#if you remove the whys do you still feel the same way?

[osakanone]

Writer here.

Actually to hell with this false equivalence and the advice.

Advice is a form of social nostalgia. We learn something, but we remove the bad parts to help us remember the thing. We simplify it down.

When we pass it on, we conveniently forget to put the shitty parts back on, because that's how memory works and its part of how we value advice appropriateness of past experiences.

We do this even when someone's situation and context is totally unlike our own and we do so with confidence until we learn not to.

The big lesson?

Life doesn't generalize. Neither does context.

Experience does not generalize. That's literally how and why people are different from one another. We get to know people unlike ourselves so we can see differing contexts, so we know when our experiences do not generalize. So we can see beyond ourselves.

Some people desperately want to think all of life generalizes, but that's the same mentality which produces people who think they can personal choices their way out of any imaginable problem.

As an example, a thousand Signalis like tragedies doesn't prepare someone for a dead spouse.

A million Disco Elysiums cannot undo decades of catastrophic self-hatred.

Its not like a fire-drill where after doing it enough you go into autopilot with some kind of readiness and automaticity even if it claims to sell you that fantasy.

It can put tools in your hand, but only if your context is close enough that the tools are actionable and useful.

If the realization is not useful, you can't act on it.

Sometimes it is, sometimes its not, often because minor contextural factors will intervene.

What if you have a lot of complex feelings about both a dead spouse and your concept of gender and its all too muddled to process in Signalis and it messes with your ability to process your grief?

What if you have a lot of complex feelings about an alcoholic parent and Harry makes you forgive things you shouldn't forgive?

People are influenced by media, and they do do things like this.

Sometimes instinctively, they even know they shouldn't and will drop something.

Like don't get me wrong, advice is helpful sometimes but its ultimately still advice in the form of roleplay with number of players zero.

The real thing is not an abstraction.

Sometimes what people actually need isn't piles and piles of tools, but distance. To know things can be different, or just not to think about what's happening so they can get things done that will help their situation. To know there is something worth working towards. That it isn't going to rain forever.

Sometimes what people want is catharsis or just relief or to feel seen rather than to learn or be told something or shown a different way to think or be given actionable tools.

They just want to escape so there's a reward to getting things done that let them continue to exist. A carrot on the end of a stick so things feel worth doing.

Sometimes people aren't willing to suffer to get there because they're already so depleted, and get those lessons because they just want a carrot to only be a carrot.

You might say that unreasonable or unrealistic or even childish but many people don't get a controlled environment in their heads to begin with (and potentially not even one in their lives) so your bit about a controlled sandbox doesn't generalize either.

The sheer distance of how far away two human contexts can even be is beyond imagination in its nuanced emergent subtleties.

Nothing in our evolution has prepared us for the era we live in.

Lots of people as a defense mechanism will struggle to connect with others who have difficult experiences as a means of limiting the incoming pain as they're already saturated.

That's not going to help someone connect to a story or care enough to complete it.

Fiction can be useful to bridge those gaps or even bring people closer, but it won't make people whole again, especially if they don't even know what being whole is or if they don't have space to walk.

Remember Maslow's higherarchy?

Think of where you have to be for personal growth to happen.

Lots of people begin from below the ground up, not even knowing what experiences they didn't get to have or what lessons they weren't taught as children, assuming they were even taught any.

The context where your advice genuinely helps?

Not everybody is there.

Please remember this.

Take care.

whenever people say they can't watch/play/read anything slightly upsetting or scary or challenging because it's... upsetting or scary or challenging all i can think of is this lol

[willowisdead345]

post about l4x4tive safety!!

Disclaimer: this is an educational post meant to encourage people to atleast be safe if they decide to use this type of meds, like many with 3ds do. I’m not encouraging the use of l4x4tives, but if someone will use them regardless, I’d rather educate them about safety.

L4x4tives will NOT MAKE YOU LOSE WEIGHT. They won’t. They don’t remove calories of fat or anything like that. They might make you lose weight due to the fact that you have less feces inside you, but they will not remove fat or calories or anything except waste and water. They won’t make you lose weight, so do NOT take them for that purpose. 

This is looong but necessary if this applies to you

Don’t use l4x4tives, but if you will anyways, use l4x4tives responsibly! Don’t abuse them, be safe. There are 2 main types of l4x4tives, this post will handle them separately. They are “bulk-forming” and “stimulating” and function differently

Why use them then? A diet deficient in fiber might make you constipated, that’s just the truth. And a highly restricted diet is often deficient in fiber. 3ds and constipation go hand in hand often, so using medicine to help you yk pass waste after weeks of stomach pain from not doing so is sometimes a good idea.

Natural alternatives include either dried plums/plum puree, or making sure you get enough fiber in your diet. And maybe you are lucky and manage to keep regular without anything, then definitely DON'T experiment with pharmaceuticals.

DO NOT USE ALL TYPES OF L4X4TIVES though, please read this post and try to use bulk forming l4x4tives, they are safer. They “bulk up” what is inside you and makes it easier for stuff to come out, because well… there is more to push. They are less bad for your body in the way that they don’t stimulate the muscles of your bowel, and just naturally make you use the bathroom. They don’t have the same risk of your bowel relying on them like stimulating l4x4tives (where the bowel might stop working naturally due to overreliance on stimulating l4x4tives). Google any l4x to see which “type” it is, and try to stay away from stimulating ones if you truly feel like you need to use them. 

Stimulating l4x4tives are the other category, they are things that work by stimulating the muscles of your intestines and force stuff to come out by doing that. They carry the risk of causing dependance, since they might make it impossible to pass anything without using them if your bowel gets too accustomed to them. They are recommended to be used for severe constipation, once and not eaten continuously. They are more “powerful” and often work faster, but they are also more dangerous.

Safety tips for stimulating l4x4ives:

FOLLOW DOSAGE RECOMMENDATIONS. Do NOT fcking 0d on them. The dosing recommendations are found online or in the packet. Don’t go over them. Just do not, the recommendations are there for a reason.

NOT EVERY DAY!! Every 3 days is still considered a healthy interval for bowel movements, so aim for that, and if possible without too much discomfort, maybe once a week is fine (for me personally, I aim for once a week since it’s not too uncomfortable to wait)

DON’T OVER RELY ON THEM!! Try to use bulk-forming l4x4tives, try to use natural alternatives like eating more fiber, try anything else. Stimulating l4x are not good to rely on blindly, because at some point you’ll need them and your bowel just won’t function without them.

I could link some sources but they are all in Finnish, but if there are any questions, anything at all, feel free to ask, I’ll be glad to answer! Or try doing your own research, I’d recommend making sure you know the risks of the specific one.

[arbitrarykiwi]

Pill Poppin!

Thanos/Choi Su-bong (Player 230) x Fem producer!reader smut one-shot

Summary: you’re a self made producer, making tracks for many underground rappers, but one client always gets under your skin. Choi Su-bong. He’s forgot to pay you on more than one occasion, shows up to your studio like he owns the place and is so cocky it’s annoying. When he shows up to your studio at 2am randomly, he comes bearing gifts- one of them being the little pill you’ve been dying to try.

Warnings: smut (18+), drug usage, weed and alcohol mention, pill swapping, reader is described to have used various drugs before, you take a lil aphrodisiac pill with him <3, sex under the influence, spit- lots of spit, oral (f receiving), pet names (slut n bitch is used a couple times), dirty talk, squirting, creampie, i feel like Thanos in himself is a mf warning, there prolly more- read at your own risk.

You huff, clicking the same three buttons yet again, removing a small snippet of some drums and clipping it back- trying to get it right.

You tucked your knees up onto the chair you sat on, reaching out to grip the desk- pulling yourself forward on the wheeled chair, tucking yourself comfortably in front of the mouse and keyboard.

Recently, you found yourself working late nights in the small music studio you rented. For some reason the summer months had people lined up at your door with cash in hand offers for your beats. So there you found yourself, blanket over your shoulders, knees tucked up to your chest as you work on the same .5 seconds of the track over and over- trying to get it right.

Your eyes are tired, your ears ringing with the same loop of drums, snares, and mouse clicks. The routine ensemble of sounds is interrupted by three loud and harsh knocks at the door to your studio.

It causes you to jump, launching off your headphones and whipping around in your chair to glare at the door. Maybe you misheard it?

Three more loud knocks, the force shaking the door. You look over to the large digital clock, 1:45am. You weren’t expecting anyone.

You get up out of your chair in a slow creeping motion, the fluffy blanket dropping off your shoulder and piling into the black chair you just got out of. You make your way over to the door- your slippers shuffling against the carpet.

When you make it to the door you look back to your workstation- open alcohol cans and a tray full of weed. Great- you think. Could be the fucking cops you’re opening the door to and you have nearly an ounce scattered around the place.

You unlock the door, unchain the deadbolt and crack it open, peering around the door with an annoyed scowl. Your body is tense as you see who’s at your door. The light from your music studio floods the street from behind you in a thin line. You can’t make out exactly who’s there, but you see it’s definitely not a cop- no weapon belt or badges and you sigh, much more relaxed, shoulders dropping.

You open the door more- your face still in the scowl. “You knock like the fuckin’ cops. Now what do you-“

You’re cut off as the light floods out into the street, revealing who exactly is at your studio this hour. “Su-bong?!” You say both annoyed and surprised.

“I’ve been telling you~ it’s Thanos, baby.” He says pushing past you and into your studio. You scoff, opening your mouth to object but you don’t, instead closing the studio door behind him and locking it back with a sigh.

“Okayyyy,” you draw out, the word accompanied by a roll of your eyes, “Thanos.” You correct with a scoff. You scowl when he makes himself comfortable on the couch in your studio, like he owns the place.

“What are you doing here. It’s late and I already gave you your track…” your tired eyes widen as you dart to the computer “…didn’t I?!” You say frantically, sitting back in your chair and pulling it to the desk, beginning to rapidly open your email to see if you actually sent it to him- that had to be why he showed up so randomly.

You hear him laugh, “Señorita,” he called out with a cocky tone, you can hear the stupid smirk on his face even with your back turned to him, “you sent me by beat, it was perfect. I can’t just come by to see my favorite producer?” He says leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

You groan, annoyed that he made you so worried, you grip a small plush bear that sat at your desk, turning around and throwing it at him, “You fucking asshole!” You yell. He simply catches the bear midair and laughs. Then you spin the chair you sit in to look at him, and eyebrow raised in an accusatory look. “So you came by…at…” you turn to the clock behind you, “2 in the morning just to see me?” You ask.

