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transitranger327 · 2 months ago

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Sundari Twilight, Chapter 2: The Eminent Ones

Day 7: What If?

Barriss’s quest to help the Galaxy outside the war lead her to discover Duchess Satine Kryze’s desperate transmission. Ahsoka decides to use her history with Mandalore to help out. They journey there with an Obi-Wan who is not in his usual state of mind.

Notes: This chapter specifically was written for @sapphicahsokatanoweek 2024, but the whole fic really does fit “What if…Ahsoka and Barriss went with Obi-Wan to Mandalore?” If anyone wants to make fanart of the outfits I describe, please tag me when you post it! This is sort of a mirror version of “Kenobi’s Shadow” by Greg van Eekhout (Obi-Wan’s pov during “The Lawless”) More notes can be found at the end, below the cut

—

“Brother, how can you be sure?” Savage had never found the same deep connection to the Force that his brother had. “The galaxy is filled with quadrillions of beings making choices that affect the future.”

“No, no, no, there are very few beings alive that can affect my old master’s grand design.” He had never felt a disturbance like this before. The visions Maul had were now playing out differently than before. “We must be cautious, my apprentice. Our plans with Death Watch and the Crime Families are under a new threat.”

—

Two girls were basking in each other’s warmth. One, newly knighted and unsure of her future in the Jedi Order. She was curled up on a bed, resting her head on the chest of the other, a padawan who hasn’t felt unsure of anything since she was resurrected by an avatar of the Force. But they were united in a shared love for doing good in a galaxy that detested it.

The padawan inhaled the sweet scent of her partner’s hair, a mix of fragrant oils and sweat, with the faintest hint of salt from their previous activities. “Did I ever tell you that your hair is beautiful?”

“Only three times every day, Ahsoka.” The knight had thoroughly enjoyed her time with her beloved, and was somewhat saddened knowing the war would conspire to separate them again. “But it makes up for the days I never get to hear it.” She got many compliments from others about her choices in hoods and scarves, but very few people got to see what was underneath.

A computer’s chime pierced the tranquility of their room. Barriss’s slicing program had discovered a new request for aid that could go unnoticed. She kissed Ahsoka’s breast before sliding off of her and into a chair in front of her computer. Ahsoka turned on her side and watched her lover fiddle with the device. “What did you find?”

“A transmission sent the Jedi council, personally. From…Mandalore?” “That’s a bit strange,” Barriss thought, “Why is Mandalore contacting us directly? Surely they could reach out thru the Senate.”

“Put it thru.” It hadn’t been all that long since Ahsoka had last interacted with Mandalorians, so she was curious what was going on.

A blue hologram of the Duchess of Mandalore, on one knee, erupted from the computer’s small holo-projector. “This message is for Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’ve lost Mandalore. My people have been massacred, and Almec is the Prime Minister. There’s no time to explain everything now, but Almec has the support of the crime families”—she looked over her shoulder before continuing—“Obi-Wan, I need your help.” A Death Watch commando with a horned helmet approached her from behind as the transmission ended.

Ahsoka’s resolve steeled. “We’re doing this, we’re going to help Obi-Wan.”

“What do you mean?” Barriss wasn’t quite sure how to follow her partner’s logic.

“I thought it was obvious. The situation on Mandalore is obviously bad. Almec used to be the prime minister before he was the center of a corruption scandal and stripped of his power—a scandal some of my students there exposed.” A small smile crept onto her face, remembering Korkie, Lagos, Soniee, and Amis. “If crime families have aligned with Death Watch to put him back in power, something went very wrong.”

“But why won’t the Republic assist them? Weren’t Death Watch working with the Separatists?”

“Death Watch and Dooku are no longer friendly. The Senate isn’t even helping Republic worlds, let alone a neutral system like Mandalore.” Then Ahsoka began laying out her plan. “The Council is going to show this to Obi-Wan, but they’re not going to be able to help him without Senate authorization. But Obi-Wan’s still going to help, because Satine is personal to him.” She let the unspoken “Like we are to each other” hang in the air. “I’m guessing he’s gonna borrow the Twilight to try and sneak onto Mandalore.”

“I take it that’s where we come in to help?” Barriss was grinning, she was starting to see the pieces fall into place.

“Exactly. We ride along with him to Mandalore. This is a covert mission, but I have contacts there that he doesn’t. We can’t be wearing anything Jedi-related, or anything that looks like what we normally wear.”

“Should we still bring our lightsabers?”

Ahsoka thought for a few beats. “On one hand, they are Jedi items. If we’re caught with them, whatever crime families are running the place will know what’s happening. But, if Death Watch are involved, their leader has a Darksaber, and it would be a bad idea to encounter him without one.”

“Perhaps we carry them inside our disguises. We don’t show them off, but we can still access them if we have to.”

“I love that idea.” She draped her arms over Barriss’s shoulders. “Plan for the best…”

“…Prepare for the worst.” It was a little catchphrase they had developed, their two signature styles. The knight had always favored making plans, while the padawan was ready to change things when circumstances worsened.

The knight leaned in for a kiss from her lover, who always obliged.

—

Obi-Wan Kenobi hated flying. He even considered taking Anakin up on his offer, to come along and fly the Twilight for him. But he couldn’t bring anyone else. Two Jedi would attract too much attention. This was personal. This was something he had to do alone. ”For Satine,” he thought.

As he entered what could generously be described as a bridge, he almost missed R7-A7. Barely registering it, only as a friendly droid. “R7, set the stealthiest course you can out of here.” A few cheerful beeps later, a flight plan popped up on his screen. A low flight to the pass under the flight restrictions, the public airways to blend in on active scans, and a “malfunctioning” transponder to avoid passive detection. None of the Republic Military patrols (which he outranked, ironically) were going to stop him. The sublight engines quietly roared to life, and soon enough he was en route.

After an uneventful hyperspace jump, a distant feeling of dread crept over him. Like the mission was going to fall apart. Quiet doubts began murmuring if he was even doing the right thing. He was experienced enough with his own emotions to not be consumed be them, but the edge he felt while packing was now blunt.

A familiar voice snapped Obi-Wan out of his malaise. “Wow, you really must be preoccupied with Satine.” A Togrutan the same size and build as his student’s student, wearing greasy blue coveralls, had taken the co-pilot’s seat next to him. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that, yes, that really is Ahsoka. “R7, did he make any comment about you being here?” A few negative beeps followed, with a bit of what sounded like laughter.

“On the solo mission,” he thought, “that’s why her droid was here.” He slowly put his face into his palm, “Ahsoka, I just told Anakin he couldn’t come with me. And now you show up?”

“Barriss owes me ten credits,” she smirked, “I bet her you wouldn’t notice anything was up until after we left. I knew you would be too focused on your mission.” As she was talking, Barriss Offee—in a white headscarf and a dark purple cloak—approached the co-pilot’s chair and handed her a credit chip.

“You just keep inviting yourself on missions, don’t you.” Obi-Wan recalled the stunt she pulled at the citadel.

“Master, you’re the one who invited yourself on this mission without any official approval,” Ahsoka retorted.

Barriss continued in a Consular voice, “We’re just here to support you in whatever way we can.”

“You wouldn’t understand, this is…deeply personal”

“Wouldn’t we?” Ahsoka’s smirk had softened to genuine care. Obi-Wan looked at the two women in front of him. They had the same look of concern as when Anakin offered to help, trying to understand his personal agenda with his own.

“It’s not just who I would be help, it’s who I’d be fighting. Death Watch…”

“Has affected more than just you!” Righteous anger flashed behind Ahsoka’s eyes; Obi-Wan almost missed it. “You are not the only one of us to be hurt by them. You are not alone, Master!”

With this plea, Obi-Wan relented. “I’m sorry, Ahsoka. I didn’t realize this was personal for you too. I just know they bring out the worst in me and I didn’t want anyone else to be hurt.”

Ahsoka took his hands, which had started trembling with anxiety. “You’re never alone, Obi-Wan.” It was the first time she had used his real name in a long time.

“There are so many people who care for you,” added Barriss, smiling. “Let them help you when you need it.”

After a tender silence, Ahsoka asked, “So Master, what was your plan?”

“I was planning on breaking into whatever prison they’re holding her in, then escaping with her.”

“A simple extraction mission? That could work.”

In contrast to Barriss, Ahsoka had a lot more questions. “How are you planning on landing there? The docks are the only way in or out, and they would be under tight security now.”

“Well, I did bring a Disguise.” Obi-Wan opened his bag and pulled out the helmet of Rako Hardeen. Ahsoka flinched as she remembered when he faked his death.

“And if they ask for a landing permit?”

A smile—“I’ll try the old ‘I left it on the ship’ trick.”

The two younger Jedi started giggling. “Anakin would call that a good trick,” Ahsoka laughed, “but I’m surprised you would call it a plan.”

“I suppose he does have an influence on me. What would you suggest?”

“You know I taught at the Royal Academy,” Ahsoka started revealing her plan. “I still have contacts, and Barriss and I can convincingly fake the landing paperwork.”

“And your disguises?”

“You’re looking at them.” Barriss was now sitting at a computer console. “It’s pretty easy to not be recognized when you’re famous for one outfit.”

—

After a landing that was rougher than expected (Ahsoka had rewire a power junction in-flight), the three Jedi descended the Twilight’s landing ramp. Obi-Wan and Barriss led the way, as Ahsoka wanted to reduce her chances of being recognized from her last encounter. A Death Watch trooper approached them. “State your business.”

“We’re here to purchase merchandise for export.” Barriss handed over a datapad with forged permit, “Electronics, mostly.”

“Our vendor wishes to remain anonymous,” added Kenobi’s filtered and modified voice.

After a brief look-over, the Mandalorian gave his approval. “Well, it looks like you’re authorized. Please, enjoy our city.”

When the three managed to exit earshot and enter the tunnel, Ahsoka commenced attempts to contact any possible allies. Written messages, voice messages, browsing local holo boards. Within a few minutes, she began receiving a transmission.

“Ahsoka, am I glad to hear from you.”

Despite the anonymous transmission, she recognized the voice. “Soniee, is it? We heard the Duchess’s call and are here to help.”

“Good. We can’t keep this line open, just meet us at these coordinates.” A location popped up on Ahsoka’s comlink before the transmission ended.

She turned to her companions, “Shall we?”

—

When the three disguised Jedi reached the agreed-upon destination, a Mandalorian in familiar armor was waiting for them. She was a mystery to two of them, but for Ahsoka, it had only been a few months.

Simultaneously, they asked, “What are you doing here?”

—

Notes: “Merchandise for export” is definitely a euphemism for black-market goods. I actually don’t remember how often Ahsoka says “Obi-Wan” in TCW, but I’m reasonably certain she never says it to his face.

#sapphicahsokatanoweek #ahsoka tano #barriss offee #barrissoka #darth maul #savage opress #obi wan kenobi #star wars fanfiction #sapphic star wars #ao3 #the clone wars

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marictheirins · 1 year ago

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BALDUR'S GATE 3 OC LINEUP; this is a glorified tag dump post for my idiots thus far. may get updated in the future with other ocs & if so it will be reblogged to showcase those changes. under the cut will be basic character introductions & they will be in order.

Rylla: wizard spell sword, high elf, genderless( all pronouns ) bisexual, neutralish, 27yo everyone laugh at the youngest member of the party haha

Rylls is my main "Tav" which is the player character. full name: Idrylla Rhea Dhwani Crisanta. they are unmotivated, burntout, tired, & p much going thru the motions. she's the eldest out of like 7 and the first in like a generation or two of elves in her family to be magically inclined so his parents rlly pushed for parentification as a help w/ the kids since her family are fishing merchants, but got sent to study at a wizarding guild schoolesc thing in Baldur's Gate where the fam is from all around. pushed to be the top of their class and the like first apprentice to the head wizard he got framed for attempted murder by a jealous rival and got tossed in jail with a two day pardon to run home and grab a journal that would prove her innocence only to find out her fiance, now ex fiance, had been cheating on them and threw out all their stuff hearing rylla was in jail and was like OH LOL WHOOPS on the way to the dump is when this jackass got abducted by mind flayers like u cant have a more worse day than rylla bc the next day was allso when he had to pay his mortgage taxes so like all that and u still gotta pay bills anyways everyone in camp wants them carnally but rylla does not romance anyone, however he does have a connection with gale that is strictly platonic. rylla is a prodigy & a spell sword

Frye: warrior, mesophlieseses tiefling, he/him cismale home of sexual, somewhat lawful good. or at least he tries, 87yo

Frye Ravensworn is from Baldur's Gate, a oathbroken paladin former flaming fist. after an accident that cost the lives of several innocents he lost faith in the order & left, turning to a life of mercenary work. after feeling as if he wasn't making any difference he "retired" to establish a popular tavern known as The Devil's Fyre( pronounced fire unlike his name Fry-ee bc hehe get it he thinks hes hilarious ) anyways he's Rylla's best friend they have been pals for ages and she usually comes to him when they need to bitch about their life. he does enjoy being a bartender and listening to others rather than being constantly asked about stories of his own adventures. it's rylla that makes him feel as he did when he was younger, having a purpose reigniting that love for life & hope in people once more so when Rylla was taken by mind flayers he picked his sword back up and closed the tavern to set out to find rylla's stupid ass knowing the next time he sees them they could be a mind flayer but at least rylla would die by a friends hand. it's in act 2 we find Frye, at the last light inn helping the harpers & flaming fist protect the tieflings from the shadows. upon seeing rylla he scoops her up & squeezes him so tight one could swear their bones popped. Frye serves as a paladin option to recruit like how mi/thara is, but for like the ~good~ route basically. Frye romances W/yll !

