#i have so many thoughts about this in my little brain

[secondjulia]

Hi, that lab is my brain & despite a complete lack of funding I've already spent way too long on this research (aka getting lost in the Thoughts.)

Ao3 is a beautiful relic of Old Internet(1), by which I mean it is a somewhat isolated refuge and also that the focus is on the stuff rather than on the people — which isn't to say there isn't community on Ao3 and that your experience can't be shaped (positively or negatively) by who you follow/follows you; and that's also not to say that Old Internet didn't have Personalities, you know what I mean, the Big Forum People who had to chime in on every fucking post (and the count under their avatar read like 20,000 which was A Lot back in the day) and would get into flame wars with Other Big Forum People and you had to have, like, a Side.

But it was not like This Internet where it is all about followers and following and Personality, which is sometimes called authenticity, but— [stop: unhelpful tangent] —and people have to be able to Find You (i.e. you have to be everywhere, not just, like, the little herb gardening sub-forum of the larger gardening forum that still only has like 20,000 users, i.e. only the 20,000 people in the world who really, really like gardening have found their way there.)

Anyway, Ao3 is the quiet little harbor you can just kind of be no one and post your work and — because the default sorting is date posted and because of their super specific/adaptable tagging system — people can still see it. (And also you as a reader can find the super specific random obscure thing you're looking for even if you don't know if anyone is writing it yet.) You can have 0 followers, post in the micro-est micro fandom and someone can sill find your work. I have posted in fandoms that literally did not exist on A03 before because I felt like writing something for it, and lo and behold people found it because Ao3 is built around the work not the people. I've also been the person reading fics in fandoms with works in the single digits. They were not hard to find because, again, Ao3 is built so you can find Tiny Random Niche Stuff very easily.

You can do stuff like that on New Internet/Social Media, too, of course, because you can do wtf you want. But because it is built more around personalities than material — and fucking algorithms — I personally find it is much harder both as a creator and fan.

Tumblr is the bridge between the isolated little harbors of Old Internet and the more connected New Internet. It has many aspects of modern social media with news feeds and potentially more of a personality-focused imprint if you want to use it like that. But it can also be used chronologically (people like to say Tumblr is non-algorithmic, but that isn't really true; it's just that you can have more control of/turn off those features and use it like Ye Old Chronological Newsfeeds) and anonymity is more the norm here than elsewhere (source: absolutely anecdotal. I know people use other stuff anonymously, too & some people use real names on tumblr. But it was still a massive culture shift to go from the norm of SuperNicheInterestUserNames to OhWe'reUsingOurRealNamesOnTheInternetNow(2)?!) So it retains some of the comfort and utility of the old ways while letting you make more connections without drowning in the sea of how we're doing things now.

I don't actually think one way of doing things is overall better because Old Internet had a lot of problems and New Internet definitely has its uses.

But I do think a halfway place like Tumblr is specifically helpful for the people who have found refuge in a removed, niche space like Ao3 and who maybe don't want to deal with the hyperconnected/public mess of the current internet.

(I think it's also interesting that Ao3 & Tumblr appeal to both young people who never knew the Old Internet as well as to us olds who used to live there, but that is another tangent.)

___

Notes:

(1) despite not being that old. It's like Ao3 is RP-ing 1999 but taking it Extremely Seriously. They are the person who puts designs on the inside of Theoden's armor or wears accurate undergarments to the Renn Faire because these things are important.

(2) I personally came to the horrifying realization of We're Using Our Real Names Now in the early 2000s when I showed up to Skype job interviews with my standard OldEnglishFairyName handle and realized everyone else was just RealName. Awkward and devastating. RIP old ways.

the symbiotic relationship between tumblr and AO3 should be studied in a lab

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

no doubt! Jake would 100% ask “would you love me if I was a worm?” and be absolutely devastated if the answer was no and it would be so cute but also kind of silly

OH 100%%%%%%%!!!! omg this is an official invitation for ppl to send me requests for no doubt!jake & nodoubt!yn because i am LIVING for these slices of life with them <333 I LOVE UR BRAIN HOLD ON LET ME JUST─

──── WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF... ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

It's movie night.

Neither of you are watching the movie.

You're about five seconds away from passing out, limbs half-numb from the deadweight of your clingy boyfriend currently sprawled right on top of you on your tiny couch.

The clingy boyfriend in question?

Jake's head is smushed against your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist like a stubborn koala, and your legs are tangled together under your oversized blanket—the one that makes your body temperature one too many degrees too warm, especially with your furnance of your boyfriend on top of you.

Your eyes flutter close, dangerously close to slipping into sleep, fingers absentmindedly running through Jake's messy hair as the faint sound of the movie hums in the background, when—

"Baby."

"Mm."

"Are you awake?"

You hum again in response, barely cracking an eye open to only find Jake already staring up at you with that soft, sleepy, and endearingly adorable look on his face that makes you want to smush his cheeks and maybe chew on them a little. Just a nibble.

Then—

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Your eyes open all the way now.

You blink.

You glance down.

And Jake is staring at you. Wide, hopeful, glassy eyes. Totally serious.

“…Like. A literal worm?”

Jake nods briskly, and you realize he's. Not. Joking.

You take a long breath, looking back up at the ceiling, considering it for a solid business second.

You look back at him.

“No.”

Jake freezes.

You'd think you told him Santa's make-believe and so is love.

“WHAT?!”

"Jake...I mean, c'mon, logistically?" You say with a shrug. "You'd be a worm. I'd be a person. There's a lot of biological and ethical hurdles here."

Jake shoots up and off of you so fast that the blanket flies off of the couch.

"And here I am thinking you loved me," he whispers, scooting to the opposite end of the couch and retrieving the blanket from the ground to wrap around himself like a sad, soggy burrito.

You roll your eyes at your oh-so-dramatic boyfriend, "I do love you, you big loser."

"Well, apparently not enough!" His eyes are wide, his arms flailing around as if to make a point. "Not enough to love worm-me!"

You reach over and tug his arm to pull him back in—to no avail. He and his stubbornness stay planted, pouting in the seat opposite of you.

"Oh my god, Jake."

"No, no—it's fine," he mumbles, flopping back with an exaggerated sigh, extending his legs out on the couch. "I'll just go crawl into the dirt. Alone. Like the lowly earth creature I am meant to be."

You giggle, shuffling closer, crawling your way over to him until you're hovering above, nose inches away from his pout.

"You're not a worm, Jakey."

"Not yet. But if I ever am? Don't talk to me."

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, "Okay. What if I was a worm?"

Jake's eyes immediately go wide, as if he's been waiting for you to ask his question. His hands instinctively find your waist as you settle on top of him.

"I'd love you so hard. I'd build you a terrarium. Feed you the richest, organic dirt. Carry you around in a little jar in my hoodie and tell you you're beautiful every single day."

You look at your boyfriend like he's insane.

And you think he actually might be.

"Why do I feel like you've genuinely thought about this before?"

Jake shrugs, “I have plans, Y/N. No matter the universe, no matter the life form, I have plans."

You burst out into a laughter so hard you nearly fall off of him, and he catches you mid-collapse with a satisfied grin and strong arms, tucking you into the crook of his neck.

"Whatever. Even if you don't love worm-me—" he murmurs into your hair as his arms pull you flush against him, "—I'll still love you. In this life and in worm life."

You snort right into his hoodie, "You're so weird."

“And loyal,” he adds proudly. “Like a worm.”

And you don’t even try to correct him.

no doubt m. list

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[mintyys-blog]

HEADCANONS | dc characters

IMAGINE THIS: you’ve just bought lingerie for the first time, feeling bold and sexy—only for your man to get so eager he accidentally rips it in the heat of the moment. You’re not thrilled, especially since it cost a small fortune.

warnings ; sexual themes, swearing

💋 dc masterlist

Kindly respect my work. No reposts, translations, or rewrites — AI-generated or not — without my consent. © @mintyys-blog

YOUNG JUSTICE

BART ALLEN

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, trying not to squirm. The lingerie is…barely there. Silky, soft, and strappy in a way that makes you feel like a work of art. It’s the first set you’ve ever bought, and it was not cheap—one of those online boutiques with names you can’t pronounce and checkout pages that hurt your soul. But it was worth it. You feel sexy. Confident. Nervous. And then the world blurs, the air shifts, and suddenly— “Babe I brought nachos!” Bart barrels into the room, holding a takeout bag in one hand and a smoothie in the other. He’s halfway through a sentence when he looks up— And everything. Stops.

The bag almost slips from his fingers. He stares at you like he’s never seen you before. “…I—uh—hi,” he croaks. You raise an eyebrow, pretending to be unaffected. “Welcome home.” He’s in front of you in a blink, dropping the food somewhere behind him (you hear a splat and pray it wasn’t the guac). “You—oh my God, you look—you’re trying to kill me. That’s what this is. Murder by sexy.”

You laugh nervously, tugging at the hem of the sheer fabric. “I just thought I’d surprise you…” He cups your face like you’re fragile glass. “I think I’m in love. Again. Every time I blink.” You lean in to kiss him, and he practically vibrates in place—hands skimming your waist, your thighs, your back— Then he fumbles with a clasp, tugs too hard and— RIIIP. You both freeze. “…Tell me that wasn’t—” You glance down. The strap is done. You look back up. “BART.”

“I didn’t mean to! My hands just—my brain short-circuited and my fingers were like, ‘GO!’ and I couldn’t stop them!”

“That bra cost me seventy-five dollars!” His eyes go wide. “Seventy—That’s so many burritos!” You narrow your gaze. “Not helping.”

“I’ll buy you ten more. No—twenty. And they’ll all be delivered by someone not me, because I’m clearly a liability.”

You cross your arms. “You ruined my moment.” He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your chest with a dramatic sigh. “I ruined my moment, too.” You roll your eyes. “…You still owe me nachos.”

“They’re probably warm from the speed friction.”

“…If the guac exploded, you’re dead.”

WALLY WEST

The glow from the TV flickers across Wally’s face, his tongue poking out slightly in pure concentration as he mashes buttons on the controller. He’s on his headset, talking trash to someone online—probably Roy. “Bro, I literally ran circles around you—get good,” he brags, leaning forward like that’ll make him faster.

You’re standing in the doorway, draped in deep red lace and matching silk. The set took you a full hour to choose and about 90 seconds of panic before you finally put it on. You’d planned this—waited for the perfect moment.

And this? This is it. You lean against the doorframe and clear your throat. “Wally.” He grunts distractedly, still playing. “Yeah, babe—two secs. I’m almost—HA! HEADSHOT!—okay what’s—”

He turns around mid-sentence—and promptly dies in-game. And in real life? He might as well have. The controller hits the floor. His headset dangles off one ear. His jaw? Gone. Completely unhinged.

“Oh. My. God.” He blinks rapidly like he’s buffering. “Are you—are you trying to give me a heart attack?” You smile sweetly, doing a little turn. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise me? This is like a full-on emotional ambush. That—wait, is that new? Is this lingerie?” You nod. “Bought it today.”

“You bought that?! You paid actual money?!” He’s already on his feet—controller forgotten, game beeping in the background.

He rushes to you, hands running reverently over your sides, your waist— And then? You feel it. A yank. A snap. Then: RRRRIIIP. You freeze. He freezes. You look down at the torn bra strap dangling pathetically. “…Wally.” His soul visibly leaves his body. “Oh no.”

“That was an eighty-five dollar bra.”

He holds up his hands like he’s negotiating a hostage situation. “Okay, okay, don’t panic—wait, I’m panicking. Because you looked like a gift from heaven and I just tore open the packaging like a rabid dog—” You glare. “I’ll buy you another one!” he rushes out. “Two! Ten! I’ll run to France and get one from some fancy boutique with a name I can’t pronounce!”

“You’re not getting off that easy.”

“I’m not trying to get off at all anymore, apparently.”

You pause. Then smack his arm. “Don’t make jokes.”

“…Too soon?” You sigh, already turning away. “You’re lucky I love you.” He’s behind you in a flash—literally. “You’re right. And I’ll prove it. With overnight shipping, a heartfelt apology, and a foot rub.”

“…And?” you say over your shoulder. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “And I’ll let you kill me in Mario Kart tonight. No blue shells.” You glance back. “…Deal.”

JAMIE REYES

You’re sitting on the bed, heart pounding, dressed in the delicate lingerie you just bought—feeling bold and a little nervous. Jamie steps into the room, eyes instantly drawn to you like you’re the only thing in the world.

“Wow,” he breathes, stepping closer. His hand finds your waist, pulling you in. Your lips meet in a soft, lingering kiss that quickly deepens—his hands moving carefully, but with growing urgency. He reaches behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra, fingers fumbling as you both get lost in the moment. You can feel the warmth spreading, his breath hitching against your skin.

Suddenly, a subtle hum buzzes from Jamie’s arm. The scarab is waking up, sensing his rapid movement. Before he can finish, the scarab whirs to life, its alien energy surging from his back, it’s ‘arms’ stepping in. With a mechanical snap, the fabric gives way— SNAP! The bra strap tears clean off, falling loosely against your skin.

