#Tbh the relationship between them is the most difficult thing

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

''After everything, the Hollow Knight's efforts may not have been entirely in vain...''

aaaaaand chapter 10! the grand finale!!!

Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read this fic! Hope you enjoy <3<3<3

[takes1]

NEEDDD AN OIKAWA X SHY READER, she’s extremely quiet until they do certain things and Oikawa is definitely dominant top sooo 🤭maybe it’s like their first time doing it and Oikawa does something (cokes her throat idk) to trigger her loudness and Oikawa being Oikawa he’s gonna be trying anything to get her to be more loud while teasing her

oikawa making quiet!reader scream

tbh i found it difficult to write him as a top, i just love me some whiny loser oikawa. but! it was fun exploring something different so <3 hope it's alright! i also totally took the quiet thing and ran with it

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. sub!reader / dom!oikawa / established relationship / mute?reader / kissy sex / side sex / safe sex / f!rec oral / oikawa has a praise thing / quiet!reader / use of ASL / petnames / light!choking / big focus on sound+speech in this one / 1.9k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN

He was so pretty between your legs.

A new heat crept up your neck and spread across your face, ear-to-ear. You had to look away, you couldn't handle his intensity- not here, with no clothes, undone and needy under him.

The firm grip on your leg reset you. He draped your thighs over his strong shoulders, exactly where he'd been wanting them for months. Now he just needed you to watch.

"Eyes on me, baby," Oikawa dipped his head back for just a moment to press a kiss against your pretty sex, a perfect grin plastered across his face.

Your muscles twitched around his chiselled features- you couldn't get over just how stunning he was in the dim, warm light of his bedroom.

You blinked away the welling from your eyes, a short whine in your throat at the fluttery feeling his confident tongue gave you.

He touched you, ate you, like he'd been considering exactly how for a while.

His tongue was soft and light as he figured you out- searching for what you could handle, pushing and prodding where you wanted. Soon you were twitching, shaking, and having to be kept still in his grasp.

"M-mn-," Your sounds were small, cute; he smiled against you every time he got to hear it.

Most of what he heard was labored gasps, sighs, and cute little moans he'd imagined many times before.

In truth, you had to stop him early because you couldn't take very much of his mouth-- it was getting you too worked up, too quickly.

He rose, strong chin dripping with clear and some animalistic intensity in his lidded eyes.

But he knew making you squirm would only get him so far.

His sweet kisses, trailed with intention and delicacy all the way up your body made you giggle.

When he cuddled up to your side, he didn't waste any time guiding your body how he wanted. His bottom arm wrapped around you from underneath a pillow, his top arm free to squeeze at the flesh of your hip while he took you in a rough and rushed kiss.

This position was so comfy- you smiled up at him and stretched your arms to look at the two of your bodies, how they'd intertwine, and bit your lip.

"You gonna be okay?"

He looked past your eyes, deep into the swimming thoughts in your head about your first time together. It was like he could watch you think in real time.

There was no reason to sign anything but 'Yes'-- he took your hand and pressed a raunchy kiss against the back of it. If that was to hide how excited he was, it didn't work.

A second of distance gave you the chance to push on his chest. He glanced around your face, troubled for a second-- he found nothing but lustful wonder in your eyes.

His bouncy chest dipped into a cascade of perfect, taut lines across his tummy. You brushed your knuckles, curious, over each of his abs and thumbed the dip of his abdomen to his pelvis. You dodged another kiss.

"See something you like, princess?" Was in a mutter, brushing your temple.

Oikawa often got to ride a line of teasing you and requesting the praise he so badly needed. You smirked and pressed a peck to his sharp jawline.

"You wanna--ah-," He faltered, softened- twitchy and breathy, when you took his pretty cock in your hand, "Tell... me-,"

You shushed him. He didn't try to keep teasing you like that- plus, you were sure he didn't mean to come across as so cute and whiny.

Although you had both been with other people, those experiences left something to be desired. He knew that you, especially, needed a good time tonight. There wasn't a single moment that he hadn't been careful about.

He replaced your hand with his and slid himself over your sex, filling the space between your legs, getting himself coated in your sticky warmth. He watched your chest rise with a pleased gasp and grinned.

It was just what you needed. You squeezed your inner thighs as the friction built -or faded depending on how you framed it- your labored sighs quickly grew between needy kisses.

Your tummy was in knots at the feeling of his restrained groans on your mouth.

He parted for only a moment to snatch a condom from the dresser and tear it open with his teeth. You didn't realize how much you didn't care until he did so- but were grateful he made it easy.

He lined himself up and your panting stilled at the new pressure.

Oikawa busied you with a fervent kiss as soon as he felt you tense. It wasn't a cure, but it did remedy what would've been pain. The thought behind it was what really did it for you.

"I know it's not th'same," He muttered, a little slurred, "But fuck- you feel so good."

Your brow furrowed at the intensity of his admission. You rolled your head back into the crook of his shoulder with a shrinking giggle.

He was easier to take, after that.

Oikawa had become an expert on how pick up your small noises, especially in overwhelming spaces. It was almost like he crafted a special device in his brain to detect you. That's why your love was so special; he made space for you when nobody else did. He tried harder than anyone else to hear you. He cared to try.

Tiny, desperate moans on your breath brushed by his ear- he groaned at the sensation and filled his palm with your soft thigh.

It was good thing, too-- your legs were getting far too heavy, you were grateful that he could hold them in place for you.

"H-ahh, mmm-!" You clipped your own sound short with a gasp.

He was quick to catch it, "That feel good, baby?"

Your thigh was squished further up, nestled between his bicep and his forearm- you watched, eyes clouded and glossy.

His veiny hand filled with your flesh, coupled with how good he filled you up, brought another whine forward.

He swallowed a huffy moan, unable to keep himself from provocation. "Yeah?"

That second bottom hand wrapped around your throat to help guide you for that kiss he wanted. But, you found it impossible to return his hungry prodding with the new buzzing that started to grow in your head.

Your body twitched under him, a cascade of mumble-y 'uh-huh's and 'mm-hm's spilling onto his lips.

It made him chuckle. His eyes began to wander to your chest- as did his hand.

However, you found yourself quickly pushing it back, warm and strong on your skin.

Oikawa couldn't have looked more amused, nor any more proud to indulge you. The sensation was leagues better now that he had an awareness over what it did for you.

"Mmmn-! Mm-!" You threaded your fingers through his soft locks while he squeezed and fucked you harder, completely engrossed by how badly you needed him.

Though this orientation was nice for kissing and cuddling and the start of it all, he was slowly pushing you onto your stomach.

Instead of wasting any time to talk about it, you pushed back on his hip.

He let you go at once, confused for a moment, but blindly followed with a breathy laugh when you rolled onto your tummy and pushed your chest onto the mattress.

Oikawa looked down at you from behind, hands squeezing at your hips.

You were face-down on his pillow, your thighs spread and ass arched up, dripping onto his sheets, patient and yearning for him to fill you up again.

Oh, he couldn't do that without finishing early. Not unless he fucked you with his eyes closed. He swallowed a chuckle and settled over you, trapping your wrists above your head with one hand while he stretched you back out.

It didn't take longer than a few seconds to realize just how strong, how heavy he was, when you tried to adjust your arms closer. There was no moving out of this.

The shock made way for surprise at how quickly this made the tension in your tummy grow- you fisted the sheets, squeezing at how his size hit you from a more intense position.

He placed his other hand back around your neck and you were so grateful he didn't try to make you wait for it.

Although he wasn't as rough as he was right before you switched, you didn't necessarily need it to be. It gave you an opportunity to adjust. It was so slick, the pressure just right.

And you couldn't keep your whines down- with his face right next to yours, he was getting an earful of it all.

"Good girl, f-uck," His groan morphed into a half-laugh, half-whine that clipped his words. It took an equally perceptive person to find the vulnerability and rawness to his praise.

He looked almost angry- his focus was so intense it twisted his muscles up tight.

"Ah!" You squeaked, panting at the sweetness and devotion in his voice.

"Yeaahh, A-augh-Mmn, that's fuckin' ri-ght," His words wavered with a stutter pressed firm against your hair. It really did it for him that you enjoyed his pet names. He loved spoiling you like that, because you deserved it.

He was swelling up inside you, harder, much like his strokes that kept hitting you just right. His closed-mouth groans told you he would cum if only you begged him to.

"M-m-Aah!" A sharp, shuddery whine evaded his hand.

He seethed with a groan and stalled, filling your cunt to the base. Your sounds were breaking down the wall he'd built up in his head so he could balance himself on a dangerous edge.

It didn't really help. His stilled hips, driven deeper than he let it before, only made you want him more. You wiggled against the weight of his body to try and get something, but he gripped you tighter.

"Shhhh," He bit the shell of your ear, baited breath as he locked you in this mean, motionless torture.

His body was too solid for you to move- you could only bite the sheets and wince at your delayed gratification. And fuck, was it worth it.

Rough, calloused fingers readjusted around your neck. His whisper was laden and filthy against your ear as he started to turn you out again:

"Let me hear that pretty voice," He barely got it out- he was seething, completely taken with your tight pussy clenching around him.

He was deeper, rougher, but you could take it.

A sting was at your eyes, forcing them shut, from the staggering waves of pleasure he fucked into you. You completely surrendered all resignation about your volume in moments.

"A-ah-h!-!"

Your whole body seized but it did nothing-- he held you so steady through it. You were cumming before you realized what was happening. It spurred a gasp that yielded to a long, drawn-out orgasm.

An unrestrained cry fell from your lips at its peak. It left your ears ringing and gave your partner the proud satisfaction of getting to finish after you.

It left you dizzy, dumb, and forgetful until he was back at your side, pulling you close to his chest and massaging your scalp. You pressed your body close to his as he pulled the sheets over you.

You tried clearing your throat but found it raw and a little painful. You didn't realize he was talking to you until he started rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

He watched your face work as you craned around to look at him and decided to snuggle facing towards his chest. You could feel him chuckling at your familiar, endearing silence.

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@yuchacco

@integers

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[radiant-reid]

Angel

Summary: Based on 14x09 where BAU!Reader recounts how working the case reminded her of Spencer's addiction

a/n: tbh this is trash, just trying to get some motivation back

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Content Warning: references to Spencer's Dilaudid addiction

Word Count: 1.1k

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There are flowers on the table. 

That's the first thing Y/n notices and the only thing out of place in their otherwise tidy house. Spencer's always been a clean person. 

The kid clutter- books, coloring pens, tiny shoes, the occasional Lego figure- that clutter, he's proud of.

Next to the vase is a bowl of pasta in a tomato-based sauce, and she guesses because of that, there's at least one child-size shirt soaking in the laundry with a stain on it.

"Hey, beautiful." Spencer makes her jump with his silent footsteps, followed by sudden voice. He touches her shoulders, massaging them softly. 

She turns around, placing a quick kiss on his lips. "Hey. Missed you."

He pulls her forward, resting his head on top of hers. "Missed you too. Glad you made it back safe." 

Things are different since the bureau mandated Spencer take time off as part of his reinstatement after prison. After the births of their three kids, Y/n stayed home, naturally, on maternity leave while Spencer continued going out on cases with the team. In between, and for most of their relationship and marriage, they worked at the BAU, spending almost every minute together. But this is different. Now, Spencer's the one that spends more time in DC, and in his 30 days not working at the BAU, he does an excellent job as a househusband. 

Y/n pulls back, admiring his features for the first time in days."Sleeping angels?" She checks.

He scoffs lightly. "Not so much." She raises her eyebrows, humored. "Water, bathroom, another story, you know how it goes."

She chuckles. "Oh, yeah, I've heard that song before."

"Love them, though." He adds. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving." She turns to the delicious-smelling pasts on the table while his hands stay on her waist. Spencer's learned a lot while being a dad but his learning to cook has been very rewarding for her.

They move to the couch, needing to be closer than they would be if they were sitting at the table. 

Her smile dimmers after she's complimented his cooking, and he's called her beautiful again. It's an easy difference in demeanor to spot for Spencer as a husband rather than a profiler. 

"The case?" Spencer guesses. 

Y/n takes a deep breath in and shrugs. "One like that wouldn't get to me usually." She tries to dismiss her feelings.

He catches it, having used the same technique many times. If it's bothering her, they're going to discuss it. "It was Tara's ex-husband that discovered a pattern?"

"Mm-hmm, uh, Daryl, he brought it to her, thinking there was an angel of death unsub killing people in the recovery community." She recaps, although he already knows from their discussion on the phone. 

Technically, he's only allowed to know the basic details, not offer advice, but as long as Emily doesn't officially know that the occasional case-solving tip comes from Spencer, it's okay.

"What was his vice?" He asks.

Tara didn't want to spill all the details, but Y/n had made a few assumptions. "Alcohol, drugs later, I think." 

"So why was this one more difficult than usual?" Spencer asks, frowning then it hits him. "Oh." 

Y/n feels a pang of guilt in her chest at Spencer's expression contorting. "No, I don't mean-" She pauses, not knowing what to say. Neither can deny that her feelings are connected to what Spencer went through.

"Comparing the victims to me?" He guesses again.

Her selfishness feels even worse than her guilt. "No. Tara had to give a heart-wrenching speech. And we were in very different situations, her and Douglas and you and I, but it made me think about that time." She tries to explain it.

Spencer understands, and he nods solemnly. "We never talk about that in relation to you." He realizes that it's something he feels guilty about.

