his head. “You cannot give that to me.”

“My love is for me to share. And I place it with you.” Your other hand gently rises and then rests against the ka’rta beskar, the iron heart in the middle of every Mandalorian’s chest plate.

Slowly, Din removes your hand from his helmet, only to press it against the spot where his lips would be if he weren’t wearing it. Din reaches out, draws you against him, the two of you standing in that little room in quiet contemplation.

Din is reluctant to leave, but he pulls away, aching within his heart with every step.

The Great Forge burns bright and hot.

The uncovered faces around Din glow with pride. They are stained with joyful tears. While Din also feels the same, while he also feels victorious and proud of his people, there is one person that lingers in the recesses of his thoughts.

Of the last Daily Strand he received, there is only a single petal left. Din keeps it tucked inside a pocket of his flightsuit, and when no one is watching, he removes it, rubbing the delicate petal softly between his fingers.

The deed is done. Mandalore belongs to the Mandalorians again, but there is still a missing piece within Din. A shape that is simply an empty hole. Bo-Katan told him he is not obligated to stay, but that his presence is a welcome one.

Din watches from the back of the crowd, and decides that he needs to do what is best for him.

The N1 lands on frozen ground.

It is deep winter on Itera, and the snow crunches beneath his boots. The people walking around all greet him like the first time he stepped beyond the wall. Din knows the path. He knows where to go.

When he stands before your door, he hesitates, unsure if he should just go inside. He almost debates turning back, and he does, briefly.

“Din?”

His voice is a question. It is you, asking. Din glances over his shoulder and then turns his upper body in the direction of your voice. There is a momentary pause, a second where everything stands still.

The basket in your hand falls, and then the two of you are falling into the snow together. You are real and warm and wonderful in his arms.

“You came back,” you whisper, your breath turning to steam in the air.

Din tugs you closer, presenting the petal he’s kept all this time. Your lips pull back into a wide grin that stretches toward your ears.

“I need a new one.”

You lean in. Kiss the beskar helmet on the right and then left side. “Is that all you want?”

Din’s gloved hand brushes against the curve of your jaw. “No. It’s not everything.”

Part 1

taglist:

@padawancat97 @foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @garfunklevibes2012 @tiredmetalenthusiast @dameron-grant-spector @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @kayden666 @enfppixie

[what-the-fic-khr]

Hello I hope this ask finds you well! Happy to see the tea prompts again bc they’re so so so cute 🫖🥹

I have a fewww ideas.. bc I just love everything about your writing and I’m curious about your take on rooibos tea w/ Squalo orrr earl grey w/ Hibari (I absolutely adore the way you characterize himshdnshdjdh)

If neither of those suit your fancy, matcha tea with any character that comes to mind for ya? I’m excited to see your posts floating around again and know I’ll continue to love anything you pen for us🫧🤍

waaaaah thank you so much for your kind words, I appreciate it so greatly!!! I chose to do both because I’m in the mood to, and I’m so thankful for the support! I hope these are to your liking!

character/s: superbi squalo, hibari kyoya, reader-insert (gender-neutral)

word count: —

warnings: huh. nothing for once

prompt: tea prompts (rooibos tea, earl grey tea)

rooibos tea; what’s their favourite thing to do with their s/o?

Squalo’s either a huge fan of resting or hates it entirely. for the sake of this, it’s not resting per se, but… he likes to relax with you, very specifically. even if he’s working; being able to actually relax is rare, and nice. watch for if he removes his sword with you around; he likes to do maintenance on it with you around because it’s not stressful, not work, and with you. it’s a sign of comfort and vulnerability

You were complaining about something, rolling around on the floor beside him as you went on and on. He didn’t care much about all the movement; you maintained a good distance so you wouldn’t knock into him.

“Besides, it was stupid to begin with and if they’d listened to me in the first place it wouldn’t have happened at all!”

“Mhm.”

You glanced over at Squalo, stretching your arms out to rest your head on. He glanced up at your silence, and his shoulders slumped. This didn’t stop him from polishing his blade, the action repetitive, calming, like habit.

“What?”

He huffed when you smiled in that silly, dreamy way you did when you were enamoured with something. It still had to take some getting used to, seeing it directed at him.

“Nothin’. You look so nice and relaxed for once. Boss is gonna kick that out a window once you’re done.”

He grumbled something under his breath at this. It wouldn’t last very long, but still. He felt relaxed, for once. The soothing motions of sharpening and polishing his sword was a comfort to him. You rolling around on the floor like a kid was a comfort to him.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere for at least another half hour.” Your eyes started to light up at this, and he almost laughed at the way you started kicking your feet back and forth in the air. “You’re stuck with me until then.”

“Favourite thing to be stuck with.”

early grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

if he’s an adult, he’d be… a bit more normal lol. I think he’d be very careful while getting to know you, but he’d like to show you how strong and reliable he is. y’know, adult in the mafia kind of stuff. younger though, he’d be a lot more… of a loser about it. he’d want to make sure you can also look after yourself in the future with him! so he’d stick to you like glue at school, be suuuuper annoying and stuff. fight, probably.

“Can’t you go easy on me or something at least?!”

“Doing that won’t keep you alive in a real fight, will it?”

You made a loud noise of complaint, but you still got back onto your feet to return to your original position. Kyoya gripped his tonfa a little tighter, nodding to himself.

If you could not even get up and keep training, there would be no point in trying.

There was potential in you he knew was there, and he’d be damned if the one he’d grown attached to would get killed because you didn’t try to get stronger. It only made sense to him that the one who put you through this was him and no one else. No one else would take it seriously.