Jamie freezes, eyes wide and apologetic. “Uh… that wasn’t me.” You blink at the torn lace in disbelief. “The scarab just ripped off my seventy-five dollar bra.” Jamie grins sheepishly. “Yeah, it kinda stepped in to help… for ‘optimal speed.’ Guess it thought you needed to get undressed faster.” You can’t help laughing despite yourself. “Your scarab has terrible timing.”

“I’m sorry! But hey, we still got the kiss, right?” He leans down and captures your lips again, slower this time. You wrap your arms around his neck. “Yeah… we got that.”

And maybe next time, you’ll let him handle the lingerie… before the scarab decides to “help” again.

ROY HARPER

You hear the heavy clunk of Roy’s boots outside your bedroom and take one last glance in the mirror. The red lace hugs your body perfectly, delicate straps framing your curves. It’s bold, a little scandalous—and it cost you a small fortune. But the way Roy’s been teasing you all week? Yeah, this is payback.

“Babe?” he calls, clearly not expecting anything out of the ordinary. You settle yourself on the bed, back arched just right, pretending not to care as the door swings open. Roy stops cold. The cocky grin drops off his face and is immediately replaced with slack-jawed awe.

“Holy sh—” He rubs his face like he’s making sure he’s not dreaming. “Okay, what’s the catch? Are you real? Is this a prank? Am I being filmed?” You smirk. “Surprise.”

He’s across the room in two strides, boots forgotten, jacket hitting the floor without a thought. “I—I didn’t think you could get hotter, and now you’re just showing off.” You reach for him, hands in his hair as he kisses you hard, hungry. His fingers are already sliding over your sides, tugging you closer, warm and rough and needy.

Then he’s fumbling with the bra, frustrated, muttering against your lips, “Why do these things have, like, advanced security measures—who invented this clasp—” You start to laugh—right before he gives it one solid pull and— RRRRIP. You freeze. He freezes.

“Roy,” you say in a low, dangerous voice, pulling back. “Tell me you didn’t just—” He holds up the torn strap like a guilty puppy. “I—I panicked! I was overwhelmed! You looked too good! My brain shut down, I acted on instinct—”

“That was eighty-nine dollars, Roy.”

“Eighty-nine?! For that tiny thing?! Babe, you could’ve gotten a grappling hook for that price!” You shove his shoulder. “I was going for sexy, not tactical.”

He looks at the scrap of lace in his hand, then back at you, clearly trying not to laugh—or cry. “Okay, okay, my bad. I’ll fix this. I’ll sew it—wait, no, I’ll buy you another. Like, five. In every color. Hell, I’ll wear one if it makes you feel better.” You raise an eyebrow. “You in matching red lace?”bHe gives you that classic crooked grin. “Babe, I’d rock it.”

“…You better. Or you’re paying for lingerie and dinner.” He kisses your neck, voice low and teasing. “Anything you want, gorgeous. Just… maybe keep the next set away from my hands. At least until I earn them.”

BAT BOYS 🦇

TIM DRAKE

The soft lighting of the bedroom glowed against your skin, casting shadows over the delicate black lace that hugged your body. You’d been nervous picking it out—this was your first time wearing lingerie for him. For anyone. But the look in Tim’s eyes when he walked in? Worth it. His mouth parted slightly. His eyes scanned your form like he couldn’t believe it. “You look…” He cleared his throat, stepping toward you. “You look incredible.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. “Took me forever to pick this out. But I figured you’d appreciate it.” “Oh, I do,” he said, kissing you slowly. “I really, really do.”

Things escalated quickly—your lips moving together, his hands running down your back, across the thin straps. He kissed down your neck, breathing heavy. And then— RIP. You gasped. Your bra dropped to the floor in a tangle of lace. You stepped back, blinking in stunned silence.

Tim was still riding the high, panting a little, eyes dark. “I thought you’d like that. You said it was hot in that book you were reading, remember? The guy ripped everything off the girl in that scene—you said it was intense.”

You stared at him, heart sinking. “Tim. That was fiction. That was a fantasy—in a book. I didn’t say I wanted you to actually rip my stuff in real life. Especially not this.”

He paused, realization slowly dawning in his face. “Wait. Was that… was this expensive?” You stepped back, arms crossed over your chest. “That bra alone was ninety dollars. I saved up for it. I’ve never worn anything like this before, and you ripped it—”

“Shit.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I thought I was doing something romantic. Like… spontaneous. I didn’t mean to ruin it. I just—I thought you’d think it was hot.”

You looked at the shredded lace in his hand. “Tim! It’s only hot in fantasy! If I had a millions of dollars to spend, sure I wouldn’t mind, but I’m not rich!” Silence settled between you. Then—softly—Tim exhaled. “You’re right. I messed up. I got caught up in trying to be… I don’t know. Sexy? And I didn’t think it through.”

You watched him for a moment. You could tell he was genuine—mortified, even. And that was the thing with Tim: he didn’t screw up often. But when he did, it ate at him. He looked up at you, eyes sincere. “I’ll replace it. I’ll go with you next time. I won’t assume again. You deserve better than some dumb book move.”

You sighed. “…You really thought you were giving me the ‘chapter seventeen treatment,’ huh?” A weak smile tugged at his mouth. “I did. Minus the… you know. Consent. And budget awareness.” You shook your head and stepped toward him. “You’ve got a lot to learn about lingerie, Drake.” He reached for your hand. “So teach me. Just… maybe not tonight. I think I’m banned from lace until further notice.” You smirked. “Correct.”

JASON TODD

You stand just inside the doorway, heart pounding as Jason walks in, leather jacket thrown carelessly over his shoulder. The soft, black lace you’re wearing feels like it’s daring him—like a challenge. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes darkening. “Damn,” he mutters, voice low.

Before you can say anything, he’s across the room, hands on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips find yours, rough and demanding.

When he reaches behind you to undo your bra, you see a flicker of hesitation. His fingers fumble awkwardly over the tiny hooks—he’s trying to be gentle, you know he is.

But Jason’s hands aren’t made for delicate work. With a frustrated grunt, he tugs too hard— SNAP!

The tiny metal hook breaks off in his fingers. The bra strap slips and hangs uselessly. You pull back, eyes narrowing. “Jason.” He looks down at the broken hook, cheeks flushing. “Shit. Sorry.” His rough hands close into fists. “I didn’t mean to—”

You sigh, a small smile breaking through. “I know. But this thing was expensive. Like, way more than I wanted to spend.” Jason reaches out and brushes a stray hair from your face. “I’ll buy you a new one. Maybe something tougher. Or I’ll just stay away from the clasps.”

You chuckle, leaning into his touch. “Next time, just leave the tricky bits to me.” He grins, eyes sparkling. “Deal. But you owe me a rematch in bed.” You bite your lip. “You’re on.”

DICK GRAYSON

You barely make it past the front door before Dick’s lips are on yours, hands gripping your hips like he’s been waiting for this all night—which, to be fair, he probably has. His jacket hits the floor. You tug his shirt over his head. You’re both breathless, laughing in between kisses that are quickly turning desperate.

You let him guide you to the bed, still wearing the silky little lingerie set you spent way too much money on—something just barely modest, lacy and black, and cut high on the hips.

He groans when he sees it.

“Holy hell. You wore this for me?” he whispers, voice low and reverent.

You smirk. “Who else would I wear it for?”

That does something to him. His mouth crashes against yours again, his hands roaming lower—gripping your thighs, stroking up, teasing. And then—

RIP.

You blink.

“…Did you just—?”

Dick pulls back, still panting, holding the torn panties in one hand like a goddamn trophy. “Sorry. I got excited. They were in the way.”

You sit up, staring at him. “Dick. Those cost me fifty-two dollars.”

He pauses, looks at the fabric in his hand, then back at you. “That little piece of fabric was fifty-two dollars?”

“Yes! They were French. Imported. Do you know how much scrolling I had to do for those? They weren’t supposed to last ten minutes!”

He winces. “Okay, that’s on me. I got carried away. But—” he crawls toward you with that stupid, beautiful grin “—you were literally melting into the mattress. I didn’t think we had time for subtlety.”

You raise a brow. “You could’ve just taken them off like a normal person.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he murmurs, kissing your neck again.

You sigh dramatically, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “You owe me new ones. And I’m picking them out.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Fair. But I reserve the right to tear them off if they’re that hot again.” You narrow your eyes. “You’re buying two pairs.”

OTHER DC CHARACTERS

JOHN CONSTANTINE

John’s sitting in the dark like always—shirt wrinkled, tie loosened, cigarette burning low, and the faint smell of cheap whiskey clinging to the air. Classic Constantine.

You step into the room quietly, letting the light from the hallway hit the lace you’re wearing—sheer, black, strappy. Sexy without being obvious. Expensive without looking like it. Imported. Hand-wash only. You hadn’t planned on dropping that much money on one outfit… but something about John just made you reckless.

His gaze lifts from the rim of his glass—and immediately locks on you.

“Well, fuck me sideways,” he mutters, cigarette falling from his lips and into the ashtray. “You plannin’ to kill me, love?”

You smirk, stepping closer. “Depends. Are you gonna play nice?”

“Not bloody likely.”

He’s on his feet before you can blink, whiskey forgotten, hands on your waist, mouth claiming yours in that familiar, hungry way. You moan into the kiss, fingers fisting in his shirt as he walks you backward toward the couch.

His hands skim under the lace, rough palms sliding over expensive fabric. “You’re gonna drive me straight to Hell lookin’ like this,” he mutters, voice gravelly, accent thick. “Bet that bra’s got a bloody name. Probably cost more than me rent.”

You hum, teasing. “So maybe don’t destroy it, yeah?”

“Right,” he whispers against your throat. “Be gentle. Got it.”

Except he’s not. Because of course he’s not.

You feel the tension in his hands—fingers fumbling with the back clasp—and then, in one sudden, impulsive tug:

RRRRIP.

You freeze. “John.”

“…Bugger.”

You step back, looking down at the torn lace in horror. “John. That bra cost me a hundred and twenty dollars.”

He blinks. “You what now?”

“One. Twenty. Dollars.” You hold up the mangled remains. “Do you know how many enchantments I had to reverse to even buy it without bad luck sticking to me?”

He has the nerve to look sheepish. “In me defense, you were makin’ all sorts of sounds. Thought the bra was negotiable.”

“It was not.”

He raises his hands in surrender, grin tugging at his lips. “Alright, alright, love. I buggered it up. I’ll make it up to you. Take you shopping meself. Hell, I’ll even charm the register clerk into givin’ you a discount.”

You cross your arms. “With actual magic or with your ridiculous accent?”

He winks. “Bit of both, maybe.” You narrow your eyes, but the corners of your mouth are twitching. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Oh, I’m more than lucky, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you in again. “But if I buy you a new one… does that mean I get to take that one off, too?” You sigh, dramatic. “Without ripping it.”

“No promises,” he murmurs, already pressing kisses along your jaw.

HAL JORDAN

You’re lounging on the bed when you hear the front door open—keys hitting the counter, boots thunking onto the floor, and then a low whistle from the hallway.

“Well damn,” Hal’s voice cuts in, cocky and smooth as ever. “That for me, sweetheart?”

You stretch just a little, letting the soft, sheer fabric hug your curves just right. “Who else would it be for?”

He leans against the doorframe, grinning like he just got handed his birthday and Christmas present in one go. “God, you’re gonna kill me in that thing.”

You smile, cheeks warming under his gaze. “Then don’t just stand there.”

In a flash, he’s at the edge of the bed, crawling up over you with that signature pilot confidence. His mouth crashes into yours, hands skimming over your waist, then up—fingertips teasing the edges of your brand-new, ridiculously expensive bra.

“Jesus,” he murmurs. “You look insane in this. Soft, delicate… unreal.”

“Mm-hmm,” you breathe. “So maybe be gentle with it?”

He gives you a cocky smirk, reaching for the clasp behind you. “C’mon, babe. I know what I’m doing—”

SNAP.

You feel it before you even see it—the unmistakable tear of lace and the ping of metal. You sit up fast, eyes wide. “What the hell was that?”

Hal pulls back, a tiny, destroyed hook clasp hanging between his fingers. “Uh… that may have been the bra.”

You stare. “Hal. That bra was ninety dollars.”

He blinks. “Wait. Ninety? For that little thing? I could make one with my ring in three seconds—”

“Do not,” you cut him off, holding up the mangled strap like a corpse. “I picked this out, I was excited, I wanted this to be nice. Not a green-construct emergency wardrobe situation.”

“…Okay, fair.” He lifts his hands, giving you a sheepish grin. “I got too eager. That’s on me. But I’ll replace it. Hell, I’ll take you shopping. I’ll sit through every fitting room session and give serious feedback.” You narrow your eyes. “No dumb comments?”

“Only tasteful ones,” he promises, leaning in with that mischievous glint. “Though if you want me to rip the next one off too, we can make it, like, a planned thing.”