He shrugs, “Yeah exactly that. Wanted to see your pretty face.” He says, tilting his head with his smirk widening, almost akin to the cheshire cat. You cross your arms and glare at him.

You knew he either came around when it was time to pay or cause trouble. He was no stranger to paying you late for the tracks you send him, or showing up to your studio high out of his mind in the middle of the night to beg you to record an incoherent track, or to crashing on your couch in the studio when he gets evicted for a week before he gets a new place, or to even beg you for free work.

For years he has caused you nothing but trouble but you still worked with him, you still let him crash on the couch, and you still let him have new beats despite having not paid for the last one you made him. You were attracted to him in some weird way but it pissed you off so much. You realize now, at 2 in the morning as he lays sprawled out on your couch, legs up and laid back like he owns the place, you snap.

“I don’t care what you’re here- it’s 2am, You barge in here, acting like you own the place. I really am fucking doing any free work for you, I’m fucking sick of you coming around here late at night and pulling dumb dumbass stunt.” You scold your anger beginning to rise. “And you know what else-“

You’re immediately cut off by him bolting up off of the couch, bounding over to you in a single step. His hands slam against the armrests of the chair you’re sitting in, caging you in. His face is inches from yours. You can’t even see his irises, his pupils are blown out beyond belief- he’s beyond fucked up. The quickness of him changing from annoying but somewhat charming to terrifying is… well terrifying.

His teeth are clenched, his breath is heavy and it comes out in heaving puffs as he glares at you. “You just don’t know when to shut your fuckin mouth.” He seethes, emphasizing his words by slamming his hands on the armrests of the chair, the sheer force causing the chair to shake. “Rude bitch.” He spits out.

Your initial fear is taken over by rage, you sit up taller in your chair, your gaze narrowing, “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” He says, his voice raising. One of his hands picks up from the armrest and grips your chin. The grip is rough, painful, you’re sure it will leave bruises if he didn’t let go soon.

You swallow thickly, trying to pull back from his grip but it’s impossible. “You’re going to fix your attitude and shut the fuck up for one second.” He growls, pushing your face back and releasing his grip. You know better than to move or speak.

You look up at him with wide eyes as he pulls back, standing up straight. “I came here for multiple reasons.” He growls, his voice still raised and seething. “For one, I brought all the money I ever owed you and then some.” He says, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out a massive wad of cash and throwing it onto the desk next to you.

“Second, I came to show you that the last track you made, the song and music video I put out hit over 3 million views allowed me to get a hook up for you with the big DJ that you always ramble on and on about. He wants to work with you.” He says pacing around the room, your mouth just drops open, you can hardly process what’s going on.

He pauses his pacing, returning back to you, arms on the armrests of the chair- caging you in again, but this time it isn’t as violent. “And lastly, I remembered you whining that you didn’t get to try that new shit that just dropped yet so I brought you some. I came to do it with you so you’d have a fucking trip sitter.” He seethes.

You genuinely think you’re already tripping and you know you’ve only smoked maybe one blunt in the last hour but you could not believe what you were hearing. He’s brought you what looks like seven times what he owed you- something in all the years of knowing him you’d never thought he would have done.

He somehow got your beat to not only go viral but the vitality got your favorite DJ to converse with him. You couldn’t even fathom that he remembered your various rambles about how much you liked this specific DJ- but somehow he remembered and set up a collab for you?!?

And lastly, he remembered a passing comment you made about wanting to try the new colorful pills that had hit your shared circle of people, not only bringing it to you for free- but offering to stay with you while you tried it for the first time.

He smirks, scoffing when he realizes you’re at a loss for words. “You just keep running your mouth and don’t let me fucking talk. So what is it? Huh??” He asks his hands coming up to either side of your face to cup your jaw and force your neck to crane upwards. “You gonna keep bitching, or are you gonna be nice?” He says, shaking your head back and forth like you were just a dog or something.

You swallow, wanting to hit him or yell at him to get out but the way he looks at you, the crazy stunt he just pulls and his proximity- you simply bite your lip then nod. “I’ll…” your voice comes out hoarse, cracking as you speak. You don’t even get to try again before he’s laughing. “Where’s that bratty attitude of your’s now? Can’t fuckin’ speak now, huh?” He speaks in an amused growl. His hand taps on your cheek in quick succession, “C’mon now, speak up.” He says in a mocking, sing-song voice.

You clear your throat before speaking, “I’ll be nice…” you say softly, “Thank you..” you add. You don’t even have to be asked- you mean it. All these years of wishing. hoping that somehow he’d show some signs of actually caring about you- he finally did it, in his own weird way. He came here late at night to give you gifts you don’t think even your best friends could think of.

He seems to relax some, letting out an annoyed sigh but collecting himself. He already hated that you made him feel all weird- like how he feels he has a heart condition with the way he swears it skips a beat when he hears you laugh or now- when you were just standing up to him, oh so defiantly, and so quickly turning into a deer in headlights, wide eyes looking at him trying to wrap you mind around what’s going on.

It’s cute.

You’re cute.

He lets out a low noise, one that reverberates off his chest and resonates deeply in his throat. He keeps his hand on your jaw, his eyes tracing over your face- pupils blown out- he’s already high. His hand that’s not keeping your face in place comes up to his neck, gripping at the silver chain and pulling it up, hand running down the length of the chain to grip at the large cross locket at the end.

“Now do you want the shit or not?” He hisses, dangling the cross locket in front of your face like a toy. And when you nod, staring at him with a frenzied, wide eyed stare- the grin that spreads across his face is wicked. “Good girl…” he hums, dropping the locker and taking a step closer to you.

He’s standing between your legs as you sit stunned, so close to you that you can smell his cologne and the undertone of the last blunt he smoked- it’s oddly intoxicating. His hand still on your chin forces you to look up at him, almost painfully so, pulling you so your chin is practically touching his stomach.

The best part about this, he thinks- you just let him.

You just let him manipulate you, looking up at him like he was your king who was bestowing you with a royal gift. Your lips are slightly parted, he can feel your heavy breaths against his stomach, and fuck, if it isn’t one of the best ways he’s seen you.

“You’re always so bitchy ya know that?” He chides with a smirk. He stares at you some more, just taking you all in, his thumb moves to run along your bottom lip. “’m not!” You call out at his insult, his eyebrow quirks up as he hears you try to talk back to him. It’s funny how you think it will do anything, given the position you’re in- the position you so compliantly let him move you into.

“Mhm sure…” he lets out in a long drawn out hum, his grasp suddenly becomes harsher, making you let out a whine at pressure, “then what was that dumb fuckin’ stunt you just pulled? Hm?” He says, leaning down, his face inches from yours, teeth clenched and words coming out in terse angered syllables.

“Yelling at me like that…” he says, his grip loosening and his words becoming almost a playful scolding. “S’like no one ever taught you manners.” He says with a pout, his voice soft- almost pitiful. “S’okay…Thanos‘ll teach you…” he says, both his hands coming up to old your face, squishing in your cheeks and shaking your head.

It’s a little unsettling how rapid his emotions seem to change- it should terrify you but you’re not normal…no, the way it puts you on edge and unnerves you only makes a warmth grow in your lower stomach and your thighs press together desperately.

He notices your thighs, pressed together and rubbing against each other- trying to get some sort of relief for the heat that envelops your cunt. It’s a quick movement that has you keeling over in your chair, his hands drop from your face and push your knees apart. “And here you are…” he growls, bringing his face so its level with yours. “…rubbing your thighs together like some bitch in heat when I’m trying to talk to you.” You can’t help the moan that slips out your lips, the absence of the pressure your thighs were creating brings the ache in your cunt to tenfold.

The movement forces you to realize how much he’s effecting you. It brings up years of pent up sexual tension that has your chest heaving and your panties beginning to feel damp. “I-“ you choke on your words, embarrassed at how easily he caught on to you trying to ease the ache in your pussy by squeezing your thighs, “it’s not what you think.”

When the words fall out of your mouth, you know it’s dumb. It’s stupid. Lying through your teeth when you know there’s nothing it’s it could be.

“Oh really?” He says laughing, his hands forcing your legs apart even as they try to fight his grip to try and close. His eyes move from your face to your clothed cunt- shielded by your sweatpants and underwear. “So if I checked right now, your pretty pussy wouldn’t be soakin’ your panties?” He says, moving his face down from being level with yours to being level with the crotch of your pants, laughing at your desperate attempt to hide how needy you really were. You shake your head no.

He laughs. He knows you’re lying….there’s a darkened spot on your sweatpants- there’s no way of hiding it yet you’re still set on lying to keep some sense of pride. How adorable. Despite the two layers of clothes, you can feel his breath and it has you draw in a shuddering breath. “Like I said…someone oughta teach you some manners…don’t you know lyin’s bad sweet girl?” He hums, eyes looking up at you from his spot between your legs.

“So I’ll give you a chance…since it seems you haven’t been fucked good enough…haven’t been set straight.” He rambles on, breath fanning over your covered cunt. You can hardly hear what he’s saying, you can only focus on how good the purple haired male looks between your thighs. “So let’s try again…” he says, placing a kiss directly over your clit that’s hidden by your sweatpants. You jump at the contact, body twitching and hips chasing his mouth. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as your heavy breaths turn into soft whines. “If I checked…and think about this real hard princess..” he says, with a wicked grin, “If I checked, your cunt would be soakin your panties, huh?”

You nod, “Mhm…” you hum through your bit lip. He grins and rewards you with another kiss to your clothed pussy. “Seeee~” he says in a sing song voice “S’not so hard is it?” He’s pulling back, standing back up straight to hover over you.

“Now…you said you want some of this shit?” He says, gripping at the cross locket that you know holds the drug you’ve been desperately wanting to try. “Y-yes…” you respond, he looks at you with a warning glare. “Y-yes please.” You correct yourself.

He nods, hand reaching out to hold your chin, “atta girl, you’re learning.” He hums, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip. “Open up f’me.” He says, and you obey, your mouth opening. He lets out a soft laugh, the hand that was cradling your jaw in its iron grip moves to the back of your head. His fingers entangle themselves in your hair to keep your head right where he wants it. “There you go….” he praises, “Now you’re listening, not so hard is it?” He says with a shit eating grin. His eyes scan you, “Fuck you look good like this…” he says, mumbling through gritted teeth.