“Get ready, then.”

You whined, but steeled your shoulders. Your gaze on him sharpened, eyes narrowing, and he felt his lips twitch up into a smirk.

Exactly the spark he wanted to see.

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

Static dances from the Monitor's speakers once more

"Hello again Young one. I am happy you have made a full recovery. I'd wish to explain some things to you if you have the time to listen. I do not wish to lie or withhold information from you like you have no doubt endured before, so please trust in this knowledge I shall be sharing with you."

"The first thing I would like to Illuminate is that no matter what, things revolving the magic I performed for you Requires your consent. Simply saying no to any deals me or my fellows from beyond make will be enough to completely prevent us from acting. Please do not worry about any bad actors amongst this collective will be capable of harming you physically- unless you allow it, we only have words to share... mostly."

"The second point Young Child is the nature of the Deals- They, no matter what, must operate under the rule of equivalent exchange. Other words, if you wish to take someone's eye, you must pay with an eye of your own. The exact nature of this is fluid however, depending on the needs of the situation. For example, someone with a lot of food will find that the value of their food means little- while you, in this situation, would have food be a far large value, both in asking of it and as payment. This technically allows us to cheat a bit- as plushies, toys, or items that have no value to you, cannot help you at all, can technically be give to you for free. Please keep this is mind in the future."

"The Final point I shall make is a warning- you MUST be careful with what you allow and ask. You can never erase a problem through this contract of ours. Think of it as removing one problem and making a new one. For example, you removed the problem of your missing foot for the problem of picky hunting you down.

And I must warn you now- no matter what, things like asking us to bring you to the surface, out of this factory, cannot be asked. The price of those things would at least be your own life- or a fate worse the death. It's simple the value of escaping the factory is so high that there is simple no price you can simply pay for that- I am sorry we cannot do more for you there Child."

"Finally, while this is only a Theory of mine, with no evidence to back this up, I believe that one may only make a wish while this Monitor, the point of our connection is nearby. This may be false, but think it wise to consider this as we move forward. I wish you luck Child, and please, be safe!"

(Hi, I thought it wise to see about setting some ground rules with the magic stuff! Not sure if your okay with me doing so, but I think it's best to do this sooner rather then later all the same! Wonderful blog so far mod- hope I'm not intruding!)

That-hmm. Okay. That makes sense…it is a bit disappointing I can’t use you lot to get outside, though.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Do you have any suggestions on dealing with nostalgia? I’m INTP. Throughout my childhood, there had been a couple of relocations of my family and up to this day I’ve never felt deeply connected to a certain place.

Whenever I think about the past, I would be struck by nostalgia and a deep sense of sadness, as it seems I am never able to keep anything around me. My old toys are discovered to have been stolen (actually they just disappeared and nobody knows why so my parents assume that they are stolen) when I got to return to my old home years after; just like my relationship with my father that grew so distant before I even realised.

I know I could never possibly regain that pure joyfulness in my childhood but it pains me to think in that way. I can’t even remember any experiences in detail except once I was shaking the curtain on a decent morning, and sunlight fell on the scattering dust, making it seem like a thousand tiny fireflies dancing in the air. When I try to grasp these memories, I feel that they are like a dream that fades away too quickly, leaving me with only fragments of it.

I am afraid that my whole life will be like this as well, I couldn’t leave anything behind even after my death, nobody will remember me and my existence will be washed away helplessly by the waves of time. It does trigger me a bit when I’m told that these memories are insignificant stuff that died long ago, and they are of no importance or value. It’s definitely not true. They are like the foundation of my existence, the connection with my past self, and I couldn’t just forget them and remove them from my mind, no matter how small or scattered they are.

I do reminisce on other past events, however I can usually just accept that past is already past and move on. None of them hurts me as much as my childhood. I think this whole thing is about tertiary Si and I could get myself to stop thinking about it when I’m redirected to other ideas, so it doesn’t affect my daily life much, but it shoes up in my head when I see/think of key words that remind me of my past or when I feel down. I’m sorry for dumping all the existential crisis here, I could easily spiral into pessimistic thoughts when I try to talk about my past. I don’t think I’m ready to develop my Si at this point so should I just put it aside and focus on Ne first? Thank you in advance for any guidance.

In addition, simply out of curiosity I’d like to ask: Does inferior Si encounter similar problems as well? How would it differ from tertiary Si?

----------------------

The past isn't insignificant. You're right, it's an important part of you and it has played a crucial role in making you the person you are today. Trying to deny this fact isn't helpful and can make nostalgia haunt you even more.

The kind of nostalgia you're feeling seems to be about loss or grief. It is usually a sign that you are not happy with the person you are today and/or the life you're living today - something is missing. The mental trap of unhealthy Ne-Si is to get lost in "what if" speculation. You start thinking about how you or your life could've turned out better "if only" the past had been different. This is unproductive rumination, not because the past is insignificant or should be dismissed, but because you're taking the wrong lessons from it.

What is the nostalgia communicating to you? E.g. It's very important to feel rooted and connected to the world around you; don't take important things for granted; be a part of the world so that you don't feel as though you have never really existed; etc. The right lesson to learn is to do more to root and connect yourself to the world starting TODAY, so that you don't feel the same sense of loss/grief about today at some point in the future. In other words, don't keep making the same mistake again and again of not fully cherishing everything in your life while you still can. When you're able to successfully exit that vicious cycle of regret, nostalgia will bring you warmth rather than sadness or grief.