You huff—but you’re smiling. “You’re lucky you’re hot.” “Damn right I am,” he murmurs, mouth finding yours again. “Now let me make it up to you. No bra required.”

KON EL KENT

You waited until he got comfortable—shirt half unbuttoned, lounging on your bed, completely unsuspecting.

Then you stepped out of the bathroom wearing the set you definitely splurged on: delicate, deep red lace, a strappy bra that practically sculpted you, and matching panties with tiny gold accents. You’d barely moved and he was already staring.

“Whoa,” Kon breathed. His whole body stiffened. “You look… Holy crap. Babe.”

You leaned against the doorway, giving him a little spin. “You like it?”

“Like it?” He sat up so fast the bed creaked. “You look—insane. Unreal. Like, heart actually stopping.”

You giggled and walked over slowly, one knee on the mattress as you crawled toward him. “I bought it for you.”

“Oh my god.” He grabbed your hips like he was holding treasure. “Okay. I love you. Officially. Completely. Forever.”

You laughed and leaned in to kiss him—long, heated, needy. His hands slid up your back, down your thighs, everywhere at once. He was usually careful, always hyper-aware of how strong he was, but tonight?

He forgot.

You felt the tug before you heard it. A snap, then a louder RRRIP. You blinked. “Wait—”

Kon looked down just as the center strap of your bra broke in two, the delicate lace falling like paper.

“Oh no,” he whispered, holding up the ruined piece. “That was—was that expensive?”

You stared at him.

And then came the second mistake.

He slid his hands down your hips, groaned, and tugged the panties off in one smooth, superpowered motion.

Rip.

Both sides.

“Kon!”

He froze, both pieces of the ruined panties dangling from his fingers. “…Okay, okay, I did not mean to do that one.”

You stared at him in wide-eyed horror. “That whole set cost me almost two hundred dollars!”

His eyes widened. “You spent two hundred— oh, babe. I’m so sorry. I just—your body does something to my brain, I swear. My powers—my instincts—my everything just short-circuits.”

You groaned, flopping onto your back dramatically. “That was supposed to be a sexy night. Now I’m naked and furious.”

Kon leaned over you sheepishly, brushing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll buy you a new one. Multiple. A full drawer. Hell, I’ll go to Earth’s fanciest store and ask the poor saleslady what looks best on my supermodel girlfriend.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You better. And you don’t get to touch them until I say so.” He winced, but nodded. “Punishment accepted.” Then he paused. “…Can I still cuddle you while you’re mad and naked?” You gave a long sigh. “…Fine. But I’m still filing an emotional damage report.”

EOBARD THAWNE

You don’t even hear him arrive—one second you’re standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate lace and satin straps, the next… he’s behind you. A red and yellow blur, a smirk against your neck, and hands already slipping over your hips. “What’s this?” he murmurs against your ear. “Trying to tempt me, sweetheart?”

You smile, slow and smug. “Didn’t think you needed much tempting.”

Eobard laughs, low and hungry. “You’re not wrong.”

He spins you around and kisses you hard, hands gripping your thighs before you can even protest. You’re off the ground in a second—legs wrapped around his waist, back pressed to the nearest surface, his mouth on your neck, then your chest, then lower.

But when he tugs at the bra—rip.

And when his fingers hook into your panties—rip.

You gasp. “Eobard! That set cost me a hundred and sixty dollars—”

He groans, irritated, already pressing his hips against yours as he slides between your legs. “I’ll buy you another damn pair. Just shut up and let me enjoy this.”

You glare. “It was imported.”

He nips at your jaw. “So are half the enemies I murder. Does it look like I care?”

You pout, crossing your arms even though he’s pinning you in place. “I liked that set. It had embroidery.”

He finally pauses long enough to meet your eyes—his gaze dark, electric, and unrepentantly hungry. “I’m going to ruin whatever you wear anyway,” he murmurs, brushing his lips just over yours. “You should know that by now.”

Your pout softens, just a little. “You’re an asshole.”

“Mm.” He grins. “And you’re still kissing me.”

You do.

Because no matter how fast or reckless he is—when he looks at you like this, when he touches you like you’re the only constant in his broken perception of time—you always kiss him back. (But you will send him a very expensive link to that lingerie set tomorrow. He’ll grumble, then buy five.)

[hannie-berrie]

MORE BAKU SMUT i loved ur last one i read it like a million times ngl

OMG IM SO HAPPY WOWOW 😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💖💖💖💖🫶🫶🫶🫶 So many people asked me for a part 2, so let’s get into it!

Warnings: unprotected sex

wc: 2.8K

Meet and Greet

Click here for part 1 (Courtside confessions)

18+ MINORS DNI

Hoomin, or Baku, as his friends insisted on calling him, stood at the entrance of your cozy apartment, sneakers spotless and hair suspiciously tidy. A smile tugged at his lips, but there was a stiffness to his posture that gave away the butterflies in his stomach.

You opened the door to your nervous and shaky boyfriend, and smiled softly.

"She's already here" you said, leading him inside. "Try not to flirt with my mom."

He scoffed, clearly flustered. "Please. I can’t help being a charm to mothers." He adjusted his shirt.

In the living room, your mother stood up from the floor cushion, warm but observant. Hoomin bowed deeply, his voice dropping into polite reverence.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am. I'm Hoomin. Thank you for having me."

Your mother analyzed him from head to toe. He was tall and confident, but there was a subtle shake in his tone, on the outside, he seemed much better than your previous boyfriends. You settled onto the floor around the low table, filled with steaming bowls of rice, kimchi, and bubbling jjigae, Hoomin practically salivating from the smell. He’s a foodie, but he couldn’t show that in front of his new step mother.

It was going well. He laughed at your mother's jokes, listened with genuine interest when she talked about growing up in Busan, and never once interrupted. He even took the second-to-last piece of bulgogi, a sign he had manners, but not the kind that made your mom think he was too shy to eat.

"So" your mother asked with a sly look, "how did you two meet?"

Before Hoomin could respond, a grind grew on your face and you answered, "He asks every girl if they’re lost on campus then collects their phone numbers, I got tricked too”

He coughed mid-chew, and his ears turned red “What? No! Nonono! That’s not what happened!” Hoomin hurriedly shook his hands at your mother to avoid misunderstanding.

You grinned, lips pressed against your spoon to hide your laugh. He leaned over and hit your knee slightly, telling you to quit embarrassing him.

Your mother noticed the interaction and hid her own smile behind her tea cup. There was something gentle about the boy.

He was practically made of charm and swagger, the typical popular college boy, but he was watching you like you were the only person in the room. His body angled toward yours unconsciously, his hand pushing the soup bowl closer to make sure it didn't tip and spills on you. And when you laughed, he seemed to light up a little.

After dinner, when Hoomin helped carry dishes to the sink without being asked, your mother leaned closer and whispered.

"He's got a big head, but a good heart. You chose well."

Night life was awakening and neon signs flickered to life. Hoomin and you walked side by side, hands brushing occasionally but not quite lacing fingers yet. It was that kind of night, a small breeze and good energy.

"Do you think your mom likes me?" Hoomin asked "you’re still thinking about that?"

Hoomin tucked his hands into his jacket’s pockets.

"She laughed at my jokes." He affirmed, proud of himself.

"She was laughing at you, not with you."

Hoomin stopped mid-step, one hand over his chest in mock betrayal. "Wow. Still bickering me. You wound me."

"You'll live" you said, smiling as you kept walking.

He jogged a step to catch up, slipping two fingers through the belt loop of your jeans just briefly, and his stupid jokes came back, they always do when he gets comfortable.

"If your mom likes me so much, she might want to adopt me, would that make us... siblings?!”

He looked at you with fake surprise on his face. “What the fuck min’ ” you laughed, his brain worked a little weird at times.

You looked up at him with that soft, thoughtful gaze that always made him feel like you were reading past his jokes, into something quieter. It settled him in a weird way. Made his usual energy take a breath.

You ended up at a little food stall on a corner, the kind with steamed buns and tteok skewers sizzling on a grill. Hoomin ordered for both of them, tossing in a hot drink you didn't ask for but he knew you liked. He paid with the kind of casualness that made it clear it wasn't about showing off. Just from habit.

You sat on a short stone ledge near the Han River, the soft sound of water running in the distance, the golden lights of the bridge glowing on the surface.

Hoomin was quiet and watching you like you were the only thing he couldn't joke his way out of.

Finally, you leaned your shoulder against his, and he let out a soft breath. He rested his chin briefly against the top of your head.

There was a rare feeling of calm in between the two of you, no bickering, no teasing, just quiet and something steady. There was this simple truth between you, you just liked being next to each other.

And in the middle of a busy city that never stopped moving, that quiet feeling was everything.

You were walking again, Hoomin's paper cup long empty, your fingers now wrapped around the sleeve of his hoodie instead of your drink.

The streets had quieted some, the crowds thinning as the night grew deeper.

Hoomin was telling a dramatic story, probably (most likely) exaggerated, about a teammate wiping out during practice, using wild hand gestures and sound effects. You laughed, trying to muffle it behind your hand, but he caught it and shot you a triumphant grin.

"Don't try to act like I'm not hilarious."

"You are hilarious" you said dryly. "In a very secondhand embarrassment sort of way."

"Tssst." He hissed. “Uncalled for.” He nudged your shoulder gently.

You grinned, face tilted toward the sky like you were catching a breeze.

You turned onto his block, the building ahead dark except for a warm light glowing from a window two floors up. Hoomin looked at you, the smile still on his lips but softer now, more tired around the edges.

He stopped just outside the entrance, letting the quiet settle around you.

"This is my house" he said, voice lower.

You didn't move. Your hand was still holding the edge of his hoodie sleeve, your fingers curled a little tighter.

"I know”

He glanced down, eyes tracing the line of your profile, the way your mouth pressed together like you were considering something too big to say.

You were still for a long moment.

Then you looked up, really looked, and he held your gaze. The teasing was gone now. It was just you, standing in the hush of night, the whole city stepping back to give a beat of stillness.

His voice, when it came, was soft. "You wanna come up? Just for a little."

You nodded once. "Okay."

Inside, the place didn't look at all like you expected.

Minimalist. Clean lines. Mostly neutrals. It wasn't sterile, just... simple. A few papers, probably his dad’s, layed around the dinning table. Hoomin’s basketball shoes sat tucked under a small bench by the door. It was almost quiet in a way she wasn't used to associating with him.

"I don’t know why I expected a bunch of your stuff laying around, did you clean knowing I’d come and visit?”

He looked sheepish, kicking off his shoes. "You thought I would be messy didn’t you? Too much stuff stresses me out."

You stepped further in, turning in a slow circle.

"It's kind of... peaceful."

You looked at him, as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching you.

"You're not that chaotic” you said.

"No?"

"No" you murmured, stepping closer to the kitchen window. "Just... loud."

That pulled a small laugh from him.

"I should go soon.." she said, but your voice was too soft to mean it.

He didn't answer right away. Just looked at you staring through the window, with something close to wonder.

"You can stay a little longer" he said.

The city lights spilled in through the window, painting you in soft gold and electric blue. Hoomin hadn't turned on any lights. It felt like a choice, like he didn't want to break whatever this quiet thing between you was becoming.

His jaw was tense like he was trying to say something but didn't trust the words not to ruin it.

You looked back at him

Hoomin pushed himself off the counter, slow and steady, walking towards you without a word. His cocky grin was gone. There was nothing playful in his eyes now, only focus. Only you.

When he reached you, he didn't say a thing. You could finally see his gaze, the eyes he was giving you. They were so tender, so loving, like he had been admiring you like a painting.

He lifted his hand to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing just under you eye, slow and warm.

You tilted into the touch, barely breathing.

And then he kissed you.

It was slow, and warm like he'd been waiting for the right moment and knew exactly when to take it. His lips pressed to yours just because it felt right. You breath hitched as you hands found his waist, gripping the bottom of his hoodie like you needed something to hold on to.

He deepened the kiss gradually, bringing you closer into his arms with each breath, One hand stayed at your cheek, the other drifting down to rest lightly at your hip, grounding you.

When you finally pulled apart, just barely, your lips still brushing, you opened your eyes to find him already looking at you, dark gaze softer now, but hungry.

Hoomin couldn’t speak a word, like the kiss had shut him up. You could catch the glow in his eyes with the little bit of light coming in from outside.

This time, your fingers slipped beneath the edge of his hoodie, skimming warm skin, and he sucked in a quiet breath against your mouth.

It wasn't about rushing anything, it was about being wrapped in the heat of the moment, your shared space almost breaking with the kind of tension that lingered on skin.

The kiss slowed again, but didn't lose its weight.

Your voice was barely audible, "I don't want to leave yet."

"Your mother will worry if I don’t bring you back home soon" his thumb stroke the curve of your lips. "But you can stay just a little more"

This time you leaned into a kiss first, no more words were spoken. It was just so softness of his hands brushing through your hair, tugging them aside.