He keeps you held there, mouth agape as he moves to grip the cross locket again. With a shaky hand, he opens the locket and dumps two of the colored pills out. You watch on as he closes it, fumbling with it a bit to get it closed back with one hand.

When he drops the chain and locket back down, it falling back on his chest, he pops the two pills in his mouth. “Tongue out.” he commands, his words muffled by the pills he has tucked in his cheek.

You suck in a breath, trying to tell yourself to have some shame- to tell him off and kick him out. But as you intend to move your mouth to yell at him- no words come out- instead you obey. Tongue lolling out of your mouth.

He seems to catch on to the way your mind fights itself- he can see it in the way your eyes dart around, trying to look anywhere but him, to talk yourself out of this. But your eyes return back to him, looking up at him oh so expectantly, and giving in once again- waiting patiently for whatever he has to offer.

He tilts your head back the slightest bit, sucking his teeth. You’re confused at what was going on until a trail of his saliva drops down from his pursed lips. It hit your tongue in a warm wetness, one that you had you letting out a breathy whine, eyes rolling into the back of your head when you taste him. Your tongue sinks back into your mouth, lips closing.

Only when you close your mouth, his spit mixing with yours, do you realize he’s spit one of the pills he had tucked into his cheek, into your mouth. You chew the pill, knowing it will make the effect of the drugs hit you faster.

He hisses, your little sound doing numbers on him. He reaches down with the hand that’s not in your hair to palm his erection. As you watch on, tongue licking your lips and pupils beginning to dilate, he continues- only gripping at his clothed cock harder under your gaze.

The way you can’t figure out what to look at, his face or where his hand fists the tent in his pants has him snapping. He surges forward, and bends down attaching his lips to yours in a frenzied manner.

You whine into his mouth, arms coming up to lace around his neck and pull at the purple baby hairs at the base of his neck. It’s a messy, sloppy clash of lips and teeth.

You’re quick to haul yourself into a standing position, pressing your body against him, fingers pulling at his hair and keeping him bent down. His hands are over you in a feverish haze, trailing under your shirt to grip at your waist. The warmth of his hands makes a jolt run up your spine forcing you to arch into his touch.

His teeth bite down on your bottom lip, pulling at it as he parts to begin yanking your shirt over your head. You step back, pulling it above your head by yourself- you suddenly feel so so hot, like your insides are on fire. When you look back up to him he smirks, grabbing the sides of your head to pull you close to him.

His palms cover your ears, painted nails tangled under your hair as he stares directly into your eyes, when he finds what he’s looking for his grin widens, “You’re starting to feel it, huh? Works quick doesn’t it?” He mumbles in a low voice, he was looking at your eyes.

Your pupils, although you couldn’t see them, were blown out, a sight that only made him want to devour you more. It was like you were a little fawn, looking at him like he was a wild wolf about to strike. You bite your lip, letting out a ‘mhm’ as you nod.

He laughs at your state, his hands moving down the sides of your neck over to your arms- running the tips of his fingers down your skin. He continues, looking down on you as his colorful nails trace along the swell of your tits, running over the top of your bra before ghosting his thumbs over your nipples hidden behind the lace fabric of your bra.

It was insane how pleasurable it felt. Just a simple touch has you keening over, falling into his chest with heaving breaths. It felt like his fingers electrocuted you in waves that only helped to force syrupy drips of arousal out of your cunt and into your panties.

“Heh…yeah it’s working.” He mocks his hand cradling your back, running up your spine until he reaches the back of your bra, doing it with an expertise that should make you uneasy- he’s had to do that many times before- but you just pull away and try to hurriedly shove the straps off your shoulders and pulling the fabric off.

He wants to mock you, degrade you for being so easy, so shameless- but when he finally sees the tits he’s been dreaming about for years, his mouth is watering. He’s back on you like lightning. Hands reaching up to massage the flesh in his palms. “Fuck…I knew you’d have a perfect set of tits on you…fuckin picturesque.” He rumbles, eyes transfixed on how the flesh of your breasts spills out between the spaces of his fingers when he squeezes harder.

“F-feels s-so fucking good..” you whine out it’s raised at the end, like you’re questioning how you can be this worked up with him fondling your tits. He bits his lip and nods, “Awh I know sweetheart…” He coos, a pout forming on his face that you know isn’t sincere. “…see the thing about this drug here that you were so eager to take…without asking what the trip is like I may add…”

He says, like you’re some dumb girl new to the drug scene- you weren’t. Far from it. But he did have a point. You just heard about how good the trip was, not what made it so good.

One of his hands drops from your breast to wrap his arm around your waist caging you into him. The hand that was still attached to your breast moves to pinch your nipple, pulling at it, “…it’s main highlight isn’t the visuals like the shit you’re used to doing…” He begins to talk again, smiling at how you twitch against him, “’s the feeling of euphoria it gives you when you’re getting fucked stupid. Makes every touch so so so…” he repeats, every ‘so’ he’s pulling harder at your nipple, “so much better..” he finishes finally releasing your nipple, eyes trained on the way your breast falls back against your chest with a lewd jiggle.

You can only pant against him, hands gripping at his shirt and nodding helplessly. You want his clothes off. You want to feel him against you. You whine, pulling your head off his chest to stare up at him, tugging at his shirt like some needy puppy.

“Manners slut. C’mon. Haven’t even touched you properly and you’re already too fucked out to speak?! Tell me what you want..” He scolds in a degrading, it’s so mean and debauched, like he’s looking down on you for not being able to contain yourself and the feelings that this new drug gives you. But fuck, it just makes your cunt throb.

“P-please, wanna feel you. ‘S not fair, I don’t have a shirt on.” You say, defiantly, hands pulling at the hem of his shirt. He scoffs, as cock-drunk as you seem and as fucked out as the drugs make you- you’re still your firey self, always talking back.

“When have you ever seen me play fair.” He says with a laugh, quirking up an eyebrow- he was right up until the cash he brought you tonight he would play you out new beats despite the many he had yet to pay you for. His hands reach down and capture your hands, both wrists engulfed by his tattooed hand. “I’ll humor you this one time since you’re so desperate…” he says with a chuckle, releasing your hands and pulling his shirt over his head.

He was toned, well built, a brick of a man really. His baggy jeans hung low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers visible. A truly delicious sight. You stand there, stunned and mouth agape, eyes trailing to the defined ‘V’ of his hips. At the visual in front of you your body seems to become even hotter than before- your face flushing pink, your thighs rubbing together and your pussy practically weeping.

He pulls you back into him, your tits pressed against his bare chest, mewling at the warm sensation that envelopes your nipples. You two meet in a mess of tongue and lips again, his tongue immediately entering into your mouth, spinning around yours in a sloppy dance. One of his hands slips between the two of you, maneuvering under your sweatpants and panties, immediately petting at your sopping pussy.

At his touch you both moan into each other’s mouth’s. You nearly sob out when his finger parts your folds, collecting your thick wetness on his fingers- brushing over your clit. He can help but growl into the kiss feeling just how wet you are, it makes something primal in him snap.

He’s spinning you around and pushing you onto the couch he was on when he first arrived. It has you crying out in surprise as you land on the leather. He’s wasting no time, gripping at the waistband of your pants and panties, pulling them down and off your legs.

You feel so bare and vulnerable in front of him. Shirt and bra long gone, legs spread and pussy on display for him as he looms over you still in his jeans. He’s dropping to his knees, hands gripping at your ankles to force your heels up onto the couch. It surges you forward, allowing him to place his large hands on the backs of your thighs and push them back.

He observes your cunt with a wicked devilish gaze. You’re already red and puffy, so worked up and he had only barely started. Your arousal is a mess between the back of your thighs, dripping down your ass. He thinks he’s in heaven.

“Such a fuckin’ slut…” he muses, hands sliding down your thighs, thumbs moving to spread you nice n’ wide for him. “Already so sloppy just from a little pill and groping.” He says, his voice degrading as he emphasizes his words by rubbing his thumbs up the sides of your pussy, meeting at your clit before circling back down to spread you open.

Even this is almost too much, your face is flushed, hand over your mouth as you try to keep yourself for sobbing out in pleasure at such little stimulation, and thighs already threatening to close, twitching back against his hands. “Oh no, sweetheart…” he says, sitting up a little, hovering over you as he forces your legs open and back, your knees touching the back of the couch where your back rests, “None of that. You wanted to act all big n bad and take that pill, you wanted to tease me and work me up by yelling at me, so you’re gonna take whatever I fuckin’ give you….”

You’re about to retort, tell him you yelled at him because he pissed you off but you’re cut off by his tongue flattening against your pussy, licking a long slow stripe up to your clit. He stops, bringing his tongue into his mouth and fully tasting you.

You don’t know how, but his pupils seem to dilate even more, a low chuckle coming from his throat. “Now I knew you had to have good pussy….” He drawls on, leaning back in to your cunt to repeat the same action, this time making an obscene slurping sound- collecting as much as your arousal as he can before pulling away and swallowing. “But this sweet cunt…even better than what I could have imagined all those times I’ve beat my dick to the thought of fucking you on my tongue.”

There he goes, rambling on in the most raunchy way he can. You can hardly wrap your mind around the pleasure you’re feeling now, the situation you’ve found yourself in- let alone the idea that he seemed to have masturbated frequently to multiple ideas of you.

He’s back on your cunt, tongue dancing through your folds. And he’s messy. It’s a crazed, hungry effort that seems to have no real rhythm. You’re embarrassed by the wet, slurping sounds that come as he eats you like a man starved. His eyes are closed and he’s shaking his head into your pussy like a dog, literally bathing in the syrupy juices that continually flow out of your pussy.

Your hand reaches down, gripping at his purple hair, hips grinding down, trying to chase his tongue with your throbbling clit anytime he slips it back down to your weeping hole. His eyes dart open and the view of him, cat like eyes peering at you through thick lashes, mouth buried in your messy cunt. You moan out what you want to be his name, but it comes out as babbled breathy syllables.

He fights your grip, pulling back with an evil grin. His mouth and chin are covered in your arousal as he stares down at you, “What you want more? ‘S not enough for your needy cunt is it?” He hums, his tattooed fingers coming up to play with your pussy.

He’s just running his fingers through your folds, smearing the creamy liquid that gushes out of your cunt, grin widening as he watches white sticky webs collect between your folds, pulling apart anytime he plays with your pussy. “‘S not enough, I know it isn’t…you need more don’t you….practically cryin f’me.”