Feelings should be accepted and understood. Once you really hear them and listen to the message being communicated, they will no longer haunt you. Trying to convince yourself that feelings are invalid doesn't work because feelings don't respond to reason. Feelings only care about whether they have succeeded in making you care properly for yourself. Until then, they won't shut up. Perhaps you should read the articles about emotional intelligence to learn constructive ways of responding to your feelings.

With regard to the last question, stack position is already explained in the study guides. Nostalgia is a universal feeling, but different types experience it for different reasons. Stack position changes the purpose of the function, so tertiary Si creates nostalgia for different purposes than inferior Si. E.g. The former would be an alert about a troubling lack of Ne development, whereas the latter would be about the need to correct Ne extremes.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 12 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2059 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

And then, I realized what my decision was. I understood that the band was more than just an important project; it was what brought the five of us together, it was the beat of our hearts, and how desperately, truly desperately, we wanted it to succeed - because it had to, no matter what. And my role in all of it was to support them in the best way I could; even if it broke my heart.

✦ summary: Metallica's career begins to advance and Nore makes a difficult decision to help the future of the band.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst (mild), fluff, cliff burton & female!oc (family)

✦ a/n: hello! i'm posting this chapter a little earlier because i'll be traveling over the weekend. we'll be finally seeing a bit of plot development on this one hehe I'm posting at a slower pace because writing has been slow too, but I hope you like it! Feedback is welcome <3

✧ Innocence was our fire / We told the truth / I miss the sweet boys in the summer of their youth ✧

"Alright, everyone!" Lars exclaimed, grinning, and I looked up, curious. "It's band meeting time."

It was early evening, and I was chilling in the living room with Cliff, snuggled up in Dave's arms while he mindlessly watched some random TV show. That's when Lars and James walked in, both looking very pleased about something. I slipped out of Dave's embrace, making him grumble in protest, and stood up - usually, I didn't stick around for the guys to discuss band stuff because it bored me a bit and I wanted to give them some privacy. 

“Stay, Nore.” James flashed me a smile, and I sat back down, surprised. "I think you'll like to hear this firsthand."

I gave Dave a questioning look, but he just shrugged, seeming as intrigued as I was. James settled next to me on the couch while Lars headed to the kitchen, returning quickly with a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses. 

"Are we celebrating something or do you guys just want to start drinking early?" Cliff raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on his face. Lars chuckled. 

"You'll find out if you let me tell you," he said, and Cliff rolled his eyes. "Alright, you know we've been on the hunt for a producer for our album, right? Well, here's the good news: we finally found a guy who's down to produce the album with us."

"Lars, that's awesome!" I exclaimed as Dave shouted excitedly.

“Wait a sec.” Cliff interjected. “You said you were starting with the good news. What's the bad news?”

"Oh, right." James chuckled nervously. "The producer is based in New Jersey. And if we want to kick off the production, we'll have to go there." 

"What?" Dave asked, incredulous. "How? With what cash? New Jersey is on the other side of the fucking country!" 

"Yeah, thanks for the geography lesson, Einstein." Lars replied sarcastically, and Dave furrowed his brow. "Look, don't we have some money stashed from our gigs? We can rent a van and hit the road. But it needs to be soon 'cause the guy wants to get things rolling quick." 

"This is insane." Dave answered. "We don't even have that much money, man. We should find someone local." 

"Well, James and I have already made up our minds. So you can either get on board or we can find a new guitar player." Lars said, a smug grin on his face.

I raised my eyebrows, feeling uneasy, as Dave removed his arm from around my shoulders and clenched his fists, glaring at Lars. I could sense that he was restraining himself from starting a fight right then and there. 

"Yeah, I think we should go." Cliff interrupted, cutting through the tense atmosphere in the room. "Come on, Dave. We've been trying to land a producer for this shit for ages."

Dave looked around, seemingly realizing that pushing further wouldn't get him anywhere, so he let out a frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes. 

"Fine, whatever. I'll talk to my boss, see if he can lend me some cash or something." 

"Great." Lars said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to Dave's discontent. "Which brings us to another question. Whether Nore will be joining us or not." 

"Me?" I asked, taken aback. Dave furrowed his brow once again. 

"What do you mean ' whether she's going or not '? Of course she's going!" 

"Hold on, dude. We don't even have a plan on how to get there yet." James chimed in. "We're tight on cash and we don't have a place to crash. It's not exactly the safest option for a girl. But hey, it's your call." He looked at me, and I met his gaze, unsure of what to say. 

I tried to gather my thoughts, but my mind was in a whirlwind. On one hand, I really wanted to go. I didn't want to be stuck alone in San Francisco, away from Cliff, Dave, James, and even Lars. They had become such a big part of my life in the past few months, and I couldn't imagine being without their company anymore. On the other hand, James had a point; money was tight, and there were sure to be other expenses along the way. It was a risky venture, and I didn't want to burden any of them.

"You could crash at Lea's place while we're gone," Cliff suggested, clearly trying to help. I let out a sigh and shook my head. 

"I... I need some time to think," I mumbled. 

"Alright, then! You can decide later. Let's celebrate!" Lars exclaimed, getting up with excitement and grabbing the vodka. 

I let out another sigh. This had all the potential to be a happy moment, but it wasn't, at least not for me. I felt torn and stressed. Dave still seemed a little annoyed with Lars. Cliff and James were both staring at me, Cliff looking concerned and James examining my face in a way that made me shift my gaze. 

I couldn't be there right then. I needed some alone time. I stood up and made my way to the backyard, running a hand through my hair as I leaned against the porch railing and lit up a cigarette.

