#it's literally so dumb and also so perfectly in character

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #17 死

† bedroom confessions †

“His real name is the most dangerous thing he’s ever given you.”

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⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 7.5k

rating: explicit (18+)

content: first time in jeon’s bedroom, real name revelation, sexual tension finally exploding, dirty talk that’ll make you blush, spanking kink discovery, emotional walls starting to crack, post-sex vulnerability, and lines being crossed that can never be uncrossed.

Kiki Nation’s discussion thread for this chapter.

☠ author's note ☠

Y’ALL I’M DECEASED. Just casually writing 7.5k of filth like it’s nothing. Who even am I at this point? My laptop is judging me, my FBI agent is traumatized, and I haven’t made eye contact with my roommate in three days.

So… that happened. Jungkook finally shared his real name AND his bed, and honestly? The power that man holds when he’s being all dominant and teasing is absolutely CRIMINAL. I had to take several water breaks while writing this chapter because WHEW. Is it hot in here or is it just me? (¬‿¬)

The fact that Jungkook’s idea of aftercare is literally “wanna stay connected all night?” has me HOLLERING. Sir, that is NOT how this works—but also it’s so perfectly HIM. Our emotionally stunted sniper boy doesn’t know how to process feelings unless they’re shooting through a rifle scope.

And Y/N with the attitude even DURING sex? A queen behavior. Standing ovation for not becoming a complete puddle the second he touched her (though let’s be real, it was close).

Let’s also talk about how they can’t stop BANTERING even post-orgasm. These two idiots calling it “charity work” when they’re both equally obsessed with each other? THE DELUSION. I love them so much it physically hurts my face.

I know I promised slow burn but uh… Listen. LISTEN. It’s an EMOTIONALLLL slow burn. The fuck buddies tag is there for a reason. Sometimes characters just take over and you have to let them bang it out, you know? It’s for their mental health or whatever.

Don’t get too comfortable though! We all know what happens in this universe when people get too happy… the universe (aka me, their cruel god) decides to throw a wrench in everything. ⌒(o＾▽＾o)ノ

Next chapter will give us a little morning-after situation and maybe even some actual plot development if I can stop writing smut for five seconds!

Love ya, trauma vultures! Keep those comments coming, they fuel my sleep-deprived writing sessions!

xoxo 💋

P.S. Also, for the hate comment I deleted 5 seconds after it was posted (you tried though)… here's an even longer author's note, since yk, like you said, nobody reads them… More for me to yap without consequences, I guess.

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

You're in Jeon's room. 

Jeon's fucking room. 

When he'd texted you to come to the shooting range earlier, you'd figured it was just another one of his typical late-night training sessions. 

But now? Now you're here, on his bed , with him standing over you like he’s already decided you’re his next target.

Like you’re already dead and just haven’t figured it out yet.

Okay, maybe a tiny part of you had hoped for this. (Shut up , horny brain.)

But you'd only agreed to be fuck buddies like, what, some hours ago?

And here you are already, sprawled across his sheets, heart hammering against your ribs like it's trying to escape.

Talk about moving fast.

Except it isn't simple. Not when you're already spread out across his bed like you fucking live here. Not when your heart's kicking like a scared rabbit in your chest.

Your fingers curl into his sheets on reflex. Satin. Dark. Smells like pine and something sharper—pine. Him. God, that should not do things to you but it does.

You fight the dumb grin twitching at the corner of your mouth.

Because here's the thing.

He's just as gone for it.

Jeon's staring down at you like he hasn't eaten in days. Dark eyes locked on you like you're dinner and dessert and every guilty pleasure combined. There's no hesitation. No second-guessing. No going slow. Just that razor-focused, dangerous glint he always gets before pulling the trigger on a mark.

And Jesus Christ, you're the mark.

Your breath catches.

That stormy energy of his? It's fucking alive. Wrapping around you. Crawling over your skin. You feel it. You taste it. Static in the air—sharp, biting, almost buzzing in your goddamn teeth.

His fingers graze your thigh and oh. 

That's nice. Really nice. 

But before you can really enjoy it, he pulls his hand away. Plants it on the mattress by your head, making the bed creak under his weight.

You snap your head up in disbelief. "Seriously?"

Your voice cracks. Great. Love that for you.

But then his other hand comes up—slides along your jaw like he owns you. Fingers rough. Callused. Deadly. And all you can do is stare like a fucking idiot as his thumb presses against your bottom lip. Tugging. Testing.

You go pliant before you even process it. Lips parting on instinct.

His mouth opens just a little—like he's picturing it. Like he wants to taste you. Swallow you whole.

And goddamn it, you want that too.

So bad it hurts.

Is he imagining what it'd be like to kiss you? 'Cause you sure as hell are.

"You sure you can handle the kind of tension relief I'm talking about?" he asks, voice low and gravelly. 

You almost laugh. As if you haven't been thinking about this exact scenario for weeks. 

"Guess you'll have to show me so I can decide, huh?"

That does it. 

He moves. Fast.

You barely register it before he's already there—mouth crashing into yours like he's starving. Teeth. Tongue. Fucking warzone.

There's no slow build-up. No teasing. Just pure, raw take.

Your breath punches out of you as you grab for him. Instinct. Desperation. Your fingers slip into his hair—damp, messy, soft as hell. You tug. Hard.

He groans into your mouth. Loud. Deep. Way too fucking hot. It rips down your spine like lightning.

You bite his lip just to feel him suck in air through his teeth. God, that sound—that sound—shoots straight to your core. Your legs twitch under him, thighs pressing together, trying to ease the ache.

It doesn't work. Makes it worse.

Jeon doesn't let you off easy either. He dives back in. Deeper this time. Tongue claiming, swallowing every shaky breath you give him like he owns them now.

His body shifts—presses down harder—pinning you to the mattress without saying a single word. Your back arches up like a fucking reflex. Can't help it.

And then, just as fast, he pulls back.

Forehead against yours. Breath ragged. Lips slick and swollen.

His chest rises and falls like he just ran a mile.

You're no better. Gasping. Throat dry. Pulse wrecked.

"We doing this?" he asks. 

Not really a question. He knows. You both know. Still—he waits.

And maybe it's stupid how much that makes your throat go tight.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Yes."

One word. That's all it takes for Jeon's eyes to darken further.

His mouth finds yours again, but only for a moment. Then he's moving—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. When his teeth graze below your ear, a small gasp leaves your throat.

Fuck.

The sound does something to him. You can tell by the way his fingers dig into your hip, how his breath comes out just a bit harsher against your skin.

His other hand slides down your stomach, fingers spread wide like he's trying to touch as much of you as possible. The shirt bunches up with the movement. 

More skin exposed to the cool air of his room. More of you for him to explore.

You can barely breathe right. Every inhale is shallow, desperate. A whine builds in your throat, needy and embarrassing, but you're too far gone to care. You want more. More of his hands on you, more of his mouth, more of the way he's practically caging you in with his body.

He makes this sound—low and satisfied, almost like a growl—that has heat pooling between your legs.

"Jeon," you breathe out. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. 

"Jungkook," he corrects, voice rough with want. "My real name is Jungkook. Say it like that again."

Your breath catches. Using real names in Kkangpae isn't something you take lightly. It's intimate. Personal. A sign of trust that goes beyond the physical.

"Jungkook," you say again, louder this time. Testing how it feels on your tongue. 

The way his eyes darken tells you everything you need to know about how it sounds to him.

He growls—actually growls, okay paw patrol?—at that, like your voice saying his name is doing things to him. Like he can't get enough of it.

God. The way he's looking at you right now.

"Turn over for me," he murmurs like a command, but there's something patient in his voice. "I need to see that ass."

Your whole body feels like jelly as you move. The mattress dips beneath you, and fuck—you realize how exposed you are right now, laid out for him like this. How vulnerable. 

How wanted.

"Ass up, sunshine," he says, voice raspy.

You push yourself up on your elbows, lifting your hips. The position makes you feel s̶l̶u̶t̶t̶y̶ bold, but it also feels slightly intoxicating, being on display like this, knowing exactly what it's doing to him.

The sharp intake of his breath is worth it.

His hands hover over you for a moment—those same hands that can take a life from a mile away with a sniper rifle now ghosting across your skin. The anticipation has your stomach in knots, has you fighting the urge to push back against him.

When he finally touches you, it's almost reverent. Like he's mapping out territory he plans to claim.

"Fuck," he breathes out; and the way he says it—like a prayer, like worship—makes your face burn. "You have no idea what your ass does to me."

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, kneading with the kind of expertise that makes you wonder h̶o̶w̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ if he's thought about this before. 

You have to press your face into the pillow to muffle the sounds trying to escape your throat. 

Because if you start, you're not sure you'll be able to stop.

He takes his time, methodical in a way that's driving you insane. His thumbs spread you open, then let you fall back together. His hands work their way, massaging and squeezing. The heat under your skin builds until you feel like you might combust. Like you might actually catch fire right here in his bed.

"Such a perfect ass," he groans, and then—oh—his lips are pressing against one cheek, then the other. Soft kisses that feel somehow filthier than anything else he's done. "Fucking beautiful."

The praise hits different when it's coming from him. When it's Jungkook—cold, distant, perfectionist Jungkook—telling you how perfect you are.

When he pulls back, the loss of contact hits different. Like someone just yanked a warm blanket off you.

"I want to try something," he says, and okay, when his voice sounds like that you'd say yes to almost anything he'd say. 

"Yeah?" Your voice is breathy, but at this point you're too curious (too turned on) to give a single fuck.

His hand traces up your spine, gentle in a way that doesn't match how intensely he's staring at you. The contrast makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"I want to spank that gorgeous ass of yours." 

It comes out like a confession, like he's been thinking about this for a while. There's a question mark hanging at the end of it though, waiting for your permission.

Oh.

Something hot and electric zips through you at the suggestion. Your brain staggers for a second, but your body's already made up its mind. You're nodding before you can even process what this means.

"Let's do it," you say, maybe too eagerly, but the thought of his hand coming down on your ass has lit something up inside you that you didn't even know was there.

"Remember our safe word?"

Even in the middle of this is, he's making sure you're both on the same page.

"Black tape," you confirm immediately. 

Having that word there, knowing you can use it anytime—it's like a safety net. Makes everything else feel okay.

"Good."

He positions himself behind you again, and the anticipation is k̶i̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ driving you crazy. His hand hovers over your skin, making you feel every inch of exposed flesh. 

Then, the first spank lands.

It's almost gentle—like he's testing the waters, seeing how you'll react.

The sound it makes in the quiet room has your face burning.

Sharp. Clean. Loud. 

Your skin blooms with heat where his palm connected, and fuck—it's not exactly painful, but it sends this electric feeling through your whole body that has you gasping. The sting melts into something warmer, spreading under your skin until you feel like you're floating.

Your face burns. 

And... It's not from pain.

Obviously, he's watching you like a hawk, trying to read your reaction. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy and intense.

"How was that?" His voice comes out rough, like he's the one who just got spanked.

You have to take a second to remember how words work.

"Good," you manage to get out, barely above a whisper. "Really good."

He gives you time to process, to just feel it. Then his palm is back on your ass, but this time he's not spanking. He's just... touching. Soothing the heated skin with gentle strokes that somehow feel more intimate than the spank itself.

It's messing with your head—how he can switch from rough to gentle so fast. One second he's spanking you, the next he's treating you like you're made of glass.

The air feels exactly like right before a storm hits. 

Jungkook's presence behind you is overwhelming in the best way, and when his hand moves away, you actually have to bite back a whine.

Every second he makes you wait feels like torture. You arch your back a little, trying to be s̶l̶u̶t̶t̶y̶ subtle about asking for more. You can't see his face, but you know he's smirking. 

You've seen that look enough times to picture it perfectly—that cocky little quirk of his lips, the way his eyes get all dark and intense.

"Ready for another?" he asks, voice gone all gravelly; and it shouldn't be hot, but it is.

Your heart's going crazy in your chest when you nod. "Yes."

Waiting has has your skin tingling, has you holding your breath without even meaning to.

You can feel him shifting behind you, the mattress dipping as he draws his arm back. 

When his palm connects this time, it's not a question—it's a statement. 

The smack echoes off the walls, louder than before, and holy shit.

"Fuck," you gasp out. 

It stings more this time, sharp and intense, but in a way that makes everything feel unfairly good.

"How does that feel?" His words drip with arousal, but there's still that undercurrent of concern. 

Always checking, always making sure.

"Nice," you hear yourself say, and you're surprised by how eager you sound. Like you can't get enough. "Keep going."

There's a pause, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"As you wish," he finally says, and you don't need to see his face to know he's smirking.

