#kids cant really control what they’re exposed to

[bibibbon]

as one of the three mustard fans i feel obligated to yap about him to anyone who will listen.

in the grand scheme of things he’s not particularly important, but the few scenes he’s in definitely are.

he brings up something that many people forgot while watching the show.

that even in a world where people can turn their skin into steel or shoot acid from their hands, a bullet is a bullet.

that no matter how powerful your quirk is, if you get shot in the head you’re gonna fucking die 😭 i mean unless you have a regeneration quirk but those are pretty rare and if someone unloads a revolver into your skull i doubt your quirk would be able to keep up with the damage.

it shows people that a villain doesn’t need a powerful quirk to be dangerous. someone who’s competent with a gun or a knife can be just as dangerous as someone like dabi.

he’s also extremely intelligent. being able to tell where people are based on the movement of the gas isn’t something inherently related to his quirk, it’s a learned skill. he’s also very skilled with his gun, he was able to destroy tetsutetsu’s mask with one point blank shot. as well as being able to hit the same spot multiple times to break through tetsutetsu’s hardening.

when kendo says that mustard carries a gun around because he “can’t win a fight on his own merits” as much as i love her, she’s really stupid for that.

snipe’s whole thing is guns. his quirk has nothing to do with guns inherently, he just chose to use them. and support gear is a massive industry in this universe.

and no one talks about why this middle schooler has a gun and is hanging out with the LOV. that’s not exactly normal middle schooler behavior.

i have some theories so bear with me while i ramble about him.

so obviously he has a villainous quirk. his gas can kill people if they’re exposed to a concentrated amount of it for long enough. and he can’t control where the gas goes, only how much he releases.

(this is more of a headcannon but i like it too much to not share it. his father can create small amounts of purple mist around his body, and his mother sweats bleach. but one of his grandparents could create an ammonia based gas. and what happens when you mix ammonia and bleach? you get mustard gas. ik it’s kinda dumb but i like it.)

i believe that he had a hard time controlling his quirk as a child. with strong emotions causing him to activate his quirk.

in this universe there’s definitely schools/institutions for kids with dangerous quirks. so his parents probably shipped off to one of those institutions so they didn’t have to deal with him.

i feel like he resents the UA students because if an employer sees they went to UA, they have a way higher chance of getting the job.

but when they see that he went to an institution for kids with dangerous quirks, he could be rejected on the spot.

tl;dr i love mustard someone please sedate me

Since you posted this ask to me Iam assuming that Iam one of the three mustard fans and Iam honoured to be recognised as such.

As you know I have talked about mustard before and the potential his storyline has here.

Your whole rant makes me think that mustard in canon is basically the vision people have for fanon villain izuku and I love it.

Mustard brings up a good point which is that people rely on their quirks too much because someone with a uselss or a weak quirk can still be dangerous and powerful by honing in their other skills. Heroes who rely on their quirks primarily and nothing else are the ones that get injured and hurt the most because even if you have a powerful quirk it's not guaranteed to help you in every situation. Sometimes quirks cant always go up against technology as we see in the vigilante arc technology can very much overpower strong quirks whether you like it or not.

Oh I actually do like your headcanon. Personally I have always interpreted mustard as having an anaesthetic type quirk something similar to midnight. I wish the series delved into midnight and mustard interactions especially because mustard is too young to go to jail as people in Japan can only be punished for their crimes when they're above the age of 14.

Reputations and public image are very important things in MHA whether you're a hero or not. Mustard going to that type of institution is interesting although I don't think there are any in canon. I have interpreted it as mustard having something similar to toga where they both suffered from horrible quirk counselling and were told to control themselves not taught how and an incident happend and they ended up here. However everything that comes to mustard to me is 10 times more interesting simply because of how young he really is and how vague everything about him is

[borathae]

Chapter 27

oof i feel like a kid getting into living room while dad is having a meeting

It was all the reassurance he needed to know that Yoongi still liked him. fuck kook is so cute but thats sad too

t feels scary to stand in this hall with dozens and dozens of Rippers and Gluttons staring at you as if you were their greatest downfall STOP she is going to be a witch ok?? she is cool

Some of his fellow Rippers and Gluttons snicker upon seeing their almighty Creator so flustered by a human. xd

you stop talking when you hear just how silent the room became. thats more than enough for my voice to go shaky and crackly, and start doing spoonerism

It is beyond hilarious to them to see their grumpy Creator lose 3000 year old loses to a mere mortal ofc its funny

“no offence, you guys are chill. They’re for Namjoon.” she is soo cute fuck, im sure the old people find her cute too, "oh young kids pssh"

“You’ll regret this”, you press out. for real

“Of course you don’t, not at all.” “Shut up.” ofc yoognles

“I want to play too”, Jungkook exclaims and looks at Yoongi, “can I play?” FUCK HE IS SO FUCKING CUTE IM GONNA SET THE WOLRD ON FIRE AAAAAAAHA

“No”, he says, “I don’t have time for silly board games.” ofc millennias old grandpa wont like board games 😒🙄

“I grew hungry all of a sudden" wut 👀 “Stay away from her." KOOK I LOVE U “I will go hunting of course.” oh scared me for a second haha

“Oh”, Seokjin laughs in relief, “that sounds logical yeah.” MOOD

You have studied him and watched his every move and habits. He never takes his keys with him when he is hunting in fear that he might lose them. DAMN LOVE FUCK UR HOT WOOO but they are vampires, they dont need soo much sleep and is quiet, be more careful

FUCK BUSTED KNEW IT, WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE

“Biggest lie ever! You are constantly doing something stupid” STOP 😭😭violence 💀

“Ha! You’re so easy to mess with!” SHE IS SO ANNOYING I- I LOVE HER MARRY ME

oh we going on a tresure hunt mission

human shaped shadow startles you like crazy. WTF MY HEART JUST JUMPED OUT OF THE BODY STOP only for it to be coat hanger

Cold and dark corridors, always broody and never smiling. He is such a stereotype. XD exposed lol

“I’m literally going to die of a heart attack here”, you murmur. would be the funniest death tho, heart attack while searching for keys 😭😭

Yoongi all dressed up in a tophat and a fancy suit. A daguerreotype, THIS IS TOO FUNNY HAHA now you feel awful for laughing. Yoongi clearly meant to send this to someone special. fuck sorry

his room is so unlike him?? or do we not know him enough yet??

why doesnt he like to look at himself? thats worrying FUCK I HATE HIM AND I LOVE HIM GREAT AAAAH

AH WTF WHY IS HE HERE THIS FAST WTF KJLASDNGYLEW DOES HE REALLY WANT TO KILL HER AND ME ???