Your eyes widen, one finger circling your entrance, collecting a drop of your arousal before bringing it up to his lips. He makes a show of licking it up. It’s when it hits you- he’s not even taking to you. He’s talking to your pussy. The realization making you writhe and whimper, hips twitching trying to find any sort of stimulation.

“Poor thing….so neglected. Probably have had a good fuckinf’ in a long while, hm?” He coos at your cunt, lowering his face back to be level with your shining entrance. “S’okay Thanos will help you out….” He mumbles, placing a kiss to your clit. His arms wrap around your thigh, dragging you impossibly closer to his mouth.

You hate that he’s right, it’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone let alone been fucked on some sex enhancing pill that also has you high out of your mind. It only just makes you so much more receptive to his touches- like you haven’t been touched in a millennia. Like his touches are that of pure bliss, a tangible heavenly experience that will definitely ruin you for any other man who try’s to get with you.

It’s so much at once. It has you seeing colors you didn’t even think existed. You can’t even think straight, only babbling out praises like he’s your savior. His tongue is all over you, working up to flick lightly at your clot before wrapping his soft lips around it, sucking into his mouth. You can feel yourself dirty the leather of the couch under you, the wetness pooling under your thighs and ass.

He moans into your cunt, pulling away to stare at your raw pussy, licking his lips clean of your taste. Then he’s spitting directly on your clit, the warm saliva hitting your cunt in a messy spatter that leaves a warm hot trail anywhere it touches. It is so fucking filthy, scratching desires in you that you never knew you had. It has you crying out a babbled string of pleas for him to put his mouth back on you.

He laughs, taking in your needy state, pussy covered in his saliva, puffy and red, begging for more. His tongue delves back into you. It’s a viscous onslaught of licks and sucks that has you convulsing and creaming around his tongue.

His tongue makes its way down to your sopping hole, circling your entrance before thrusting itself into your walls. It’s a heavenly feeling, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and your back arching up off the couch.

His tongue fucked you ravenously, like you were the last meal he’d ever consume. His fingers are squeezing your thighs so hard you know there’s going to be circle shaped bruises once he removes his hands.

“Oh god..” you whine out, it’s a pathetic shuddering sound that only makes him laugh against your cunt, your moans and words only making him pull you down onto him. He’s so fucking messy. It’s something straight out of a porno, you’re sure of it. He’d pull back every so often to spit in your cunt to only go right back to fucking his tongue into your walls- drinking up his spit and every bit of your creamy arousal.

It’s so good. Too good. You want to push off the blooming heat that begins to swell deep in your cunt, to drag this out, but you can’t. You’re sitting up, hands trying to dig into the leather couch, trying to ground yourself.

You’re moaning out pathetic pleas of “‘s too much” and “more, more, more”. Your cunt is erratically spasming against his fingers, you know you’re getting close.

“Gonna cum all over my face, huh girlie?” He muses up at you, words muffled against your pussy. His fingers don’t let up, curling up into your tight walls with fervor. You’re gushing around him, anytime his fingers push into you they come out covered by even more of your thick arousal. “Want you to make a mess f’me.” He continues on.

You nod, biting your lip and entangling your fingers into his hair. “OhmygodOhmygod-“ your voice comes out in a high pitched mess of words, shaking against his tongue. The feeling of your orgasm beginning to build inside you is almost too much. It’s never felt like this, it’s an almost violent insatiable itch, one you’re chasing even though you feel so sensitive to the point it almost hurts. You’re almost scared of the orgasm that’s building up in you.

“Yeahhhh…that’s it’s, you got it sweet thing.” His words seep into your ears like the sweetest melody, “Needa have you cummin’ on my face.” He says, almost begging for you to allow him such an honor. His words spur you in to not shying away from the feeling. All you can think of is how badly you want to cum and how badly you want to please him.

His fingers rapidly pump in and out of you, every motion beginning to let off a wet sloshing sound. You sob out, looking down to watch on as his tongue flicks over your clit and fingers slam into your cunt. “H-holy fuck I’m g-gonna… oh fuck…I’m gonna cum!” You cry out.

You hear a growl in response from the man between your thighs, a low primal, no, a feral sound that vibrates off your clit. It sends you over the edge, your hurled to your orgasm before you can even realize it.

It has you seeing starts, sobbing out a mix of his name and obscenity’s as you cum. And you cum hard. You can hear it gush out of you like a fountain, soaking his face and chest. The slurping sounds he’s been making only becoming louder, like he’s drinking glacier water after being stuck in a desert.

Your head falls back onto the back of the couch, your hand forcing his head still with a strength that surprises not you and him. Your hips grind in helpless jerking motions as you continue to cum, his fingers stroking your walls and beckoning every last drop of your cum out of you.

He pulls back slowly, fingers pulling out of you, his breath coming out in heavy pants. You come back down, breath still catching in your throat as you try to regain your breath. Your eyes open to finally see the extent of the mess you made.

His chest, chin and mouth is covered in your glistening arousal. He’s sucking your cum off his fingers and just staring at you with a shit eating grin. “I-I just…” your voice trails off, genuinely surprised at what just transpired. It has never happened before.

“Squirted?” He finishes your sentence while he pops his fingers out of his mouth. “Yeah, I know princess.” He says in a low mocking tone as he leans over you, pulling you into a kiss. It’s slow, methodical, he’s making sure you taste yourself.

He pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you. He collects it with his thumb, puts his digit to your lips and nods approvingly as you take it into your mouth. “You oughta get used to it. Gonna be happening a lot with me.” He mused.

In a quick motion his thumb is pull from your lips. He’s standing back, eyes trained on your fucked out form as he begins to remove his pants. He kicks them off into the corner of your studio, his boxers soon following.

When you finally see the cock that was causing the huge tent in his pants, you’re at a loss for words. He’s girthy, long, and he’s got a mean upwards curve. It stands attention, pre-cum leaking from the fat cock-head. He moves his hand across your pussy quickly, the motion making your body jolt. His hand then wraps around his length, twisting his wrist up and down his dick with the help of your cum.

He’s sitting down next to you on the couch, reaching over and pulling your limp form onto his lap, his fist still working around his dick.

“Haven’t broken you completely have I?” He mocks, staring on as you watch his fist squeeze his angry red tip before moving down his shaft. Even though you know you’re overly sensitive, all you can think about is how his cock would feel deep inside you. “N-no, ‘m not broken, want your cock inside me s’bad.” Your words are slurred, you can’t even believe the sentence you said- usually you’d have more shame.

But fuck did that little pill he gave you have your body already working itself up, cunt pulsing around nothing in anticipation for the fucking you were about to get. He lets out a low chuckle, his fist releasing his dick. It hits your stomach with a hefty ‘plap’ sound.

You look down, biting your lip when you see his cock resting against your stomach, the swollen tip resting just below your navel. You suck in a breath, relaxing just how deep he will be. “Gonna be able to take it, princess?” He mumbles, pressing a thumb against his cock, pushing it further against your stomach, the hot thick skin of his cock pressing into the flesh. “See how deep I’m gonna be?” He questions, eyes trained on his cock against your stomach, imagining what it’s going to feel like to be balls deep in your tight cunt.

You just nod in let out a hiccuped moan, canting your hips forward to try and brush your clit against the underside of his cock. “Imma take it…I can, I promise.” You pout, raising your hips the smallest bit and gripping the base of his thick length.

When your hand wraps around the length and your fingers don’t touch, you realize fully what you’re getting yourself into. “Go on then…you said you could take it.” He says, a shit eating grin on his face as he sees your concern in your face- how was he going to fit.

He shifts back on the couch, spreading his legs more and looking down at where you run his leaking cock head through your dripping folds. He bites his lip and lets out a muffled groan as he feels your wetness immediately begin soaking his length.

“Mhm…there you go.” He says, arms thrown languidly behind his head, watching you with dark eyes as you begin to sink down onto his cock. You cry out when his bulbous head slips past the tight ring of your cunt. His head throws itself back a sigh slipping past his lips as he feels your walls squeeze around him, enveloping his cock head in a warmth he never wants to leave.

“That was jus’ the tip, come on you can take more. Like you said you can take it all..and we’ve already gone over how lyin’s bad pretty girl.” He says using your own words against you, and that seems to spur you on, sinking deeper onto him.

You finally drop down, your hips connecting with his pelvis, his tip kissing your cervix. You let out a sob of his name. He lets out a porn worthy moan his hands immediately darting down to grip at your hips in a bruising strength, keeping you still.

He swears he might cum then and there. Being buried balls deep in your tight cunt, your arousal spilling out on his pelvis, it’s better than he could have imagined.

And he’s imagined it. More times than he can count.

“F-fuck you’re so god damn tight…” he hisses out, head dropping back forward so he can look at you. Your lips are dropped open, eyebrows upturned, eyes watering from just how full you feel. “O-oh my god…” you mumble out looking down to where you two connect.

It’s shameful how much your arousal has already dirtied his pelvis and your inner thighs with a milky white sheen. With the drugs in your system you can feel every inch of him in ways you didn’t even think was possible. Your hands are braced on the strong muscles of his abdomen, your breasts heaving with every shuddering breath you take as you try to accommodate his thick cock into your cunt.

“‘S big isn’t it?” He boasts, quirking up an eyebrow, a cat like grin on his face. The way you’re already fucked out he’s so composed makes you whine, nodding your head. When you finally move your hips the slightest bit and clench around him you’re rewarded with the sight of him breaking the slightest bit. He lets out a breathy sound, almost a choked whine. Hell, he’s also tripping ass on the same drugs you were- even if this isn’t his first time like you, it still has his nerves on fire. He can feel every clench and spasm of your pussy around his cock. Every drop of arousal that seeps out around him, he can feel it before it even comes out of you, feeling it swell in the depths of your cunt- being forced out by the intrusion of his thick length and trickling down the top of his cock, down the length of it, eventually dripping out along his pelvis.

“Your pussy feels s’good baby- fuck- c’mon get to work, use those hips” He says, looking at you with a hooded gaze, lip caught between his teeth- hands still resting behind his head. You take in a large breath, lifting up your hips only a bit. The drag of his cock along your walls is deliciously sinful. You know you’re fucked- figuratively and literally. No man is ever going to make you feel this good.

You repeat the motion, not even lifting half way up his dick before dropping back down. It’s so much. “Ohhh…” he hums in a low locking tone, “you can do so much better than that.” He growls, it’s harsh, you know it’s a demand.

