#and I didn’t like the fact that people kinda forced him to make a statement about wil-

[bloos-bloo]

Sorry for going quiet, been busy- here’s some art I did today

[jakegasm]

sin | jake sully

genre: smut

word count: 1.2k

pairings: dilf!jake sully x omaticya!reader

warnings: age gap, doggystyle (come on i think we can agree this is his fav position 👀), p in v, dirty talking???, cheating jake smh, jealous?jake, crying and jake not caring (kinda), mouth covering, rough seggs??, possessive jake in a sense

notes: grab your seatbelts i was feeling sinful this morning so here you go! MWAH!

Everything around you felt hot. Your body. The air. Even the tree you were holding on to dear life. You couldn’t remember how long you two had been out here but it felt like eternity, you weren’t complaining though. Especially when you were being accompanied by the man who was currently rutting himself desperately inside you.

His hands gripped your waist so tightly you just knew that you were going to have to make up some shitty lie to your friends about the bruises that he was for sure going to leave. oh and yeah, unfortunately for you your friends were the sully kids. You were supposed to be meeting up with them but no, here you are fucking their dad. Again.

This arrangement between the two of you had been going on for some time now. Though the age gap between the two of you was great it didn’t bother either one of you. What did bother you was the fact that jake was married. It was gut wrenching to think about how things would go down if you two were to get caught. You’d lose everything. He’d lose everything. Ending up with the both of you most likely getting kicked out of the forest for the heinous act you two committed.

“jake,” you huffed out, leaning your head on your hands that were helping you keep your balance on the tree bark.

“what is it baby girl? y’gonna cum again?” his hot breath hit the back of your sweaty neck, sending a cold shiver down your body making you whimper and tremble. You violently shook your head desperate to get your thoughts out. “i—i want to ah—to stop.” jake only chuckled at your statement pushing you further into the tree where he was currently burying himself into you.

“so soon? why? talk to me babygirl.” you felt like crying. Not a sad cry or even an angry cry. You were scared. This was risky, extremely risky. This was a hotspot for other na’vi people to pass through as it’s a shorter route to hunting grounds. Anyone could come through at any moment and see their leader, their olo’eyktan, desperately fucking into someone that wasn’t his wife.

With shaky hands you reached behind you trying your best to push him away, your nails digging into his thighs. “too—risky.” you panted. And again, your words earned you a laugh from him, his thrust slowing down a little. “well you should’ve thought about that before you teased me all day with this ass of yours huh?” he grunted out before sending a sinful slap to your ass moaning at the sight of watching it recoil.

“this is something you started, hngh—and you’re gonna help me finish it.” Momentarily his hands let go of your waist to grab your hands with one of his hands holding them together on your stomach, while the other roughly but gently covered your mouth. Pushing your hands into your stomach he forced you to straighten your posture so that your back was resting just up against his chest. The sudden change in position sent what felt like lighting volts through your body, he was hitting you in a new angle going deeper than he’s ever been before.

He resumed his violent pace against you ignoring the wetness that fell on his hand on your mouth from your now tear stained face. A familiar bubble expanding in your stomach making your eyes squeeze shut and since you couldn’t verbally tell him you were close, you clenched around him hopefully sending the right message to him. And thankfully it seemed that he got the message right away when he leaned his body more into you, if that was even possible, his breath hitting the mold of your ear.

“you close? yeah? you gonna cum for me?” You nodded your head vigorously, clicking his tongue he moved back a little releasing the hand that held your own together only to place his middle and ring finger between your folds drawing small but fast circles onto your clit. The action made your chest heave heavily up and and down, the struggle to breath somehow now became more exhilarating. He seemed to be going faster the more he violently attacked your clit with his hand, the combination making your head completely foggy. You didn’t care about anything in the moment, your worries from earlier completely vanished as you let the man behind you completely wreck you.

Though his hand was blocking out your moans, some had managed to seep out making the man tense a little. “if you wanna cum, you gotta stay quiet for me okay?” His voice was husky, the sound of it sending electricity straight to your core. “shit.” You heard him breath out, side-eyeing him you noticed his scrunched up face and tightly shut eyes. He was close. But he wasn’t telling you that, that’s for sure.

“this is mine. you’re mine, you hear me?” A small slap was delivered to your swollen bud making you whine loudly against his hand. “no one else touches this but me, got it?” you were too focused on how both his hand and dick was violently bringing you over the edge to even answer him. The hand that shielded your mouth was removed leaving a trail of saliva connected with it, hooking his hand on your chin he forced your head in his direction to look at him.

“all mine y’hear?” With pleading eyes you nodded towards him, letting your chin go he resumed his pleasureable torture. You absentmindedly clenched around him a few more times before you felt the biggest wave of pleasure consume your body making your knees go weak, your hands catching the tree in time before you fell. Your brain was mush, you could hear him speaking to you but it all sounded faded. Only thing you could feel was his thrust that seemingly got faster while he selfishly chased his own orgasm. His dick twitched as he pumped in and out signaling to you that he was close. The death grip on your waist resumed while he mercilessly pounded himself into you, his pattern stuttering. The familiar movements made your eyes go wide, quickly your wobbling hands pushed behind you at his chest.

“p—pull out!” His pace never ceased, ignoring your pleas of wanting him to pull out of you his mind too clouded on his own pleasure. “j-jake! please!” you cried out to him, having a baby out of this would only make things worse than what they already were. Your last plea to him seemed to snap him out of his selfishness when you felt the fullness in your stomach leave, letting you release a breath of relief.

“oh, shit. shit shit shit shit.” Pulling you close you felt his dick rub vigorously in between your thighs before hot ropes spurted onto your thighs and the tree in front of you, his cum slowly dripping and trickling down your thighs.

“no more. after today, this stops.” you puffed out.

“really? we’ll see about that baby girl.” his voice teased. You rolled your eyes because you knew for a fact that this… was not the last time.

[hauntedhokage]

PART 04: Date Night

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: Date night provides some information you weren’t expecting to hear, but you’re not mad about it.

WARNINGS: non descriptive sex, voyeurism (kinda), masturbation

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

“That interview was good, given the circumstances.” Eijirou compliments as he drives to his chosen date location, and you smile as you look over at him. “Did you know you were interviewing him today?”

“No, Ayame was supposed to but she was sick today so they had me fill in. Dropped the question about his dating life.”

“That’s appreciated.”

“You really thought it was good, though?”

“Of course! You’re wonderful at what you do, the fact that he got more comfortable over time speaks to that easy. What was that question at the end though?”

“I dunno, he said it wasn’t a dig at me for dating you but he didn’t exactly answer my question when I asked what that was about.”

“You two talked after?”

“More like yelled, really. I told him he was fucked for wanting to be friends with me just to make your life easy, he said that wasn’t it, but we didn’t get to continue yelling at each other. He didn’t talk to you?”

“Not about that incident. I told him the interview was good despite him being a robot at the beginning, but that’s about it.”

That was weird. Those two texted all day, in your experience, and Bakugou wasn’t going to tell Eijirou that you yelled at him? Did Bakugou tell him anything when you were involved? Why wouldn’t he? Was he doing the same thing that you did, not wanting to cause a rift in his boyfriend’s other relationship so he kept whatever was bothering him to himself? That didn’t make you feel too good, all things considered. You both sucked at this sharing thing. 

“Hey Eiji?” you ask softly, watching as he parks the car at the arcade. You wait until he looks over at you, his smile falling into a soft frown when he sees the look on your face. “Do you think I hurt his feelings? By yelling at him and, I guess, ignoring him this morning.” 

The question makes him sigh, and he’s unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn to look at you better. The hand that cups your cheek is warm, surprisingly soft, and brings a lot of comfort when his thumb carefully strokes your cheek. 

“I think you guys are speaking different languages, so every conversation ends in miscommunication - and now yelling. Bakugou is just- he’s something…unique. His mother’s child, a hundred percent, but for the longest time he didn’t think he needed anyone so he didn’t let anyone in. I had to force myself in to figure out how he thinks, which is fine at sixteen but now he’s a grown ass man and he’s got to learn to open up. All that to say, no, I don’t think you hurt his feelings nor do I think you need to apologize to him.”

“But us not talking isn’t really fair to you.”

“You guys are civil and not fighting over me, so it’s not a huge deal. I’m not sweatin’ it right now, because I trust it’ll work itself out between you two.” That statement has you confused, feeling like he knew something you didn’t, but that was a given considering you were talking about Bakugou. “Personally, I think he just likes you and doesn’t know how to handle that.”

“Likes me?” He could barely look at you most days over the last ten months, how the hell could he like you?

“Like he likes me. Feelings just aren’t his forte, neither are friends. Trust me when I say all of the friendships he has were forced on him and he realized he liked having people he could rely on. Works too hard to be strong, real macho.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Baby you’re the most gorgeous girl in the world, I’m not surprised. And it’s Bakugou, I trust him with my life and I’d trust him with yours if it came to that. You need to be okay with it though and trust that you’re allowed to say that you’re not interested in him like that.”

You didn’t hate the idea, everything you’d heard about the blonde painted him to be a reliable and caring man once you got into his circle. Plus he was very attractive, which didn’t hurt anything either. But if you couldn’t talk to Bakugou then it just wouldn’t happen. That seemed like the natural approach. He needed to get over himself and you needed to try to be friends before friends-that-kiss could become an option.

“I’m not against it. But he has to talk to me and not make me feel like shit when he does, and who knows when that’ll happen.” He’s laughing at that, using his hands to fix the collar of your blouse as he leans in to kiss you. “Thank you Eiji.”

“My job is to make my lady feel better. Now let’s go have some fun, it’s date night!”

You stay put when he gets out of the car, knowing that he liked opening the door and helping you out of it. He keeps your hand in his until he has to let go to fish his wallet out of his pocket to pay for game credits, but then you’re tucked into his side as he leads you to the game he knew you liked the most. 

His apartment was closer to the arcade, and Bakugou was supposed to be on a night patrol, which was why you had no issue with Eijirou taking the left turn instead of the right to get you into a bed that night. The mood definitely struck in the arcade, watching him come close to breaking the strength tester without even needing to put real effort into it had you handsy and he definitely was basking in the increased attention. Release was desperately needed after the way he made sure to push himself against you just right to “help” you in your quest for the perfect plushie out of the crane game, and the additional friction from being on his lap in the photo booth (with your plushie hiding the way his hand was between your thighs and fingers teased your core through your jeans).

You tell him that he’ll have to make sure to tidy up as he pushes you through the front door, his response a mumbled “yeah, sure” before his mouth is on yours and his fingers are carefully working the buttons of your blouse to get the shirt off. Your bra follows quickly after, your hands more concerned with holding onto him than getting him undressed as he picks you up to carry you back to his bedroom. His shirt is off seconds after your back hits the bed, and his jeans follow while you work on the button of your own jeans. 

“You don’t work tomorrow, right?” You only shake your head, starting to push your jeans down and bridging your hips when his hands take over to pull your underwear down with the denim. “Me neither. Thinking we can fuck all night, and then I’ll make you some good breakfast, run a nice bath, then we can fuck again, order lunch with a sweet dessert, eat that dessert erotically, fuck some more, and then maybe go out to dinner, and try to do the whole thing over again.”

He’s proud of his plan, even more so when you tell him that you think it’s a great plan, and the eager grin that stretches across his face warns you of a very long night. 

As if you’d want it any other way. 

Katsuki knew it was date night for Eijirou, but he’d expected the night to end at his girlfriend’s apartment rather than theirs. Usually they always ended up at her apartment since he was often home on date night, and she…didn’t  want to be around him. Or felt like he didn’t want her around? Eijirou had been vague in their last conversation so he wasn’t sure exactly what the problem was aside from himself. 

So imagine his surprise to open the door and be greeted first by the sight of shoes haphazardly left by the doorway, a familiar blouse on the floor, then the sound of obvious bed rocking coming from Eijirou’s bedroom. 

He had ended patrol early, they likely would’ve been done and mess cleaned up before he got home if he’d just stuck to his plan of staying out all night venting his anger on walls in alleyways and screaming loudly while fighting criminals. But the night was quiet and he’d rather be in his bed than kicking at the sidewalk so he didn’t see the harm in turning in early. Now he’s regretting it as he’s quietly moving through the apartment, heading immediately for the single bathroom in the apartment - they wouldn’t hear the shower over themselves anyways. He knew firsthand how loud Eijirou could be, he wasn’t hearing shit outside that bedroom.

The downside was that he could still hear them over the shower, they were that loud. 

He’s now much more appreciative of how often Eijirou was at her apartment, knowing the man’s sex drive, but he’s also now painfully hard and wanting to ram his head into the shower wall repeatedly over it. He wishes he could say the boner was just because of his boyfriend, and being turned on by the sound of his boyfriend’s pleasure. But no, it’s not that. He knows it’s not because the first thing he thought of when he’d first heard the sweet moaning of the reporter that was likely under his boyfriend was how nice it must be to be the man bringing her that level of pleasure. To have her saying his name and begging him for more, 

He wanted to fuck his boyfriend’s girlfriend, and his hand moves on its own accord to alleviate the ache between his legs. The faster this was done, the better, considering he wasn’t sure how long he’d have the cover of Eijirou’s excessive volume to hide his appearance in the apartment and activity in the shower. He’s trying to think of Eijirou, just like any other time he’s jacked off, but he can’t and it’s so frustrating. He shouldn’t be thinking of her, not when he knew that she thought he hated her. Not when she wasn’t his to fantasize about, and probably would never be. But instead all he can think about is her. If their shared boyfriend comes into thought it’s in addition to the little reporter and how she must sound saying his name while he fucked her and Eijirou watched - maybe helped - but mostly watched. 

How fucking irritating that Eijirou was right. 

And as he paints the shower wall with his cum, Katsuki can only sigh as he fights the urge to punch the wall. He shouldn’t have done that, and he was going to have to say something about it. He shouldn’t - couldn’t - keep that piece of information from Eijirou. That wouldn’t be fair. 

But he also needed to get out of the shower. 

Once the sweat and guilt have been scrubbed from his skin, he takes the time to pick up the garments that were left scattered across the living room; putting her shoes and Eijirou’s into their proper places, then going to her blouse. The button falls out of the chest pocket and hits the hardwood flooring with a soft clink, bringing his attention to the pearl object and the earlier offer he made to fix it for her. And that’s when he makes a decision, tossing her bra into Eijirou’s hamper in the bathroom before he pulls out his small sewing kit and settles on his bed with the blouse in his lap and the needle threaded. 

Replacing buttons was easy, and chances were she wouldn’t even remember that the button had been ripped off at work while she had been trying not to stare him down. He’s glad to see the silky fabric hadn’t seen any other damage, since she did look really lovely in it, but in his close inspection caught a whiff of her perfume and Eijirou’s cologne lingering on the garment. He wouldn’t have thought that her chosen sweet scents would pair well with the earthy scents Eijirou favored, but here he was almost enraptured by how comforting they smelled together. 

He’s familiar with the feeling in his chest, but it doesn’t feel right to him. He’d only given her reasons to hate him, it didn’t feel right for him to feel this way. And when he pricks his finger for the fifth time because he was distracted, he has to lean over to bite into his pillow to keep the scream of frustration as muffled as he could.

[half-dead-half-wit]

Welcome to the Nasty Burger, home of the Nasty Burger. Can I take your order?

Mikey doesn't know how he wound up getting talked into working the closing shift at the Nasty Burger in the middle of finals week. He feels like it's some shade of illegal to have a student on the clock past 3 am, but it'll all be worth it, what with Valerie promising him Paulina's phone number for covering for her. Yeah Mikey, keep telling yourself that. It's not like she's already blocked you & changed numbers twice already. She's in love with him, she just doesn't know it yet. Totally. But anyway, that's not even his most pressing issue right now. Oh no, that would be Phantom - THE Phantom. Local town here Phantom. Probably saved the world at least twice and Mikey more times than he could count, Phantom. Yeah, he's been standing - er, floating? Mikey's not entirely sure which, in the drive-thru window for like 20 minutes. And he's been talking. The. Entire. Time. Not ordering food, no. He's just… talking the most batshit nonsense. Even worse, there's a line of cars slowly growing behind him. Mikey had to admit, it took him at least 5 minutes to notice him, initially. Opening the window and attempting to get Phantom's attention hasn't been particularly fruitful. It might help if Mikey said something instead of awkwardly waving & attempting to make eye contact. Yeah, he'll try that. "Uhm, sir?" Mikey tried meekly, to no avail. "So I said, I'm the king of the undead! How am I not exempt from jury duty-" "Excuse me, sir?" He tried, a little louder. No dice. Phantom steamrolled right on through Mikey's admittedly feeble attempts at interruption. "And then the Box Ghost, of all people, strolls in all high and mighty saying he's filing a grievance against me for quote " taking out misplaced aggression" on him! Apparently there's a union for ghosts who died from OSHA violations, of all things! So after the trial, I asked if I could join. Well, as it turns out, since I'm the king of the realm, I don't qualify for any of the protections! Yet I'd still have to pay union dues, can you believe that?!? They said I could take it up with HR, but guess who HR is! The flipping Ghost Writer!! And we all know what he thinks about me. He still hasn't forgiven me for the Christmas Truce fiasco 3 years ago, you know. Like, I'm still not a big fan of the holiday but a truce is a truce and we respect the truce."

"MR. PHANTOM, SIR YOU ARE BACKING UP MY DRIVE-THRU!!!" whether from embarrassment or exertion from the sheer force of his bellow, Mikey's face turned beet red. He's pretty sure that homeless man across the street wasn't staring murder at him earlier. He might've been asleep then, too. Oops. At least he finally got Phantom's attention. "Wh-huh? Mikey? When did you start working at Denny's? Where's Tali?" The ghosty hero seemed genuinely confused, and also like he wasn't entirely all there at the moment. Maybe he's pulled three all-nighters in a row this week too. That'd explain the spaceship boxers and pink fuzzy slippers he's sporting. "Uh, this is the Nasty Burger?" Mikey responded. Was it a statement or a question? Mikey totally didn't look down at his uniform to confirm he was, in fact, working at the Nasty Burger. "Ah." Phantom said. And upon making that eloquent response, Phantom promptly faded from view, kinda like that popular vine, leaving Mikey with more questions than answers and a line wrapped around the building of hangry, sleep deprived, classmates who stayed up way too late cramming last minute and midnight shift workers desperate for something hot and greasy to shove into their mouths. Great. He didn't even order anything.

[ms-cartoon]

Usually, I wouldn’t post about this kinda thing... I’m not even sure this is fully necessary to be posted. I don’t wanna make it seem like I’m trying to grab attention or pity or anything like that just so someone could feel bad for me. No, that’s not the point of this post. But its mostly to show how sensitive and toxic fans could get about a youtube show that’s not even that good. 