OMG WHAT DID HE DO AAH I CANT IM STRESSED FUCK

ok now can we let tae out or at least visit him???

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JIN

preferably you hope he pisses off altogether. To the other side of the world. mood

“Hobi seriously, if this is another one of your sad stories only for it to then end in you getting edged during a blowjob I’m gonna scream” 😭😭 did he bore her with his story already wow

An hour later I am speeding down a mountain at three hundred miles per hour whilst screeching like an idiot.” yeah i can hear his screams perfectly (run bts, thank you)

My lower spine was shattered, my legs dead and Annelise had to carry me down the mountain like a sack of potatoes before my spine finally healed again.” wow HEKC YEAH I WANNA BE A VAMPIRE HOBI TURN ME AND YOONGI TRAIN ME THEN I CAN DO RECKLESS SHIT

“It looks like a shrivelled up ballsack.” STOP LET HER COOK

FUCK OFF KOOK DONT TALK TO ME OR MY SON OR MY SONS SON OR MY SONS SONS SON

“I thought that he is like me.A, a Ripper or a Glutton a-and I wanted to make him feel how it feels like to lose control.” yeah cuz thats not torture at all

kook ur cute but thats it go away stop tempting me u evil potato FUCK I CANT EVEN CURSE AT U NOODLE no NOODLE IS GOOD UM FUCK U GARLIC YEAH THAT WORKS

do you want hot choco?” FUCK OFF STOP SEDUCING ME WITH THAT U ONION

“Oh my god”, you exclaim, giving him a quick glance, “read the room, will you?” i feel soo bad for him BUT NO I SHANT FALL FOR HIS TRICKS, HEAR THAT YOU BITTER GOURD??

CUZ SHE IS TIRED OF GIVING FUCKS SHES OUT OF FUCKS CUZ I AM FUCK A TAE FUCK A KOOK FUCK A YOONGLES BYE IM GOING TO ANGRILY STOMP AROUND THE ROOM 3 TIMES AND GO BACK TO SIMPING (u didnt hear that u tomato)

It was all the reassurance he needed to know that Yoongi still liked him. fuck kook is so cute but thats sad too

i'm actually very sad :( he just wants people to like him :(

t feels scary to stand in this hall with dozens and dozens of Rippers and Gluttons staring at you as if you were their greatest downfall STOP she is going to be a witch ok?? she is cool

interesting theory about her being a witch I LOVE WHEN you guys just have theories 👀

It is beyond hilarious to them to see their grumpy Creator lose 3000 year old loses to a mere mortal ofc its funny

like he's just secretly a big softie confirmed

“no offence, you guys are chill. They’re for Namjoon.” she is soo cute fuck, im sure the old people find her cute too, "oh young kids pssh

SHE IS THE CUTEST!!! i love her so much

“I want to play too”, Jungkook exclaims and looks at Yoongi, “can I play?” FUCK HE IS SO FUCKING CUTE IM GONNA SET THE WOLRD ON FIRE AAAAAAAHA

ME TOO gaaaah *bites him*

“No”, he says, “I don’t have time for silly board games.” ofc millennias old grandpa wont like board games 😒🙄

he is so BAD at pretending ahhhaha

“Biggest lie ever! You are constantly doing something stupid” STOP 😭😭violence 💀

BUT DID HE LIE????

human shaped shadow startles you like crazy. WTF MY HEART JUST JUMPED OUT OF THE BODY STOP only for it to be coat hanger

lmaoaooa

Yoongi all dressed up in a tophat and a fancy suit. A daguerreotype, THIS IS TOO FUNNY HAHA now you feel awful for laughing. Yoongi clearly meant to send this to someone special. fuck sorry

HAHAHHHAHAHHA this is the best reactionhahahahah

his room is so unlike him?? or do we not know him enough yet??

mhhhhhhhhhm

why doesnt he like to look at himself? thats worrying FUCK I HATE HIM AND I LOVE HIM GREAT AAAAH

No but this is actually so sad :(

AH WTF WHY IS HE HERE THIS FAST WTF KJLASDNGYLEW DOES HE REALLY WANT TO KILL HER AND ME ???

lmoaoa the fact that she is ALWAYS busted when she does stupid shit fajdsjf

My lower spine was shattered, my legs dead and Annelise had to carry me down the mountain like a sack of potatoes before my spine finally healed again.” wow HEKC YEAH I WANNA BE A VAMPIRE HOBI TURN ME AND YOONGI TRAIN ME THEN I CAN DO RECKLESS SHIT

no but me for real. I'd probably end up hurting myself once and then never doing it again cause I can't handle the pain lmaoaoa

“It looks like a shrivelled up ballsack.” STOP LET HER COOK

lmaoaoaoo

do you want hot choco?” FUCK OFF STOP SEDUCING ME WITH THAT U ONION

bahahhaha "onion" jfasdjf I have to remember this for a fluffy oneshot

[scoopsgf]

okay so you know those posts that are like basically saying stuff like ‘minors should know little to nothing about (instead thing here) and if they do then that means the internet has damaged them and they should reevaluate their time on here’ and like I get that it’s coming from a well-meaning place but those posts always make feel so bad about myself because I didn’t get to not know about more mature stuff. some of it was internet trauma when I was 10 and sneak onto the computer but some of it

(2/?) was from irl stuff and I didn’t get to control that. I learned about the more adult stuff because I was there and I shouldn’t have been freely ranging the internet when I was 10 but I was a literal child, and I didn’t know any better and now it just makes me feel terrible reading those posts because I get the internet is not a safe space and even if you carefully curate stuff things can still get through but that doesn’t mean I have to leave it altogether. like I’ve made sure now to only read

(3/?) and interact with stuff that I know about already without needing to look it up but because of trauma that’s more than probably the average teenager and most of my trauma wasn’t only from the internet and it’s not like I’m full out blogging about super mature stuff because I don’t like that stuff anyways but I still know about it and I feel invalidated by those posts that say I should t because I was never able to stop myself grom knowing about it and they all make me feel like it’s my fault

(4/?) like I understand those posts are well-intentioned and I don’t think that people should intentionally expose themself to stuff that’s too mature but I think they shouldn’t be shamed or have to feel called out for already knowing about that stuff and with everything else going on now I understand that a lot of people are panicking and especially most minors probably don’t know their limit with exposure to it but I have learned to know my limits better and not expose myself to too much and I’m sur