"I don't like to talk about it." She shrugs. "Just hearing what Tara said struck a chord." She could feel Tara's pain through Emily's repeated words, and it was all too easy to remember the heartbreak of seeing someone she loved struggling.

Spencer takes her hand, squeezing it lightly. "We can talk about it whenever you want, you know?" 

"Not now." She shakes her head. "I missed you." 

He smiles softly, resting against the couch and spreading his arms out. Y/n rests her legs over his and tucks herself under his arm. "I missed you too." He kisses her forehead and holds her closer. Things feel better when they're all under one roof. "Y/n, it's really important to me that you know how much I appreciate you staying through that. You're an angel, you know?"

"Spence." She coos, touching his cheek softly and momentarily getting caught in his eyes. "It wasn't a hard choice to stay with you and support you through that. I love you, and I'll always be here for you."

He takes a deep breath in. "I love you too. I could talk about how grateful I am for you forever, you know?"

"I know." She laughs lightly, having heard those speeches from him more than once. It never gets less heartwarming.

Spencer shuffles slightly, reaching out to take something off the coffee table. She raises her eyebrows until a look of recognition takes over her features. 

"A photo album?" She asks curiously. "Why's that out here?" 

"It's our first." He explains as he opens it, tracing his finger over the cover page. "Tillie wanted to see it." He finds the page he's looking for, showing her a photo of them. 

Y/n grins, looking at it, remembering the exact second it was taken. "You look so little." She coos, touching the glossy picture of them. They're not much older than 25, fresh-faced, innocent, and dressed nicely. Spencer's smiling the adorable smile he still smiles today. It's stayed the same through every challenge they've faced.

"You've always been so beautiful." He mumbles, stroking her hair with his spare hand.

Her cheeks heat as she taps him on the shoulder. "Stop." She whines. 

"Never." He shakes his head. "You're gorgeous, and I'm going to make sure you know it. I have no idea how I got so lucky."

She chuckles, shaking her head. "I'm the one that got lucky, marrying a genius."

"I married a genius too," Spencer claims, and he pulls her even closer to him like there's any chance she wants to move.

"Can we just sit here a while?" She asks as she relaxes more into him. 

He leans down to kiss her forehead. "For as long as you want, angel."

[ki-yomii]

helloo! could you recommend your favorite jungkook and yoongi fics? thank you and have a lovely day ♡

hey there~ 💛

... tbh i haven’t read too many fics for my boys lately 🙈

i've been trying to work through the books sitting on my shelf collecting dust + i got sucked back into fallout now that the show is out lol.

but i do have some all-time favorites!!

please mind the warnings/tags - you're responsible for your own reading consumption. that said, all of these fics are 🔞

i hope you have a great day nonnie and if you have any recs send them my way 🥰!

JUNG KOOK FICS

the crimson shell series by @angelicyoongie

mermaid aus are my lifeblood istg. and this is one of the best one's i've ever read!! it's dark, it's creepy, it's foreboding - and tantalizing. everything i love about mermaid/siren aus crammed into one series.

you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.

make you mine two-shot by @colormepurplex2

i'm a sucker for abo, and as such, have read a looot of it over the years. its a genre that's very easy to descend into wtf-how-are-they-still-alive-after-THAT territory but this fic does it very well in a way i haven't seen too often. i loved the world-building and set up.

Alphas might rule the world, but Jungkook finds himself being ruled by the need to make you his. Omegas are rare, precious, and pliant. At least, most are. When you present late, well into your twenties, you're already set in your headstrong ways; a challenge even for a commanding alpha like Jungkook. Add to that the centuries-long feud between your families and the last thing anyone expected was for him to claim you as his soulmate.

a sea of indigo series by @foxymoxynoona this was the first BTS fic i ever read... and is a big reason as to why i got into the fandom in the first place. i had no clue who they were before then. i'd heard of them + listened to agust d without knowing it was yoongi 💀 but this fic made me check out BTS RUN and now here we are 🤪

Pitbull Hybrid Jungkook has finally been freed from the fighting rings, and now finds himself at Marigold Sanctuary & Transition Estate, a place for healing and self-discovery for rescued hybrids. It's stupid, dumb, cheesy, and hell-bent on helping Jungkook "heal" and "find himself" and "decide the course of his life." And right at the center of it is Y/N, a nurse who's got everyone bamboozled that she's like some awesome person. She's not that great. Jungkook hates it here.

YOONGI FICS

witch oneshot by @sailoryooons

this is easily one of my top 3 yoongi fics. the world building, the tension, the relationship between yoongi and reader. it ticks all my boxes and vividly paints a picture of this universe. i adore the concept, and love the way this fic is brought to life through sailoryooons storytelling.

For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand. 

desolate series by @angelicyoongie

one of the first hybrid fics i've read for bts 😭 i love my lil meow meow and the set-up for this fic is amazing. it takes a fresh direction with the hybrid trope and builds a relationship that feels organic and progresses very naturally💛

you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

ps. i woof you oneshot by @gimmesumsuga

this one is just so so cute and asjhdjsghfjs!! i adored remi and thought about having yoongi and holly as neighbors for days after reading this lol.

The one with a happy accident of the furry, four-legged kind - “Are you calling my dog a slut?!” 

first and last and always oneshot by @floralseokjin

i'm not one for holiday fics/aus usually but there's something about this one that i absolutely adored. it felt very realistic and drew me into the relationship within the first few paragraphs. the angst is so well done and heartfelt, it made me cry lol.

You and Yoongi broke up two months ago. It was mutual, you’re positive, but there’s one teeny tiny issue... You never told your parents, and now they’ve invited you back home for Christmas. Both of you. You can’t say no, but you also can’t bear to go alone, so you do the only thing you can think of, plead with Yoongi to come with you and pretend like everything’s okay...

go send these authors some love!!

[feroluce]

how do u imagine natasha + sampo’s relationship?

I. Feel a little bad for leaving this in my inbox as long as I did, especially since I said in this post I could write a whole essay on them. But then when I tried to actually answer this, I realized ah shit, I can't really articulate what I think of them at all OTL

(so have a bajillion words of meta analysis of them instead fklajklasjf)

Just! Sampo is very mysterious figure, and we know so little of his background and his motivations! So it's really difficult to get a solid read on some of his relationships with other characters. Regardless, I do think that Natasha is perhaps the one he's closest with, and that she is the one person who knows him the most intimately in all of Belobog.

And a lot of it IS hard to pin down because of Sampo's slippery nature, but also because it's like. If you look at just Natasha's dialogues about Sampo, it doesn't really look like much. It only becomes more meaningful when compared to how everyone else talks about him.

Most other characters just comment on what Sampo does, as in his observable actions that are easy to see on the surface or from a distance.

Natasha is one of the very, very few that actually speaks to Sampo's personality or philosophy. Like she not only is able to describe a certain behavior of his, but she's able to explain the why behind it.

At least part of this is probably that they spend so much time together- Hook even comments on it during her companion quest.

And tbh I don't really think it needs more proof or anything with such a flat out statement like that, but this is actually further supported by the fact that Seele is the only other character in Belobog to sorta-kinda comment on Sampo's personality; if Sampo were hanging around the clinic with Natasha all day, Seele would probably be the person he would see second-most there. Of the dialogues posted further up in this post, Hook obviously sees him all the time, but it's not always in the clinic, and besides she's still very young...she wouldn't have the same read on him an adult would. Luka avoids the clinic whenever he can because he's worried about taking up Natasha's valuable time. And the Landau siblings aren't even present in Boulder Town until after the Stellaron is quieted.

Seele, on the other hand, is extremely loyal and devoted to Natasha, and seems to worry about her a lot. She doesn't have the same reservations as Luka, and it would feel right to see her in the clinic frequently, taking orders and missions and trying to make sure Natasha doesn't run herself in the ground. So it would make sense for her to see a lot of Sampo if he's always in there, too, enough that she would have things to say about his personality, whether she likes that or not haha.

Of course we know from Sampo's lines that it's not that he's sick, he's just reporting back to Natasha. Sampo not only smuggles in supplies across the border like what most people know him for, he's also Natasha's source of intel.

Bringing back intel doesn't necessarily have to involve a lot of conversation though, especially because it would make more sense for Sampo to be turning in written reports. It decreases the chance of Natasha mishearing/misunderstanding something or having to rely on memory alone, neither of which are really things you probably want to be doing when bad intel can mean the difference between life and death in her circumstances. So I do really wonder what it is Sampo does in the clinic all day haha. Given that he's a big believer in the power of small talk bringing in big clients, it's entirely possible Sampo is just in there being chatty, happily making conversation and keeping Natasha company most of the time...which is kinda cute. He also really could just be talking shop, too, of course- Sampo does a lot of work for Natasha, and I don't think it'd be a stretch to assume she's his main client. There's probably a lot to discuss about supply quotas, incoming intel, scheduled drops, etc.

My favorite option, though, is actually based on one of Sampo's options from the main quest, where he says:

Because like! The way he says this, the way he specifies that this is his opinion, but no one seems to care what he thinks? And how he calls them stubborn in particular? It really sounds like Sampo has been trying to get Wildfire to operate in a different direction. And if you look up the exact definition of "artless," you get this

which very much fits Sampo, and how he does things. He has guile and deception down to an art form. Sampo goes on to call Wildfire "do-gooders," but then cautions the trailblazer not to underestimate them because of that- indicating that Sampo sees that type of philosophy as something naive, or at least just ineffective. Something that you would underestimate a person for.

And the person Sampo associates with the most in Wildfire, the one he's always seen with, the one who would hold the most sway to change the modus operandi of the organization is...Natasha.

So I wonder if Sampo has been trying, possibly for years now, to get Natasha to see what he thinks of as reason, and start playing dirty to survive. I wonder if that's what he spends so much time in the clinic for, is because he does care, and he wants her and the rest of them to live, and he has been trying to convince her to go with his way of doing things, but Natasha has been refusing him, refusing to compromise her morals.

Because we know from some readables and from the general Vibe, both up on the surface and down below, that things were getting pretty dire. Rivet Town has fallen. The Silvermane Guards are being whittled down and broken. The Fragmentum was right on everyone's doorstep, and I'm sure that if the Astral Express hadn't arrived- and that if Sampo hadn't set the stage so perfectly, if he hadn't played his part just so- then all of Belobog would have eventually been snuffed out. Sampo had to have known it was happening. He must have known the end was upon them.

He doesn't even have a stake in Belobog- he's not from here. He could, assumingly, call it quits and leave when shit got tough by whatever means got him there in the first place.

And I'm sure Sampo wants to save all of Belobog, but I think he's particularly endeared by Natasha. He famously phrases his view of Elation as "true happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind." And like. Who else embodies that so much as her?

Maybe it is a little vague and up to interpretation, but I feel like Natasha is FULL of that kind of dignity. She has been doing this since before the blockade. She willingly chose to stay in the Underground where she could do the most good. She has seen so, so much death and you can see how it weighs on her; she's become bitter, and wary, and weary. She has it out for the Guards (understandable), and she openly taunts Gepard and goes right for his throat when he shows up in Boulder Town, ten years too late, trying to help with the Fragmentum.

Natasha even seems to have given up any belief she may have once had. She's completely lost faith in Qlipoth.

All of this, and yet she still chooses to be kind. She still chooses to help people. There is something immensely admirable in all of that.

And I feel like you can see how much Sampo admires her in just how often he thinks of her, especially when someone needs help. Sampo smokebombs everyone and needs to get them somewhere safe in the Underground? He takes them to Natasha. Svarog is about to fucking kill everyone? Go get Natasha. He finds the trailblazer passed out in an alleyway? He carries them to Natasha. The trailblazer is seeing weird shit out in the Fragmentum? Recommend they go get a check up. Specifically from Natasha.

It's a little silly, but I think you can also see some of this when Sampo is being melodramatic about being caught red-handed in the museum event. He echoes a very important sentiment to Natasha and Wildfire;

And the mission where this ideology was displayed strongest was titled, "To Rot or To Burn."

(Hell, in the dream sequence of Penacony- regardless of whether that dream bubble came from Sampo or Sparkle, it had to be informed by Sampo's tales of Belobog. Sparkle has never been there herself. And the kind trashcan that immediately helps you and sets you on the right path, that tries to rally everyone together, the only one with a name so clearly and obviously taken from someone Sampo knew in Belobog? Is Shatana- an anagram of Natasha. Even from a meta perspective, they have the same VA. No other trashcan there gets that treatment. None.)

I think they have the same goals, and even hold some of the same views. Natasha's are much more obvious, but still. Sampo says this about Belobog's circumstances:

And he says this as though it should be obvious common sense. That when things are rough, you share and make sure everyone has enough. I think they both share this belief, it's just that they disagree on how to go about making things even. Natasha believes in rallying people for the cause and giving as much of herself as she can to make up for whatever people lack. Sampo believes that if some dipshit with more money than what they need falls for his bullshit and he gets to spread it around? Well hey, that sounds like a whole lot of their own fault.

Natasha is definitely aware of this, and she has no problem threatening Sampo whenever she thinks he's stepping out of line.

She keeps him on a very short leash, which like. Yeah no that's valid fjkdlsajfdklj

Even so, the way she talks about him, like... Maybe it's just me, and my rose-colored glasses, but she doesn't seem to dislike him nearly as much as she could? She kind of just. Says these things as statements about him, without any real vitriol behind them. This is just kind of how he is. She even seems to have a sense of humor about it.