You situate yourself better on his lap, leaning forward on him, arching your back, and placing your hands in the in the spaces his arms leave on either side of his head and resting them against the back of the couch.

When you begin to move your hips, this time guiding them expertly up and down the entire length of his cock it doesn’t take long until his hands come to grip at your ass. He’s growling, restraining himself from thrusting up into you and taking over- truly ruining your pussy.

His hands are splayed open-palmed on your ass, moving with the flesh that recoils anytime you connect back down onto his lap, his swollen cock-head kissing your cervix. “Fucking hell!” He laughs out, it’s laced with a frenzied growl- like this was he’s been waiting for all the years he’s known you.

He’s no stranger to looking at your ass. Watching as the flesh jiggles when you wear those thin pajama pants that you wore when he came to pay you late, watching as you bend over to fix some cord in your set up or even the one time he was at the same party you were- being graced with the visual of you shaking your ass playfully against one of your friends.

But this? Fuck this was so much better than watching you.

“Mhm…” he moans, nodding his head as you look at him in a fucked-out haze, a moaning mess as you continue to ride him. “This fucking ass…” he growls through gritted teeth, hands gripping the flesh in a rough grasp, “Always knew you’d know how to ride cock like a good whore.” He spits out, one of his hands coming into contact with your ass- a sharp sting that has you meaning out his name. “You know how many times I had to beat my shit to the visual of your ass bouncing against me like this?”

His words are filthy. Raunchy. You’re sure if he kept talking you could cum right now. You surge forward, capturing his lips in yours. He swallows each of your moans greedily-lips messily moving with yours. Your tongue dance in a sloppy manner that has spit trailing down your tongue.

You continue to bounce on his cock, crying out into his mouth. Anytime you lift your hips up there’s a wet, sticky sound that resonates throughout your music studio. He pulls away from the kiss, his hands coming up to hold your face, keeping your face close by his. His eyes flutter close and a shuddering breath comes out of his lips as he feels your ass bounce against him more fervently now that his hands aren’t holding the plump flesh in place. He opens his eyes, letting out a low growl, his hands gripping your face, tighten the slightest bit. “Fuckin’ look at you…taking all of me…’s fuckin’ deep isn’t it?” He chides, it’s a degrading mocking tone that has your eyebrows turning up as you nod.

“Mhm s-so fuckin’ deep ohmygoddd.” You cry out in response, leaning back the slightest bit and reaching your arms behind you, placing your hands on his knees as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock. He bites his lip, eyes trained on where you two connect. Watching with blown out pupils how your cunt continuously gushes around him, adding to the white ring that’s forming at the base of his cock.

“So fuckin messy…” he coos, one of his hands coming down to rub his thumb across your clit. You let out a high pitched sound- almost like a squeak- at the sudden added stimulation. “Ohhh…” he groans, his thumb circling your puffy clit, “…that was a cute sound.” he growls in praise. His thumb and pointer finger begin to rub up and down the edges of your cunt, tracing the outline of where his cock is splitting you open.

You continue to raise and lower your hips, circling them and spearing yourself on his thick cock. “‘M stretchin’ you out baby…” he hisses, the image he’s one he swears is the most beautiful sight he’s seen- your cunt gaped obscenely wide, squeezing his dick, leaking more and more creamy arousal everytime you drop your hips onto his lap.

You feel your thighs ache, but the way his cock effortlessly hits your g-spot each time you slam down has you continuing your motions, letting out pathetic whines in protest. He chuckles, his hand that’s still resting behind his head comes down to smack your ass.

You moan out, falling forward on his chest, your hips gyrating desperately. “Oh c’mon, can’t do it no more? I gotta do everything for you?” He says in a degrading, mocking tone. Both his hands find purchase on your ass, gripping and massaging the flesh. You whine and writhe against him, making feeble attempts to keep riding him- but your thighs just ached too much and he was making you feel so full.

“P-please…” you whine out, your head in the crook of his neck, breath fanning the skin, every moan and whine right under his ear. “Awhhh now you’re begging?!” He says with a chuckle, beginning to bounce his legs, it’s not enough but it bullies his pulsating cock further into you. “Not even ridin’ me that long sweetheart…I’m gonna fucking ruin you..” he says, laughing at how fucked stupid you already were.

“F-fuuuck” you moan out in a sinful song as you twitch against him, “you’re so big, it’s so much…” you babble against his flesh.

He hums, his hands on your ass beginning to guide your hips up and down his cock, a sob wracks through your esophagus as you’re closer to what you finally need, “And yet here you are…” he growls, “creaming all over my cock and taking it.” He says beginning to thrust upwards into the warm velvety walls of your cunt. “S’not too much” he says, thrusting up hard into you, it makes a raunchy squelching sound, pushing more of your syrupy arousal onto his pelvis “…you can take it, you’re a big girl.” He says, every word is punctuated by a thrust and echoed by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

You cry out, your hands raking across his shoulders leaving blooming red stripes in their wake. You can hear him growling, it’s a primal low rumble that reverberates through his chest as he fucks up into you. It’s a brutal, rough pace that continues to speed up with each thrust.

You let out a surprised squeak when he grips your ass harder and stands up. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders his hands holding you up by your ass. His hands lifting you up and dropping you down on his cock like you’re a ragdoll.

It makes his dick reach places you never thought would have been possible. You’re completely speared on his cock, your sopping wet cunt only aiding him in dragging you along his veiny length.

“Fuck!” You cry out pathetically, tears beginning to water in your eyes, it felt so. fucking. good. “Mhmmm…” he says biting his lip and nodding, “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.” He says with a chuckle. The deep thrust of his cock and his words are brutal. Mean.

“And you’re gonna let me…cause you love it.” He hisses, hands never letting up on splitting you on his cock. Your face tells him all he needs to know, your eyebrows are turned up, your lips parted and tongue lolled out, drooling down your chin. “Yeaaahhhh you do…” he coos, mockingly.

His cock bullies its way into your cunt, pushing past your sparking walls to kiss your cervix with the head of his cock. “You’re fucking squeezing me sweetheart..” he chokes out, “pussy’s fuckin addicting.” He adds, looking down to watch how your cunt slides up and down his cock, leaving streaks of milky white arousal arcross the expanse of his girth.

“Messy fuckin’ cunt, just fuckin creamin all over me.” He babbles, you can tell with the way his thrusts were speeding up, slamming you down even harder, that he was close to cumming. And you were too.

“Want you to squirt on my cock..make more of a mess f’me. You can do that, yeah?” He growls, looking back up to you and you nod furiously, “mhm, please- oh my god- ‘m so close.” You whine out, words cut off by heaving cries.

“Touch yourself.” He orders, “let me see how you play with yourself.” You obey, a shaky hand releasing itself from his shoulder to rub circles on your clit. Your fingers slip lower, feeling just how much he has you stretched out before returning up to your clit.

Your fingers draw figure eights, working in sporadic movements to push you further to the edge. You look up at him through lashes that were clumped with tears. You feel like you’re floating, it’s such a delicious pleasure that you know you’ll dream of for days to come.

“C’mon princess…” he growls, hands slamming you down brutally as his hips thrust up. Every movement makes a raunchy sticky sound, anytime he drives his cock deep inside you it makes the same wet sloshing sound as before- you’re so close. “Cum f’me, princess, wet my cock.” He growls, his thrusts becoming sloppy, impaling you down onto his dick.

“Fuck ‘m gonna…” your breath is heaving “I’m gonna cum,ohmygodfuckfuck!!” You scream out, fingers swirling over your clit in rapid movements to drive you over the edge. A sob wracks through your body and with a silent cry of his name you cum.

It’s a violent gush of clear liquid, spraying out of your cunt and flowing down his cock, covering his pelvis and even dripping onto the carpeted floor. When he feels it, head snapping down to watch your cum flow out of you, your hand still moving frantically against your clit and spraying your cum around- he breaks.

He cums deep inside you. You can feel every thick rope paint your insides. You both let out strangled moans, the feeling of cumming deep inside your warm cunt is a heavenly feeling that has Choi Su-bong’s eyes rolling into the back of his head.

He thrusts you two lazily through your orgasms, each push of his cock into your cunt forces globs of his cum out and around his length. He slows to a hault, his hands moving up to wrap around your back pulling you flush to his chest.

He slowly backs up and when the back of his knees hit your couch, he sits back down. You both moan at the movement, his softening dick thrusting back up into your over sensitive pussy. “Shhh I know…” he says, shushing you, hands reaching up to brush back your messy hair.

“Did so good f’me.” He coos, smiling up at you. You’re still in a haze, leaning into his hands and nodding. “Fucked you stupid, did I? You can still speak can’t you?” He jokes, you laugh, swatting weakly at his chest. “Made me squirt twice…and I didn’t even know I could do that…so yeah I’m a lil tired, sue me.” You bite back playfully.

He lets out a loud laugh, hands dropping down to your hips. “There she is….there’s the bratty lil producer I know.” He says with a grin, you roll your eyes in response. “Well we’re gonna see if we can make it at least 6 times.”

Your eyes shoot open, “W-what?!” You asked incredulously. He smirks hands beginning to massage your hips.

“Another thing about that lil pill I gave you…” he says, his eyes looking down to where you two meet, it’s a mess of his and your cum, a delicious sight, “it also helps with stamina.” He says, his thumb brushing over your clit.

And you realize he’s right, with that one touch your body is ignited again, your hips starting grind against him- proving he’s right. You’re ready to go again.

This was gonna be a long night.

hiiiii lovelies!! I hope you enjoyed this lil one-shot. I literally just had my mind FIXATED on gettin’ fucked up and fucked by this man 😩

ALSO I MADE IT TO 100 FOLLOWERS?!!! THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!? I’m off work for the week soon and I have some really exciting plans coming up as a thanks for 100 friends!!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[writing-mlm]

We’re alike… aren’t we?

Summary: Jason gets help getting bandaged after being stabbed, you get help after your fear of needles stops you from taking your HRT Pairing: Jason Todd & Trans!reader Wc: 960 tags/warnings: gender neutral reader, can be nb/ftm/mtf, stitching jason up, taking HRT, mentions of being tortured, trans blues, no romance but can be seen as such

based on a tiktok by @/blood_converse

—

Jason doesn’t understand why you stay around even after everything he’s done. You know his past, you know his present, and for fucks sake you probably see where his future is heading. But fuck, you’re still there. You’re still letting him in at one in the morning after he crashed through your window for the millionth time that month, all with open arms. 