He pulls back again, and like the asshole he is, he makes you wait a little bit.

Not for long though, because clearly, the fucker is enjoying this too.

When the third spank lands, it's like a lightning bolt straight to your core. It's stronger, more controlled, and the pleasure that rips through you is so intense it steals your breath. 

You cry out—not from pain, but from how good it feels. 

How it makes your whole body sing.

This time, his hand stays put. You can feel the heat of his palm against your stinging skin, and it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

"Beautiful," he breathes out, like you're some kind of work of art.

You hadn't pegged Jungkook as the type to be into this kind of thing. But the way his breath catches, the slight tremor in his hand as it rests on your ass—it's like he's discovering something about himself right along with you.

Maybe it's a spanking thing. Or maybe it's just a you thing.

Or your ass thing. 

Either way, the realization that you're affecting him this much? 

Heady. Bargaining material. 

His fingers start tracing patterns on your heated skin, soothing the sting. Again with the contrast, from the spanking to this. Like he's not quite sure himself where he stands.

"You okay?"

You nod into the pillow, not trusting your voice right now. 

Because how do you tell someone that you're more than okay? That you're floating on some kind of pleasure high you didn't even know existed?

And honestly, this whole situation is simply making it hard to think straight. 

But then, Jungkook moves, slowly, creates some distance and—oh? 

A soft thud. His towel hitting the floor. 

He steps closer once more, bare skin against yours, and it's hot. He's hot. His skin is hot.

His body is all hard lines pressed up against your softer curves, and when his cock presses against your panties, you actually have to bite your lip to keep quiet.

You push back against him without thinking. 

S̶l̶u̶t̶t̶y̶ Needy.

"You're driving me fucking crazy," he makes this sound you can't quite classify.

The raw want in his voice does things to you. But before you can even think of responding, his hand comes down on your ass again. 

Hard.

The sound echoes through his room, and you can't help the moan that slips out.

(Anyone walking past his door would definitely hear that one.)

"Tell me you felt that," he demands.

"I felt it," you manage to get out between breaths. "I felt all of it."

Then his free hand wraps around your waist, fingers spreading wide like he's trying to conquer as much of your body as possible. He pulls you closer, and god—you can feel every inch of his cock pressed against you through the thin fabric of your panties. 

The contrast between his rough skin and the smooth material is driving you insane.

"You want more?" 

He's trying to sound teasing, but you can hear how affected he is. His voice is multiple octaves deeper than his usual 'whatever' tone.

"Yeah." Your voice comes out wrecked. "Don't stop."

He laughs—this low, dangerous sound that makes your toes curl. "God, I love how eager you are."

His hand comes down hard—harder than before—and the sound echoes through his room like a gunshot. You can't help the groan that rips from your throat. It's embarrassingly loud, but who cares at this point?

The sting burns hot across your skin, sharp and biting, sinking deeper until it melts into that aching pulse you can’t get enough of. You can feel exactly where his palm landed, the heat of it sinking deep into your flesh.

"Christ, you take it so well," he says, and his fingers dig into the spot he just spanked, pressure making you bite your lip. "I can see the shape of my hand on your ass, turning red. It's fucking sexy."

You're breathing like you just ran a marathon, each exhale coming out kind of whiny and desperate. Your brain’s mush. All you can register is his hands and the heat of him grinding against you.

"Jungkook, please." The way you say his name is straight-up pathetic, way too needy. 

You push back against him, wanting to feel him without these stupid panties in the way.

His fingers trail down your spine, so slow it’s infuriating. They dance over the curve of your ass before playing with the edge of your underwear. When his fingers finally hook into the fabric, you freeze, chest tightening as he pulls the fabric aside.

Your face is pressed into his mattress, ass up in the air like some kind of offering. You should feel exposed, but something about it just feels right.

"You're already so wet for me..." You can hear the smirk in his voice. What an asshole. "How can I resist?"

But he does resist, the bastard.

His touch goes all gentle, fingers just barely exploring your folds like he's got all the time in the world. Like he's trying to memorize every little detail—how wet you are, how warm, the way you can't help but tremble. 

He then makes this approving sound deep in his throat and you've had enough.

"Jungkook," you whine, dragging out his name like some kind of desperate prayer. "Stop teasing."

"But I want to watch you squirm," he says, and fuck—you can tell he means it. 

He wants to see you fall apart, wants to watch you beg.

What a bitch. 

His sadistic little game only gets worse when you complain. You can feel his finger right there, barely touching where you need him most, just collecting evidence of how embarrassingly wet you are. The anticipation is k̶i̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ driving you insane as he slides that finger up and down, parting you without actually giving you what you want. Using your own arousal to make the glide easier.

You try to push back against him, to get his finger inside you—anything. But his other hand is pressed firm against your lower back, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"Jesus Christ, just fuck me already," you can't help but groan, frustrated. 

But Jungkook—because he's a bastard—just keeps playing his little game.

"I'll fuck you when you're ready to break from wanting it so bad," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

He loves it. 

His finger circles your entrance, the touch so light it's actually torture. Every time he passes over that spot, you clench around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you.

When he finally pushes just the tip of his finger in, you actually sigh out loud—half relief, half frustration. Your whole body's shaking with how bad you need more, but he keeps holding back. Adding pressure so slowly it should be illegal, pushing in just to pull back out again.

He's drawing this out just because he can, the power-tripping dickhead.

The pressure builds just a tiny bit as he shows you the smallest amount of mercy, sliding that one finger in entirely so slow you think you might actually lose your mind. 

It's not enough—nowhere near enough—and he knows it. 

You want him to stop being so careful, to just take what you're offering.

Despite how frustrated you are (or maybe because of it), you can't help but smirk. 

"What, you got no condoms this time either?"

The words come out all breathy between your gritted teeth—and honestly? Not your brightest idea, bringing up that particular memory from the tent.

The response is immediate—his hand comes down hard on your ass, sting spreading across your skin like wildfire.

"Aw, what the fuck—?" 

You yelp, caught between the sharp pain and how embarrassingly turned on it makes you feel—like your body can't decide if it wants to flinch away or push back for more.

"You should know better than to sass me right now."

Then his hand is smoothing over the spot he just spanked, gentle in a way that feels almost worse than the hit itself.

"You're such an asshole," you tell him, but there's no real bite to it. 

You both know you don't mean it, not when you're bent over his bed with his finger inside you.

"Mhm, but you fucking love it, don't you?" 

He says it like it's just a fact. Like the sky is blue, water is wet, and you get off on him being a dick.

(The worst part is he's not wrong.)

You can't help but grown more impatient when you feel his ring finger press up against your entrance, right next to where his middle finger is already buried inside you. He pauses there, just letting you feel the pressure.

"For fuck's sake, just do it." Your voice cracks embarrassingly, giving away just how bad you want it.

He laughs, low and rough. "Patience, I want you to feel every single inch."

Can he die? Genuinely. 

Then the pressure builds as he starts working his ring finger in alongside the other one. He's being so fucking methodical about it, pushing deeper into you at a pace that's making you lose your mind. 

Every inch feels like it takes forever.

"You feel so fucking tight, you sure you can handle both?"

The teasing note in his voice makes you want to bite him. He already knows the answer, the smug bastard.

"I can take more than you can give," you get out between breaths, because fuck him.

And it's meant to be cocky, but it comes out sounding more desperate than anything.

"We'll see about that."

His fingers stop moving for a second—just long enough to make you whine—before he starts pushing in even slower. Like he's trying to make you feel every single movement, every stretch, every slide.

And at this point your body's on fucking fire. But can you be to blame, when he's been nothing but an infuriating tease?

Little pleading sounds keep escaping your throat without permission. You're practically chanting 'please's as you try to push back against his hand. But he's got you pinned, keeping that torturously slow pace.

"Fucking... jerk," you mutter—because he absolutely is. 

"Yeah," he agrees. "I am."

When both his fingers finally—finally—bottom out inside you, you actually gasp. Your body clenches around them greedily, trying to get any kind of movement, and the grunt he lets out sounds s̶e̶x̶y̶ pleased.

"Tell me how much you want it."

It's not a request. His voice has that edge to it that makes it very clear.

"I want it more than my next breath." The words tumble out raw and honest.

"Good girl," he says, and even though it's rough around the edges, the praise makes you stutter.

His fingers curl inside you, making you moan embarrassingly loud. Then the bastard just... stops. Stays completely still, letting you feel exactly how deep his fingers are, how they're stretching you open.

You're actually going to lose your mind if he doesn't start moving soon. But you refuse to beg—you won't give him the satisfaction.

"I think listening to you beg is my new favorite sound," he says, like he can read your thoughts.

"Fuck off—" The words die in your throat when his fingers pull back just a tiny bit before pushing deep again, and yup, the sound that comes out of your mouth is straight-up pathetic.

"You're driving me insane," you tell him, trying to sound angry.

"That's the idea." He says, but it's all dark and pleased. "I want you out of your mind with need, so when I finally give you what you're begging for, you'll remember who put you there."

Fuck.

His fingers are still buried deep inside you, not moving, and you can feel every single knuckle. It's like a preview of what's coming later—a promise that this is just the start, and he's planning to take his sweet time getting there.

The seconds drag by like hours. You're stuck in this weird space between pleasure and frustration, where his fingers feel so good but it's n̶o̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ not nearly enough. The heat of his body against yours isn't helping either. Having him this close but not getting what you want is actually torture.

"Are you planning on moving anytime this century?"

And yeah. It sounds bitchy. 

Exactly how you want it.

"In due time."

You can barely breathe right, desperation clawing at your throat. Then—oh—his finger brushes against your clit, so light you almost think you imagined it. Your hips jerk without permission, chasing that barely-there touch.

"Jungkook," you warn, half-growl, half-whine.

He chuckles. "No patience at all, huh?"

"Just fucking touch me already." The snark in your voice is falling apart, giving way to pure need.

"Ahh, I love it when you get all feisty."

You open your mouth to tell him exactly where he can shove that smugness, but then his finger is back on your clit. 

Just ghosting over it, barely any pressure at all. 

But your whole body lights up anyway, every nerve ending suddenly wide awake.

"This is torture," you accuse, though the breathiness in your voice kind of ruins the effect.

"Not torture. Appreciation." He hums. "I'm just enjoying all those pretty sounds you make. The way you shake. How desperate you get."

Bastard.

His finger starts moving in slow circles around your clit, adding just a tiny bit more pressure. It's enough to make your back arch, trying to get more friction, but it's n̶o̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ not nearly enough.

"Please," you whine, past caring how needy you sound. "Just—a little harder, please, Jungkook."

He gives you what you asked for—barely. 

Just a fraction more pressure, but combined with his fingers still buried inside you, it's enough to make your body clench around him. 

He's got you trapped between pleasure and frustration, keeping you right on that edge.

"This what you want?" he asks, mocking. "This pace good for you, hmm?"

You know exactly what he's doing—getting off on your impatience, on how desperate he can make you with just his fingers and that stubborn w̶i̶l̶l̶p̶o̶w̶e̶r̶ control of his. 

The pressure on your clit keeps changing, going from barely-there touches that make you want to scream to just enough to have you chasing more.

"Jungkook, I fucking swear—" 

The words die in your throat when his finger suddenly presses harder.

"What?" His voice drops even lower, hitting that dangerous note that usually means he's about to stop playing nice. "What exactly are you swearing?"

"That I'll rip your fucking hair out if you don't stop messing around." You have to grit your teeth to get the words out, trying to sound threatening even though you're literally shaking with need.

He laughs—this deep, dark sound that vibrates through you—and rewards your threat with a firm stroke that has heat coiling in your stomach.

"That's not very nice," he says, but he sounds more amused than anything. Like your empty threats are entertaining him.

His finger goes back to those slow, torturous circles around your clit. Each pass builds the pressure a little more, but it's never quite enough to get you there.

The most f̶u̶c̶k̶e̶d̶ messed up part? You're kind of into it. 

This whole power play thing you've got going—how you push and he pulls, how you threaten and he teases. 

It's addictive. 

Because in truth, there is something powerful about knowing you can make Jeon Jungkook, Kkangpae's perfect soldier, want to hear you say his name.

Suddenly his whole rhythm changes. 

No more of that torturously slow pace—his fingers start moving with actual purpose, curling inside you in a way that has your toes curling. Like he's finally done playing around and just wants to make you genuinely cum.

Hallelujah.

The sound that comes out of your mouth is straight-up filthy. You have to press your face into the mattress to muffle it, which only makes you more aware of how heavily you're breathing, each gasp basically fucking advertising how good his fingers feel.