Carnation: druid with a class i made up called underdark druid its got bits of spore shadow sprinkled in but she can grow n manipulate crystals ! bc they are the fauna of the underdark :), auvryrahel drow, she/her cisfemale, violencesexual, evil. fucking evil. dark urge( editors note: this will change no more bhaalspawn but born of a different more fucked up god mayhaps :) ) !, 134yo

a hot pink bitch named breakfast. our favorite cult leader. last name Vasiira. raised in the underdark with a small clan of underdark-druids deep under the earth while i forgot to add her mom to this screencap dump, Momma'Nation, Trielthrae was one of the many exiled loth-drow that formed this little village of which the clan of druids lived, wanting to change the stars of her peers & sick of loth's rule--- she beseeches the gods to grant her a child that would be blessed in their light, to become a holy savior & change the world for her, her village, for the drow, & for everyone. bhaal [ GOD goes here ] read that text & answered, requiring a unholy communion of which Trielthrae gladly gave leaving her with a miraculous pregnancy. enter our little anti-christ, our cute little princess. our beautiful Carnation who was beloved & welcomed by the village with open arms. she wants power, she wants fame, she wants clothes, she wants devotion. the village quickly & completely submitted to her whims wants & needs. bhaal lends her some of his grand power, as technically she is a bhaal spawn. its just complicated. SHES A DEMI-GOD BY BIRTHRIGHT I JUST GOTTA LATER GO FIGURE OUT WHAT GOD ANSWERED HER MOM man loth is pissed about this btw lol mind flayers took her from the shores of the dark lake, this is the first time she has been outside of the underdark & once she saw the night sky at camp she wept in it's beauty. she romances as/tarion, ascendant. he sees her as a equal as she denies bhaal, stealing his power for herself & manipulates the nether brain for her own gain becoming akin to a god. keeping old shit as reference but ew lame heres the new stuff: SHE IS MANIPULATING HIM. as a demi-god shes already capable of doing fucked up shit as is however she plans to kill &/or eat a god to gain its power to become fully divine & having a powerful vampire as a minion in addition to her cult is good, she also manipulates gale to bring her that funny crown & study how to harness it with the guide she supports his journey when its for her benefit not his. she will not end her conquest until she becomes a god wholly. auvryrahel is the name of the specific village / noble house that makes up carnation's cult.

Luella: cleric, but its complicated :), auvryrahel half-drow, she/her bisexual cisfemale, her morality is whatever carnation wants, ageless

undead half-drow handmaiden to Carnation Vasiira. she acts as a nanny, a nurse, a sister, a caregiver, a friend, a confidant, & a puppet. raised from death by Carnation's mother when her daughter was only but six years old via a powerful spell that grants this undead what's left of her fractured soul & a lifespan that allows her to live as long as Carnation wills her to, Luella is devoted completely to her charge. she lives, literally, only to serve her mistress--- having left the underdark in search of her beloved flower when Carnation goes missing after a rare nautiloid sighting near the dark lakes.

G'waine: kith'rak ranger, githyanki, she/they nonbinary lesbian, chaotic good but the good is like for the good of the githyanki not you. fuck you as far as she's concerned, 38yo

UTENA COMPLEX, PRINCE OF THE CRECHE. kith'rak g'waine, a captain of her creche boldly named draa'zvir--- dragon's breath. a warrior of fine make & groom, the pride n joy of her creche the youngest to make captain in it's long history. a skilled warrior, a even better strategist she is calm collected but never cold. a proper leader in the making to eventually take over creche draa'zvir or would have if not captured by mind flayers during the chase of the nautaloid alongside lae'zel, attempting to strike down mind flayers at they attacked other gith. because of this word returned of her capture to her creche & they moved to mourn her as if she were already dead. the fallen dragon prince & the tale of noble, but foolish, sacrifice to save her gith comrades and kill the ghaik invaders. has a bit of a resemblance to a frog & was teased as a child as 'the frog prince' until her merits outshined all her sought to demean her. also she killed them as is her right. romances lae'zel & has a hellva complicated time about the whole orpheus thing. voss knows g'waine, actually a lot of the creche u visit knows them too.

THEODORA theythem red wizard of thay more info to come

#farllee.ref: rylla #farllee.ref: frye #farllee.ref: carnation #farllee.ref: luella #farllee.ref: g'waine #farllee.ref: theodora #farllee.jpeg #farllee.ref: oc post

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drawnaghht · 1 year ago

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more thoughts on ship names (leosagi, sliderbunny, yuileo etc) - more is not bad

So I'd like to suggest a thought - multiple ship tags and names are not actually bad - it's more like a way of detecting what flavor the ship and resulting fanworks will be. let me explain more below. if this sounds a bit dated, that's because I wrote this back in january-march but noticed I hadn't archived it properly and that it needed a bit more writing to finish some thoughts so I'm posting this now, lest I forget it lol. maybe i have also already posted it before but... i cannot find this old version, so i guess not ^^;;

If you like the Yuichi x Leo ship, are annoyed at Leosagi being used as an umbrella term or are just curious abt another fan's thoughts on ship names, here-a we go. Some thoughts on the leosagi and leochi/leoichi ship names in general ^^

Some things are a bit more outdated: namely, transfem!12yuinardo has now been steadfastly used as a ship tag for transfem Yuichi x 12Leo, so kudos to that person! Thank you for making this unique tag more common!

resources used:

https://fanlore.org/wiki/Pairing_Name https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/IdiosyncraticShipNaming

Anyway, more under cut.

so, being in the rottmnt fandom for a bit longer this time (or being longer in a tmnt phase this time) and browsing the leosagi and leochi tags since august last year... has made me realize again that I really enjoy/prefer genfic most times? i like writing romance, but I enjoy writing action a lot more + exploring character writing in general, so that’s probably what my own crossover works will try to feature more too now.

being in tmnt fandom longer this time around, I thought that it was nice ppl still remembered leosagi, but I didn't expect a "new" version of it. Now, seeing thru the history of it (the RabNerd video on Leosagi felt like a nice refresher on TMNT fandom history in general and it’s nice to listen to) and going thru the tumblr tag (that and ao3 being sorta the only reliable archives on fanwork, with the exception of authors deleting their own work and tumblrtags not working as expected at times/finding hidden stuff), I think it's good we have multiple tags. Now about the tag I made up in september, "yuinardo" (I believe I already made two tagging-related posts thinking abt this tag/name way back in autumn 2022)

this YuiNardo ship name was mostly made as a portmanteau to make tagging and finding easier - for the ship Yuichi x Rise!Leo bc I wanted to differentiate it from Leochi/Leoichi but also the old Leosagi ship, because to me that was a bit different. at first I thought people would use the numbering system (03 leosagi etc per tmnt series airing year), but I started to notice that there was a lot more fanon with the ship this time than before. So when Netflix suggested the show to me one august evening after seeing the Rise movie, I started watching the series proper out of curiosity. as I’ve written before in a few places publicly (i think), the series was a bit slow and boring for me at first. But as I kept watching, I suddenly saw where the writing was going and what interesting things about its characters it was telling us. I got invested in the series for it’s strong family themes and how it handled its characters and story arcs, but also the music was something holding it all together for me emotionally. So I became a genuine fan and started reading more of the original Usagi Yojimbo comic too

one commonality I saw in many fanworks is that Yuichi is often changed a lot to fit a fan's own idea of who he should be as a character in relation to Leo or the fan's own setting/AU. This is fairly normal in fandom in general, esp for smth like TMNT. After all, why not play around in the sandbox given by canon? I also noticed fanworks often ignore the canon or worldbuilding set in his own show, and even the other prominent SRTUC characters get ignored/rewritten more than not. Or people make their own new versions with the same name. Which is fine, fanon!Yuichi and other fanversions are interesting. I usually like seeing redesigns in other fandoms and here they are interesting too, but I actually like the character as he is! He's funny to see fail but also fun/funny to watch/listen in general, especially interacting with other characters, whether main cast or one-off characters. He's a blorbo for me now who has taken up permanent root in my fandom/artist brain. I felt like he'd be fun to write in a shipfic or genfic with Rise!Leo bc their personalities are both so similar and so different. They feel like a strangely matching set, despite the shows never having a crossover (and despite Yuichi technically being a whole new original character for the show from the crew to avoid messing up the og Usagi cast too much). I want to write some genfic and Chizu and Kitsune centric fic one day too if I got the time.

Now after becoming a fan though, it’s honestly a bit sad to see people eschew his personality and writing completely - it feels fine that other fans are making AU and fandesign versions based on him, but this just means that when I open the Yuichi Usagi tags or search - I only find these fan interpretations but no versions where another fan is also a fan of the series. Which isn’t to say, that there aren’t other fans posting fanart, but that it’s just a lot less common that people tagging him as “TMNT usagi” or “Rise Usagi” etc. Some fans have said this is disrespectful to Sakai and the Samurai Rabbit crew - some even go on to hate the character (???) which like - it’s a cartoon. why are you angry at it. And these are often the older fans who are around my age (30+) or older, who are fed up with the younger parts of fandom - which I kinda get. I’ve even seen people make stuff up about the series, but I’m not really interested in pursuing that further because you know what. People have grievances about fandom stuff all the time. It’s pointless and a little mindless sometimes. There are so many bigger problems going on in the world. Fandom is something we are all supposed to enjoy. So to argue with another fan - I don’t have the energy to do that anymore. I might correct factual errors here and there, because that feels like it can be a courtesy sometimes. But I’m not interested in laying down blame or building some sort of longer discussion around things that should be fun, if they’re not fun anymore. Honestly, it would be nice if for once, the older and younger parts of TMNT fandoms could respect each other and get along. Like I’m not feeling hopeless about that but it’s just annoying to come back every 5-8 years and see people fighting and arguing about similar things. But that’s another topic entirely.

I don't honestly quite get the dislike of the character either, but I guess when I was younger, I would have been annoyed by a character like this too. (Foster’s Home comes to mind...where I hated Bloo because of his personality sdfsdfs but I was a very picky child with cartoons in generally) Personally, to me it seems ppl ignore the show and its writing bc of various aspects: besides simple dislike, it's easy to look at a newer cartoon show in a surface-level way; many still have this stance on cartoons that a "dumb kids show" can't be interesting or have substance; the show falls into many concessions to fit what netflix ordered of the crew. + audience tastes have changed over time - and no, not even talking abt just spiderverse, tho thankfully that has changed what more "general" audiences expect of both an 3D, animated film and a superhero/action flick. (cinemas here even listed it as a 2D animated film a while ago lol. it's a complex bag of factors but audiences + specifically distributors/studios are becoming slowly more receptive to 2D animation again. slightly.)

What may have been fun to see 10+ years ago for a 3D tv cartoon then, would not fly for viewers now. Even if we ignore internet-posting fans who do like it (who seem to be primarily teens and young adults up to age 24), and how popular the show was at it's premiere (3rd in the UK among kids?), there might be those in the target audience itself as well who do not like it for various reasons. Additionally, viewers are fickle about cartoons in general. So there are probably many more reasons people have to dislike the character and show that are related to other things. Again, this is just how fandom sometimes works. I’ve been in a lot of other fandoms before where I’m the only one who likes canon or likes writing canon-adjacent, exploring theories in canon etc and this to me started to feel like a similar situation. So I understand when people say the SRTUC fandom is kind of non-existant, if so much of the “fan content” relies on a ship. But saying as someone whose seen sort of “worse” at least there are other people at all and the tags mostly have fanart/fic and not other kinds of stuff, like spam or worse.

Whatever us fans' view might be however, he is still a valid character in the Usagi-verse, AU or not. I've read and listened to interviews with both Stan Sakai and the show crew, and seen artist portfolios with work from the show. The overall experience on the creators' side seems to have been positive. That, and I primarily view the show as a sort of transmedia storytelling venue... almost. It never takes away from the og comic and it adds an interesting alternative future to it, similar to Space Usagi, but as a fun cartoon. It becomes a sort of "gateway tent" for Usagi media and kids who watch this might be inclined to open up the comics, rifle through their parents old books and discover the world of Usagi Yojimbo proper. Like the comic, it also becomes a vehicle for learning for those willing to look things up later after the show, i.e. the yokai lore, customs in modern japan etc. So to me, the show is a net positive and Yuichi Usagi an interesting take on a Usagi descendant. The show is also interesting for me for it's casting (all asian-american cast. hello???) and staff choices as it seemed that everyone was on board with anything Stan Sakai wanted +they tried to put Miyamoto Usagi into the series as much as they could despite Netflix giving them a full limit (or almost a no?) at first - but the series writers and artists included him in an interesting way. So to me the series is good and as a fan, I can see it have interesting crossovers (a lot of the crew also seemed to be big TMNT fans and big UY fans at the same time)

Yuichi is headstrong, openly friendly and impulsive, but also the only one who notices things "outside of the box" more often than the rest of his team. He relies almost entirely on his trained sword skills and complete chance to get out of almost any situations. Leo is sorta painted as a "team clown" and "team faceman", (s1) always trying to make things more lighthearted in stressful situations, which starts to contrast his more strategic nature as we go on in the series. He wonders why he's not trusted (s2) but the thing is, most times he does not tell them his plans, even if they work, so he's seen as impulsive. Together in any shipping or genfic scenarios, I feel like they would feed off each other's lighthearted natures and impulsive instincts, but also work well together bc of how many things they notice, but also, rabbit brain empty, and Leo would be more cautious. That was what I initially kind of imagined for them when I first watched through Samurai Rabbit.