I’m sorry to all the Vivzipop stans, but whether it’s a fact or opinion of mine, Helluva Boss is NOT the greatest thing on earth people. And it’s not just because of the writing or the characters. It’s just not that good. This web series is not pitch-perfect! It should not be that great to where you should feel the need to go after people who don’t like it.

If you love this show to death to the point where you would call it your most favorite series, then fine. It’s whatever. LOVE the show. I really don’t care. I’m not gonna judge someone for liking something I don’t like. I’m not THAT immature! I’m not gonna make a comment on someone’s post, calling anyone stupid or crazy for shipping Stolitz or saying Stolas or Blitzo are well-written characters or that Stolas makes a great father. I don’t even bother to make a comment on a post about people not liking critiques about HB/HH, saying something like, “Those haters don’t know what they’re talking about!” “What is wrong with these critiques??” “This is a bad take!” Mostly because I would just be wasting my breath.

So with that being said, why make those same comments on a simple critical post!!??

So I made a post about the recent gif of the new and upcoming episode of Helluva Boss. It’s shown with Striker capturing Stolas and they make a ride somewhere on a horse (which is a complete waste of time. Your main objective is to kill him. Just shoot the frikin bird!) And I was mainly ranting about how it didn’t make sense that Stolas was getting captured. I was saying that despite being tied up he could’ve used his abilities and turned Striker into a stone like he did with an imp in episode 2 of season 1, or not even just that, just any of his powers. Though I did make a fair statement saying that whatever was tied around him could be some sort of special angelic rope that could be keeping him from using his powers. All while also pointing out that he is still free to move his legs cuz they don’t appear to be tied together. And his hand is free; he’s on the phone with Blitzo. I also opinionated that this might be another Stolitzo-centric episode and I was not going to like it. And THAT was when the hate comments came my way (No kidding, honestly)

One of them didn’t even seem like it was harassment, but it still annoyed me how they said I was just whining and complaining. They said, “Duh! Blitzo and Stolas are the main couple!” and “If you don’t like it, then don’t watch!” “What’s the problem with it?”

You wanna know why that’s a problem?

Okay. First off... Stolas and Blitzo are NOT EVEN A COUPLE! I don’t know where the crew is going with these two, but they’re not even official yet. Plus, there is no point continuing with the Stolitz-centric BS if it’s going to take long for them to become a thing. And how can they be?? How would it even make sense? I highly doubt Stolas would even make a good boyfriend. Stolas being the horny perverted dick-for-brains that he is does nothing but flirt with Blitzo and makes inappropriate remarks at him to the point where they have to censor his words. All he ever did was make Blitzo uncomfortable, and he knew that!! 

Not to mention he forced Blitzo into an agreement to have sex with him each month in exchange for a book which is totally pointless now! Especially when there’s this thing called asmodean crystals, where you could use them to go to the living world anytime you want!! And at that moment, he saw through one of the bath bubbles that Blitzo was in the middle of a dangerous predicament and STILL decided to call him at the worst time just to make this deal. Since it was in the heat of the moment, Blitzo felt he had to agree with him just so he could end the conversation and get back to finishing his job while staying alive. That just goes to show me that Stolas was using this to his advantage to make Blitzo agree with him since he saw what was going on and decided to call him while his life was on the line. He totally knew what he was doing!! And since being caught by humans is SUCH a bad thing and would cost your reputation, why risk that kind of possibility with no ounce of concern for your “boyfriend’s” safety?

And instead of seeing Blitzo as a person with FEELINGS, why does Stolas call him his, “Impish Little Plaything”? He’s practically telling Blitzo, “I OWN YOU!” He was literally taking advantage of him and manipulating him!!! And if he loves Blitzo oh so much, why does Stolas still feel so entitled while looking down on the imp race! He’s not even as nice to Moxxie or Millie. And he even abused his butler!!

And then there was that time on their date when Asmodeus was calling him out on having an affair with Blitzo and had the absolute NERVE to try and hide his face!! Why was he suddenly embarrassed about that anyway? This was NOT the first time where he was seen in public with him. He was fully obligated to show himself at the door with Blitzo in front of that guard that wouldn’t let him in. He even flirted with Blitzo in front of everybody at that Harvest Moon Festival!! And now, all of a sudden, he’s embarrassed to be seen with? And he had the AUDACITY to invite Blitzo into his home to cuddle with him!!! 

It’s not like Blitzo is innocent in this either. He also manipulated Stolas just to get what he wanted. Not once, but twice. He tricked Stolas into stealing all of his father’s belongings when they were kids. Tricked him ONCE AGAIN when they grew up, seducing him as a way to distract him while stealing his grimoire. Blitzo didn’t even care about him. He probably didn’t even want to see him after all those years! He was just there to take the book and LEAVE!! And he only went along with having sex with him out of pity.

How can we even call these two a couple, yet Blitzo was so quick to let Sharkboy bang him in his room! And why did we hear Stolas call Striker “sexy” while on the phone with Blitzo in one of the leaks???

Yeah... main couple my ass....

These commenters go on to say something like, “You’re not critiquing! All you’re doing is complaining! You’re just being a hater!!” 

Now, let me explain the difference between criticism and hate:

Criticism - the expression of disapproval of someone or something based on perceived faults or mistakes.

or 

the analysis and judgment of the merits and faults of a literary or artistic work.

Criticism can be positive or negative. I mostly give negative criticism while also showing some irritation and annoyance about whatever I’m talking about. I’m pretty sure that’s mostly where they think I’m just complaining or hating on it.

 Okay, so I like to express my feelings... so what??? EVERYONE does it when they give a critical analysis. And I’ll admit, I do hate the show. I definitely don’t feel for it like I did when the pilot first came out. But at least I actually have A REASON for hating it. More than a few reasons in fact. 

Speaking of hate -

Hate - the feeling of intense or passionate dislike for someone or something.

People always say that hate is a strong word, and I can agree. But the difference is that when you hate something, there is no reason or logic. When you hate something, you don’t care at all about wanting that something to improve or get better than how it is. It doesn't matter, because you just hate it that much! All there is is mockery and disrespect. And when you express hate, you’re attacking someone or harassing them with your harsh words.

And me hating something is different, cuz at least I’m actually expressing the reason why I don’t like it. And I’m not trying to harass ANYONE!! I’m just saying what I think is wrong, why I think it’s wrong, and that I don’t like it! And I actually WANT HB to get better.

Some may think I’m complaining about something when really all I’m doing is stating a fact or opinion.

"the writers will come up with a stupid bad reason” is not a good critique, it's just complaining.

Well sh*t, am I lying??? Man cheats on his wife, and we all know cheating is wrong, no matter why he did it. Oh, but wait- turns out she’s very abusive toward him and doesn’t love him at all! So now, it’s suddenly okay that he cheats. And despite hating him, she still decides to stick around and not divorce him just because she likes to torment him. Why does she like to torment him? Who knows! She’s just evil by nature as it turns out! Man could divorce said wife himself, but only sticks around for the sake of his daughter so she could live a normal life even though he and his wife already constantly fight in front of her. Can’t ignore the fact that he flirts with someone in front of her and continues his affair with that someone despite how she felt about it.... and he just wants her to be happy....

Yeah... definitely makes total sense.

Then they say this, “Maybe Stolas isn’t escaping because it’s a comedy show, DUH!! Things aren’t supposed to make sense. Sometimes things happen and you have to go along with it.”

No...No, sweetheart. That’s not how things work. Besides, for a comedy show that’s not supposed to make sense and be taken seriously, they really try their hardest to tackle some serious moments that are supposed to be soo emotional. And with the way THEY’RE doing it, it’s not very easy for me to just go along with it. There are some things I just can’t ignore and I’m going to feel annoyed by them. I’m sorry (I’m really not)

And as for, “If you don’t like it, then don’t watch it!”

Let me tell y’all somethin’.... If I wanna criticize and post about shows that I think need criticism, then I’m gonna continue to watch the show. If I wanna put anti-tags on posts, then will do that. And if I wanna watch something simply to laugh and make fun of it, then I will. If YOU don’t like that, then that’s on you. Just know that all you’re doing is wasting time typing your butthurt comments about me “complaining” about something knowing damn well I’m going to continue making criticism regardless of how you feel when you can simply just ignore me. Better yet, just BLOCK ME so you won’t have to see me complain about your precious favorite show ever again. I don’t understand what’s so hard about that. It won’t take but a couple of clicks of a button. 

And lastly, one of these comments go on to harass me, calling me pathetic and mentioning this, “How could you hate on something, make art of it and sell it?? You can’t even come up with anything creative on your own! How pathetic!” And it is a VERY stupid reason to come at me over a criticism post. I don’t like HB, there are a lot of people who don’t like HB, but lots of other folks do. So I make art of it and I sell it. And it’s not like I’m intentionally stealing anything. I know I’m drawing the same art style, but I’m creating my own designs of my OCs. I’m not the only person who does this, mind you! I’ve seen plenty of artists do this on Twitter and Deviantart. So what this person is trying to point out here is completely irrelevant!

I may have replied back and said, “There are other people who do this kinda thing. So go and harass them! Go back and forth on their post!” I really didn’t wanna recommend they do this to other people, so I apologize on behalf of the people who sell art with this style or criticize this show for saying that. I was mostly just telling them what’s the point of coming at me for this reason when other people do it too. Like I said, all they’re doing is wasting their time knowing we are never going to hear them out.

So yeah, I just wanted to put this out there. These guys really irritated me. Looks like I joined the club, being harassed by toxic fans. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered replying to them and going back and forth with them. These guys were probably twelve years old. There’s no point in me arguing with children, cuz they never admit when they’re wrong. But if I feel that someone sh*t-talking me, then I won’t let it slide!!

[myfairkatiecat]

Also, this one if you want :)

“Who hurt you, Nathaniel, so that you would isolate yourself like this? Turn your back on the entire world, caring about it only to control it?” Nicholas said, so quietly it could have been a whisper, but here in this blindingly white room it echoed so loudly it could have been spoken into a microphone. “I make my own choices, Nicky,” and oh he wishes he could reach out into the air and take the nickname back like it was something tangible, but he knew he couldn’t. He blamed Nicholas for calling him by his old name, calling him Nathaniel, a reminder of the child he once had been and had finally and gloriously escaped being.

I LOVE THIS PASSAGE! This flew right off my fingers and onto the keys. This passage practically wrote itself.

I knew the dialogue from my musings and planning (read: pacing my house thinking about the Benedict twins instead of being productive): “Who hurt you, Nathaniel, so that you would isolate yourself like this?” Followed by “I make my own choices, Nicky.” I specifically had Nicholas use Nathaniel’s real name so he’d accidentally call his brother by the nickname.

Then I got an ask box prompt for “who did this to you,” and I was like, “time to put this dialogue to use!!” I added the line about caring about the world only to control it because I felt like Nicholas’ line was missing something, and it almost said “turning your back on the world, not even caring for those you cared for you,” but I backpedaled on that because Nicholas doesn’t believe that, not really, and he wouldn’t say it. Besides, the world hasn’t been kind to him, so I wanted to avoid that “after everything these people have done for you you betray them” vibe. Besides, if he didn’t care about the world at all, he wouldn’t dedicate so much time to controlling it. Hence, this line was born.

There wasn’t originally prose here, because I write everything in dialogue first and fill in the poetry later. I do this with original fiction to: since I write mostly character driven plots, I write out dialogue, actions and cues for pauses or breaks and then fill in all the profound stuff and descriptions afterward. So when I came back to this bit of dialogue, I was like, “what would be the reaction to this biting statement, after it was said but before Curtain responds?” So I kind of put myself in their shoes, and when something really, really profound gets said, or something I don’t want to hear, literally everything except the words kind of stands out to a greater degree than normal. So I emphasize the whiteness of the room, how bright it is despite the fact that it hasn’t really been important or mentioned throughout the fic. I tell the reader that the words were quiet, but of course their echo bounced loudly around the room before punching him in the chest and forcing him to feel its truth. (Hey that’s actually a good way of putting it to. I could have written that into the fic. Missed opportunity.)

Then he accidentally uses the nickname, and I knew exactly what I wanted after this—an “oops I showed him I cared” moment. Because using a nickname is familiar. It’s a callback to a time before he believed he was betrayed. That’s a moment of vulnerability and Curtain does NOT like those, especially when he’s in an angst fic penned by Katie, which GUARANTEES at least one narcoleptic episode for him at some point, probably ending with his brother catching him or holding him.

And the very last sentence wrote itself, kind of like most of the things I write on tumblr. Like you know how sometimes in the midst of my silly ramblings or slang talk I just randomly say something poetic, like earlier while describing what happened to the profound words as they echoed around the room? Yeah that’s actually kinda helpful when I’m writing. I wrote that Nicholas reminded him of the child he had once been by using the nickname “Nathaniel,” and then my fingers were like, “and had finally gloriously escaped being.” Which I think topped off this passage very nicely by pulling Curtain’s persona back into this moment of vulnerability for Nathaniel.

So as I said, this passage was written so fast, because I just love these characters and it almost wrote itself. I loved talking about it—thanks for asking about it Sophie!!

[that-cameo]

“What are you doing?”

KXK-V3 stood suddenly, leaned down, and pressed the side of his “head” to my chest. I grabbed his metal shoulder so the force of it didn’t push me and my chair back. I could climb up his frame and onto his shoulders if I wanted to, and my full weight would hardly cause him to budge.

“V3?” I asked again.

“Determining the source of the racket,” he replied.

I raised a brow. “Racket?”

“You make a constant racket,” he said, and his gears and servos whirred as he lifted an arm to tap it against the arm of my chair.

 Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

I wasn’t aware his audio processors were good enough to pick up stuff like a heartbeat from the seat at the other end of the dashboard. Then again, for an engineering robot, he did have a rather humanoid design. Maybe it was just to help me be less lonely. The people who designed him knew how long I’d be out here and that he would be my only companion for the duration.

“That racket means I’m alive.”

“Shh.” V3’s voice modulator made a sound more akin to signal static than the shushing of a mother to a rambunctious child, but I obeyed and let him continue his observations. I sat there with his cold, metal head pushed against me for quite some time before he finally stood up straight.

“You’re noisy,” he said, retreating to his seat. “You’re full of thumping and whooshing and vibrations.”

I kicked my feet up onto the dash. “Yeah, that’s human inner workings for you.”

His eyes—optical sensors, whatever—were tilted toward the dash screen. “Can you hear all of your noise?”

 “Not always,” I shrugged. It was easy to forget how little V3 was taught about humans—which was to say he’d been taught nothing. “The thumping, my heartbeat, I can hear when I’ve been running or when I’m scared. Or when I’ve been trying really hard to unscrew the vent bolts and I’ve been holding my breath and giving it all my effort. It starts beating harder, and it’s like I can hear it right in my ears.”

“Hmm.” A low hum. “I hear you whooshing all the time.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s breathing. That’s as essential as a heartbeat.”

“If humans don’t breathe, they die.”

I guess they taught him a few sparse facts after all.

“If they don’t breathe oxygen, yes.” I took an exaggerated breath in and let it out slowly. “I can technically always hear myself breathing, but I block it out most of the time.”

V3’s head whirred toward me. “Do your central systems do that automatically?”

“Yep. My brain decides it won’t allot the energy to paying attention to it since it doesn’t help me in any way to hear it. I don’t notice it until it’s different than usual, faster or heavier.”

“Hmm.” Another low hum. I liked to think those hums mean he’s thinking. V3 turned his head back to the dashboard and continued plunking away at the keys. “I’ll have to create a monitoring system.”

“What for?” I pushed myself his way, bracing against the impact of my chair reaching the end of its sliding track. He was checking on the posterior engine coolant systems. If we needed to create a new monitoring system for those, I was going to be in for a very long maintenance circuit.

V3’s tip-tapping on the dash keys didn’t stop. “For your racket.”

I looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“A monitoring system will allow me to monitor your imperative functions,” he reasoned, “and therefore alert me if one of them reaches a critical state.”

 Tip tap tip tap.

I slumped back into my chair. I couldn’t help but wonder if that aligned with some programming or mission statement, or if watching to ensure I’m alive was a decision V3 made all on his own. Either way, it was a lovely, thoughtful gesture.

“Your thumping is getting faster,” V3 said, tilting his lenses toward me.

“I’m feeling kinda happy,” I replied. “That happens sometimes.”

“Hmm. It appears I need to run a better analysis of the rate of the thumping and adjust my critical alert threshold. My alarms are already warning me that you are in a critical condition, and you do not appear to be.”

I chuckled. “Tell you what, you keep working on the coolant systems, and I’ll look up what the optimal and safe ranges of beats per minute are.”

V3 nodded, his head bending until the frame of his “face” touched his chest plate. “Bargain accepted.”

thinking very hard about the concept of a machine finding appreciation/fascination for a person's heartbeat or breathing, similarly to how a person would find the hum of a machine's inner parts running to be pleasing to listen to or feel

[spice-chan]

Ethereal

Yan!Dragon King!Bakugou Katsuki x Water Nymph!f!reader

The water nymphs send an unusual peace offering this year...

Warnings: Reader sent as a peace offering so feelings of objectification are present. Yandere themes. Possessiveness. Yandere bakugou but only becomes outwardly yandere towards the end. Death (killing). Not too descriptive about wounds though, although they are mentioned (not inflicted on reader). Bakugou is a bit of a douchebag at the start.

wordcount: 4.5 k 

tags: @angie-1306 (your ask got deleted but thank god you werent on anon) @axther @reddriot​

A bundled-up body was dropped under his throne, the body writhing and trying to get muffled screams to be heard. 

“My king, the water nymphs made a peace offering. She was dropped off in front of the castle entrance.” 

Bakugou’s rich red eyes calculatedly glanced down, breath hitching for a second at the beauty of the roped female—a water nymph. An offering to him. His eyes made contact with yours, seeing the clear defiance and disdain in them, but he knows this look, behind made walls of resistance and will of steel is a petrified woman afraid of her fate. How unfortunate for you. Your eyes were wide and glassy, cute in their attempt at conveying anger, brows furrowed in a glare that merely made Bakugou smirk in amusement. Your mouth, even with the rope muffling every sound you made, clearly showcased a pair of sweet and kissable lips. 

The nymphs who sacrificed you did you no favour as well, for they left you scantily dressed, leaving you exposed to the hungry eyes of dragons around you, irking Bakugou slightly that others are looking at his prize. 