"Come on, sunshine," he teases. "You don't have to be quiet. These walls are soundproof."

But you just press your face harder into the mattress. 

It's become a matter of pride now—you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing exactly what he's doing to you. 

You're right there, so close you can taste it—

And then the fucker stops.

A pathetic whimper leaves your throat as you squirm beneath him, feeling weirdly empty. The loss of sensation has you actually wanting to cry.

When you turn your head to glare at him, he's got this insufferably satisfied look on his face. 

He reaches over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer like he's got all the time in the world. The foil packet he holds up catches the light, and the victorious look he gives you makes you want to bite him.

"See, I do have condoms this time, you smart mouth." The smirk on his face should be illegal.

"Oh wow, look who's being a semi-functional adult for once." You narrow your eyes at him."Want a fucking gold star or something?"

He laughs whilst tearing the foil packet and for some reason, it is weirdly hot—how focused he looks while rolling the condom on.

"Maybe after this you'll want to give me one," he says, still sounding way too amused.

He settles back on his knees, raising an eyebrow at you like he's waiting for something. You huff, pretending to be all put out even though you're literally dying from how bad you want him. When you press your cheek against his cool sheets again, you make sure to arch your back just right.

You know exactly what that view does to him.

Feeling extra b̶r̶a̶t̶t̶y̶ bold, you wiggle your hips a little. Just a tiny movement, but it's basically saying 'come and get it' without words.

And bingo. 

His hand comes down on your ass hard—but despite that, you feel weirdly victorious. 

Then he's right there, lining himself up. 

His tip brushes against your entrance, teasing to the point of madness, because at this point you just want him inside already.

You bite down on the sheets, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg again. But your body's giving you away anyway—the way you're trembling, how desperately you're trying to push back against him.

He takes his sweet time, just watching you. His eyes trail down your spine to where his handprints are probably turning your ass red. 

After what feels like forever, he finally pushes in, one smooth stroke that rips the air from your lungs.

And it's impossible to muffle yourself; even with your face squashed against the mattress, when he bottoms out completely. 

You feel every single inch of him, filling you up so completely it's genuinely insane. And he just stays there, buried deep inside you. 

"So fucking tight," he growls, sound vibrating through you, making your toes curl.

Your body moves on its own, pushing back against him, desperate for more. You need him to move, need that relentless pace you know he can give you. But the bastard just holds you there, completely still, making you feel every single detail of how he's splitting you open.

His fingers dig into your hips—not hard enough to leave marks (yet), but firm enough to keep you exactly where he wants you. And the slight bite of pain just adds to the pleasure, kind of welcome honestly. 

When he finally pulls back, you almost whine at the loss—but then he slams back in, hard and deep, and your brain melts. Everything gets kind of blurry after that.

Your skin feels like it's on fire everywhere he touches. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes through his room (thank god these walls are actually soundproof), getting louder with each thrust. His pace is brutal, punishing, but it's exactly what you've been dying for.

"That's it, take all of it."

And there's just this thing in how he says it—that has you pushing back against him like you're desperate for it. 

(Maybe you are.)

Every thrust feels like getting hit by a natural disaster; like a fucking hurricane. It's hard to breathe, hard to think about anything except how he's driving you into the mattress.

He's fucking you like he's got something to prove, hips snapping forward so hard it's just obscene, has you clutching at his sheets like they're the only thing keeping you grounded.

Then his hand slides underneath you, looking for your clit. Like he knows exactly what you need without you voicing it out. 

The second he finds it and starts rubbing circles against it, electricity zips through your whole body. It's almost too much, the dual sensation of his cock stretching you open and his fingers working your clit.

"Fuck, Jungkook," you moan, and you barely recognize your own voice. "Don't stop."

He lets out this grunt that gets lost in the sound of him pounding into you. 

But he listens, thank god, keeping up that relentless pace with both his cock and his fingers.

It's not gentle. He's fucking you like he wants to break you, like he wants to hear every embarrassing sound he can wring out of your throat.

"Just like that, sunshine," he pants. "Fucking take it."

Each thrust builds something wild inside you, like being caught in the eye of a hurricane. The pressure coils tighter and tighter until you think you might actually lose your mind. Everything feels too much and not enough all at once.

Your senses go into overdrive—the obscene sound of skin hitting skin, the heavy scent of sex filling his room, the salt of sweat on your tongue. You're drowning in pleasure, and Jungkook's the one holding you under with his relentless pace.

Then it hits.

The orgasm crashes through you in waves, drawing these embarrassingly loud sounds from your throat—whimpers, growls, straight-up begging. Your body clamps down around his cock like it's trying to keep him there forever, fingers still working your clit through it all. Pleasure zips through every nerve ending until you can barely breathe.

"Jungkook—" His name rips from your throat when you come, sounding absolutely wrecked. 

The pleasure is so intense it almost hurts.

He falters for just a second before picking the pace back up, fucking you through your orgasm until you're seeing stars. Each stroke sets off these little aftershocks that have you questioning your sanity. His groans get louder, deeper, mixing with the sounds you can't help but make.

Every thrust hits exactly where you need it, precise and commanding in that way only he can manage.

You can feel how tense he is, how close he is to losing it.

His breathing comes out all rough and uneven, matching the brutal pace of his thrusts. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave marks, using the grip to pull you back onto his cock like he can't get deep enough. 

It's feral, is what it is— how he's moving now—like he's completely lost in it, chasing his own pleasure.

"Shit, I'm close," he groans against your neck, chest pressed tight against your back, skin burning everywhere you touch.

Then he goes rigid as it hits him. 

You can feel every twitch of his cock, every pulse as he fills the condom.

He makes this plethora of sounds—deep, rough groans combined with some high pitched ones; all stripped away until he's just raw need and pleasure.

"Ah— fuck—"

Every curse that falls from his lips sounds snatched from him, desperate.

His hips stutter against yours, losing his rhythm as he rides it all out. His grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise, holding you still while he falls apart. Each thrust gets slower, like he's trying to make it last.

When he starts coming down from it, his hands go gentle where they were rough before. 

He's still panting hard against your neck, little aftershocks making his cock twitch inside you. His heart's hammering so hard you can feel it against your back.

Jungkook collapses against your back, his legs apparently giving out after how hard he just came. His chest is slick with sweat where it presses against you, and his breath fans hot across your neck. He's still buried inside you, cock softening but still making you feel so full. 

The sound he makes—this low, satisfied groan—is almost cute. Like a big cat after a good meal.

The afterglow starts to settle, leaving this heavy kind of quiet between you. Your breathing starts evening out, going from desperate gasping to something more normal. 

You both just... stay there for a minute, too worn out to move.

Then he just... drops his full weight on you. Like his arms finally give out or something.

The heat of his body wraps around you completely, and maybe it'd be nice if he wasn't crushing your lungs. 

His whole body is radiating exhaustion, and yeah—you get it. That was intense. 

"Jeon, move... you're heavy," you grunt into his pillow. 

Your voice comes out all rough from how loud you were being earlier.

"Give me a second," he mumbles against your skin, sounding just as wrecked as you feel. "You can't expect me to move after fucking you like that." 

He sounds half-joking, half-serious, nuzzling into your neck like he's planning to just stay there forever.

You can't help but laugh at that. Something about seeing Kkangpae's perfect soldier brought down by an orgasm is kind of hilarious. 

You shove at his side, trying to get him to budge.

He doesn't move an inch, the bastard. 

Instead, he has the audacity to suggest something so wild it's weirdly very him.

"How 'bout we fall asleep just like this, me still inside you?" His voice comes out all lazy and satisfied. 

You can tell he's half-joking, but there's this note in his voice that says he's actually considering it.

You reach back to smack him, caught between being annoyed and kind of endeared by how shameless he is. 

"Fat chance, thundercloud," you tell him, but there's no real bite to it. 

He laughs—this deep, warm sound that tells you he's smiling even though you can't see his face.

But you really can't breathe with him crushing you, so you push at him again, harder this time. "Seriously, off. You're heavy as fuck."

He makes this exaggerated groan like you're asking him to run a marathon or something, but finally rolls off you and onto his side. 

His cock slips out (and fuck, that's a weird feeling), and then he sprawls out next to you, throwing one arm over his face as he catches his breath. 

The sight of him like this—all tatted up and muscled, skin still kind of shiny with sweat—is doing things to your brain that you really don't want to examine too closely.

After a few more deep breaths, he sits up with this little sigh like moving is the worst thing ever. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he deals with the condom. 

There's something almost gentle about how he handles it, which is kind of funny considering how rough he w being just a minute ago. He ties it off and tosses it in the trash with this practiced little flick that says he's definitely done this before.

"So, you wanna cuddle?" The teasing in his voice is obvious. 

It's a callback to your conversation earlier, when you were both pretending this was just going to be sleeping.

"Seems like I'm not the one wanting to cuddle after all," you shoot back, matching his tone.

Jungkook gives you that smug little grin.

"Just doing some charity work," he says, voice all teasing and challenging, daring you to argue.

You can't help but scoff. The audacity of this man.

"Charity work? Please. If anyone's being charitable here, it's me."

He laughs—this deep, satisfied sound that fills his room. "Ha. Don't act like you didn't enjoy that just as much as I did."

Well. He's got you there, but you're not about to admit it out loud. Not when he's being this smug about it.

You tilt your head, feeling a crooked smile tug at your lips. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Guess we'll never know."

He shifts closer to you, and fuck—even after everything you just did, your body still reacts to his proximity.

"Maybe I need to fuck you again to find out," he says, voice dropping low enough to make heat pool in your stomach.

"Oh? You sure you can handle another round, tough guy?"

The smirk he gives you is absolutely criminal.

"Sunshine, I've got stamina for days." He says it like he's joking, but something tells you he's not exaggerating.

"For days, huh?" You raise an eyebrow. "Someone's confident."

"Because I know you," he says softly, words ghosting across your skin.

That makes you pause.

Know you? 

He doesn't know you any more than you know him. 

Sure, your bodies seem to speak the same language—the way you fit together, how you respond to each other's touch. 

But that's all this is. 

All it can be. 

Nothing more complicated than pure physical attraction.

But you don't feel like getting into that right now. Not when you're both still riding the high of what just happened.

"Tempting," you say instead, drawing the word out. "But we've got a long night ahead, and I'd rather spend it actually sleeping."

He narrows his eyes at you, looking way too pleased with himself. 

"My bed seems to be the only place you're actually honest," he says, and how does he always have a comeback ready?

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Was that supposed to be a compliment, Jeon? Getting soft on me already?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says, putting on this fake serious face. "Can't have you thinking I actually enjoy your company or something."

"Oh, please. Soft is literally the last word I'd use to describe you." You can't help but smirk at the double meaning.

A yawn catches you off guard—not because you're tired (okay, maybe a little), but because you're actually kind of... comfortable?

Weird. 

"Anyway, time for sleep. That's what we said we'd do, remember?

He literally snorts. "Sleep? After what we just did? You're fucking with me."

"Not anymore, I'm not," you shoot back, and the look on his face is actually priceless.

"Come on," he tries again. "Round two? I promise it'll be worth staying up for."

But you're already settling into his stupidly comfortable bed. "Nope. Some of us need actual sleep, thundercloud."

"Fine," he sighs, all dramatic about it. "But just so we're clear—this isn't me giving up. It's a tactical retreat."

You actually snort at that. "A tactical retreat? Is that what we're calling it?"

"Yeah, well." He pulls the covers up, finally accepting defeat. "Pushy ain't sexy."

You both settle comfortably in the quietness of his room.

And you can't help but ponder.

It's weird how easy this feels—being here with him, joking around after what you just did. 

Like you're not just teammates or gang members or even fuck buddies.

That thought's definitely more scary than it should be.

goal: 480 notes (also lil reminder to go vote fmu 21 and 22 on wattpad after the mass unvoting to restore them, if you enjoy that story as well! (●’◡’●)ﾉ)

if you’ve enjoyed this chapter please consider buying me a coffee!! ☕️ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

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© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[polaris-daydreams]

like calls to like

pairing : dark!benjamin poindexter x dark!reader

warnings : DARK CONTENT ❗❗stalking, blood, murder, background character death, severed hands, unhealthy dependency, delusional thoughts, religious themes and imagery. DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18❗❗

summary : dex starts spiralling when he thinks reader is slipping away from him. but what dex doesn’t know is how deep reader’s jealousy runs.

w/c : 2.3k

a/n : special shoutout to @thevillainswhore bcs we were literally twinning with the same dex fic ideas in chat, it's crazy !! this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit, but i kept rereading her encouragement on this piece and finally finished it. make sure you read mollie’s work when it comes out ! gif credits: @novagif. warning/support divider credits: @cafekitsune. bullseye divider credits: @uzmacchiato. likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, hope you enjoy <3

Dex wishes he never agreed to Ray’s invitation.