And again! She has so much more to say about him than almost any other character.

I'd like to think part of her...affection? of sorts? for him is simple camaraderie. Circumstances are dire. Past, present, and future are all bleak. Things like that deepen bonds with your foxhole buddies. Sampo is dependent on Natasha for work and pay and a place to get away from the Guards. Natasha is dependent on Sampo for food and medicine and life-saving supplies. They both heavily rely on each other in this harsh environment, and they have a really nice back-and-forth that I appreciate with how they help each other out by owing favors as payment.

And the other part, I'd like to think actually IS because she knows him very well- maybe not things like his past, but she knows some of his personality and beliefs, and finds them agreeable enough. She even has the audacity to call him a poor liar at one point- Sampo! Of all people! Known by someone well enough to be caught out as a poor liar! He's either intentionally leading her on and letting her think she's caught him, or Natasha just really is that good. Neither would surprise me tbh

I think Natasha is also just uniquely prepared to understand Sampo, and is able to see his better sides without letting her judgement be clouded by his slimy manner. She's able to appreciate that his actions ARE extremely helpful, regardless of how he does them.

Even as she acknowledges that he isn't always trustworthy, she does still choose to rely on him and give him chances. She was pleasantly surprised by him here, but she still chose to trust him with this in the first place. She never treats him harshly, and she never seems to bear any kind of grudge with him.

But my favorite example of Natasha being able to understand Sampo? My favorite is this. This one little throwaway line, that didn't even involve him, wasn't even about him. I feel like Natasha is capable of knowing and understanding Sampo on a deeper level than most people can, solely because of this.

She gets it.

(As a fun bonus: In the current trashcan event, there's a simple mechanic where you get one trial character for the initial battle. Then, for the harder stage, you get that same trial character, plus a couple of extras. This is true for every Proof- except for Sampo's. In his harder stage, you use Asta, Black Swan, and Luocha. But in his initial stage, in an event all about friendship and relationships...)

[tanobatcher]

mingle

TCW SQUID GAME AU

commander fox (▵ guard) x fem (player) reader

summary: assigned as player 066, you’ve entered the squid games and made it through the first two days. under the assumption everyone around you is a complete stranger, you’re surprised when you discover that one of the guards is an old flame who disappeared on you a few years ago without explanation. warnings: violence and explicit content (oral + vaginal sex) .. also this is kind of toxic so pls don't mistake this for what a relationship should look like ig idk...it's complicated :) a/n: this one shot is inspired by the squid game universe with s2 currently trending rn. there is def canon divergence for there to be more realistic interactions (😏) between the guards and the players (each player has a room with a bathroom instead of the big common room. like what the guards have in the show. hygiene is very important guys!!) tbh this is a crossover i never expected to do but the idea randomly came to me as i was watching and i thought fox fit the guard persona super well. here we are!! if you’re not familiar with squid game, it’s basically a kdrama where people compete against each other in a series of survival games to win a LOT of money. most of them are in crippling debts or need the money for a bad situation. elimination during a game = death so there's a huge morality aspect to participation and just the overall idea. triangle guards like fox are responsible for eliminating losing players, among other things like maintaining order and making sure people follow the rules.

Blood is strangely dark after it’s been spilled for some time. The color only deepens with despair, staining flesh and fabric like a reminder of every choice that has brought you here.

“The lights are out, 66. You’re not permitted to leave your room at this time.”

Exhaling slowly, you look up at the guard standing before you as the door to your private room swings shut with an echoing bang. Unfortunately, you can hardly consider it up to standard with what a room should be. It’s a sanitary little space, but there’s only a cot barely elevated on a rickety bed frame for rest. You’re more grateful for the bathroom attached, given the amount of other players who wound up in these games. Sharing is not caring anymore. It never was.

“I was just wondering if you had an extra change of clothes,” you explain to the guard, “I…couldn’t get all of the blood off.”

Your fingers find the hem of your sweater as you stretch the fabric out to show him some of the lingering stains from a few hours ago. Getting through a series of childhood games thus far didn’t seem so difficult until bullets started raining from the sky. One by one, you had to watch the people around you drop like flies as their blood splattered across your body. It felt like a warning at the time. You’re next.

“The lights,” the guard replies tersely, “Are out. Return to your room.”

A frown tinges your expression as you register this dismissal. It’s hard to read what this guard is thinking—what any of them are thinking, for that matter—because everything about them is kept hidden. Their bodies are completely covered in their pink uniforms. Their voices are altered through a grainy modulator that leaves zero room for vulnerability. It’s as if they’re robots. Finally, to top it all off, their faces are left to question under their masks. This one in particular has a triangle on his. What’s more striking to you, though, is the firearm in his hands. It’s not pointed at you, but you imagine that it could be. Sooner or later.

“This place doesn’t have terrible hospitality…” you begin while thinking about all that’s been provided already. Food. Water. A bed. A bathroom. And clothes, which you’re really hoping to get a new pair of. Showering feels ridiculous if you’re just going to wear the same, dirty thing every day you spend here.

“…So, I’m surprised you’re not able to give us a fresh set of these upon request,” you continue, tugging at your sweater before letting your hands fall to your sides.

“We’re not. I suggest you comply with the rules,” the guard tells you in a monotone. You don’t miss that he’s taken one step forward, too. Just as his fingers tighten around his firearm, you instinctively shift backward and feel your heartbeat quicken.

“Or what?” You retort despite the goosebumps rising across your skin, “You’ll shoot me?”

He’s now right in front of you, still not pointing the muzzle at you even though you know he’s more than willing to do so. Just before, you and your fellow players voted on whether or not to continue the games. Stopping here would have meant walking away with an equal cut of what’s already been collected from the first couple of rounds. But, just as money makes the world go round, it’s also starved most of the people here. Everyone, including you, is hungry for a chance to collect as much as possible from this opportunity.

But the question of whether or not it’s worth all of this bloodshed lingers in your mind. Hence why you keep voting for termination after each game thus far, earning a red patch on your sweater that indicates your unchanging decision. There were many like-minded individuals who felt disappointed upon seeing that the majority consistently chose continuation. Arguments arose, brawls festered here and there, but the triangle guards hardly tolerated such behavior. A simple threat from someone carrying a weapon was enough to silence the crowd. You know better than to test the patience of this one.

So, you don’t wait for his response. Turning around, your hand latches around the cold doorknob that is just about to turn when he speaks from behind you. His voice is cold, unfeeling. Stern and unflinching. Just as someone like him should be.

“Don’t waste your time asking for favors around here.”

“Got it,” you breathe, ignoring the chill running down your spine, “Thanks.”

You steal a glance at him over your shoulder before heading inside your dark room. Expecting the door to close behind you, you’re startled when it’s pushed back open a little aggressively. The action is unpredictable, like the sudden presence of the guard standing in your door frame. Your eyes go wide as he just stands there, heaving a ragged breath. But right when you open your mouth to ask what you’ve done wrong this time, he leaves. The door finally slams shut, and all is quiet except for the question of why he nearly followed you into your room. It’s unclear what his intentions were at that moment, but your thoughts don’t keep you awake. Only your memories do, as you try to sleep away the screams that will haunt you for the rest of this shortening lifetime.

Eventually, your body slips into a half-assed slumber that is quickly interrupted when you hear thuds and curses in the distance. These sounds are muffled through the walls, but there’s no doubt about their existence. You flinch when someone shrieks in pain, sending all sorts of questions about what’s going on tonight. For the past few days, the lights-out period has been your only time of relaxation. But with the growing hunger among your fellow players, it’s hard to determine if you’re still safe without any immediate allies. There have been some groups banding together, some of which cause more trouble than others. The worst ones are always provocative, looking for a fight. Has it arrived tonight? Or have they brought it themselves?

Your doorknob suddenly rattles, startling you out of bed. The sound is quickly paired with banging amid a pleading cry that causes you to stand and move forward.

“Help!” The person on the other side says, “Please, help me—they’re trying to kill me—Open the fucking door!”

Pressing your ear against the cool, metal door, you reply, “Who’s there?”

“Does it matter? Hurry—Please—“

The desperation in his voice wracks your body with a brief shiver. Noticing that the hallway outside has gone quiet all of a sudden, you crack your door open just a tiny bit to catch a glimpse of what’s going on. You’re not even able to blink before you regret this. Having been under the impression that this was just one person seeking solace in your room from whatever threat was nearing, you’re surprised when a rowdy group infiltrates your space as if it means nothing to them. Their faces are shadowed by the lack of lighting, but you don’t need to recognize them to know you just made a mistake when you should’ve minded your own business.

One of them reaches forward to grab you by the front of your sweater while the others circle your position like hawks stalking their prey. They’re definitely all men, bloodthirsty at that. Are they hoping to raise their chances of winning by morning? Collect more money from the silent deaths to occur tonight? This seems to be the only feasible explanation for why they suddenly have you pinned to the floor on your stomach with a switchblade to your neck.

“Told you this one would fall for it,” an unfamiliar voice snickers, “I think we’re getting lucky tonight.”

Despite the voice in your head telling you to fight back—even while the odds are against your favor—your body is locked and frozen. A bead of sweat drops from your forehead onto the floor as you inhale shaky breaths that can’t be controlled no matter how hard you try to remain calm. The blade presses into your neck harder, almost teasingly like the chatter going on around you. At this point, you’d rather these assholes just get it over with and kill you. That would save you from the panic crushing your insides so painfully that you almost can’t breathe.

“Aw, don’t cry…I think we’re scaring her…” The blade is now tracing a line down your cheek, still not digging past your skin. You didn’t even register your own tears until your assailant pointed them out.

“Fuck you,” is all you spit out in return.

“Careful. You’re not really in a position to get rude with me.”

You scoff at this, ensuring the tone is more mocking than meek. “Kill me, then. I hope it’s fucking worth it.”

The blade moves lower, and you fully expect this player to slit your throat right then and there. Biting your tongue, you internally curse yourself for not even trying to bargain or beg your way out of this situation. But it would have been useless. Throughout the past few days, you’ve witnessed the animalistic nature of greed firsthand. Even felt it yourself, at times. There’s no eventual escape in these games. Vote after vote, you now know the only way you’ll ever return home is if you die and search for that peace someplace else. You’re a victim to nostalgia as your final thoughts swarm your mind, but all of that subsides when the door suddenly swings wide open. Your eyes, still blurry from your tears, widen as a shower of bullets pelts across the room like a rainstorm. It’s ear-shattering, causing you to cover your head with your arms as soon as they’re freed from your attackers’ grip. Everything smells like blood and sweat. These two scents only heighten when some bodies, now dead, fall on top of you after hardly putting up a fight. They’re limp but heavy, suffocating you as you try to push them away and sit up.

Through your dizzy and darkened vision, you can see a guard standing in your doorframe, kind of like the one from a few hours ago. This could be a completely different person, though, given how many triangle guards you’ve seen over the past few days. His gun lowers, and he seems to take a step toward you until new orders sound from his radio device. You’re not sure what he’s told to do by whoever is talking to him on the comms, but you do hear his response. “Understood.” It’s one word, clear and firm as he leaves you behind with more blood splattered across your clothes. And now, your floor and walls. Your face. Your hair. Your hands. Everywhere.

The gravity of the situation sinks in as your eyes dart around the bodies strewn across the room with their eyes still open. It’s horrific, just like the oozing bullet wounds gaping through their chests and stomachs. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to make your way to the bathroom, simply feeling your way around with your hand braced against the nearest wall. This is where you remain for the next couple of hours, still stripped naked even after your second shower of the night. Standing over your sink that’s more of a bowl because of its meager size, you plunge your blood-stained clothes under warm water and much more soap than you can spare. Your ears are still ringing, distracting you from the fact that a few guards had come into your room and taken away the bodies at one point in the night. It isn’t until there’s a knock against your bathroom door that you realize someone is still here, inside.

“Yes?” You ask, clearing your throat when you hear how quiet you sound, “Yes?”

There’s no response at first, but you’re not planning to open the door with your current state of decency. Hoping whoever is there can just say their piece and go, you brace your hands against both sides of the sink and wait.

“Are you hurt?”

You straighten your posture, surprised by this question. Judging from the sound of this person’s voice, it’s another guard. Or maybe the same one as before—you don’t even know at this point. It hardly matters, though. They all look the same, talk the same, and kill the same.

“No,” you answer, confused as to why this person seems to be displaying compassionate curiosity toward your well-being, “But…I’d appreciate another set of clothes. I asked someone before, but he was a bit of an ass about it, and—”

“Open the door.”

“No!” You immediately react, surging forward to press your body against the door, “I mean, no. I can’t really do that right now.”

Another silent pause lingers until you hear some keys jingling on the other side of the door. Quickly realizing what’s about to happen, you snatch up your towel and wrap it around your body as tightly as possible. Once the bathroom door opens at the hand of another triangle guard, you furrow your eyebrows into a scowl that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a red, blushing mess.

“Having a master key doesn’t mean you can just invade my personal space like this, you know—”

Your mouth snaps shut when the guard grabs your chin, turning your face from side to side so he can examine your lack of wounds for himself. Keeping one hand on your chest, you press it into your towel as the other pushes his arm away.

“Don’t touch me,” you tell him while taking a step back.

He crosses his arms over his chest and replies, “Full offense, but I really don’t know how you’ve made it this far.”