-

okay I think the asks got cut off, but I’ll answer what I can. First off I just wanna say that those posts are bullshit. like it’s true, they’re sometimes well-intentioned, but everyone is gonna have a different experience online and irl. i can completely understand why they would upset you the way that they have. though I understand the message, i hate the way they’re worded, you know? “minors shouldn’t know about x” “minors should have absolutely no idea what y is” etc. without knowing specifically what it is you’re referring to, I don’t want to provide specific examples of my own, but I don’t think we should ever let strangers on the internet dictate what we know and don’t know. it’s simply not their place to say. they have absolutely no right to judge you for what you do or do not know about.

if you want my real, honest opinion, I think those posts are pretty stupid. they’re mostly made by clout chasers looking for a bunch of people to agree with them and nod their heads like prim ladies at a damn bridge game. you know what you know. the internet is a vast place and it’s easy to accidentally stumble upon something you maybe shouldn’t, but it doesn’t make you wrong or bad for being exposed to something! it’s not ON you is what I’m trying to say. it’s not YOUR fault at all! none of this should ever make you feel guilty, and while I understand WHY you feel that way (because of the posts) I would respectfully like to crap all over the posts themselves because they are Just Dumb. you see what you see and experience what you experience and the only person in your life who gets to say whether or not those things will really affect you, is you. you are the one who should be able to decide how they make you feel, not a text post online. my best advice is really just to ignore them/label them as invalid in your own head. because that’s what they are. your opinion is valid, your reaction to what you see is valid, what you do with what you learn is valid. some dillhole looking for notes? is not.

[fictional-thoughts]

Poisoned

the mandalorian x fem!reader

warnings: smut, rough messy sex, slight dom/sub elements, sex pollen (dub/con), language, breath-play, fingering, one (1) spank

words: 6k+

a/n: this is genuinely the smuttiest thing i’ve ever written...enjoy

The Mandalorian is walking too fast, he’s gaining speed, leaving her behind in the foggy dark green forest. She’s desperately trying to keep up but her body’s seizing up and trembling and soaked in sweat. His cloak sways behind him and she’s try to not feel dizzy as the tanned colour of it clouds her blurry vision; but the planet is spinning in time with her twisting nerves and white hot muscles.

He’s clumsy, ducking under banches almost too late and his boots catch on thick veiny vines that litter the forest floor. The air smells damp and of pollen, of fluorescent flowers, dripping their sickly sweet scents and luring their prey. Deathly and dark violet the bulbous and puffy flowers hang in thick bunches, taunting the bounty hunter, teasing him with their lavender faces.

He should have known something was wrong. It was too silent. Too dark.

“Wait, wait,” she’s sweating under the thick and flexible armour, it feels as if there’s a million suns spanning the vast sky above her, burning down in fury from the gods. Skins slicked and her underclothes are sticking uncomfortably, melting to her frame. Her hairs a mess, damp and knotted and frizzy with humidity. “Damn it, Mando — somethings wrong.”

Mando nearly freezes in his tracks at her words voice high and broken; fuck, he knew it. She’s got it too, she has be feeling the same, weakened, chest constricted, halting breath in the lungs and skin burning like a forest fire, tongue parched and dry in the mouth, it’s death but only slower.

“What did you say?”

She coughs. The pit of her stomach is pulling towards an unseeable object, ripping through muscles in curling motions, thighs and hands trembling. The forest is so dark and bushy and green and lush she’s having trouble telling what is in front of her, eyes bleary and blinking in and out.

She hears the Mandalorian speak and nearly crash into the brushes under her heavy boots, the hot curls of pain unfurl inside her, a caged animal, clawing to be free and rid of her wretched body.

Something is really wrong.

Her hands find a mossy tree trunk and she’s barely keeping herself up, she’s holding her head in her shaking hand and has got her eyes screwed shut to block out the sight of the Mandalorian pushing his way back through the trees to get back to her, his long rifle catching on the vines and boots thumbing on the ground that seems to sway, a gentle and giant seesaw of lush greenness is the planet, twisting into a thousand vines.

He’s getting closer and it’s all she can do but not scream. Don’t, don’t come any closer.

“You okay?” He grips her forearm tight in his gloved hand and her skin erupts in goosebumps, prickling her skin with an override of electricity. Her mouth drops open as a thousand fluttering beings swarm inside her stomach as he’s connected to her.

“Don’t touch me,” she’s frantic and he’s pulling away from her, his gloved hands raised, almost in defence. Her own clammy hands are pulling at the thick straps and buckles of her armour, it’s too tight and she can’t breathe.

The Mandalorians mind is racing, thinking back to every single second they they’ve been on the godforsaken planet, it’s a slipping of details, they’re all a blur, pieces fell where they shouldn’t be and he’s so confused, why can’t he remember what happened to them? Why does it seem to be affecting her more then it is him?

Then he realizes.

The Mandalorian growls a soft swear, “shit,” and she whips her head to look at him, pupils dilated and forehead glazed with a sheen of sweat, she’s a breathtaking disaster.

“What?”

“This is your fault.” He’s harsh, condescending. He angrily snaps his rifle over his shoulder to free up his movements, he’s handling the weapon roughly and she’s watching with slight awe. Every second he’s in hot pain, it’s pulling him closer to her every second and now he’s absolutely certain. “Now —” he tries to explain but she’s already lashing out in that bright red anger.

“You bastard, how is this my fault?” She stumbles and nearly falls but catches herself with some dignity, ignoring the Mandalorians hand moving to help her, if need be. Her raised voice causes his chest to lurch and he’s trying not to look directly at her. He’s now absolutely certian and trying to remain calm.

-

They’d been wandering through the thick forest, stepping through shallow streams and climbing over moss covered rocks protruding from the planets crust. She’d been walking along, weapons slung across her chest, just absolutely entranced by the canopy of violet flowers that hung in thick and heavy looking bunches over their heads; the red suns of this planets atmosphere did their best to shine through the long winding leaves of the plants, but as the bounty hunters continued on, the darker their surroundings became.

She was ignoring the Mandalorian, angry at him once again for getting them lost, but his argument in retaliation was she had simply forgotten to pack the ships tracker back at base. Packed into a steaming argument she then proceeded to send him surly glares and refuse to speak.