He left his throne, languidly walking up to you before crouching down to inspect you, to see what’s so special about you. The water nymphs never usually offered one of their own in their attempt at maintaining neutral peace. This ritual which they adopted since ancient times became nothing more than a nicety, they usually offered rare fish, nuts, never a full-fledged nymph, and an attractive one at that. Perhaps the fact that Bakugou, the most renowned dragon shifter finally claimed the throne made them feel unsettled. For his savage and bloodthirsty need to be the absolute best was second to none. 

His calloused palms took a hold of your face, ignoring your attempts at deflecting his hold as his massive palm dwarfed your face and made it plenty clear he can easily crush you. He inspected your face from different angles, seeing nothing extraordinary. He took this opportunity to feel up your soft skin which had been tempting him ever since he noticed you laying helplessly on the floor. He then confirmed the validity of the rumours that claimed water nymphs had skin supple and silky as water. It felt like he was running his finger across the surface of a ripple, a mere dip of his finger could breach the surface. 

Heh, you’re kinda pretty. So very different from draconian women, who had thick builds paired with excellent survival skills and shifting abilities, but you...he bets it was so easy to overpower you and wrap you up nicely for him to unpack his gift. 

He lifts you, his muscles bulging and tensing, proving that carrying you was not a struggle to him in the slightest. 

He ignores your useless thrashing, kicking and resisting like a wild bird held in a tyrant's hand. Its wings contained and nails not doing any damage, freedom seeming further and further away. He walks with you on his shoulders, his massive, hulking shoulders. 

Soon enough, the rowdy chatter of the men becomes scarce, and their figures even more so, making you double your efforts in trying to escape the tyrant lumping you on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. 

“Tsk, keep bein’ a brat and I’ll have to tie your shitty hands.” He turned his head to look at you as he said this, cementing his statement with a fiery glare that only infuriated you further. 

He ignored any protest you made after that, walking with you and entering a wing that looked to be heaven-sent from the sheer luxury, gold highlights emphasized in every corner, treasures and artefacts littered around the corridor in a painfully tidy and organised to the very centimetre, clearly they got shined twice a day. However, the further he ventured, the more the previous shine lost its glory, it appeared clean, however, the stark contrast to the speckless shine from before was clear. 

Bakugou stopped in front of the grandest door, he twisted the golden doorknob, finally appreciating your quietness. You couldn’t help it, you weren’t particularly rich back home, so to see this reincarnation of decadence really has your eyes glassing, bright in some semblance of joy, you forgot your situation for a second. 

You were rudely reminded when you were dumped down on a hard surface. 

“OUCH, YOU ASSHOLE.” 

When you looked down, however, every profanity disappeared from your tongue as it twisted in awe. You were thrown on a pile of fucking treasure. A huge, mountainous pile of glittering gold and brandished silver, rubies, and every single gem one could imagine. 

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, scowling at how much he liked the view of you on top of his hoard. He smirked, feeling prideful and accomplished until he noticed that the walls of fury and fire you built up ever since he saw broke in the worst way possible. Your face was scrunched, it felt like your cheeks were lit aflame in humiliation as tears streaked down your adorable face.

Bakugou felt like the biggest douchebag to walk the earth. 

You brought your knees closer and hid your face behind them, body shaking as you sobbed. Your tribe sent you as a peace offering, not caring for the slightest about your well being and fate, and now you're stuck here with a brute of a king who has no qualms with treating you like a glorified piece of jewellery. You didn’t want him to see this side of you this soon, you didn’t want him to see how petrified you are, how weak and defenceless you are compared to him. You wanted to rivers of anguish gushing from your eyes to stop, but they wouldn’t. 

“Hey…” he tried to console you. It was a poor attempt from an unpractised dragon. 

You tried to speak, navigate around that lump in your throat to shout at him, tell him to leave you alone, but your voice failed you just like everything tends to. 

You felt him clumsily try to lift your head in a gesture that fell between a forceful demand and a soothing touch. What is up with him now? 

You relented and showed him your puffy eyes, glistening eyes, looking at him with trembling lips.

“Tch, stop crying! You—you’ll get snot and tears all over my hoard.” 

It was the wrong thing to say, because a fresh batch of tears came, staining the apples of your cheeks. 

“Fuck—no. I didn’t mean that.”  Your sniffling was reduced to mere hiccups, break down halting at the sight of the most feared man on the earth, the legendary dragon king bakugou, most hardened warrior and skilled shifter, attempting to apologise. 

“Shit—I wouldn’t have to be so rough if I knew it bothered you this much.” He pouted, cheeks turning a shade of red that seems almost adorable, turning away from you to scowl at the floor. 

Fuck, his mother taught him better, yet the sight of you made him forget any semblance of manners, eager to get his hands on you and away from the prying eyes of people to who you didn’t belong. 

An innate sense of possessiveness engulfed him, one that can only be appeased with you sitting on the one place most intimate and guarded by him: his hoard. 

But, he’ll tone it down until he gets you more pliant and accepting. 

“Stay where you are.” He simply commanded before walking off. 

You stayed there, mind urging you to run away, a foolish choice your pride keeps urging you to make. Runaway, in a castle heavily guarded, without having the slightest clue how to get to the exit. 

Yeah, bad idea. You’re sure you aren’t welcome back ‘home’ anyway. The thought feels like a sharp dagger slicing your heart, taking its time carving the pain into you. 

Soon enough, Bakugou is back, trying to tone down his intimidating aura, but to no avail, for he noticed you shrinking at the sight of his hulking figure. It stung him a little, making his frown a little tighter. 

“Come with me,” he said curtly, then walked swiftly out, his cape swishing behind him,  making you scramble to follow him, struggling to keep up with his fast steps, frustration slowly rising like bile up your throat and making it harder to stay silent and compliant. 

He took you out of the castle, ignoring the curious looks to the best of his ability, but before he could step a foot outside the gate, he grits his teeth in anger and took off his cape. He bundled you in it and lifted you, once again, like a sack of potatoes. But you were too busy feeling like you were lit on fire as you realised that you were walking around in the outfit you were donned in or lack thereof. You buried your face in the fabric, unintentionally making a sound that’s caught between a groan and a whimper. 

He walked behind the castle, climbing places with you on his back until he got to where he needed to be

When you arrived, however, you are almost glad you didn’t voice your woos. The sight before you was breathtaking, so much so that your previous plights evaporated even if for a minute. 

The scenery was breathtaking, it was a cave, and in the corner, if it was a treasure pile, except merely saying it's a pile was an understatement as it was a mountain in its own right. The hoard you saw back at the castle was incomparable. But that’s not what truly captured you. As he led you further in, you realised the true purpose of this journey. 

There was a medium-sized pool, wide enough to fit comfortably in the cave without hogging up all the space, but deep enough that even Bakugou with his stature could enjoy a swim in it. It was clear too, so clear you felt like you could dip your leg in it and see through your very own flesh, that it would make your skin translucent. It was a shade of blue one could only dream of seeing, and after doing so would live their life content. 

Perhaps you were biased, seeing that it’s in your very nature as a water nymph to be needing close contact with water, and to be enamoured with it. 

All rationale left you though, needing for the water to cleanse you of all your stress and pain, and so bakugou’s cape slipped off your shoulders and hit the floor, your figure leaving it behind as you approached the water and slipped inside. You felt a rush of dopamine override all the negativity inside of you, feeling the water hug you, surround you, shield you. 

“So it's true, huh?” 

You almost forgot he was here, but Bakugou didn’t forget about you, not even for a second. He was watching you, fascination swirling in his pupils as your expression melted to one of near happiness, heart lurching with every cute expression you made, that *he* caused. 

“What is?” You replied, turning in the water to face him. 

“That water nymphs live such carefree lives because they spend them inside ponds and lakes.” 

You scrunch your nose at that, unable to fathom the exact meaning of his words but having an idea. “We don’t live carefree lives. Not all are given that luxury, at least not me.” You said, giving him a once over with a glare to signify that he’s the problem. He’s the root cause of your misery, Bakugou doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s quite unfortunate really. 

He shrugs his shoulders and reverts to his default face, feigning nonchalance. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem like much goes on in your ditzy head.” 

You felt your face warm, could very well hear the aggressive thrumming of your blood as you gritted your teeth in anger. And you were about to unleash the full force of your fury until you heard wings flapping outside. 

You turned your head, trying to take a glance at the disturbance, but your view was shielded by Bakugou, who moved unnaturally fast for someone who made it clear how nothing phases him. And not fast enough for you to think it’s a real threat. 

He came back moments later with an attire you regretfully recognized. 

No, scratch that, he brought several. Pale, light flowy dresses that are often worn by your people. Light enough that they wouldn’t mind an occasional soak in water. 

Your anger dissipated, melting into confusion, then quickly becoming embarrassment as you realised you were comfortably standing in front of him in your underwear. 

You should feel happy, but bile rose up your throat, the taste of humiliation clear on your tongue as you realised with distaste that he was indeed right, you did live carefreely. You also realised you won’t be able to live like that ever again, and that very realisation brought tears to your eyes once again. 

“Tch, just take one and wear it. I don’t need you crying again.” 

Your face fell, and Bakugou felt his heart twinge a little when you responded with silence, looking at your sad face made him feel oddly protective. It’s probably because you were his treasure. Like his hoard right? He always needs his treasure to be kept in optimum conditions. 

Having justified that to himself, he didn’t feel as weird now regarding what he was about to do. 

While you changed into one of the outfits he got you, he dug through his hoard, knowing exactly what item he wanted to dig out. His fingers slithered through countless gold pieces, shining enough to cure a greedy man’s blindness. He finally found it, a delicate golden chain, but what demands attention is the ruby hanging from it. He brings a thumb to it, rubbing the rock appreciatively, liking the semblance of the colour to his eyes. 

You coughed, signaling you you were done, snapping away his wondrous gaze from the necklace. 

You looked really pretty in the dress, he’s got to thank Kiri for the speed run to the shops that he did. The light material hugs your skin, looking stretchy, yet form fitting that it hugged your body in a way that made Bakugou jealous. 

You looked in your element now, but somehow the awkwardness still lingered in the air as you avoided his gaze.  

Bakugo didn’t try to be subtle when checking you out, in his eyes, you were *his* whether or not that’s what he chose so he can at least check what he has right? 

Bakugou didn’t pay heed to the slow spiral of his morals, of the things he worked so hard to uphold. His justifications were slowly manifesting into delusions. 

He approached you, ignoring the way you tensed when he went behind you, turning around to question him, but he was quickly done. Your eyes caught the glistening red ruby hanging from your neck, the colour rich and deep like red wine. You didn’t hate it, but confusion swirled in your veins at his actions. 

“Looks good on you.” The colour looks like my eyes, it reminds me that you’re mine. 

Bakugo wasn’t sure why he held off on telling you what’s on his mind, he usually doesn’t hesitate once to tell the truth. 

Your wide, glittery eyes stared up at him, trying but failing to hide their awe. The anger and resentment took a backseat to intrigue, so did he pick this out for you because he thought it would look nice on you? How strange of him. 

He lifted a calloused finger up, face now cleared and relaxed that he looked pretty, not intimidating, not barbaric, but pretty. He caressed your cheek, smiling slightly when he felt how warm it was. It slipped off his face all too soon when he took the reins back. He squished your cheek, lips once again taking the shape of a sadistic smile. 

“You look dumb” 

Your features hardened, gaze narrowed in anger and hatred that it made Bakugou surprised. Surprised by how much he hated it, or by the sheer intensity? He didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts though, because a dainty hand flew his way and slapped his hand away. 

“You-“ you nearly growled in anger, tears once again coating your eyes because of him. “You rude, barbaric, selfish, egoistical “jerk!” You shouted at him. Why were you this angry? 

“Just when I think you might be a decent person.” You rub furiously at your eyes, shoulders slouched in disappointment as you disappeared deeper into the cave and out of his sight. You were always so naive and easy to fool. 

Bakugou felt the full weight of your words weighing down on him, but he tried to shrug it off. He walked out, silently brooding with his thoughts until a servant came and delivered dinner. 

He stood up, walking to you with tje food in his arms, hoping he could butter you up with it. He found you in the deepest part of the cave, face hidden behind your knees, unmoving. 

You were sleeping. 

He set the food down, bending down to try and confirm his observation, only for a remorse to hit him like a truckload after he saw the semi dried tear tracks. He didn’t have to be that mean to you. Maybe his dragon subjects can handle it because they have thicker skin, naturally, and they’re used to him. But you were just thrust into his life today and he’d been laying it thick on you. He’s coming to terms with his attraction to you and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. 

He nudged your shoulder, not wanting to test his voice right now, afraid it might be too gentle. 

You stirred awake, your face relaxed and serene as you blinked blearily. 

“Hm?” You rubbed your eyes, looking at your surroundings with confusion. Your eyes were red. 

He wondered how much you cried. 

He mumbled something unintelligible, you turned your gaze to him, the sleepiness now almost all gone. 

“What? I can’t hear you.” Your tone was sharp and cutting, and your gaze, now devoid of all confusion, was similarly icy. 

“‘didn’t mean to make ya’ cry.” You nearly believed him, nearly. 

“What’s this? Another act to make me lower my guard? Well you don’t need to, I’m at your mercy. You can skip the pleasantries and just laugh at how pathetic I am.” 

He stared at the floor, well, *glared*. 

“You’re not pathetic.” He simply said, glaring at you in a way that dared you to challenge him”-and I’m not going to laugh at you.” 

He could speculate about his feelings all day, drown in this euphoria of infatuation, hate you for making him weak but one thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to hate him. He wants your eyes to look at him in wonder again, to admire him and fill him with endless pride, to maybe smile at him, he hasn’t seen you smile yet but he bets it’ll be gorgeous. 

It’s only because he wants his treasure to be in optimum condition, nothing more, nothing less. 

“Then why do you go out of your way to demean me?” You questioned accusingly. 

“I don’t, that’s just how I am, you’re going to have to accept it because you’re not going anywhere.” Dread filled you, knowing your days would be filled with humiliation, mocking words echoing in your head like an endless loop. 

You stayed silent, accepting your fate because what else could you do? At least you got your greatest companion to keep away the loneliness; water. He once again waited for a response that never came, and he stood up with a sigh, stretching his limbs. 

“Just eat your food. I guarantee you’ll like it.”

He said, hanging his cape around him once again, reminding you just who he is, making it flutter behind him as he left you all alone. 

He was back early the next day, he found you asleep inside the pool, your head resting on your folded hands on the ledge. The sight had his worry spike so much that a vein was visible on his forehead. He woke you up and scolded you. 

And then he proceeds to lay food in front of you, climbing up to sit on top of his hoard to watch you while you eat, not minding the fact that his gaze was sealed on you for minutes, nor the fact that at some point you scolded him for making you uncomfortable. 

You didn’t like the glint in his eyes. 

In the afternoon he was back with blankets, pillows and other gifts, hoping to sooth the raging waves of your ire. Trying to convince you that he isn’t that bad. 

After a while, his daily visits, gifts…reluctant kindness was all you knew. You were starting to let the memories of your home slip, you were accepting the fact that the previous bonds you forged were inevitably breaking. You were accepting the fact that you’re now stuck in a cave as glorified treasure. 

And it showed, the sadness on your face would linger, numbness in your tone. Even the water was suffocating. 

“CAN YOU STOP ACTING SOULLESS?” And Bakugou eventually couldn’t take it anymore. 

You turned to him, no longer was there a fire raging in your eyes. He’s losing the girl he met in his throne room on a fateful day. He no longer cares whether he has to bare his raw feelings to you, the intimidate, gushy, soft, mushy feelings he feels every time he sees you. He wants to hold you everyday, not like you’re an exotic treasure, *but his* treasure. He wants you have his hatchlings with you, and he wants to see you smile at him. 

“Why should I?” You replied with dullness, not particularly moved. 

“Because…” he looked constipated, his lips clamped together while his cheeks were dusted a cherry red. 

“Because?” You didn’t get it. You’re just like a piece of jewelry right? Why does it matter if you become quiet and compliant? 

“Because I love you.” He said softly, too softly for someone who looks as rugged and rough as him. Now that broke your composure. Your eyes widened, surprise painting your features as the dragon king Bakugou Katsuki just confessed to you. The greatest soldier in the land, the most terrifying shifter. 

He cupped your cheeks, softly stroking the skin, appreciating the soft texture against his scarred hand. His face was so red, even his ears but he was smiling. He was smiling so hard that you wondered whether this was the same person. “I love you, I want you to be happy.” He said, now louder, prouder and more confident in his honeyed words. 

You slapped his hand away. 

“I don’t believe you.” You cruelly stomped on his confession, making his smile fall. 

“But why? Have I not treated you well? I’ve never cared about someone as much as you” 

“Prove you love me.” You challenged, staring him in the eye before adding. 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t though.” 

You turned around and walked away from him, but he decided that wasn’t the end of the conversation and he grabbed your wrist. 

“How?!” Frustration was evident in his voice, but so was desperation. He was genuine about wanting to prove his love to you, what would people think if they saw the great dragon king behaving like this over a woman? 

You ripped yourself from his hold and spat “figure it out.” 

He came back at the dead of night, grunting, laughing and calling your name. You stirred from slumber, eyes fluttering open and peaking out from the blanket you cocooned yourself in. Yoy felt a hand brushing the hair away from your face, lips pressing to your forehead before the fog cleared away to reveal a bloodied Bakugou. 

You screamed, scrambling to move away from him, but he held you back, keeping your supine form in place. With his arms on either side of you, not only holding your arms in place but also supporting his weight above you as he stared down at you like some sort of predator. 

He laughed heartily, and if he wasn’t drenched in blood you’d find it kind of cute. 

“What? Ya’ scared of a little blood? That’s cute.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, asking shakily whose blood it is. 

His eyebrows rose, humming at your question before a cocky smirk took over. 

“You’ll see. This will show you for sure that I love your bratty ass.” He got off you, walking towards the entrance of the cave, dragging a lifeless figure with him before discarding it carelessly in front of you. 

It was the chief of water nymphs. Her old and withered frame looked pale and lifeless, yet brutal gashes littered her body.

“She was the one who sent you here, right?”  

You wordlessly nodded, eyes glued to the corpse in front of you. 

“I couldn’t set you free, ‘cuz I loved you, I won’t stand to have you around. But she hurt you a lot didn’t she? If she didn’t send you here as simply a peace offering, I would have found my way to you eventually and fell in love with you anyway. I don’t keep you because you’re another treasure on my hoard.” Despite the flaw in his justifications, his manic ramblings and his lovesick eyes, you weren’t repulsed, you weren’t mourning the death of the monster who sent you as a peace offering for objecting to her new rules. 

No. Maybe you’re as fucked up as he is, but in a moment of pettiness, you turned to him and smiled. 

You weren’t sure whether the redness on his cheeks were blood or a blush. But his eyes were looking at you like you were a miracle, a shining star, it’s like he had heart for eyes but who can blame him? Who can blame the wild thumping of his heart, that’s hammering against his ribcage like a woodpecker does to a tree? He finally got to see you smile. 