Your face burns hotter as you copy his movements, but it’s more to cover your chest than anything else. “You don’t even know me.”

His head tilts to the side a bit, and you’re not sure why you suspect that he’s smiling behind his mask. It’s almost ironic how you’re borderline naked while he hasn’t even bared a single inch of flesh to your perception. You can’t confirm this for certain, but you feel his eyes on you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you glance behind him and notice that his firearm is rested against your wall beside your bed. The room looks a lot cleaner from here already. You’re about to ask about that when his figure suddenly moves, occupying your peripheral so that all you’re seeing is him.

“That won’t dry by the morning,” he nods toward the sink where your bloody clothes swim in soapy bubbles.

“I don’t care. I just…” You inhale a deep breath, not to break in front of him, “I’m just trying to wash off the blood.”

“It’s only going to come back.”

“That doesn’t really make a difference to me. I know I’m not making it out of here alive.”

He’s quiet at this, casting his head down a little. You assume he’s looking at the floor, but there’s no telling where his eyes are fixated. Just like there’s no explaining the reason for his presence—whoever he is. You want to tell him to leave before this interaction becomes more awkward than it already is, but he lifts his head again and seems to stare right at you.

“You shouldn’t even be here.”

It’s a claim, or maybe an observation, but it sounds demanding. Even through his voice modulator, you pick up on a familiar type of tone you shouldn’t be thinking about at this moment. It’s long been forgotten, only because it left you behind first.

“I don’t think any of us should be here,” you reply before pointing out, “But you work here. Don’t know how you sleep at night.”

“Not very well, actually.”

“Oh. Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

He chuckles softly, and an odd feeling clenches your stomach as you watch his shoulders shift before relaxing. It’s not that you recognize this specific reaction, but it feels too distinct to let go. Maybe it’s just your nostalgia kicking in, though. Teetering on the edge of death every day has left you reflecting on your life thus far, including what you’ve lost. What you never expect to gain back, even if you survive this place.

“You never go easy on me,” he murmurs, slightly exhaling with his words.

Your lips part in disbelief once this sentence sticks in your mind. Instinct takes over as old memories resurface. Someone has said this to you before, not once or twice, but numerous times during arguments that went in circles until nobody really won. You’ve tried to forget about the yelling, the laughing, and all of the affection he threw away for a reason you will never know. He’s not here to provide that closure. Or so you initially believed, until hearing this timeless phrase for yourself.

“Take off your mask,” you whisper.

The guard leans forward and tells you, “I can’t do that.”

Despite this, he doesn’t move away when you step forward until you’re directly in front of him. You’re so close that your feet slide between his boots, and his face tilts to accommodate your proximity. Fear tingles your fingertips as you push his hood back before pausing in expectance of some sort of resistance. An order to stop. But nothing comes, so you reach for his mask while holding your breath. It doesn’t take long for you to unlatch the covering, but you wait a few seconds to pull it completely away. He’s so still that part of you thinks this is all a joke or a dream.

“Fox?”

The hand holding his mask drops to your side when you don’t receive a response, revealing the face that’s been hidden all this time. Not the complete picture, though. Just the eyes. But that’s enough for you to know that your memory hasn’t failed you when fate certainly has. You let his mask clatter to the ground when he pulls the remainder of his face covering away, never taking his gaze away from yours. He looks…the same. Just more tired and sunken from the lack of sleep he mentioned before, but otherwise…that’s Fox. You can’t deny it. Blinding, hot rage seizes your chest automatically, sending your next actions into an overdrive with no brakes.

“You. Fucking. Asshole!” You punctuate each word with a fist to his chest, “This is where you’ve been? I thought you were dead! Or…you found someone else, and…“

He takes both of your wrists in one hand to stop you from hitting him again. “Are you done?”

You stare at him, breathing hard and heavy from the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through your blood. He tightens his grip around your wrists before you can respond or pull away, bearing down on you with a hardening glare you find utterly ridiculous. He has no right to be angry at you. Not after he disappeared from the face of this Earth without so much as a simple text explaining himself.

“Let go of me,” you snap, trying to twist yourself out of his hand.

He only tugs you forward at this, causing your frontside to collide with his. “Tell me why you’re here.”

You scoff, meeting his eyes that are suddenly a lot closer than before. There’s barely any breathing room between your faces now, which is both frightening and exhilarating. The sudden rush of emotions accelerating your heartbeat isn’t easy to take in all at once, distracting you from what’s important right now: your survival. Anguish, sorrow, relief, and desire all cloud together in your mind before you blink away the tears that have begun welling in your eyelids. He doesn’t get to see you cry.

“Not unless you tell me tomorrow’s game,” you bargain, purposefully drying your tone of any vulnerability.

You realize this response disappoints him when he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze from yours. “I can’t—“

“You can’t do that,” you admonish sarcastically, “Figures. Let go of me.”

But he ignores this, lulling your conversation into a silence that allows you to register his other hand fisting your towel just along the dip of your waist. He could pull it away if he wanted to. If you wanted him to. The truth of this matter stings your cheeks as you frown at him, unable to mask the pain he caused throughout the past few years. All that you buried for the sake of moving on is now erupting once again, manifesting into pure hatred. It’s hot, and it burns. You feel it everywhere, just as you feel his eyes tracing over you with an uncharacteristic desperation. He looks apologetic—you can see it in his expression—but he hasn’t said the words yet. You’re not sure if you would even accept them, which is probably the reason for their absence. Because you hate him. You hate him so much that you feel the need to prove it just so he can experience an ounce of what he put you through after leaving without a trace.

“I hate you,” you whisper, “And I’m not telling you anything.”

“Is it your parents?” He squeezes his fist around your towel, “Did they—”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“You’re an idiot for coming here. So, you better have a good fucking reason—”

“How long have you known?” You interrupt, pushing your bound wrists into his chest as your eyes widen with your question, “When did you recognize me? Was it tonight?”

A subtle flicker of guilt shadows his expression, so you press harder. It’s not enough to hurt him, not even close, but he looks as if he’s in pain. Good, you think to yourself.

“Since the first day,” he eventually answers, “I thought I was imagining it when I saw you, but…I wasn’t. Clearly.”

“And you didn’t think to help me?” You breathe harshly, knowing he doesn’t owe you that support even though it would’ve been nice, “Did that just not cross your mind once? I can’t even count the number of times I’ve almost gotten killed here, and it’s only been two days. Two fucking days, and you’ve been acting like I don’t exist.”

His scowl deepens, reminding you of the time when such an expression used to upset you. Not anymore, though. There are much scarier things in here than him. He lets go of you just to grab both of your shoulders, meeting your eye level to ensure you’re hearing him loud and clear.

“What do you think I could’ve done?” He replies just as venomously, “Break the rules? For you?”

You betray your resolve when you flinch, but he keeps going. “You’re not even supposed to be here. But you are, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I have a job to do, and—”

“I don’t give a shit about your job. You think I want to be here?” You shove at his chest before fisting his jumpsuit and pulling him closer, “I’m stuck here because everyone else keeps insisting on one more game, but I’m the idiot, right? I’m trying to walk away even though I won’t have nearly as much as I need to survive out there. But you don’t care. You’re just an errand boy carrying a big gun as if that makes you half of the man you wish you were.”

His hands leave your shoulders to wrap around your forearms as they stay rested against his chest. “How much do you need?”

“Why?” You scoff, “Are you going to give me the money yourself?”

“Are you going to answer any of my questions?”

“Seeing as you’re not going to help me, no, not really—“

“I want to help you,” he brushes his thumb against your skin, and it feels warm despite the gloved barrier, “But you don’t understand the nature of this place. I don’t have a choice when it comes to the players.”

“You’re wrong, Fox. You do have a choice—you’re just not choosing me. That’s nothing new.”

He looks at you warily before sighing and shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

His hands slide back to your shoulders to pull you even closer. “I am.”

Your stomach dips when you realize how little distance is between your faces now, with your noses touching and your lips sharing the same breath. His eyes are on yours until they’re not, lowering inch by inch across your mouth. Then your neck. Then your chest, which is still rimmed with the towel that remains wrapped around your body. You wonder how long that will last. The urge to let go of him screams in the back of your mind as your fists tremble around the fabric of his uniform, but you’re frozen in the past. Right when you expect him to close the distance and kiss you—or for you to do that first—he repeats, “I am.” His voice is hushed but not quiet enough for you to miss its warmth. An irritated muscle jumps in your jaw because you don’t want that gentle apology—it’s a facade, transparent like ice. You’re angry, so you want anger.

“Fuck you,” you hiss before yanking him forward, colliding his lips with yours with all the anger you can muster. His posture stiffens in surprise for a second that’s gone as soon as his arms wrap around your body. One hand fists your hair while the other grabs your towel from the back, tugging but not drawing it away just yet. He meets you halfway in the kiss, forcing your lips to part wider under his so he can take your mouth deeper. The intensity sends a rush of energy through your chest to your stomach, pooling into an ache that heightens when you feel his tongue slide over yours. It’s all so familiar. Recognizing his every move is what grows your annoyance but also your desire.

So, you bite his bottom lip hard, smiling when he grunts into another kiss. Your mouths meet, this time rougher like a test of who’s in control. At this moment, it’s him as he grips your jaw with the hand that was in your hair just before, tilting your face the way he wants every time his lips open and close over yours. Your breath hitches when he slows down and sucks on your bottom lip before soothing your swollen flesh with his tongue. And when he kisses you again, it’s soft—not the way you want it. You push at his chest until his back is against the bathroom wall, neither of you caring about the harsh impact. He exhales a low, disapproving sound before shifting your body so that it’s you pinned to this cold surface now, desperately kissing him in proof of how much you really do hate him.

“Is this why you’re here?” You whisper against his lips, “To fuck me and then leave again?”

He shakes his head and kisses you harder, nearly shoving you into the wall with his entire weight. “I thought those fuckers might’ve hurt you.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” you squeeze his shoulders, “Just take what you came for and leave.”

He leans back just slightly so you can see his face with more clarity. Glaring at you, he replies, “What did I say about asking for favors?”

You glare back at him, well accustomed to his intolerable arrogance. “I think I’d be doing you the favor.”

“Yeah?” He scoffs, “I doubt that.”

Grabbing him by the chin, you pull his face closer so your lips are just barely grazing each other. He can definitely feel every word you reply instead of merely hearing them.

“Prove it, then.” Your tone is soft but taunting, pressing right where it hurts: his ego.

He narrows his dark and glassy eyes at you, but you can still catch a glimpse of your own reflection in them. Instead of seeing the man you were once blissfully in love with, you try to recognize him for who he is now: a merciless killer, also probably victim to his manipulated greed. There’s no room for any remorse for whatever situation might’ve brought him here, though. All you can think about are the players who have already lost their lives to those wearing the same uniform. Perhaps tomorrow, it’ll be you in front of his trigger. Whoever’s arms you’re in now can’t be considered the Fox you’ve tried to forget but failed. He’s not your Fox anymore. And if it’s that easy for him to turn a blind eye to your current situation just to follow orders, then maybe he never was.

He seems to notice the growing hatred in your expression, dropping his gaze from your face to look someplace else. Your lips part in surprise when his hands find the knot of your towel, pausing as he just holds onto it for a moment. He glances up at you with a question brewing beneath his silence, to which you also respond nonverbally. All it takes is your raised eyebrows that ask, “What are you waiting for?” for him to undo the knot and let the towel drop to the floor. It lands at your feet, hardly making a sound, but a sharp exhale escapes your lips once the cold bathroom air hits your skin. Goosebumps rise all over your body that his eyes rake over, shamelessly taking the image for himself.

“Don’t just stand there,” you huff as you reach forward with the intention of undressing him, too.

He ignores this and pushes your hands away before taking off his gloves—the second part of his uniform he’s shed tonight. His hands are still large but also slightly scarred now, which must be why they feel rougher when he grabs your hips and pulls you away from the wall. You don’t get very far because he’s quickly kissing you again, touching you everywhere he can reach as if he can’t decide where to keep his hands. He doesn’t settle anywhere, groaning quietly into your mouth the more he feels his way around your body. You can’t decide what’s the most undoing—his hand around your neck, squeezing your breasts, holding your torso, cupping your ass, or caressing your face. It’s all feverishly desperate, warming your cold skin as the time passes with every kiss exchanged.

“What are you doing—“ you gasp when he suddenly pulls away and drops to his knees.

If he responds, you don’t hear it. A breathy moan sounds from the back of your throat as he drops a kiss against your inner thigh before parting your legs wider with an impatient hand. Closing your eyes, you lean back against the wall and tilt your head back for a surface that might ground you to this quickly escalating moment. You moan again, this time louder and more startled when he sinks his teeth into your skin—dangerously close to where you’re wet and waiting for him.

“Look at me,” he demands, “Or I stop.”

Your eyes are still closed as you push your hips into his face, clearly ignoring his command on purpose. “Fuck you.”

“You will if you’re lucky.”

You laugh at this mockingly, taking his words from before. “I doubt that.”