You’re still giving him the good blanket because it’s the middle of winter and his suit isn’t all that good at keeping him warm. You’re still lowering the music because he’s bordering on a concussion. You’re still staring at him as if he isn’t a serial killer, crime lord, zombie!

He doesn’t understand that you get it. 

In your own way, of course. 

You know what it’s like having a family that mourns you even though you’re right in front of them. You know what it’s like to feel as if you’re in the wrong body, missing parts that you’ll probably never get no matter how hard you work because it’s not the same. It just isn’t. You understand all too well what it’s like when your family looks at you, not looking at the adult you’ve grown into but the child they once had. The child you can no longer be. The adult that cannot bear to accept because it’s not what they had in mind for you. 

You know what it’s like to be set aside, to be considered wrong. 

You both don’t like mirrors, broken enough that you’ve gotten bad luck for the next three lifetimes. You both get nervous when getting intimate with partners because what if they think your bodies are gross? You’ve both gotten fucked over by your fathers. 

“Did you take your shot?” He asks as you hand him a water bottle and a pill for his pain. 

“No,” You sigh, looking away from him. “I chickened out again.” He doesn’t laugh, but you see the twinkle in his eyes as he takes the pill without the water chaser. He still drinks it, though. It’s non-contaminated water, it’s like the holy grail for fucks sake. 

“Get it, I'll do it.” It’s no use putting up a fuss, he’d just get up and find it himself. Besides, you could really use the help. The needle thing still freaks you out and your insurance is moving slow to move you to something better like gel or auto injections things. 

When you return, he’s washing his hands and putting on a pair of gloves. Not to mention in one of his shirts he keeps at your place, something about having too many germs on his clothes to be next to medical equipment. He’s forgotten pants, you note. Probably because he’s bleeding from his outer thigh. 

“I’ll get the medkit,” Setting your box of HRT supplies on the coffee table, you ignore his protest. Getting the kit you’d gotten after the first time he crashed at yours needing medical attention but refusing to go to a hospital or Bruce’s. Which, for the record, is more often than you care to think about.

When you return he’s sitting on your floor, a small pool of blood collecting on his discarded shirt. You replace it with an old towel and clean the spot. He doesn’t wince, but you see his thigh tense as you wipe the area and begin stitching him up. He’s used to getting stitched up, it hardly affects him these days unless it’s a bad wound. Thankfully this is a small stab wound, it’ll heal in under a week if he doesn’t open the stitches. And he probably will at some point. 

“All done,” Grinning at your work, you wrap it in bandages and then put a pin to secure it. He’ll check on it once he can but he trusts your handy work, it hasn’t failed him yet. 

“Your turn,” He says when you remove your own set of latex gloves. You wince at the idea but begrudgingly let him do it. He moves you to the couch, lifting your shirt enough that he can see your stomach and has you hold it up. You do, knuckles pressing against your skin so much your hand starts to shake.

“You’re a lot better at stitching me up and putting a needle in your stomach,” He humors you as he’s grabbing an alcohol wipe, eyes flickering up to yours. He cleans the vile first, carefully setting it on the table when he’s done. 

“You try getting tortured by needles,” You mutter, blinking down at his hand as he wipes the area. It’s cold against your skin, even more so when he fans it for a second. “Fucking hate Joker,” 

“Don’t we all,” He grabs the bottle and a 1-millimeter syringe that makes you inhale and look away. “You’re good, you got this,” He mutters with his attention mostly on drawing the liquid into the syringe with a careful eye. He switches the needle before checking for air bubbles and pinches at your skin once he’s sure it’s perfect.

“Ready?” He asks. “You can squeeze my shoulder.” You can only muster a nod as you prepare yourself. He works slowly, watching as he carefully slides the needle into your stomach and then watches your face as he slowly injects it. He doesn’t like it when he helps you; the panic in you makes his stomach hurt but he also doesn’t want you to not take your HRT or have a panic attack trying to do it yourself. 

He pulls the needle out and wipes away the drop of blood before putting on a bandaid. 

“All done.” He smiles, snapping his gloves off. You drop your shirt with a sigh, running your hands over your face as you relax.

[penvisions]

dev writes even more now {dave york drabble}

working title: work conduct

pairing: dave york x coworker! reader

summary: you're just his coworker, so why does he feel compelled to unravel all your secrets?

word count: 1k<

a/n: in honor of being told my writing is terrible and i need to stop pushing an 'agenda' here's a little thing i wrote to get out of my head. this is a new character for me, but i'm proud of the vibes i captured here.

-> navigation

He's good at reading people. Figuring out who they are in the spaces where words and titles can't fill. The habits they exhibit when they first get into the office for the morning, whether they immediately go to the breakroom to start a coffee or exchange morning pleasantries with coworkers. the habits they exhibit in the afternoons when the work day is done, if they linger about talking to the same people as in the morning or if they quickly pack up their stuff and rush off to their cars in the parking garage.

But for the life of him, Dave York cannot get a read on you.

You're not...fake, per se. But he sees the way your smile drops when you turn away from a conversation or how your voice drops an octave when you hang up a phone call. He tracks the coffee you have in the morning, the water you sip on all day long, and the diet soda you always have after lunch. He never actually witnesses you eating lunch, but he knows your energy perks up a bit after the hour you disappear for in the middle of each day.

It reminds him of how his daughters both find their high-pitched, excited voices after a good breakfast shoved into frowny faces.

The thought brings a smile to his face as he watches you press your ID badge to the sensor to be let in the door through the thick glass wall. The office is on an upper floor, blocked off from the general public that can access the building.

You look up right then, catching his eyes and the smile you give him is dazzling. He blinks, slightly taken aback by the bright expression and then your heels are clacking on the gleaming tile as you head in his direction. Just as you cross over onto the thin carpet that cushions area of cubicles, a loud snap sounds into the air.

Both your smile and leg buckle downwards at the same time.

He's moving quickly, instincts firing on the highest setting at all times. His arms circle around your waist and the thigh of leg donning the now broken shoe. He's got you tugged close to his body, dark eyes gazing down at you as the scent of your perfume wafts over him. Cirtus and rose swirls in his lungs and his fingers curl into your skin where he holds you.

"Easy now."

"Who knew a meet cute like this was on the agenda for today?" Your voice is sultry, paired with a wink that has him taken aback for the second time in as many minutes. Your nails dig into the front of his dress shirt, startling in how they catch the light and shift from what he initially thought was black to a dark, deep red.

"Gotta say, I don't think I warrant the whole 'falling at your feet' display." His voice is slightly raspy, the pitch of it reverberating deep on his chest.

"Alright, Agent York. Because that was totally planned." You huff out a breath as you begin to push off of him. Your nails sliding over the fabric that guards his middle from the smooth feel of them. It's a hobble that you do, one hand firmly gripping his shoulder as you lean down to take the broken heel off of your raised foot.

He gets more of that intoxicating scent as your hair brushes underneath his chin as you remove the other, still intact heel as well.

"Aw, hell. Looks like it's completely snapped." He watches as you inspect it with a sad tilt of your head and of course his fingers twitch to reach out and see if he could fix it for you.

to be continued...

taglist: @evolnoomym @clawdee @guiltyasdave

[priceoftheduchess]

bite at the hand that feeds

john price x southern dentist!reader

cw) intimate, fluff, john price being a charming bastard, op is not a dentist! :P, this is not proofread!!, smut adjacent!

inspired by @rosegolden13’s dentist!reader fic!

Walking into your waiting room after doing a children’s cleaning to find a large, rugged man sitting in a chair reading a magazine was not really on today’s bingo card. Reading your chart, you see his name — or what must be his name — among others.

“John Price?”

He stands. Bingo! He stands, and Jesus Christ, why is he so large?

He’s dwarfing you as he follows you to the little room you work in, and you’re not even really sure he can fit in it. He’s casual but sophisticated all the same. A navy button down, unbuttoned at the top to accommodate him and the sleeves rolled up. Some jeans and a simple pair of worn work boots. His hair is all around peppered with grey hairs and he honestly looks delicious.

You smile at him as you slip into some new gloves and grab yourself a fresh surgical mask.

“Go ahead and sit down, and get comfortable for me,” You instruct him. You have the sweetest little Southern belle accent and he’s positively all over it.

“Yes ma’am,” his voice is gruff and British? Why is he here?

“You ain’t from here, is you?” You ask him softly, and he shakes his head with a lazy smile.

“No, ma’am. Herefordshire, originally. Meeting with some associates down here in Texas, and realized this mornin’ I’d chipped a tooth somewhere down the line.” He explains, and now you actually see it. One of his teeth behind his canines, chipped at the point.

“Poor baby,” you joke softly at him. “Open up and let me check that out for you. I’ll also offer you a free cleaning, if that’s something you’re interested in.” He nods, giving you another smile that melts your heart.

He opens his mouth after you clip a piece of thin fabric over his shirt. You gently poke around his mouth with your fingers and inspect the chipped tooth.

“I’m goin’ to wiggle it, sugar. I need you to tell me if it hurts or not.” You explain and he nods. You gently move the tooth back and forth and he shakes his head.

“Good, that means there’s very minor damage.” You smile softly and sterilize some tools to begin filling in the tooth. “You ain’t got no clue on how you done this?” You ask, even though you’re actively in his mouth, and he shrugs.

You finish the tooth quite quickly. “All good. You want me to clean your teeth while you’re here? Free of charge.” He smiles and nods.

“Yes ma’am.” You smile and continue working, gently drilling away at some plaque and checking the general health of the rest of his teeth.

“I’m goin’ to floss your teeth now. This can get kinda invasive, especially with the back teeth, so fair warning.”

He chuckles gruffly. “Ain’t nothin’ invasive when you’re as gorgeous as you are.” He remarks, almost nonchalantly, and you feel your face heat up, thankful for your mask.

“You hush. I done told you I ain’t goin’ to charge you for the cleanin’,” you shake your head, preparing a strand of floss. “No need to butter me up, sweet pea.” And he chuckles again, a hearty, gruff sound that warms your entire body.

You finish the cleaning, catching yourself smiling at his earlier comment and when you’re done, he sits up slowly and rolls his shoulders back while you remove the bib.

“Thanks, dove.” He says and he runs his tongue over his teeth, way too sensual for your professionalism. You trash your gloves and your used mask.

“Feel good?” You ask and he nods with a wink.

“Yes ma’am. Now, why don’t I get you some dinner while I’m still in town?”