I had a big "mega-crossover" fic idea back in august which would also feature the 03 ship Leosagi, where I could both have a tmnt crossover, write fun action-adventure with the TMNT + Usagi kids and write some sort of neat continuation to what 03 Leo and Usagi might have been going through in a 13-year timeskip. But for that, I thought the tagging would be easier with og tags vs just trying to number leosagi again. Since Rise started in 2018, we often tag it as TMNT 2018, but Usagi Chronicles aired in 2022, (even if production started in 2020) so any attempt to tag it as "2020s leosagi" has just left me more confused. So a unique tag was needed for my own tagging use. I’ve helped make some smoosh names before and this just seemed like a fun thing to do in a fandom I was sort of new to (the ship and SRTUC fandom)

Oh also, I read thru the fanlore article linked above on pairing name conventions and I had totally forgotten some of the ways to make ship names bc I've become so accustomed to portmanteaus and "_shipping" rather than x (used both in general ship names as well as slash pairings) + (preslash or platonic) or even / (slashfic) just bc those sort of conventional ways to tag are harder to find on tumblr bc of its tagging system (special characters make tagging unorganizable or harder to use)

+ I've been more active in modern fandom spaces for only 13+ years, while stuff like ff.net was maybe confusing to use as a young teen. So again, some pairing naming conventions have sorta escaped me over time lol. So it would be interesting to see what else people start to use for this newer ship of Yuichi x Rise!Leo

Different kinds of names for one pairing are fairly common in any kind of fandom. Pokemon and YGO fandoms have put these on vote for example (thinking of doing this out of curiosity) but that would have to mean a more unified fandom I suppose? Having both a smoosh name (leosagi) and _shipping name (katanashipping) have stuck with the old ship and imo that should be respected because the ship conventions were there way before this newer ship or these newer series came about. I’ve seen many posts now where ppl complain about the tagging, especially the character tagging and the leosagi tag itself, because technically again, totally new ship. So to be a bit upset at that imo is totally understandable. imagine your favourite old ship you’ve been tagging the same is suddenly overtaken by a new, only vaguely related one? I also like the online shipping-related analogy: if you’re looking for a specific game in the store, why would a pair of shoes be tagged? or a different game? you’re only at the store for that one game, but now other stuff is being suggested to you because of other users’ tagging.

Considering those slash-ship naming conventions, I suppose I made the ship name to be more Yuichi-centric a bit - starts with his name, tho again, this was just one way to "flavor" the ship for me - but also specifically for the Yuichi we have on the show, because I enjoy the show and understand why Usagi is written the way he is on it. Mainly that he is given "annoying teen" traits to contrast the changes he goes through in the short time of the 2 seasons + he seems be written with intentional ADHD-coding. + I wanted something more lighthearted and funnier-sounding, so Nardo was added bc that is Leo's nickname on the Rise show that his family uses teasingly, mainly by Donnie. I thought that would make it unique. (And, this is more subtle, but I also thought it was more funny that Nardo sorta sounded like "Naruto" and that Usagi Chronicles has a few Naruto influences in its art and design, so, slightly matching in coincidence.)

But also Yuinardo just sounds fun and easy to pronounce + I cannot find any other tags that it overlaps with. Main use for tags after all - easy to find and unique - which I think is why the og Leosagi tag prevailed among the other names that popped up back then when the Leosagi 2003 ship first became popular online. I have no idea however if there was a ship for this before this, since I never went looking really (and there weren't much leosagi fic on ff.net then to get any impression of previous fandom activity)

If you want to continue to use Leochi or Leoichi as a tag, that's still fine bc its a big tag and more popular for this ship. But if you also like the Samurai Rabbit show, feel free to use the Yuinardo tag as well, depending on the the use ^^

Going through the fanlore article, I also realized that hey, actually having multiple tags/names is normal in fandoms! It's to make searching/naming for different flavours of pairings easier. I forgor. Let me explain.

the Leosagi as well as the Leochi/Leoichi tags sorta blew up in august after the ROTTMNT movie bc of new or returning fans rediscovering an old ship that's been a constant since the 03 fandom. and ppl posted fanart of the two versions in the tags before this too, but there was a notable uptick in those new fans after august 2022. I think when Samurai Rabbit aired, ppl posted fanart then too.

The SliderBunny tag existed already for people's own teen!Miyamoto Usagi x Rise!Leo versions and honestly, this could continue as an umbrella tag for any Rise!Leo x Usagi ships going forward, as "Rise Leosagi" has built up more as a tag. or "2018 Leosagi" whichever do you prefer

For 2003 Leosagi, Katanashipping exists bc it's unique to them (the katana-gifting scene in the 03 show) + it is a more specific name and tag, which helps to find it easier or make it more specific. + it just adds the extra flavor of knowing what went on between the two in the show. That was their last canon interaction as far as we know.

I want to also add here that the 03 version of Miyamoto Usagi is specifically very different. I remember reading an article somewhere which mentioned that Stan Sakai had been a bit upset w the 03 team that they made Usagi so young and different from his comics. I'll repost/add the link another time, but the main point is that the 03 pairing/friendship is quite different from both the existing canon comics and the 12!tmnt iteration of their friendship.

someone pointed out that the yuinardo tag could be for the ship Yuichi Usagi x 12!Leonardo but I do not see it that way for the above reasons. But what could be the name for that then? That's for the shippers of that ship to decide. I've heard some variations of smashing the names together for this like Luichi and YuiLeo (I kinda like that 2nd one myself), but they both sound a bit too much like real names to be tags/ship names.

I do not know the Yuichi x 12Leo name, but I suppose it could follow common convention of adding 12 in front, since that has been done before for people's own versions of 12leosagi as well, so thir's world and see what happens! so it'll be interesting takes off more. There is potential for both angst and comedy in this one. 🤔 what people will start tagging this onnce coed be 12leochi or 12yuinardo maybe even. I do not see it honestly, but I also did not continue watching much of tmnt12 after season 3 bc it was hard to see Leo go through Stuff(tm) again and I did not like how the show approached writing its female characters. So I don't quite get the appeal, but I think if fans see opportunities to write it in interesting/fun ways, why not. I headcanon 12!Leo as a transfem lesbian, and Yuichi reads slightly transmasc for me, so maybe that's why I don't quite see it bc my fanon ideas are a bit different for them ^^; + it feels like they are from different times from a "when it was made" perspective, the shows' vibes are different (12 is more horror-genre scifi a lot of times while SRTUC does not lean into its horror thematics as much as it could be the name for that then? That's for the shippers of that ship to decide.

the transfem sapphic version I know one person calls Blue Sapphics, which is cute, but idk if there's a common name that every shipper uses? let me know in the reblogs or comments.

anyway, larger point also; it's not so bad to have multiple tags (as long as you use them according to what's in the post) and multiple names - so that one tag (leosagi) doesn't have to do all the heavy-lifting and that fans who only want one flavor, can have that. tagging is more like a courtesy but it helps to make finding fanart/other fans of the same thing easier, but they often also follow what becomes commonly discussed and used among a fandom.

Sorry if this is super-duper long, I haven't been able to write normally since discovering the internet and that I could post on it and things just happen to get this long when I finally finish a writing ^^;

crunches my brain a lil as I make this post bc i have other stuff cooking in my brain

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maxemilianverstappen · 2 years ago

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Fanfic Trope Anon, I got your ask.

I am not a popular blog and I never tag my diskhorse in a way it would appear on major tags; so, I would like to say a few things about the subject you brought up on small dick and feminization tropes applied to Max being very popular in fanfiction, but I will put it under a read more to spare people.

We all have different kinks and you can have yours and I can have mine and it is none of our business to judge the other for having these kinks, but lately, small dick Max/omega Max/feminized Max is so popular that it makes me question what can be the allure of it. (Seb also is quietly getting the same treatment and unsurprisingly the other side of the coin is L/ewis and M/ark, which I would also talk about the dynamics of, but our subject matter is Max.)

In the past, I saw many posts about how not liking L/ewis' fashion sense and criticising it was a form of emasculating him. Some of the points those posts made were quite on point and even though I don't like the guy, trying to emasculate a guy who identifies as male/masculine thru his fashion choices had sounded very cruel and made me angry on his behalf.

Fast forward to today... I have been a part of this fandom's fanfic side since 2018. I have read the biggest ship tags from start to finish. I have looked at the most used and post popular tags since then and until M*xiel became a thing, A/BO wasn't at all popular in the fandom and until those Max in swimsuit/sports shorts pics surfaced and Max became a serious WDC contender, there wasn't much feminization or small dick fics around either. Not just about him, in general. But slowly, especially due to some prominent M*xiel writers' influence, omega Max/pregnant and lactating Max/small dick Max/feminized Max became extremely popular and L/ewis and C/harles fans took it from there.

I used to read M*xiel a lot back when the ship tag wasn't infested with the above kinks and back when I thought the writers of it liked both D/aniel and Max equally. Then I realized most famous Tumblr bloggers and M*xiel writers were actually just D/aniel fans and using Max as his adjacent because he gave them the "shippy" material and diskhorse they needed to get their creative juices going, like abused by his dad Max, like depressed Max, like asshole Max, like Max who is just a loser in life Max... Okay. I understand these tropes really lend themselves to quite dramatic fics, alright, whatever floats ppl's boats as long as their knight in shining armor, sunshine personified D/aniel can step in and teach Max some humanity and love and yada yada. I'm a writer, I can see the allure of this. If i was shipping it, I might also have written a grand dramatic fic around these tropes. But what I hate about this shit is that it shaped the way most new fans' perception of Max.

When people rightfully say that D/TS and fanfiction shape the F1mblr's perception of reality and moral standards, I agree. Max being written as a person who is "not whole/defected/in need of saving/a machine/an asshole/a terrorist" had created this "perception" of Max that some ppl must be finding appealing to deconstruct in the worst way possible.

Like, we see a male/masculine identifying guy who looks quite though, broad, tall, who is actually self satisfied, complete, strong and uncaring of what others think of him, who has built his personality around his own ideals and beliefs and wants instead of caring about how he is perceived by others. He looks like such a character, isn't he? The way he is satisfied with himself, is in peace with himself is making his haters crazy.

I know there is a certain allure to deconstructing a guy who is stereotyped as an "alpha" into a much more human, much more real person than the "trope-y" version of how the majority of the fans perceive him as, as I am fond of doing it with Kimi, but this really feels different with Max and Seb.

Look, I don't think I am the best writer out there, but taking a guy from the confines of one stereotype just to put him into another, then it looks both cheap and unserious and ridiculous if the aim is just to subvert the possible tropes that might be attached onto a guy like Max....

If the aim is just to sexualize him in ways that depict him as a feminized person, an omega person or a person with a small dick, just to really enjoy the said kinks/tropes... Then, well... Yknmk, but why, really?

Is it due to some people's need to emasculate him? ( Why the criticism against the fashion sense of one guy was such a huge deal enough to be called emasculation but when we question the emerging popularity of these particular tropes about another guy we are ridiculed and even being lashed upon with such a defensive force as if they're defending their lives?) To strip him of his power on the track/as the top athlete of his field? To make their chosen blorbo to shine through?

I enjoy writing abo fics, too, but from a gender studies perspective, we must all agree that it is absolutely fucked up and only serves as another reminder of gender inequality and sexual violence. So, it must be cathartic to write about a normally very broad and alpha male looking kinda guy as some lactating needy weak omega who needs the cock of his rival to feel complete/to find real happiness/etc? The dynamics at play here is really strange. I have read stuff about r*pe fantasy/o/mega heat/a/lpha rut situations serving as a liberator from the guilt of having wild sex full of pleasure, etc. And i get the allure, but I look at the Max omega fics and all I see is traditional femaleness expected by the society being forced upon a guy. And the guy liking it a lot while the writers and the readers are talking about misogyny and feminism and yada yada on the side. Feminization, too. I enjoy the occasional lingerie wearing guy image in the fics, but Max enjoying female lingerie while being verbally degraded and used sexually by his rivals and being happy about it and even seeking it out is a theme i see quite a lot.

I mean, this thing started to turn up as a major tag in AO/3 recently. And it's always Max or Seb, or L/ando... Three of the most hated guys of the fandom for some reason huh... And always with the people who are their rivals for some reason.

Toxic ships are a thing and ppl enjoy them for whatever reason, yeah. But nobody can deny that their popularity skyrocketed with the D/TS and with the new influx of fans. Yeah, liking toxic ships don't reflect what you actually like in a real life relationship, true. But it is very interesting how popular these hate ships have become in recent years as ppl found more about M*rtian, Br*cedes, S*wis (which funnily evolved itself into a flower ship thanks to its delusional fans) and recently latched onto whatever L/ewis and Max are called as ship.

Always Max is the one having these kinks latched onto him. Writing him as a top/switch in a healthy and normal way brings in less comments and kudoeses i guess. I have even been confronted about how I can not like omega Max and how i can even think of max as an alpha male.