His lips immediately find your clit as he sucks, just once. You gasp and arch your back, widening your eyes at the sudden sensation that tugs on the growing knot in your stomach. A pulse begins to beat at the center of your body, beginning with that slow and anticipatory rhythm you’re used to. You don’t even realize that you’ve obeyed his command to look at him until you catch his smirk that’s partially masked, given that his face is buried between your legs. But you can see the amused arrogance in his eyes—it’s sickeningly triumphant. He hasn’t even won anything yet. And you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of any prize. This proves more difficult than expected when his mouth meets your pussy again, not even pausing to tell you what to do. Your chest rises and falls at the bottom of your vision as you stare down at him, watching him taste you with every stroke of his tongue. Everything goes spotty once his fingers find your clit, rolling it slowly for more stimulation. You curse under your breath, unsurprised he knows exactly what to do because this dance is just as familiar to him as it is to you.

The knot in your lower stomach only tightens, threatening to snap the faster his tongue pushes and swirls in and out of you with your clit pulsing and swelling in size. You try to control it, desperately writhing against the wall while a series of gasps and moans trap themselves within these four walls. It’s a miracle if your neighbors next door haven’t figured out what’s going on by now. He seems to know you’re about to come when he squeezes your thigh with his free hand before smoothing a caress across this specific area. It’s coaxing you into the release you realize you can’t prevent no matter how hard you try. It’s also soothing, unlike his rough devouring that drops your mouth open in a struggling cry as your body jerks and trembles after this game you feel like you lost. He’s still licking and sucking on you through your orgasm, savoring your taste for as long as possible. You rest your head back against the wall and take a few heavy breaths of air, closing your eyes to avoid looking at anything—not just him. The sudden urge to be alone while also fearing loneliness overwhelms this aftermath like the conflicting forces of your emotions tonight.

His arms quickly find yours, holding you upright before you can begin to slide down the wall. Your knees would have buckled if he didn’t do this, but you don’t tell him that. Opening your eyes, you look up at him and wonder why his expression is so unreadable at the moment.

“Do you have a condom?” You mumble, swiping some hair out of your face.

He snickers under his breath at this while bending down to lift you up in his arms. You’re about to protest when you notice that he’s bringing you to your bed, which is clean of any blood from before like the rest of the room. He’s silent as he lays you down and stands over you, just watching you catch your breath as the two of you hold eye contact. It would have been eerie if not for the noticeable softening of his expression that hardens when you speak again.

“Guess you’re just all talk now,” you hum, shifting under the covers a bit to keep warm.

“I don’t have a condom,” he answers, “And I’m going to guess you got off the pill.”

“Says who? Maybe I’m seeing someone. It’s been years, you know.”

His eyebrows draw together for a fleeting second. “I know.”

Your stomach twists when you hear how quiet his response sounded. It’s not the volume that provokes this reaction, though—it’s the weakness. You don’t want to feel guilty or sympathetic, but old habits are hard to kick. A small part of you wonders if he’s missed you after all this time, too. If he’s thought about you—if the mere suggestion of you finding someone else bothers him because he still…

“You’re right. I’m not on the pill,” you admit, hoping he catches the implication of this.

He runs a hand over his jaw. “Honestly, that makes me feel worse.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You should’ve just moved on.”

The blunt honesty is expected, but you can’t help how your mouth snaps shut at this comment. A lump forms in your throat as you look away from him, already feeling the bubbling return of your anger.

“I tried,” you close your eyes and press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to stop any tears from escaping, “You don’t even know.”

“It wasn’t easy for me, either. It still isn’t.”

“Then why haven’t you left this place yet?”

“This is my job now. I swore my loyalty to the Captain.”

The answer sends a chill down your spine because of how recited it feels. Fox has always been the most conscientious person you know, but to think that he’d ignore all the wrongdoing occurring around here just to be a good employee is almost…terrifying. No, not almost. It is.

“You sound brainwashed,” you tell him while sitting up and staring at his dark figure that’s now rested on the edge of your bed.

He turns his head to meet your eyes, clearly taking offense to this observation. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Yeah, I don’t. I don’t understand how you can go through with this���how many people have you killed here?”

“Players choose to participate in the games. And players who lose get eliminated. It’s the rules.”

“So, tomorrow,” you say, “If I lose tomorrow’s game. You’d kill me?”

His expression hardly wavers at this question, so you don’t notice the flicker of pain that crosses his shadowed eyes. “That’s a hypothetical.”

You lean forward and jab your finger into his shoulder. “Answer it.”

“I don’t know,” he snaps, “But I know what I’m supposed to do. I know my orders.”

You press your lips together and shake your head, not even trying to argue about this. At this point, you’ve accepted he’s not going to help you going forward. It’s been everyone for themselves since you got here, so you hold onto some hope that you can keep going without anyone else. You’ve made it this far, after all. Still, his words from just before echo in your mind like a torturous reminder of the person he’s become now. I swore my loyalty to the Captain. Whoever the fuck that is.

“You were loyal to me,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, “And I was loyal to you. Wasn’t that enough?”

You know he hears the vulnerable sorrow in your tone because he lifts his head and stares at you so deeply that you’re scared he can see right through you. Trying to act like these games—this entire situation—doesn’t bother you isn’t easy, but it’s necessary to push forward. With him in the picture now, it’s hard to keep putting up this front even though you don’t want him to know just how badly he hurt you. And just how desperately you want to return to the old days when nothing was wrong, and everything was perfect. That’s all gone now.

“Forget it,” you inhale shakily, not even letting him form a response, “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about anything right now.”

“What do you want?” He asks sternly.

You shift closer, smiling even though the expression doesn’t meet your eyes. Cupping the side of his face with a trembling hand, you whisper, “I just want to forget about everything. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

He closes his eyes, no doubt feeling your fingers caress his cheek before trailing down his neck. “We shouldn’t…”

You lean forward and drop a kiss right below his jawline. “I know.”

He curses under his breath before yanking you closer by the waist. You think he’s about to say something, but no words form as your faces gravitate toward each other until there’s no more distance. The collision of the kiss is soft and slow this time around. When he lifts you into his lap, though, the pace of your lips intensifies and quickens with breathy sighs that sound from both of you. Your hands find his face, squeezing a bit when his arms ravel around your body like he’s trying to seal this embrace into permanence. But everything about this moment is temporary. Both of you know this, which is why neither of you speaks. His increasingly heavy breathing is all you can hear over your soft gasps as he lays you back down on the bed before standing to undress himself. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch each piece of his uniform fall away. That’s more like it, you think to yourself.

“You can still back out, you know,” he tells you as he pulls his undershirt over his head, “You should.”

“Would it kill you to stop telling me what to do for once?”

He tilts his head to the side a bit and smirks before pulling you toward the end of the bed by your ankles. “It might.”

You watch him reach for the waistband of his underwear while trying to ignore the sight of his broad shoulders silhouetted in the dark lighting of this room. Among all the things that have changed since you last saw him, you can certainly say his physique is one of them. Not that he’s never looked like this before, though. Before you can satisfy your urge to reach forward and touch him, starting with the hard plane of his chest before moving lower to his narrowing torso, you lift your hand to pause this moment. It’s not a good idea to be looking at him if you’re really going through with this.

“Wait,” you say before turning your body over so that you’re facing away from him on all fours.

You glance at him over your shoulder when his hands find your hips, curious as to why he looks more irritated all of a sudden. From the squeezing pressure of his grip, you suspect he’s about to turn you over, so you shake your head.

“Fuck me like this,” you tell him, “And pull out before you come.”

He briefly narrows his eyes at you. “When’d you become so bossy?”

Rolling your eyes, you face forward again to stare at the wall. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. You’re good at following orders.”

You hear an exhale and some rustling in the background before feeling his hands return to your hips, also palming your ass a bit from the size. You’re pulled toward him just a bit more, so slowly that you grit your teeth in anticipation of his next move. Arching your back, you press your face into the mattress until one of his hands fists your hair, and that’s when you know he wants to hear you like the smug bastard he is. All that escapes your lips is a startled, “Fuck,” before he suddenly slams into you from behind. There’s no warning, no patience. No inch-by-inch slowness that relaxes and stretches you out sweetly. You see stars as he buries his length inside of you all the way, unable to hear yourself moan loudly over the abrupt sensation. He’s thick and throbbing, just like you remember, but you hardly have the time to ruminate over what’s stayed the same. He doesn’t let you collect your thoughts, quickly sliding out of your wet folds just to push back in even harder than the first time. You gasp as he fucks you angrily, and the sound is sharp, unlike the sloppy noises that come from the joining and releasing of your bodies. It’s filthy and disrespectful, animated by the bed frame that’s banging against the wall with each thrust.

“Make it hurt,” you whimper, “Make it hurt, Fox.”

He sucks his teeth and groans, fisting your hair tighter as he doesn’t slow nor speed up. “I’ll fuck you how I want.”

You laugh through a breathy moan and steal a glare at him over your shoulder. “You’re hardly fucking me at all.”

“Yeah?” He pushes your face into the mattress right when he begins to pick up the pace, “What about now? Am I fucking you now?”

You fist the bedsheet as you muffle your cries in the thin fabric that hardly keeps you warm every night. Any control or precision he might’ve been displaying before is now gone. He’s completely lost in your grasp even though he’s the one driving you into the bed with every rough snap of his hips. Your skin collides loudly, leaving both of you raw and sensitive like your pulsing center that’s soaking his length so embarrassingly desperate. You’re so wet for him that there’s barely any resistance as he slips into you swiftly, hitting you deeper and wider the further you collapse with your ass in the air and your legs spread apart. His taunting question is now forgotten but definitely answered through the incoherent mess of your moans and curses, no doubt another win in his books. But feeling him inside of you like this can’t be considered a loss for you, either. You almost forget that you’re now on opposing sides.

“Close,” you moan, turning your face to the side so he can hear you, “I’m close, Fox.”

Your eyes crack open just in time for you to see him clench his jaw. A split second of decision-making crosses his expression before he pulls out of you completely and turns you over. About to protest and shift back to your original position, you gasp when he pins your arms down on either side of your head with his rough hands and leans over you. His stare is molten like his touch, both of which you can’t ignore. He enters you again just as his forehead comes down on yours in expectance of a kiss, but neither of you closes the distance. Your lips simply brush over each other with heavy pants that make it difficult for you to hold his eye contact. For some reason, though, you can’t look away. It almost doesn't occur to you that he’s changed his pacing despite your impending orgasm, slowing down when you’d rather he speed up.

“You don’t,” you gasp, “Fucking listen to me. Ever.”

His responding chuckle is ragged as he dips his head to suck on your neck. You instinctively tilt your face away to give him more access, closing your eyes as his mouth ravishes your sweet spot just above your collarbone. He grunts into your skin when your legs lock around his waist, hiking higher and higher to fold your bodies closer. This low sound only grows louder when you squeeze around him, almost pulling him inside of you every time you feel him pulse against your walls.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck before lifting his face to be directly over yours again, “I’m sorry.”

You lean forward to take his bottom lip between your teeth. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t care,” you reply before kissing him. He moans and parts his lips over yours, not saying anything further. There’s no more conversation as his slow fucking returns to its normal, faster state that leaves you struggling to kiss him back through the whines and cries he swallows for himself. You arch your back when you feel the tightening knot return, now pulsing wildly in anticipation of your second orgasm for the night. He comes soon after you, pulling out as his cock jerks and releases over your stomach. It’s warm and wet like the last kiss he drops to your mouth once you’re both finished. His lips linger against yours almost innocently, without tongue or any harsh movements that implicate a step further. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands leave your forearms to cup your face, sealing this kiss into his final attempt at apologizing. You don’t say you forgive him, but you do wrap your arms around his neck now that they’re free of his grip.

But when it’s over, the room turns cold again. He pulls back, heaving a few breaths before stalking toward the bathroom where you hear him take your clothes out of the sink. He’s in there for some time, probably handling your forgotten mess, all while you simply stare up at the ceiling not thinking about anything in particular. You know you should probably clean yourself up, but that expectation is solved when he returns with a towel. He pushes your hand away when you try to grab it from him, wiping the sore flesh between your legs before your stomach.

“I’m surprised this shitty thing is still standing,” you remark when he stands again, pushing at the creaky bed frame.

“Are you disappointed?” He asks, taking his underwear from the floor to put it back on.

“No,” you yawn, “I’m tired.”

“You have a long day tomorrow.”

You ignore this, just as you ignore his presence for the next few minutes to use the bathroom and finish cleaning yourself up. There’s not much to wear, given your sopping clothes that Fox seemed to have hung to dry in your tiny shower. Staring at the wet fabric, you feel sick when you see that some blood still hasn’t come off, making your efforts useless. Once you step back into your bedroom area in nothing but your satisfactorily dried underwear, you notice that he’s not completely dressed yet. You look at his gun, which is still leaning against the wall beside him, and you remember all that occurred before he turned your night upside down.

“Will there be more fighting tonight?” You bring up casually so as not to appear scared, “Like the guys from before, I mean.”

He reaches for the outer layer of his uniform while replying, “I don’t know. We’re not supposed to prevent them from happening.”

“But you interfered,” you remember aloud, “That was you, right?”

No answer.

“Fox.”

“Does it matter?” He snaps, “You’re alive. Just keep it that way for as long as possible.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand as he crosses the room with his mask in one hand and his firearm slung around his shoulder. He looks so different all of a sudden, but he doesn’t feel different anymore. You swallow the lump in your throat and approach him cautiously, reaching for his free hand. He lets you hold it, but he doesn’t look pleased when he meets your eyes. That doesn’t faze you, though. He never looks pleased.

“I might not have many options left,” you tell him quietly, “But you always have a choice. Please don’t forget that.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“What about you?”