The Mandalorian didn’t mind much, he liked the quiet, and quite honestly, he enjoyed it more when he knew she weren’t going to start speaking. He’d never been much of a talker, but going on this mission with a fellow (amateur) hounty hunter, he’s been forced to converse, pleasantly or not.

They had been walking under the flowers for ages, time didn’t exist there, a loop of the hours that dragged on forever. Then that is where everything was her fault.

She touched a small fluorescent flower, curled her slim fingers around the velvety petal she smoothed skin of the plant under her palm and turned to examine the bright pollen covering her flesh.

She caught his gaze for a moment, a hazed over kind of glint in her eyes, then looked down at her pollen covered hand, then back at the innocent looking plant, a light violet powder covered her hand, and imprinted on the large petals was her very handprint.

“It’s just a plant. We should keep moving.” He turned and strode away, pushing down the idea that she had looked beautiful, surrounded by soft colours, it was different than her usual aesthetic. She only smiled, her frustration melted away, and brushed the rest of the pollen from her palm, together they watched it soak into the air, soft and aesthetic it slid between the panels of sunlight that peeked through.

The faces of flowers watched the hunters leave the forest; poisoned and deadly.

-

“You gotta be fucking kidding. Fuck.” The Mandalorian sighs deeply and he’s trying not to stare as she’s stripping from her metallic armour, her hurried fingers untying the laced up straps of her chest piece he’s kneeling down and helping her before she can yell at him. His gloved hands graze the skin of her collarbone exposed between the laces of her white undershirt and she’s whimpering.

She can’t strip right here. He’s not sure what will happen if she does. “Stop.”

“I said don’t fucking touch me,” she’s pushing him away and glaring, dark and deep.

“Do you know what that was?” He’s cooled down, thinking of what to do, that pulsing and burning need is brimming within his chest, begging and a slur of sinful thoughts seep into his mind. “The flowers?”

She’s sunk down to the brushy forest floor amongst the fluffy ferns and little white dotted flowers with red cheeked and filled with fierce bemusement she answers him. “The hell should I know.”

His shoulders droop with his heavy sigh and he’s scanning the trees around them, wondering if it’s the pollen affecting his sight too or if the wooded plants really do look as if they are bending over them, creaking and contorting into an arch as if to protect the two hunters, watch over them. “I’ve heard of these before, and this has to be it — why you’re in pain.”

The Mandalorian makes no comment of his own deplorment, controling desire morphed into threads of pain. He’s keeping it under wraps but having her so close to him, so bare and soft, as much as she exists to him as an enemy rather than one he’s thought of in such a way its throwing his attention askew.

“I’m not in pain,” she’s snapping at him again, short words and a steely tone she’s already turning a cold shoulder, never accepting the fact that she’s not immortal.

Inwardly she knows she’s lying, but it’s a half lie, she’s in pain but it’s a familiar feeling, the warmth pooling inside her, trembling hands and thighs, she can just feel the dampness at her core, hot and slick she’s absolutely soaked.

“I’m just —” she cant string the words together, looking up at the stern Mandalorian she’s fighting back the urge, the longing and pathetic urge to crawl into his lap and have him fuck her till she can’t breathe; to sink himself deep inside her with a hand around her neck and to just fuck her senseless.

“I know.”

-

They’re back at the ship, the night air is cold and there are few stars alive in the sky. The Mandalorian and her are only feet apart, he’s across from her in his chair, back straight and unmoving, facing the dash. She’s sitting on the ground with her back against the rough cooling wall, the metal grated floor is hard and her ass is sore but if she’s sitting anywhere else she’s close to the Mandalorian and she can’t have that.

WInd howls outside and the huge trees sway in the darkness outside the Mandalorians ship.

She’s got her eyes closed, jawline accented in the semi darkness she’s leaning back to the wall, bottom lip caught under her teeth she’s biting down harshly and tapping her foot in an anxious beat as sweat drops past her sternum and slides over her skin between her breasts, she feels every milimeter of her skin crawl and its rolling in waves, the slick and pushing arousal, its sliding under her skin and got its grip on her chest so tight shes stripped her shirt off.

Her forgotten armour and boots lay in the middle of the open space within the ship.

This isnt ending soon.

The Mandalorian watching his fist curl and uncurl, the wrinkles of the leather gloves he’s wearing bend and fade, he’s unfocused and can only think of her, she’s ten feet away and hasn’t spoken to him since they made it back to his ship. He’s thinking of how she uttered a moan as he brushed her lower back, her eyes closing, slipping into a world where the affects of the pollen are taken care of. 

He’s wondering just how long the effects last when the she speaks up, her voice hoarse and taunt in her lungs. “How the hell is this not having any effect on you?” His fist clench one last time and he’s shifting in his chair, through the visor his eyes close momentairly, pondering of what to say.

“I never said it wasn’t.”

For all the wrong reasons heat pools within her core at the Mandalorians tender voice, smooth and rich its all she can do but imagine how he sounds next to her ear, telling her how good she feels around him, how wet and tight. “You feel this too?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s still blaming her, still wrapped in the idea she’s at fault. How could she have known? In turn, he was at fault as well, getting them lost and failing to recall the deadly flowers.

Then she’s saying something he’d never expect.

“I’m so sorry,” she’s muttering, rubbing the heals of her hands into her eyes, blurring her vision — childlike, innocent. “This is all my fault,” grimacing, she moves her legs to be more comfortable. “It hurts,”

An apology. In the moment the Mandalorian finds it amusing that it takes fucked up pollen fever to force her to apologize for something.

The Mandalorians chest is pinched, painful, and he sighs deeply, she sounds so wrecked, her voice soft, weak. He hears her shifting on the floor and his ears ring witht he rustle of clothing — everything is sensitive. “I know,” he says her name in the short sentence and she’s whimpering in reply.

They could be anywhere, planets away, flying past suns and stars, holed up in dingy towns or broken cities — no, they’re ten feet apart and both have managed to inhale sex pollen straight from the deadly plant itself.

“Mando,” she whimpers again, sliding her hands down her torso, her palms press over her nipples and her back arches; she’s forgetting her hatred for the Mandalorian, letting his annoyance to her everyday life slip from her mind — she’s opened her eyes and he’s there, standing, the shadows curved around him you can only see the outline of his form. Her eyes linger on his arms, his now bare hands and the warmth tugs somewhere deep inside her.