"Are you alright?" 

I looked up and found James leaning against the doorframe, his piercing blue eyes staring at me, filled with concern. I let out a sigh. 

"I... I don't know, James. It was a lot to take in all at once. And Lars..." 

"Oh, he's a pain in the ass during band meetings. Forgot you're not used to it," he said with a smirk, coming closer. I chuckled softly. 

"I don't know if I should go," I admitted in a hushed voice. "I don't want to be a burden or disturb anyone." 

"You're not a burden," he reassured me. "You're the best thing that's happened to us." 

I looked up, surprised, meeting his sincere gaze. It always amazed me how effortlessly we became friends, how he had become one of my closest companions once we got past the initial shyness. And how much he meant to me. 

He reached out and lightly touched my arm, appearing slightly awkward. He was so close, close enough that I could see every detail of his face in the dim porch light. I felt my cheeks heat up a bit, not quite understanding why. He pulled me into a hug, holding me tight. I chuckled softly, burying my face in his chest. 

"No matter what you decide, we'll be there for you," he said, his voice muffled. I nodded. "But just know, if you don't go, I'll fucking miss you." 

"I'll miss you guys too," I murmured. 

And then, I realized what my decision was. I understood that the band was more than just an important project; it was what brought the five of us together, it was the beat of our hearts, and how desperately, truly desperately, we wanted it to succeed - because it had to, no matter what. And my role in all of it was to support them in the best way I could; even if it broke my heart, even if it meant staying behind to lighten, even just a bit, the weight of that next step for everyone. 

They were leaving, but I would stay in San Francisco.

I sighed, eyes closed, feeling the gentle pressure of Dave's lips against mine. He cupped my face in his hands, his weight on top of me on the bed as he kissed me slowly. It felt good, but my mind was elsewhere. It was late at night, and I had sneaked into Dave's room while everyone else was asleep. 

I hadn't told him yet about my decision to stay in San Francisco while they went on their trip. I knew how much he wanted me to go, and even though I was confident it was the right choice, I couldn't shake off the anxiety of being away from everyone for an unknown length of time. I opened my eyes as he pulled back, and I noticed his intrigued gaze fixed on me.

"What's wrong?" I asked in a hushed voice. 

"You look worried . What aren't you telling me?" he asked, gently. I sighed.

"Am I that easy to read?" I asked, and he chuckled softly, shifting to lie beside me. I snuggled into his arms, burying my face in the crook of his neck. 

"It's about what Lars said, right? About the trip?" he whispered. 

"Yeah, it is," I spoke quietly. "Dave, I... I think I'm gonna stay."

I didn't know how I expected him to react. I didn't know if he would be sad or angry. But a wave of relief washed over me when he lifted my chin with his hand, kissing me gently on the lips once, twice, three times before pulling away and looking at me with his brown eyes.

"I wish you’d come," he said in a low voice. "But if you think it's best to stay, I get it."

"I think I can help you guys more by staying around here," I whispered. "It's the right call, I think."

"But you don't look too thrilled about it," he remarked with a slightly vexed smile. I nodded. 

"I'll miss you, Dave," I whispered. "All of you." 

"I'll miss you too, babe," he whispered back, placing a tender kiss on my temple. "Damn, if I could, I'd never spend a day away from you." I let out a soft chuckle at his words. "I love you, Nore." 

"I love you too, Dave," I replied, letting him pull me into a tight embrace against his chest. Right then, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world, but it didn't help much when I remembered how sad I was knowing that soon I would have to be away from him.

"Hey, you know what? I've got an idea," he said, grinning, clearly trying to lift my spirits. "Why don't we go out, just you and me? Spend the day together, do something fun." 

I looked at him, a smile spreading across my face as some of my excitement returned.

"Are you talking about a date?" I teased. He chuckled. 

"Yeah, I guess so. I just thought it would be nice to have some quality time with you before I take off. What do you say?" 

"I think it's awesome," I beamed, then wrapped my arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his lips. "You're the best boyfriend ever." 

"I do my best," he grinned, leaning in for another kiss. "But it's easy when I've got an amazing girlfriend like you."

A few days before the guys left for New Jersey, Dave came home and handed me a bunch of keys. I looked at him, puzzled. 

"What's this?" 

"Well..." he plopped down next to me on the couch, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. "Remember our talk about spending a day together? I've got some plans. And… I may have rented a beach cottage for us." 

"Dave! You shouldn't be wasting your money on this," I objected, though a smile involuntarily crept onto my face. 

"Hey, no worries. I just want to see my girl happy. Plus, since I'll be away for a while... I promise I won't let you get a wink of sleep," he smirked mischievously. I looked away, feeling my cheeks flush, and he let out a soft chuckle at my reaction. 

"Hey, you two," Lars called out, entering the room with James. "James, Cliff, Lea, and I are hitting up the bar. You guys wanna come along?" 

"Hell yeah, count me in," Dave jumped up, brimming with excitement, and I followed suit.

Many years later, I would remember that time as one of the happiest in my life. We enjoyed that night as if it were our last; we laughed together, danced together, had fun together, and drank together. Somehow, despite all the unspoken tensions that were slowly surfacing, we remained happy, excited, and filled with hope for a successful future that, at least during that time, seemed like a distant dream.

That night, amidst the smiles and blurred memories of a beer-filled evening, all I could wish was for that happiness to last forever. I was happy. They were my family.

And I loved them.