A half-hearted smile ghosts his expression before he pulls his mask over his head. Then, the final piece that covers his entire face with that lone triangle. When he speaks again, it’s through the unmistakable modulator that sends goosebumps across your bare skin. But you’re not afraid of him.

“Don’t worry about me,” he answers, “You’ll only waste your breath.”

With that, he drops your hand and leaves your room. You hear the definitive click of a lock before the doorknob rattles like a test of whether or not someone can still enter. When the door remains closed, his footsteps depart into the distant hallway as quietly as they came. All is silent now, including your mind which is devoid of any knowledge of what tomorrow is going to look like for you. So, you sleep on your fears until morning, which is only a few hours away. The classical music that’s woken you up throughout your stay here thus far plays in every room once the clock reaches the hour of your destiny. Rubbing your eyes and pushing your covers away from your body, you catch sight of something at your entrance just resting on the floor. It’s a fresh set of your uniform—Player 066—folded neatly without any blood stains. But that’s not the most surprising part about this gift. A small piece of paper rests on top of the clothes, also folded until you spread it open in your palm. Only one word is written, so only one word is read.

Mingle.

[scaraandshitposts]

okay wait I was onto smth!! maybe!!!

Halloween/Fall Hcs with genshin men!🕸

written w fem reader in mind, established relationships, modern au, light sex joke, ft scara, ajax, lyney

scara

if you're going to want to be out and about on halloween, this is not the guy for you. 100% wants to stay in the whole time

will watch scary movies/play horror games with you, he will any day honestly but- he gets such an ego boost if you hide yourself in his shirt during gorey or freaky parts of movies. he gets so happy that he feels like he can protect you

he will not, under any circumstances, hand out candy to trick or treaters. he will slam the door in a 6 year olds face lmao he thinks it's stupid and will be honest about it. if you have a young sibling, he'll come with you to take them trick or treating (and complain a lot)

he doesn't care for anything sweet, probably opting for sour candies like sweettarts or those weird hard ball things. but maybe if he's feeling generous, he'll buy you some of your favorite treats. even if he hates the sticky sweet gummies and pixie stix you adore, you can bet everything he'll stand in line for hours the day before halloween.

he thinks dressing up is stupid, but you could talk him into a basic couples costume. maybe ghostface and casey (tbh ive never watched scream movies so im going off google) he would probably do that pumpkin head trend with you, he'll feel stupid the whole time but it's worth it to make you happy.

he'd want to carve pumpkins, and he will, but carving them gets difficult for him. it takes a lot of strength to do that, but he will do his best and attempt to help you. maybe it's best to skip this and just paint pumpkins...

you can take him to starbucks for a pumpkin spice latte all you want, but he'll insist on paying and get the worst tasting black coffee every time!! it's even worse because he genuinely likes bitter coffee

overall 10/10 fall boyfie, he doesn't like all the chaos and celebrations, but does enjoy quality time with you<3

ajax

he was literally made for this. he adores autumn and winter. considering he's from shneznaya, he could wear a t-shirt any time in fall and be fine, no matter where you live.

he'll take you to all his friends parties, if your up for it. and you have to have matching costumes, any couple you can think of is a valid costume option. he will be ken. he will wear the fucking roller skating costume. a little off topic but he saw the barbie movie and loved it.

spends halloween hitting up parties and showing off your costumes and takes teucer out to trick or treat at the end of the night. it's literally so cute to see him walking with teucer, eventually carrying him home when it gets too late.

he's so sweet to kids while giving out candy. i think he's the type to have candy bars and other allergy safe options, lollipops and goldfish maybe. the neighborhood kids love his house because of how rich he is, king sized chocolate bars for all. he's such a family man and adores kids so he's made for this.

he goes mad when decorating for halloween, pushing the line between too scary for kids and too cute. somehow it always works out. I feel like he'd be good at decorations because he takes side jobs at haunted houses. he'd be really good at playing a slasher i think.

you'll go to the haunted house he's working at with a group of friends, and he'll end up sneaking up on you from behind, pressing his fake knife to your throat and whispering "boo" it nearly gives you a heart attack but it's mad funny. he definitely gets in trouble for kissing one of the customers, but it's worth it.

if you prefer a calmer way to celebrate, he'll skip most of the parties and have a nice night with you after teucer gets tired out from a sugar rush. you'll snuggle up on the couch together watch whatever scary movies you'd like, he definitely puts up a bunch of candles for the fun atmosphere.

he'll buy you literally anything halloween or fall related. you want a cute new reath for autumn? only the best one on the market for you. want some overpriced seasonal drink? you're having a large and he'll get one too! it's honestly just an excuse to spoil you at this point

he's a 9/10 in this department. would be a 10 if he didn't make jokes about skeletons and boners...

lyney

the halloween boyfriend of the century. he has so much fun with holiday stuff and dressing up makes it even better

he's a performer, he's extra, so he has to win any costume contests! lynette is sick of this nonsense by now but it warms her heart to see you having so much fun helping lyney with his autumnal nonsense.

he's not necessarily one for big halloween celebrations, opting to spend his time hanging out with you and his siblings, possibly telling scary stories. lynette is rather unphased but poor freminet is always freaked out afterwards. there's definitely more than enough marshmallows for all the smores you intend to eat while this goes on.

he'll let you snuggle up next to him around the fire pit if you get a little freaked out. he gets to entertain and be with his lover, two of his favorite things. he'll even roast a few marshmallows for you! but it's expected that you return the gesture.

he'll definitely buy all kinds of dumb halloween decorations from the closest dollar store. don't be suprised when you find plastic spiders placed around the house. he loves to decorate outside of the house, it's slightly obnoxious but you're used to it at this point.

he'll happily take you out for whatever over the top seasonal drink you want, he does this for lynette every year as well. unsurprisingly, she typically becomes the third wheel to these drink based outings. but it's worth it to see lyney fawning over you like a puppy.

as previously mentioned, he dresses up and goes hard on halloween costumes. he'll be the one begging you to match for halloween. he seriously goes hard, the time and dedication of a seasoned cosplayer goes into his costumes.

he's the type to take you to fall festivals and engage in the classic fair games, throwing darts, bobbing for apples, even silly haunted houses. you might end up dragging him into a haunted house, lyney won't get too scared... or at least that's what he says, but he holds your hand the whole time.

a solid 9/10 fall boyfriend, definitely gets into all aspects of october and fall as a whole. he gets a little too carried away and might forget about your scary movie date... but it's okay because now you, him, and both of his siblings all have matching costumes!!

shit i sorta lost motivation with lyneys uhhh it's fineee i just wanted this out for halloween lol

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hello!! 🦐 so i can find it later.

So I was talking with my partner about how I seem to feel everything far too strongly (just in general but sexual arousal / attraction is an example I gave), and she said maybe I am hypersexual, and I don’t know if she’s right or not. I thought it was a bit of a weird thing to say, to be honest. It seems like a non-real label. Is that a weird thing to say to somebody? Is it a real label or a dodgy judgemental-psychologists thing?

Then she said that most people are only getting really horny a couple of times a week, and I struggle to believe her tbh because for me it is more a couple of times a day! Is that true? How often are most people fantasising? Is she mistaken or am I? Am I an outlier here with my fantasy every four hours?

I’m very content being an outlier and have no issue with it (I have fun with it, my partner has fun with it, life is good), but I would just quite like to know.

Thoughts?

hi shrimp emoji,

can I be super honest with you? I don't know your partner, I hope she's lovely, but that's a WILD thing to try to armchair diagnose you with.

I want to super clear: hypersexuality is real. it's a type of compulsive behavior that causes intense sexual urges to the point of distress and distraction; hypersexual individuals may find themselves engaging in sexual behavior long after it's stopped being fun or feeling good. hypersexual folks often struggle with feeling helpless and out of control in the face of their sexual urges, can suffer severe emotional distress after sex instead of (or after) pleasure, and may find that their pursuit of sex starts derailing other parts of their life such as their finances and relationships. it's most common among people who have other addictions (such as drugs, alcohol, or eating disorders), various neurological conditions, and sexual trauma.

so, hypersexuality IS real and it can be very difficult for people who struggle with it. is it something you need to be concerned about in your personal life?

well. does any of the above sound like you? are you frantically planning your days around the desperate pursuit of busting a nut? do you lose track of time watching porn or need to masturbate between obligations the way an alcoholic might need to drink to get through the day? do you experience sexual fantasies that are pervasive and distracting enough to be upsetting? do you feel that your sexuality is taking over your life and in a way that leaves you out of control?

or are you just, like, horny? it's fine to be horny. lots of people are thinking about sex, watching porn, jacking off, and having sex every day without being hypersexual because, again, that is a word that refers to a specific, detrimental pattern of compulsive behavior, not just someone being into sex. people fantasize and think about sex in wildly different amount and all of them are fine and dandy, as long as the amount isn't wreaking havoc on the rest of their life.

in conclusion: if being horny isn't running and possibly ruining your life, you probably aren't hypersexual.

[overthinkthis]

15 Day BL Challenge

Day 8: The Trope You Hate Except When It's "This Series"

This one is difficult because most tropes can (and many have been) done in ways that I like and ways that I dislike. In the end, I chose one that is not a BL trope but just means a lot to me personally:

Being punished for having sex

I have no idea how prevalent this is or was in Asian media but anyone who was also a 90s kid growing up with Buffy probably knows what I'm talking about. It was a whole thing Joss Whedon sometimes talked about and kind of... wanted to subvert but then instead doubled down on? Idk what he was really trying to do, tbh. It mostly relates to women (often in the horror genre) who have sex and are then punished for it by the narrative. Sometimes they die, sometimes their male partner turns out to be evil. Anyway, it's a bad trope, used to portray sex as something bad and dangerous, especially for women.

However, it works for me in The Sign. (Actually, this one was really cathartic to watch.) Phaya and Tharn are punished by the narrative for having sex. Tharn gives in to Phaya's advances and Phaya almost dies twice directly afterwards. And it's made absolutely clear that this is because they slept with each other.

But here's why I still love it: The way the show portrays it makes it also clear that their sexuality is not the actual problem. The moral is not 'stay away from sex'. The moment Phaya is out of hospital, they continue sharing their intimacy in soft lighting and holding each other even closer afterwards.

The message here (if there is one) is: People might come for you because they want to control your sexuality. Those people are in the wrong. You should not let that stop you. And I like that.

And while I'm talking about not-specifically-BL-tropes, here is another one that gets second place for me:

The traitor-turned-good-again dying at the end of the show.

In most cases this just feels like a cop-out so the story doesn't have to deal with the question of whether the character can be forgiven or trusted again and I hate it. So it really suprised me when Pit Babe did it and it actually worked for me.

There is just something about the relationship between Babe and Way. Something about the fact that it was all built on lies but that doesn't make it meaningless. All the moments they had together as best friends still mean so much but they can't get them back. They can't make things right again. But there is still so much love between them. And they managed to show how different the various characters reacted to Way's death. It wasn't all 'he died for us, guess he's a hero now'. It showed very well what the love for Way meant for each character.

15 Day BL Challenge: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

[gigigle]

I really hate how ursa is done in the comics idk

Like I'm done with the arranged marriage and her and ikem but I hate the other stuff.

1. Her and azula

I kinda wish they made her and azulas relationship more complex and nuanced instead of it being that ursa loved her all along and never favored zuko

Because I just think that's a little lazy. I feel like if ursa had favored zuko it would've made sense like if we keep the ikem part of all of it then I think it would be interesting that ursa favored zuko because he reminded her of her past and ikem. Also that with zuko she could at least pretend he wasn't ozais.

But with azula she couldn't pretend at all. And then coupled that with the fact that azula had a spark in her eyes that zuko didn't and she saw how ozai reacted to that and how he treated zuko that she would feel like she would need to protect him even more. I think it would be an interesting thing if zuko reminded her of her old life while azula reminded her of her present life.

And that would cause a rift between them. And then we would have azula acting out for her mothers attention and acting more and more similar to ozai which would just further increase the rift. Because ursa would struggle to separate her daughter from her abuser like she can with zuko. Especially since azula would also spend most of her time learning from ozai and listening to him.

Im also not saying she would a horrible mother either. Because I think even with this scenario that she is still nuanced because she got forced into a situation she would have never chosen and is just trying to get through it day by day. I think it would be that like ursa, azula was just a casualty of azulon and especially of ozai. Because had ozai not been there I think she would have been a much better mother.

Like idk I just feel like with how the comics wrote ursa and ozais relationship this would make even more sense than her being just a slightly flawed mother but she was trying her best. Idk I'm not very articulate.

2. The forgetting thing

It sucks. I hate it so much actually. It's just so bad, like I feel like the writer couldn't think of anyway to make it make sense that ursa would never go back to her kids but tbh I can think of some ways.

Like ursa is definitely terrified of ozai and he knows where she went and she would still go back to her hometown.

So maybe ozai knows this and every now and then he sends soldiers around there to just do a bit of patrol maybe even have them raid her parents house as a way of telling ursa that if she does something her parents and ikem are gonna be the price. Which I think would work.

Also I think with azula and zuko that she just kept telling herself that zuko had Iroh and that azula was ozais favorite. She probably just repeated those constantly like how zuko does with azula always lies. And soon after like a year she believed it.