“Do you believe me now?” He said, leaning closer to you, his eyes looking misty, glistening like the ruby on your neck. 

“I do, Katsuki.” You replied, letting your eyes hold his own as you also moved closer to him, cupping his cheek, hand tangling in his surprisingly soft hair. 

He was mesmerised, breath lost at your soft touch. The only physical contact he’s had before was when he was out in the field slaughtering enemies, hurting, grabbing. Not being caressed, because that’s soft and he’s never done soft until he met you. 

You pecked him softly, lovingly. But you soon moved towards his ear, whispering carelessly. 

“You know this could cause war with the forest creatures, right? You broke a centuries long treaty.” 

He growled, giving you a bloodied grin. “Whatever those shitty extras throw at me, I can handle it. They wouldn’t pick a fight with me if they are smart.” 

You squeezed his bicep, marvelling at how hard it was, he’s not infamous for nothing. 

Is that all it takes to win you over? 

You looked down at the chief, or ex-chief. You could still remember her cold, cruel grin as she saddled you up, to make an example out of you. No one questions her rule, no one has the right to, even if she endangers them, even if she takes the land that they always freely enjoyed. 

Yeah, maybe that’s enough, you believed him. Or maybe you’re picking your own poison. 

[moonlit-reveriee]

Baby Blue

technoblade x fem!reader

concept: techno is scared of ‘corrupting’ the reader, but the reader’s kinda into it...

content warning // NSFW, virgin!reader, very minor angst?, small argument that gets resolved

listen to this while you read: BBBlue (Single) by Olivver the Kid

(this fic was heavily inspired by the lyrics of this song, so i highly recommended giving it a listen!)

───※ ·❆· ※───

When Techno found out you were a virgin, he was terrified. Not necessarily of the thought itself, but of the implications.

He’d never forget the look on your face when you told him. You tried to be casual about it, but he knew you well enough to spot the dusting of pink across your cheeks. You nuzzled yourself closer into his side. Whether out of embarrassment or something else entirely, he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was his heart dropping as the voices chanted at him to “ruin her”

Of course you, his pure sweet angel, would be a virgin. He once again crumbled under the idea that you had chosen him. How on earth could a person like you even think of being with a beast like him. Yet alone, giving up your virginity to him.

He hated how horribly turned on he was by the thought of taking it.

The voices had been relentless about it ever since. They were hyper focused on your every move, twisting every thought of his into something promiscuous. When you rolled out of bed in the morning and stretched, a small sigh escaping your lips, it was endless cries of “make her do that again” “you should fuck those moans out of her” “make her scream”

While making breakfast together in the morning, they wouldn’t stop telling him to “bend her over the counter” “take it right here”

Even at times where he was alone, the voices preoccupied him with endless thoughts of you. He was fairly certain they had forced him to imagine every possible way in which he could have you. “imagine fucking her against the wall” “you can be gentle for the first time y’know” “she’d feel so good writhing underneath us” “press her face into the mattress instead” “make her get on her knees and suck you off” “she’ll be such a pretty little slut for us”

He tried to take care of himself as often as he could, but it was becoming impossible to keep up with. There were only so many times a day he could jerk himself off alone behind locked doors. He was desperate, and sexually frustrated to say the least.

He felt disgusting for it.

After a week of this torment, he could barely even look at you yet alone touch you without the voices and his own guilt pounding against his skull. You couldn’t even think about broaching the subject again, because he was avoiding physical contact like the plague. He wouldn’t come to bed until he knew you were asleep, and would leave long before you woke.

As much as he tried to hide it, you could tell he was tired. Something was wrong, but you knew that he’d never just tell you about his problems unprompted. Techno was insufferably stubborn in that way. After several days of avoiding your gaze and leaning away from your touch, you chose to confront him.

“Techno”, you called for his attention quietly, trying to sound stern while remaining gentle with him. He didn’t turn to fully face you, but he glanced at the spot on the wall just above your head.

You struggled to find the words you wanted to say, so you settled on telling him, “Techno, you look tired.”

He turned his attention away from you. “Just a lot of work around the house this week. I’ll be fine after I rest.”

“Then come to bed with me.” You saw the way his body tensed and tilted away from you at that simple suggestion.

“I just need to write a couple letters first. You can go ahead of me.”

“Techno...”, you whined, daring to take a step closer to him. He gave you an almost panicked look, “why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you”, he responded quickly, trying to look through you instead of at you.

“Yes you have”, you responded firmly. A flash of guilt washed over his face at your tone. “You haven’t kissed or touched me for nearly a week now. I don’t even know for sure if you sleep in the same bed as me anymore. Fuck, you barely even talk to me.”

Angry tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you wanted to hold them in. Techno felt his chest tighten at the sight of it. He instinctively turned and reached out to comfort you, but forced himself to freeze.

“There”, you said, gesturing towards him, “just like that. You’re stopping yourself. Why are you doing that?”

He repeatedly opened and closed his fists at his side, wanting to have any conversation other than this one.

“[y/n], there’s just a lot going on in my mind right now”, he said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “I just need to work though it.”

“Then let me help you.”

“No”, he responded a little too quickly, “I- I mean, I just don’t want to talk about it with you yet...”

“Why not?”, you retorted, trying to squeeze any information you could out of him.

“I just don’t, okay? It’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“... is this about me being a virgin?”

“I never said that”, he replied, but the tension in his shoulders was enough to tip you off.

“Ah geez Technoblade, if it was that much of a problem for ya, you should have just told me”, you said sarcastically, “instead of avoiding all physical contact for a like week straight!”

“It’s not a problem, [y/n].”

“Certainly doesn’t feel that way.”

Techno huffed in frustration, grabbing a fistful of his hair at the root. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset with himself, or the fact that a few of the voices were still begging him to “please fuck her already”

“Love, I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want it. They”, he tapped a finger against the side of his skull, “they want it so badly. It’s driving me insane.”

He breathed in and out shakily, trying to gauge your expression in the brief moments before he continued.

“I’m a monster. I’ve spilt more blood than anyone every should in a single lifetime. My appearance is more beast than man.”

He looked up briefly to find you staring right at him, a tight-lipped frown upon your face.

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“I- ... I don’t want to corrupt your innocence”, he admitted.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“[y/n], you’re so perfect”, he answered almost breathlessly, “you’re so kind and so pure. Just living with me does enough to taint your reputation, I don’t wanna-“

He cut himself off to swallow thickly. He almost seemed scared of the words he was going to say next.

“I don’t want to ruin this part of you either...”

A heavy silence filled the tiny sitting room of techno’s cottage. In those few seconds, your eyes widened ever so slightly as his words suddenly clicked in your mind. This hulking boar of a man, an undisputed war criminal, was scared. He was scared of damaging you, your reputation, or your recently revealed ‘innocence’. Compared to himself, he saw you as a pure being who could be tainted by unwholesome thoughts.

If what he said about the voices was true, then his actions of the past few days would’ve made sense for him.

“Oh techno...”, you muttered softly, tentatively placing a hand on his jaw. His posture was curled inward, making him look small despite his size. He was stiff at first, but allowed you to lift his gaze to meet yours. He searched your eyes desperately for an indication of your reaction. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

A small wave of confusion washed over his face, but he nodded anyways. “It was at the festival...”

“That’s right”, you said, moving the hand on his face down to rest over his shoulder, “and do you remember what I did that day?”

“You threw an axe into Schlatt’s shoulder”, he answered, watching as the scene played out in his memory.

You lived with Niki in her bakery at the time, and witnessed firsthand the injustice she faced during Schlatt’s presidency. As the chaos after Tubbo’s execution occurred, you took the opportunity to hurl your axe where Schlatt stood upon his podium. The blow wasn’t fatal, but that wasn’t necessarily your goal. You just wanted to see the man in pain.

“It was a lucky shot really”, you admitted, “I wasn’t even aiming properly.” That managed to draw a small smile onto Techno’s lips.

“And do you remember”, you continued, “when I tried to confront the Butcher Army by myself?”

He grimaced at the thought. You had told him you just needed to make a quick trip to L’manburg for some supplies, leaving him at home alone to recover from the previous day’s events. You returned that evening with a sprained wrist and a couple large bruises forming on your body. None of them were trying to kill you, but you took a pretty good beating from Quackity just for trying to confront them.

“Why are you bringing all of this up now?”, he asked.

“Because”, you said, “this is the evidence that will support my next point.”

He looked bewildered by that statement, but continued to listen.

“I’m not a perfect person”, you resumed, “I have blood on my hands just like you do. I know it’s hard to compare to you, but I’m not devoid of my own sins. I can be mean, I’ve hurt people. I’m not a pure, angelic being who would quiver at a single inappropriate thought. I think you forget that sometimes.”

He let your words swirl around in his head; he couldn’t deny the logic in them. The evidence prevented him from denying the truth of your statement. He could almost be mad that you’d talked him into a corner, but he was more overjoyed at the fact that you knew him well enough to do so.

“And you know...”, you spoke quietly, letting your hand fall down to rest on his chest, “if you did somehow ‘corrupt my innocence’ as you say... I really wouldn’t mind that.”

Techno’s breath hitched in his throat. There were a brief few moments, maybe minutes, where he just stared at you. Then his lips were on yours; sudden and clumsy, but passionate. You gripped the fabric of his shirt as he grabbed at your waist, desperate to have you in his arms again.

“I’m sorry, I had to”, he muttered, his lips left hovering a hair’s breadth away from yours.

“You’re so silly sometimes”, you sighed affectionately, rubbing small circles into his collarbone. He gave you a gentle smirk before pressing another kiss into your lips.

“I’m sorry darling, I really am”, he said as he drew you into a tight hug. He took in your scent and the feel of your skin for the first time in days. It felt like he could survive off the feeling of your arms wrapped around his body alone. He wondered why he ever let himself be depraved of this.

“You know I trust you, right?”, you spoke with your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not sure why, but yes.”

You decided not to reprimand him for saying that. You could help him unpack all that later. Instead, you brought your head up to whisper in his ear.

“You have my full and unconditional consent to take my virginity whenever you’re ready.”

Techno inhaled and held his breath, though for what, he wasn’t sure. It took a while for the full weight of those words to sink in. He leaned back to stare at your face, bringing one of his large and shaky hands up to cup your cheek.

“Are you sure?”, his eyes were wide with trepidation, practically pleading with you to tell him the truth. You leaned into his palm, indulging in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I want you, techno. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Techno was lost in your words. The sudden absence of guilt left his heart light and airy in his chest. For the first time in days, the voices were only a gentle murmur.

“she’s so beautiful” “she wants you” “make her feel good” “show her how special she is” “make her smile” “she’ll be so pretty” “she’s always pretty” “be gentle, no need to rush”

“make love to her”

“... I think I’m ready now.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

ayyyy guess who finally finished writing something!!!

parts of this feel a little rushed but ehhhhhh i was just excited to finally post it. i looove writing techno as an extremely self-conscious character who’s too caught up in their own head to see how ridiculous they’re being. so, this was a treat for me to write

i hope you enjoyed :D

-moonlight

[multifairyus]

okay @cqcophobiq inspired me to be brave and stop camping out in the tags. I’m a real stream of consciousness kinda gal so hopefully this makes sense and not *too* rambly! Ahem:

🔥🔥🔥AUTISTIC HOBIE RIGHTS 🔥🔥🔥

This makes SO much sense @gutsygremlin! The fact that being cisn't is is very common for neurodivergent people also makes me nod vigously to this post. Hobie Brown is built different. Blackness, queerness, and neurodivergent paint such a specific picture for the type of person you end up being and how you interact with the world.

I got formally peer reviewed and therapist referred for autism like, last week?Also never masked—what you see is what you get. And since I didn’t KNOW something was “wrong” with me, I didn’t realize how bold of a statement I was making by simply being myself. Subconsciously for 25 years I’ve more or less communicated to people “…oh, am i not picking up on cues and making social faux pas? You want me to get back in the kitchen and cook up another personality/demeanor for you? This ain’t build a bitch hoe. What you see is what you get.” And it wasn’t intentional, but makes me a very polarizing person! I really relate to the concept “autistic rizz” (charisma). Tons of it—harder to realize i had symptoms cuz i love people! However, with autistic rizz comes autistic “puls”, (repulsion).

So, brining it back to Hobie being autistic and it’s like…yes he’s already cool but so much cooler cuz even without a diagnosis or peer reviewing, he knew he was polarizing, thought different. I feel like being a tall, darkskinned person with very afrocentric features set him up to be “intimidating” and gawked at WITHOUT the punk aesthetics. This wonderful Tik Tok by Chris Whoa talked about how he felt cosplaying Hobie. He felt empowered because Hobie “doubles down” on taking up space being black and alternative, and that people who would treat him differently/get scared off by his aesthetic aren’t people he needs around him anyway. If him being himself is repulsive, in his own words…”Good.” And to baby autist me that’s SUCH an inspiration like wow 🥺 that said, while we’re talking about masking…people have pointed out that Hobie a lot more animated/upbeat/physically affectionate in his suit whereas with his mask off, he’s more reserved and serious. Huh. Imagine that…

Onto the gender bit: I saw non-binary Hobie a mile away. The fuck does that man looking like adhering to not just gender roles but the concept all around? I think he'd be annoyed at how the term “non-binary” is being treated like a third gender rather than a category, and thus just another label. But in general? Yeah fuck that binary shit.

That said personall, regardless of if he’d define himself as such…I get gender-fluid/genderflux vibes from him. Obviously, you don't need fashion as a way to express gender. But I think Hobie could and would.

He has SO much gender?? Genderful even! Why I love AUs/headcannons/timelines where he has the time/housing stability to have an interest in fashion and makeup and playing with expectations. he's so pretty and handsome like if a man and a woman had a baby 🥰

I wish people stop overemphasizing the one “punk” trait from Hobie…because forcing all of his fashion and music etc to be ONLY punk is not punk and I for one adore the inconsistency he swears by. If we can’t pin down a gender for him how can you pin down a genre you can’t, exactly.

Hobie is such a silly goofy guy tho. Like he’s absolutely the type of queer to, when asked for pronouns or how he identifies, say something like this:

“”Gender?” Y’need me to put a little sticker on m’ forehead of what I am so you can work out what it “means” when y’get an eyeful of all this, yeah? Cute! All you *actually* need to know if that you're into me you are not straight. Yup. Don’t make the rules—don’t believe in them actually. But that rule is the most help you’ll get from me to figure that out. Not my problem l'm universally appealing innit?”

i want some more heavily analytical headcanons of Hobie brown (from black queer ppl)

what are ur thoughts. give them to me

[prrism]

A Visit From… Wilbur (Fifth Visit) and Dream (Third Visit)

Relationships: platonic

Pronouns: unspecified/kept neutral

It was well into the evening when you got a message from Wilbur telling you to meet him near Pogtopia. You weren’t sure why he wanted to meet up so late but you figured you’d get your answer once you arrived, quietly making your way to the door to not wake the sleeping Tommy upstairs. After dealing with some mobs you finally reached your destination seeing two darkened figures just outside the entrance to Pogtopia. Once you were close enough you see one of them was Wilbur, no surprise there but the second figure surprised you a little.

“Dream? I mean it’s good to see you and all but I didn’t expect to see you here.” You say, raising a confused eyebrow.

“I have my reasons. And it’s good to see you too.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.

“Never mind all these greeting,” Wilbur cuts in. “Did you bring what I asked for?” He looks at you expectantly.

“Sure, but first you gotta tell me what all this is for and why all the secrecy?” You question. Wilbur let’s out a low chuckle before giving you a cocky grin.

“Look I had to ask you without Tommy getting in the way,Meh already doesn’t like Dream getting involved.” He starts.

“Involved with what, exactly.” It came out more as a statement then a question.

“I have a plan, to blow L’Manberg up sky high!” He says with an almost delighted laugh. You look over at Dream slightly concerned but of course all your met with is his smiling mask.

“I’m sorry, let me get this straight. You’ve been working hard trying to get L’Manberg back and now you want to blow it up instead?!?”

“Precisely! Look, I’m going to be real with you for a second alright.” You just nod and wait for him to continue. “By all accounts we’re actually the bad guys. Schlatt won fair and square in the election and even made some good changes to the country, and we’re the ones trying to take it back by force. This isn’t about L’Manberg or the people anymore, it’s all about having power, so let’s show them all and completely destroy the place.” You blink a few times to try and process everything being said.

“I-…” You’re quickly interrupted by Wilbur again.

“Think about it (y/n), I know you’re tired of all the shady deals they keep throwing your way. You want to keep doing your own thing, but getting L’Manberg back wouldn’t help, I would’ve eventually done the same thing too. Asking for full allegiance or getting you to sign into a contract with me if I were placed back in power. Even if I know you don’t want it, it would happen, it always does. So let’s cut out the middle man so that it’ll never happen again.” He sounded like an absolute madman, looked the part too, you couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just acting delusional.

“I kinda regret jokingly calling you short fuse now. Didn’t think it would become this serious.” You sigh, rubbing at the bridge of your nose. “Regardless, I can… sorta see where you’re coming from, doesn’t mean I agree with it, but I see where it’s coming from.”

“If it makes you feel any better, we could just take the potions off your hands and handle the rest.” Dream pipes in, you’d almost forgotten he was standing beside you. You stare at the Haste potions you’d made sitting in your inventory, you could just walk away with them, it wouldn’t be hard and yet you find yourself handing them over much to Wilbur’s delight.

“Wonderful, I knew I could count on you!” He cheers. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be sure to warn you when you need to leave that festival.”

“Fine, but you just need to promise me one thing.” You say, looking him straight in the eyes. “Don’t go deciding something prematurely alright. Maybe your views really have changed, and I can’t really blame you for that but I know for a fact that you, at least, used to genuinely want nothing but the best for L’Manberg. So all I’m asking is for you to truly consider thinking about what you’re doing, and if it’s really worth it.” You say, he stares at you for half a minute before giving you a nod and strutting back into Pogtopia…

You let out a long sigh before looking over at Dream.

“So what’s brewing in your mind?” You ask, earning an amused chuckle from the masked man.

“What makes you think I have anything on my mind?” He questions right back.

“Don’t play dumb with me, it may be dark but I can hear the cheeky smirk on your face. You’re planning something.”

“Ha, nothing gets past you does it. That’s why I like you, you’re not as gullible as the others… so long as you swear not to say anything of course.” You roll your eyes at this.

“There’s always a catch, but you know I’m good at keeping secrets.” You see him nod then he gives you a pat on the shoulder.