You knew he wouldn’t initiate anything more, as much as he wanted to, there wasn’t much more time you could spend together before you’d need to go.

Your fingers lingered under his hoodie and shirt, finding their way down to his crotch, drawing circles.

He broke the kiss, almost panting, like your touch alone could get him to lose his breath.

“Shit don’t do that if you keep going I might lose it” his eyes were intense, like he was ready to take all of you the next second.

“You don’t have to hold back with me” your lips brushed his in a gentle but suggestive manner.

Hoomin hungrily kissed you again, wrapping an arm around your waist, leading you against the wall behind you. His desperate lips slid to your neck, letting out small noises as he sucked lightly the warm skin.

You instinctively raised your head up, giving him more space to kiss you all over. His kisses were breathy but full of promises. Promises to care for you before you have to go.

He fingers interlocked with yours as he let go of your neck. Still without a word, he guided you toward the living room. He threw this shirt somewhere on the carpet and layed you down princess-style on the couch and hovered you.

His eyes were glistening, watching your puffy lips from kissing, then looking down at your half covered chest. His lips pressed against each other, he felt like he shouldn’t look but fuck did he want to.

Hoomin pinned both of your hands up your head and slid your shirt off himself. And left kisses lower and lower till he reached the outline of your pants.

He could feel your body squirming under him and he looked up as you were already watching him.

His eyes furrowed, peace was fun but the hot feeling in between his legs was taking over slowly. He unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down just enough to see your pretty laced underwear set, wrapping you so well he thought he could lose it anytime soon.

He bit his lips and rested his forehead down against your pelvis like he needed a moment so he doesn’t go insane.

When his head lifted, his thumb brushed over your bud through your panties, getting small whines from you.

Maybe Hoomin was already fucked out, or maybe it was the late hour, but his mind was inevitably in the clouds.

His circles quickened and you couldn’t help your back arching, your leg kicking a little as he was drawing on your most sensitive spot.

“Fuck I’m so close Hmin’, so close-“

He smiled through his dizziness, eager to see your body tremble under his touch.

And with one last arch your mind went blank, the feeling of him wrapped your body into numbness. Time felt uncountable, seconds felt slower when it was just the both you alone, like this.

Hoomin tosses his pants away as he checked up on you. Half your face against the cushion under you, as your vision went back.

Seeing how Hoomin was also only in his underwear now, you let your hand slide on his thigh over you, his head rolled back like gravity had dropped from your touch alone.

“Urgh” his moans couldn’t be muffled, he was so loud you worried people could hear him outside.

“Babe.. don’t tease —fuck” his mouth dropped open when your hand slipped under his boxers, taking out his length and pumping him a few times. Stopping your boyfriend mid-breath.

His lips pressed against each other in a desperate attempt not to lose it. He hovered you, your chests nearly touching.

Watching you with a fond look, like there was only you in his world, he kissed you one more time and his length found its way in you.

His movements were slow but burning with affection. He kept his body above you with one hand and let his other glide your curves like he was unwrapping you like a present.

He detached your bra, taking it off smoothly through the more passionate make out he was giving you.

When you move your hips rhythmically his lips drops into an “o” and his eyes flutter with pure pleasure.

“You feel so good, I missed you” he says with a honey tone that you swear could melt you away.

The better he felt the more he’d praise you. His thrusts got quicker, a little harsher and deeper like his only goal to be buried in the furthers corners of you.

His lips slid down to your chest, nibbling on your nips with his tongue, sometimes slightly bitting to get a whine out of you.

And a knot in your stomach formed.

You didn’t have time to anticipate it, it grew and washed over you within seconds, your back arching upwards, bodies so close. Your head naturally threw back as you felt the heat in your core run through your body.

When your back comes back down, you could see Hoomin’s cornered smile, proud he had given you what you deserve. And his hips buckled into you, shaky.

He pulled out, not wanting to cum into you raw, gentle took hold of your hand and finished himself off, releasing over your wrist wrapped around him.

His moans were loud and clear, they had you close your legs together, almost shy. One thing’s clear, Hoomin wants you to know how good you make him feel and won’t hold back.

He dropped himself onto you, head on your chest again, feeling your heartbeat, your heat colliding together.

You gave yourselves a moment to catch your breath and he helped you up and cleaned you both.

“I hope your mom still think I’m a good man after this” Hoomin laughed

“She said you got a good heart.. and a big head”

[gojoscumrag]

ღ just a cumrag - part 2

warnings: absolute filth, public sex, degradation, obsession, exhibitionism, use of cursed energy, dumbification, cockdrunk reader, creampie, multiple loads, overstimulation, use-and-go, possession kink, ruined reader

Gojo didn’t knock. He just appeared, cursed energy buzzing sharp through the air, and grabbed you by the hair. With your hair in his fist he dragged you into the nearest empty classroom. Your knees hit the floor before you could speak.

“Open that mouth, baby,” Gojo said, already tugging his cock free. “It’s been two hours. You must be starving.”

You moaned around him before your brain caught up, cheeks bulging as he shoved his cock in deep. Unbothered by your gagging. He loved when your makeup smeared. When your eyes watered and your throat clenched around him like it missed him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. “My dirty little cumrag. Just a hole I can fuck anytime I want.”

And he did. Hallways, classrooms, alleyways behind mission sites. He’d bend you over a desk with your panties stuffed in your mouth, slam into you while you sobbed and begged for mercy you never got. This time? He yanked you up, flipped you around and bent you over the teacher’s desk.

No prep or lube, only spit and raw need.

He shoved in like he owned you. And god, he did. He’d branded you with his cock so many times your body opened for him automatically. You moaned, brain slipping out of reach as he fucked you hard and filthy. Cursed energy buzzed against your skin, heightening everything. Each thrust slammed into your g-spot like a curse technique, pleasure too intense and sharp. You were drooling and barely conscious at this point. All you could think about was Gojo and his cock stretching you wide.

He grabbed your throat, leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Gonna stuff you full again,” he said molten. “Already leaked out the last two loads. Can’t waste a single drop.”

Your pussy fluttered like it wanted to be used.

“Tell me what you are.”

You gasped, “Y-Your cumrag.”

“Louder.”

“I’m your cumrag!” You sobbed loudly.

“Attagirl.”

He slammed in deep. Hips jerking as he filled you again with hot, thick, endless mess. Your cry mixed to his deep groan. You were pushed to the brink, the stretch and pressure too much, too perfect. His cum dripped down your thighs the second he pulled out, but he didn’t let it fall far.

No. He shoved two fingers in, pushed it back up. He groaned again at the sight of your messy cunt swallowing his spend like it was made for it. Then he snapped a photo with his phone.

“For later,” he said casually, tucking himself back in. “When I’m jerking off between missions.”

You collapsed onto the desk, dazed, used and aching. And then the door creaked open. Gojo didn’t flinch, only looked over his sunglasses and smirked. “She’s mine,” he said, like it explained everything. “And she likes being ruined.”

Ino shouldn’t have walked in. He knew that.

But he had and now he couldn’t get it out of his head. The way your back arched, the way Gojo held your throat and the obscene slick sounds echoing in the classroom like it was something out of a porn. You’d been wrecked and dripping. You didn’t even flinch when Gojo snapped a picture of his cum leaking out of you. You looked proud of it.

So yeah. Ino had… ideas.

The next day, when Gojo left for a mission and you were in the hallway alone, bent over your phone reading a text—Ino saw an opening.

“Hey,” he said all flirty. “Didn’t expect you to be so down for a quick fuck like that.”

You blinked. “What?”

“C’mon,” he chuckled, stepping closer. “I’m not Gojo, but I can make you feel good. You were so hot yesterday. Bet you’re always wet like that, huh?”

His hand brushed your hip, fingers sliding dangerously close to your ass. Not rough, but too familiar.

You stepped back and whispered, “Don’t touch me.”

He raised his hands like it was a joke. “Relax. I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” you snapped, walking away before your heart gave out. But it stayed with you.

It clung to you. The way Ino looked at you, like you were free-use. Like being Gojo’s cumrag meant you were anyone’s. You didn’t tell Gojo. You couldn’t. What if he agreed? What if the thought of sharing you with others turned him on? What if he got bored of you? What if you ruined it?

So you stayed quiet. And days later, when Gojo slipped behind you in the hall, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest like he always did—you flinched. You flinched like it wasn’t him and instantly Gojo froze.

“…Hey,” he said seriously. “What was that?”

You shook your head too fast. “Nothing. You just surprised me—”

“You don’t get surprised,” he said, stepping in front of you now to scan your face. “You always know when it’s me. You melt when it’s me.”

You looked away. “I’m just tired.”

But Gojo didn’t buy it, not for a second. His fingers brushed your jaw, trying to be gentle. “Did someone touch you?”

Your silence was louder than any answer.

“Who?”

Your lips trembled. “It wasn’t like that—he just—he saw us and thought I was… easy.”

Gojo’s pupils narrowed. His cursed energy spiked so fast the air went sharp and cold. “Who.”

You whispered, “Ino.”

Gojo was gone before you could stop him.

He found Ino behind the training yard. All casual, sipping vending machine coffee like he hadn’t crossed a line so deep he was practically buried in Gojo’s kill list.

“Hey, Gojo,” Ino called, half a smirk on his lips.

Gojo didn’t speak or smile. He just kept walking until the air around them cracked, cursed energy rolling off his body in thick, oppressive waves that made the ground vibrate.

Ino tensed. “Whoa, what’s going on—”

Gojo was in front of him before he could finish the sentence, hand clamped tight around his throat. He slammed him against the wall hard enough to rattle the siding.

“You touched her?” Gojo said, deadly soft.

Ino choked. “What—”

“You touched what’s mine?” Gojo leaned in, sunglasses pushed up just enough for Ino to see his eyes glowing with fury. “You looked at her like she was a fucking free-use toy after watching me stuff her full and then you put your hands on her?”

“Gojo, fuck… okay, back up—”

“I don’t back up.” Gojo squeezed harder, cursed energy lashing out like invisible knives, cutting the air. “Do you know what I do to curses that breathe in my direction?”

Ino gasped, face reddening. Gojo leaned closer, voice dropping into something cold and hollow. “You think she’s just some slut I use? That she’s available to anyone just because I fuck her in the hallway?”

His smile was too wide now. “That’s your mistake. She isn’t some hole I use. She’s mine. She’s sacred. She’s the only thing keeping me from turning this place into ash.”

Gojo dropped him and Ino hit the ground hard, coughing and clutching his throat. Gojo stood over him, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes blazing behind his glasses.

“You don’t touch her. You don’t look at her. You don’t even think about her unless you want your name scraped off a stone.” He crouched beside him, head tilted like a wolf circling a wounded animal. “Next time I even feel you near her, I’ll peel the skin off your face before you know you’re dead.”

He stood, dusted off his pants and walked away. No one dared stopping him, because they felt what he was. What she meant to him. Satoru Gojo wasn’t in love, he was possessed.

In the meantime you were sitting on your bed, legs curled up. You tried to focus on the silence when the door opened and Gojo stepped in. No usual teasing grin adored his features. It was a quiet, raw energy that filled the room. And he was already stripping.

Glasses came off first, followed by his jacket. His shirt. His belt. Pants. Boxers. Everything peeled away like he couldn’t stand a single inch between you. You sat frozen, heart pounding.

“Satoru…?”

He didn’t speak, not until he was completely naked. And then he crossed the room and sank to his knees in front of you, forehead pressed to your stomach like he was praying.

“I should’ve protected you,” he murmured. “He touched what’s mine.”

Your fingers slipped into his hair. “You scared me earlier…”

“I know.” He looked up, blue eyes bare and burning. “I’ll never let you flinch again. I swear it.”

He kissed you slowly, like your lips were something holy. And when he guided you back onto the bed it wasn’t rushed or rough. It was complete, because this time Gojo needed all of you. He crawled over you and started stripping you naked until you were skin on skin. No clothing, no barrier, just feverish heat and want. Your legs parted and he lined himself up.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered. “Let me all the way in. I need to feel every inch.”

You did and when he pushed inside, it was differet. It was deeper and slower, a stretch that felt like he was carving his name into you. Your nails raked down his back as he rolled his hips, grinding into you like he wanted to fuse you together. To leave nothing untouched.

“You’re not just mine,” he groaned. “You’re me. My reason. My peace. My fucking obsession.”

You whimpered as his thrusts grew desperate, needy. Like his soul was clawing its way into yours through every inch of skin. His hands were everywhere—your hips, your face, your throat, your thighs—holding you down, holding you close.

“I saw red,” he panted. “When he said he touched you, I lost my fucking mind. You don’t know what I’d do to someone who thinks they can take you.”

“Satoru—”

“I’d kill for you.”

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning deep in his chest as your walls fluttered around him, wet and full and trembling.

“I’m gonna cum,” he breathed. “Gonna fill you again. So fucking deep. I want you leaking for days. I want you dripping proof that no one else will ever touch you.”