Also I think she wouldn't get any information on them because ozai would make it harder and like we see in canon not that many know of or recognize azula and zuko. Like in the beach episode kids who seem to have noble parents don't even know about them so I think it would make a lot of sense that the royal family is way way way more private esp during ozais reign. Because yk ozai killed his father,stole his brothers birthright, and In ozais opinion had a failure of a first born. And maybe ursa was also too terrified of what shed find out or just to leave hir'a/her hometown.

Also part of me thinks it was lazy writing so that they wouldn't have to have ursa have difficult conversations about why she never went looking for them or just a conversation with azula because we never actually get a real ursa and azula convo.

3. Kiyi

I hate her. Like she just feels like such a a replacement and lazy writing. Like they wanted zuko to have a healthy brother sister dynamic with someone and they didn't know how,didn't think of, or just didn't want to write that with pre established characters, they decided to make a character that was everything azula wasn't and was the perfect little sister and daughter.

Like I think she could be fun but I also think she was just so that zuko could have that dynamic without having to put in the work of writing azula a semi redemption arc or smth.

But also I think maybe they could've given zuko that brother sister dynamic with katara or toph. Like we see zuko jealous of sokka and katara and maybe we get stuff we're zuko and katara will act like sibling or like the relationship he always wanted with azula but then gets reminded that he can't have that.

Also It feels like a way to also give ursa the perfect daughter but I do think rewritten she could work. I think she's a fun concept.

End

Tbh I just wanted to rant because I feel like so much was done that was just kinda boring and lazy.

[stregoniconiconii]

I think a lot of people really don't get the Eddie Dustin dynamic. They think Dustin and Eddie are new best friends, that they are equal, which is not the case. Their dynamic is more mentor-student coded. Eddie said it himself he sees the people in his club as little sheep he saved, he never really was their friend. His world view also shaped Dustin's personality. This kid and his friends saved the world 3 times, they consider themselves heroes and yet by society standards they are seen as nerds and get bullied. Then there comes a dude who they think gets it, so they latch on. Even though he is not that different from popular kids who think they are better than the rest. His harmful opinions influence Dustin (I would argue even Mike) that they suddenly ditch their friend, are mean, failing school even though in Dustin's case he absolutely loves learning and so forth. Eddie brought out the worst of them which contributed to the tensions in s4 between Steve and Dustin (along with Dustin maybe being jealous of Robin tbh I haven't considered that way but it makes sense). You can't compare the Steve and Dustin dynamic with Eddie and Dustin because Steve never saw himself as something better than Dustin, he always treated him as someone equal which is why their bond will always be stronger than the bond Dustin has with Eddie. I really hope for s5 they somewhat touch on this. (Sorry for coming in your inbox like this)

Most people in this fandom don't get Eddie, full stop. They completely buy into the bullshit he spews about conformity and "the man", which isn't helped by the Duffers also leaning into it. Most egregious example being the supposed conclusion to Lucas' s4 arc. It's ridiculous precisely because Eddie does begin to learn that his assumptions/"doctrine" is wrong through his growing admiration for Steve and his bravery.

Eddie's relationship with his friends is absolutely not based on any kind of equality. He is looked to as a leader and not a particularly forgiving one at that. More like a tyrant. It's played for laughs but Mike and Dustin are genuinely anxious about how Eddie will react to not only Lucas not being available for DnD on one particular night, but him being unavailable because of a basketball game. Lucas didn't even want to talk to him himself, probably because Eddie has already shown himself to be unreasonable when it comes to DnD and basketball.

It's not purely Eddie's influence that leads Dustin to his meaner path, but he certainly doesn't help. Dustin has always been a know-it-all and cocky, he has a foul mouth, and he clearly has hard set ideas about other people that he finds very difficult to let go of. I think Eddie's main influence is in the us vs them attitude that Dustin adopts regarding the "popular" kids, but Dustin's overconfidence is definitely also because he has cheated death 3 years in a row. Nobody that was real to Dustin has died and he believes his plans are infallible... until Eddie dies following one of his plans. Yes, Eddie made the stupid decision to run into certain death for no real reason, but it is through Dustin that Eddie is connected to the larger plot. If he had just witnessed Chrissy's death and then hid, then he would have eventually been found by someone else and never directly involved with the Upside Down.

The thing I mentioned about jealousy over Steve and Robin's friendship, I think it's something that gets overlooked Way too much. Dustin was very invested in his idea that Steve and Robin are perfect for each other. We all know why they're not together, but Dustin doesn't. He just sees Steve being best friends with Robin instead of boyfriend and girlfriend like he had expected/predicted and that throws him off. 1. He was not right about something and 2. HE'S supposed to be Steve's best friend. He feels replaced. So, he tries to replace Steve. Not totally, because he can't, but Dustin Literally says to Steve "You're just jealous I have another older male friend". Dustin doesn't have subtlety. He's Trying to make Steve jealous and it is working!

Steve and Dustin's friendship was so fresh and unexpected. They're not supposed to be friends, but they are. Steve watches Star Wars with Dustin, Steve does Dustin's hair. They save each other's lives. Attempting to recreate that brotherhood with Eddie just...doesn't work. They haven't gone through what Steve and Dustin have gone through. Plus, you're right, Steve and Dustin are on a more equal level. There's elements of mentor-student with them, but most importantly they teach each other. Steve isn't leading Dustin down a road of enlightenment, he's just hanging out with his buddy. Eddie doesn't compare.

I have zero faith in s5, which I'm barely certain I'll even be watching. The Duffers lean too hard into fan service so they're going to recreate the Justice for Barb storyline but with Dustin and it's going to suck. The Duffers don't think it's a bad thing that Dustin snipes at Steve constantly or puts down his intelligence, because it's meant to be funny. Comic relief yay. The characters on this show are mean to each other, yes, but it's annoying to deal with when we see Steve apologise for going too far when he bites back at Dustin.

[joejhang]

i read die free or die a failure.

spoilers ahead !!! these are my thoughts and i'm a yapper.

THINGS I LIKED (in no particular order)

andrew. (i feel like i really enjoyed his characterisation even tho it wasn't accurate. like it still felt sort of like him just like he was more vocal??? more expressive??? idk like his real personality was all there. i feel like he didn't really do anything that canon andrew wouldn't do, he just did it more openly. i love the way he handled neil and i love his smartass comments he genuinely made me laugh. and yeah protective andrew is near and dear to my heart)

kevin-neil dynamic (i would include jean in this but i hate to say it i feel like jean didn't quite fit in the narrative. like he was just there. but he didn't have a LOT of personality. it's fine tho we have tsc and that's enough for me. anyway. i loved kevin and neil's sibling dynamic it was SO funny i think they deserve to have more silly brotherhood moments in canon. i also liked how the author rlly deepened their relationship and there were a lot of layers to their bond)

SETH (i'll say it till the day i die seth deserved better. i feel like dfodaf perfectly illustrates how seth could've been if he had been allowed more time and a redemption arc. maybe it was a little rushed but i LOVED the way he became like a protective older brother to neil and actually learned about his mistakes and was willing to own up to them. GOD he had so much potential)

martyr!neil (IDK I KNOW IT'S TOXIC IT WAS JUST REALLY REALLY WELL DONE. it's not completely in line w canon neil's personality tbh but i feel like the author just got one of neil's key personality traits (a penchant for self-sacrifice and getting into near death situations) and just exaggerated for narrative purposes. which i can respect. and i just genuinely think neil is the bestest boy and this is probably very similar to what he could've been like if he had grown up in the nest)

andreil build up (i say build up bc that's the part i loved most abt their relationship in this fic. like it just felt very right for them to be together romantically after everything they went thru in this fic together. and i feel like andreil is a difficult ship to rewrite and make good bc of how well nora developed the intimacy and trust between them but this fic did it right. like the amount of trust they had in each other rlly warmed my heart!!! and i'm honestly a bit of a traditionalist and i like to stick to the canon but i think within the context of this fic their relationship was developed perfectly and paced perfectly. it just felt like the final piece in the puzzle slipped into place when they actually officially got together. like it just made sense. bc they already had that pre-existing foundation of trust and consent and they already knew each other really well. and their banter!!! it was so well written and funny. they had GREAT chemistry. they cooked w this one)

THINGS I KINDA DIDN'T LIKE (no hate!!! i'm just a natural hater and these r just some criticisms)

neil. (SORRYYYY i just can't stand when they mischaracterise my boy!!!! i feel like it kind of is a personal preference but reading this fic didn't really feel like i was reading neil. i think in the first half it was fine and i wasn't bothered by it too much but by the second half it kind of took me out of the narrative. like the neil i know and love isn't this vocal or this open about like...anything. like i just felt like neil in this fic was just very like out there and a lot louder and more...talkative??? than neil in canon. and i think it bothered me a lot bc one of the things i love most abt neil is his quiet (until he's not) personality. like he's really chill and just isn't as like vocal as he was in this fic. again it's probably just me, but i just feel like the neil characterisation in this fic didn't feel quite right to me)

the dialogue (not all of it but a lot of it i remember being like oh ok. like it felt a little too...like blunt??? like the dialogue felt kind of jarring bc i feel like real ppl wouldn't speak like that. a lot of the conversations felt kind of awkward (this isn't me imposing my own like preferences onto this fic even within the narrative it didn't feel right) and i feel like a lot of what aftg does right in terms of writing is showing not telling the characters' thoughts and feelings whether thru actions or expressions. but in this fic it kind of felt like the characters were all just saying exactly what they were thinking and feeling and experiencing at all times and it kinda took me out of the story)

ok that's it. the things i liked outnumbered the things i disliked but the things i disliked were some pretty big things. STILL. i digress. i think writing such a long and complicated fic abt such a well-loved piece of writing is such a skill and i think the author did great even if there were things i personally didn't love about it. go read it PLEASE so i can discuss this w ppl. CHECK TW!!! there are a lot and this fic is very dark and very heavy and difficult to read at times. anyway. props to the author i had a great time.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31265498/chapters/77287217

[not-goldy]

There's a lot of cognitive biases towards each other that gets in the way- I hate to be the one to say this but I don't think Jimin imputes good intentions behind Tae's actions most of the time.

Whereas if it were Jungkook, he would make mental excuses for those behaviors.

At this point, we're over a decade into their relationship. If jimin doesn't view good intentions behind his behavior, then it likely that he's learned, for one reason or another, to not do so. Whereas with jungkook, he learned the opposite, that maybe if he messes up, his heart was still in the right place. I do think they are stuck between a rock and a hard place because for the sake of the group, they can't really risk ripping apart the relationship to fix it the way it might need in case it ends badly. I'd say we also see growth in jungkook (he's better at expressing his emotions for example), I can't speak for jimin, but its possible he doesn't see that with tae i.e. even if they worked on it, does he feel like anything productive would come of it?

I do think jimin isn't the best at setting boundaries because he doesn't want to make people uncomfortable, and tae isn't the best at respecting boundaries. I think this is what causes friction between him and jungkook at times. Jungkook has pretty firm boundaries and tae has a tendency to override those in a way that IMO irritates jungkook, such as the way tae will go full hyung and baby jungkook in a way that's borderline condescending, or inviting himself to stuff like AYS or suchwita. But with vmin, the lack of boundaries while simultaneously being closed off leaves them in a weird limbo.

Tbh this deep into their relationship, if jimin feels like he can't fully trust or be open with tae, then I don't think he ever will. Only he knows what occurred for that trust to be broken, but I do think he's too emotionally reserved to open up again to that person once he's been stung. You can only do so much "holding someone down" before you've become nothing more than a cement block to tether their emotions.

I think if it weren't for bts and them being same-age friends, vmin wouldn't have been as "close" as they were or expected to be. I think they had fun playing around when they were younger, but like siblings, you go through different stages of life and maybe don't relate anymore. Maybe you were close as kids, but grew apart as adults, or maybe you were distant and fought a lot as kids, but understood each other better as adults, etc. They're very different people in a lot of very important ways that I think, in their current state and stage of life, are maybe not meant to be close. We'll see after MS I suppose, although if its up to jimin, we wouldn't get a whiff of their internal conflicts.

"if he doesn't then it's likely he's learned" yup.

I think they are all genuinely good people. Tae and Junkook can be a bit antisocial with they are and the way they behave- they are both strong willed, will say their mind, don't bend easily and hold on to their sense of self and righteousness.

Such traits can be an impediment to bonding with others and relationships in general. You are required in a relationship to give in to the other, to submit enough to share the others perspective and not hold on to your own views as always the right one.

I think what makes Jungkook different is, he knows he shouldn't be putting up a fight in the first place. He knows he's antisocial but he doesn't want to be. He said it himself he finds it difficult to connect with others.

Yes he's impulsive yes he has walls but those aren't things he wants to get in the way of achieving vulnerability in a relationship.

He knows his limits and his social inadequacies and he knows how harmful and hurtful it can be to him and others. And unlike Tae who lacks that awareness, I think JK acknowledges this fact and has always been willing to unlearn and learn how to be a better man and a better team player.

And I think he and Jimin have worked through this together as Jimin understands and empathizes with him. Shit he is the one to say Jungkook sucks at emotions aka being vulnerable and I think JK trusts Jimin to let him know when his walls are growing too high and thick.

That basic understanding and depth is lacking in Vmin sadly. They are two individuals capable of being vulnerable with each other and that gives their relationship so much depth.

But there is a barrier still and I think they need to work on it. I think Tae is awfully unaware how antisocial he can be. Because he is out going funny emotionally sensitive and can empathize I think he has a false sense of emotional depth and can be painfully unaware how some of his attitudes gets in the way of achieving the intimacy he craves in his connections.