Anti-fraternization rules and alarms go off everywhere. Don’t sleep with your patient! echoes softly in your mind. But his smile is just so charming and he’s adjusting his clothes that have shifted and oh, God, that color looks great on him.

“Why not?” You shrug, trying not to smile like an idiot. He ends up making you both dinner at his temporary, quaint little apartment that he’s renting — because you refuse to call it his flat — and it’s just as delicious as he is. You chide him softly for drinking wine when you cleaned his teeth just yesterday and he smiles at you, figuring he’ll have to visit America more often. Free healthcare be damned.

You help him wash dishes, and he’s flashing you that stupid grin that he’s got and somehow, when you’re on your back, bare as the day you were born, listening to John as he praises you gruffly six ways to Sunday… you’re not sure that you care about anti-fraternization.

He finishes with his head in the crook of your neck, and collapses beside you. “Too beyond my age to be doing all that, dove,” he chuckles gruffly and cleans you softly with a wet rag before turning off the lights and rolling into bed.

“Bless your heart,” you scratch lightly at his arm, flashing him a lazy grin.

“See you in the morning?” He asks as he rolls over.

“Absolutely, sugar.” And you fall asleep to his soft snoring.

[lexicorp]

Y'know, one thing that bothers me about the backstory information we get for the end of the war and Megatron in Earthspark; is /how/ he actually def acts from the cons.

Like, all we really see is how he was fighting them for the allspark in the battle scene, sneaking into Shockwaves lab to steal it, and how the cons behave towards him. Some cons outright call him a traitor, while others still were like "I'd never fight /you/ Megatron!" And it just makes comprehending what exactly went down between them so tricky.

It stands to reason that Megatron had gone behind their backs with his decision to side with Optimus. But why? Why didnt he just stand in front of his army, and /tell them/, "we're doing this now"? He was the leader, why couldn't he do that? Why /wouldn't/ he?

So then the thought trails to perhaps he'd decided that he wanted to quietly remove the allspark, lie and say the bots stole it when it vanished, and let it fade into the shadows in a safe place only Optimus was to know about. That seems like a decently plausible plan. So then in the scene with Shockwave on that theory, Megatron wasn't actually outwardly against them yet, but Shockwave knew. Shockwave already has a bit of his own history in lore of wanting to expand his power over the Cons in his own right, so I don't think it unreasonable for him to have kept a keen eye on Megatron's behavior. Hell, Shockwave had been planning a protoform army that Megs didn't seem to approve of. So maybe that timeline could have been how things went, with Megatron running off with the Allspark after locking the scientist away.

But then it still doesn't make sense. Cuz if we're going off the idea of the first plan, why wouldn't he have simply covered up Shockwaves absence and done it the quiet way instead of it leading to some huge battle? Clearly no one knew where shockwave was since he hadn't been freed beforehand by another con-- or maybe they did since in a deleted scene ravage was supposed to have gathered a remote to release him. Maybe that's why they deleted that scene tho. Who fucking knows. It's jank as hell.

So then Megatron must have already been openly with the bots in that scene, and snuck in due to insider knowledge to the location of Shockwaves secret lab. Okay sure. So then, who took charge after Megs disconnected? Starscream? But Shockwave had literal underground plans of his own. And Star's line of "witness the fall of Megatron!" Is just so funny to me thinking about the timeline shit. Cuz I process that line as "witness the mighty warlord falling from his throne to become a pitiful traitor to everything he created!", but it could just feel like some typical slag of the "Megatron has fallen, now I'm the new leader!" But then if Starscream had already appointed himself as leader by that point, then that'd seem odd in context, especially as it's worded differently. Were the cons all just flailing around disorganized? Some listening to Starscream, some to Shockwave, some to Soundwave?

There are not enough details touched on for my liking. Vague context that leads to more questions than what answers it gives.

I think at least for my fic imma have it as a sorta mix where Megatron decided he was gonna dewit on his own and went behind their backs, he was caught fraternizing with the enemy, and when he tried to explain then his three main lads thought it was bullshit and were actually on the same page at least on the idea that they didn't wanna throw away their advantage and thought what Megatron was saying was dumb. And I bet Optimus and other bots were there during that confrontation so it just escalated into a full on battle where Megatron just left to stay with the bots. It could have also just been Star who initially found out that way and just relayed what happened to the others.

It still just seems so weird tho...so tbh i'd love to hear anyone else's thoughts on the matter.

Bro's fumbling-

[that-ari-blogger]

Where Do We Go Now? (Horde Prime)

The fifth season of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power begins on a pretty dire note. I’m not going to spoil the series in this introduction, so go watch the show if you don’t know what I mean, but suffice to say that this isn’t the best of circumstances.

Except, it’s not actually the worst of circumstances either. Things are bad, don’t get me wrong, but if you are really obtuse, you can see a balance emerge here, and I am nothing if not obtuse.

Let me explain.

Spoilers Ahead: (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Star Wars Skeleton Crew)

She-Ra is a story about escaping the cycle of abuse, most clearly exemplified by the horde, but also through Light Hope and Shadow Weaver. From a certain point of view, season five opens with that being accomplished.

Catra is on the other side of the galaxy to Shadow Weaver. She has lost that power that corrupted her, and she has a nominal friend in Glimmer.

For all intents and purposes, the Horde has been defeated. Hordak is no more, and this new enemy is so aesthetically and practically different from its predecessor that it doesn’t feel like the same thing at all.

Light Hope has been set free, She Ra no longer inhibits Adora or acts to control her, and she is showing incredible combat skill without it.

Those are the stated goals of the series and the thematic endpoints of every idea that the series was building up towards.

If it wasn’t for Horde Prime, the series could have ended with the last season and been genuinely quite satisfying. The characters claw their way out of the tragedy, Glimmer was tragically lost, Catra couldn’t be saved.

Instead, the series kept on going and scaled itself up a bit. We suddenly see the full scope of everything, and despite their escape, our characters are still barreling towards tragedy. Breaking free didn’t matter, or at least wasn’t everything.

I think that every season in this show has a different thematic angle to be read through. A different question to ask.

Season one, for example, asked “how do relationships change?” As such, the season spent a lot of time developing the history of Shadow Weaver and Micah, as well as the fall of Entrapta and of course the focus on Adora and Catra. But it also showed the gaining alliance of the Rebels in the context of the previous fall.

In contrast, season four asked “what about everyone else?”

That’s why I pointedly avoided discussing Catra and Adora in detail. The season was about Glimmer and Light Hope and Perfuma and Scorpia. It was about everyone who was tangentially related to the main story but was being broken down because of it. Season four was a season concerned with collateral damage.

Which brings us to season five, and to the question: “where do we go now?”

The events I mentioned at the start of this are only positive from a certain point of view. To everyone else they are either negative or simply different. Everything is up in the air, everything has changed.

Last season, the show wrapped up, and now we are on a different story entirely. We are in a different place in the galaxy, the villain is different in every way imaginable. We have a different arrangement of characters. We have a different genre aesthetic, moving from quirky fantasy to full science fiction

My reading of this season is that it is the hardest step of removing oneself from the cycle of abuse: deprogramming.

The new Horde is aesthetically a modern or psuedo-modern cult, and the verb for breaking free from that is "deprogramming".

This is a story about what happens after someone escapes from that cycle of abuse in the physical sense, and suddenly has to resolve how they act. These are new situations that provide the characters with an opportunity to be whatever they want, and this is the story of those characters making those choices.

Put simply: “What do you want?”

Catra and Adora come into centre stage with mirrors of each other, specifically through their echoes of their previous deeds.

Both react to this new circumstance through changing next to nothing about themselves. They are on the path to redemption, sure, but neither seems to acknowledge that this is a wholly different situation.

“The Horde's the Horde, even in space. As long as I'm of value to Horde Prime, I've got a place in this world. I can work my way up here, just like I did before.”

This gets pointed out in the story as an insane thing to say. But it highlights Catra’s mindset in a concise way to remind the audience and explain her to new viewers.

Catra’s life has been ruined by her desperation for power. She wants to be safe, but instead of seeking that out, she takes the feeling of safety instead, and she does that through clinging to power. I will stress that safety and the emotions associated with it are different things, and Catra’s actions are more in line with an addict looking for one more hit of that dopamine gained from feeling secure.

If she wanted to actually be safe, she would have left the Horde way back in episode two. But if all characters always did the logical thing, then the story wouldn't exist. This isn't a plot hole, it's a character beat.

The key here, as gets stated by Glimmer, is that the feeling of safety is hollow. That ignorance is going to get Catra killed or worse.

Adora weilds a staff in this episode, which has two meanings. One, it's about as far from a sword in how it's used as possible. At least, far from a longsword like that of She-Ra, greatswords are a bit different. It's a different fighting style that has different strengths and weaknesses. But also, we've seen Adora wield a staff before. In episode one. When she was with the Horde.

Similarly, Adora is wrestling with the fallout of no-longer being She-Ra by falling further into her hero complex. She has to save everyone and will burn herself down to feel any warmth. She doesn’t sleep, and devotes herself to duty to take her mind off the situation.

The lesson she learns is that she is not alone, but there’s something else, and it’s the really small moment of the kid with the doll.

The child is obviously enamoured with Adora, and they carry the doll of She-Ra because to them, the two people are one and the same. To them, Adora hasn’t lost anything. To them, that admiration hasn’t gone anywhere.

I will remind you of what we know about She-Ra. Most recently, the First Ones claimed that they chose Etheria because it had She-Ra. But earlier on in the series, Madam Razz said this:

“She-Ra was here long before your people arrived.”

Adora never heard this, as it was spoken to Mara, but the point stands for the audience. Adora hasn’t lost She-Ra, she has shaken off the thing that controlled that part of her life. Now she needs to learn to do it a different way.

In other words, she needs to relearn how she interacts with the world. She needs to deprogram herself of everything the First Ones and the Horde taught her.

Speaking of deprogramming, this episode is named for it’s villain, and there’s something important to discuss about that.

Star Wars: Skeleton Crew is a series about growing up and leaving your bubble. It is about preconceptions and imagination. It is about change.

Part of how it explores this theme is the villain, Jod Na Nawood.

Jod is introduced as a heroic mentour in the first cliff hanger of the episode. But for the rest of the series until his true motivations are revealed, he is the most obviously suspicious character in the series. To the point where the kids notice.