He’s trying his hardest to keep his focus on you across the ballroom. Your eyes shine while listening to Ray’s retelling of a mission, delicate hands hypnotizing him as you get too engrossed in explaining your version of the story.

This would've been a pleasant night for Dex. Him keeping a watchful eye on you from afar as you go about your daily life. Just like he used to do before the two of you got together.  A fateful meeting when he realised what a gentle soul you had. It was hard to miss considering the both of you worked as FBI agents. That sort of soft hands and a warm heart didn't belong in your shared line of work. Didn't last long.

Just like how Dex won’t last any longer if this reporter kept clinging on to him. Some amateur writer eager to get a juicy headline instead of a hard hitting story. Dex barely remembers her name but she’s hanging off of his arm, going on and on about how excellent of an agent he is. He doesn't need telling, Dex knows. But he also knows this is a social networking event. Knows that there are cameras all around taking pictures of this interaction. Dex runs his hand down his face, thinking about how the media will spin it this time around.

The woman is too close, too much and too unlike you. Dex's mind is screaming at him. It's taking everything in him to not lose control and throw the glass he's holding to the wall. The grip on his drink makes his knuckles turn white. 

Dex remembers his mantra to be good, good for you. He can't lose control in public or leave a trail of dead bodies again. Not when your teary eyes and wobbly lips flashes behind his eyes every time some dumb motherfucker tries it. The memory of you being the only one there for him, besides Ray, when he was being used as a scapegoat. The evidence on his side was flimsy, and yet you stood strong beside him. Letting the goodness of your heart blind you to his true nature.

His violent tendencies remain shackled only because of you, your pretty hands and soft smiles that bring him back into the light. But it's so hard to be good when the reporter won't take the hint and loops her arm with his. Dex has to close his eyes and think of your perfectly imperfect smile, the melody of your laughter. His other hand not holding the glass faintly twitches, as if he's reaching out to your body in his prayers. But when he soothes the urge to throw something and cracks open his eyes, you aren't in his eyesight anymore.

There’s a faint buzzing in his ear.

He politely (as politely as he can, rage thrumming beneath his fingertips) separates his body from the reporter. Putting on his mask of a charming smile, spouting an excuse about “duty calling” as Dex points towards his boss.

The mask immediately drops as he turns back, shuffling his feet quickly over to where Ray is.

“We caught the culprit in- oh Dex?”

“Where is she?”

Colleagues stiffen at his interruption, stories of his eagerness to use lethal force spreading easily around the office. Ray takes notice of Dex’s rapidly blinking eyes, knows how much he depends on you.

“You just missed her, man. She left for the restroom, it's on the left past the hallway.” Ray supplies it with an easy smile, hoping to calm Dex.

He mutters out a thanks before making his way over to the restroom area. It’s more quiet in the hallway, thick walls muffling the jazz music in the ballroom. Dex thinks he hears a hint of an impact landing and frowns. Picking up his pace, he rounds the corner on the left just as you pull back the door to the ladies.

Dex feels his shoulders relax.

The furrow in his brows vanishing.

Buzzing softening in his ears until it's completely silent.

“Oh!” You jump slightly by his sudden appearance.

“Thought I lost you back there angel. You alright?” 

“Of course, my love. Just had to touch my makeup real quick.” A pretty smile forms on your lips, Dex feels like a lovesick teenager as the nickname falls from it.

Nothing he had worry about, Dex smiles to himself.

Except when you pull the door back a little wider to join Dex outside, his eyes flick up past your head. 

One of the sink mirrors is shattered, he notices.

A glance that ends as quickly as it started, as you tug his arm along. Leading the both of you back to the ballroom, your heels clicking against the hallway floor.

The confusion breezes past his mind when your familiar warmth envelops his bicep. Dex had nothing to worry about.

Dex has everything to worry about. Your routine’s completely changed the past 2 weeks. It started off small. The first week was closing your browser whenever he came around your office cubicle. Turning your phone off and setting it screen down on the table as he joined you on his couch. Dex’s jaw clenched everytime it happened.

The next week had him rescheduling your night dates. Citing extra workload and last minute cases. Dex would stare at your messages, as if burning holes into his phone would make you change your texts.

- My Angel -

sent Tuesday, 5.43 P.M. 

“my lovee, im so sorry but boss just pulled me in a meeting. think its a case briefing, can we reschedule? :((“

sent Thursday, 6.14 P.M.

“sorry lovey !! rookie from forensics messed up the field report and boss is being bitchy. gonna have to move our date.“

sent Sunday, 8.22 P.M.

“dex sorry but i had to go over to rays real quick. his wife called because sammy’s sick and ray’s obviously on that mission with you. don't wait up for me.”

Dex?

Since when the fuck did you call him Dex?

He’d read this specific message over and over. Grip tight around his phone. Not just because of you forgetting the nickname, but because Dex knew Sammy wasn't sick that night. He had bumped into Ray in the locker room while the married man was facetiming his wife. His partner in justice was the only friend he had, so Dex had begrudgingly gotten into frame when Ray beckoned him over. Even shyly entertained his wife’s questions about inviting you over for dinner again. Sammy had popped into frame at the mention of you, complaining that it had been too long since you had showed off your kitchen skills.

“Can she help teach dad how to butcher a turkey properly when you guys visit again? It was like a murder scene when dad tr- Ow!” Sammy’s rambling getting cut off by a soft smack on the head.

This morning was what pulled the last thread of his sanity apart.

Dex tried not to be overcontrolling and paranoid once you had accepted his (obsessive) love, and had started sleeping over at his black and white home sometimes. But that's proving difficult now, the 2 past weeks rattling the system in his brain. The wires fraying, close to snapping. 

Especially when a prime opportunity presented itself.

You were rushing to work on his off day, moving around too fast to notice your daily journal being left behind. It was unlike you to be late, but you'd been more tired lately. Yawning in the office, head drooping in meetings. You take 3 coffees now instead of 2. 5 shots of espresso now instead of 3. 

Dex wonders what's been keeping you away from sleep recently. He wishes he could go back to when he was stalking you. The time he knew where you were, what you were doing throughout the night. Was sure you were safe because he kept an eye on you himself.

His fingers twitch. The urge to reach out and just read your secrets growing.

Dex is just keeping you safe.

Yes, that's right. He’s doing this for your own good.

He gives in to the voice, opening your worn journal. Flipping to the past week and checking your whereabouts.

The buzzing is back.

Tuesday : 

Dunkin Donuts !!

Office - rmb to check evidence and restraining order for case #2937

The Bulletin 

Pizza hut

Birch Street, Higgins Drive Apartments, #09-213

It festers at the back of his mind.

Thursday :

Jimmy’s Breakfast Stop

Office 

Home Depot - supply run

Josie’s

Birch Street, Higgins Drive Apartments, #09-213

Drapes itself over his brain, darkness clouding his judgement.

Sunday :

Krispy Kreme

Office

Birch Street, Higgins Drive Apartments, #09-213 ♡

Dex can’t hear his heartbeat anymore.

He’s spiraling. The thumping of his heart clawing its way into his throat. The buzzing in his ears won't stop even when he presses his palms to his eyes. Dex is losing you. He’s lost you. So he lets that darkness guide him in the absence of your light. 

The familiarity of the scene doesn't surprise Dex. Him waiting out in his car to catch a glimpse of you. It does, however, make him nauseous. He thought he had made so much progress with you. For you. And now Dex is back to stalking you from afar. 

As if you hadn't looked up at him with gentle devotion.

As if you hadn't cradled his face, leaned your forehead against him in an act of sincere adoration. 

As if you hadn't interlocked your hands with his. His hands that he can never truly wash the blood off of. The interlocked hands that you kissed, like you could absolve him of the blood he’s spilt.

Dex inhales sharply when he spots you. Despite his mind descending into madness, he still recognises your shape, your white dress, you. Dex checks his gun one last time. It's not for you. No, never. He could never lay a hand on you. The bullet is for the other person. Whoever that stole you from him. You couldn't have initiated this. No, no. You must have been manipulated. Yes. Yes that must be it. You were coerced into this, and Dex is here to save you. Of course he is. How could you ever live without him ? How could he ever live without you?

A total of 10 minutes has passed. Dex figures now's the time to catch you in the act. Catch his angel by the wings.

He exits the car, gun safely tucked into the side of him.

Dex calmly makes his way over to the building. Thoughts hovering in his clouded mind.

How would he do it?

Dex presses all the buttons on the intercom, someone’s always waiting for someone.

Should he do it fast, a bullet through the heart?

The buzzing of the gate mixes with the buzzing in his head, and he enters the building.

Or make it slow and painful, throw a knife into the aorta.

The elevator carrying him ascends, as Dex’s grip on reality descends.

Maybe he should …

The door is ajar, like somebody broke in.

The buzzing in Dex’s mind makes him woozy, his body moving on autopilot to reach you. Forced entry? Are you okay? Is his angel okay?

Dex nearly launches himself at the door. His knees could give out with how relieved he is to see you. But something's wrong. Your dress is red now. You're all bloody. No. No. You're injured. Someone hurt you. Someone hurt his. He moves without his body even realising. Like a machine going back to its default setting. Taking care of you. Dex nearly trips over something but he doesn't care. All that matters right now is you. His angel. He scans your face and gets the blood splatter all over his hands. He’ll kill whoever was responsible for hurting you. He’d kill himself if he was the reason for this.

But something’s not making sense. Dex can't figure out where the blood is coming from. And you don't seem hurt, distraught or even surprised that he knew where you were. In fact, you look like you're glowing. Like you're coming off from a high. Dex tries to take a step back to examine you as a whole, but he feels something beneath his shoe.

It's a hand.

The buzzing reels back, slowly unveiling his eyes.

Two hands to be exact.

It untangles the claws in his brain.

Sitting in a sea of red.

Retreats to the back of his head.

Dex flicks his eyes to the right.

To the body.

It's the reporter.

Finally, silence.

"Well I figured ... if she couldn't keep her hands to herself ... then she didn't really deserve to have them no? That should teach her a lesson to not touch what's mine".

The words falling out of your mouth should send a chill down dex’s spine. Warning bells should sound off in the back of his mind. But Dex thinks you've never been more beautiful than at this moment.

Your white dress, a canvas for the blood that's still fresh and dripping down from the hem. The bloodlust in your eyes, sparkling with hunger. Chest heaving, sweat trickling down your face from the physical exertion. Your smile is sickeningly sweet.

The clash of your voice against the image of you, like sweet little red riding hood masquerading as the wolf in the enchanted forest.  

Dex removes his hold from your cheeks, letting them fall. He interlocks his fingers with yours, more blood smearing onto his hands. Bringing them close to his lips, he leans down a little. Planting a kiss to your bloody knuckles.

You were Dex’s salvation. And now he’ll be yours. 

A fallen angel. His fallen angel. Dex wants to trace the scars from the wings on your back, get lost in the void of your sinful eyes. Dex would gladly fall down, down, down into the depths of depravity if it meant he could burn right alongside you.

a/n : hehe did you catch the easter egg of jessica jones's childhood home address ? hope the sprinkles of reader's true nature peeking through was easy to understand too :)

no pressure tags for beloved moots : @callsign-fangirl @kyamiia @thevillainswhore @millennialtrashjigglypuff @htchnr @monicfever @melaninjoys

[cryptidstealingyourcreditcard]

What things in HTTYD 3 do you feel like should have been different/fixed?