Eyes darkened and filled with a lingering prederatory hilt, she’s pulling herself to her feet, the Mandalorians watching her, a warrior, torn and wrecked, chapped pink parted lips and lashes fluttering over her bright eyes — unstoppable, seductive. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about her beyond the dealings of companionship, of partners in they crimes they commit.

“We gotta do something about this, Mando.” Its killing her, she’s sure of it. Her eyes break into his beskar, drag over his bulky body.

“There’s nothing... we just wait it out.”

“I can’t,”

“I don’t care.” He’s back to cruel words in the place of his longing rule the flood of things he wants to say, to bend close to your ear and whisper. Fuck me.

She’s stalking closer to him, wetting her lip with her tounge its only moments before something has to happen, its damp and rushed in the hazy red lights inside the ship, they’re furious and watching the Bounty Hunters below.

“I hate you, you know that?” Her words are dripping burning silk — she’s never hated him. And thats her immortal demise, a secret, tucked away in her heart.

“Feelings mutual.” He turns his head to stare into her eyes, her widened and starlike eyes. His own dark eyes trail down past her collarbone and land on her breasts nearly pushed from her tight covering, rising ad falling in time with her breaths. His hands ich to just touch. 

She purrs. “We can hate eachother,�� she’s stepped closer to him and he’s not moving, allowing her to invade all idea of personal space she’s so close he can smell her. She seems to forget where she was going with her sentence, looking up at him its like she sees right through him.

“Can we?” His voice breaks through the mask. She chews on the idea, wonders what kind of pretty words it would take to get him to fuck her. Her cunts soaked and throbbing, the push of the material of her pants aren’t helping.

 “Have you ever been with anyone?”

There it is.

“Dont ask stupid questions.” He’s turning away but she’s got a hold of his arm, her warm hand in contact with his is taking ridiculous affect, lurching up and and through his chest the Mandalorians heart is in his throat. “We cant,”

He’s thinking it too.

“Its not wrong,” she’s sliding her hand down to slip her fingers through his, stiring up the growing fire. Its hot and heavy, weighs him down. “Mando, please,” she’s begging, caught on whimpers she’s breathing heavier and heavier. The Mandalorin pulls his hand from her grip, raises it and he’s brushing a forlorn tear from her cheek.

Please. “I can’t stop it,”

He’s slowly going insane, at the touch of her skin something within him snaps and he’s pulling her close, pushing her to the wall of the ships interior, his arms trapping her in. Their breaths match, and she’s so close to him, her eyes softening her mouth opens to beg, of pathetic desperation and drunk on the flowers bitter poison. The Mandalorian stops her, a bare hand agaisnt her mouth he’s silenced her. The touch of their burning skin nearly has her dropping to her knees. She looks into the visor of the hemlet and searches of emotion, a flicker of life behind the face of a machine.

The Mandalorians body is pressed to hers, compact, brimming with the poisonous affections, they’re drowning in the stuff. She shudders in his grasp, the mix of metal and weapons, of leather and the soft material of his shirt, its all too much, burning and keeping her of air its not enough.

He’s looking away from her, forcing himself to keep his cool. Its a rippling fire, lurching and spreading as if alive, the thick coils are heavy. Mando tempts a movement, his cock hard against her and it’s so good — she whines info his hand, her leg slinking up his own, trapping him closer.

“You really don’t know what you do to me, huh?” The Mandalorian’s rough, distracted, caught in grinding out as much friction against her as he can, chasing away the clouding thoughts, screaming at him that everything is wrong.

But those fade, sink into pure silence when her free hand slides up his wrist, nails dug into his skin, she’s pulling his hand away from her lips, her heavy lidded eyes dance with seduction. He’s watching her turn his hand, help him cup her jaw, half spread over the side of her throat, his thumb glides over her lip, she’s turning her head, leaning into his grasp she’s taking the digit between her wet pursed lips, sucking, biting down.

Fuck.

“Please Mando,” hoarse voice in his ears and shooting a pool of warmth straight through him. She’s sinking into the wall, dark eyes pouring into him. Desperate. Longing. “What, you want me to beg?”

Mando freezes. A growl pushes its way through his chest. “No,” she’s ruining him, breaking him apart by the seams. Her brows knitted, eyes wide, pleading. A selfish, dark part of the Mandalorian wants to force her to her knees, maybe turn her front to the wall, press deep into her and fuck the burning urges away.

Her tones smooth and sinking into his skin, drugging him. “Wanna watch me get off? Maybe that’s what you’d like, Mando?”

She pushes him back, forcing stumbling steps, using what’s left of her strength. It’s wickedly wrong, she needs him so bad it hurts. She wants to drop to her knees, taste his cock on her tongue, strip the beskar off, drag her nails down his skin, make him moan her name.

Her words are nearly fucking unbearable. The burning sexual tension hangs in the air, choking them. The ships inside is warm and sticky, her half bare body is covered in sweat, her skin flushed and eyes dark, she matches what earthquakes seem and what passion wishes it could be.

The last dregs of self control fade, his minds hazy with greed and the absence of her burning fever touch has him desperate.

“Get on the floor.”

Quiet. Commanding. She’s obeying instantly and sinks to the floor of his ship, grated metal digging into her flesh, the ground is filthy and gritty and she’s biting back harsh words, only for the moment, thick and heavy need is in place of hatred. Her poisoned gaze burns into him, watching him pull away weapons and leather, heavy cloak and chunks of beskar — not all all of it though.

He’s over her, burning touch that’s melting to her skin. She falls into a moan, her stomach tense with arousal, spreading through her body, following his hands. “Fuck you need to touch me,” everything is begging her to delve into him, rip apart from their restraining history, make amends and build up something new, something in which he can fuck her and hate her at the same time.

And maybe he is.

Through the visor of his helmet, glitching into view, her body spread and displayed, his core deepens, eating him from the inside. Mando pulls her to his lap, her cunt right over his centre, throbbing over his cock. A hot moan drips from the helmet, he closes he eyes, letting her move against him, spine arched beautifully; Mando slides an arm around the small of her back, keeping her close with a spread hand. The other gropes her chest, further pulling down the tight material covering her tits.

“I need—” a whimper slides over her lips, her hands settle over his broad shoulders, drag him closer. “I need something...your hands — fuck — your lips on me.”

“You’re not getting that.” He promises, his helmets not coming off, he’s barely taken any armour off — and she’s bare over him, albeit tight underclothes. His hand slides down her skin, past her navel and dip down past her underclothes, shoving them aside. She gasps loudly, releasing her breath in a shaking moan as his fingertips brush her softness.