“This whole Pogtopia vs. Manberg ordeal is interesting, to say the least, and while I am more in favour of Wilbur’s side, who’s to say I can’t cause some chaos amongst them. Not yet of course, it’s too soon for that, but if the festival doesn’t go as planned, well…” He trails off but you were quickly catching on.

“Sounds to me like you don’t want the place blown sky high just yet. All just so you can watch things crash and burn longer.”

“We gotta have some fun somehow.”

“We? What we? I’m getting myself involved with this.”

“No. But now you know about it and you won’t tell anyone about it, so you’re indirectly involved.” He says cheekily.

“I- buh- you-” You sputter over your own words for a second before sigh softly. “I’m going home, I’m done with this. Goodnight.” You huff out. Hearing Dream laugh a little before you’re out of earshot…

[sugako]

tied with a bow

suna x f!reader cw: 18+ only minors dni, toys (vibrating panties), (secret) toy use in public/exhibitionism, established relationship, slight dubcon (reader doesn't know they're vibrating panties at first) then consent & enthusiasm, slightly jealous suna, edgeing, accidental ruined orgasm (receiving), public sex/in a bathroom, a handful of "good girl"s, unprotected wc: 2.5k a/n: for the #boys&toyscollab from @fallensvint (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ ty for letting me participate this is such a fun collab idea and i had a great time writing it

"I know tonight isn't ideal, but maybe this will help make up for it."

You turn from your place in front of the bathroom mirror, eyebrows lacing in confusion until you look down at the small bag in his hands. It's a pretty shade of red, complete with matching tissue paper that's been carefully tucked around something inside.

"Rintarou, we already-"

"I know, but I felt like you deserved something more." He cut you off, a small smile curling up the corner of his mouth. You could tell from the held-back expression he was dying to laugh.

Considering it was your anniversary, it was fairly suspect. Suna had a crude sense of humor at the worst of times but had gifted you some practical items and a pretty, delicate necklace with a little black gem held in its grasp. Instead of a nice dinner as you had both originally planned, you were being whisked away to an EJP team event.

When he had been told he was contractually obligated you could feel the disappointment wavering off his body for hours. Though you tried to assure him that you truly didn't mind a free dinner and dressing up - although it came at the price of a little press - he still seemed upset until the day before.

Hesitantly, you reached out for the bag. While he noticed your careful reaction, he didn't make any move to comment, simply letting you find out on your own. The gift was easy enough to spot when you riffled through the paper.

"Lingerie?" You questioned, slowly pulling the black lace from the red package. Shoulders relaxing, you felt some comfort realizing it wasn't something to be worried about. At least, not that you knew yet. "It's pretty." You sighed, unfurling the material.

"Thought you would like it. Wear it tonight?" He asks softly. Smiling kindly, you wrap your arms around his thick shoulders and lean to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah, I think it'll be fine with the dress I have picked out, but why…" a big detail catches your eye and you do a double-take back to your hands, "...why are there ties?"

"Oh," he shrugs, feigning innocence, "I think they wanted to be inclusive, just came in one size. No idea."

The next hour moves quickly between the two of you washing up and getting dressed for the night. Although his closet is impressive, Suna can be particular about his outfit selection. He tells you he wants to look good and professional, it's good for his career, but you think he just likes to dress up nicely at any given chance when he's not in the gym.

As time draws near, you're both nearing the door, smoothing any creases and straightening what needs to be. Though, a moment before you can wrap your hand around the door handle, he's grabbing your arm and pulling you back to his chest.

"Did we forget-?"

"No." He cuts you off gruffly, hiking your dress up with the hand not holding you.

"Rintarou, we don't have time!" You squeak out, fumbling to move his hands away.

"We're not doing anything." He mumbles while reaching back to grab something from his jacket pocket. "Just this," he says as slips the little bullet past the band of your panties, neatly placing it in the little pocket you hadn't noticed until now.

"Ri-rint-!"

"I'm surprised you didn't know what these were to begin with." He chuckles, letting you go and pulling out his phone. "I won't turn it on if you don't want me to, you just mentioned wanting to try-"

"Yes." You answer quickly. A little embarrassed with your own fervor your shift, straightening out your dress although it didn't need it. "I mean, uh, yes, as long as no one can hear it. Could be kinda fun."

His lips curl into a tight smile and he taps a few buttons on his phone, eyes shifting between you and the screen. It starts up quick and fast, pressed well enough against your clit to make you clamp your legs together.

"Rin!" You squeak, grabbing his arm to keep your knees from buckling.

"Whoops," he smirks rather unconvincingly, "Hmm, well it is quiet."

The panties are ruined before you even step out of the car to the event. Suna's hand comes down on the small of your back, holding you close before the crowd can sweep you away. Anticipation swelling in your chest you watch him as he pulls out his phone and flips through the apps.

"Ready?" He leans in to ask, voice barely raised above the gentle roar of the crowd.

"Yeah," you force yourself to take a deep breath and let your shoulders relax. "I'll let you know if I really need to stop for whatever reason." You quickly add, already knowing his next question.

"Good girl." He smiles, giving you back a little squeeze before he taps the screen. The vibe comes to life again, the soaked fabric making it even easier for you to feel it. You take a sharp, wavering inhale through your nose.

It's not as strong this time, but between how good Suna looks tonight, the longing touches you've been sharing since you left the house, and the fact that you're surrounded by people at a professional function, it felt just as dizzying. He would tease you endlessly for how you were reacting no matter what, you already knew, but that only added to the appeal.

The night went on smoothly for the most part. Suna came and went from your side when needed - whether to speak to the press, his captain, or grab drinks and food for the two of you. Though your voice didn't sputter and your body didn't tremble as much as you were briefly worried it would, there was still a certain amount of excited trepidation with every step you took and word you spoke.

While you longed for release and the ache drew up between your legs, you could feel that the two of you were close to the end. Suna had stepped away for just a moment leaving you beside Komori while he asked higher-ups if he was good to leave now. He wasn’t an exceptionally jealous or insecure person, and it was an innocent touch, really. But when he watched as you grazed his teammate's arm with the knowledge that you were ruining yourself, it ticked some feral part of his brain.

Stopping in his path toward you, Suna rips the phone from his pocket and clicks open the app once again for the night. The warning at the bottom of the screen telling him the battery was getting low didn’t even reach his eyes before he clicks the settings up to their highest level.

In the midst of giggling over the odd relationship between Komori’s cousin and one of Suna’s old teammates, both of whom you had met less than a handful of times, you felt the wind get knocked out of you. As you pretend to choke on your drink, you scan the room in a panic looking for him. Before you can spot him, a strong hand pressed into your back, forcing you to stand up straight.

“Oh, hi!” Komori gives Suna a wave and a small grin, clueless to your flustered expression. “We were just talking about Atsum-”

“Sorry,” he really is, “Promised we would head out early.”

“No worries.” He chirps back. “Nice seeing you.” It’s directed at you, but you’re lost. The pulsing between your legs is near unbearable, you’re wound up so tight it’s a wonder you haven’t burst over the edge yet. It’s all you can do to muster out a polite hum and nod to him. Your legs are shaking now, you have to take deep breaths to steady yourself, faking little coughs when moans bubble up in your chest. Suna is saying something else to him, but you can’t quite hear, the pressure in your ears too loud.

Then, without warning, it stops. Fingers digging into the sleeve of Suna’s jacket to get his attention, you give him a sharp tug. When you look, you realize he doesn’t have his phone out and he looks about as confused as you. Realization hits his face like a ton of bricks.

“Not feeling well?” He huffs out at you, less of a question and more of a statement really. You quickly shake your head and offer an apologetic look to Komori. “Sorry, we really do have to go now.”

He barely gets out another polite goodbye before Suna is dragging you out of the venue. You make it to the desolate lobby and are dragged into an empty-looking bathroom before you can even say anything.

“Why did-”

“It died, I didn’t do anything.” He quips, locking the door behind him. “I’m sorry baby, I really didn’t mean to.” Dragging you back to him he traces gentle kisses down your shoulders, already hiking up your dress with a hand that’s traveled to your ass.

“Please, need you, Rin.” Your eyes sparkle at him, pulling his face back up to yours so you can kiss him properly. At first, it’s sweet, tame almost, but your dire need and the fact that your cunt is still throbbing on the edge pushes you to deepen it. Tongue lashing across his, fighting for nothing in particular, everything about your motions and groping hands becomes sloppy and irregular.

“Right now? Here?” He teases out, cradling your cheeks.

“Yes, here. Now.” You demand with your hands already tugging on his well-made belt, struggling with the buckle. Through the silky material of his pants, you can feel how swollen and hard he already is. “Don’t need anything else, just you inside of me.” You continue, half-distracted from tearing his clothes away when his thumb swipes over your bottom lip and presses into your mouth. Without a second thought, you suck it in, lavishing your tongue over his fingertip as you would his cock. All it does is make you needier while your hands tremble around his length, finally pulling him out.

“Such a good fucking girl.” He groans when you swipe over the tip. Steadying your quivering body with two hands tightly drawn over your hips, he flips you around so you’re against the wide sink counter facing yourself.

While you settle your chest against it and spread your legs, he’s making quick work of the ties holding up your panties. “You really did make an absolute mess of these.” He whistles lowly, admiring the spread of creamy slick that’s painted between your thighs. The panties are tossed beside your face, your own smell momentarily taking your focus away from him until you feel the gentle prod of his cock against you.

“Just put it in, I can take it.” You beg, wiggling your hips back for emphasis.

“Bet you can.” He agrees as he pushes in the rest of the way with one fluid motion. A cracked moan breaks from you, and you realize as he fills you out that the cord in you is snapping. His hips barely drag out, shallowly pumping into you.

“Cu-cumming.” You stutter out, hips twitching under his hold. Being on the edge for so long pushed you into such sensitivity, even he’s a little surprised when you start to flutter around him. He keeps up his shallow pumps, wary of pushing you too far when he knows you’ve been teetering at the edge for so long, gently fucking your through until you slump against the counter. “Please…” you weakly call out, still aware of the pleasant draw of his cock that’s nudged deep inside of you.

Not bothering to answer, he offers you a small smile in the mirror, and pistons his hips out at a ferocious speed. The slap of skin and the all-too-loud squelching is making you dizzy, but you can tell by the precious look on his face that you’re not the only one. Suna’s eyes are connected to where he’s getting sucked into your gushing pussy that’s already left a creamy ring at the base of his cock. All he can think about is that you’re wet, so wet, and you’ve been waiting for this all day, waiting for him. Driven out of his own mind by the nearby sensation of you clamping down around him, whining and shaking in his arms, he already feels close.

When he pulls his eyes away from where he’s fucking you, he lands on your face in the mirror. This isn’t perfect, it’s really not. It’s no romantic anniversary night with flower petals and candles, it’s fucking in the bathroom outside a work event. And although he knows you don’t need anything fancy as you always tell him, he feels a twisted pang of guilt and excitement.

Anyone could walk by and hear your unobstructed, pitched moans, his deep whimpers, or the flesh hitting flesh over and over again. At best, this could be a difficult press scandal, but he can’t bring himself to really care, not when you’re begging for him - his cock, his orgasm, he cum to fill you up. His attention is only on you, forcing his hips to thump harder against your backside, balls slapping against your poor, tired cunt that just keeps leaking around him.

You can feel how close he was to his own end, pressure building up in him, cock twitching against you while his resolve falters and his hips stutter against you. The spout of words you had been blabbering on to encourage him got lost as he slams into you with some finality, the warm spray of his cum filling you up from the inside.

Taking a heavy breath he lets himself fall over your back, long torso laying heavy against you. Neither of you attempts to speak, panting and whimpering just above a whisper. After a heavy minute, Suna turns his head to rest against your cheek, giving you a pleased hum.

“Maybe next time I should just keep the battery low.”

[ladyodium]

I love this discussion because it brings up so many other points and questions kinda beyond the scope of the story.

1. This is such an interesting question! We all know in the show of how Rhaenyra and Daemon faked Laenors death and then quickly got married, and we also know that if Leanor ever came back from wherever he is it could basically implode on them. Now, Aegon III and Viserys II are legitimate because Daemon and Rhaenyra married, this would mean that they should inherit before Rhaenyra’s other children. However, I don’t think Rhaenyra would do that because it would prove to the realm that her children are illegitimate and it would put them in a dangerous position. Laenor, Coryls, and Viserys are all ignoring the glaring issue about these boys, and they have to do that because one, Coryls’s ambition to put his blood on the throne is strong during this time, he said himself “history doesn’t remember blood, it remembers names”, two Laenor agreed to claim those boys as his own because he knew what would happen to Rhaenyra’s already fragile claim. That’s not to discredit him, he did love those kids. However, I don’t think he could connect with them on a fatherly level because they weren’t his blood. He also knew that Rhaenyra was sleeping with Harwin, so that was also another way for him to protect the whole family. Visery’s however, he knew. He just ignored it because HE knew that if he admitted those kids were bastards Rhaenyra’s claim would be put into question and he’d be forced to denounce her as his heir.

You can call them bastards because that’s what they are. They are illegitimate children. They will never be acknowledged as legitimate in the eyes of the kingdom because the king has to admit they were illegitimate before and by doing that he would also put in question Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne. The realm is not blind, they know. Now in the books it’s different because Laenor is white instead of black in the show, so Rhaenyra, in the books, can claim that Rhaenys’s Baratheon blood was shown. 

2. Otto Hightower said “Even if Rhaenyra is Jaeharyes himself reborn, she is still a woman.” and that is a statement Rhaenys tried to warn Rhaenyra about. You have to EARN the realms trust, their respect and show you are worth fighting for. From the show, young Rhaenyra was named heir and in that time she was also dealt with a large blow from Alicent marrying her father. She struggled to find a place for herself and struggled even harder with the fact that she was alone. Now, when Aegon is born I think she should have created a closer bond with her siblings. I feel like that would have helped a lot. She kinda just stops trying after a while. Rhaenyra was really frustrating when she was younger because she really didn’t have anyone to help her become a ruler. Princess Rhaenys had people to teach her and guide her to be Queen, Rhaenyra doesn’t have that, she has Daemon instead. Which isn’t good. She continues to throw these tantrums and defies the kings orders, showing that even she thinks herself above the Kings law, and Viserys lets her because he himself is a people pleaser. Older Rhaenyra I also struggle to understand because most days she’s so lifeless. She’s like a husk of herself and her kids are her joy. She seems like she doesn’t want the throne which is the opposite of Book Rhaenyra. I won’t even talk about Aegon cause he wasn’t an option in the first place. Some example that I can think of in the show are:

1. When she goes on her tour to find a husband, and comes back before the year is up against her father’s word. She also insults the men who have come to ask for her hand.( which honestly, she kinda ate that.)

2. When she confronts her father about getting married during Aegon II birthday hunt. She makes this scene in front of all the Nobles who are there to see. It shows that she’s quick to anger and slow to forgive. Then she runs off and comes back soaked in blood. Honestly, when she encountered the White Hart she should have killed it or even took that as a sign to step up.

3. Sneaking out with Daemon and being caught in a brothel with him. OMG by far the dumbest incident that I have to sight. 😭 oh my lord.

4. Older Rhaenyra sleeping with Daemon in the day of his wife’s funeral was a slap in the face, then marrying Daemon secretly before the mourning period of both of them were up.

I can’t say the book examples cause some people might get spoilers and I’d hate to do that to everyone, but just know Book Rhaenyra is proud and stubborn, she’s quick to anger and slow to forgive.

3. I think at the end of the day, Rhaenyra had no choice for that succession matter. I know Rhaenyra was also someone who wanted love and Ser Harwin Strong was just not the option, okay?! Brown hair and brown eyes are dominant traits, Blonde hair and purple eyes are recessive. Need I saw more? That’s basic genetics. Anybody can figure that out. Also, that argument that the boys could have Baratheon hair is not gonna work. Baratheon's always have had black of hair, not brown.

But, I’ll agree Rhaenyra was usurped because she was a women. Her actions, however, further cemented the cause of the Greens. I don’t know why she acted surprised that was gonna happen. Everyone knew. 

To this last point, a shaking foundation that’s built on tradition is a fragile thing. To avoid the whole war breaking out, they should have called a Great Council just like Rhaenys and Viserys went through. It might have changed some things.



The amount of blood-purity comments I see in HOTD discussions is honestly wild to me because it’s like. There’s legitimately people saying Rhaenyra can’t or shouldn’t be queen because she’s trying to put “bastards” in the line of succession.

1. Who. The hell. Cares. Who their actual biological father is? Why do we care? What difference does it make? Laenor, Corlys, Viserys recognized them and reaffirmed them in the line of succession MULTIPLE TIMES. No one *who is actually important to the issue* cares who the boys’ biological father is, and their claim comes from their mother, the named heir, the Queen, who can then decide who her heir is, just like Jaehaerys did, and just like Viserys did. Laenor was a gay man, they said they tried to conceive. They couldn’t. What other option was there? Laenor seemed to have no problem with Harwin helping them sire their children while he went off and enjoyed himself.

(Also, the plot to usurp Rhaenyra came long before the three Velaryon boys were born because *she was a woman.* The appearance of her three oldest boys was just another convenient excuse)

2. Would a child in modern day conceived through surrogacy or sperm donation be considered illegitimate/a bastard if one of the parents dies but still has that child in their will? Can the other family members contest it on the basis of “well they’re not blood related so they can’t inherit anything.” Nope. Because that child is recognized and legally theirs, therefore entitled to whatever the parent/family says.

[seokjinsonlyone]

fall into your blu

pairing: seokjin x female reader

summary: “You don’t have to look like Beyoncé for me to be attracted to you.”

genre: friends to lovers; fluff; slow burn? kinda

warnings: there’s like a brief joking mention of booty calls; oc is like securely insecure; not much else really lol

rating: pg

wc: 7.1k

“I’m sorry I can’t... accept... this?” She winced, closing the door behind him. Felt kind of bad for not letting him get more than five feet into her place before shooting him down. She just didn’t want to have this conversation outside her building. Felt worse for referring to his confession as if it were a dirty gym sock.

His face fell. “Why not?” She doesn’t know what he thought would happen in this situation honestly. They’ve been friends for a good few years. Jin’s seen what she’s like when these kinds of things happen. 

“Because I’m not pretty,” she stated plainly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, to her, it was. 

“You are,” he refuted.

“I’m not.” She wasn’t. She consumed enough media and spent enough time around actual pretty people in her lifetime to note the difference.

“You are to me.”

And well, okay, she wasn’t going to argue with him. Wasn’t any point in that. “But, like, I’m not, and I mean that’s fine for me. Like I accepted it a while ago, but it’s not fine for you.” 