OH BOY DO I HAVE SOME OPINIONS ON THIS BRACE YOURSELVES

also thank you so much for asking me

let’s start off with the characterization. first, hiccup. where did that pathetic little freakazoid from httyd 1 go??? where did his sass go?? why is he just a cookie cutter stereotypical hero now?????? and i’ll talk about the fact that he just let toothless go later.

fishlegs- it’s been a while since i watched this movie, and if im being perfectly honest i don’t remember much about him in it. but im pretty sure he was kind of just there, yk? like he wasn’t as anxious or funny or nerdy or caring or sensible as he was before. he just seemed kind of bland to me.

snotlout. this fucker. this little bitchboy. he was done so fucking dirty in this movie. why was he so pathetic???? like yeah i get making him mess up occasionally cause haha funny comedic relief. but like. he’s not helpless???? like this is the kid who was literally trained to be the perfect picture of a viking his whole life. he’s the model viking. this is the kid who single handedly took down multiple full grown outcasts on their own island with nothing but a small metal rod and spite at the age of fifteen. he won every thawfest game for years! he’s a good fighter! he’s not useless. and his personality???? GOD. WHAT THE FUCK. why is he flirting with valka, someone who is much older than him and widely viewed (out of canon) to be his aunt??? why the fuck would he say “who died and made you chief?”????? he cried at stoicks funeral! yeah, maybe he would’ve been that much of a dick in the first movie, but there have been three shows, one movie, four(?) shorts, and multiple comics since then!! he’s has so much character growth that they just threw away because haha funny. also his beef with eret was completely unnecessary like even when he was beefing with dagur at least there was some previous thing that started it. his beef with eret just came out of nowhere??

and astrid. they just turned her into the stereotypical hero’s wife. where did her personality go???? and i get the symbolization of her hair progressively getting looser as she gets less uptight and chills out and matures but like… i miss her fuckass emo bangs. give them back. her whole character isn’t supposed to exist solely to support hiccup so why is that the only thing she does in the hidden world???? justice for my girl

now. the twins. oh boy do i have some opinions here.

they were done so fuckikg dirty i’m going to crash the fuck out like why. just why.

let’s start with tuffnut.

starting strong with the fact that he loses his own twin sister who shares a whole dragon with him. then there’s his whole beard thing, which like, isn’t entirely out of character but it sure as fuck wasn’t in character either. now let’s circle back to losing ruffnut. because WHAT THE FUCK TUFF. and then when he realizes she’s gone he just says he’s more worried about her captors?????? DUDE. BRO. MY MAN. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO FAKED HIS OWN DEATH JUST SO THAT HIS SISTER WOULDNT FEEL PRESSURED TO STAY FKR HIM. WHAT HAPLENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO, WHILE STUCK IN A DRAGON TRAP IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, HAD AN ENTIRE IMPROMPTU CONVERSATION WITH BARF ABOUT HOW RUFFNHT MAY FEEL TRAPPED AS A WOMAN IN A MANS WORLD. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO LOST HIS GODDAMN MIND WHEN RUFFNUT GOT CAPTURED??? WHAT HAPLENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO HAD WHOLE ASS HUNTERS RUNNING FROM HIM SCREAMING BECAUSE THEY CAPTURED HIS SISTER???? “that’s my sister out there, astrid. and if this goes wrong, and we don’t save her, i couldn’t live with myself” MY FUCKING ASS. just like snotlout, he was so uncharacteristically insensitive it was insane.

and RUFFNUT.

MY GIRL WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU????

they literally just made her a dumb blonde. she’s not that fucking DITZY. barring httyd 2, she had never previously been boy-crazy. she’s not a flirt, she’s not thirsty, she doesn’t care about romance. and the fact that she said she “never looks back”???? WHAT???? what happened to my girl who faked a breakdown to steal a key from a guard??? what happened to the ruffnut who is constantly giving hiccup inspiration for new inventions????? the fuck do you mean you never look back???? and the fact that she thought she annoyed grimmel into letting her go?? come on ruff. you’re better than that.

and speaking of grimmel. what was that weak ass villain???? dude was just a normal guy. even johann was more intimidating than him. you will never be viggo grimborn. bitch.

and toothless. TOOTHLESS. toothless.

first of all, they flattened his nose. he’s so squished now. on top of that, they rounded his head more, gave him much more prominent brow bones, and pushed his eyes entirely too close together and made them SO square. he’s supposed to look sleek and scary, not boxy and nonthreatening.

and why is he acting like a horny dog??? he’s literally never done that before. the slobbering, and dancing with his own shadow, and ditching hiccup without a second thought was so not like him, and not in a “he’s in love” way. it was in a “the writers don’t know the character” way.

and the fact that he left hiccup once he got his tail????? there was an entire short (gift of the night fury) dedicated to hiccup giving toothless an automatic tail and toothless saying he didn’t want it, he wanted hiccup. be so fucking for real rn dreamworks.

the whole ending was just stupid asf low key

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Gilmore Girls characters reacting to you asking to "try on" their lipgloss/chapstick as a way to kiss them (headcanons)

Characters included: Lorelai, Luke, Rory, Lane, Dean, Paris, Jess, and Logan

Warnings/contains: gn! reader, kissing (obviously), fluffiness, umm nothing other than that I don't think

Beginning notes: this idea is so stupid I know!! but I thought it might be cute to write out okay (I also need to practice writing for these characters more)

Lorelai Gilmore

Oh God. You so much as lightly suggest to wanting to try on her lipgloss or chapstick and she pulls out a whole makeup pouch full of them with all kinds in different flavors and colors and sizes and shapes and-

You can't even get a word in the first couple of minutes that she's speaking because she's taking the time to go through them all, trying to find the best one that would fit you perfectly

She doesn't quite pick up on what you're asking her right away until she finally pauses and sees the shy and somewhat hopeful smile on your face, but once she does catch on she gets all giddy and a little smug, saying something along the lines of "aw, you little rascal you, c'mere" before giving you the kiss you so desired

Luke Danes

He absolutely does not understand what you're trying to ask him at all, mostly because he doesn't wear chapstick anyway. You literally have to spell it for him step-by-step and he still won't get it

"Here, take this chapstick and put it on so I can kiss you"

"Why do I need to put it on for you to kiss me? Are my lips really that chapped?"

"No, it's so I can ask to try the chapstick on and then kiss you afterwards"

"...but I can just give you the chapstick and then have you put it on. Why would I need to put it on first? That doesn't make any sense"

He's basically just like "??" the entire time you're attempting to explain it to him, and he only kind of gets it by the tenth try, though he does manage to pick up on the idea that if he wears chapstick more often you might kiss him more, so your plan sort of ends up working ig

Rory Gilmore

It's a toss-up as to whether she'll immediately pick up on what you're asking her or not, though she'll probably get it within the first couple of minutes or so, her cheeks flushing a rosy hue as she avoids eye contact and stammers a little bit

"W- Well, I think I might have some extra in my bag if you're that desperate... oh, I'm guessing you must've meant the other way you try on someone's lipgloss or chapstick, huh? I should've known"

After that she just sort of awkwardly sits there, waiting to see which one of you is going to make the first move (it's probably going to have to be you) and then after the kiss she seems to be in a daze for a moment or so before clearing her throat and hastily changing the subject

Lane Kim

I actually think she'll pick up on what you're asking her fairly quickly, though she might play dumb unless she's certain the two of you are alone so her mom won't find out she was kissing someone randomly after they posed her such a flirtatious question

She'll most likely let you take the lead (unless you're as inexperienced as she is), melting into it as the kiss goes from a short and sweet peck to something much more tender, almost forgetting what you were even supposed to be doing in the first place

Afterwards, all she can do is say "wow" for the next couple of minutes or so, appearing a little awestruck, though she does make a cheeky comment about how the chapstick/lipgloss you now have on you compliments your complexion once she gets over the initial shock of it all

Dean Forester

He doesn't really get it at first but picks up on what you mean pretty quickly once you explain (thank God) so you're spared the embarrassment of fumbling over your words for any longer than you have to. He thinks it's cute despite you disagreeing with him on that

Makes a big show of applying a fresh layer of chapstick just for you, and is even so kind as to lean down so you're not craning your neck and having to stand up on your tippy toes to be able to reach him

Gives you an affectionate pat on the head once he's done kissing you because he's obligated to make you aware of how short you are compared to him at least once every time you see him while saying "there, happy now?", chuckling as he enjoys the indignant look on your face while you smack his hand away

Paris Geller

She honestly just sort of glares at you when you first ask ("I don't wear lipgloss, and I left my chapstick at home this morning")

Definitely is one where you have to explain to her what you mean, to which she answers with a soft little "oh" in response, almost as if she feels a bit sheepish for her initial aloof demeanor

It's kind of awkward for a couple of minutes after until one of you changes the subject, and you think that's the end of it until later that day when she approaches you, her face red and her lips looking shiny

"If you still want to try it on, you may." When you hesitate, she huffs in aggravation and demands "well? Are you going to try it on or not?"

You don't even think about questioning her further because of how flustered she obviously is, planting an affectionate kiss to her lips before watching in amusement as she stalks away, grumbling to herself as she wipes off the excess lipgloss on the back of her hand

Jess Mariano

Okay say what you will but I think he'd catch onto what you mean fairly quickly, especially if you're looking a little flustered when you ask

"Oh, so you wanna try on my chapstick, do you? In what way, exactly?"

He absolutely teases you first, adding something along the lines of "maybe I forgot to wear chapstick this morning. Still wanna try on my lips and see how they fit? I promise I'll be gentle. I'll only bite if you beg me" while he nuzzles his face against the side of your jaw before finally giving in and kissing you the way you want

Never play the flirting game with him and expect to win is all I can say because he'll come out on top nearly every time

Logan Huntzberger

He's another one who I think would actually understand what you're asking, he just plays dumb at first to see how frustrated he can make you

"Hm, I don't think I have any chapstick on me... didn't I see you grab some before we left, though? Maybe you should check your pockets"

If you were trying to catch him off guard with your question I'm sorry to say it doesn't work. You only realize he's messing with you when you spot the playful grin on his face

"What's the matter? Can't find it? Or did you still wanna try on mine?"

The soft, muffled laughter that escapes him at the insistent kisses he ends up letting you attack him with are so worth the annoyance he made you feel beforehand

End notes: some of these are a little bit longer than others, sorry about that! I tried to keep them all the same length but alas I do not control the little guy in my head who directs me on what to write 😔 /j

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[itsclydebitches]

Watching The Apothecary Diaries and from a character perspective I love the detail of the pipe, the one used in the warehouse explosion. In just a few, literal seconds of storytelling we're shown quite clearly who Maomao is:

She notes that she "accidentally" took the pipe with her. Despite being a poor commoner surrounded by luxury, she resists most temptations towards theft. There's one moment - was it when she went to Ah-Duo's palace? - where she notes that anyone with so many nice things wouldn't notice something small going missing, but then she knocks herself out of that thinking. Maomao isn't some #pure protagonist who'd never even consider such a thing, rather she's an upstanding and smart individual who realizes this is both wrong and, notably, a dumb move if she gets caught. Maomao is careful to ask for the materials she needs to pull off the bomb experiment and there are times when, even basking in a love of herbs, she will not pick them if they're from someone else's garden. Maomao respects others' property and not even her hyperfixations will override that (a common flaw in other single-minded protagonists). This also dovetails nicely into her admission that she and Luomen built a lot of things they needed because she grew up poor. Who's to say how hard someone else worked to make/buy/secure that object?

Sidenote: It's interesting to me that the exception here seems to be Jinshi. Just an episode earlier Maomao tried to fleece him of who knows how much through the sale of Granny's "educational materials," which, you know, is very much theft. Beyond the fact that the general wealth of a noble differs greatly from the specific possession of a commoner (or even a woman concubine), it feels almost... intimate to me? That's not quite the word I'm looking for, but I mean that Maomao allows Jinshi to influence her in ways she doesn't let others, at least outside of her immediate family. Another notable example of that is her unwillingness to fake an interest in him. We see many times over the course of the show - facing off against the women in the outer court, acting as a courtesan for the night, etc. - that Maomao is perfectly capable of playing the smiling, docile, hapless woman society expects. Yet from day one she's refused to apply that mask for Jinshi's sake and, in turn, despises when he turns his charm mask on her. Maomao wants people to exist plainly, just as she normally does... and a part of that is accepting that she's sometimes an imperfect, immoral person. Weirdly, trying to steal from Jinshi feels like an act of trust towards him, both on a safety level (I trust that you won't punish me too harshly if I get caught) and an emotional one (I trust you to see an important part of my character: that I'll bend and even break the rules for my family's sake).

Moving on, Maomao is also incredibly practical and is living under the realities of a) poverty and b) a patriarchal society. She notes many times throughout the series (this episode included) that Luomen is terrible at turning a profit and Maomao herself owes Granny a fair bit. Combine that with the reminder that she was just fired from one position after being kidnapped from another and of course Maomao thinks about selling the pipe. She didn't intentionally steal it and - crucially - she has no reason to think it's still important to the investigation, but now that it's in her possession she might as well make use of it. Clean it up, find a new mouthpiece, and sell it off for a good price. Maomao is constantly thinking about the price of things, particularly in the context of whether she, a commoner, deserves them and that leads to her likewise noting the everyday objects that could make a big difference in her life, things that others don't even notice. For Jinshi that's just a useless stack of papers to burn; for Maomao they're a potential source of income, translating directly to her father keeping a roof over his head. Class is HUGE in The Apothecary Diaries, so of course Maomao takes one look at a beautifully carved pipe and considers how much she could sell it for.