That aching pull, it’s deepening and she’ll surely run out of breath before the Mandalorian can properly touch her. She’s forgotten it’s not affected him as much as her — not that it matters, he’s got his hand on her cunt and his dick is hard and thick under her. “Please, oh my god.”

The helmet tilts, the coolness brushing her skin. He’s watching her, arched into his grasp, silently begging for anything. Then he’s curled two fingers into her, gathered in slick and crooked just right and she shrieks, shatters over him. Blood red lips and wild eyes, she’s moving, urging him to fuck her through the drug, bring the heavyness to an end. Its not enough.

She’s falling back, legs untanged with his, she’s gripping him and pulling him close, collasping onto the floor, his hand leaves her for a moment, tugging an empty ache back into her gut. “No, no --” she’s whimpering, “please keep going.”

His hand pushes the mess of hair from her face, looking right into her wretched eyes. Through the rush and anger, he feels a bit of softness, a bit of longing mixed with a likeness, she must be well under the drug, for she’s never been one to beg just that much. His bare hands slide back over her body, dipping past her hipbones and blunt nails dragging down her thighs. Her cunt glistens, Mandos caught in wondering just how she’d taste on his tongue, his head between her thighs, tight around his ears.

“Mando,”

The helmet tilts again and she catches a glimpse of skin, tan under the material and beskar. It’s the column of his throat, leading down where his collarbone would be. The sight sends her into fresh, delicious delirium.

“You need me to fuck you.” He’s buying time, seeing how far she can stretch, the looks of her all soft and longing is turning him on a little too much. It’s not the girl she normally is.

Half a sob curls up, painfully pushing at her throat. She needs him so bad. “Isn’t that fucking obvious.”

There she is.

Without warning he’s over her and his hand on her cunt, two fingers sunk deep in her wetness, pulling her into a painful arch from the grated flooring. She shakes, her hand finds his shoulder and grips tight, nails nearly digging into the thick material of his shirt. Living vicariously through the feeling of his fingers in her cunt, he’s back to thinking just how she’s taste, how she’d writhe and shiver under his tongue. The thoughts are burning through him and his dick is painfully hard — her thigh brushes him and he nearly comes right there.

He’s fucking her slowly, roughly; thumb brushing her clit through the plush wetness of her cunt, she biting down on moans and quivering, lithe in his grasp. “Mando please, I need —” she’s got her eyes squeezed shut, rolling through another wave of wanton poison, it’s bleeding into every nerve.

“I know what you need,” he’s got her. His voice soothes her, his rough hands pull her thigh up, three fingers slathered in her dripping elixir, they’re flat to her clit and pushing in short circles. His touch is chasing away the heat in her skin, derived under influences of lust, she’s collapsing under thick waves of it. She needs his hands, his lips his dick — anything. What the Mandalorian is doing is not enough.

“Mando, just shut up, please —” the slip of his fingers on her clit is sloppy, pressing hard and soaked in her honey. “I need something.” It still hurts, the pollens clamped itself inside her system, taking ahold of her hot muscles, her running heart and flushed skin.

He’s got her pinned, ragged sounds tear from him, the helmets speakers crackle with his breath. Mandos hovered above her, ire trained on her face, down her chest to her breasts rising and falling, pert nipples and soft curves. She’s so damn soft, angelic in a ruined sort of way. Mando groans, her hands found his cock, palming through the fabric.

“Take of the mask,” she’s panting, her free hand leaves his shoulder and slides down the metal, right where she imagined his cheekbone would be. His movements slow. “Wanna have your fucking mouth on me.”

“Helmet stays on.” He’s pulled her closer, sinking down to cover her bare body with his metallic and leather clad one, his right hand digs under her thigh, raises it to his side, slim fingers gripping her pretty curves. She’s frustrated, all that hate and anger comes back in droves, her hand leaves his cock, much to her displeasure and leaves him chasing the feel of it, she’s temping him, fueling a spark of anger.

“I don’t care.” She hisses, eyes scathingly dark.

Smack! His hand slaps the outside of her thigh, burning the skin a deeper colour and bringing a cry of surprise to the edge of her breath. Fuck, the spank shot the air from her lungs, swollen lips parted but not a noise leaves them.

The sudden sting and roughness of it was painful — she wants it again. Her cunts tight around nothing and she’s pulled on an edge.

“Could blindfold you,” the voice through the helmet is deep, it sends her further into an intoxicating trance. “That what you want?”

Fuck no. She’s biting her lip and pushing herself up and onto him. Her tits press to his beskar and it’s cold to her skin, covered in goosebumps and sweat, chills run rampant over her form. She whimpers, his rough hands find her cunt, dip into the warmth once again.

“I’m not putting a blindfold on, fuck that.” She’s panting, arched up to him as his fingers leave her cunt, slicked and tasting of her sweetness. She’s mewling and its not enough, she needs the real thing. She’s begging him to fuck her properly between the sounds of metal clinking, the heavy rustle of fabrics — he’s not wasting a second before he’s half torn from the beskar.

The Mandalorian smooths his bare hand over her cunt, watching her shiver — wretched art, she’s beautifully twisted. She’s palming her own breast, arching info the feeling, her body calling him, a siren luring.

Fuck it. He could do no blindfold.

“Fine,” he’s growling and grips her hips, hands dug into her skin he’s flipped her over, her chest pressed onto the dirty floor of the ship, the Mandalorian runs a hand up her smooth back, his hand curves around the back of her neck and she’s pinned down.

His free hand rips the helmet off, it clatters fo the floor beside her, the empty metal visor staring, watching. Basked in fresh air and the smell of sex, Mando leans over her, a large hand slides up past her tits and circles her throat. She whines and bends to his will. Mandos rough and unforgiving, a newfound freedom without the helmet has him pulling her body right to his broad chest, teeth scraping her neck, damp moans and mutters of curses fall from his hungry lips.

“Gods, gods you’re so good,” his raw and ragged tone is thick in the air, finally free of his helmet, still mysterious to her, it’s the sinking reality of just how attracted she is to him, how pathetically desperate she is, letting a man fuck her and never let her see his face; but the feel of his hardness pressed against her along with leftover leather and beskar mixed with his lips on the lobe of her ear is enough.

She wants the Mandalorian to show her how good she is. All that blinds her is pure need, flower drunk and trapped in the world of fever dreams.