And it was fine. Not being pretty wasn’t the end of. It didn’t make her any less valuable as a person. In fact, it helped her develop a top tier personality. Also, less people bothered her and she didn’t have to worry about anyone having high expectations for her simply because of her appearance. Sure, she cried over her lack of physical beauty every few months, but who didn’t? Such was life as a twenty something.

 “Are you saying this because you don’t like me? You can just tell me if you don’t.” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her, trying to read between the lines of her statement. There wasn’t anything underlying it, though.

“I mean... honestly I can’t say that I’ve put too much thought into us, like, together. But that’s, mainly because you’re out of my league.” Sure when they first met sometimes he’d smile at her and her heart would drop or her stomach would erupt with butterflies when he texted her, but she never let it get much further than that. Nipped it right in the bud. There was no point in a two pining over a ten. Okay, she didn’t see herself quite as a two. On her best days, she was a solid five maybe a five and a half with confidence but still. So, she settled into the role of friend easily and she liked it there. There was no ambiguity, she didn’t have to torture herself trying to analyze every little thing he did and said to her because there was no possibility of more. Until now, she guessed.

“I’m literally not?” He was. 

“You are though.” Jin opened his mouth but she shook her head explaining further. “Objectively speaking, you’re very handsome and you’re a good dude on top of that. We’re friends right?”

He nodded hesitantly.

“Okay and friends should push each other to do better. which is why I can’t accept... your feelings?” She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that he could possibly want to be anything other than friends. She couldn’t believe they were actually friends. The only time she was friends with straight males were when they were friends with her pretty friends and thus were forced into spending time with her and realized she was actually cool aside from, like, not being pretty. “You can get someone who’s hot and a good person.”

“What if I don’t want someone who’s hot and a good person?”

“Then you’re stupid,” she snorted. “I want someone who’s hot and a good person.”

“You literally just said I was both of those things.”

“Yeah, but that’s unrealistic. What would we look like walking next to each other holding hands?”

“A couple.”

She curled her lips at him. “Yeah, a couple of clowns.”

His lips dropped into a small pout clearly unamused with her line of reasoning, which again was very confusing seeing as she was spitting facts. The logic was impenetrable. “I’m being serious,” he whined, “ It took a lot to work up the courage to say something, and you’re kind of breaking my heart.”

And, well she didn’t want that. Like, she didn’t do feelings. Most days she’d rather die than emote, but she ain’t want to break his heart. She sighed, sitting on the couch and running her hands down her face, decidedly tucking her humor-coated defense mechanism away and tried to level with him. “I just don’t understand where all this is coming from?” 

Which wasn’t the entire truth. She noticed he was acting a bit different toward her, a little more soft (lending her his jacket and tucking her underneath his arm when she was cold), a tad more vulnerable (sometimes when she asked the classic ‘how are you?’ he actually told her instead of responding ‘i’m fine’), a bit more thoughtful (when she was over his place the other day and was feeling a bit peckish he had some of her favorite snacks, even the ones he didn’t particularly care for. She looked at him like he had grown a second head, but he shrugged it off with a ‘you like it, don’t you?’). So, she can’t say this is all completely coming from left field, but she genuinely didn’t expect a confession. Didn’t expect him to grab her hand before she could go inside after dropping her off from their day out and tell her “I like you. I like you so much.”

Absently, she wonders if their outing had been some sort of ‘not date’ date. Now that she was thinking about it, they’d been spending a lot of time together just the two of them lately. The first few times when he invited her out she’d come expecting at least a few of their other friends to be with him, but didn’t really think much of their absence. She enjoyed his company and didn’t want him to think otherwise. 

She also wonders if she had been subconsciously leading him on. She never actually rejected any of his advances, if that’s what they actually were. When he wrapped his arm around her, she leaned into his touch. It was, it was odd, but not unwelcome because she was cold. When he confided in her, she listened and tried her best to be comforting and boost him up. As a friend, she felt that was her obligation. When he bought her snacks or paid for her meals, she didn’t put up too much of a fight because well a) free food and b) she treated more than a few times.

“You don’t have to look like Beyoncé for me to be attracted to you.”

She stared at him blankly. He had a point there. Even though she wasn’t anything to write home about and despite her earlier declaration that she wanted someone who was hot, she definitely had crushes on a few people who were worse for wear to say the least. She also knew that if he was here telling her about anyone else, Beyoncé or not, she’d be happy telling him to go for it. But, it wasn’t anyone else. It was her. And, her brain was quite literally short circuiting at the thought of him… and her… them… together. 

Her silence was perturbing him. She could tell by the way he forced a smile onto his face and stood up. “Hey, look, don’t worry about it. It’s, it’s fine. I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

But, she wasn’t worried about that. She knew they’d be okay. They had the same personality type. They were very similar in many ways. She knew that if she really wasn’t for it, they’d still be friends. She would give him a little space, and if they happened to be brought together through their mutual friends she’d ignore whatever crush he’d allowed himself to develop and pretend everything was fine. Jin would deal with his feelings privately and put on a smile in front of her. It might be a bit awkward for a while, but they’d be okay. She knew that. It’s why she reached out her hand, interlocking their fingers, to stop him before he walked away. 

“Hey, don’t– don’t go. I mean, you can if you want to, but like–“ What was she trying to say? If you looked into her brain it’d probably resemble that one episode of spongebob when all the files got thrown out trying to figure out fine dining and everything was up in flames. The little hers running around her mind didn’t know what to do. She took a deep breath. “Like I said before, I haven’t really thought about us, but I’m not… opposed to it.”

His shoulders slouched and he released a breath looking back down at her, squeezing her palm. “Okay, okay, that’s good. A chance is all I’m asking for.” He shot her a small smile, then flicked her forehead.  “I’ll still go, though. Let you get a head start on thinking. I know it takes you a while.”

Her jaw dropped feeling utterly scandalised. “I changed my mind. I don’t even wanna be friends anymore.”

“Pffftttt. You wouldn’t be able to live without me.”

She scoffed in return. “Yeah right. In your dreams.”

“Yes, you are.” He dropped a wink and spun out the door.

She stared blankly in his wake. Did he just admit to dreaming about her? 

She sank down further in the bathtub, face being the only thing left unsubmerged. Well, her face and like the entirety of her legs. They were leant against the wall of the shower. She wasn’t tall by any means, but her tub definitely was not meant for the soaking she liked to do. 

Despite being young, she felt like she inhabited the body of someone twice her age and could honestly lay semi conscious in hot water (nearing cool by the time she got out) until you couldn’t distinguish her from a dried date. She also just liked being in the bathroom because it was the only place she was truly alone and disconnected. Well, her phone was always an arms length away because not having her phone nearby gave her anxiety and not every time she entered a bathroom did she want to be left to her thoughts. Too much time in her mind was detrimental to her mental well-being. 

However, she had a lot to dissect tonight. She thought taking a bath would calm her down and while it did help channel her thoughts a bit, it did nothing to stop the fluttering in her heart. It was nice to know that she was liked. That someone saw something in her she didn’t see in herself. It also helped that said person was one of the most objectively handsome people she’s ever seen. But, that’s what worried her the most. It was fine that he liked her. It would be fine if that was all it was. If she could live in this purgatory of being liked, of having his attention no strings attached she would. She held the upper hand. He essentially handed his heart over to her while hers was still firmly beating in her own chest. But, what would happen if she started to reciprocate his feelings? If she gave him her heart in return?

Because the thing is, she knows it would be easy to give into him. It was easy being his friend. They just clicked in all the right places. It’s not like they were super close. Like, they’d definitely grown closer over the last few months, enthralling each other in late night text conversations and sending so many voice messages one could argue that they’d might as well been on a phone call (that consumed a very different level of social energy they both rarely could expel tho), but again it wasn’t the fear of losing him that made her hesitate. It was the fear of losing herself. If she gave herself over to him fully and somewhere along the line he decided he didn’t want her, it’d devastate her. She could almost see the heartbreak, the loss of self esteem, the ongoing existential crises from there. It was scary. 

And it’s not like she thought Jin would intentionally hurt her because she didn’t; she trusted him. He was very honest and sincere. It was something she greatly admired about him. He was soft in all the places she was hard. Rounded in all the places she was sharp, and it made her grateful that life was kind of enough to grant him such privileges. Life hadn’t been as kind to her. When you grow up not being pretty on top of lacking social skills on top of having uncommon interests, things tend to be a bit different, more difficult. 

Still, she wondered when would she ever get this opportunity again? It’d taken this long for one to arise, who knows if another chance would ever come.  And as much as she liked to think about each and every way this situation could go wrong she owed it to Jin, to herself, to think about what could happen if things went right. Typically hope and expectations were squashed down immediately. It was the number one way to play yourself, but just this once she allowed her mind to wander to the optimism deep within.

Them as a couple seemed a bit far fetched from a bird’s eye view, but personally she could kind of see them together. She could see herself happy with him and vice versa. Could almost make out him staring at her in adoration. Maybe they could be in love. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself. But maybe. Just maybe, it might work. 

She felt strange. In a good way. Kind of like she unlocked some sort of hidden secret to life. She felt normal. And, it’s not like she was some kind of weird, misfit, loner. She was cool. She had a good group of friends. She had acquaintances. Her coworkers all liked her and they bonded over their mutual dissatisfaction with their place of employment. But, she’d never had whatever this was. Sure, she’s been the object of a few people’s affections but never ones she would ever think about looking twice at. In turn, she’s had a few crushes who didn’t look in her direction. This was different though, Jin was looking at her and he was… definitely in her peripherals.

It wasn’t as if years of repressed feelings came rushing to the surface when he told her he liked her because they genuinely weren’t like that. But, the more she toyed with the idea the more appealing it sounded. She couldn’t allow herself to dive head first though. She needed to be sure this was real. It’s why she texted him after a few days of very little interaction, only signs of life in the videos she sent him from tiktok and his phone generated reactions.

[6:42pm] y/n: you up? 👀

She tried to be as casual as possible, but she’d never been this nervous texting him before. A little afraid he’d rescind his confession.

[6:45pm] jinnie from the block: it’s not even 7 why wouldn’t i be up

[6:47pm] y/n: ion know 🤷‍♀️ i heard old people go to sleep early

[6:47pm] y/n: have dinner round bout 4 and sleep by the time sun sets

[6:48pm] jinnie from the block: omg i’m not that much older than you

[6:48pm] jinnie from the block: anyway what’s up? this a booty call??

She nearly dropped her phone on her face.

[6:48pm] y/n: JIN ADSFLJADSFLJ

[6:48pm] y/n: have some decency booty call hours are between 10pm and 3am

[6:49pm] y/n: ion make them kinds of propositions in the light of day 😤🤚

[6:49pm] y/n: no omg i just wanted to know if you wanted to grab lunch tomorrow?

[6:51pm] jinnie from the block: booty ✍️  call ✍️ between ✍️ 10 ✍️  and ✍️ 3 ✍️. Got it.

[6:52pm] jinnie from the block: you asking me out on a date??? 👁👄👁

Her brain short circuited once again. Was she asking him out on a date? She didn’t think she was. She might’ve been. She was going to tell him that she was going to give him the chance he asked for. Things would change a little after that, wouldn’t they? They’d be like seeing each other. She was probably making this a bigger deal than it needed to be. She could tell she definitely was when he texted her again after she failed to respond for five minutes.

[6:57pm] jinnie from the block: hey sorry i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable

[6:58pm] jinnie from the block: i was just joking. it doesn’t have to be a date 

[7:01pm] y/n: lol no ur fine that was fine i’m just being 🤠😃🤡

[7:02pm] y/n: i mean it’s not not a date

[7:02pm] y/n: like what really is a date 🧐

[7:03pm] y/n: according to google it’s a social or romantic appointment or engagement so i guess technically it is a date

[7:04pm] jinnie from the block: sweet ❤️ where we going

Now she was standing in front of the place they’d arranged to meet up, telling herself to calm down. No need to be feeling lightheaded at the sight of Jin. It was just her friend who liked her. Her friend that could be her boyfriend in a few weeks. It was fine. Everything was fine. She decidedly squashed the majority of those feelings down and entered the building. She was already ten minutes late, but he should’ve known by now that time was relative to her.

She circled her head around the area trying to spot him. She for sure saw his car in the lot. It didn’t take long to find him seated in a booth at the far corner of the restaurant. Was a wave a sufficient greeting? Was she supposed to hug him? A handshake would be weird, right? Why was she so unfamiliar with the protocol for this situation? So caught up in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized she already approached the table and was hovering awkwardly next to it. 

He scrunched his face up at her. “Don’t be weird about it. Sit down.”

“I’m not being weird about it.” She was. But, like, now she didn’t know where to sit. Across from him? That left room for a lot of eye contact. Did she want that? Sitting next to him felt rather intimate though. She didn’t get to make that decision as Jin rolled his eyes and pulled her down into the spot next to him then flicked her head. She let out a small squeak at the action. “Why you keep doing that?”

“Because you keep being weird.”

“I’m cooler than you,” she scoffed. 

“Are you?”

“Yes,” she bit back before retracting her answer, giggling. “No. Well, maybe. See you act weird and then apologise for it. I never apologise for my weird behaviour.”

He raised one brow at her. “And that makes you cooler than me?”

“Uh, yah. In movies, the cool girl is always the one who’s quirky and never apologises for being so.”

“Mhm. Okay,” he said dismissively, beginning to peruse the menu. “If you could be in a movie, which one would you be in?”

“A bug’s life,” she replied immediately.

His eyes widened, looking down at her. “No hesitation? A Bug’s Life? Have you been waiting to be asked this your whole life?”

She shrugged. “No, it was just the first movie that popped into my head. I’ll stick to it, though. You got an innovative social outcast who brings together a ragtag bunch of misfits who end up starting and winning a class war and saving their people from subsequent oppression. Overthrowing the bourgeoisie? Now that’s what I’ve been waiting my whole life to do.”

He chuckled. “I can’t believe you just used the word ragtag.”

“Using the word ragtag is also something I’ve been waiting my whole life to do. There are surprisingly little opportunities to use it. You know what else there is surprisingly little of? Quicksand.”

From there they launched into conversation about any and everything. She was talking so much, so animatedly that she barely touched her food. She’d take a bite every now and then when he tapped her plate with his utensils, but he ultimately picked at her food more than she did, stealing small bites in between her musings on various conspiracy theories. It wasn’t rare for her to not eat while engaged in conversation, but it was rare for her to be engaged so deeply in conversation outside her really close girl friends. She took a mental note at the fact and added it to the ever growing list of reasons why being with him wouldn’t be so bad. 

At some point, she’d begun to turn towards him, so much so that by the time she’d gotten a to-go box for the rest of her meal that she was nearly completely facing him. He was listening to her ramble on about straws being a cash grab by the fast food industry with his elbow on the table, head propped up on his hand, a small smile gracing his face when he reached for her hair sweeping a few strands that escaped from the mass of curls she had pinned back away from her eye. She stopped talking instantly, mind going blank. She ain’t never had her hair swept back, her face gently caressed by a man.

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not,” she protested, face heating up further.

“You are.” 

She wanted to knock the amused smirk off his face. Retribution would come at some point. “I’m brown. You can’t tell if I’m blushing.”

He snorted. “It’s written all over your face and,” he pressed a palm to her cheek, “your cheeks are on fire.”

She smacked his hand away. “They’re not. I’m just naturally hot blooded.” That was a lie. They both knew it.

“You’re anemic. You are the coldest person I know. You cry when the weather drops below 70.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, hiding her face in her hands. It was in her moment of shame, unintentionally expressing feelings, that she remembered the whole reason they were there in the first place. She always forgot herself once she got started up on the bourgeoisie. Still, she was unsure how to approach the topic. She wrestled back and forth for a few seconds before mentally shrugging. Direct was probably best. They were both grown. “So… you like me?”

He gulped, seemingly nervous at the shift in topic. “Hey, listen, like I said don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

“I mean… if you want me to forget about it I will. Otherwise, I was willing to worry about it.” 

His eyes widened at you, catching your gaze before looking downwards. “Really?”

She smacked his arm, sliding out of the booth and grabbing the bag holding her food which he took out of her hand after he slid out. “What? You think I’m mean or something?” To be fair she was a little mean, but she wasn’t cruel. “You think I would sit here and have lunch with you if I was gonna tell you to leave me alone after?”

“I don’t know! You were calling me bro this whole time. I thought you were preparing me for the friendzone!”

She rolled her eyes. “Bro, I call everyone bro.”

“That’s not true. You call children honey,” he corrected, holding the door open for her.

She pursed her lips at him. It was weird to know that Jin had been actively perceiving her. Like he just knew stuff about her. And it’s not like she didn’t know anything about him; they’d been friends for a while. But, she didn’t pay special attention to things like how he addressed children. It made her feel… something. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. It’s just…” she gesticulated wildly trying to figure out the right words to say. “I don’t know. It’s weird that you notice me. That you like me. Nobody likes me.”

“My name’s Seokjin actually,” he joked. She rolled her eyes. “Besides I’ve been noticing you for a while, there’s a lot to like,” he admitted, voice softening.

Her heart squeezed in her chest. She liked the way he made her feel. It was scary, but she liked it. She liked it so much that she threw caution to the wind and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked side by side. She could feel him burning a whole into the side of her face, but she refused to make eye contact. She was acting so out of character. She was going to have a serious chat with herself later. “Don’t be weird about it,” she mimicked.

He giggled but stopped staring at her so she guessed it was alright. “You into PDA?”

“Ummm… I don’t think so? It doesn’t seem like something I’d be very into. I mean, this is okay,” she answered, swinging their conjoined hands slightly before tacking on, “Is this– is this okay for you?” and looking up timidly. 

“This is okay for me,” he confirmed, squeezing her hand. “You’re so cute. You try to act all icy like you’re the abominable snowman, but really you’re just bigfoot.”

“I can’t believe you just called me cute and bigfoot in the same sentence.”

“Well, you’re definitely not a normal creature.”

“But, why I gotta be a cryptid?”

“What would you prefer to be?”

She mulled it over for a few moments. “Nah. You’re right bigfoot works for me. A myth and a legend is what I strive to be.”

“It’s what you already are.”

She smiled to herself as they continued walking. She didn’t know where they were going seeing as they both drove but didn’t speak up. She liked this. Liked how normal everything felt. They were like how they always were except now they held hands and flirted a little. It was nice. 

“Hey,” he said a few minutes later, pulling her from her thoughts, loosening his grip on her hand and opening the door to an ice cream shop. Hmmm. A man with a plan. Nice. “You wanna go to Jimin’s later? He invited me yesterday.”

“Is Jungkook gonna be there?” She asked absentmindedly, filling her cup with various flavours.  

“Why?”

“He’s my little brother, and I love him.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “He’s six months older than you and Korean.”