...but she doesn't. Maomao looks closer still, uses those keen deduction skills to assume the pipe may have sentimental importance, and decides to give it back. Laomen isn't in immediate danger of being evicted, she may have just snagged him a new customer in Lihaku, and Granny isn't hounding her too much, so soft-hearted Maomao is going to put practicality aside and return it. Because she is soft-hearted. This is the girl utterly committed to the big gestures - risking exposure to warn two mothers about the poison killing their babies - as well as the small: staying up night after night to sew pockets into everyone's clothes just so they might be a little warmer for one festival. Now here, Maomao decides to still clean up the pipe. It's not enough to just return it, she's going to return it in pristine condition, even though that won't net her anything other than a potential 'Thank you' now. For me, Maomao so often embodies the message that when peoples' basic needs are met, they're then free to be quite kind to one another.

Love this girl. So, so much.

[love-byers]

we all know about the parallel of mike hugging karen when he feels like he's lost will, but i've never seen anyone talk about the other parallels in the s1 and s3 heroes scenes. there are more than you think!

will's fake body being pulled out of the quarry VS will (+ the others) pulling out of the driveway for california

a close up of mike looking at both

mike leaving the scene on his bike after 'losing' will

in one, he has no hesitation. he gets his bike and doesn't look back. not at wills fake dead body, not at el (which would be odd if he knew he was in love with her then...), not at dustin and lucas, not at anyone. he keeps moving forward.

in the other, he is full of hesitation as the other bike away, not looking back. mike stays back and takes one last look at will's house, looking nervous, before hesitantly tearing his eyes away and biking off, trailing behind dustin lucas and max.

do i really need to explain the implications of that....

mike entering the wheeler house visibly upset after losing will, and karen immediately noticing

mike seeking out a hug from karen, something he rarely does

mike hugging karen

note how both clips end with mike moving/sinking deeper into the moment. i'm not sure what the best way to describe this is, but im talking about mike shoving his face into karen's shoulder in the s1 scene and his eyes flicking down in the s3 scene. i know it seems like it doesn't matter, but it does. sprinkling things like that in as a director is purposeful! it's showing how mike is processing the events. in s1 he sinks deeper into karen's comfort, further breaking down because he thinks will is dead. in s3 he doesn't do that. he is extremely still, eyes not moving as he is in shock. then his eyes do move at the last moment, showing he is further processing whatever event has occurred, transitioning from shock to really processing whatever happened.

raw emotion vs icy shock.

and oomf @reo-bylerwagon who is a film major told me that the way the camera tilts upward in the s3 clip is used to show that a realization has occurred, or that something new is being revealed. does that not PERFECTLY line up with:

1. the way mike seems extremely shocked as though he has realized something huge

2. the fact that LITERALLY over that moment is a hopper voice over where he says "to turn back the clock, to make things go back to how they were"

and 3. the way he behaves in s4 (being weird about touching will, rink o mania, etc.)

so yeah, these are definitely parallels through and through and it's really interesting. mike has lost will in both, but in different ways. his reactions say a lot about how he's processing the events and how he views them/his relationships.

also reminder that this is not delusional in the slightest because heroes has only played twice and it's in these two sequences.

and to anyone thinking "well they're just trying to show that mike deeply cares for will, just not in a romantic way!"

......

why in the fresh FUCK would they eat up SO MUCH screen time to show that mike platonically cares about will, rather than use that time to develop his relationship with el and, i don't know, show that he loves her??? why would they feed into will's unrequited love like this??? spoiler alert: THEY AREN'T.

that would be doing WAY too much for a relationship that will end in an amicable split so one can get married and one can get over his deep seeded love for the other and navigate the (extremely homophobic) world alone.

like yall are very clearly not writers or creatives in the slightest 💀💀💀 any writer (or anyone with the faintest creative/analytical bone in their body) will immediately understand why that's fucking dumb and makes no sense. yall are just heteronormative af and instead of admitting that it's greatly affecting your perception of the characters you double and TRIPLE down until you sound like a homophobic disaster

also

season 1 - heroes plays (when mike feels like he lost will)

season 2 - heroes does not play

season 3 - heroes plays (when mike feels like he lost will)

seasons 4 - heroes does not play

season 5 - heroes will play...? perhaps the original david bowie version? and byler will finally kiss as though nothing could fall and the shame will be on the other side? and they can be heroes? just for one day?

so yeah anyways byler endgame

[celaenaeiln]

I literally can't take it anymore. I need to get this out of my system. This is a hate-rant about why almost every single thing Tom Taylor has written is wrong.

First and foremost is the bimbofication of Dick Grayson. Tom Taylor loves to write him like this idiot who doesn't think at all. Being cheerful does not mean being dumb.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

"You seem unusually contemplative"? All Dick does is contemplate!

Nightwing (1996) Issue #3

His mind is always running!

Nightwing (2011) Issue #13

Nightwing (2016) Issue #38

I just picked a random issue from all of these comics and in every single one of these, Dick's planning, thinking, and strategising constantly.

Tom Taylor literally treats him like he's stupid or something.

Also the degradation of his abilities

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

A vigilante for 20 years. Who has faced assassins, hitmen, psychos, surprise attacks, metas, and you're telling me he didn't know that a untrained kid snuck up and stole from him?

He forgot who he was, he didn't forget where he lived! Even when he was Ric Grayson, Dick had procedural memory. His battle instincts stayed with him.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #52

"Then...I didn't even know what I was doing. I took him down--took him apart in seconds."

This man is a vigilante machine when he was amnesic. Why the heck would Dick ever let his guard down?

His robin reference

Nightwing (2016) Issue #92

Even Bruce in Batman: Hush has said it-Dick was the best. His skills were the best of anyone he's witnessed which is one of the reasons why Bruce let him be Robin in the first place.

This scene is so wrong that there's a robin scene that came out before this in direct opposition of this Tom Taylor Shitshow.

Robin & Batman Issue #1

This was actually pre-robin. Bruce had him do a solo-trial run to see his skill before he made him Robin and this was the result. Compare that to Tom Taylor's scene and the result is humiliating. For Taylor.

Tom Taylor's version of trying to show that Dick loves the people comes off as him hating crime-fighting. RIP the whole Robin firing drama and Nightwing birth i guess.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

"We could have avoided all of this if we'd just stayed in and eaten kibble."

Nightwing (1996) Issue #3

Dick would rather die than stop crime-fighting. After Blockbuster's first attempt, his life was hanging on by a thread and he still continued crime fighting.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #91

After Blockbuster blew up his apartment, this is the single-minded determination Dick had to continue crime-fighting. This is him at one of the worst lows of his life but he refused to give up but now? He has everything and Dick wants to ignore the murder of a child to stay inside and eat kibble which - what the heck? I know he's seen as a happy character but him finding dog-food desirable is too far!

Also the idiocy of which Tom Taylor had Barbara calling the cops in Bludhaven for a stolen wallet. Newsflash! This isn't her first rodeo here.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #81

vs

Nightwing (2016) Issue #24

Nightwing (2011) Issue #23

Given how Dick's easily defeated enhanced metas and "very good" fighters, him falling down the stairs is a little to absolutely impossible to believe.

Another thing I love about Dick that Tom Taylor deciminates is his grace. Dick is the most graceful person in DC. His balance easily matches Selina's enhanced cat powers.

But yet. You have.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #83

Nightwing (2011) Issue #23

yeah. okay.

Taylor's motorbike scenes of Dick make me so mad. The boy is a pro at crazy. It's one of his best traits because he does the wildest stunts and he pulls it off.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #93

Nightwing (1996) Issue #86

He lands on his feet. He grabbed a villain mid-air, crashed into a window, and was perfectly fine. Actually no, he's not fine because he's worried about his bike's paint job.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #24

He just sailed over a whole crowd of people and started kicking butt like what he just did wasn't extraordinary - which for him is just another tuesday.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #95

yeah, tell 'er Dick.

He doesn't need someone to hold his bike.

One of the worst things in Taylor's run is how Blockbuster went down. It suddenly reminded me of Selina's stupid ideology which is why I think I got so ticked off.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #96

Blockbusters' thugs loyalty to him isn't a make it or break it deal. He's one of strongest criminal organisations and the knowledge that he owns one of the worst prisons that he could easily put his underlings into would've instilled fear into his thugs, not freedom. Furthermore Blockbuster takes good care of his people that don't piss him off. He teamed up with Nightwing in the scarecrow era in Nightwing (2016) because someone was messing with his people. He's extremely intelligent and superstrong, and he's not just going to be brought down by the knowledge that he owns a prison. It's Bludhaven. If he didn't, then there would be something suspicious given that he runs the city. It's the way Taylor dumbs down Bludhaven's villains that gets to me. Imagine him writing Batman (2016). It's like saying, "yeah the Joker was just a little misguided but he found the right way again after a stern talking to by Batman."

Nightwing is a big name.

When Dick first came to Bludhaven, one of the police officers was like we don't want your crazy here or something. Also Bludhaven loves Nightwing. They want him.

So why is everyone pretending like they don't know who he is?

Nightwing (2016) Issue #90

The police, the citizens, the villains-all of them. Dick fought Brutale and beat the crap out of him way back in 1996 comic. He's a Bludhaven regular. Just because Dick forgot who he was doesn't mean anyone else forgot him. Amnesia doesn't work that way.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #54

A whole team of Nightwings were formed during Dick's amnesic period because of how badly he was needed and missed. It's almost like the Tom Taylor run is set in an alternate universe.

I ran out of image space but what the absolute fiddlesticks is up with Dick being scared to jump. It better be a manipulation tactic but at this point I think Tom Taylor doesn't even know that Dick is manipulative.

[digitalninjaa]

much different from my usual content but i wanted to take the opportunity to rant about these two

within the twdg community there’s such an issue of a lack of understanding and empathy, especially when it comes to characters who are minors/children like ben. it’s easier to understand someone’s dislike for nick since he’s an adult and is perfectly capable of understanding his actions, but everyone forgets that ben is literally a teenager who was just trying to do his best in the most god awful situation you could put a teenager in. i also really hate how he was dumbed down in the crawford episode for the sake of plot convenience. i really feel like he was out of character within the latter half of s1, as he was presented as the type of kid who always had everyone else’s best interests at heart, but then his character is just boiled down to being a coward. him leaving clem behind on the streets of savannah was his biggest ooc moment in my opinion. i did really enjoy his scene where he snapped at kenny, though. his VA did a great job. i wish they’d explored his friendship with clementine more, they were so adorable together ): he could’ve had the most goated character development. i mean, imagine if he was clem’s new proposed “guardian” in s2 instead of kenny or jane.

and don’t even get me STARTED on nick. the writers just screwed the poor guy over for the most part. his guilt and humanity is well written but it goes absolutely nowhere beyond episode 2. he was presented as a secondary protagonist with the matthew situation but depending on if you save his life in episode 1 or 2, he literally just stops existing and is killed off screen in the lamest possible way. not to mention luke, his supposed best friend of 20 years couldn’t give less of a crap about his death. he makes a sad face and says “damn” and nothing related to nick is ever acknowledged past that. nick could’ve also had some super awesome character development. it would’ve been unbelievably way more interesting if HE was the one that lost his shit and beat carver’s face in instead of kenny. or luke, but that’s a rant for another time. they could’ve went the more predictable route and had him become a parallel to pete and become close with clementine in a big brother sort of way, and that would’ve been infinitely better than what we ended up with. i love ben and nick so much and it upsets me when i see casual fans or people within the community failing to understand their characters and boiling them down to “thank god this guy died he was annoying af 😹😹😹”

[cherrygirlfriend]

the obx fandom just full of airheads bruh 😭😭😭😭😭😭 it hurts that most of us are women too. Don't get me wrong i love the show and a lot of the writers here are really talented but the way a lot of y'all refuse to just *think* 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 omfg god im crying we should be better than this bruh... literature has always been political in some way that's unavoidable bc our existence itself as humans in this society is inherently political. fanfiction might not be intentionally about politics but the concepts and ideas we use—our very own perception of love and the way human relationships work in itself are always somehow influenced by politics and social structures. the show itself, obx is literally about class struggle (kook vs pogue) and when writers write about kook!reader or pogue!reader, their dynamic with rafe is almost always heavily dependent on their class/social status.