He needs someone who can be brutally honest and understanding of him and do for him what Jimin has done for Jungkook.

I always say he does crave Jimin's friendship- perhaps in ways he doesn't even understand himself. Jimin is good for him and can be good for him. They both just need to work a little bit more. Their dynamic is beautiful I don't care what anyone says. Their ability to work through problems without letting those problems be the doom of their relationship is truly admirable. Will support them if they both let their guards down and take their relationship there- to a point where they don't fight too much not because they are walking egg shells around each other but because they have a meeting of minds on most things.

Tae and I need to talk. Love is not just about forgiveness, it's about being thoughtful and considerate of others. I personally, and this may be a Libra thing, I'm not very good at forgiveness. I'm learning. I'm a very thoughtful and considerate person and I consider the consequences of my actions on others before I do them. If I don't care about you I will act whatever towards you. But I can't be like that towards those I love even when I am mad and fuming I still stop to consider. I'll rather do that than harm them and mend them. It's just how our scales work. So me I consider a thoughtful person as a loving person. And that's what I understand love to be.

In spite of all these, personally I think they have one of the best friends dynamics in kpop and they are likely the two duo to remain friends when the dust of fame settles- or Jimin might just move on and he'll never hear from him again 😹

In a perfect world Jimin would be God's strongest soldier who can take on everyone's trauma and anti social behavior without getting mentally scarred or drained. But he's human and have his own challenges you know.

Plus he's also the one most willing and eager to cut off toxic people from his life so quick so his dynamic with V is very interesting.

I see Jimin. He is emotionally sharp and emotionally more healthy than most Kpop idols. I see his ability to cut off people as one of his strongest assets. But that strong cut off game also means he is emotionally more sensitive and hyper vigilant than most people and that's the downside of being emotionally intelligent.

He can tell which behaviors are a threat to his mental health and mental peace and he will not hesitate to rid himself of such people. And he knows which behaviors won't help a relationship and he will try to work through it with you.

I wish them all all the best.

Now let's focus on our ship please I'm over this whole Vmin situation 😒

[kibblbread]

TRANSFORMERS ONE FANFIC IDEA INCOMING!

Yeah it’s optimus x megatron, sorry not sorry i want to explore their relationship as lovers instead of friends/brothers because I’m a hopeless romantic although i may or may not do that eventually too???

Anyway this fic is being dubbed the Transformers one alternate timeline fic! You can look at the basic premise by clicking the embed link 🔗

You can call it whatever you want the nickname is mostly for me lol

Anyway here is more headcanons and basic outlining for my writing if anyone is interested. I know what its like to be in a small fandom with hardly any fic content for your personal otp 🙃 cries in redhood fandom

So lowkey I want there to be roles within the relationship, I just don’t want to type cast or define either Megatron or Optimus by assigning Top & Bottom. Like people they’re complex and often switch in accordance to what the other needs.

I noticed D16 throughout the movie was a bit more easily stressed and anxious while Orion usually tried to stay more level and optimistic. Pax truly is a good leader. However D16 definitely is also very capable of taking charge, especially when he starts getting fed up with a specific circumstance cough, cough. D16 is very emotional though, and allows that to fuel his motivation and in turn his actions as well.

In my fic I plan to make alt Megatron emotional too! He’s protective and a bit impatient but he’s happy with routine and the mundane of everyday. Also still a nerd and is actually very kind/gentle to not only Optimus but the citizens! Well, outside of the gladiator ring at least.. Megatron never truly gets used to younger bots idolizing him like he does a past Prime. Yes he does become a gladiator, kinda like in the tfp continuity but in this timeline he is still leader of the high-guard as it operates under Optimus Prime’s will. Think basically Cybertron’s army for lack of better terms!

Optimus does his best to be hands on as possible but thats kinda difficult as he is essentially Cybertrons assigned leader and protector. Most operations under his own orders go without the bot ever truly getting to be involved. However, he still takes just about any scrap of time he can to spend with Megatron. It’s pretty obvious to anyone that sees them interact that they’re whipped for one another lol.

Some kinda pivotal moments (spoilers ig??? They’re not too bad though i hope) 🤞🏾

A proposal from Optimus to alt Megatron. It’s pretty early in the fic, and will probably be after I’ve set the stage and done some world building.

Alt Megatron taking on an aircraft form for his transformation! It was just easier for him while leading High-Guard operations but his size, lol, the difference between them is so cute. I’m gonna have so much fun writing

Sentinel being marched through the mines like Megatron originally set out to do. Optimus wasn’t exactly happy about it but never questioned or interfered despite Sentinel’s pleading

Both Megatron’s being partial to holding grudges and indulging in rage. Although alt Megatron has trouble controlling other emotions as well, his mood is contagious for better and worse tbh. Both versions of their auras are captivating and fill any room no matter how big.

Canon Megatron trying to kill alt Optimus on sight because that boy ready to square up 🤭

Shockwave figuring out the switch situation and switching things back without even consulting anyone, spoiler alert — he fucks up

Megatron being disgustingly cute with either Optimus in either timeline because he’s dangerously persuasive and sincere

Yeah that’s really all i got for now. It’s very otp centric but obviously Ill flesh out the others to an extent later.. or not idk if I’ll complete this project or not. But it’s maybe gonna be around 10-15 chapters???

Wish me luck and we’ll see how it goes 😝

[bazeartstuff]

A Cruel God Reigns Stuff

Hello.. this functions as a repaint of sorts. I read Hagio Moto's A Cruel God Reigns more than 4 years ago and it always stuck with me as some of the most harrowing and depressing manga I had ever read... I recently reread it and discovered even more to appreciate about its torturously evil narrative. So much so that I frantically wrote about arguably the most grueling thing to read about... Ian and Jeremy's relationship.. I find that there is unfortunately not much discourse about this manga online, so if you'd like to hear some random person's opinion, then it's attached under the cut.

About the painting itself.. I'm not really too happy with it (what artist is satisfied with their own painting, really..) but I think Jeremy came out very well, which was all I really wanted tbh. I added in Ian and that as a means to try painting him, but I only intended the painting to be a more literal repaint of the older one. I'm happy to say that I've finally figured out how to paint pale people, lmao. And I'm happy that Jeremy looks so corpse-like. I'm happy with his face.

I also used a Gouache brush set I didn't really understand how to use here and I found myself to be very happy with my experiments with it. I will use it more whenever I paint.

Anyway, if you can believe it, more rambles under the cut (the manga discussion).

TW//discussions of SA

Ian and Jeremy's relationship is definitely weird, and not just because of the incestuous undertones but also because of the dynamics at play by the end; I think it's relevant that Jeremy a) seems to love (in the romantic sense, considering how Ian's lips are described as warm to him, as opposed to the cold lips of most) and be affected by Ian and b) also seems to consider sex as punishment. From the beginning of their sexual relationship, Jeremys only rationale for continuing is the belief that he needs to be punished for being a murderer, and Ian is the only one who can do this. And the punishment is sex. Moreover, Jeremy's perspective of love is obviously influenced by the "love" he experienced by Greg; a love that is violence. Because of this, Jeremy is afraid to love others because of his natural aversion to violence. From Jeremy's perspective, he seems to continue the relationship with Ian initially because of this desire for punishment and his underlying desire for Ian. However, upon the closure he seems to receive from visiting Sandra's grave and the discussion on the nature of love he has with Ian, he becomes more open to the idea of being in love with Ian. However, I can't shake off that by nature of their relationship being occasional rather than consistent, there still remains that element of habitual punishment to Jeremy.

This is Jeremy's perspective on the relationship, which I feel is more complex and what makes the relationship itself so difficult to understand. This is obviously in part because Jeremy himself is difficult to understand as a consequence of everything he went through. However, his beliefs about love being vindictive and that sex is punishment are I believe quintessential.

Going to Ian, I think it's a lot easier of a story. Between the two of them, Ian is absolutely reprehensible. As peaceful as the ending seems to depict the two, it's undeniable that Ian is sinister in the way he abuses Jeremy. I can't say that the ending is happy. However, I dont disbelieve that that might be intended; I think the greatness of this manga comes from its portrayals of broken people as imperfect. Healing is not linear, and it is not sensical. Jeremy has assuredly healed, he has gotten better, but this doesn't erase the deep scar that will remain on his perspective on life and his prospective relationships with others. Once again I digress to Jeremy, who genuinely is a very fascinating character. I was supposed to talk about Ian, so I'll say it; he's controlling and takes after Greg in that regard. As rational and reasonable as Ian is, as seemingly open to criticism as he pretends to be, as understanding as he posits to be, ultimately Ian wants things to go his way and he's very much subject to his own impulses. His way is having control over Jeremy and his impulses are his desires for Jeremy (whether it stems from guilt or responsibility, it ultimately becomes irrelevant once Ian's heart is set on Jeremy). This is most emblematic in the final trip he goes on with Jeremy, where he makes an advance despite promising he wouldn't. As a means to justify himself, he believes Jeremy being aroused was essentially a go ahead for him. All he wants is Jeremy to be his own, and he doesn't truly care what Jeremy says in a moment of passion. In this regard, it's undeniable that Ian is an abuser. The countless times that he betrays and hurts Jeremy are stomach churning to read. But what's worse is, despite all this reprehensibility, Ian is not as plainly evil as Greg. It's not power that motivates him or a desire to control. I believe he genuinely loves Jeremy, but his love does not entail respecting Jeremy's agency.  I also think that Ians initial obligation to Jeremy was the idea that he wanted to fix him, which likely stemmed from his denial that anything had happened at all (if he fixes him, then all can be well, and he won't have to come to terms with the broken Jeremy). The entire time where they're "stranded" and basically having sex like rabbits was likely Ian's attempt to force Jeremy to have a regular perspective on sex and love again. But of course, Ian, being the controlling person he is, does it only to satisfy the belief that he's helping rather than truly trying to help Jeremy (because seriously, how is forcing yourself onto a victim of SA helping them?) I really hate Ian, but it's more because he's unfortunately not wholly evil. I realize that I initially implied that Ian was more simple than Jeremy, but upon further consideration, he's probably even more hard to understand than Jeremy because his seemingly good intentions lead to abhorrently abusive outcomes.

This manga has so much going for it in terms of subject matter and discussions, and the two key characters are evidently extremely complex to the extent that having read the manga two times I still find myself pondering. The postulating on love from the perspective of someone whose only known a perverted version of it is fantastic and harrowing. Ian also acts as the perfect example to Jeremy of how violent love seems, considering how often Ian's thoughts and actions turn to violence around Jeremy (and I consider Ian forcing himself onto Jeremy violence too, of course). There's also a whole can of worms with Ian and Jeremy's relationships with their respective mothers, which seems to just be a consistent throughline with Moto's work.

Also, a small consistent detail I enjoyed was how quickly Jeremy is able to lie and cover up the abuse he faced with benign situations. And how this eventually clashes with Ian, who finds it weird that Jeremy lies and takes responsibility when it's his fault (I recall the one time Ian hit Jeremy and Jeremy quickly explained it as an injury from PE, to which Ian immediately denies and says it was him who did It). However, by the end, I think Ian somewhat participates In that instinctual lying (but maybe I misremember). There's a lot to appreciate about the writing. 

If you read this far, and also have opinions, do share! I really liked hearing my friend's first impression upon reading this pretty out-there manga, so...

[taylortruther]

performance of gender in the taylor swift cinematic universe //

is her music her giving us a peak into the romanticisms of her inner life and the places she allows herself to get lost, taking on many different narrators?

i'm not sure i understand the question!

but no, my performance of gender thoughts are more about how taylor presents as uber hyper feminine, travis as uber masculine, how their ever so slight deviations from their stereotypes (taylor's wealth/power, travis being idk willing to shed a tear) seem so huge when looked at through a heteronormative lens, which is most of society tbh so i understand why most swifties lose their minds over it even though i also find it funny.

or how good girlism has infected taylor for most of her life and how we see it even in ttpd and how it tells us a lot of what her views of gender are. because the archetypes of good girls and bad boys are basically just gendered relationship norms.

or how the story in ttpd - leaving a ltr, rebounding with someone bad for her, centered on marriage/babies/public shaming/propriety - feels SO traditional, so 'straight'! and it's super common because the expectations put on women are so flimsy and difficult to achieve while maintaining personal satisfaction, and we see this pattern when they crack in some way (sacrificing oneself for a man, seeing that blow up in your face, very badly wanting babies/marriage, being hyper-aware of how people are going to judge you for leaving or moving on or making different choices.)

...also how that relates to taylor's now-common descriptions of feeling tortured by the choice between career and domesticity.

the way parts of the fandom don't know what to do with the fact that taylor WANTS traditional things like marriage, a masculine partner, etc. and they have to twist to explain how she wants them in nontraditional ways (such as, considering joe unmasculine, which, lol) because they are very concerned with her losing her power. that in itself is a symptom of how shame and empowerment coexist in women. and taylor so clearly finds so much power in being a woman and presenting as a pretty traditional one.

the physical presentation of her gender (the clothes, makeup, mannerisms, whatever) but the artistic presentation (witches, hester prynne, cassandra, good girl, hunter, prey, the man, smart, fearsome, caged animal, bride, wife, mother, boss)

...among other things! this doesn't touch on the gaylor of it all which is a very interesting way of considering how her gender is presented when NOT viewed so heteronormatively.