“First of all, families can look however they want. It’s what’s on the inside the counts. Has Lilo and Stitch taught you nothing? Ohana means family,” she countered, sitting at one of the tables. “Second, age is a social construct.”

“Alright, I can let you slide on your first point, but age is not a social construct.”

“It is, though. Think about it. What is one year? The time it takes the earth to revolve around the sun. The earth was just in a slightly different position than it was when he was born from when I was born. Think about it in terms of light years. 1 light year is about 5.9 trillion miles. The earth travels about 584 million miles around the sun. Cut that in half and you get 292 million miles. Which is like 5 hundredths of 1 light year. Scale that down and you’re literally sitting further than how much older Jungkook is than me.”

He stared blankly at her. “You say so much nonsense on a regular basis that I forget how smart you are. But, also it’s impressive how you’re able to say such nonsense in such an intelligent manner.”

“It’s part of my charm.”. 

He shook his head. “Anyway, Jungkook?”

“He owes me $10. Keeps asking me to buy him snacks or adding his stuff to mine when we go to the convenience store. If he’s there, I plan to attack.” He hummed in response. “What about Yoongi? And before you ask me why, it’s because he’s my soulmate.”

“I hate to break it to you babe, but Yoongi is my soulmate.”

“I beg to differ.”

“I don’t. I’ve known him longer.”

She scoffed. “Okay, and? In most dramas they introduce the second male lead first. You just paved the way for me homie.”

“You and Yoongi are the same person and therefore cannot be soulmates.”

She paused mid bite. “That’s fair. I guess he can be my duplicate and your soulmate. I would say he’s my twin, but he already banned me from calling him that.”

“So, you in?”

“Mmm… I guess.” A thought suddenly occurred to her. “What are we gonna do about–“ she gestured between the two of them, “Like, I mean I know this is like, brand new, fresh from the womb. But–“

“They know,” he breathed out through a laugh, ending her rambling.

“They know?” Her eyebrows shot up. They knew? Was she the only one in their group oblivious to his feelings? 

“Well, they know everything up until what happened today. You mad?” he asked, obviously worried at the possibility of upsetting her.

She wasn’t particularly nosy. Wouldn’t have pried too much even if she suspected something was up. Still she didn’t like being out the loop. But, she guessed she was the most in the loop now, so there wasn’t really anything to be upset about now. Only thing she could hope for is that whatever they were doing worked out. It’d be humiliating otherwise. “Nah. Those are your boys. I get it.” 

He was allowed to talk to them about his life even if it did involve her. Even if they were friends as well. She would eventually tell her girls. She was just a bit emotionally stunted and unnecessarily private so it took longer to open up about her life. She would tell them sometime soon. Or they would find out from one of the guys and be cornered into spilling everything. Whichever came first. That was, if this even amounted to anything.

She hoped it did.

Thirty minutes before she was supposed to get off, she sent a text to Jin letting him know she definitely would not be getting off in thirty minutes. It sucked because she hadn’t seen him in a week, and they were supposed to be going on a date tonight. There was no way, though, that she could leave her department in good conscience. She just added it to the ever growing list of frustrations that had been piling up. 

Today was the third day in a row her coworkers left the entire day’s work for her during the night. How could two people waste eight hours (sixteen total) doing absolutely nothing? She didn’t like to work herself but she did it because that was what she was being paid to do. She did it because she hated for others to be left with an overwhelming amount of tasks. Apparently, she was the only one who shared such a sentiment in her department. 

To add insult to injury she also hadn’t slept very well that night, she didn't get a chance to eat or drink today, and she missed Jin. She took a deep breath, pushing away the burning sensation building behind her eyes and kept moving.

Within five minutes of entering her home, she was in the shower eager to wash the day away. She sighed deeply as the hot water hit her shoulders, cascading down the rest of her body. It allowed her to get rid of the thoughts of work. She didn’t like to bring it home physically or mentally. What happened happened. Knowing her coworkers it would probably happen again. She truly liked them as people but sometimes their work ethic made her want to strangle them. 

Now her main concern was Jin. They’d been dating for a little over a month and a half. Or, well, seeing each other. Things still hadn’t been labelled. They went on dates though. Was that considered dating? She made a mental note to google dating. Either way, she missed him. A lot. More than she thought she would. And, it’s not like they saw each other every single day, but seven consecutive days was a lot. She’s kind of grateful for it though. It made her realize how much she liked him. Up until now, she was still approaching everything surrounding him with a healthy level of skepticism. Feeling him out. Feeling herself out. Trying to see if continuing down this road was really worth it. If it was something she truly wanted not because she liked to be liked but because she liked him. 

And, she did. So much. Before he was just her very chaotic friend. Her go-to for group shenanigans. But when she really paid attention to him, there was just so much to like. She liked how he texted her good morning and good night every day. First, she thought it was corny. Asked him why he was texting her like her grandma only for her heart to end up in a puddle when he told her he had to let her know he was thinking of her when he first woke up and just before he went to sleep. She liked how respectful he was of her boundaries (even when she didn’t necessarily want him to be). “I know I have a bit of a head start, so I’m sorry if that was too much. I don’t want to rush you,” he’d apologized a few weeks ago after kissing her cheek while dropping her home. It caught her a bit off guard, yeah, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Like at all. And yeah she did still like how chaotic he was. Liked how he helped her beat up Jungkook that one night (she didn’t really want any money back. She never minded buying him snacks here and there. Just didn’t want him to know that and get too comfortable. Had to keep the upper hand for the big sister agenda). He was still her best friend and she liked that. 

She planned on telling him as much tonight, which was why this turn of events was so upsetting. Deep down she knew that a few more days wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t a life or death situation. It would be fine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that. But, as it stood none of her basic needs were being met and her day was awful and she just couldn’t bring the little optimism that lived deep, deep, deep down within her to the surface. So, it was with a heavy heart that she got dressed following her shower and began her daily stare down with the contents of her refrigerator.

She has no idea why she didn’t stop and get food before she came home. She knew she ain’t have anything. Can’t imagine why she thought ‘the food at the crib’ (rotting spinach, a tangerine, and cranberry-grape juice) was gonna sustain her. A whine bubbled up in her throat and the burning sensation behind her eyes returned with a vengeance. She was seconds away from unloading the emotional baggage the week packed onto her, when a knock sounded at the door.

Quickly, she swallowed back all her feelings and prayed whoever decided to show up would be quick lest they be subject to her breakdown. Yet, it was precisely the person at the door who launched her breakdown into full speed.

Jin. With takeout.

She was so overcome with emotion at the sight of him that she immediately burst into tears. She made it a point not to cry too often because it was an ordeal for her. Her eyes got all red and puffy and she got a headache then she needed to sleep. An ordeal. Probably because when she cried she tended to cry for her past, present, and future; but that was a story for a therapy session she’d probably never go to. 

He quickly sat the food down on her coffee table and wrapped her in his arms as she gave way to tears. She cried for all the bad things she’d been going through. She cried for the week they spent apart. She cried for the awful day she had. She cried because her next shift would probably be just as bad. Unexpectedly, though, she also cried tears of relief. She was so relieved that Jin was there. She’s missed him so much. She was relieved he brought food because she was starving. She was relieved he cared about her at all. “What are you doing here?” she hiccuped out, attempting to even out her breathing and draw this crying spell to a close.

“I still wanted to hang out tonight,” he explained gently, “Also my spidey senses told me you hadn’t ate yet.”

She choked out a laugh, nuzzling her face further into his chest. Not quite ready to leave the cocoon she’d trapped herself in. She needed a moment to gather herself and her thoughts together because the urge to spill her guts was raging. She knew the second she looked into his eyes she’d be giving her heart to him. Also, she really enjoyed the way his hands rubbed circles on her back. 

They stayed huddled for a couple more minutes before she pulled back, looking up at him. He was so beautiful up close it was unreal. He brought his hands up from her waist, cupping her cheeks, wiping away a few stray tears with his thumb. “Don’t look at me like that. I know I look like a teletubby right now.”

“You actually look like Mrs. Puff.” 

She stuttered out another laugh, smacking his chest noting the wet patch she left. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“It’ll dry.” He dropped his hands back down, this time settling upon her hips. “Are you okay? You wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head. Didn’t feel like rehashing her day. Would rather live in this moment. “Just a very long day and I– I, um–“ she gulped, forcing the words out “–I missed you.” She was on a roll now. Might as well get it all out there. “A lot. And… I really like you Seokjin. I’m sorry it took so long to say it. But, um, yeah I do. And, I want to be with you.”

Her eyes remained firmly fixed on his chest, heat washing over her form. Why did she feel so embarrassed right now? It’s not like he was going to reject her. Still, she refused to meet his gaze. That was until he lifted her chin with his finger. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Her eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. “Don’t be weird about it,” he smiled, cupping her face with one hand and bringing the hand at her hip to her neck, pressing their lips together.

She knew it was coming. He literally announced it before he started kissing her, but it didn’t stop her entire body from tensing up the second as she felt the gentle pressure of his lips against hers. In fact, she felt herself astral projecting, soul hovering just outside of her body to confirm it was inhabiting the right person. Then, all at once she came back to herself and melted into his touch slowly bringing her arms to wrap around his waist. Why hadn’t they been doing this the whole time? When will she be able to do it again?

He gently sucked on her bottom lip for a few seconds before pulling away slightly leaving a series of pecks in his wake. He rested his forehead against hers as they broke apart. Her heart was beating so fast she felt like she was gonna throw up. Or cry. Or both. This probably wasn’t the best position for him. He had a good few inches on her. Still, she didn’t want to pop the bubble they’d created. That was until her stomach loudly rumbled doing exactly that. 

Her mind then became solely preoccupied with obtaining some form of sustenance. “What kind of food did you bring?” she asked, dropping to her knees in front of the coffee table where the abandoned takeout was sitting and rifling through the bags herself. “Chinese. Nice.”

He chuckled in disbelief. “That’s my girl.”

“So… you’re my boyfriend now,” she stated leaning back against the couch once her food tunnel vision widened out. Which was, like, kind of a big deal. She was never one to define relationships even if it was pretty obvious. Didn’t like to take the chance of being rejected. But, he’d put himself out there enough. She could do this one thing and she was like 87.2% sure they were on the same page. 

“It seems so.”

He wrapped an arm around her tugging her closer before pressing a kiss against her cheek. Warmth flooded through her system and her heart began to swell followed by a wave of mortification as she thought about what this really meant. “Bro, this is so embarrassing.”

“Hey!” he whined. The arm used to cuddle her was now being used to keep her in a headlock. 

“F in the chat for our fallen soldier.” She fake sniffled. “What am I supposed to tell Yoongi? We made a pact. We were supposed to die alone together.”

“Suddenly, I’m regretting this entire thing.”

“We have to put up an iron wall in front of the boys. I have a reputation to protect. They can’t know I feel.”

“We’ve been dating for almost 2 months already.” So, it was dating.

“Yeah, but they were being oddly nice about it,” she pouted. They were. They knew her. Knew this was way  out of her comfort zone and didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. And, they definitely didn’t want to do or say anything to mess this up for Jin. But, now that they were official she’s sure pandora’s box was about to be opened. Everything they’d been holding back was going to be unleashed. “It’s all over now. The teasing will be relentless.”

“I’m your boyfriend now. You’re my girlfriend. I’ll protect you,” he declared proudly.

She snorted. “Corny.” She loved it.

[doctenwho]

Hangovers, Love and Space Vodka (PE Pt. 2)

Hello! Requests are definitely open, even if I’m awfully slow! I feel bad at how slow these are coming out especially since there’s so many in waiting, but writing just hasn’t been on the table recently. Apologies for that!

But I’ve found the time and the motivation, so I decided to get this done! Thank you for your patience! This is such a cute idea, and it always makes me happy that people like the first parts enough to request a continuation. I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you readers like it too! 

So, please enjoy the continuation of Purest Expression (also, you should probably read that one if you haven’t already, this fic heavily references it!) Also, I just thought the name was funny and I was in desperate need for one, so feel free to suggest others if you’ve got one!

Warnings: Talk of alcohol, but no drinking!

Word Count: 4,050

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the talented creator!)

You didn’t really remember a lot when you woke up. All you really knew was you'd drank far too much of that delicious cocktail, and that your brain was pounding in your head. This was quite possibly one of the worst hangovers you’d had, but honestly, you’d do it all over again to have another one of those space cocktails.

You rolled onto your back, lifting your hands to cover your eyes in an attempt to block out what little light managed to stream into the room. Your stomach churned at the movement, but it settled out easily enough after you didn’t move a muscle for a few minutes following your roll.  

You relaxed back into the bed when your stomach settled down, and finally uncovered your eyes, staring up at the ceiling with a bleary gaze.  

As you laid there, you tried to piece together the evening. The bits and pieces between arriving and having enough to drink that you could no longer walk a straight line.  

You knew you’d gone out on the town with the Doctor—he'd been excited to show you things. He'd raved enthusiastically about the planet, and you’d listened along as your own excitement grew too. Then, you remember finally stepping out of the TARDIS and being completely astounded by this new planet, with all its colours, music and general liveliness.  

The cute little bar wedged between two buildings; you remember that too. And of course, you remember the cocktail—you'd had two, or three, or... had it been four? You couldn’t really pinpoint it. The Doctor had said it was weaker than earth vodka, and maybe it was, but the after effects were definitely more intense to a human that human vodka was. That said you’d still be down for another drink or two before you left.  

It was well worth the pain of a hangover to taste that drink again. Just the thought of it made your tastebuds tingle.  

You let out a light laugh before rolling back over onto you side, but this time following it up with pulling yourself to a sitting position. The nausea was still there, but hardly noticeable; just a subtle warning to keep your movements slow and steady lest you start gagging.  

Your head was still pounding, but you knew that wasn’t going to go away without pain killers, so you stumbled to your feet to go find the Doctor. He’d have something that could help, and at this point, you didn’t care what planet it came from, so long as it killed the raging headache and... well, didn’t kill you.  

You found the Doctor in the kitchen of all places.  

He was perched at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of him, as well as a book. He startled when you stepped into the room, breathing a light, “oh, (Y/N),” as a greeting.

You continued into the room, wobbling on your feet for just a second, “good morning,” you greeted in return, forcing a smile onto your lips despite the headache, “you don’t happen to have any pain killers do you?”

The Doctor frowned, “are you unwell?”

“Just a bit of a hangover,” you promised with a wave of your hand, “a little worse than an earth alcohol hangover, but it’s manageable. I’ll be fine, my head just really hurts.”

“Right, of course,” the Doctor nodded, pushing himself up and moving towards the cupboards. He rifled around the cabinets, reading labels of things and putting them back before he finally found what he was looking for, “these aren’t of your earth, but they are basically the same thing as your planet’s Advils. I’m sorry I don’t have anything that’ll help from your earth, I should really invest in some if I’m going to keep soliciting companions from earth.”

“Soliciting?” You snorted a laugh, which made you wince lightly, “really?”

“Well, I do tempt you humans away with the offer of the entirety of the universe, now, don’t I?” You smiled at the Doctor’s cheeky grin as he joined you at your side, setting the pill bottle in front of you to do with as you pleased, whether that was to ignore it, or take a couple, before he carried on to the counter. “No different really, I offer the universe in exchange for companionship, and I’m proud to say very few have ever declined. Now, would you like a tea, or coffee?”

“Jokes on the ones who declined, they’re really missing out,” you huffed out as you picked up the pill bottle, surveying over the list of ingredients. None looked too out of the world, but honestly, you’d do anything at this point to ease the thrum of your headache, so you uncapped the bottle, “surprise me.”

The Doctor turned back to flash you a grin from where he’d busied himself at the counter, “will do, my Dear.”

You shook a few pills into your hand from the bottle, eyeing them as if they were about to change colours or something similarly alien-like, but when none of that happened, you frowned, “how many do I take?”

“Well...” the Doctor turned thoughtfully to lean against the counter, “I’d say to start off with one and see if it does anything for you. There will be small differences from planet to planet, and we wouldn’t want you to overdose. After a half an hour you can try taking another pill if one doesn’t help.”

“Sounds good,” you popped a single pill into your mouth before you could hesitate. As if the Doctor was magic, he slid a mug of you go-to morning beverage towards you, and you washed the pill down with a sip of the perfectly prepared drink.  

You savored the taste of your drink, sighing into the warmth. When you’d had a couple sips, you put the cap back on the pill bottle and slid the bottle to the center of the table. You watched the Doctor move around the small kitchen as he made himself another coffee before joining you at the table.  

The two of you settled into a silence, thankfully. You hunched over the table, your elbows on the surface and your cheeks cupped in your palms, as the Doctor continued reading, but he looked like he was lost in his thoughts instead of actually reading.  

“How long have you been up?” you asked slowly, squeezing your eyes shut before blinking them open again to see the Doctor’s gaze on you. “You’re kinda spacing out.”

“I’ve just... some things on my mind,” the Doctor admits with a tiny curl upwards of his lips. It didn’t really answer the question, but at the same time it did. You didn’t think the Doctor had even gone to sleep. “Has the headache eased at all?”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape noticing suddenly that the headache was in fact almost gone. You hadn’t even realized, “yeah,” you informed with a laugh, “almost gone. I didn’t even notice—space things are so much better than earth things; the drugs and alcohol.”

“That would be a very worrying observation if I didn’t know exactly what you were talking about,” the Doctor snorted a laugh. You laughed along too, even if the statement was completely true—it had only been about ten minutes and the space Advil was already working wonders, where as the earth stuff could take anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes to actually kick in.  

“So,” you drawled after another string of comfortable silence between the two of you, “what’s been on you mind then?”

The Doctor eyed you up and down briefly before sighing, running his fingers through his hair and making his already untamed locks stand up at odder angles, “I was just thinking about yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” you parroted under your breath. You’d been thinking about yesterday too. How could you not be? There were still gaps in time where you don’t really remember what happened. “What happened yesterday?”

“You don’t remember?” The Doctor blinked.

“No, I do,” you leaned back in your chair with a sigh, “well, most of it, I think. But some of it... I don’t know? It’s kind of a blur. I guess the cocktails started hitting me towards the end of the evening, I barely remember coming back.”

“You were a bit out of it,” the Doctor admits sheepishly, “glad I cut you off at three drinks then.”

“I could’ve handled more,” you scoffed, smiling widely in a teasing way.  

The Doctor rolled his eyes, leaning forwards, closer to you as his voice dropped, “I do believe three is probably your limit, Love.”

You let out a bout of bright laughter and the Doctor smiled softly. You loved how easy it was to banter with the man—how the two of you were so comfortable with the other that you could tease back and forth like this.  

As if to prove his point, your head gave a warning thrum of pain that drew a shallow breath from you, “yeah,” you shook the pain off, “you’re probably right about three being my space-cocktail limit.”