hell, literature and art itself has always been used as political propaganda. fanfiction isn't immune to this bc fanfiction is literally a part of mainstream culture 😭 most of yall who romanticize misogyny have been exposed through so much propaganda through the sudden influx of tradwife and redpill content on social media, books, and movies the past years and it's slipping through the fanfiction you write and consume to the point that you're also subconsciously churning out even more propaganda. the govt machinery infiltrates through our media, art, film, and literature to sell a romanticized/glorified/fetishized idea of sexism, homophobia, racism, etc —> influencers and creators spread and dumb these ideas down to more subtle, relatable, and almost innocent content to thousands of audiences—> these ideas become popularized and are successfully assimilated by the public to the point that the government doesn't even have to put effort on propaganda bc it's become so ingrained to the people's beliefs that they're now regurgitating the same propaganda subconsciously —> these ideas become so normalized to an extent that it has become a part of our culture again —> mindless consumption is in, critical thinking is out (e.g. "it's just fanfiction, it's not that deep!") to prevent people from questioning culture and challenging ideas and beliefs —> the cycle repeats.

i know this long-ass rant is making me sound like a crazy conspiracy theorist rn but i fear, this is literally just a product of critical thinking and attending highschool history lessons. nazi germany didn't become what it was bc the entire country suddenly decided "ah, yes, killing jews is perfectly right and necessary" no, it took years of propaganda dehumanizing jews through science, education, media, art, film, and literature that people has accepted as their culture because THEY WERE RESTRICTED FROM THINKING CRITICALLY. ik it's crazy to compare nazism with some sexist fanfiction but do y'all not see the same pattern happening again??? "omg being used as a breeding machine is so lana del rey coquette 1950s babydoll old hollywood divine feminine aesthetic <333 sexism so kawaii bows and ribbons, hearts and glitter !!!" DO YALL HEAR HOW FUCKING INSANE SOME OF YALL SOUND?????? 😭😭😭😭😭 you're regurgitating the same shit bigots like charlie kirk, ben shapiro, and andrew tate are saying but make it pink.

now, i'm not saying we should make fanfiction "political" or make it about politics all the time but god just fucking think, people !!! 😭😭😭😭😭 you cannot incorporate something as political as "sexist!rafe" into your work and just turn your brain off and go "not everything is political!" bc news flash sexism IS political.

disclaimer: i have nothing against the housewife trope as long as the character was treated with respect and love or if not, her struggles are at least not written to be something "romantic" or "hot." i'm not at all against depictions of sexism or bigotry in art, media, or fanfiction. i think it could be a great concept to explore how gender norms, like i said, influence power dynamics within our relationships and our general perception of love, when done WITH SENSITIVITY AND NUANCE. but when it's straight up romanticization and fetishization, then i'm sorry but it's just conservative propaganda slop.

i feel like this pretty much encapsulates my thoughts 😭

[rip2mycarradio]

bf!calum hood thoughts

i love him!!!! also will flag when content gets suggestive ;)

˚༺☆༻

— calum is a nerd. bro literally went to a REN FAIR. made a tiktok with tarot cards in a lord of the rings shirt. and so that being said, 100% some nights would be spent tangled up, watching game of thrones. he’d sit slouched deep into the couch, one arm lazily wrapped around your shoulders, the other holding a half-empty bowl of popcorn balancing on his stomach. his eyes would be fixed on the screen, lips parted in disbelief as another character would meet a gruesome end. “that’s the third one tonight,” he’d mutter, voice hushed like it was a funeral. you’d snort beside him, snuggling in closer. “you get more emotional over this show than you did when i twisted my ankle.” and he’d look down at you, all serious. “yeah, but you didn’t get stabbed in a castle, did you?”

— calum has this habit of playing with your fingers when he wasn’t really thinking—like when you were both half-asleep on the couch or waiting in line for coffee. he’d just grab your hand, absentmindedly tracing circles on your palm or lightly tugging at your pinky, like he needed something to do, and you were just his favorite thing to fidget with. sometimes he’d braid your fingers together and then whisper dumb little jokes under his breath, just to make you smile without even looking up

— calum always made sure your shoelaces were tied, even if you insisted you were fine. it didn’t matter if you were rushing out the door or standing in a crowded venue parking lot, if he spotted them loose, he was already crouching down with a dramatic sigh, mumbling something like, “can’t have you face-planting in front of thousands, can we?” and flashing you that crooked grin. sometimes he’d double knot them just to mess with you, then kiss your knee like it was some kind of ceremony. “there. safe and cute.”

˚༺☆༻

suggestive/smutty content ahead!!

— calum’s kisses are always a bit more than just kisses—he wouldn’t just like press his lips to yours; he’d pull you in with a steady intensity, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that’d make your stomach flip. he’d tease you first, soft, light pecks, just to get you wanting more, before deepening it, his big hand slipping to your neck, pulling you closer, until there was no space between you. it’s usually not rushed, just this lazy, intoxicating dance, and he always made sure you were just as breathless as he was by the time he finally pulled away, whispering against your lips, “you make it so hard to stop.”

— calum eats you out like it’s a professional sport. sometimes, because he’s selfish, the thought of you cumming too soon would send him into genuine panic. his eyes would flash in alarm at the thought of it ending too soon, a guttural moan leaving his lips as he’d continue to lap at you, his tongue swirling and his fingers curling. “not yet,” he’d rasped, lifting his chin to speak, his lips and chin all slick. “please not yet.”

— drunk kisses with calum would start out slow, a little clumsy, laughing between kisses because neither of you could seem to get the angle right. but then he’d pull you in tighter, his hands finding the curve of your back, and suddenly everything felt more urgent. his kiss turnz deeper, messy with the buzz of alcohol, but that didn’t stop either of you. his tongue would slide against yours, lazy but insistent, and you’d moan low into the kiss, the taste of him and whiskey mixing perfectly. it was heated, stumbling, hands grabbing at each other like you couldn’t get enough, and when he’d pull away, panting against your lips, he’d flash you a boyish grin—one full of promise.

˚༺☆༻

guys i promise im gonna get better at writing smutty stuff……..,,, anyway lmk if you like it or don’t ok bye

[deniable-masterpiece]

Imagine you have a quartet with Logan, Steve Rogers, Thor (in my opinion the most massive Marvel characters) in what position would you put them?

It's funny you say Logan is one of the 'most massive' when, in the comics, he's one of the shortest male heroes. But I know you mean movie Logan, who is played by Hugh who is 6'3. Chris E. and Chris H. are 6'0 and 6'3 respectively, so that makes each of the heroes they play both wide and tall, perfect to get absolutely pounded by.

This is honestly such a hard pick because each is so perfectly sculpted and varied in size--Steve being the smallest of the three yet still massive, Logan being in the middle where he's the same height as Thor but not as wide or beefy, and Thor being the biggest and beefiest of the three--makes it hard to know exactly where each one should go. Do I want Thor on top, completely weighing me down while he bounces on my dick or do I want him to be the big top that I can hold on to in so many areas? And where would the other two even go- because Thor is BIG. They'd have work around all that and it'd be like having too many cooks in the kitchen: someone's going to get burned.

If we're going according to canon, Logan would have to be on the bottom of whatever position the four of us try to assemble. He has bones made of literal metal and weighs down things like motorcycles and cars, so having that physically on top of me in any way would probably be detrimental to my safety (which would be hot, but let's try to keep the broken bones to a minimum.) So, I'm picturing him physically on the bottom, like laying on a bed or couch while we straddle him. The only other way it could work is if he's holding us, but it would be hard to allow the others to work themselves in if that was the case. Unless, of course, one watched while the other came up behind us and sandwiched us between themselves and how we're positioned with Logan and did some good old double penetration. Besides, I'd love to have Logan take control in this and be the leading man. He's cranky and grouchy and wants his way to be the only way, so I can see him taking charge and being the main one actually having sex with you. Though, it would be pretty funny to see Thor's ego come into play and put Logan down for not being a god or anything, but Logan has a few choice words to say that will get Thor to back off in this scenario. (Or maybe they fight and their powers come out, and suddenly, you're being lightly shocked by Thor to make you dumb on his dick so you can't get off of him for the others to enjoy, keeping you to him. But Logan's claws and Steve's shield are out and at the ready to be used on you... ugh I love superpowered superhero sex)

With Logan working on the bottom to fuck you, or you ride him--your choice on which could happen--we can place the other two around him. I'm trying to not be so repetitive as the previous ask involving Peter, Bucky, and Matt but because it also involved four people, I feel like I will inevitably repeat myself. We're riding Logan while he's sprawled out, and maybe Steve is riding his face and making out with us and we play with the front of his body, worshipping his chest and pits too. Thor could fuck Logan if he wanted since he could probably handle that metallic bone weight better than us.

If we're not going according to canon and just size alone, I would say that Thor should have us in his lap while facing him and Logan pounds us from the back and alternates with Steve, and when one of them isn't behind us, they're either watching and jerking off or making you suck them off or play with them in some way with your hands. Or, we could eat them out (have you seen Steve and Logan's asses? Logan in that one scene when he goes to sit on the motorcycle and you can just see that ass- or Steve in basically every scene because Chris has such a fatty). But honestly, I would love to hold onto Thor's fat pecs and suck and worship them because they look so tasty. So, if we're occupied with that, the person not on us will be forced to watch.

And even more honestly, it would be hot if all of them were bottoms (or dom tops who like having their ass played with- I hate how binary the sexual landscape and preferences are tbh...) and we lay down on the bed and let them have their way with us. One rides our dick, the other rides our face and the other rides our toes or something, maybe just sits on our chest and grinds against whatever they can while waiting for a turn and spends that time making out with one of the other guys.

I should really flesh one of these out into an actual fic but thinking about the positions the would be in... mmm

[rory-multifandom-mess]

I finished catching up on BFDI and I wanna give my final (not really) thoughts on it. Yes I was thinking about this the entire time I was taking a shower. And yes I did accidentally spend too much time in there because I was focusing too hard. What do you want from m

Anyway I'm putting it under a cut because I'm so so nice

TL;DR: I REALLY LIKE TPOT & BFDI people aren't looking at it DEEP ENOUGH. AAAGH

Ok so basically. I don't think BFDI was ever about the prize. Well maybe in the first season when Cary and Micheal had no idea what they were doing because they were like 12. But y'know. Anyways.

I think, over time, the series became focused on the contestants more than anything. It started to focus more on relationships, how the characters interacted with each other and their surroundings and circumstances. It became like a ... not a message. What's the word. A story, I guess. About how easily relationships can be changed, good or bad, maturing and growing, learning to respect boundaries, finding a soulmate. All of this stuff packaged in like. 5 seasons. kind of.

Like. Firey and Leafy for example. They were good friends until Firey refused her entry into Dream Island when he won. She got angry and jealous and felt betrayed, so she Fucking Stole It from him, breaking his trust. And for the longest time they stayed strained. Nobody liked Leafy, not even Firey, and that hurt Leafy a lot, I imagine because she'd been isolated for so long. But through communication and almost forced proximity, they managed to work things out. While it took them a little while, they finally reconciled. They forgave each other. They realized that their friendship was more important than some dumb prize. This is really important to me I think. It's such a strong message- that nothing- nothing- is more important than connecting with other people.

And I think what perfectly contradicts this is Pencil in TPOT and. a lot of Golf ball too. Golf Ball says it herself in the most recent episode- she'd been so focused on winning that she hadn't realized she was hurting people- Donut literally had to shout that at her for her to realize that.

Meanwhile, because of Pencil's tarnished relationship with Book and Ice Cube - and the trauma that came with being trapped in Four's head for years - she's become jaded almost. She doesn't care who she hurts or what she has to do, she can't go back there. Even though she wouldn't-- there's a new host, with a new elimination area. I know her """"Crashout"""" scene gets dogged on a lot, but it's genuinely a super powerful scene. It's a view into her mind, into what she's thinking. She's not thinking rationally. She doesn't care if the timeline is ruined, she has to win.

I think another big reason why Pencil is the way she is is. well. she was away from everyone for years. Things have changed so much. Freesmart is gone. Match isn't by her side anymore. Everyone is so different. She wants things to go back to how they were before Four and X showed up, I think that's why she's so adamant on Book joining her alliance.

Meanwhile, Book is already learning to move on. She's making new friends like with Winner and Price Tag, she made up with Ice Cube and Gaty by giving them the space they wanted. In a way, Pencil and Book are very good foils of each other. One can't move on, while the other is already on her way, working her way towards betterment.

Pin and Coiny are a good example of another thing-- codependency. Ok that's not the right word I think but it's similar. She relies on him so much. They've stuck with each other since BFDI I think, they've been through so much together- him getting eliminated in TPOT was hard for her because of this. And also the fact his elimination was during a high-stress situation. She used his ass as a shovel wdym thats not love LMFAO. Anyway.

I just. AAGAH. There's so much more I could say, so many good examples, but this'll get way too long if I keep going. Final message is this:

Don't judge things at surface level. Looking deeper into things is how you find a deeper appreciation for it, even if there's flaws. The BFDI series is very good and well written, and the attention it gets is much deserved.