[angelasscribbles]

In Your Room Chapter 12: Happily Ever After

Series: In Your Room

Fandom: TRR                    

Pairings: Leo x Drake

Rating: G

Warnings for this chapter: None, this is fluff

Song Inspiration for the series: In Your Room by The Bangles

Word Count: 1,331

A/N: Well, here we are at the end. I'm going to miss these two, but they deserve the happily ever after. Tagging @choicespride for marriage and found family. Tagging @choicesjunechallenge for weddings. Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations Pride Bingo for family.

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake and Leo, with Helena in tow, made their way back outside to where their friends and family were waiting for them.

“I made some adjustments, your mom is sitting with me,” Bianca told her future son-in-law.

“Thanks,” Leo pulled her into a hug as he whispered, “I still want to call you mom too.”

Bianca nodded as she hugged him back, “I’d love that, son.”

Leo felt a sense of wonder in his chest. This morning he’d had no moms, now he had two.

When he released Bianca, he turned to his best man, “Thank you for coming all the way from Cordonia, Your Majesty.”

Liam shook his head with a grin as he embraced his brother, “Shut up, man. Riley and I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Besides, I had to return the favor, didn’t I?”

“Wow, I’m impressed. This is more my style than yours, little bro.” Leo let out a low whistle as he took in the moonlit clearing, bonfire roaring on the beach, and lanterns swaying lazily from carefully placed posts. Riley wore a simple floor-length white dress with spaghetti straps while Liam was dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, no suit jacket, no tie. Leo himself had on cargo shorts and a polo shirt, perfect for a casual, and secret, beach wedding.

“Yes, well, after what Dad did to you, I just don’t want to give him the chance to torpedo us the same way.”

“You always were smarter than me. Well, the best man is here, let’s do this thing!”

“I still can’t believe you got married without me!” Drake said with mock indignation.

Liam pulled his best friend into a hug next, “You know I wanted you there, but we had to get married before Leo abdicated and Constantine turned his attention to my love life! It was the only way to ensure he couldn’t interfere in any way. Besides, this guy,” he released Drake and jerked his thumb toward Leo, “was in a hot fucking hurry to get to you, so we were in a time crunch.”

Drake flushed as a sappy grin spread across his face, “Yeah, I know. You’re forgiven.”

Drake Walker was happier than he ever thought he could be. Leo Rys loved him and was about to fucking marry him! The idea that he was about to be someone’s husband was almost surreal, but after everything the two of them had been through together, everything Leo’s father had put them through, it was the happy ending they both deserved. He slapped Liam on the shoulder, “At least you made it to mine, even if your brother did steal you right out from under me to be his best man!”

“Good thing you had a backup best friend I suppose,” Liam teased him good-naturedly.

“Yeah,” Drake laughed, “Where the hell is Beaumont, anyway?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Max jogged up to the group, a little out of breath.

“What’s got you all out of- oh, no, no, man, you better not have just been making out with my sister!”

Max lifted an eyebrow and threw his hands up in the air, “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies!”

“Come on, man! That’s just-“

“She is my fiancée you know.” Max reminded him.

“Yeah,” Liam took Max’s side, “and I put up with you making out with my brother all the damn time!”

“Holy crap, we’re all brothers now!” Max blurted out.

“Heh,” Drake laughed, “Who saw that coming?”

“No one!” Leo scoffed.

“But it’s pretty awesome!” Max grinned from ear to ear. When he married Savannah, Drake would be his brother for real and as soon as Drake and Leo said I do, Drake and Liam would be brothers…which made Max and Liam brother-in-laws once removed or something.

“The girls are all here, so we can get this show on the road now!” Savannah called out as she approached the group of men. Olivia, Hana, and Riley trailed behind her.

Olivia made a beeline for Leo, “Is it true? Your mom is here?”

“Yeah, it’s true, Liv, she’s really here!”

Olivia cocked her head to one side as she regarded him, “You seem pretty okay with it.”

“I am!” He affirmed, “She never wanted to abandon me, my father kept her away!”

“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but that’s right in character for him. I’m sorry, Leo.”

“It’s fine. She’s here now and I’m about to marry the love of my life. I’m good!”

“There’s that dimpled smile we all love!” Olivia patted him on the cheek.

“If the wedding party is ready…” the officiant interrupted, “it’s time.”

“Time to get hitched!” Leo yelled.

“Hitched?” Olivia stared at him with wide eyes as everyone else laughed. Turning to Drake she shook her head, “I’m blaming you for this.”

Drake laughed, his chest filled with happiness, “I will take all the blame! Now let’s go get hitched!”

Liam stood beside Leo as his best man with Olivia and Hana as the maids of honor, because why not have both? Maxwell stood beside Drake flanked by Riley and Savannah.

Their mothers were in the audience, and their best friends and siblings were standing by their side but as they stood in front of friends and family, the rest of the world faded away and there was just Leo and Drake.

Leo and Drake running through the palace gardens as children, Leo and Drake channeling their burgeoning feelings into competition and aggression on the soccer field, the polo field, and the fencing piste. Leo and Drake each struggling to make their own place in the world, all the while holding the other in the back of their minds, and the back of their hearts. Leo and Drake standing in the game room at the palace, both eager to give in to Liv’s dare and both denying that eagerness. Leo and Drake slowly giving in to their feelings as the physical attraction between them exploded and grew. Leo and Drake pushing each other away in a futile attempt to protect their hearts. Leo and Drake falling completely in love over the course of one magical year. Leo and Drake fighting to be together, Leo and Drake finally finding peace, love, and acceptance in the heart of the Walker family on a cattle ranch in the middle of west Texas.