When he came, it was endless—hot and thick, flooding you completely as he held you tight. His chest pressed to yours, lips ghosting against your cheek. No separation. No air. Just him. All of him. He didn’t pull out and roll away. He stayed inside you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding your body against his like a lifeline.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “As long as I breathe, you’re mine.”

[jester-loverre]

YALL. I can’t after this episode, here are some incoherent thoughts nonsense

Joel wears his dad’s watch. Joel has worn it all these years even though it’s been broken for most of it. Now MAYBE MAYBE it broke for the first time when he was defending Tommy from their dad. Sara got it repaired, thereby showing his trauma healed, but then promptly broke again during outbreak day and Sarah’s death, reopening old wounds of needing to be a protector. Eventually after Joel’s death, Ellie wears the watch, becoming her own protector and Dina’s in Seattle.

In the scene with Cat, Ellie specifically emphasizes “It wasn’t an experiment.” She is very sure of her queerness. This and the whole “let me go on patrol and I won’t get pregnant” is her trying to come out to Joel. She has no examples of how to do this, there are no elder queers in Jackson, she’s coming out in the only was she thinks she can, and Joel sees it as teenage rebellion.

The Moth. Gail tells Joel that the meaning of the moth is death and Ellie see moths as symbolizing her greater purpose, becoming the cure. And all this makes sense given the situation, but I’d like to propose something additional and a little out there. Moths can symbolize sexuality and new or changing relationships, something that also has a lot to do with Ellie. I think it’s very fitting that Cat is the person that gave Ellie the tattoo but also how it symbolizes Ellie trying to distance herself from Joel and try to figure out who she is as a person and what her purpose is after she can no longer become the cure.

For context, a few years back, while I was in rehab for PTSD, I formed a close relationship with Don, a staff member and very proud Native American. He gifted me the book “Animal-Speak Pocket Guide” by Ted Andrews. This book has some suggested meanings for various animal messengers across native cultures. Full disclosure, I am not a Native American person, nor do I speak for them. I think that their culture is beautiful and amazing and I think that we can learn so much from them scientifically and culturally. When Joel started talking to Gail about Moths, I literally ran to my room to check what it had to say about Moths.

Uncle Grumpy. 10/10. No notes. Also from now on in all fanfic, JJ needs to call him Grandpa Grumpy or Grump-pa.

The ugly crying has finally started to slow down now and I know I have to go to work in the morning but I have so many thoughts and my brain is a colander.

[porcupine-girl]

Note: Anytime I say “you” here I’m using the general you, not talking directly to the OP or anyone else.

Reading all of this and seeing all the discourse about Bad Person Disorder generally always makes me think about how MANY psychiatric disorders have been seen as “bad person disorders” at some point, though some have been destigmatized. People with bipolar disorder being assumed to have violent, uncontrollable mood swings. Addiction being seen as a moral failing. Etc etc. None of that is okay, but the fact that it’s not okay doesn’t mean that people with those disorders shouldnt get treatment, and moreover it doesn’t mean that their behavior isn’t their responsibility.

I have spent most of my adult life working very hard to not allow my mental disorders to lead me to be abusive. My mom had untreated bipolar and adhd and just let it all run wild, not thinking about how her behavior affected others or trying to control it (with or without actual medical intervention). She was very verbally abusive, but always thought it was justified because if your brain tells you to do a thing you’re allowed to just do it and other people trying to tell you not to are the ones being abusive.

Now I have bipolar and adhd, and the thing is, those disorders actually can make it hard to not be an asshole! Not lashing out (both verbally and physically) when I’m angry or overwhelmed takes more effort for me than it does for many NT people!

But it’s still my responsibility to not lash out. If I can’t control my reaction, I can at least shut myself in my bedroom until I’ve calmed down so that my kid doesn’t have to see it or be affected by it.

Neither “these disorders make people abusive” nor “these disorders have no impact on how abusive a person is” is correct. They make it harder to control your (my) behavior and make sure that you’re (I’m) not being abusive, but they don’t make it impossible, and the effects of your (my) behavior are still your (my) responsibility.

Calling someone bipolar derogatorily used to - and in some cases still does - carry a lot of the same weight as calling someone a narcissist derogatorily. It’s shorthand for asshole, and it shouldn’t be. But it’s also true that it makes it harder to not be an asshole, and people with the disorder have to deal with the fact that they’re going to have to spend their whole lives working harder than other people do in order to not do harm. It’s not fair, but very little about mental illness is, and making other people suffer because you refuse to fight your impulses wouldn’t be fair, either.

On the question of ASPD and NPD I honestly wish the debate would be less about "you can have Bad Person Disorder without being a Bad Person actually" (true) and more so "why is there a Bad Person Disorder and what political purpose does it serve". Like the fact that we are literally and officially diagnosing people as Inherently Bad™️, usually due to trauma reactions, and treating them accordingly should elicit a lot more criticism than it does

[redux-iterum]

There haven’t seemed to be any strongly neurodivergent coded cats in the story yet (unless I missed them LOL that’s very possible for me), so I was curious! Would their clan mates be more accommodating to whatever they struggle with, or would it be seen more as a personal failure since they don’t have concepts for these things? I know that many end up as seers, but surely others wouldn’t fit in that role too. I know they are very community focused and don’t expect everyone to be good at everything— but would those with social deficits, attention span issues, or sensory issues end up in conflict with their clan mates? Would a clan cat understand tics or stims? I know that it probably wouldn’t be explored in detail in any of the books, since the focus is more on the communities at large than on one or two individual characters like in canon, but I like to make up my own cats with two of my friends based on this lore and I would love to hear a little about how neurodivergent cats interact with their community outside of the seer role!

I'll give you this for now: a major character in the third arc will be neurodivergent. I hesitate to use any specific labels, because these cats don't experience mental disorders or conditions the same way humans do (both for plot and worldbuilding reasons), so I won't be using them except as a comparison. I guess the best I can say is that this character will lean very hard into traits you'll see most often in autism, even if they aren't one-to-one with it. Along the way, as we plot out the second arc, we may add in more divergent characters (or alter characters to be divergent), but I won't declare it as a certain thing, in case we don't or can't get to it.

Now, for the lore questions! I'll give a rundown of the big information here, so we have a main post to link to people when they want more context:

We've mentioned before that conditions that affect the brain are not super easy for the Clans to handle. They can understand a broken leg, but (for lack of a classier term) a broken mind is invisible, and you can't just fix it with licking a wound clean or giving someone prey until they can get up and go hunt themselves. This is mostly in the cases where one hallucinates, or is severely mentally handicapped, or struggles with suicidal thoughts or depression - the Clans do not have therapists or a rank specifically built to handle such issues. The best they often can do is provide physical care and work around these disorders to keep the cat alive and as happy as they can be in the Clans. That doesn't always include becoming a seer.

Gooseleaf was extremely lucky that he happened to be in tune with the spirit world and became a seer apprentice, otherwise his schizophrenic episodes would have landed him in the elder's den as soon as he got his name. There have been plenty of challenged cats (and other disorders are included in this) that were just regular warriors, and some became elders quickly in their lives (though there have been perma-apprentices before, but they're treated as elders are all the same). It all depends on the severity of their condition and how it affects their quality of life.

As far as the Clans are concerned, you do the best you can to contribute to your community, and if you simply can't because you're mentally a kit or beginning apprentice, or you can't do much more than sit there and stare at nothing, then it becomes time for the community to contribute to your survival. Often, this includes retiring someone early, or limiting them to staying near or in camp if a caretaker isn't around. In some cases, these cats do end up going to the Houses - not that anyone wants to do that, per se, but sometimes it's just better to let the apprentice who can't learn basic hunting or fighting techniques go be a kittypet, where they'll be safe and warm and cared for their entire life.

The way a Clan decides if a cat needs to leave the territories entirely is pretty simple: if the cat is in significant enough danger from their issues that they need a guard with them at all times, even when they're in camp, it's just not a life anyone considers worth living. The Clans may have contempt for kittypets, but they're not fools; they know that kittypets live longer than any other class of cat in the known world, and they don't have to struggle. The logic then follows that their challenged Clanmate won't have to struggle either, so it's best to ensure their safety and happiness and take them to the Houses. Not anyone's favorite thing to do, but they consider it for the best.

Now, for less intense disorders, such as cat-ADHD or cat-anxiety (simply referred to as "nervousness"), where the cat can function but just has a few "quirks", no one would probably think twice about them as anything but that cat being that cat. Little Cherrypaw is just a fidgety molly who's easily distracted, she can't help that. Better get her a mentor who can keep her active and help her focus in her best way. Oh, and Ravenkit? Yes, yes, he's scared by default, so let's all approach him carefully and back off when he starts to shake. Hey, don't get upset with Mosstail, she's wandering in her mind again. You know she does that sometimes. Don't shake her, she'll get upset and yell. Just let her come back when she's ready.

The nice thing about Clan life is that the community adjusts to whatever issues crop up as quickly and as well as it can, because they need to work together to survive. This can cause friction sometimes, yes, as we've seen in CL with Bluestar - some things are harder than others to work around. But warriors care deeply for each other by default, and they'll do whatever it takes to keep each other alive and happy. If that means taking extra precautions to keep a wobbly cat standing, or letting an apprentice sprint off their energy until they can come back and focus again, or learning how to speak in sign language with a deaf warrior, then they've got no problems with that.

[linkons-most-wanted]

Death and Rebirth chaotic thoughts!

Spoilers below the cut. Hopefully mobile Tumblr won't troll anyone.

SPOILERS BELOW HERE

I will be doing more structured things with these thoughts but I gotta ramble now that I've finished the new main story content! Still drooling at the event tho, we're gonna get even more little reveals I'm sure...

In no particular order:

We got explicit confirmation that Philos's iterations in the myths are parallel potential versions of the same planet! In a GORGEOUS cinematic, at that. I think I might have to screen cap that so I can attach it to a post where I talk about Philos lore. We also know that every version of Philos eventually dies (as all planets do). This actually also creates the possibility that not all versions of Philos started as Earth--that's actually only referenced in Xavier's Where Shooting Stars Fall anecdote, and we see graphics of other versions of Philos that are whole planets (not with the shattered plates) covered in sad (as in Rafayel's Philos myth) or fire (as in Beyond Cloudfall). It also means that Earth can have futures in which it doesn't become Philos--like Dawnbreaker's future. It's maybe a little anticlimactic that they're all parallel? But at the same time a relief to my lore brain because it means I can stop looking for clues about how they're supposed to reconcile. Head-canon wise I still like the idea of certain overlaps between the various timelines, such as Xavier and Sylus recognizing some of the same Philosian tech.

EVER CAUSED THE CHRONORIFT CATASTROPHE BY FUCKING WITH MC, I am SO proud of myself for piecing this together before from the timing, and I even have receipts! I had my suspicions that she was "created" rather than born (since she's elsewhere described as being born from the planet's core) so getting the confirmation that she's "from Deepspace" is extremely exciting.

And on that note, SYLUS SAVED BABY MC. 😭 I am going to be chewing on the bars of my enclosure for more details about that in the event, I hope we get more tidbits... if not you can count on me for a Sylus PoV with head canon to fill it all in 😂 I think what I'm gonna do is add alt chapters to Cosmic Interlude so the current chapters will still be there, but there'll be alternate/additional chapters with the updated canon. My secondary goal with Cosmic Interlude was always to provide a streamlined/clarified version of what we know from canon (partly so I can keep it straight myself) so I def want it to be able to still do that. Folks can then skip the "old" chapters if they want, or read them all for ideas on different ways things could have gone (and we know this game loves branching timelines). And speaking of timelines...

We get an even more primordial origin story for Sylus x MC???? 🥹 Two cosmic beings, forced together because only they could match the other's strength, destined for one to kill the other, but they escape and reshape the destiny of the entire universe 🥹🥹🥹 I'm sure it's partly my bias but Sylus backstory just hits different. I wonder if we'll get a myth from that setting!!???

And that makes me wonder--how does Sylus know about this past life? Did he fall to Philos like a shooting star and wind up amongst the dragons? Did their consciousness energy disperse into the cosmos, and then manifest again on that version of Philos and he's managed to maintain one stream of consciousness since then? If so, when did those memories return to him? Perhaps in dreams, perhaps in the Deepspace Tunnel... so many yummy options... Speaking of delicious, the way he knew RIGHT AWAY that she'd "eaten" the spatium core, and how tempting it must smell... 😋 there will be smut about it.

Switching gears to Zayne, my poor baby. He's going THROUGH IT. And we are finally getting some reveals to all these things that have been foreshadowed. I saw some people expressing confusion that "Dawnbreaker" doesn't remember MC, but I think it's important to realize that the "Dawnbreaker" that manifests isn't necessarily the same one we see in the Anecdotes--Zayne's whole thing is "yin and yang", so I think we're seeing a more "primordial" Dawnbreaker, the ur-yin of Zayne, if you will. The inevitability of death given physical form. The Still in Dark anecdote demonstrates that even this side of Zayne is capable of compassion--through accessing the "energy" of Dr Zayne's yang. Likewise, Dr Zayne is capable of cold utilitarianism through the "energy" of Dawnbreaker's yin. I'm sure we'll get lots of layers here, my gut says trust the writers.