Oh and btw if anyone disses you for liking TPOT or any object show in general I will personally kill them for you ok? ok. Thanks for reading guys I'm totally normal about the characters in this show

[everykindofnerd13]

Dude I love haikyuu so much. That’s basically my catchphrase rn. I call my friend and open the conversation with “I love Haikyuu” and proceed to wax poetic about the intricacies of Kageyama and Hinata’s relationship. Or the parallels between Oikawa and Kageyama. Or how Haikyuu is such a perfectly written story because even though we will always want more we will never feel that we are left wanting.

Haikyuu had an incredible beginning, middle, and end. Every character and arc felt intentional and essential. And at the end of the manga there is not one character who I feel needed just that little bit more development. Sure would I have liked to see more timeskip? Absolutely. Would I KILL to see Hinata’s second and third years of highschool and the evolution of the Karasuno first year’s relationship, in a heartbeat. But I don’t feel like it was necessary.

That’s what makes Haikyuu so good, every moment felt necessary and it added to the plot. Even the dumb silly little moments where they’re just teenage boys being teenage boys. I fact that ADDS to it. So much of haikyuu’s story is about Hinata is learning and growing and improving, and it’s because he is meeting and loving and encouraging. Like how do I explain this? Hinata, to me, is a character who cares so much that it forces the people around him to care.

Especially his teammates. I’m sure there are arguments to be made for other characters, but Hinata is the HEART of Karasuno. He’s literally the one who gets their blood pumping. I MEAN COME ON IN THE NATIONALS NEKOMA V KARASUNO MATCH KENMA LITERALLY DESCRIBES THE TEAM AS A GROUP OF HINATAS WHEN THEYRE PUMPED UP. He is their energy. And in return they are his support. If Hinata is the heart then they are the rest of the body. I could give you an analogy for each one but I don’t have to because you can see it, once Hinata starts pumping up, everyone else falls into their role with ease.

He is such a perfect MC and I LOVE HIM. And I LOVE HAIKYUU. AND IM SO GLAD THAT IT DIDNT GO ON FOREVER OR END WITH HUNDREDS OF UNANSWERED QUESTIONS. The fate of a story is for it to end. And the purpose of a story is for it to teach. And the desire of a story is for it to create emotion. And Haikyuu did all of these things so well. I could go on and on, I’m sure as you’ve already noticed, but it’s just because I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

I genuinely recommend Haikyuu to anyone as a first anime, it’s entertaining, it’s reasonably concise, and it’s deeply moving. Haikyuu tells a good meaningful story with action and excitement and grief and despair all without ever causing any real harm. Haikyuu creates the feeling of a villain while also giving you the gift of another perspective on the court.

It is. Amazing. I love Haikyuu. If you made it this far, thank you and good night.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Not sure what made me realize this, but outside of the hero side of the plot for Volpina & Chameleon, S1-5 Marinette's victories over Lila were always handed to her.

Think about it, it was Adrien's actions during Ladybug that made Lila back down and allowed Marinette to return to the school, Lila flat out won during the civilian side of Revelation and handed the win herself to Marinette during its hero plot onlt after getting what she wanted, and of course who could forget the problematic episode Confrontation were Sabrina was retcon into having a moral compass out of the blue which resulted in her telling Marinette what was going on thus leading to Marinette's victory.

Hell technically an argument could be made that if it wasn't for Alix, Lila would have won during the london special too.

That issue goes beyond the Lila stuff. Marinette was also randomly given Gabriel's identity and the Emilie video that "defeats" him. She did all of nothing to find the big bad or learn his weaknesses. Marinette didn't even know that Emilie was in the basement until the fight happened! In other words, Ladybug could have been anyone and the fight would have played out the exact same way. That is not how you write a unique and interesting lead character or a unique and interesting boss battle!

Of course, like most of the writing issues, this isn't unique to Marinette. It's a systemic issue. Almost every major victory in the show came from sheer dumb luck and/or the writers forcing it. Since most of the major victories go to the villains, let's just focus on them for now.

Example 1: Gabriel getting all the miraculous at the end of season four came from Felix randomly showing up with the miraculous, something Gabriel absolutely did not plan for. He didn't even know Felix was in Paris! Gabriel's actual plans failed, but the writers wanted him to win, so he was handed a victory.

Example 2: Felix getting all the miraculous also wasn't the result of careful planning. His plan was to steal the peacock from Gabriel and it failed! If Felix had tried that plan on any other day, then it would have been a total loss for his character, but he just so happened to switch places with Adrien on the right day for him to be handed victory. Even then, the writers had to break the lore to give it to him. That video rants about the pre-season five crap, but after Intuition, the season four ending is even more embarrassing from a writing standpoint. Intuition is the episode where Gabriel couldn't win even though he had the snake because the lucky charm always gives the heroes a victory no mater the situation. That rule that should have applied in the season four final, too. The idea that Ladybug messed up the lucky charm by not realizing that it was telling her where the akuma's object was hidden is absurd. I don't think that the lucky charm has ever worked that way before or since this episode. Her interpretation of the charm was perfectly in line with the way it has worked in other episodes where she was told to get a temp hero. Especially since the charm had the previous day's date!!!

Ladybug: A ticket for the Jardin des Plantes? It's from yesterday... (gasps) I know! I've gotta put an end to this madness ASAP! (leaps off)

Example 3: The season five final sees Lila get the butterfly, but there's literally no reason why that should have happened. How did she know where the final fight was going down? How did she know that the butterfly would be up for grabs? How did she manage to get to the butterfly without Ladybug seeing her? Your guess is as good as mine.

I could go on, but hopefully you see my point. The writers seem to have no idea how to write characters who pull off complex plans in order to win in part because the kind of smart and clever characters Miraculous begs for can't exist in the type of show Miraculous is.

A character like Marinette should have spent the entire show trying to find Gabriel. I can buy her failing that mission since it's a needle-in-a-haystack scenario, but she still should have been actively trying. Same goes for Alya, especially once she became Rena Furtive. But that kind of thing would require serialized elements and Miraculous has vowed to avoid those so you get characters that can't fully embrace their intended role, leading them to feel worthless and inadequate in that role because the show's basic format inherently undermines their characters.

Marinette and Alya are the most glaring victims of the problem, but Felix and Lila bother me more. While the girls are failed in the large scale, Marinette and Alya do get genuine moments of intelligence on the small scale because they have lots of small problems to solve. I want more for them, but at least their intelligence has some substance. Meanwhile Felix and Lila are antagonists who primarily operate via complex schemes that need multiple episodes to be properly set up. Because those schemes can't be set up over multiple episodes, they all feel asinine!

Marinette getting expelled in Ladybug is a perfect example so let's give it a brief glance to show what I mean. Everything Lila does in that episode was nonsense, but to keep this quick we'll just look at the first step of her plan:

Miss Bustier: I've graded your mock exam papers. Most of you did quite well, some better than others, but before I hand them back, Marinette, could you bring your schoolbag to me, please? I need to check something. (Marinette does so) Today, someone placed an anonymous note in my mailbox, claiming that you'd stolen the exam answers, and it looks like the anonymous person was right! (Everyone gasps)

Why would Marinette still have the answers in her backpack after the test was over and graded? Why would she have the answers on her at all? A big sheet like that would be glaringly obvious during a test. To cheat effectively, Marinette would have either memorized the answers or put them on something smaller that was easier to look at during a test. Also why would she cheat on a mock exam? And how did Lila get the answers in Marinette's backpack? How did Lila get the answers at all? How did she know that Marinette was going to get a perfect score? Everything about this frame job is terrible, but the writers can't give us a good frame job because a good one would take too long so we get this nonsense instead.

Like most instances of a character being smart and clever, this episode gives the veneer of Lila being smart and clever, but if you think about any of it for more than two seconds, it all falls apart. Nothing she tried here would have actually worked. The same can be said any time a character has to do a clever thing that needs multiple episodes of setup to really work. The show can't do multi-episode plots so you get shoddy hack jobs instead.

[darkfictionjude]

Okay so I know this is a touchy subject already especially since certain people have already been bitchy about it before, but sometimes Crowny is genuinely difficult to play as. I feel super conflicted about them since they're the literal personification of "damn bitch you live like this?"

Realistically, progress isn't linear and different people get different results even if they do the exact same thing, but as of now it feels like they aren't really allowed to improve at all. If you study you're still mediocre leaning towards bad in terms of understanding. You try to workout you see absolutely no results, not even the tiniest bit. When it comes to the other characters, it's always one step forward and two steps back. When you give them a hobby or try to get them to pick up a skill they find little enjoyment. When people bother them they barely fight back or even argue, and when they do it's like a sarcastic quip or a grumble at most. By the end, they haven't even made a dent. These don't make them less of a person and it doesn't make them a failure since the world is quite literally out to get them, but it's like they aren't allowed any satisfaction in their life. (Yeah it's been like a month, maybe barely scratching two in the current timeline so maybe this contradicts what I first said about progress but I'm dumb as hell)

It's wild to go from the side quests, backstory segments, interactions with the ROs and then Crown family just for all the hype to fade when there's a segment with just Crowny all alone. I know that there's a reason for why they are the way they are, but I literally have to take breaks from reading their solitary moments sometimes because it seems to drag on. I know things aren't easy in this universe, I know the world is supposed to be cruel and unfair, but like can they at least get a cake for their efforts? Or a hug? Or be able to sleep through one night and wake up well rested?

I hope I'm not sounding like an asshole or a insane here. Personally, they're relatable in a lot of aspects. I may not have had supernatural shit going after me, but I had a lot of issues that many of their experiences brush way too close to. It's just the way it's presented that makes them feel like they're like the random piece of chewy cartilage in an otherwise perfectly cooked steak, unpleasant but I'm gonna eat it anyway.

I literally just wrote a whole ass book complaining, but I at least wanna say I do love your work, Crowny included even if my words seem to say otherwise, and I'm super excited to see what happens in the timeskip since i know this is like JUST the beginning. I'm like seriously praying my tone is coming off the right way if that's even possible. If you read through all this thanks. I'm not gonna hide behind anon because I at least wanna be able to explain myself if this comes across wrong.

but like can they at least get a cake for their efforts? Or a hug? Or be able to sleep through one night and wake up well rested?

Well no 😭😭

And that comes from the fact that they are self loathing, depressed as hell and have virtually no support system while dealing with things that they aren’t mature enough to handle, actually their mental health is getting far worse which is by design

I feel like perhaps some readers have not realized just how depressed crowny is. All the things you described about them finding little enjoyment, etc., are key markers of major clinical depression

I feel also people did miss the fact that crowny kind of exploded in the library they didn’t shut up, they didn’t let it go which I think is a positive because this is the first time they’ve have enough to say “enough”

Sorry but I like my things slow burn 💀 that Halloween party is meant to be a breakthrough for them and I think perhaps it’s been glossed over by some because what happened to James has gotten the most attention and the final moment in the woods. Crowny outed their “friends” for the first ever and fought back against their tormentor in only one single night. James for all his issues did the one thing that broke the camel’s back and pushed Crowny over the edge, all 7 episodes have led to this

Crowny is meant to fall before they come up that’s how I wanted it because realistically someone could not handle all of this without losing their mind. It has barely been two months, Crowny has only seriously hit the main plot in episode 4 which in the current timeline was about 3 weeks ago (from episode 7)

Truly the progress that crowny did make in episode 7 should have taken longer, people with crowny’s issues spend years in therapy before they feel they have the right to fight back.

There’s a reason episode 7 is the midseason finale. It’s not only about the plot but about crowny themself….

Dw you’re tune is fine I can usually tell when someone doesn’t think before they write 😭

[coffeebooksrain18]

I don't understand TBs obsession with denying Rhaenyra was chubby or fat.

They state she was beautiful so she can't be fat or chubby. Wow just say you already fatphobic? TGs state she was as a way to show the showrunners changed her so much when they could've had representation I their show.

They also scream that Helaena was the fat one. No one is saying she wasn't. It literally stats she was plump. I love that Helaena was chubby, I think it matched her character perfectly and I have no issues with her being chubby.

As a chubby person I personally don't like that they changed these things. It is dumb in my eyes as these people scream feminist and all that. Your not feminists just because you like Rhaenyra.

My point is, TBs are the ones who call us Bastardphobic as they scream if you even whisper that the Strong boys are bastards, they are the ones who demand that Rhaenyra wasn't fat but Helaena was all while saying were fatphobic for saying Rhaenyra was chubby in the book. The double standards in this Fandom are wild. And i might make a post on all the double standards ngl.