Going deeper into these waters might even get one be called as a T*rf, lol. Yeah, for example, not wanting to see my fav treated in the way almost all the female population has been fighting against deserves being called that name. Or not liking a small dick Max or Seb being used by L/ewis or C/harles... What kind of an itch does that scratch I wonder. Genuinely.

And let me say that for anyone who has read this till here, this is not an invitation to come to my inbox and spew shit at me just because i try to understand why the fandom likes certain shit in conjunction to certain drivers and what it reflects about the actual state of mind of the said people. I'm not trying to start shit here. I will block anyone who tries to, though.

#this is messy and long anon sorry #it is late #but i wated to answer you

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plague-of-insomnia · 2 years ago

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hm idk how ur gonna feel abt an ask like this but i do want to get smth off my chest & u seem p safe. feel free to delete if u want

i saw a post recently talking abt how "gay" got used as a slur a lot more than people acknowledge. and it got me thinking of my school years & how often it got thrown around.

thing is. and heres where my train of thought goes off the rails. i actually experienced the word "incest" as an attack more than the word "gay"... which. ill explain. but it really got me thinking on this whole purity culture & demonising of incest depicted in literature & yknow taking things too far with whats considered incest.

bc at the end of the day. the reason incest is illegal (mostly) is to prevent inbreeding & the health issues that come along with that. if ur not blood related then theres no problem.

and like. the reason i got called incestuous and generally ostracised was bc i was close with a boy in my year. like we dated for a week as 14 yros do. and at some point i discovered that hey. his last name is the same as my aunts and lo and behold hes my 2nd cousin thru marriage or smth. so. not incest at all.

anyway that p much ruined our friendship (& it was a friendship. i broke things off before i even knew we were related bc i just didnt feel the same way and we stayed friends for a little bit) all bc some kids couldnt let it go that we had the vaguest relation to each other. he got bullied for the rest of our school year & ive felt horribly guilty for leaving him bc i wanted to be "cool" & ended up without any close friends like we were.

sorry if thats a weird thing to put in ur inbox.

Hey, anon. I don't mind this ask. I hope you don't mind me replying publicly. (In future if you don't just say so.)

This post will be a bit long, so I'll go ahead and put it under a readmore.

TW for discussions of "gay" used in a negative way, and discussions of the use of the word "incest," and its association with child sexual abuse, though there's really nothing terribly bad here as I'm not going into detail on any of thse topics. (If you need something tagged, though, let me know.)

Now, I'm old as dirt by tumblr standards, and I remember VIVIDLY the word "gay" being used in a negative light. As a kid, I didn't really see it used as a "slur" per se, but it was used to mean something was bad.

Like, if you saw a movie that sucked, you'd say "Man, that movie was so gay." It meant something like "lame."

So obviously, it wasn't a good thing, and when I got a bit older and was explained why using the word was bad, I stopped, and fortunately most other kids did too and it mostly faded from use (in that sense) at least as far as I noticed.

(I'm not saying gay hasn't been used as a more nasty slur/word ofc, this is just my personal experience with it.)

Granted, keep in mind when I was in high school, our LGBTQ+ club was just the "Gay/Straight Alliance." Back then, it was basically, you were gay/lesbian, or you were an ally. We never talked about trans people or nonbinary people or ace/aro people. Ofc every one of those identities/kinds of people existed, but as far as my world went, they didn't. Most of my circle of friends was queer in some way, but many were closeted or semi-closeted for various reasons.

Anyway, sorry for that detour. Now, as to your incest situation. I'm sorry that happened to you. It definitely wasn't fair. You didn't have any way to know if you were related, and if/when you did it was "easy" to end the relationship. But kids are kids, and they always love to find a way to single people out, and they probably didn't really care what the actual truth was.

Even if you'd discovered having a similar name was total coincidence, I'm sure they'd still have bullied you for "incest."

I wasn't bullied for it, thankfully, but I did have a classmate in high school with the same last name as mine. My name is very common in some places, but where I lived at that time it was not, so everyone assumed we were fraternal twins. He was a nice enough guy, but I really didn't want people to think we were siblings. But no matter how many times we both explained we weren't related, no one believed us.

Sometimes, once someone makes their mind up about something, there's no changing it.

As for "abandoning" your friend because you didn't want to be left out and regretting it, I get that too. There was a guy I dated when I was around 16, and we were very passionate, but I think honestly I entered a major depressive episode and lost all interest in everything, including him, and... anyway, I regret how things ended between us even today, many, many years later. I wish I could shake my 16-year-old self and tell them not to be so cruel, but we can't change the past, only learn from it and move forward.

With regards to antis/purity culture taking incest so far, I do agree it has gotten ridiculous. As you said, the reason incest is taboo is because of inbreeding, because if your (general you) DNA is too closely related, you increase the chance of having major/significant diseases due to a lack of genetic diversity. But antis tend not to understand the WHY's behind things (since they also believe pedophilia is bad bc it's disgusting, and not because it hurts children, who become real grown adults).

But I have seen some really wild takes called incest. Like a ship from one fandom where the male and female characters are friends. A lot of people consider it "problematic" apparently, because they have a "sibling-like" relationship. They did not grow up together, they aren't related, and yet that's "incest" according to antis.

I do want to mention another reason that incest can/is considered so bad, and it's because, despite what antis may think, most sexual abuse of children comes from someone close to them in their lives, often a family member or close friend. So for a lot of people, when they think of "incest," they closely associate it with sexual abuse of a child. It's possible that's why antis get so upset about it. I don't know. But that is another aspect to it. (Ofc for you, in your past situation, you were both around the same age, so that's not the case, but that association is there.)

But, in the end, in fiction, it doesn't matter, because there are not actual children who can be conceived or harmed, and so the whole purpose behind why incest isn't allowed in many places in modern times doesn't exist.

I hope you're doing OK now, anon. Don't be to hard on yourself. A lot of people have done things when they were young teens they regret and wish they could "undo," but as long as you learned from that experience so you could become a better person than that 14-year-old version of you, I think you're doing OK.

Sending you some hugs. <3

#poi answers #not kuro #anon

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verycharismaticdragon · 1 year ago

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Okay, as threatened promised, I am elaborating on why I think BingQiu is guy yuri in more ways. This is written as someone who submitted both of these ships to this tournament (as in, see the propaganda they have under the poll? for both ships, one of those quotes is mine), and consistently voted for both throughout the entire bracket. I very much think they both deserve to be considered guy yuri, but: BingQiu simply matches HuaLian point for point on every count, and then has some more qualifiers on top of that. Here we go:

Popularity of femslash version in fandom: both have dedicated tags for f/f content, #lesbingqiu and #hualesbians. Equally matched.

Gender shenanigans:

Hua Cheng has a (canonically mentioned) female form, and Xie Lian can swap his gender (as other gods canonically do). Neither of those things however actually happen on page. Xie Lian does dress in female clothes several times, and his Heavenly Ceremonial Procession costume is canonically noted to be designed with both feminine and masculine markers. But as for Hua Cheng, there aren't really any femme markers aside from the aforementioned never-seen female form, and many have actually noted that he is rather transmasc coded.

BingQiu, as already mentioned in the og propaganda, embody multitudes. Shen Qingqiu often casts himself as a wife, and sometimes also as a mother. At the same time, he consistently refers to his Luo Binghe as Bing-mei (little sister Bing) to differentiate him from the original toxic-masc version, and often compares him to a delicate-hearted young maiden. (If you didn't click thru the links in the og post, Pio has a nice compilation of Shen Qingqiu mentally femme-ing them both up here. This is far from complete list though there's so much more.) On Luo Binghe's side, while we don't get his inner monologue like with Shen Qingqiu, we do know that he very much performs the duties of ancient Chinese wife. This includes not just things like cooking and keeping the house clean, but also waiting on the husband and running the household. Like, when Luo Binghe does paperwork for Shen Qingqiu's Peak? He's putting himself in the role of a wife. Also, when he was proposing, he explicitly offered Shen Qingqiu both options for which of them would be "marrying in" - as in, which of them would be "the wife" socially. He was ready to take either. Additionally, while I think the genderfuckery described above is more guy yuri than what I'm about to say next, I'd be remiss not to mention that their dynamic lends itself nicely to t4t f/f reading. As previously mentioned, moving away from (toxic) masculinity is a major theme, and the ending in particular can be read as a transition metaphor. Like if you wanted to write a fic where they are transbians post-canon? You wouldn't need to change anything, you could just follow the thorough-line charted by canon.

On this aspect, I'd say bingqiu are having more fun with it.

Applicable lesbian stereotypes: hualian are u-haul lesbians who moved in together the day they met; bingqiu are toxic lesbians with tons of drama and a blast radius of Their Entire Deal affecting other people's lives. Equally matched.

Religious themes:

Wait, you might ask, how is this even related to yuri? Well, consider how many yuris are set in Catholic schools and the like. Yuri loves its religious imagery and themes. There are some real-world considerations we could have about that, but for the purpose of this funi little poll, we will not be discussing that and just take the genre as it is, okay? Okay.

In hualian, we have yuri where gay love and devotion to God are considered as similar, one understood through the other. In an extremely on the nose way with Xie Lian literally being Hua Cheng's one and only god.

In bingqiu, we have yuri where gay love is explored instead through the motif of temptation and original sin. (This is not, btw, necessarily a negative in yuri. Some of them use God/religion as stand in for the patriarchal, so.) It even does something neat with it, by having the outward perception of bingqiu and the actual inner workings of their relationship not match. On the outside, Binghe is "the devil" (literal demon) corrupting Shen Qingqiu - who, similarly to Eve, is perceived as a witless victim: if only they could see it is the devil speaking to them, if only they took a moment to think and perceive the lies, then they wouldn't have sinned! But when you look deeper, Binghe is the one who was corrupted ("blackened") as a result of Shen Qingqiu's actions. And this is ofc paralleled with him being corrupted/"bent" - in Shen Qingqiu's perception - into being gay, also as a result of SQQ's actions. Even the heavenly demon mark on his forehead is called, canonically, a mark of sin! So: Binghe is Eve. Shen Qingqiu is the snake/the devil. And SVSSS is the kind of yuri that goes 'fuck the idea that female choice is inherently sinful and that being a man is inherently better than being a woman. Also Eve and the snake are girlfriends now.'

So: both are yuri-coded in this aspect, just use different themes. Equally matched.

Yuri-like plot points:

Dying for the other party (Hua Cheng: 3 times, Shen Qingqiu: 3 times. Luo Binghe arguably 1 time; an attempt was made.)

Watching the other party die (Hua Cheng had to watch helplessly as Xie Lian was killed again and again over the course of one night; Luo Binghe had to watch Shen Qingqiu die in his arms on three different occasions, the last of which prompted the aforementioned attempt to die too.)

Long term pining (yes, Hua Cheng did 800 years and Binghe only 11. But considering it as relative to potential lifespan, we only know about a version of Binghe going up to 200 years in age, and it's implied he is dying eventually; Hua Cheng could theoretically go on "living" indefinitely. His scale is naturally going to be different. Also, I'm inclined to give Binghe extra yuri points for tenderly and intimately caring for Shen Qingqiu's corpse, preventing it from decomposing, for 5 of those years. Reversing time in defiance of natural order is very yuri.)

This far, pretty matched. However!

SVSSS has an additional edge here because, as previously discussed at length, its entire plot is built on not one but two very yuri-like thematic frameworks. TGCF simply aint got that.

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So, to sum up: bingqiu has pretty much all of the guy yuri features hualian does, but are having more fun playing with femininity and their novel's plot is much more yuri-like. They deserve the first place.

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Addendum (1):

Actually, both Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu also have some interesting feminine-aligned coding that's not so much guy yuri as it's just. there, existing, which I want to point out for completion's sake.

Luo Binghe is an example of a danmei trope shàonǚ gōng - lit. young maiden top. I wrote about it in some detail before, for another character in this poll, but the short version is: the purpose of this trope is to fuck with the portrayal of the top as traditionally masculine, and it's done by giving him traits, values, or interests that are considered traditionally feminine. (This specifically originated as pushback against 'masculine top, feminine bottom' stereotype in BL.)

Shen Qingqiu's arc throughout the book, in a way, is him transitioning from fanboy to fangirl. (/a joke but not entirely) To explain: there are two pretty distinct styles to fannish activities, that I will call 'lore-keeping' and 'transformative' (because I lost the article I got this concept from and dont remember which words it used) We all know what 'transformative' means. For 'lore-keeping', think Star Wars fan who knows every kind of ship and every alien species in its extensive canon - in other words, it's a fan who expresses their love through knowledge of canon. Now, while both styles can be performed by people of any gender, and while any particular fan may perform both styles to some degree, due to the particular fannish spaces where each style originated, lore-keeping tends to skew male (fanboys), and transformative tends to skew female (fangirls). Applying to Shen Yuan|Qingqiu, you can see that he starts very much on the lore-keeper side. His gripes with canon are due to plotholes and structural problems and other things he finds lacking, which he expresses thru trying to shake those things out of the author. However, by the end of the book, he admits to himself that filling plotholes and knowing more brought him no joy or satisfaction, and only made him sadder for the characters. Instead, he finds happiness in transforming the original PIDW into a gay love story where his blorbo ends up happy and content. So: Shen Qingqiu went from demanding the story to be changed for him to changing the story through his (fan)work. From lore-keeper to transformative. From traditionally male-fan-performed fannish activity, to traditionally female-fan-performed one.