And finally, Leo and Drake standing at the altar, ready to entwine their lives with each other permanently, completely, and irrevocably.

By the time they said “I do,” both men were in tears.

In almost no time at all, the ceremony was over, and the officiant was announcing, “Allow me to introduce, for the first time, Mr. and Mr. Drake and Leo Walker!”

Leo had decided to take Drake’s last name. Partly out of practicality. The Rys name was too recognizable. It was also too reminiscent of the years spent in a repressive environment. But mostly because, with the exception of Liam, he already felt more a part of Drake’s family, more loved, more accepted, than he had ever felt at home. Home. Cordonia was no longer that for him. Texas was home. The ranch was home. Drake was home.

Drake had promised not to smear cake on Leo’s face, but he did it anyway amidst cheers from the guests, the camera snaps from the photographer, and Leo’s laughter ringing out across the clearing. Leo returned the favor as Drake tried to dodge him, his own laughter shaking his whole body. He was happy. Happier than he had ever believed he could be.

Both men had overcome their own insecurities to be together. Both men had made sacrifices for love. Both men had allowed their walls to crumble. Both men had reached for happiness and found it, with each other. Nothing would ever come between them again. They had each other, and that was all that mattered. Happily ever after was theirs.

[the-agent-of-blight]

Aromanticism in Academic Papers (day 4)

It's day 4 of my ASAW 2024 project to summarize a new paper that represents the few works in the body of literature that focus on aromanticism!

Today's paper is: Aromanticism, asexuality, and relationship (non-) formation: How a-spec singles challenge romantic norms and reimagine family life by Hannah Tessler (2023) [stable link]

This paper is another by the amazing Hannah Tessler, who has written 3 papers (at least) about aromanticism within the past year or two. So like. Thank you Hannah Tessler for writing about aromantic people your papers make a great impact on us at least, let alone the area of research aromantic people represent.

This study is a mixed methods study using a combination of data from the ace community survey and aromantic census as well as interviews with aromantic and asexual people. From a quantitative angle, the study finds that alloromantic asexuals are most likely to express interest in romantic relationships, followed by allosexual aromantics, and then aro aces are the least interested. Again, a seemingly common sense claim, but it simply had not been proven in the academic literature until this paper was published.

The results of the qualitative portions of this study are, in my opinon, its highlights. 75% of the interviewees alluded to heteronormative assumptions of marriage and nuclear family in their upbringing. Some people, have had the experience of viewing a set number of options for their future in terms of relationships, and experienced that number of options expand when they realized they were aromantic and felt more ownership over their own future.

Others mentioned how untangling the concept of love from sex and romance was difficult for them when they first had experiences in romantic relationships, and couldn't navigate the differences between platonic and romantic love. interviewees created new ways to engage with other people, removing romantic feelings from activities usually reserved for romantic relationships.

Tessler highlights how aro and/or ace singles challenge notions of family and change their goals from building a future around romance to a future around friendship. Several interviews mentioned themes of creating families in non-traditional ways. To use the words Tessler does, "They are figuring out how to create connections beyond a nuclear family to best prepare for the future."

This paper is amazing. I love it. It accurately and respectfully presents the lived experiences of several aromantic people across many age groups. It's some powerful stuff to read the first time. Though its analysis may seem fairly surface level, i'm going to stress again that academic literature needs to play catch-up. Things that those of us in the community have known for a long time are things that academia has no source for, and thus needs to do a whole study to prove something that to us, seems like common sense. This paper is proof that those of us in the aromantic community need to get more involved in research. If you're reading this, are aromantic, and ever see the chance to be interviewed by a researcher, I beg of you take it. At least fill out the Aromantic Census put out by AUREA if you dont already do that. Every bit we can do to help contribute to research will help academia catch up.

[link to day 5]

[waterparksdrama]

hi there!! i'm newer to the realm of waterparks stuff (only really got into them during greatest hits) and based on the response to ip2 i guess i didn't realize a lot of people did NOT like ip?

when i listened to ip it def felt a bit incomplete/not as strong as their other stuff thematically or lyrically, so with ip2 i was hoping for a completion to the current 'story'. i'm anticipating that ip2 is just a wrap-up, and afterwards they'll continue with their alphabetical titles.

as someone who is more removed from waterparks fan spaces, i'm wondering what do you/other fans generally dislike (or like) about ip & how it compares to other albums? what kind of things are you hoping for future productions? i'm just interested to know! :)

i think a lot of the qualms older fans have with ip is that it’s so consumed by its insane lore that it barely makes sense just even with the first half of the album. it’s all tell but no show with shoehorned references to religion and “hypersexual” lyrics you could probably find on pop radio. not to mention the whole lamenting over fame thing again when he’s not even that famous he just has insane fans who track him online as much as he tracks them.

it’s like. the album isn’t as groundbreaking as awsten thinks lyrically and musically. the way he writes is so blunt sometimes they sound more like tweets than lyrics and sometimes blunt lyrics can work but he is definitely not someone that pulls off the sort of sardonic flat delivery that straightforward lyricists usually have when awsten is over-enunciating each word at max volume. and besides each song instrumentally just sounds like a parx song produced by zakk cervini; like you hear all these big elements that they love putting behind awsten’s overprocessed voice and it’s not really that interesting a lot of the time because of how expected it is from years of listening. and even when they do have more interesting songs like ritual, real super dark, or a night out on earth, they just kinda come off as toned down songs from greatest hits.