The Doctor shook his head fondly at you as he settled back in his chair, “so, anything you’d like to know about yesterday? I did promise I’d tell you anything you’d like to know?”

You thought back to what you remembered about yesterday: the walk from the TARDIS to the bar, the ideal seating at the bar, those amazing rainbow cocktails that tasted like dreams. Drinking and chatting and laughing with the Doctor—splitting a plate of chips that were unbelievably delicious... and then... well, the space English the TARDIS didn’t bother translating for you.  

“What was the bartender saying to you?”

The Doctor drew in a breath as his cheeks dusted the faintest pink, “nothing important, I assure.”

“C’mon,” you pouted, cradling your half drank, significantly cooled drink between your hands as you leaned towards the Doctor this time, “you said you promised to tell me about yesterday, right?”

The man chewed at his lip, subdued, but clearly trying to figure out the best course of action, “alright, well, we... I suppose we were acting a tad bit... involved? And... some assumptions were made about us by the barkeep.”

“Involved how?” you raised a questioning eyebrow. “And... what kind of assumptions?”

“Involved involved,” the Doctor cleared his throat, eyeing your level of understanding before rubbing his forehead and adding, “uhm, romantically involved. Those were, well, the main assumptions made as well.”

You gaped for a second before a thought came back to you suddenly, “he kept calling us lovers.”

“Yes,” the Doctor managed a light, fond smile, “I did try to explain it to him: us, our companionship—but, well, he... he didn’t believe me.”

“He didn’t believe you?” You repeated back, surprised.  

“No,” the Doctor laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “he made some pretty solid points in favor of us being romantically involved too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, “and what points might those be?”

“Well, we were sitting fairly close--”

“As friends do,” the excuse came easily. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but continued on like you hadn’t spoken.

“--I was hovering close to you, I suppose... A bit at least--”

“You were worried about me,” you interjected with a fond eyeroll at how wrong the bartender had been. Lovers? Come on, no way. You guys were... you were friends. Obviously. Though the thought of the Doctor hovering over you, making sure you were okay warmed your heart.  

“--we leaned into each other’s sides, uhm, multiple times throughout the evening--”

You struggled for an excuse for that one, you did tend to lean into his space, not that the Doctor ever seemed to mind. And he liked to press into your personal space as well—neither of you really cared about proximity, so you managed a one shouldered shrug, “it was just loud in the bar, hard to hear each other.”

“--and, well, he pointed out I was staring at you occasionally; odd for him to have noticed, when I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

You couldn’t come up with an excuse for that one, eyebrows furrowing in confusion that made your breath catch in the weirdest way. He’d been staring at you? Why did that make you feel so happy?

“And then the fact that you returned the stare when I wasn’t looking. Honestly, that barkeep spent more time watching us than he did working last night, I’m sure.” The Doctor let out a playful scoff, genuinely amused that the bartender had put more time into them than his job.  

You however, were suddenly caught up in the information.  

He’d been staring at you when you weren’t looking—fondly, you were sure, if it had caught the bartender’s attention and led him to believe the two of you were in a relationship. Then there was the fact that you were staring at him in return? You’d been caught by someone staring at the Doctor? You knew you did it sometimes, how could you not? He was a good-looking, kind, compassionate man who liked your company. Just being with him made your heart speed up.

“That doesn’t mean we’re a couple,” you forced yourself to say, even if... well, you were questioning it just slightly. You knew, of course, that the two of you weren’t a couple but... “That bartender was just bored and looking too far into us, I’m sure he was doing it to everyone...”

“Of course not, surely we’d know if we were, right?” the Doctor agreed with a light grin. The grin only lingered for a second before it faltered and he chewed at his bottom lip. You were about to question it, but he spoke again before you could, “but, well, I suppose there is the song he had to go off of as well.”

“The song?” You questioned before it all flooded back—well, most of it, at least, “we were on a stage. We... we sang together. Was that a karaoke bar or something?”

“We were,” the Doctor ducked his head in a nod, “we... did. And it, well, it was kind of like your earth karaoke bar. Do you remember anything about it?”

You tried to remember, you know the Doctor explained it last night after he’d gotten the information from the barkeeper, but you still don’t really know. And you’re sure there were bits and pieces that he didn’t tell you last night as well. So, you shook your head.

“Right,” the man nodded, settling his elbows on the tabletop as he held his chin up, “well, the concept of the song ritual we were roped into performing is that you sing whatever song best corresponds to what you think about your peer. I’m not exactly sure how it works to be honest, the expression through song is just strong.”

“So, whatever I felt about you would be... conveyed through a song?”

“Yes.” The Doctor gives a light nod.

“And whatever you felt about me would... would also be?”

“Indeed,” his head tilts as he surveys you, trying to piece together where you were going with this string of questions.  

“But... we sang a duet, didn’t we?” You furrowed your eyebrows, running a finger along the rim of your mug. You faintly remembered chiming in with the Doctor’s song, instantly knowing the new lines to his song despite not knowing his lines, or the actual song. “Does that happen? What... what does it mean?”

“Well,” the Doctor cleared his throat, looking nervous. “It does happen, it’s just, well, it’s rare? I suppose. The barkeeper, just before we left, told me that the last time he saw a duet happen during the expression through song ceremony was when he was a child.”

“Wow, okay,” you bit the inside of your cheek. You had a feeling you knew what it meant, and the thought made your cheeks heat up, but you asked anyways, “what does a duet mean?”

“Well, generally speaking...” the Doctor shot you a small, crooked smile, “it means that we feel exactly the same way about each other. Exactly the same to the point that our expression would be through the same song, at the same time.”

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but repeat, “that’s... wow. So it really is unusual then? Why did it happen to us? Was it a fluke?”

“No, don’t think so,” the Doctor shakes his head, a blush rising to his cheeks as his fingers tap against the table, “something like that would be hard to fake, so I doubt it was a fluke. We chose the song—deep in our subconscious when thinking of the other... I mean... I didn’t know the lyrics beforehand, did you?”

“No,” you breathed out, fingers fiddling with your empty mug, “I don’t even think I remember the lyrics now. They were just... in my head when they needed to be. I didn’t even know your lines of the song. It’s weird that we were the people that got the duet—random visitors.”

“It was the same for me,” the Doctor sends you a small smile, “I think few people view their... companion the same way their companion views them. It seems highly unlikely that any two people can feel the exact same way...”

You’re not sure why, but there’s something different about the way the Doctor says companion this time around. Maybe he holds a different fondness than you’re used to, or perhaps some other reason, but there’s an unfamiliar warmth in the word.  

“But we did,” you whisper, looking up momentarily and catching the Doctor’s eyes before dropping your gaze back to your cup.

“But we did,” the Doctor repeats, just slightly louder than you. Like he too can’t wrap his brain around it. There’s a pause before the Doctor’s clearing his throat, forcing a crooked smile onto his lips. “Well, I promised you we head to the shops for some alcohol and other treats, didn’t I?”

The Doctor stands, moving swiftly towards the door without looking back.

“I meant it, you know?” You speak before you even realize you’re speaking. You don’t see the Doctor stop, since you’re facing the other direction, but you hear his steps come to a halt, feet planting in spot.  

He doesn’t say anything for a second, which prompts you on, “I do need you.”

He still doesn’t say anything, or move, so you stand and gather both your mug and his own, walking in the opposite direction from him towards the sink. You set the mugs in but don’t touch the faucet, instead mumbling a soft, “I want you.”

You’re not even sure if he’d still there anymore, or if he’d taken you moving as his cue to escape. You don’t turn to look, afraid to not find him there, so instead you whisper what little of your lyrics from yesterday that you remember, “come on back to me.”

Another moment of silence drags in before you hear the Doctor moving. His steps are quick, and you think he’s leaving out the door when suddenly hands are on your waist and he’s swiftly turning you around and gently pushing you against the edge of the counter beside the sink.  

You manage to muffle your surprise as his lips press against yours, soft but urgently all the same.  

You melt into his lips, eyes slipping shut as his hands leave your waist, one wrapping around your middle, as the other rises to cup at your jaw. It spurs you on too, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him just slightest bit close, to which he blindly follows your lead.  

You don’t pull away until the need to breath outweighs how good it feels to be kissing him.

You both gasp for breath, but neither of you pull away, lips still touching the faintest bit, “I didn’t think you even remembered the lyrics... how... intimate the duet was...” It’s the first thing the Doctor’s said since trying to flee the room.

You slowly open your eyes, catching his eyes waiting to make contact and a smile pulls at your lips. You pull away a bit, pushing your forehead against his, “I didn’t really remember the lyrics until just now, but I never forgot the feeling of singing them to you, and hearing you singing them back to me.”

The arm around your waist tightens around you, “I didn’t know you felt the same way,” the Doctor whispers. “I didn’t want to... make you uncomfortable, or chase you away. And then you woke up this morning, and didn’t remember anything with the hangover, so I... was going to let it go.”

You’re sure you make a noise of protest, maybe even disappointment, but you only assume because the Doctor lets out a chuckle before stealing another kiss that you’re more than happy to give.  

When he goes to pull back, you snake your hand up to hold him in place, mumbling softly against his lips the last of your lyrics, a message he’d sure to understand, “I love you sundown.”

The Doctor freezes against you pulling back just enough to look into your eyes before a smile creeps onto his face. You smile at his smile, watching him fondly as his head tilts in that adorable way, affection bright in his eyes, “and I, you, my Love.”

You melt at the words leaning into him and pressing your head against his chest, fitted perfectly under his chin like a puzzle piece. Your arms wrap around him, and his move to hold you against himself just as you had done to him seconds earlier.  

You stay like that for a while—you're not sure how long. You feel protected tucked against the Doctor, and it’s a feeling you’re never going to forget.  

“How’s your head?” he asks softly above you, the voice after so long of nothing by his steady heart beats startles you. The Doctor presses an apologetic kiss to the top of your head.

“Better,” you decide, nuzzling closer to him, “why?”

“Well, I did promise we’d check out the shops, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I almost forgot about that,” you laugh, finally pulling away. The Doctor unwraps his hand begrudgingly, frowning as he does so. You let out a laugh, slipping your hand into his. “I wanna see the shops before we leave this evening. We’ve gotta get some of that vodka.”

“I see more hangovers in your near future,” the Doctor snorts as he leads you along by the hand.  

“Oh, and, we should definitely pick up a gift for the bartender from last night,” you add, ignoring the Doctor’s teasing jab at your weak human alcohol tolerance.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, without his instance that we sing, and his instance that we were a couple, none of this,” you gesture down to your interlocked hands as the two of you step out of the TARDIS and onto the busy, colourful streets, “would’ve happened.”

The Doctor’s quiet for a second as the two of you fall into step. “There’s nothing in the universe that can ever thank him enough for what he’s done,” the man softly admits, giving your hand an adoring squeeze that drives his words home.  

Your cheeks heat up as you tuck yourself in his side. He moves easily to accommodate you, releasing your hand to wrap his arm over your shoulders instead. You move your hand to squeeze around his waist, grinning as you respond cheekily, “I don’t know, Doctor, the space vodka is pretty good...”  

The man sputters at your response, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow, “I was being all cute and you’re comparing the gift of our newfound relationship to vodka?” the man questions, genuinely dumbfounded.  

You give a one shouldered shrug at his side, giggling at his reaction. It wasn’t long until the man was letting out a fond sigh, thumb stroking against your collarbone, “what am I going to do with you?”  

The tease in his words has you smiling. There really is nothing in the universe that seems equivalent to the gift the bartender bestowed to you, but... yeah, a bottle of space vodka was a nice start.  

<><><><>

Hello again! Hopefully you liked this continuation. Not sure if it kept to the prompt exactly, I got a bit carried away writing it, but nonetheless, I hope it was good! Feel free to prompt again if it wasn’t what you were looking for, as always!

I’ll try to keep up with the prompts but idk how well I’ll be able to manage between life and the other works in other fandoms. Anyways, hope you have a great morning/day/night!

[skywarriorupham]

Part 2

NOTE: My phone said 'screw you' and this entire thing onwards that I'd been working  on for an hour was deleted, so I'm kinda rushing this since it's 12AM where I am.

Why is that?

You know the answer to that question.

You might not want to absorb the truth behind this stark reality, but the war in Ukraine is an intelligence war, a creation of the U.S. State Department, CIA, and allied intelligence networks.

I mean some of the war is in fact an information war but...this is pretty far fetched.

All of the information coming from the Ukraine War doesn’t come complete with accompanying war correspondents to give context to the statements made by the military officials on the ground in Ukraine, because there isn’t any way to connect to something that just doesn’t exist

Feel free to look at War Leaks, Funker530, and CivDiv on Youtube for footage that can be understood by civilians.

...As the night life and dance festivals in Kiev continue...'

I don't have much to say except for this.

Kiev is in the west. The war is at a stalemate for the East, I am not surprised things are much calmer in Kiev then on the frontlines.

'The Ukraine War is an intelligence operation, and with it comes the need for high control over the propaganda to support it. It would be troublesome for those carrying out the Ukraine operation if people were brought into the “fight” by media. Worse still, it would be very challenging to retain support for an intelligence operation, if the American and global population realized it is propaganda.'

You probably wouldn't think it's propaganda if your house got obliterated by a rocket and you had to move to a different country and learn a whole new language at the age of 12.I am a westerner. I do not understand war like many people do. And the person I'm reblogging from probably doesn't either.

Heres a quote from a Tumblr on the Bosnian War:

Let me tell you what it means to truly, unequivocally hate war: My uncle once swam the length of a river with shrapnel tearing into his skin to desert his post. He didn’t make it the first time—I guess shrapnel weighs you down, who would’ve guessed—so he tried. And he tried. And he tried. And he tried until he reached the other side, until he entered Croatia and no longer had to feel the weight of a gun in his palm. That is what it means to hate war; Americans will never truly, unequivocally hate war, because they are the ones starting them. They start and end wars and cry about them an ocean away. None of it means anything.Let me tell you what it means to truly, unequivocally hate war: My mother doesn’t watch the news when they talk about Syria; too much like the war, she says. The hungry children, the crying mothers, the bombs and destroyed buildings. It could very well be Bosnia. You Americans are so silly, praising soldiers and the forced occupation of land by the military. Your soldiers get discounts for killing people; my father doesn’t tell a single soul he was in the army unless they served with him. Americans never hear about it, because they don’t understand. They start wars over here; they don’t flee them. My father doesn’t speak of his time in the army unless it’s past midnight and he’s down three shots of rakija. I have never once heard him talk about what they did him. My father, a prisoner of war. A honest-to-God, living, breathing, prisoner of war. You Americans know nothing about hating war. You never will. My father held a gun in his hands for the first time at the age of 16 and hated it; your father welcomes the feeling of a gun in his hand and boasts about his time in the military.Let me tell you what it means to truly, unequivocally hate war: I will never know my grandma. I will never know my aunt. I will never get to see my mother’s chilhood home; all we have left is a line of graves, marked with smooth white headstones, the crescent moon and star carved into every single one of them. That’s where my home used to be, my mother tells me. And that’s where they stacked the dead bodies. Yes, you Americans know nothing about war. You praise the very people who carry out acts of war and turn your backs on refugees, on the displaced and the lost. You will never understand.I hate war, says the lady next to me. No, I don’t think you do, I say.The last time war engulfed Europe was in the Balkans during the 1990s. The city of Sarajevo was under siege for 46 months -- the longest siege in modern history. Serbian strongman Slobodan Milosevic sought to punish Bosnia for choosing a democratic, pro-European future -- a clear parallel to Ukraine's plight vis-a-vis a Russian dictator today. Bosnian journalist Aida Cerkez joins the program to share her thoughts and read a letter she wrote to the people of Ukraine.USamerican kids on twitter who have 0 contact with war will laugh and make jokes about Ukraine to ~cope~, meanwhile my grandmother who remembers the second world war when the Germans marched into Athens and destroyed smaller towns, started crying when she heard about the tragedy in Mariupol.THAT'S the difference between kids who think they're "traumatized" bc they read about war on twitter, and people who have actually been scarred by wars in their country, in their lifetime. The people in countries that could STILL be threatened by war.every time new atrocities are uncovered in ukraine, it usually only takes 1 paragraph of a news story/editorial/opinion piece for europeans to show they don't ever remember the balkans exist." -Tumblr user

Alright..... I borrowed something here. I'm pasting the whole thing because I want you to read it, and not have to waste time clicking a link, and I want you to THINK about it... PONDER, even. I think this is 100% spot on, and I also think it raises just as many questions as it answers, and I don't think enough people are talking about this...

Notice Something About This Israeli War and The Gaza Conflict? October 9, 2023  The coverage of the attacks by Hamas against the Israeli people is extensive, but have you paused to notice a very peculiar dynamic? As familiar to most news consumers, various media war correspondents are embedded throughout the Israel and Gaza region.  Flak jackets and helmets are worn by CNN, BBC, Fox News and all the international agencies who are covering the Israeli War.  All of that footage is common and familiar. Television streams are lit up with the continuing coverage and the audience is brought in live to the fight, despite the dangers and the military combat that is taking place throughout the area.  Brave war correspondents are doing what they do, showing the public exactly what is happening on the ground as the fighting continues. Yet, the extensive footage triggers a reminder of something…. The war in Ukraine has been raging for 20 months, and not once, not even one single time, did we see simultaneous international war correspondents delivering their reporting, showing action on the front lines, donning their protective gear and taking the audience toward the battles in a similar fashion. The contrast between the War in Israel and the “War” in Ukraine could not be starker when viewed through the prism of what a real combat war looks like. Why is that? You know the answer to that question. You might not want to absorb the truth behind this stark reality, but the war in Ukraine is an intelligence war, a creation of the U.S. State Department, CIA, and allied intelligence networks. All of the information coming from the Ukraine War doesn’t come complete with accompanying war correspondents to give context to the statements made by the military officials on the ground in Ukraine, because there isn’t any way to connect to something that just doesn’t exist. The “War” in Ukraine is World War Reddit.  A war carried out and advanced by the intelligence system that created it.  As the night life and dance festivals in Kiev continue, it would be challenging for the international war correspondents, the actual media, to deliver broadcast ground reports from Ukraine without using green screens and fabricated livestreams. That’s why we have never seen them. The Ukraine War is an intelligence operation, and with it comes the need for high control over the propaganda to support it.  It would be troublesome for those carrying out the Ukraine operation if people were brought into the “fight” by media.   Worse still, it would be very challenging to retain support for an intelligence operation, if the American and global population realized it is propaganda. We’ve seen more footage of the war inside Israel in 48 hours than we have seen inside Ukraine in two years. Carry on….

H/T Sundance @ Conservative Treehouse.