Addendum (2):

It isn’t easy being a cultivator girl… (famous bingqiu pad commercial, now in gif form)

⭐ Guy yuri tournament finale ⭐

All propaganda under the cut!

For Bingqiu: "One is a housewife and the other is a trophy wife. They both want to be each other's wife so bad (even though Shen Qingqiu would never admit it)"

"Where do I even start... Housewife x trophy wife. Every gender havers. Shen Qingqiu can't decide if he himself is wife or mommy, but is convinced his husband is a delicate lovesick maiden. Luo Binghe has self-assigned himself all of the wifely duties of an ancient Chinese wife years before Shen Qingqiu has become remotely aware of his crush. Also later in the novel he acts like a jealous girlfriend. And specifically girlfriend, like it was an important part of his arc that he stopped acting like a jealous boyfriend and started acting like a jealous girlfriend instead. This has won him his man."

"They're insane, fucking unhinged"

more here and here

For Hualian:

"Xie Lian is a god and Hua Cheng is his devoted believer, which is very yuri. They've also been separated for 800 years, which is very yuri too. Oh and they've been through The Horrors! With one of them forced to helplessly watch as the other suffered unimaginable pain! Now that's extremely yuri of them, if magical girl animes are to be believed..."

"What's more yuri than 800 years of devotion? Nothing that's what! Ghosts usually move on and disappear after a century of so, Hua Cheng is fueled by love so strong he very literally crawled out of hell, became a Ghost King, fought and defeated 33 gods and searched for his love for centuries until they were finally able to meet again. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian are so yuri there's an entire section of the fandom that just draws/writes them as women, not too weird since being separated and then connected by fate to ultimately defeat a really powerful evil god together is sapphic culture"

this post as well

#svsss #bingqiu #polls

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soranihimawari · 2 years ago

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I posted 5,328 times in 2022

105 posts created (2%)

5,223 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@karamfilmare

@sexyfreckss

@kyovtani

@mintmatcha

@kentoangel

I tagged 914 of my posts in 2022

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue - 379 posts

#sora recs - 314 posts

#sora after hours - 255 posts

#haikyuu x reader - 216 posts

#🌻. dash - 120 posts

#sora 🐝 reading - 106 posts

#sora scribbles 2022 - 62 posts

#haikyuu!! - 61 posts

#haikyuu fluff - 30 posts

#sora scribbles - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 112 characters

#(getting into trigun i read the scanlation and so i wanna make sure no one else ever experiences the same thing)

My Top Posts in 2022:

Casualty of Love

You meet at the age of nine; go through the trials of growing up; only to realize you too are a casualty of love

Rating: angst to fluff

Timeskip!Bokuto x yn x timeskip!Akaashi

Everything and everyone is going thru it

Many athletes know the risk of playing the game that they love. This is the story of how this lesson is learned between two individuals who, for lack of better words, find their way back to each other through a series of extenuating circumstances...

At summer camp, when you were no younger than nine, you meet your first friend. He was this boisterous fellow with a charming grin and platinum blonde hair. You extend your hand to him when you introduce each other by the proxy of the counselors in charge of your age group. Apparently, all the other children were having the time of their lives without you four. It's not your fault no one wanted to learn how to swim today, the weather just had other plans. Play time and free time were tied into one blissful three hour period. You sit across the play area, fidegting with your hands as you try to come up with a good (yet politely formal) way to say hello. Although he beats you to the introductions, he by passes your hand and goes straight into a hug. He explains you look pretty like his older sisters. This was something that greatly amused you.

So why does he always seem to flirt with the reporters or members of the fan clubs during the spring inter high? Does he not think the past decade was a trial run on a friendship built over graham crackets and cicadas photo taking? Did he forget who was there when he scraped his knee in the volleyball court he’d one day earn millions in? Or! Or the one instance you forgot your umbrella and he hands you his spare clean one green from last September? No. Of course not, you think. Not when she’s around him and all you shared with him is magnified by the promise of a ring in white gold.

“Hey, YN! Over here! What’s—hey?” He jogs up to you, still beaming, but when he sees how his world cries, he makes a damning choice. “Sunshine? What’s wrong?”

The congratulations you want to say is forgotten the moment he realizes everything happens in reverse. Your face falters for a moment and the world you wished to be a part of expectantly close it’s door. It’s why you don’t come around readily anymore; the way he eyes find his current fiancé first better finding you; and though neither you nor him are mind readers perhaps asking you to be the stand-in for her was what made you keep your distance.

“I was your embers,” you tilt your head to one side, lips trembling into a wonky smile. “Not your shade of gold, huh? Congrats on the win Bo.”

He drops his hands to the side clearly seeing how you seem to have let go of all hope; you love him enough to let him go. Your name king sent under the shadow of the star. Yet you are tethered to the sunshine, you who at one point was unamused by the grandeur of being with the MSBY team, are the first to take a bit of the warmth with you. You were eclipsed by the flashes of reporters as the pauper truly has lost their prince.

The regular ace comes to know this judging by an empty chair by his side, on the other side, his fiancé sits chatting away with the others, so why does he of all people, deflate during the congratulatory dinner? Those closet to him, like his best friend who knows the strained sense of loyalty since high school, decides to drunkenly explain you used a lyric to describe your relationship:

“Did it ever occur to you that they’ve been in love with you and you,” he points an obnoxious figure at his friend’s chest. “You replaced them so easily? N’wonder yn was desperate to leave.”

Gun metal eyes powered through making sure his attempts to fill in the blanks for his friend’s daft sense of mind seemed so angry at hi/ former captain. Their half of the table is eerily quiet. Maybe they all thought this wouldn’t have happened if you came for a little bit or this would have happened regardless.

“Akaashi, that’s enough,” the fiancé decided to cut him off.

The author scoffs, rolling his eyes at her.

“No, it’s not,” he chuckles. Bokuto’s chopsticks trembled in his palms eerily like an owl in distress, feathers in full attention.

He points at everyone else at the table with an incredible look of foreboding. “Because you don’t get to be a causality of love. You don’t get to console yn who, by the by, accepted a position overseas for the next two years. Or was it five? Bah! To hell with it.”

The editor leaves a few yen notes on the counter.

“You couldn’t even congratulate them on their win,” Akaashi says loud enough for his friend to hear. “I’m sure they’re planning to enjoy a life without you. I’m out of here.”

“Aggashi.”

Beautiful. Bokuto, an empath as he is, is beautiful when he cries. So much so that his smile breaks the world after the rainstorm. This heaviness he feels, it’s like he betrayed his family; sure you weren’t coming to the celebration dinner. Love is meant to heal, hurt, make you stronger, but why does no one talk about how lonely it can make one feel? The loneliness is what seeps in Akaashi Keiji’s veins because he’s seen and lived through every detrimental trench you both put yourselves through-willingly-without abandon. You are determined and driven much like Bokuto, must be a friendship loyalty thing from an early age, but Akaashi knows his ace; knows how Bokuto is impulsive and happy when you are there for him. Now that you’re not and you’re dealing with these emotions head on, you’re not in a safe place; hell you’re in your home right about now probably knee deep in ice cream sundae and fries going over a checklist of things you’re leaving behind.

This argument between the lads seems like you’re going to be Helen of Troy at this point. The others on this side of the table are pushing the food on their plates around or at least enjoying their neat drink. Akaashi moves to take his jacket off the chair and grabbed his scarf. He knows where he is headed, where he is needed and it definitely not the table here with the winners who gets the spoils.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto raised a hand to stop his friend from leaving and with fire in his even tempered eyes, taunting the ace, hand who seemed like he was losing his mind when things started lining up.

Bokuto and Akaashi rarely fought. The rarity of this occurring was such a low percentage that a majority of their friends and colleagues would have this on their bingo card for ‘top things forewarning the end of days.’ Even if they did argue, most of the time both would cool off and apologize.

“Not now Bokuto,” Akaashi’s voice is even tempered signifying his anger. He bows lowly to the rest of his friend’s team audibly apologizing for how his temper was lost. Then, as if nothing had happened, Akaashi straightens his posture, pulls the lapels of his coat, and he leaves through the side door. All the while Bokuto thinks he heard his heart begin to crumble.

“Let him go Kou,” the fiancé advised. “He knows where he’s headed…”

Meanwhile, you are home folding a few pieces of laundry to take into your carry on: the flat you lived in since your post-grad glory days is bare. The photo albums and the frames were already en route abroad to your new residence. A good portion of your wardrobe, bathroom, and kitchen items too. Bokuto didn’t need to know you were leaving in the middle of the night, your radio silence stretched on for a few weeks, but that’s life. Lately, you do make a habit of catching up with other people from your time at university and or the past scenes in Tokyo. Perhaps gone were the days of being in love with love… your subconscious will help you forgive the nine year old who taught you the sun revolves around the world.

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54 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

Candle

Pairing: university×kip!bokuto x reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Rating: BKF [bokuto kotaro fluff]// strangers->lovers

Warnings: mentions of academic stress// love at second glance(?)//

In an apartment not too far away from the city center, there sits a small package atop a table. It seems like the package had been abandoned earlier by the tenants hours ago, yet the thought is still there, a kindness lingering. On the surrounding walls, there were photographs indicating the milestones in the life of the tennant. Within one such photograph is one of a team from several years prior dressed in an ivory and noir uniform, bright smiles on everyone’s faces. The brightest one was that of the person in the middle, whose attention seemed to have been drawn beyond the lens of the camera. A little further toward the entrance of the abode, there is another frame sitting atop a bookshelf by the house phone. It is a university graduation photo and the graduate is seen holding a celebratory bouquet alongside two young women who share several features, like the family’s infectious grin, and the older couple standing to either side look at their grown children.

As time moves ever forward, so does the life of the tenant inhabiting the space. There are allusions of a lustrous career in the sport he is so passionate about. A calendar with written schedules outlining the practices and training regiments gearing up for the next away game. Surely, the apartment seems empty, however there have been several signs of friends and old colleagues stopping by– from parties, holiday celebrations, professional signings, and even dates. Like now, this apartment, this home, is where you find yourself leaving behind a bag with a boxed up cake several hours ago on a crisp autumn day.

Time plays into fate’s hands as one of your parents would say. The door is closed behind you, and you begin your walk to the restaurant not too far away. You’re on your way to a celebratory dinner for an old acquaintance.

“Well, he no longer is an acquaintance,” you murmur to yourself. A short lived chuckle escapes your lips.

Several years ago, in your youth, you found yourself walking past the gym of your high school. It was a few weeks before the beginning of the intramural matches for a majority of the sports clubs. You received a text from a classmate who was an avid fan of one such club asking you to join her in the small crowd gathering by the entrance of the gym. When asked what for, all you were told was your classmate wanted to show their support for the upcoming season.

“So you texted me to come here because the boys volleyball club is having their photo taken?” you playfully nudge your classmate.

“Mmhm,” she nods.

You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head, lightly scolding her to use her time more wisely. She replies with simple facts that you had missed, like how the second year setter is getting better at keeping the ball off the ground or how the middle blockers are becoming much stronger in groups of two or three depending on how the play dictates the next point. Unbeknownst to you, it seems that beyond the entrance, one member of the team seemed to have his eyes drawn toward where you were. It doesn’t take very long for other members of the team to notice how one of their star players began to become a bit distracted. Regardless, when their coach makes the decision to cut practice a little short so the photographers can take the necessary pictures. You’re still conversing with your classmate and her subsequent response makes you laugh and from the perspective of where a certain player was sitting, you were the most enchanting person he has yet to meet.

Then, there was that one time you noticed him years later at the cafe close to where your part time job was located. You couldn’t remember his name for the life of you, but you wish your former classmate was with you, however there was no time like the present, as the saying goes. In your mind, you were checking out the athlete, muscles hidden beneath the confines of a well-loved hoodie, paired with what seemed to be (not-so-recently) washed sweatpants, thus ticking off the signs of burnout in your head. You must have forgotten about finals week since your classes still have about two weeks before that internal stressful time. Thankfully, you were given the day off, and when the cashier takes your order, you choose to approach the table where he sat with an air of caution. You see his hands pulling at his hair, the open notes with highlighted words and workbooks with spines crinkled through showing how dedicated he was. He was probably one more practice problem away from reaching the breaking point, so you approach him with a friendly overtone.

“Excuse me,” your voice is a bit firmer than you would have liked, yet it does snap the college student out of his hyperfocus zone. “But I don’t think this goes here.”

“Huh?” he asks, baffled at the page and at the disembodied voice.

Taking up a pen from the plethora scattered between the workbook and his own notebook, you begin with practice problem number thirty-one. You explain as calmly as you can the process in which you arrive at the answer. You try not to pay too much attention to the way this stranger stares in wonder at you; were you an angel or another celestial being encapsulated with the gift of knowledge? Perhaps, when this lesson is over, the student and you will part ways only to circle back to meet each other.

The ambiance sounds in the cafe fade into the background only to be broken by the call of your name. You wrap up your lesson with a quick, dropping the pen atop the open page, “Good luck on your exams. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Uh, thanks. You too.”