Also, I'm pretty sure we did not successfully destroy the energy core?? I'll look extra carefully when I go through and annotate everything (the results of which will land here) but I do believe that core remains a loose thread, though the press conference was still successfully delayed.

Zayne attempting to disappear at the end is SO him (they have made this a pillar of his personality to the point that it was a key event in the Tomorrow's Catch 22 AU, even) and also so infuriating. I'm so glad we found him before they closed out the chapter, even if it ended on a tense note! I'd say odds are very high we'll get something at the start of the next main story content (whenever that happens) that's like "Zayne was kind of distant and then after his leave he returned to the hospital as if nothing had happened" since episodic universes like this one need that kind of reset. But we'll see.

The reveal that Benedict is basically a shapeshifting Wanderer is FASCINATING, and I think it's implied he was originally "created" at Mt Eternal? Is he the Wanderer that Zayne kept going back to re-freeze, maybe? (as we saw in Snowy Serenity) And now he's escaped? That could explain why Zayne didn't immediately recognize him and how he knew about William. I also think it's interesting how Benedict said, of killing William, "Even I would have hesitated" and we know that Zayne actually did hesitate. So I think we see how easily provoked Zayne's guilt is here--and/or the implication that Zayne was indeed "possessed" by Dawnbreaker in order to kill William, as some have suggested.

I'm also glad we FINALLY have clarity that Zayne was 12 during the Chronorift Catastrophe and those events happened after he met MC, because there's a few errors in his timeline that made it hard for me to pin down whether his dreams began during the catastrophe or whether they were prophetic. I think we'll get a bit more clarity in the event content, too.

I'm also really going to be chewing on the part where he ended up needing to restrain MC (other than that it's hot, okay, idk, it's the second time the Zayne writers have tied someone up and injected them and we're into it) because she was "too strong"--I'm really curious how this manifested, and whether it contributed to that flicker of murderous intent from Dawnbreaker later. The natural assumption is to assume she was just sort of mindlessly flailing to escape--but what if what she experienced as unconsciousness was something more akin to possession? Or her new powers spiraling out of control like Zayne's Evol does? Aaaaah I want answerssss

Last thoughts for now are that I find the contrast between Sylus and Zayne so interesting, especially since they're my two favorite LIs. Sylus is a creature who defies fate, whereas Zayne is bound by it. Sylus's desires influence him (as when he needs to distract himself from the smell of the spatium core from MC) but do not control him. Whereas as Zayne tries desperately to keep everything under control, those desires inevitably end up controlling him. More of the conflict in Sylus's chapters is external (things he and MC need to react to) whereas more of the conflict in Zayne's chapter is internal (decisions he has to make, concerns about his state/motives, etc).

The actual last thing I'll add her (if you read this far, ilu) is that I'll continue updating my lore project GitHub with all the new content. If you've got even a small amount of coding experience, you should find GitHub desktop and Obsidian pretty approachable if you want to explore the project with all the links intact! So so so so so much was foreshadowed and I'm going to be geeking out going through all of it. I'll probably also post some summaries to this blog as well!

[adriana-cosmere-journey]

Final Thoughts on Oathbringer

(Warning: all the Oathbringer spoilers below)

I finished Oathbringer over the weekend, but I have to say, first book in the Stormlight Archive that leaves me with a feeling of exhaustion. Like, I am not super hungry to continue with the next book just yet.

Maybe because the lead-up and the battle in Thaylen City were so long. But anyway. Comments.

First, just acknowledge that AMARAM FINALLY GOT WHAT HE DESERVED. So poetic, him becoming an awful dark monster and then getting slayed accordingly. I kinda love that Rock was the one to finish him, although I am a little worried about what that will do to him.... But he was obviously hiding some warrior past that was meant to eventually catch up with him, right?

Dalinar imprisoning the Thrill: beautiful. Especially because he treated it as a loving old friend... Storms, Dalinar's plot is forcing me too much to look back into my life mistakes and own them 😭😭

I finally like Lift. Her friendship (or whatever) with Dalinar is so fun. Looking forward to more of that.

Not sure what to make of Szeth just yet. I'm still angry that nobody doubted his joining the 'good' side, mainly because it makes no sense when you consider what the other characters know (or don't know yet) about him. Yes, I know he will most likely remain extremely loyal to Dalinar from now on. I just mean the transition was not well done with regards to any other character apart from Nin/Nale and Szeth himself.

Would have liked Adolin to have a little more prominence in the battle, but his insistence to talk to his Shardblade is so precious 💖 I guess if he got her name out of it, it means there is more to recover from her?

I did love Jasnah and Renarin being awesome cousins 😭💞 and Renarin starting to own up to his power! Protecting Adolin 💓

Seeing Jasnah in action: as awesome as expected 🤩🤩 and of course, love it that from now on it is Queen Jasnah, thank you very much 👑

Shallan was mostly awesome, but the whole settling into the 3 personalities felt to me like those are still too many... Like, there are so many unresolved issues inside of her...

And OH ALMIGHTY my throuple babies 😭💖 Ok so, I rather agree that at this point Shallan needs the man who helps her be herself, not the guy who brings out Veil. Adolin keeps being precious in his intentions, even if his 'letting Kaladin have her' was out of place. I love that Shallan is now fully sharing her other personalities with him, and I love that Adolin clearly identifies them and makes a point to treat Veil differently than Shallan.

I think it was a little too convenient that Kaladin just happened to be ok with Adolin/Shallan together right at the same time that Shallan chose Adolin, but oh well. In my mind, that is completely part of a throuple plotline 🤭

I did love how excited Shallan was about the wedding 🥰🥰 and that she was allowing herself to just be happy. I really hope she does share with Adolin about the Ghostbloods and that it becomes a shared burden.... but something tells me that may not happen immediately, ugh.

I think that's it for now. I'll take a small pause before continuing with the Stormlight Archive, and I'll probably also read Edgedancer and Dawnshard before advancing to Rhythm of War.

I also may have a few nice fanfic ideas hammering my brain, starting with a scene or two expanding on the wedding from Kaladin's PoV 🤩😋 may play around with that a little too.

Thanks to anyone who took the time to read this! Do let your comments, please!

[thiccpersonality]

The Diary of A Kryptonian (In Love)

(If you're someone who's read my fics before, hi! I know I need to update on the 5+1, but I keep writing new things and I feel like I have a lot of drafts now 😅 (I don't, it just feels that way). But, my brain wanted to write a simple diary story just because I thought it'd be cute. I'm going to try my best to not leave the diary setting, as I want the story to be told by Clark and leave you all to imagine what these scenarios he's writing about are. I hope I'm able to keep it up as I usually end up writing dialog a lot more.

Also, excuse the certain words switched out in the summary. I had to change words so the characters didn't reach past it's intended limit. Also, also, be assured that I'M NOT ABANDONING MY 5+1 FIC, I'm just writing a bunch of other stuff and stalling ngl lol.

I hope someone is able to enjoy this simple story? And I'll update tags along the way. 💛)

Diary Entry 1: The Mystery Boy

Dear Diary,

Hello...I'm Clark Joseph Kent and I'm ten-years-old. Today is my Birthday and I dunno how to feel about the day. I woke up happy even though I knew there wouldn't be many gifts given to me...ma and pa try their best but the farm has had some trouble lately. They always get me great things that I enjoy, so that's not the reason I am having trouble on how to feel. The problem is that I met a little boy today-ah, that's not to say m'not a little boy either, but the kid I met today is two years younger than me and looks sad. I was playing ball outside with a friend named Billy when I saw him sitting in a broken down car looking like a sad, wet cat, there was an odd feeling in my chest as I looked at the boy...and I started to move unconsciously towards the fancy car, but Billy was there to snap me out from that fuzzy place. I asked Billy if we should invite him to play with us as by this point the mystery boy was looking out his window right at us, but my friend said no and ran off to go play in a nearby lake with some other neighbor kids. I tried to turn around and follow Billy...but that weird fuzz came back in my chest...it felt like...something was pulling at my heart and I felt very sad at the thought of leaving the kid by himself. So, the next thing I knew I turned around! Walking closer towards the well dressed man underneath the hood of his car.

I introduced myself to the man (who introduced himself as Alfred) like my ma and pa taught me to, but I couldn't help but look at the boy still seated inside the car, even while Mr. Alfred was talking to me it was as if my eyes were only able to focus on the mystery boy. I felt caught in his gaze like how I imagine a fly in a spider's web must feel—of course the boy isn't an actual spider, but I'm sure if he was, that he'd be the prettiest spider ever. I think Mr. Alfred sensed that I was interested in his child cause he quickly switched to waving him out of the car and into the heat of Kansas sun. That odd feeling came back in my chest when the boy slid out the car and squinted harshly against the sun...I had this weird urge to cover him from the light, displeased that he was bothered by something. Anyway, this mystery boy's name is Bruce Wayne. But it's good because he's no longer mysterious now cause we know each other's names! That makes me very happy to know, and it's such a nice name. I only just met Bruce but everything about him seems so nice...even if he can feel a little cold, but that's only cause his parents passed recently (sorry for eavesdropping pa), so I think it's fine to be a little cold, right? I feel like Bruce a lot too...it's hard to deal with that cold and lonely feeling, and I know that that's how he feels, it's in his eyes. I think that's where my uncertainty about today comes from...the fact I ran into someone just like me—or, well, who feels exactly as I do. And it doesn't help none that seeing Bruce's frown and clouded eyes bothers me so badly, that feeling in my chest has stayed with me all day and I don't know why it gets to me so much? I know that I can be kind and concerned for others...but I have never felt this strongly about someone until today, but maybe it's because of my stupid, freaky biology. I am an alien after all :(. And don't get me started on the way Bruce smells! It was hard at first when he stepped out of the car...it smelled like my ma's bitter herbs with a touch of soured milk. I have learned so much while being raised on earth and I've been told about my alien roots when I was seven‐that was my first run-in with my powers-and one of the things I've learned are secondary genders: alpha, beta and omega. My ma said that she isn't sure if I'd ever present as one or the other due to my DNA, but that earth must have an effect on me as I smell like a pup—oh, yeah! That brings me to why I was confused on smelling Bruce so much. Pup's don't really have a smell, all except the smell of a baby or milk. The sour milk smell I can get cause Bruce is in distress...but afterwards when he started to play with me and have fun, there was a hint of vanilla, flowers and something citrusy. I tried asking ma, pa and Mr. Alfred about it but they said they only smell each other and me and Bruce's milky, pup scents. When Bruce was happy I think I became happy too, it felt as if there was something in this world for me...which makes me feel bad cause I have ma, pa, Billy and the neighbors, s'not as if I'm alone...but meeting Bruce has felt like meeting...me? If that makes sense. We spent the rest of the day playing together and ate dinner under the stars. Now we are in bed and I think writing things out have helped me decide I had a good day ^-^. Bruce is asleep already and looks comfortable...another thing that makes my chest fuzzy with happiness...or whatever it is. I hope I don't come off as creepy as I keep looking at Bruce? But he's a cute kid. His skin is as pale as my ma's anniversary porcelain and eyes as blue as a...as a...icicle. I can hear his eyelashes brush against his eyelids when his eyes are opened, they are very long and pretty, like Foxtrot's eyelashes (she's one of the horses in our barn). I guess everything about him is swell. I think I should go to bed now...ma just came in and told me to sleep cause of school tomorrow, boo! I hope Bruce isn't planning to leave so soon? I wanna play with him again tomorrow.

G'night Dear Diary: Clark Joseph Kent.

Clark yawns softly as he hides the book away in his dresser drawer, completely forgetting about how he never mentioned what gifts he got, too distracted writing about his new friend to give much thought to his presents. The boy smiles softly as he faces a sleeping Bruce, scooting in closer to the younger as he slowly allows his eyes to close, a soft whisper escaping his lips as he sinks into one of the pillows and his breathing slows to soft puffs of air as he drifts off. 

"Good...night, Bruce, see you t'morrow."

(Clark speaks fairly well for a ten-year-old...and that's not to say that kids can't speak or write well, but let's just say it's his Kryptonian biology causing him to write eloquently for his age XD. Again, these chapters will most likely be very simple and whatnot, but I hope this story can be enjoyed by someone?

Here's the link to my Discord channel/server:

We will always be glad to accept new/more people, so don't be afraid to come join us! Even if you just linger to see what we talk about.

As always, I hope that you darlings stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[coffee-in-rain]

the way i never knew about Hannibal Rising or Hannibal's past until i came across a twitter post about Hannibal's soup trauma (my eyes were truly bugging out of my skull bc i had no idea yall) and after i read he was fed Mischa's remains in a soup when he was a little boy—that's when vulnerable Hannibal clicked in my brain.

that's the moment i became a Hannibal apologist (haven't taken a psychology class in a few years so i may be remembering wrong) because when you go through something deeply traumatic as a child it changes you whether you allow it to or not—whether you live in denial for however many years until it finally wears you down to your very bones—you eventually have to acknowledge it and doing that as a child (acknowledging a traumatic experience) is bound to have an impact on your life long afterwards, too.