There is a consistent thing with blue and red lighting in this series, in that everything keeps trying to shoot Jod in blue, but he keeps changing the scene or moving towards the red. For someone who's entire thing is helplessness and forced evil, he certainly makes a lot of bad decisions. Put simply, he is telling you the world is awful while actively removing any good in it. It's the childish excuse: "It's not my fault, it was like this when I found it." No. No it was not.

Obviously, this plays into that idea of not reading a book by its cover. But this is a character who keeps coming up with names and monikers, and who wears a mask at every opportunity. There is more to this man yet.

Then we get the final episode, and we get his backstory, and remarkably, he is wrong about everything.

He claims the galaxy is cruel and uncaring and that there are “a few pinpricks of light”, and yet everyone in the show has been kind to him except the people he actively did harm to. He caused his own misfortune, and people are still kind to him. The kids break him out of jail, their parents save them even at great personal cost. Jod Na Nawood is wrong, and the series ends by flooding him with light just to get the message across.

This is not a morally grey character. This is a villain with a cohesive backstory. Nuance and moral greyness are not the same thing.

But here’s the key thing, Jod is a child who never grew up. He is forever trapped in a moment that the Galaxy isn’t anymore. He says the world is awful and then takes steps to make it worse, and that final shot of his defeat makes it abundantly clear.

Jude Law is hot, but he’s also an incredible actor. If you combine that with good cinematography, you get a moment where the camera looks directly at him as the light illuminates his expression, leaving nowhere to hide, and he looks like a scared child recovering from a tantrum. He looks about to cry. He looks like he's about to say "it's not fair".

There's something to be said for the simplicity of Jod's design in comparison to the rest of Star Wars. Jaba is a slug gangster, Darth Vader has the hat and the cape, and Jod has the helmet. But when you take that away, which the show keeps doing, he's just some guy. He wears clothes that are slightly too big for him, and he has a big ol' gap over his chest. He's vulnerable.

Jod is not good at scheming, he got defeated by children. He’s not particularly charismatic, he lost his crew repeatedly. He’s not a good leader, see my previous point. He’s a traumatised child who refused to grow beyond that.

In that sense, he is a thematic opposite to the main characters. They represent hope (a new hope, you might say), and he represents stagnation. The series asks which idea will prevail, and Jod’s does not.

In She-Ra, the villain is Horde prime, who acts as the symbol of isolation and lack of agency.

Everyone around him is a vessel for his will. He is another version of Shadow Weaver turning her victims into another version of herself. Horde Prime does that literally with the mind chips that will become more important later on in the series.

His interaction with Glimmer is all about confining her. He limits her magic, he shows her images he knows will break her. He messes with her free will.

He's also an eejit. Catra was willing to give him the weapon practically for free. But no, he took the extra effort because he wanted to feel powerful. He's petty and cruel, and he's blind. He's got so many eyes, but he can't see the easiest rout to his plan when it is handed to him on a platter.

This has been a story so far about taking your own agency and being your own person, and Horde Prime is the person who says “no actually, you shouldn’t do that.”

His throne room is a vast emptiness, his power set is about embracing oblivion.

In that way, Horde Prime is a thematic opposite to the themes of the series. The story has been teaching our characters to be free, and Horde Prime tries to get them to surrender.

We will see which idea comes out on top.

Final Thoughts

I want to talk about Shadow Weaver for a moment. This is a season that delves into redemption, and it offers that to everyone, Shadow Weaver included. We will see how that ends, but for the moment, there is an interesting dichotomy.

I think Shadow Weaver does care about Micah and Catra. She saves Micah’s life in this episode. But she doesn’t care enough to do anything about it. She doesn’t care enough to change her ways. Redemption is offered, and she doesn’t take it.

I think that sets up the concept rather well. Redemption is not just something that is offered, it is something that you have to take agency in. You have to redeem yourself. You can get help, and honey, you will need it. But, you have to do most of the work.

I think that makes Catra’s story a bit more impactful.

Next week, I will be looking at Launch, so stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[ferditheas]

The Ferdinand & Dorothea A Support is Disappointing, And Here's Why

Before I begin my #HotTake in earnest, I want to make something clear: I really really like the relationship between Dorothea and Ferdinand, romantically or platonically. This critique is coming from a place of deep love. (I mean, look at my URL!)

With that out of the way... I've recently been thinking on the Ferdinand & Dorothea support chain, and I feel like it ends in a disappointing manner that does both characters and their relationship an injustice.

A quick summary of the supports, for those who don't remember:

C Support:

Ferdinand wonders why Dorothea treats him so coldly, and asks if she hates him.

Dorothea confirms that she does hate him. She won't answer him when he asks for a reason why.

She tells him that if he can guess why she hates him, she'll tell him the truth. She gives him a clue that she hates him because he's "like a bee".

B Support:

Ferdinand believes that he has solved Dorothea's, and has done so by making some pastries for her.

Bees are dutiful workers, just like Ferdinand. The bee also "inherits a capacious home, with a wealth of honey", just as Ferdinand inherited his fortune.

To try and make her feel differently about him, he makes pastries all on his own. He performed labor in order to get the ingredients, and he took on extra chores so he could use the kitchen at night.

While making the treats, he burned his hand. Dorothea notices this and scolds him, and immediately takes him to the infirmary to patch him up.

She says this incident has made her reconsider him a little bit, but that he has still failed to realize why he is like a bee.

For these two supports? No notes. Mwah. Chefs kiss. Really good stuff. But I don't think that the A Support manages to use the solid foundation it was building up very well.

A Support

Dorothea shares her tragic backstory as an orphan with Ferdinand. Nobles mistreated her when she was a street urchin, yet these sames nobles fawned over her when she was an opera star.

Ferdinand understands this is why she hates nobility, but wonders why she thinks that would apply to him.

She explains that, on the very day she was scouted for the opera, she ran into Ferdinand in Enbarr. She took a bath in the public fountains, and he glared at her. Yet when they met at the academy, he was friendly to her.

"You were like a bee, Ferdinand. A bee attracted to a flower in full bloom."

Ferdinand insists there was a misunderstanding - he was not glaring at her in disgust, but in awe. He thought she was a beautiful water nymph.

Dorothea is hesitant to accept this, but admits that she wants to believe in him.

Ferdinand says that he's glad they had this conversation, and muses that "life as a simple drone, circling a queen" would be quite wonderful.

I do think there is some really good stuff in this A Support. But this post is long enough already, so I'll focus on what I find so disappointing: it being "just a misunderstanding" means that neither of their characters have their ideals tested.

Dorothea's hatred of Ferdinand being positioned as solely because of this one incident as a child is just... a little silly. Even if she hadn't misunderstood - all of that venom because of something he did when he was like, 9? It's pretty immature. It's especially weird because she has plenty of valid reasons to be upset with nobility!

As for Ferdinand, him thinking a girl was so pretty that she had to be a mythical creature is pretty cute - but it removes a lot of the stakes. Ferdinand doesn't have to change as a person in order to earn Dorothea's trust, because it turns out he did nothing wrong. I think this is a shame, because the best part of their support to me is the B Support, where Ferdinand is trying so hard to look inward and change himself!

The Three Hopes version of their support chain does touch upon how silly it was that it was all a misunderstanding, and while I find that chain deeply adorable... I also think it fails to engage with the conflict of nobility.

If I was to rewrite the support chain, I'd make whatever gave Dorothea such a grudge be actually meaningful. Either a grudge against Ferdinand's father, or some legitimately rude thing that Ferdinand did to her in the past, would suffice for me.

But that's just my opinion! Again, I wrote this post out of love - I will always hold Ferdithea dear to my heart. That's why I hold the support to such a high standard.

[fussystreetlight]

I know antis like throwing the term logical fallacy around, but as someone who had to take a philosophy class, antis would have an aneurysm in that class.

One time we had a discussion about incest. The professor asked us why it was wrong. When we responded it was because of inbreeding and that a child would be hurt, he asked us "what if the couple couldn't have kids?". That was how the class went. We'd come up with a reason and he'd ask us to think about if that context was removed and whether or not we'd still react the same without that context.

He wanted to teach us to think about why things are right or and wrong and what effect context would have on our morals and perceptions. Because things aren't wrong because they're wrong, and we're not born knowing right from wrong even if we do have enough empathy to not want to hurt someone.

I think classes like this are useful for teaching critical thinking skills, but from what I've seen of antis, they'd probably freak out over someone talking about bad things in even the slightest positive light...

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[imunbreakabledude]

any time I see someone speaking about one of the antagonists from the boys, other than stormfront, and for whatever reason they feel they need to make the statement, "well at least [homelander/soldier boy/firecracker/whoever] isn't a nazi", i die a little bit inside. did you watch season 2. did you UNDERSTAND season 2....

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

I still don’t know what my exact take on angels egg is yet but I think I like it so far mainly because of the comfort of some dude off the shits exploring the concept of hoping and waiting for something in a way that isn’t just rewarded exactly how the character wants but yet it is rewarded nonetheless like it’s not just nihilism trying to be avant garde once again it’s just like actually this is the real perhaps tragic beauty of hope and how our relationship to truth works and whatever the fuck. Or however you need to interpret it have a nice day

[candlebel]

I cared. I still do. I still think of you and I still cry over you. You were importat to me. You still are.

[monster-noises]

I know I've made like.. this exact post like four other times but it's gunna keep coming back up until I Figure It Out so.. I have been on and off thinking about the actually solid Idea I had for remaking FaHI as an Original text (along side or after FaHI Proper is written) And I think where I've ended up with it is pretty good! It captures a lot of the same themes and the bones of the thing and I like it! And Yet........ I don't think it is possible to 1 to 1 translate FaHI, it will always Loose Things, very very important things that will always make it a Completely Different Story. The same heart around the same ideas, in the broadest sense, but as soon as you take it out of exactly Where and What It Is it becomes something completely different.. Like you can't hit Any of the same story beats in the same way.. The structure of the environment is different so the way everyone interacts changes and thus shifts every important interpersonal moment.. the situation with the mold and the magic changes and changes the characters themselves in inherent ways that change how they interact with the world and each other but I have to change these things else it will be Very Obvious What This Was.. not a revolutionary concept by any means but I'm not entirely sure what to do with it.... FaHI; the fanwork is a story I Very much love and want to share as the fanwork that it is but there's a lot about FaHI that I love and Wish dearly I could share in a professional or personal context and I simply can't as much because of it's limitations as a fanwork... and I want to split the difference but ooo it always feels like I'm loosing so much.. GRAH!!

[seddair]

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