You walk to pick up your order and when you turn around to wave, you’re appreciative of the way the student’s tense shoulders relax when he leans back into his chair. He reminds you of someone your old classmate might have been obsessed with in high school, but more importantly, he reminds you of yourself. Moreover, after he watches you leave the cafe, his eyes scan over the page and he laughs a bit at the text you left behind:

〖#31 (ENG3400|| ANALOGIES):

PALTRY : SIGNIFICANCE ::

A. redundant : discussion

B. austere : landscape

C. opulent : wealth

D. oblique : familiarity

E. banal : originality

Paltry is defined as small or meager; significance is defined as the quality of being worthy of attention.

Hence, the correct answer for this analogy problem is E since banal means to be lacking in originality as to be obvious or boring and originality is defined as being able to think independently and creatively in English.

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63 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

Love Me…?

Pairing: timeskip!oikawa x reader (yn-san)

Word count: 2.8K

Rating: OTF [[oikawa tooru fluff]] (no angst!)

Warnings: allusions to sex, not explicit nsfw// makeout scene?

Notes: what a fun time to write for Oiks.

Seven dates in the span of six months. Seven dates spanning three time zones outside of your hometown one; three of those dates were on approved leave in your home city; two of those dates were done via FaceTime; one was for Christmas; and the last one? The airport. Not necessarily in that order, but alas, here we are. Well, we, as in you and Oikawa Tooru—established two time Olympic medalist, three time world champion, and two time MVP of loving you. The first time was a practice run to get his fans in high school to turn down their fawning over him; the second one is still being worked on as you speak. He doesn’t tell you he’s at the airport waiting to board the next flight home, so you keep it brief, making a mention of the event the JVA is hosting a month from now.

You pick him up at the airport a little after three in the morning, stiffing a yawn while you’re standing at the arrivals gate. You’re wearing comfier clothing, ie just yoga pants, sneakers, and an old high school music club shirt. Curls that bounce with every step is soon seen grazing atop peoples heads.

“Mí amor!”

The nickname sticks for what seems to be years, yet you never tie listening to him call you that. Bicoastal love had always been easy with Oikawa, who the moment he spots you, runs to you—burying his face in your neck, he smiles at you when you cup his face and look directly in his eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper against his lips. “Welcome home.”

Throughout this off season break, you and your lover(?) spend time together: you visit his hometown, passing his old high school. You stop by the fence leading to the track, he points out the gym building not too far around the corner.

“Three years here and not once did I make it to nationals,” he smugly says.

You raise an eyebrow at him before tilting your head back to look at the building.

“But that was small time,” you tease. “You’re an international sports Olympian now.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “Damn right. And I have you, something an eighteen year old me didn’t know I needed.”

His arms wraps around your shoulders, guiding you to walk back a familiar path to an arcade he mentions he still has the hi-score in: “It was two against two, me and Iwa-chan versus Mattsun and Makki.”

“Oh?” you try to hide your smile while peeking inside at a particular cabinet game.

“Mmhm, but we won because the timer was running out on the Marvel vs Capcom 3 fight,” Oikawa says. He puffs his chest out when you say you think you could have easily defeated his ‘top-score,’ only for you to be dragged inside by him. He had a bold, competitive look in his eye: “Prove it princessa.”

“You’re on Oikawa Tooru!”

Three hours and after many tokens were spent, you’re sitting next to him at the combini window, facing the street. Your open box of meat buns and milk bread is laid out between you both. He’s got such a sour face on, it amuses you so. You lean your head against his arm, politely pushing a piece of the milk break up to his pursed, pouting lips.

“Grew up with five cousins who loved video games my ass,” he grumbles when he playfully nips the tips of your fingers.

“Oi!” you roll your eyes at his comment, but shake your head when he presses kisses against your open palm. You’re sure he’s completely smitten with you. Even the following night when you’re out with his old teammates and kouhai, they ask him a bunch of questions like, ‘how long have you two been a thing?’ and ‘yn-san’s cute.’ Oikawa hugs you closer to him while you take a swig of your pint of beer.

“Yn’s mine, get your own!” he blurts.

“So spoiled,” you murmur into your glass.

Iwazumi stands to the right of his best friend who chuckles at your statement.

“But it’s been the happiest we’ve seen him since he moved,” the friend shared a secret with you.

You hum a “me too,” back to iwazumi who just nods.

When the appetitzers hit the bar high top table, you take it upon yourself to share the karrage chicken and umeboshi bought. These five guys surrounding you and Oikawa Tooru realize you’re going to be around for a while with the way the newly naturalized Argentinian steals glances at you. His eyes are only ever for you, suffice to say those old girlfriends from high school never stood a chance. Later on, right before parting ways, you excuse yourself from the group allowing for the guys to grill their old friend and former captain.

“You’ve been seeing yn for how long?” Mattsun asks. His pint is almost empty as well.

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74 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

Maybe Once or Twice

Based on the prompt list I found earlier (I thought I saved it, but didn’t… ): )

Miya Atsumu x childhood friend!yn. Both are third years in Inarizaki & I believe it is canon that Atsumu becomes captain in his third year (if I am wrong,then let’s pretend that he earned captain when Kita and Aran graduate).

MAF (Miya Atsumu Fluff) for 17+

Word count: 1.1k

Fun fact, this .gif has nothing to do with this fic, but I think it’s cute, lol.

You were hanging upside down on your best friend’s bed one Saturday afternoon. There were school books scattered about along with university application pamphlets; the laundry hamper was empty (it typically wasn’t) and there were volleyballs in the corner of the opened closet. The autumnal weather in this part of Hyogo caused breezes to come into your friend’s bedroom. You were solving the last equation for your math homework while your friend skipped the next song in the loFi hip hop channel on the streaming service.

“Hey yn, can I ask ya something?”

“Sure thing, give me a second to finish this…” a few more scribbles later, you check over your answer and you were glad you were right. Closing the math textbook and your answer notes, you return your attention to your friend. His blonde hair slightly dancing in the breeze from the window as you chose to sit right side up a few moments ago.

“Now what were you going to ask me ‘Tsumu?”

Of all the times the current captain of Inarizaki’s Volleyball team would be considered nervous, this by far takes the number one spot. Does it help that his twin brother (along with Suna) kept teasing him about confessing how he truly feels about you? No, not really. All Atsumu knows is perhaps now he needed to be a little more courageous.

It happens during lunch roughy a week ago: the Miya twins and Suna sat among the rest of their fellow teammates and the subject of crushes came up. A few members of the team described their type, if they have one. Or rather, the guys at the table expand on what made their crushes attractive to them. Somehow your name got brought up, causing a few of their younger teammates to stare at their overly confident captain trip over his words. Atsumu spots you smiling and joking around with a few of your friends at your table. You turn around slightly and you two make eye contact for a brief moment, causing him to freeze for a moment before your friend calls your attention away. In those seconds, both of you share a silent ‘hello.’

“Don’t worry Miya-senpai, I’m sure yn-senpai likes you too,” one the second years says with a smile. You were on the other side of the courtyard holding a bag with pork dumplings and canned coffee; your friend from the neighboring class mentions how she’d see you later for the photography club.

“He just has to work up enough nerve to confess first,” Osamu says clasping his brother’s shoulder. Thus a plan brews among the team. It takes the rest of the school week for them to try trap you and their captain together and each time, all plans to confess go awry. Like on Wednesday you received a text from the club manager asking you to come to the gym because it seemed as though Atsumu hasn’t been setting properly. Yet by the time you arrive, the ‘setter block’ dissipated since Atsumu wanted to improve just to show off for you a little. He was supposed to confess when thanking you for stopping by; he couldn’t because he thought it would be the wrong time.

Then there was Thursday, you and Atsumu along with Osamu and Rin, share a science lab. Your normal teacher had a family emergency and there was a sub when you entered. You were always partners with Rin, but thanks to him finding the seating chart before class, you find Atsumu sitting next to you. He fills you in and you shake your head, mentioning he’ll be the one taking notes for the report. This time, he was supposed to slip a letter he wrote consisting of your name, the words ‘I like ya. Wanna go out Saturday night?’ into your bag, but you placed it on the opposite side of where he was seated (closer to you). After that failed attempt, Atsumu at home, decided perhaps telling you directly works best.

Hence the final option: inviting you over for the first time since primary school. Your parents along with the twin’s mother were old college friends, so when you were first introduced to the boys, you three were about to start the second grade. Regardless, as time goes on, children grow older and they discover feelings they never knew of. Honestly, the reason why you were in the Miyas bedroom with Atsumu was because Osamu ‘suddenly remembers he had to meet up with Suna for the literature project.’ When he leaves, Atsumu’s phone goes off and the blonde reads the message his brother sent saying, ‘thank me later.’ And now Atsumu is here, well, currently he’s sitting next to you, moving your books to the floor. You make room for him to sit cross legged on the bed across from you.

“Tsum? You ok? You’re usually not this quiet…” you bring a palm to his forehead and he thinks he’s about to lose his mind with the caring act.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he shakes his head, your hand lowers and stays in front of you. You’re steadying yourself leaning up to look him in his eyes that reflect the gold from the sunset.

“So, what were you going to ask me?”

Your old friend looks away from you for a few seconds just to inhale and exhale a deep breath. Just like he does on the court before one of his killers serves. As he returns his attention to you, you feel the tension in the air change from comforting to sort of awkward (like in the romance manga you read in your spare time).

“Have you thought about us kissing before?”

The question comes out all at once; it is rushed out of his lips, leaving you stunned. You lean back, straightening your posture, a blush tinging your ears lightly pink; Atsumu on the other hand runs his hands nervously through his hair more than twice. The silence is killing him, so as he is about to ask you to forget what he said, your answer surprises him:

“Maybe once or twice,” you say through a playful pout. Your voice is slightly above a whisper, but you’re sure he heard you since his hands stop fussing with his hair, reaching to hold yours.

“Really?” Atsumu’s voice is a little wobbly because of the increase in possibility of him kissing you when you both see the shiest smile on the other’s face.

“Since we were twelve,” you come clean, attaching a short lived chortle. You don’t forget the way Atsumu’s eyes widened at your confession because that was same age as when he won the mvp award for his middle school accolade for volleyball. You were incredibly proud of him (and Osamu too), honestly you thought of giving him a kiss as an extra bonus. As you explain your side of now confirming the feeling was mutual between the two of you, you notice your fingers becoming interlaced with his.

“So, what’s stopping you from kissing me now ‘Tsum?” You tilt your head to the side.

Miya Atsumu shakes his head as he leans in to close the distance between you two; his eyes glance between your eyes and lips before you feel his breath across your Cupid’s Bow.

“Nothin’,” is the last thing you hear before your eyes flutter close as you feel the smile on his lips when he kisses you. His lips feel surprisingly soft, softer than you originally thought; his hand moves to cup your cheek. You wrap your hand around hoses wrist to keep his hand there.

When the kiss breaks, he hears you hum in approval prior to raising your free hand to the collar of his shirt to pull him back in.

“Again,” your voice asks.

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85 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

(Innocent) Sleepover

Mattsukawa & YN have been neighbors since first year middle school. YN’s parents have been rumored to have shouting matches when they argue, thus causing their kid to come over for some much needed sleep. Over the years, Mattsun and yn have been growing close, so much so that Oikawa picks up on the subtle hints yn has the middle blocker wrapped around their finger…

Word Count: 1.5K-1.6K

Pairing: Mattsukawa Issei x Reader (yn)

Rating: hq fluff ft. Mattsun x reader

this got me thinking how mattsun kisses start out gentle at first, heh

You throw a pebble or four at the second highest window of your friend’s house. Parents were arguing over the water bill this time and though you could usually sleep through the yells, you texted your neighbor asking to sleepover. It’s been a few years since you had slept over, the last time was the summer in your third year of middle school during a shared family trip to Hyogo. Your mother wanted to visit an old friend of your grandmother, however that was about six summers ago. Regardless, the pebbles keep piling up until you see a familiar silhouette peek out over the railing.

“Stay there, I’ll open the sliding door by the herb garden,” is all you hear and you pick up your backpack off the grass to sling it over your shoulder.

The door slides open with a decisive ‘whoosh!’

“Is that yn-chan? Mattsun, let yn-chan in…”

The scolding of their grandson makes you bite back a chortle when he tells them he was going to invite you inside regardless.

Your neighbor meets you explaining his grandprents were in town for the upcoming volleyball game between Seijoh and a former powerhouse school. An amused smile curls your lips and in the fluorescent light above you both, if he wasn’t so unsure you would reciprocate his feelings, he might have greeted you with a forehead kiss. Ever since he hit just second growth spurt, Mattsukawa Issei stands taller than ever thus making your height the perfect one for him to rest his head atop when you do give him your normal ‘hello’-hug. He could tell you were having a rough night, especially when the shouting seemed to have been muffled from his window. The pebbles still littering the small space between his door and the short balcony. Said balcony was home to many late night talks with each other, slowly becoming a comfort spot during house parties and sleepovers with the guys.

While you take up his offer of holding your backpack, you wander off to greet his relatives. Sleeping over his place on a Friday right before game day was not what you had intended, yet when your father hears you leave, your mother questions where you’re headed both knowing full well you’d be found next door—there is a shared memory when you first moved here the summer before you start middle school, where you meet the neighbors (parents) of the lanky boy next door. You were and still are more expressive than he is, but your sarcastic wisecracks sprinkled with sharp cynical one liners added to more appeal to try to be your first friend. Mattsukawa was just glad you let him be near you, fast friends you became before volleyball took over his life. Sure, in the past you watched several games he had played in, but alas as time progresses, your presence at games slightly dwindled, much to the middle blocker’s dismay. Yet, you have a knack of showing up at the first and second game on a whim, therefore surprising him (and causing him to play his personal best from time to time).