okay so maybe to understand where i’m coming from, i should probably make my comparisons of ip to double dare and entertainment. both dd and ent, while maybe a little less instrumentally experimental than their later albums, feel a lot more precise with their lyricism. dd establishes a lot of the themes parx repeat over the years with lyrics about falling in and out of love and obsession and learning the faults of the music industry firsthand. entertainment describes the on and off again feeling of a doomed relationship. both albums use unique imagery supported by a delivery that lets the listener pick up on those ideas (like how i can’t say jacket pocket without sounding like awsten in it follows). everything sounds more intentional than awsten just wailing about how he can’t fuck someone on ip.

my hope for other albums? awsten gets something different to write about. or at least doesn’t repeat the same 5 topics like a broken record or at least find something new to say about these things other than another song about “ugh my fans hate me ugh i hate the music industry im in love with this person actually no im not i lied”. also i think he needs to work with new producers instead of with new writers. i don’t need waterparks to sound like a one direction knockoff i want them to sound like a xiu xiu knockoff (if you can even imagine that). i think vincente void would be a cool producer for parx and id hope he’d lead them in less of the pop tryhard route they’ve been going and more towards something more unique - iz

[tokosparrow]

Hey toko I understand ur profile going through a lot since all ur works are delted so I thought maybe I can send u request to start fresh start hopefully ur doing well 🫶🏻

I was wondering if you could do like semi crossover request based of episode For the future you know in one that scene how willow lost control of her plant powers etc will maybe it reader instead but only scarlet witch powers so I was thinking Hunter x x scarlet witch reader maybe she different type witch and trying figure out her maybe finding the Darkhold and losing control of her powers via corruption (referance to multiverse marvel flim if u seen it I hope this makes sense ) but I hope this ok I just wanted added mix between marvel buys cuz I love scarlet witch u make it angst and fluff it be great 👍🏻 aslo can u add some moments between reader Hunter from new episode instead o willow it’s reader he likes if that makes sense

a/n: sorry if this is very late since i kinda didn’t know how to really put this together but i hope this is ok enough for you to read through :) , i’ve also removed and added a little bit of stuff from the original scene since i’m too tired to go all in and it’s getting pretty late where i live.

info: reader is gn (i only use you to refer to reader so everyone is safe >:))

> hunter will obviously be worried for you after seeing how much stress can effect you and how you use your magic.

> he knows it can be dangerous if driven more then you could handle yourself.

> like with willow, he would try to calm you down withs words of affirmation, it helps but you are still unable to control your magic.

> if he was being honest, he was a little scared seeing your magic be this bad, even bad for you, he just hope you don’t hurt yourself badly.

> “i could do it, i could it..” you say looking at the book ahead of you then looking away trying to take hold of your magic

> he soon found out that the dark hold was the source of your outburst magic, soon he tries to get it away from your hold.

> when he does succeed in this dangerous plan of his, he watches as you calm down from your little frenzy before deciding to place himself on his knees infront of you and pulling you into a hug.

> a very tight hug i must say, it’s almost like a kid finding their favorite toy after loosing for who knows how long.

> he pulls away and looks at you with tears falling down his cheeks, oh now that breaks you so much seeing it.

> “you guys mean the world to me, and i just didn’t know how to say that yet”

> maybe using the dark hold was a bad idea after all, after seeing that hurt face placed on hunter, it was for sure a bad idea.

> “it’s just, if i loose the only person i liked in like… you know… how amity and luz are… i wouldn’t be myself completely Y/N..”

> you soon pull him into another hug, it was maybe even tighter this time as you soon let out sobs filled of stress and huddled up emotions.

> soon calming down enough to speak you look to him, smiling just a bit.

> “i like you to hunter”

[subliminalbo]

10 Years of Subliminalbo

Candice Swanepoel: Mindless Supermodel on Tour Annotated [ 1 ]

Originally published November 26th, 2013

Hundreds of young women were gathering at a Victoria's Secret in Pasadena [ 2 ] where Candice Swanepoel was promoting a new lingerie line, Obedience by Victoria [ 3 ]. Many only showed up to get an autograph and a picture with the supermodel, but a select few were chosen to join Candice in a private meeting after the event [ 4 ].

Once the fifteen chosen girls followed Candice into the room, each one received their very own Obedience bra which Candice ordered them to put on [ 5 ]. When all of the girls had returned from the fitting rooms, they found that Candice had stripped down into her underwear and was waiting to greet them in her own pair of Obedience by Victoria lingerie. Then she began her demonstration. The girls listened intently to Candice's every word as she went over the usual stuff: how the bra gave enough lift to create the illusion of larger breasts, but didn't sacrifice the comfort that every bra needs [ 6 ]. How all the designs, for example her's with black and white polka-dots [ 7 ], were cute and flirty but sexy and mature all at once. And how the bra kept a woman mindless, blank, submissive [ 8 ].

"Each bra comes with its own unique identification card [ 9 ]," Candice spoke promptly, professionally, as if she were reading from a script [ 10 ]. "And the holder of that id card controls the wearer of the bra. As long as I'm wearing Obedience by Victoria, I have no control of my own. However, since I have your cards, I do have control over all of you. Does that make sense? [ 11 ]"

"Yes, Mistress Candice," the girls replied [ 12 ].

"Good," Candice smiled as she looked upon an audience of blank faces. "The bra was assembled in America with materials produced in Pakistan [ 13 ]. Utilizing research that is only legal in Yugoslavia [ 14 ], Victoria's Secret has created a bra that is truly a first of its kind, and a look into the future of the industry. Please refrain from wearing Obedience by Victoria for more than four hours; prolonged use may cause memory loss, catatonia, loss of motor control, and irregular increase in sex drive. If you experience any of these symptoms, remove the bra immediately and consult a physician for you could be experiencing early signs of mind control poisoning. Ask your doctor before use [ 15 ].