Sliding her ass against him, his cock hard as fucking marble between them, she moans, ripping through another wave of arousal, she’s growing wetter by the second its evident on the inseams of her thighs, shiny and coated. The Mandalorian shoves harshly her down again, his knee knocking hers to the side, spreading her apart, bending over her his lips and teeth find her shoulder blade and between her yearnful sounds, stuck in the darkness of the fever, she’s struggling, eyes squeezed shut.

Then sliding past all that, pushing through shuddering breaths, Mando grips her tight and sinks himself into her. Its instant relief, a fall into icy rushing water and the world becomes clear again, everything is felt differently. She’s warm and wet, every inch delved deep in her cunt is pure bliss.

“Oh-h stars—” curling, tense pressure mounts within her, she’s sensitive and trembling, he’s breaking her open, it’s everything she’d been desperate for and more. She’s writhing in his grasp, tangled in pleasure, her form caved to his touch.

The Mandalorian moans, exilariated he’s pulling back only to slam himself into her again, arms supporting him he’s leaned over her, pressing messy and wet kisses to her shoulder, sinking his teeth into her soft skin he’s forcing her to cry out, to bend at his will and crave him only more. She’s stretched, a sleek feline, muscled and curved, her knees are spread and the metal of the floor is digging into her skin, its painful but she doesnt feel it in the moment.

At a loss of words, her lips part and she’s stuck, caught in thick webs of flowing pleasure, running in hot waves through her bloodstream, her nerves and bones. The Mandalorians pace is off, deep and hard, he’s sloppy and rough.

Its a race to the edge and she finds herself taunt, her thighs tremble and she’s already close, taking it hard she covers her mouth with her hand, pushing forwards as the Mandalorians movements twist into something other than, something primal and urging on what the poison called them to do.

Her body half broken under fatigue, Mando’s strong arms grip hers and gather her up, spine curved again, her ass pressed to his hipsbones, the new angles deep and he stutters his movements, head falling tight to her shoulder, resting for only a moment.

He’s fucking her harder, messier. One arm wrapped around her chest, hand clasped with hers and the other winds around her throat, forearm pressed over her chest. Fingertips pressing to the sides of her neck, he knows just what he’s doing — right amount of pressure, the slight squeeze, it’s got her gasping and hungry for adrenaline. She curled an arm back, holding the back of his head, fingers threaded through his thick hair, soft under her palm.

“Mando, fuck you’re good,” maybe it’s the drug, maybe she’s sunk under the influence, thick with lust but each show, calculated fuck against her has her wondering why they’ve never done this sooner.

He squeezes once, a warning. “Quiet,” and that’s why, she remembers, slurring thoughts mix through her foggy mind, he’s controlling, he’s rough and merciless — but it doesn’t matter now, she’s halfway to orgasm and the calling relief is so much better than her hatred for him.

She’s trembling on the edge, the Mandalorian fucks her hard and fast, chasing after release and turning the lust into something wickedly beautiful. Each hit has her breathtaking moans, a little gift to his ears, furthering his seeping arousal. She’s tight and hot around him, fucked out at a perfect angle and lashing against his grip, then it’s all blinding and his release comes from nowhere, coating and warm inside her she’s gasping at the feel, triggering her own fall from grace.

Slow and gutteral moans, shaking breaths and molten energy, they’ve fallen on the same brink of time, waves of lighting crash through her, the heavy coil snapping, evolving into sparks of rabid pleasure. She muffes shrieks into her hand. Mando’s never come harder, so unexpectedly torturous, she’s impossibly wet around him and it’s hard to keep a grip, her thighs shake. Three more leisurely thrust, deep in her cunt has him tripping through the moment, head dropping to her shoulder, teeth gritted tight, he’s a mess and it’s wrecking him.

“Fuck,” he bites down on the swear, she shivers as he pulls away, hands releasing her throat and waist she’s shaky and not able to hold herself up. Mando doesn’t speak, his mind filled with one thing.

Through the darkness of the Crest, the thick taste of sex in the air and sounds of her intoxicating whimpers, he sinks down and helps her lie back, her form shifting under him, she’s facing him in the darkness, breathing through the aftershocks. “Holy... shit,”

“Don’t move,” chasing the trembles down her ruined form, he drops between her legs once again, dangerous hands pawing at her thighs, her knees had knocked together, tensed in the throes of pleasure but Mando’s splitting them open and burrowing his head between.

She jolts back into reality, haven drifting into some kind of post orgasmic dream. His velvet tongue slides up through her cunt, finally having a taste of her, drinking all she has to offer. Wet and heavy moans shift from his lips to her slicked cunt, his whole body is pressing forwards, rebuilding the release. She’s choking on moans, the sensitivity is on the verge of pain, tipping past pleasure. The sounds of her cunt to his lips, his nose ridged against her clit, churning out a new rush, white hot and bathed in carnality.

“Yes, oh-h my gods,” her hands fumble, her form is numb to feeling, every nerve is retracting, drowning in the new burning coals and blackened skyes. It’s ruined daylight and broken stars. It’s only been seconds after the release, and another ones building. Hot tears threaten to escape, renagade and borne by exhaustion, sensitivity; and the Mandalorians not slowing down, sinking into her begs on the edge of sin, his tongue delves deep, flicking and curling around her bud.

She’s split apart, the half on verge of passing out, the other riled up, curling her leg around his shoulder, pushing him further and fuck she’s so close, pooling warmth and the rushed feeling of tightness, the burning coil taunt. Through the darkness, she’s wretched — faces of flowers coat her vision, blinking in and out, she’s lost off the world. It builds, stacking and mounting and she can’t control it. Shuddering, her spines arched and she feels chills climb the ridges of her bones — her thighs close tight, stopped by his rough hands, pushing her open but it’s too much, the fires alit and burning through her.

His mouth slants over her cunt, closing around in a wet kiss paired with slurred words, close to her slick the Mandalorians telling her to come on his tongue, that he’s got her, he’ll work her through it and then she’s suddenly shaking — pleasure rips through her form, unbearably shocked.

“Fuck, fuck, Mando —” she’s gasping and he’s addicted to her taste, sweet and sharp on his tongue, he’s breathing deep, his tongue slip against her core and he’s fucking her slowly through her release; she’s close to sobbing, the pressures releasing ever so slowly, the motions of orgasms bend and fade, twisted in her mind and body. Her hips pressed to the ground, keeping her still, large hands gripping, tight to her scalding skin.

His lips leave her, the urges come back.