Inside the kitchen, Mattsukawa overhears you talk with his relatives. The conversations stem past the “how do you do’s” to more pressing matters like if you’ve already had an eye on someone say about “yay high, slightly sun kissed skin, plays a particular sport, etc.” you play with your hands a little bit saying if that were the case, then you’d probably be on your way back from a date.

Mattsukawa freezes, letting your backpack fall onto his floor with a muddle thump. From what he can infer, you do like him? He reasons with himself he will ask you once you say your good nights to his grandparents. It’s not very often they visit Miyagi, though the old couple might be the best wing people ever.

The digital clock reads close to 22:38 when you walk into Mattsukawa’s room. You noticed he had pushed a few pillows in the middle thus making you shake your head. It was an awfully sweet gesture, you think, ever since you read the westernized legend of King Arthur and how he laid a modesty barrier between he and the lady Guenevere. Behind you, you feel his presence hovering and you say in a low voice, “race ya!”

Mattsukawa chuckles as he takes five long steps and wins the short race. You on the other hand, practically tackle him on the mattress when you trip over his own school bag, forcing him to hold you steady by your waist. Is that a blush…? Oh my god. It is! your eyes glance at his cheekbones and his ears. His hands are warm, calloused, but stern in the support he gives you. The closeness of where your hand landed on his chest made his ebony eyes study your curious stare. The moonlight reflects in them and for the first time in a long time (technically since his first high school girlfriend broke things off with him), he senses that familiar increase in his heart rate.

Luckily the shouting had since dialed down and with the door closed behind you both, Mattsukawa chose to be brave this time. He brings you closer to him and when he leans down, you expected him to kiss you directly on the mouth, but no—he instead kisses your forehead whispering something along the lines of, “Ask me and I will.”

In your arms, you catch whiffs of his body wash: he smells of pine and bonfires, fireflies, and the quiet storms by the mountain valley. Your hands move away from his chest to wrap around his neck, toying with the ends of his outgrown hair. Mattsukawa’s immediate instinct was if he were to kiss you for real, he’d need to sit up since he wouldn’t trust himself (or you) would stop—you’ve been side by side like a second shadow since the first time you were invited over via Oikawa’s need to know who caused his teammate to be clearly smitten. You have a slight panic in your eyes when he sits up, yet your fear turns into a muted look of recognition as you readjusted yourself to straddle him properly. Gazing from your eyes to your lips and back again, you realize you haven’t said anything yet. Gods above knew you wanted him to kiss you, for years, your brain reminds you, because somehow making sure you were ok after nights like tonight made you start seeing your neighbor under a different light.

“You needn’t ask,” you tell him in a hushed tone, taking a deep breath, and on the exhale you continue.“You’re the only one who doesn’t need to—mmf?!”

Lips pressed against yours faster than you could finish that statement, Mattsukawa doesn’t apologize for the electricity he passed to you, but considering your gasp of surprise your eyes fluttered close when you feel a familiar hand rests against your cheek; tender and chaste like a secret shared in your shared past. His hands stay behind you, before wandering higher to cradle the back of your head. Unnecessarily warm, is a common thought both of you have prior to one common word dance to the forefront of your mind—more, give me more.

You in turn kiss him back, which makes you feel him smile against your pursed lips. It isn’t a violent one, not one where either of you are rushed, however with the way he’s making you feel like your body is on fire causes you slower the pace; his hands stay by your side, almost grazing your skin sighing into your half opened mouth. Your hair is tousled by him, keeping strands away from where your lips are. There is meaning and purpose behind everywhere you allow his lips to reach: calm mind on your forehead, inside jokes when he reaches the corner of your mouth, but when you pause before you kiss him again, you realize you never seen him this flushed before. It’s a sight you selfishly take mental snapshots of—there is a desperate nature in the way he calls your name as he holds a wrist of yours gently against his sternum. Below, your palm feels the heightened ramifications you did.

There is an apologetic phrase on the tip of his tongue, yet you remove your other hand from behind his shoulder to press your fingertips against his ajar lips. You shake your head saying, “it’s ok.”

He presses his forehead against your own, his voice is low like a short rumble of thunder as he calls you, “pretty,” rubbing your shoulders. In the dark, you notice how handsome his features naturally are especially when there are notes of strawberry pinks tinting the sides of his neck. Needless to say, you were amused about this bashful side of his.

“C’mere,” your voice has a coy tone and like any good person, Mattsukawa does as he is told. When you kiss him this time, you purposefully miss before tracing his jaw with your lips; kissing and sucking the taut skin of his neck. He groans as he grips the ends of your shirt with one hand, the other pushes the back of your head further into the juncture between his collarbone and neck, forcing you to remain following through with this kindness.

You hover painfully steady above his lips before you close the gap together. Mattsukawa’s eyes swears they have never seen anyone this effortlessly hot; sure lavender hues and roses would bloom around your head, like a spring sprite, but for him, he’s glad he took a chance on kissing you—and vice versa. Little things you notice when you kiss him this time: he knows how to hold you, obeys when you open your mouth a smidge, breathes in time with you, calls you nicknames under his breath which makes you dizzy.

“Finally,” is the last confession you’re able to coherently hear when he works on leaving a love bite on your collarbone. You inhale and exhale, cooling the skin behind his jaw, tugging him closer until he leaves your exposed bone alone only to recapture your lips in a teasingly slow kiss.

He tastes the remnants of your dinner and lavender tea when you open your mouth a bit wider for him, you inhale through your nose and exhale into his mouth, filling his lungs with more air for him to continue kissing you like this. Losing yourself in his touch, you feel his fingers run along the small of your back. Mattsukawa makes you take a seat on his lap securing his hold on you. He doesn’t leave your lips alone until they are bruised from returning every ounce of affection he gives you—you nearly knock heads and he chuckles saying you’ll be the one to ground him with your logic. You shake your head when you peck his lips once more.

“Not so fast,” his voice halts your movements. His hands fix the bottom of the your sleeping shirt while you tilt his head this way and that, amused at your blossoming bruises there; in return, he does the same, chuckling at where your fingers press against his neck.

“Admiring your work?”

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130 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

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sardonicsergeant · 3 years ago

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God I have been.... not wanting to be alive lately, to the point where I started hitting myself again and like.... fuck man I was doing so much better and like.... My parents want me to call them the day after my brothers storage unit had an attempted break in and I just know it's going to be for money bc I tried to take my dad out to eat for his bday and like over the holidays they barely even tried to talk and its so fucked like I had to borrow 5 dollars for the ticket to see Jackass and like... damn idk what to do bc my mother got a restraining order against my brothers bc they were intervening in her abuse and she wouldn't just say she would stop hitting me so they could stop restraining her and not have to do it again and the cops were already called and just... I shoulda moved out when she was choking me but I knew she wouldn't kill me in front of 3 other people and she has a well known history of trying to kill my dad so I just stayed for months and tried to make sure nothing happened and now I can't even have my brother around to protect me if she's around and I don't even have anyone to talk to about all of this bc I've already overloaded my mentor from high school w trauma(typically right after it happens when I don't realize it's trauma) so like I don't know I don't know who could handle all the information it would take for informed advice and I just want to fucking.... move and never talk to anyone again.

#sardonic speeches #self harm tw #abuse tw #trauma dump tw #lmao i would put it under a read more but i dont even know how #prolly just shouldnt post it anyways... fuck it i already typed it and im just adding tws after #ask to tag ig #this is why i have a problem connecting to people #it was bad enough up until middle school when it was just... normal dad abusing teenage sons type deal but like #then they started being more independent and my parents got a gambling addiction so like...#i had this awesome time in middle school where my parents would like... rent out a skating rink for my bday party!!#and then just be.... gone for weeks where i'd only see them to take me to school(sometimes)(bc the bus stop was dark in the morning)#but i couldnt tell anyone about it bc my mom was on the pta and would do shit for the school and it would just seem like...#idk another white kid lying to get attention bc their parents were getting a divorce(that never actually happened)#but holy shit it got so much worse when i had to switch to online school and neither of my brothers were there anymore #and then i went to hs and things got marginally better but then like..... some serious shit happened and i couldnt even like #go outside without having a panic attack and no one really tried to help at all like i tried so many times and so hard and i just...#couldnt make it thru a whole day of school anymore. not even for my theater group which was.... what had gotten me thru most days before #and god it just got worse and everyone just watched and i remember i just wanted to see everyone b4 i moved #to another state and i wasnt sure if i would make it thru to adulthood and didnt know if i would be able to get out even if i did and just.#no one wanted to see me. like ily gale if you read these tags you were the only one who really tried besides ari #gotta love my last memory of actually seeing him involved me bawling in a shitty bowling ally bc none of my friends wanted to see me #and he had some random ass guy there and i just.... it was so fucking fucked man.#and let me be clear!! i barely made it out of that situation and if it wasnt for the sats and being able to tell my dad she was starving us #i might not have... or it would have ended up like my brother who didnt get a lifeline until he wound up in the hospital and #permanantly disabled bc of her shit #god and i just seem semi normal and slightly offputting to people but like #they just havent seen me absolutely loose control and start punching or scratching myself until i bleed #also if you read these dori im sorry for not involving you in my life more and letting you know what was going on...#like you already had enough and my parents would get so much worse when i spent time with you bc i enjoyed it

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acidic--citrus · 2 years ago

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EEEYEEEEHE EEHEHEE EHEEE THANKS SO MUCH FOR TAGGING ME AAAAGGGGGG hehe okay here we go. (seriously thanks for tagging me what a good thing to come back to tumblr to <333333) ill throw mine under a readmore so this long post doesnt get even longer :P lmao

1 - lessee....3 ships, huh? these days im very obviously into wxwood 🥺 beloved... as for the other two, these days, im very into sunny/basil from omori o(-( the game has an iron grip on my brain rn. its being squeezed like a stress ball. the two have made me cry so many many times!!!!!!! WTF./...and as for the third, probably some homestuck ship idk its constantly revolving

2 - first ship. god. hmm. oh dear god i think it might have been hinata and naruto, not from shippuden? but from like. Actual, Naruto like Just Naruto 8′) LMAOOO its okay though. i fortunately realize now that the superior ship is sasunaru ✌ i was so young back then wow crazie. i didnt even know gay people were real back then...‼

3 - LMAO MY LAST SONG GOD FUCK these questions r really #exposing the kind of person i am huh. not counting the song im listening to right now, it was luka luka ☆ night fever. yeah it was 4 am when i was listening to it. yeah i was going on a vocaloid nostalgia trip because of kasane teto’s synthv announcement (im still not OVER THAT)

4 - LAST MOVIE LMMMAOOOO ........... IT WAS THE LEGO BATMAN MOVIE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 yes i came for batjokes. yes i stayed for its stunning stunning animation like hello wtf.......????????? i wish i could go thru it frame by frame 4k HD so i could fully appreciate everything :[[[[[[ alas...... (and before That movie, it was both space odyssey movies!!!! it was a while ago though...i dont watch movies or any media tbh often nowadays)

5 - currently reading.....barring fanfic of course, i guess im currently on the books of the space odyssey series :] ive paused it for now but Oug i srsly gotta get back to it its just sitting on my desk wasting away. waiting for me to pick it back up again AUG

6 - currently watching, i guess TOH!!! my other friends’ve backed me up against a corner, bullying me and saying we’re gonna watch the finale altogether soon so theres that laksdjaklja (lowkey not prepared for the heartrending emotions that are surely to come)...as well as rottmnt!!! i finished the first episode courtesy of my other friend, he egged me into watching it and im so glad i did its so great. gotta get back into that soon too. ※EDIT I FINISHED WATCHING IT AND THAT WAS SO GREAT DANA AND CREW THANK YOU FOR DELIVERING SUCH AN AMAZING SHOW....SNEEFING AND SNORFING AOUUGUG

7 - currently eating............. ice 8′) PLEAAAASEEE

8 - craving. YOU GUESSED IT !!!!!! MORE ICE though i think ill get sour lemon jelly from downstairs soon after :]

9 - people to tag, eh ...... after thinking about it a lot, the people i wanna tag have already done this/been tagged by people up above SO !!! i guess whoever sees this and wants to do this can just do it :33c

9 people you would like to get to know better

tysm for the tag @alexmey-does-an-arts!

1. 3 ships; bowuigi, metadede, heavy/medic(I forget the name lol)

2. first ever ship; alphyne

3. last song; Ghost Cowboys by Louie Zong

4. last movie; Midsommar. That was…something

5. currently reading; Dante and Aristotle discover the secrets of the universe. Pretty fire

6. currently watching; JCS criminal psychology

7. currently consuming; nothing

8. currently craving; Iced Cream. About to go get it. I know there’s mind chip in my freezer (:

9 people to tag; @littlegreenwyvy, @garf-official, @d1nosaurpower, @tractor-inside-joke-fucker, @junkydoodlez, @seacrown, @neldu-nak, @darkcanid19, @stormyykat

#THIS WAS TONSA FUN TY FOR TAGGING ME <3333333333

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scandalsavagefanfic · 3 years ago

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Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is.

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative.

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency.

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him.