"Now, my girls, [ 16 ]" Candice took a breath.

"Yes, Mistress Candice?"

"You're all going to go home, and you're going to find another girl. It could be your sister, your friend, your mother, your cousin, it doesn't matter. You're going to find another girl and you're going to make sure she gets a bra just like yours [ 17 ]."

"Yes, Mistress Candice. We will obey."

"Good. We want every woman in America to experience Obedience by Victoria with us."

"Yes, Mistress Candice. They will submit."

Mindless, the women left the mall and headed home, all thinking about their mission [ 18 ].

Candice boarded the fastest plane out of LA, en route to Milwaukee [ 19 ] where the next Victoria's Secret on the tour was located. On the plane she received a call. "Yes," she spoke quietly into the receiver. "I fitted them all with the bras...Yes, the effect was instantaneous...Of course I'm still wearing mine...Yes, I do nothing but think of you when I'm wearing it...Yes, I will do anything...Yes...Anything for you, Master. [ 20 ]"

[ 1 ]. Mindless Supermodel Model on Tour created a lot of problems for me. It was originally meant to be a series of shorts where we see Candice in different little mind control vignettes, but the idea of a mind controlling lingerie brand was too broad to just bury in a random one shot, so I kept writing about it. I pretty quickly moved to writing fictional characters after this short, but Obedience by Victoria remained an important bit of lore for several years until I just said fuck it and swapped out Victoria's Secret for Fleur-de-lis, creating ersatz versions of the Victoria's Secret models that I'd previously written about. You can read a much, much better version of this story here as Obedience By Fleur #1.

[ 2 ]. Before Romero, I liked to set these stories in completely random cities that I've never been to.

[ 3 ]. Fun with brand name parodies. I thought Obedience By Victoria was so clever for some reason.

[ 4 ]. In my "just writing a quick caption to establish context for the manip" era, these stories start so abruptly. It feels really weird to just jump into something without any groundwork.

[ 5 ]. They aren't even mind controlled yet lmao

[ 6 ]. Incredibly painful to read a 19 year old kid write about women's underwear like he knows what he's talking about.

[ 7 ]. I used to go out of my way to place the story in the manip somehow, but this proved incredibly limiting. At some point I stopped letting the manips tell the stories and today I rarely reference imagery from the manips.

[ 8 ]. This is supposed to be a "murder, arson, jaywalking" joke, but the bit doesn't land because I spread it out over three long sentences instead of one list.

[ 9 ]. Huh

[ 10 ]. Because she's under mind control, you see. Totally unreasonable to suspect that a person pitching a new product for their company would be reading from a script.

[ 11 ]. Weirdly insecure for a mindless drone.

[ 12 ]. Nitpicking myself here but I don't think "replied" is the word choice I would use for fifteen mind controlled girls speaking in unison today.

[ 13 ]. I wonder if this was researched or if I just picked completely random countries. I'm guessing the latter.

[ 14 ]. Oof, most of the jokes in my early stuff just don't land. I've always been better at the melodrama.

[ 15 ]. Pretty good bit.

[ 16 ]. I would also probably not have her say "my girls" if I were writing this today. Just reads weird to me.

[ 17 ]. Not the first instance of serial recruitment in my writing at this point (the sequel to that Fleur-de-lis chapter that I posted the other night has it), but the first that I like.

[ 18 ]. Are they mindless or are they thinking? Just a weird transition paragraph that exists to remind the reader one more time that there's mind control in this story.

[ 19 ]. What even is this tour? Surely there are Victoria's Secrets between Pasadena and Milwaukee lmao

[ 20 ]. This is a Metal Gear Solid reference and it's fucking stupid

[astrogriffin]

Its actually very interesting how much they tone down 6's supernatural abilities compared to the scripts, in the movie most of his predictions can be simply explained by him just inheriting the scientist's memories and not being able to interpret them but in the scripts he just straight up knows the future, like with the plane scene.

Maybe they thought it was too much for the audience to suspend their disbelief? like the alchemy can be rationalised as a poorly understood science (1 does call it 'dark science') which fits with all the little robots running around. but precognition was a step too far?

6 seems to have had a much bigger role in general in earlier versions, he had so many scenes and pieces of dialogue in the early script that were just removed completely. Not to mention that most of the deleted scenes on the dvd heavily featured him, he even predicted the seamstress in one of them.

Funny thing is we never actually see him have any visions on screen in the final film despite that being one of his defining traits, as he has been refered to as a seer and an oracle in marketing and official word from Shane and others who worked on the film.

In the director’s commentary Shane mentions on multiple occations that 6 has visions and that he can see and hear things that the other’s can’t. He even says that 6 tends to run his fingers through his hair when he’s having a vision, which is why his hair has ink in it.

I remember reading an interview or something a long time ago where Shane said that 6 has some sort of connection to a ”spirit world” or a ”dream world” or something like that (I have no idea where to find that interview now sorry). It makes me wonder just what sort of magic/spiritual system the movie runs on, beacuse besides from the vague alchemy we have seen we don’t actually know a whole lot about the worldbuilding in that sense.

I feel like that maybe they didn’t want to go too far with the supernatural stuff right away, and maybe save that for a sequel to expand the world more, but I guess we’ll never know until we get that, if we ever will.