Hannibal is (not solely, but maybe just a teensy bit) using what was done to him as a child to normalize it; if it's a normal occurrence, what was done to him won't seem so awful; watching people eat other people who are not in distress about it (they're simply enjoying a meal and having peaceful conversation) compared to Hannibal's experience of eating the soup in the cabin (eating it without any utensils and finishing it quickly because he was so starving) chases away that memory and replaces it with recent memories.

sharing meals with Will throughout the honey trap era brings Hannibal joy because he probably never imagined sharing a meal with someone who knows what the meat truly is, but now he's found this person who does not view cannibalism as something awful. Will is accepting of cannibalism (and the other parts Hannibal's kept hidden for so long out of necessity). that's why i'm a Hannibal apologist in Mizumono. because babygirl truly thought Will wanted to run away with him (and he probably imagined spilling his heart out to Will once they were in Florence; because Will would ultimately ask and this time, Hannibal wouldn't feel the need to keep it buried; it could come out and land in the hands and heart of someone safe).

Hannibal probably never shared Mischa's name (or even the fact he had a sister) with anyone as an adult until Will (besides Bedelia). imagine if sharing that fact with Will led to Hannibal having a nightmare after the fact; and Hannibal felt it worth it because Will was worth everything to him now.

i've said this in a previous post, but imagine during their last shared meal: Hannibal feeling like the lonely and unwanted orphan he used to be back in Lithuania. feeling so small and similar to how other kids and adults at the orphanage would treat him; some kids only acting like a friend to get something (like food, etc); some adults treating him the way Will was now (coaxing him into something that would lead to consequences) like punishment or time out or even physical harm like beatings, etc; because they viewed him as something other, meant to keep out of the social circle.

imagine if after Will left—Hannibal regressed all alone and the sole thing he wanted was to have Will care for him and let him be vulnerable in a way he hadn't been in decades. imagine little Hannibal curling up in bed all alone and feeling like he was losing someone precious again; and this time it hurt even more.

[in-silver-lake]

HIII ELLIE. OKAY SO HERES MY MESSY BRAIN BLURTING OUT A POSSIBLE VERY BAD REQUEST IM SORRY BEFORE HAD ILY. OKAY SO A VERY SAD ANGSTY DEPRESSING FIC WHERE LIKE BILLIE FINDS OUT ABOUT WHATEVER WITH READER ON A RANDOM DAY BY ACCIDENT WHEN READER TRIED TO HIDE IT AND COMFORTS. VERY VERY DEPRESSING, OKAY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU TALENTED BEAST

the world's a little blurry

cw: okay this one's heavy, mentions of sh (nothing graphic, just heavily alluded to), self hatred, just bad thoughts, billie does her best and is just sweet and loving.

a/n: okay, please please please do not read if it's going to harm your mental health, remember that sometimes all it takes is a reminder of that headspace to trigger you. i've been on this tumblr community for a while now, and you are all such sweet sweet people, so please take care of yourselves. people fall to sh for so many different reasons, and it can come in so many different forms. remember that anything you are feeling or experiencing is always valid and always important. also, alice - you're the sweetest, tysm for your support ❤️

i tried so hard to hold out, i really did. when the creeping weight started to settle on my chest again, slowly but surely crushing me with a quiet sort of cruelty, making my feet drag with every step, i tried to fight it. but soon even simple things, like getting myself out of bed in the mornings, like washing my hair, felt much too difficult. when i felt my mind grow heavy and my chest tighten, i tried to command myself to breathe. when i talked to people, it felt mechanical, detached, as if i was pretending to be myself, going through the motions and checking off tick-boxes to make sure i was scoring well on the i am okay scale. on the nights i couldn’t summon the energy to pretend anymore, i made sure to stay with billie, clinging to her on the couch, standing with her in the kitchen while she cooked, never letting myself be in the house alone.

i tried, so desperately, not to succumb to nagging voice in the back of my head that grew louder and louder as the days dragged on: you have no right to feel like this, it sneered, this is pathetic. you’re such a burden. my weak attempts to chant back the positive affirmations my therapist had taught me as a teen - i am good enough, i am allowed to feel this way - were pitiful, laughable.

it was a completely normal day when i finally caved. billie had left for some shoot, telling me about it excitedly as she got dressed, but i couldn’t seem to hear her. everything around me was out of focus, hazy, and so very far away. it all seemed to press in on me at once, leaving me no room to breathe, and i craved the sharp, familiar clarity. so, overwhelmed with hatred for myself with what i was about to ruin, with the way i was about to throw out years of hard work and healing, i gave in.

i didn’t hear billie come home, didn’t hear her call out my name as she walked up the stairs to our bedroom. i was sitting on the cool tile of the adjoining bathroom floor, leant against the white cabinets, stuck in a sort of daze, focused on the feeling of the smooth white bandage wrapped tightly around my thigh. 

too late, her excited chatter reached my ears as she walked into the bedroom, “you’re not gonna believe who i saw today-”

she abruptly cut off, and i looked up to see her staring at me with wide eyes, her lips slightly open, breath stolen from her lungs, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“...baby?” she asked, her voice shaking, uncertain and unsettled.

i had no energy left to try and scramble to hide, to pretend for any longer that the blackness i felt coating my insides wasn’t slowly poisoning me. tears sprung to my eyes, shameful and disappointed.

“i’m sorry,” i choked out, breath hitching in my throat, “i’m sorry billie, i’m so, so sorry-”

she was immediately next to me, arms around me and gripping me tight, hugging me fiercely as if she was scared i would fade away and disappear otherwise. her lips pressed a long, shaky kiss to my temple, and i felt my skin dampen with her warm tears. my hands laid at my sides, no longer sure how to accept her affection.

“i love you so much, baby,” she spoke into my skin, and all of a sudden i couldn’t take it anymore. i couldn’t take feeling like this alone, and so i broke down. everything hit me as i sobbed into her shoulder, and my arms finally reached up to grasp desperately to the back of her hoodie. i struggled to breathe through the suffocating weight on my chest, on my heart, through the crushing disappointment i felt in myself, through the voice in the back of my head telling me even then that i didn’t deserve her love. 

she only gripped me tighter, holding me as i cried. she didn’t try to move once, not even to alleviate the discomfort kneeling on the cold, hard tile was surely causing her. eventually, she lifted her head to look at me and brought a hand up to gently rest against my face, stroking her thumb back and forth along my reddened cheeks, making no attempt to wipe away my tears. she clasped my hand, holding it against her chest tightly. 

her eyes were glassy, pleading with me as she whispered, “baby, please. let me in, let me help you. i can’t watch you struggle alone in this anymore.”

“i’m - i’m not even sure how i got here. nothing happened, y’know?” i started. my words scratched my throat as they came out raspy, tired, “i just - lately everything’s been too much to deal with, and i could feel myself shutting down, but i couldn’t stop it no matter how hard i tried. and i tried, please, i promise i tried.” fresh tears pricked at my eyes, the shame and disappointment i felt in myself overwhelming, crippling.

“i couldn’t handle it anymore, so i…i did the only thing that i thought would bring me a moment of peace.”

i heard her draw in a sharp breath as she raised our clasped hands to press a lingering kiss into my skin, her hand trembling slightly. she closed her eyes for just a moment, as if to process what i had said, before she lifted her lips from my skin, opening her eyes again to search mine. 

“but - billie, it’s just made me feel worse than before,” i breathed, breath hitching in my throat. 

“oh, baby, c’mere,” she beckoned, her voice breaking as she spoke. she drew me into her chest as i continued to sob, unsure of everything around me, of my own mind, but desperately clinging to billie’s familiarity, her warmth, her love. 

i eventually pulled away, meeting her teary eyes with my own.

“don’t say sorry,” she said, her voice soft, but firm, and only shaking slightly. She brought her hand to the back of my neck, leaning her forehead down to touch mine. 

“i love you, i love every part of you. i never want you to hide this from me, to feel alone in it.”

we stayed like that for a few moments before she pulled away and reached out to help me stand. wordlessly, she began to undress me, tugging my shorts down so, so slowly, giving me time to move away if i felt uncomfortable. she grasped the hem of my shirt and raised it above my head, her eyes never straying from my face. she reached over to turn the shower on, letting the steam fill the room as she undressed herself and led me under the warm stream. 

she reached for the shampoo, pouring a little onto her hand before she started to massage it into my scalp. my eyes began to close as i gave into exhaustion, and the emotional toll of the last half hour, of the last month, caught up with me. i let her take care of me as she rinsed the shampoo from my hair, let myself breathe as her hands gently brushed my neck as she did so, sighed with every soft kiss she pressed onto my temple and every delicate swipe of her fingertips against my face. not once did she glance down at my bandaged thigh, and for that i felt so incredibly grateful. 

eventually, we stepped out, and she carefully dried me with one of our softer towels before she pulled a clean, warm hoodie over my head and thick sweatpants over my hips. she walked me over to our bed and laid me down, pulling me into her chest and wrapping her arms securely around me as she held me close. 

“we’re going to figure this out. i’m here for you always, baby,” she said, her words tight with worry but thick with love. i just laid there as i breathed in her scent and absorbed her touch. the heaviness was still in my chest, but with it sat the warmth of her care, of her love. a sense of peace that i hadn’t felt in days settled over me, her hand gently stroking my hair the last thing i felt before i fell into a dreamless sleep.

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[burningcheese-merchant]

Finally made a BurningCheese chart. I can finally die now /j

More detailed explanations under cut. I admit that my placements are a liiiiiiiiiittle all over the place because I ship BurningCheese a bunch of different ways, but for the most part it's really the enemies to lovers + redemption arc from my main canon influencing my thoughts here

Tropes: idk if this really needs much elaboration. Enemies to Lovers + Soulmates + Forbidden Love (the hero/villain type) + God Couple + Narrative/Character Foils + Golden Cheese has some tsundere tendencies at points + Burning Spice's yandere tendencies + Tall and Short + idk the exact names of all the tropes man lol. These are probably the most important ones

Age Difference: who actually knows lol. They're both old coots, that's the gist of it. They're so old that they both knew the Burger King when he was a prince. They're so old their birth certificates already expired. They're so old that if you told them to act their age, they'd keel over and die on the spot. Old people being madly in love even after so many years is so cute 😭

Height Difference: If your Burning Spice does not have to duck when walking through doorways then you're imagining him wrong. Hell I STILL might've made him too short. Golden Cheese must barely reach his shoulder while standing and fit snugly in his lap while sitting, It Is Decreed (I know 5'7" isn't THAT short, I'm just leaning into the short queen jokes)

Trust Lvl: This was a little tough for me because I was juggling multiple factors at once. I gave BS 100% trust because I think, no matter what, he genuinely would trust her. To love him, to be loyal, to be there when he needs her, to beat his ass black and blue when necessary, to listen to what he has to say about things. He's giving his whole entire self to her without hesitation or regrets. / There's that bit of the bar still empty for Golden Cheese because, even when she warms up to him (and she never once doubts his love for her, that's not the issue), she's not entirely sure of what he'll do. For a long while yet, some part of her will worry that he will turn on her and resume his reign of terror at any moment. She needs time and consistency. Proof that he will choose her over destruction if and when pushed. When he's fully able to do that, THEN she trusts him fully. (Outside of the main canon, it remains a bit empty (even LOWER in some instances) bc he very much remains evil and she cannot abide by that)

Jealousy Lvl: Burning Spice is jealous and possessive but not overly so. He doesn't really need to be; he knows his little bird is loyal. But she's a beautiful woman in more ways than one, and he's far from the only person to notice that. So he gets mad when he catches anyone making goo-goo eyes at her, or even flirting if they somehow have the gumption. He doesn't harm them anymore but he will step in and make some show of dominance, like grabbing her and pulling her into a kiss or scooping her up in his arms. Something to pointedly demonstrate that she is HIS and no one else's. / Golden Cheese is very confident and secure; she knows her worth and she knows and trusts that Burning Spice would never stray. But... in the end, she's still Golden Cheese. She's still greedy. She still doesn't want anyone coveting what is hers, no matter what. It's practically a compulsion at this point. So in those (thankfully rare) moments where some floozy who's forgotten her place tries to make a move on HER man, then she's more than happy to correct her. (The encounter ends with Spice covered in kiss marks (and super happy) and the wannabe homewrecker in tears because Golden can be a MEAN girl when she tries)

Horny Lvl: I might've made a mistake not marking Spice's a little bit higher because he's definitely a horndog lol. Of course he's not completely fucking bonkers but he does often struggle to keep his hands off of his bird wife. Physical touch is his main love language anyway + goddamn it she's gorgeous she's everything he ever wanted he NEEDS HER- / Golden Cheese very much enjoys sex and thinks their sex life is perfect, but she's not as needy as him. Like, she doesn't DIE for it unless it's been too long. She has self-control/discipline and other things to think about lol (there's actually a nsfw ship chart that I've thought about filling out and posting, but idk if I should. I have a billion headcanons for them, sfw and nsfw. I'm just nervous abt the latter because I feel kind of embarrassed lol. I usually save the freaky stuff for AO3)