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine.

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

#Batman #red hood #batman: urban legends #nice art #shit story #or at least shit characterization #jason todd deserves better #this response got long and I didn't edit it #please forgive any errors #and/or unclear spots #spoilers

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wickedpact · 3 years ago

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Crim pls do a J/N fic rec post at some point in the future I trust you more than I trust myself looking rouge through AO3

im kinda eh abt the concept of fic recs myself just bc the whole 'Different Strokes For Different Folks' thing (idk how many times someone i liked in a fandom made a fic rec list and i ended up not liking anything they posted). plus i have weirdly specific tastes and i.. .. honestly havent read a ton of joenicky fic! (i have a FAT to-read list) but ive been asked this a couple times now so i will slap together a couple joenicky fics i like (not comprehensive, i only spent like 15 minutes making this. also not in any particular order.)

Kiss Each Other Clean by moodlighting

i like this whole fic, but the last 6 or so paragraphs in particular SEND ME TO SPACE, i love cuddling. also [joe voice] nickel neekee

what you seek is seeking you by bankrobbery

i actually recced this one once before. idk its cute i just Like It. (also nicky pretending not to know english bc a customer is pissing him off is Very Funny and i love it)

with every inch of my heart by smilebackwards

i like this one a lot, i think nickys pov should Always be this tender. i dont like miscommunication trope much, (esp with joenicky) but i do like this fic-- the miscommunication in question is far-fetched but its joenicky so of course it is. just enjoy the Angst™

i love michelangelo seeing nicky all dirty and bloody after a fight and being like 'DAMN this bitch is fine' (same). (AND the fact that nicky only agrees to travel with him in the name of wasting the pope's money lmao). the fact that joe and nicky broke up But They Still Snuggle. nile knowing like 2 things about joe and nicky's breakup & pretty much immediately taking nicky's side. joe looking at the creation of adam and bein like 'EH'.

nicky carrying around his little joe drawing? nicky carrying around a spare toothbrush for booker? nicky telling little children stories about a princess locked in a coffin under the sea? ('perhaps someday, if an iron coffin is caught in a net or washed up onto the shore, they’ll remember the princess, a victim and not a monster' EXCUSE ME)

(also 'I have drawn you a thousand times since we parted. I sculpted your likeness, just so that I could pretend to cup your cheek. You are so much warmer than marble, hayati.' R O M A N C E)

Pas Un Ange by inlovewithnight

there are a lot of fics i love in a way thats like 'this fic is fun but it doesnt feel like something that would happen in the Actual Canon' (which is fine!) but this one Does feel like it could happen in The Actual Canon which is cool

this fic also has probably my favorite depiction of nicky's relationship with god/religion in any fic ive read ('[nicky's] peace had come only after walking away from faith as a competition of intensity in favor of faith as a steady compass that he followed like the beat of his heart in his chest.'). i love the whole Drama played out by the background characters and how they all have their own ideas and motivations & nicky is just kind of resigned to being caught in the middle of it.

(also love how near the beginning joe's like 'the Right thing to do in the situation would be stay at this river and help these people.... ... ....... ... .... ... anyways see ya guys later gotta go find nicky'.)

also joe chatting up a pig and the five minutes later chatting up some goats was so cute. & nicky trying to tell the baby's mother how to save it!!!! </3 AND THEY ARGUE ABOUT CHARITY on the way home (not before joe injects a comment abt nickys ass into regular conversation bc Romance™) its a bit of a sad fic tho, that poor baby 🥺

Intercession by PrincessDesire

can i interest you in some Swamp Man Nicky in this trying time?

someone recced this fic to me and i dont remember who. but note that the major character death tag is not, in fact, for a major character but for a background one. neither joe or nicky perma!die in this. also normally i dont like fics where joe or nicky are bi bc Thats Not Canon Babey but i do like this one, i love joe's relationship with Grace and how nicky's perception of that relationship gets flipped on its head halfway thru the fic. i also love joe's Weariness Of Immortality, like when joe talks about how 'youthful' nicky makes him feel. his pov just kind of Feels like an old man and i like it

theres a smut scene in this fic which im personally not big on smut scenes but theres this bit where joe tries to figure out condoms and its very cute. also 'You have many kinds of magic, Nicky. All your spells have worked.' ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

also i just like how WHIPPED joe is from like the first 3 seconds he sees nicky. theres one bit where nicky's like 'ill come visit you!' and joe's like 'when🥺' and nicky's like 'as soon as you like!' and joes like 'now?????🥺🥺🥺 literally come home with me???' incredible.

also the Magic System was cool. i also love how nicky just Accidentally made himself immortal. what a man. also i like this line 'it would never occur to [nicky] to attend any service that wasn’t going to have a direct outcome. Grace takes comfort from it, so maybe that’s the only outcome needed.' idk its so sweet

edit: also i cant believe i forgot the iconic line 'Yusuf is a man of two minds, one large and underutilized, the other small and underutilized.' absolutely iconic & relatable

#Anonymous

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yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween. What he loves more than that? You.

pairing. gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded. it’s just that fluffy. (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings. established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower.

wc. 9.7k

beta reader(s). the lovely @kerikaaria read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy. tysm! 💛 i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly. oops...

author note. this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves. while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside. i hope you enjoy it!

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened. You remember, faintly, the mention of a party. Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc. He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought. If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway. Win-win or whatever.

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge. Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean.

“Zarya’s one! Zarya’s one—“ You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen. You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too. There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch. “Zarya’s actually one!”

No one cares. She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map.

“Jesus—“ Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue. You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.

I need healing! I need healing!

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way. Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though. There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point. Stupid. You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support.

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked. So infuriating and yet— nope. Just infuriating.

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise. Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise. He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face. You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru. He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team. A silver lining, you suppose.

Your second round starts well enough. Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta. Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana. You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn. Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost. (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado. The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong. Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter.

“You winning?”

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction. You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.

(It’s not your own fault. He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!” You want to be more mad. Really, you do. You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long. Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn.

“What?” Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime.

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves. All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder. You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days. You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery.

It’s a little distracting; he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual. You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck. Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see; it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over. You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication. (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.)

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so. You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words).

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet.

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya? She has grav.” Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon. Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock. If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game.

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void. Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces. Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next. Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,” says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head. He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match. It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.

“Rip is right,” you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map. If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms. Jungkook chuckles at that.

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well. There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested. Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”

You don’t turn your head. Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you. Sometimes, you love it; other times, you hate it. Most times, though, he’s right. He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame).

“Can we go top left?” You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main. Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team. Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited. “You should be back right by the stairs. You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point. Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav. She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you. As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen.

“Told you,” he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore.

“I was going to say thank you.” Just not right now. You can’t multitask quite like he can.

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display. “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock. Thank freaking god. You can win this, you think. Easy. No problem.

“Go Ana on defense.” At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth. You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin.

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time. He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat.

“Do you just want to play?” You don’t mean it seriously. You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you. It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship.

“Nah, I’m snacking.” He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon.

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions. He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do. He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do. He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t.

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair. You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears.

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game. There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back.

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie. “We won,” you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug.

“Of course you did.” He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you. He’d been a great coach.

“What’re you doing here?” It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest. He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair. (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines. You don’t care.)

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.” You remember, because you’d been disappointed. Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,” he states, like he’s talking to a moron. You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen. Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena. It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it.

“Yeah, we,” Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker. “Halloween party, baby. Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises: (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party? You didn’t think idols had those. Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no. Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.” It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach. It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day.

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face. It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way. Why’s he looking at you like that? Why’s your memory so bad? Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions?

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance. It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage. A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns.

“I— don’t remember that.” You’re lying through your damn teeth. Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass.

“But you did!” He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal. It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me! You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate.

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here. It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia. “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular. You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish.

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs. (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs. You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.) It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing. The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames. Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them; Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.

“I don’t think I can pull this off,” you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious. (You were, once. Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.)

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places. Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest. You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it. (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention. Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you. You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp. A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue. “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance. It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I don’t have to say anything,” he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten. It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot. It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart. “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then. He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened. He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom. How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure. All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up; yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug. You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson. They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay— that was scary. I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.” A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees. It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?” You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there. He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms; he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh. His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised; Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer. (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.” Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end. It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature. You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee. Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact. A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious. You look—” You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose. A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon. “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it. Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders. You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself. All part of his plan, you suppose. “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.

“Okay! Sorry!” Except he doesn’t look very sorry. More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you. You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie. You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment. (Not that you really mind.)

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip. It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting. Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks. It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love.

Today, it comes after the fourth count.

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.” Well, of course you will. As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas. It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams.

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times. “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins. It’s unfairly adorable. Still, you push. Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you. From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted.

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot. You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum. A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to. You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you; rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.” By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful. The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday.

It turns out to be the opposite: one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend. He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger. You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another. For tonight, they’re one and the same.

“Joker? Seriously?” You can’t hide the delight. It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction. Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask. “Don’t sound so excited.” It’s an actual concern of his. He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more. He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting.

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky. You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises. It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently. You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared; you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.” You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes. It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes. It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling. Bastard. “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker. You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter. He’s dressed this way because you like the character.

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much more to say. Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it.

“Yeah,” he parrots back, a little smug.

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life. He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set. You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better. (You suppose he is.)

“Angel, come here!” He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side. Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love. There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball. You don’t mind. You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.

“I’m winning,” he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh. Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst. Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.” You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element. He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some. It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is). “How many games have you won?” Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.” God, his ego. You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best. Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck. He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you. To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.

“Can we play?” Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks. You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs. Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend. (How fitting.) “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch. “No, you’re just bad at games!” He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes. Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink. In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus. (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?) You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily. Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.” And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond. He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life.

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”

“Ahhhhhh, stop!” It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own. Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads. “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!” You know it isn’t true. Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines). But together? It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.

You absolutely loved it.

“Sure, sure,” the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot. One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins. A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour. You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one. Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour. “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.

“Drink this!”

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?” You’re incredulous. Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl. It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless. Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!” The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too. “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy? It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?).

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it. Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body. “Don’t die!” He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”

“No, you’re fine.” He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up. You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement. “Your face, oh— Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane. You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together. It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor. Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms. You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?” It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies. He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Just hanging out,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft. A modern day olive branch. “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close. Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like. It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like. Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away. You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness. “You sound drunk, angel,” he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek. It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin. It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves. “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,” comes Jimin from beside you. There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment. It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him. He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation. When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case. “Want to head home?”

You do. You really, really do.

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are. Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—” There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet. “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway. “Sorry,” you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused. It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.” He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh. Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away. “Here, let me.”

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time. (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,” you tease, clinging to him like a koala. You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven. “Or are you the court jester? That’s what Joker is, right?” It’s a joke and a bad one at that. Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.

“You’re drunk.” He says it more kindly than you expect. Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve. You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded. There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare. It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought. You have to tell him. Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it. “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down. As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands. (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.) “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?” You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon. You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.” It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that. You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style. You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression. “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does. You pout, as you so often do.

“Okay,” you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder. You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings. “Will you wash my hair?” You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.” Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck. When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips. You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat. Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.” As if that’s meant to stop you. He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention. He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,” you mumble into the expanse of his chest. He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable. You think you could live in the feeling of his arms. (You’re lucky you get to.) You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most. “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation. You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless. It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.

He’d explained it to you once. Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first. Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t. JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm. Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that. You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.” You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon. You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure. “Gotta get undressed to shower,” he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises? It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care. Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow. You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep. He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle. His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck. You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight. You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits. There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.” The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“We are, angel,” Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back. It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame. “Just need to get you warmed up first.”

“The shower’ll be warm,” you say - or think you say, anyway. It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off. Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat. “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.” Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern. You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise. “I never want you to stop.”

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair. He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “I love you,” he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment. He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off. You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders. You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.

“Start the shower.”

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that. You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away. The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,” he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream. He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip. You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does. You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside. It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you. You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.

“Hair?” You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder. It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.

“Patience, baby.” It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess. He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue. (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—” The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand. Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it. It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips. A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit. The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump. Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair. “Patience,” he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist. He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue.

“Kook,” you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess. There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest. A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.

“Relax for me.” You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more. You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish. (You wish you could see him.)

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him. (It was.) He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense. Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures. With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,” comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care. Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls. He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard. Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot; it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.

“K-Kook.” It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.

“I’ve got you.” And he does - hook, line, and sinker. He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave. It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go. He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn. See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service. Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him. You should recognise the look on his face. “Kook?”

“My turn.” It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward. There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you. It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in. “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely. (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed. In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine. It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat. His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear. It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure. “Oh fuck,” he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.

“Always so good for me.” Another thing he says, often and without prompting. It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet. “Always so perfect for me.”

“Because I love you,” you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.

“Love you too, angel.” He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway. He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted. He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart. Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust. An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision; it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard. He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high. You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings.

“Kook,” you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower. The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm. You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing. It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.

“P-please, Kook. Please.” You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his. He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation. “Come for me, Kook. Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars. Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you. It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs. You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.

“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.

“I love you,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours. “But I still need you to wash my hair.” It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days. “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.” Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements. He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery. Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.

“I thought I was an angel.” You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks. Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline. Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice. “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”

You can’t argue with that.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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