Clingy Lvl: Again, physical touch is Burning Spice's main love language. That combined with his time in prison (millennia in isolation) and Golden Cheese being his literal soulmate makes for a good deal of separation anxiety lol. He will give her space if she really pushes, and of course he has things he wants to do on his own time and she can't always be around. But... no matter what, at the end of the day, he NEEDS her back in his arms. He gets bored and lonely really fast without her. She makes his day better just being near him. He needs to touch her, hold her, hear her voice, run his hands through her wings, taste those pretty lips again... / With all of the hardship she's endured in her life, Golden Cheese has developed a certain tolerance for solitude. Of course she'd rather have company, including his, but if push comes to shove, she can handle being alone. She's fiercely independent in many aspects of her life. Her time with Burning Spice can wait if something more important comes up. She won't die without him. (But she'll certainly miss him)

How It Happens: come on man, you played the game, didn't you? BS falling head over heels on sight, feelings only deepening with time and closeness, and him doing everything in his power to be near her as often as possible? For sure. Golden Cheese taking 10000 years to warm up to him, slowly starting to see the halfway decent man buried deep down beneath the blackened soil of his heart, starting to care for him and want him by her side without even realizing it at first, and trying to deny it when she finally does realize what's happening? Definitely

Relationship Attitude: Obviously they're both very much in love and devoted to each other, but Golden Cheese dials it back a bit in public - just for the sake of appearances, really. She's the queen; she can't go about acting like a lovestruck schoolgirl, she has a reputation to uphold. Burning Spice, on the other hand, absolutely does not give a fuck about what anyone has to say about anything at all. He WILL trap his little bird in a warm embrace and he WILL smother her with kisses and fuck whoever is standing there watching, they can fuck off and mind their own business

First to Confess: He may not have said the exact words "I love you" but good Lord he may as well have with how he behaves in episode 6 lmao. 555-COME-ON-NOW (and omg he is SO fucking happy she eventually says it back)

First to Kiss: Spice. Duh lol. Honestly the only reason he didn't kiss her during eps 5 and 6 is because Devsis are a bunch of cowards

First to Apologize: Another tough one bc they're both very proud/stubborn and would probably demand the other apologize before they do. But because Golden Cheese is a hero at her core, I think it's a bit more likely that she'd say it first. Usually.

Initiates Contact: Spice all the way. He even initiated when they first met lol. He's always the one seeking her out, starting conversations, getting those big strong arms of his around her. Not that she never initiates, he just does it a lot more

Spoils the Other: In total honesty I think they both spoil the other, just in different ways. Golden Cheese with food and trinkets and general pampering, Burning Spice with that physical affection of his. Plenty of flirting and compliments from both. But Goldie is Goldie so of course she wins lol. As if she wouldn't lavish her lover with the finest of everything all the time

Wakes Up First: As queen, Golden Cheese has long since grown accustomed to rising bright and early to attend to her kingdom and subjects. "Early bird gets the cheese" and all that. Burning Spice sleeps like the dead and always wakes up after her (usually to grumble about her getting up bc he doesn't want her to. He tries to hold her hostage in bed almost every morning)

Does the Cooking: Believe it or not, Burning Spice is actually a pretty good chef (I headcanon him as such haha). Golden Cheese really loves the food he makes (he's best with food from his own culture, but he does a good job with other things too) and she's used to other people cooking for her (she's pretty basic at it tbh. She doesn't burn water like Hollyberry but she can't do much) so hubby making her good food? Yes please

Does the Housework: I cannot imagine Golden Cheese NOT being a bit of a neat freak. Why wouldn't she want everything looking pristine 24/7, to fit her immaculate visions of an immaculate, prosperous land? Burning Spice is Burning Spice, he would sleep on the fucking floor and in piles of trash and dirty clothes (and probably has tbh) if left alone, he is literally Destruction why would he clean anything. He gets pissy when he sweeps the floor with a broom for 5 seconds he ain't doing no housework unless forced to (which he often is)

Does the Talking: Was going to leave just Goldie but tbh I don't see Spice just standing there while she talks. He'd want to talk himself. He'd want to participate. He's not shy, he's no introvert. They're both asserting themselves in conversations for sure

The More Popular: I chose to define "popular" as "regarded with affection and respect by many", thus handing it to Goldie. Spice has his soldiers and they are numerous, but they obey him only out of fear. Golden is genuinely loved and listened to. (Even post-redemption, people just gravitate to her more lol. Just how it is)

The Designated Driver: Burning Spice behind the wheel is a doomsday scenario. He has been preemptively banned from driving to prevent death and property damage and war crimes. Fine, whatever, he'd rather walk. He doesn't need this newfangled contraption no matter how cool it is. Come on let him drive a monster truck 200 mph through concrete walls :(

The Better Caregiver: I'm certain they'd both take care of each other when sick or injured. Doubly so since both would probably balk at being fussed over lol. (I know Golden has her attendants and likes being pampered but I feel like it would just hit different with Spice, you know?) They're both proud and stubborn and need to appear strong all the time... But when the shoe is on the other foot, they'd both do whatever they can for the other regardless of their protests. (Especially true on Spice's part when Golden is pregnant with their kids, he goes above and beyond for her both times)

The Overprotective One: This is more so when Golden is pregnant tbh. Any other time, they don't really worry much about each other's safety as they're very confident in each other's strength and fighting capabilities ("I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me"). When she's pregnant, Spice goes full Protective Husband/Papa Bear mode and both worships the ground she walks on and fusses over he constantly, almost treating her like a porcelain doll. Her needs and wants are always met immediately, but he basically becomes her second shadow and is even hostile to other people who interact with her. It's both sweet and frustrating

The Planner: Golden Cheese planned a whole ass highly detailed virtual reality where her subjects could live again. Burning Spice forsook planning and anything like it in his descent into villainy as he couldn't bring himself to care about it anymore. Destruction doesn't need a plan. So yeah, Golden is the planner for sure. Best Spice would do is maybe try to plan dates because he wants to please/impress her

"Excuse me, they asked for no pickles": Spice just likes watching Golden go and firmly correct people lol. It's funny and hot. He doesn't even really care that the pickles are there, he just loves her assertiveness

Big Spoon VS Little Spoon: Was going to leave Spice on Big Spoon end and Golden on Little Spoon end but tbh, they'd split it. Spice is Big Spoon more often than not but Golden would definitely be Big Spoon too. They holdin each othah

Early Bird VS Revenge Procrastination: refer to "Wakes Up First". Golden has a kingdom to run, can't sleep in. Spice technically does too but whatever they're tough they can do shit on their own, he wants to lay in bed with his bird wife go away

Tidy VS Chaotic: Refer to "does the housework". Golden Cheese cares about appearances and functionality, she wants her kingdom and living space clean and beautiful and the envy of the world. Burning Spice is Burning Spice

Screams Over Bugs VS Kills/Removes Bugs: I don't think Golden would do either tbh. Probably just shoo the bug away. Spice is squashing that fucker though, even post-redemption (old habits die hard)

Lends Clothes VS Borrows Clothes: Spice doesn't really have too many clothes to lend tbh (too big + not really her style). She mostly nabs any jewelry he has lol. He doesn't mind, he actually really adores that she'll wear his things. He sees it as a show of pride in their relationship. (Shhh... Sometimes, when they've been apart for a long time and his absence feels particularly painful, she'll grab one of his dhotis and wrap herself up in it. Bring it to her face, breathe in his scent. Revel in its softness. Don't tell anyone)

Takes Hints VS Clueless: ngl as forward as Spice is with Golden, I'm not sure he'd notice or care if anyone else flirted with him. He just doesn't seem like the type to have ever cared about that sort of thing, both as Herald and as Beast. Too wrapped up in other ideas and pursuits (and in the event that he actually caught on to someone hitting on him, Herald would've politely turned them down and Beast would viciously mock them and probably kill them). Like, Golden actually is the one person that ever caught his eye. And she's got more relationship experience under her belt and knows how to be subtle, so there actually are times when she says or does something and it goes over his head (it's cute and funny sometimes and frustrating others)

Romantic VS Casual: They're certainly not casual but I think Golden would put more effort into being romantic just as a consequence of who she is. That "wanting to pamper and adore my lover to the fullest extent" thing. Spice didn't care about love or romance before her, and was just never really a romantic type. He tries to pick it up more just for her. But what he perceives to be romantic doesn't always align with "tradition" (ex: he thinks their brutal fights are hot/romantic). He does have some charm, he can be smooth, he can do genuinely sweet and romantic things. But it's something he learns and refines over time

Decisive VS Indecisive (I FORGOT THIS ONE FUCK): They're both pretty decisive and firm in their decisions. What makes Golden hesitate is specifically her relationship and interactions with Spice. Grappling with the reality of her feelings and attachment and their relationship. Wondering if he'll turn on her when she lets her guard down. Struggling with the morality of it all. Fearing rejection to a small degree maybe. (I honestly like the concept of the Beasts and Ancients bringing things out of each other that no one else can or has. Like how Shadow Milk makes Pure Vanilla genuinely angry, or Burning Spice makes Golden Cheese doubt herself and her choices. I want them all keeping each other on their toes. Challenging each other. Making each other upset when they're happy and happy when they're upset. You know what I mean?)

Mature VS Playful: I think they're both equally playful with each other tbh. Something they're both on the same level with. Lots of banter (I love writing their back-and-forths, imo they'd keep up with each other so well), lighthearted sarcasm and jabs and jokes, some play fighting/roughhousing. They have fun with each other

Straightforward VS Vague: Spice has been telling Golden things to her face from minute 1. Just admitting all of his shit to her. Spilling his spaghetti. He likes her, he wants her, they're going to be together forever. Point blank period.

Confident VS Shy: Of course they're both super confident, do I have to elaborate? Lol

Ray of Sunshine VS Done™️: Golden may not be on the same level as Pure Vanilla (nobody is lol) but even so, all things considered, she seems like a relatively happy person. Still finds joy in life and things. She's not cold or stoic or anything like that. Spice... I probably should've moved him further to the right tbh. I just always think of "done" as "visibly tired" and I let that influence his placement. He IS tired, he IS done, it just presents differently. So forgive me and imagine his little Soul Jam there being significantly closer to the end of the right side please and thank you

Realistic VS Idealistic: dude come on lol. The game spells it out for us. Spice is a cruel, bloodthirsty nihilist who goes out of his way to take down things that make people happy. Who virulently denies the value of life and humanity and insists that everything and everyone are only destined to become dust, and any attempt to stop or deny this is futile and pathetic. He's cynical, pessimistic, doesn't do "hope" or ideals anymore. Golden, on the other hand, believes so strongly in her own dreams and ideals that she locked herself away in a false reality just so she could "revive" her kingdom. And when she woke, she continued dedicating herself to finding a way to bring them all back. She is hope and idealism incarnate, to the point of straight up delusion. They're both extremes that mirror each other

Would Die for Attention VS Independent: Look at all the crazy shit Spice has done so Golden would pay attention to him lol. He needs the pretty cheese lady to notice him and talk to him and touch him and beat him up. Please. Pretty please (not as pretty as her though, nothing is). Please they're soulmates she has to. He won't immediately burst into flames if she's not next to him 24/7, but he's happier with her than without. He starts itching when they're apart for too long (and it doesn't take all THAT long tbh). As said before, Golden likes and wants his company but she's always been a fiercely independent woman and can handle solitude

Tense VS Easygoing: wasn't super sure what to do for this one. Like idk what "tense" is supposed to mean here. I think Golden is relatively normal about everything, doesn't worry about cheating or anything else really. I attribute that little bit of tenseness in Spice to his jealousy and clinginess. But otherwise he's probably fine

Head VS Heart: neither of them are stupid, far from it, but it's clear that they both allow emotion to govern their actions more than logic lol. No matter how he may claim to have destroyed his own emotions to rid himself of attachment, it's clear that Burning Spice still feels things, in general but ESPECIALLY for/about her. It's all heart when it comes to her. No logic, no laws, no rules, just him and her and THEM. Just their connection, just their relationship. Golden Cheese may still abide by a somewhat stronger logical anchor, but even so, she's a "heart" girl. It's her heart that pushed her to make her fantasy world. It's her heart that makes her cling so hard to her treasures, despite logically knowing they're gone. It was her heart that saved her in episode 6, her thoughts and memories and love for her friends that made and still make her strong. And though logic fights a good fight with regards to her relationship with Spice, it's her heart that wins again in the end

[obsessedoverwater]

Becoming a Knuxadow fan truly feels like I'm eating moldy bread and sometimes I occasionally get a piece that's only stale. If I'm lucky maybe it'll be mildew instead.