The poison — cursed pollen, exchanged sinfully through their bodies, it’s not been purged, still thick in her veins and fogging her mind, she’s gasping for air as it locks into chest.

The Mandalorian feels it, somewhere deep and dark.

They’re right back at the beginning, her thighs ache and her hands feel numb, lips bitten red and skin coloured with marks, she’s an art form of desperation and need. Through the musky darkness, his hands find her body again, she’s in a daze, staring up at the red lights above them, watching them fade and glow. She floats back to the planet, back to the ship as his lips graze her neck, fresh with anew urge of ecstasy and hands smooth over her breast.

They’re going to be there for awhile.

-

feedback is always appreciated!

[tags / some of these are from the previous list, please tell me if you’d like to be removed or added] @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @fantasticwizardnerd @flipping-fan-tastic @thatoneemosithlord @dontbetricked @bamfkurt @m-is-for-mischa @otherthingsinhead @christiandior @ccordiform @darlingbravebelle @aj-2187 @boogiebunnies @charlotte-solane-writes @allihave-arememories @pedro-pascal-online @iprettybirdi @toasterking @jedi-dreea @s-v-e-l-t-e @http-user-eraser @fxcastle @titahnics @captianstartights @banana-batman @biolo-tea @raveviolet @aroseamongthestars @bitchasaurus @imconfused28 @rebelwriter95 @nyashi-kaages @bigtoughswordboy @stonertokoyami @sailorflowermoon @sleepingdeath007 @gothtechie @skys-luce-stellare @missalyssx

[goodomens-goodomenseverywhere]

Loki ep 6 thoughts

-FEAR

-recap reminds me I hate ravonna

-I want more mobius/sylvie

-THE SONG WAHHH

-The QUOTES IN THE INTRO?? WAHHH?,

-OH,?? REAL PEOPLE VOICES??

-Greta thin burg I love u

-upside down heart in rock

-THE SUSOICIOUS LACK OF THEME MUSIC WITH THE LOKI LOGO

-this music slaps everyone say thank u Natalie holt

-they look so good….ugh

-sylvies hair…wah

-THE LITTLE CALLBACK TO LAMENTIS

-she’s asking him to tell her to stop :’)

-best buds I love dem

-she’s pulling the ‘I’m 8 minutes older than u!!’ Argument that every twin pulls

-she needs a moment now but she didn’t hesitate back in ep 4. Hmm

-Tom looks fuckin great here let’s not lie

-statues?? Omg who

-ominous door slam

-I FUCKING JUMPED

-OMINOUS ‘HEY YALL???’

-THAT WAS HORRIFYING

-what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

-I need a second

-I’m so sorry that gives me the ‘HEY SISTERS’ jumpscare energy I’m laughing but terrified

-kang

-it’s fuckin kang aint it

-oh he scared

-he’s scared

-of the lokis

-wants to bargain with them hmm

-bitchboy

-this never ends well

-BRO HES PAST THIS STUPID FUCKIN BATTLE

-this is a trick loki PLS DONT FALL FOR IT

-full offense but ‘we can reinsert you so you won’t disrupt the timeline’ and ‘you can kill thanos and have the infinity gauntlet’ cannot POSSIBLY coincide

-her eyes are creepy

-don’t let this overrule your GOAL SYLVIE

-god one of you have braincells pls

-oh she thinks they’re a thing too huh

-Disney don’t do it I stg

-THANK u

-sylvie looks so annoyed girl me too

-even my cat’s confused

-I don’t wanna have any sympathy for ravonna don’t show me those stupid fuckin rings

-LMAO THE CLOCK IS PLAYING RAVONNA TOO

-why is this so funny

-knife buds

-I shouldn’t love him but I kinda do

-okay but they’re so funny just holding their knives to him

-I’m so sorry sylvie is so cute

-her little hair flips

-it’s a Loki thing

-he’s funny but I’m fairly certain I’m gonna hate him

-at least call her by her preferred name bitch

-MOBIUS MY KINGGGGG

-WHAT A BAD BITCH I FUCKIN LOVE YOU

-“one mans void is another man’s….piece of cake”

-SHES SO ANNOYEDFKSIFKS

-youre not sorry bitch

-LMAO B-15 YOU BAD FUCKING BITCH

-OMG OMG OMG PRINCIPAL NOT-RAVONNA IS SO HOT

-B-15 like I’ll expose the fuck outta your ass

-Loki I love you but this is obviously bigger than you think

-man’s a script writer omg

-ugh not him being a sylkie shipper

-man I hate u

-NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN IM TIRED

-right when they thought they could start doing their own thing and making their own decisions he’s like SIKE!!!

-I sad

-this bitch is exactly why I’m like meh on Christian god

-must be boring

-man I don’t want him to turn them against each other

-IS THIS A RELIGIOUS ALLEGORY

-ravonna is. A little unhinged

-‘an illusion conjured by the the weak to inspire fear. A desperate bid from control’

-I’m sorry but she sounds like cliche christians

-this is coming from a cradle Catholic

-why is this the mokius/Loki fight from ep 4 all over again

-she literally says crisis of faith

-mobius: hey I think this entire institution has manipulated us and I'm gonna try and figure out what's at the bottom of it

ravonna: lies to him, has him killed

ravonna: wow i cant believe he would betray me like that

-no bc its giving Aaron burr 'now I'm the villain in your history'

-its giving catra and adora in s1 when adora's like 'they're awful' and catras like 'yeah we been knew. How dare u not condone that'

-except I don't ship Mobius and ravonna

-I had to pause to write this rant

-she threatens to prune him again as if he wouldn't just go back to the void

-mobius: we can't take away ppl's free will

Ravonna: i disagree

mobius: where are u going

ravonna: in search of free will

-PICK A SIDE

-IM TIRED

-mobius being left ONCE AGAIN

-poor bitch

-everyone has evil clones just let shit happen

-why is it literally an entire religious allegory

-HW FOUND BABY ALIOTH

-im so confused

-what does the illusion of the time keepers do at all

-he fills the same spot as them either way

-is it anonymity?

-why doesn't he just kill all the bad variants of himself

-he sounds like a liar I don't trust him

-hes just an asshole

-why doesn't he offer ppl the option to work for the tva

-if he thinks they'll still work under Sylvie and Loki then he must think they'd help

-why does he look scared

-idk why but I'm real tired of all this

-time shit's confusing

-dude i just want lokius interaction

-NOOO NOT A SYLKIE FIGHT

-no I’m so ficking emo

-I want them to be besties

-“because you can’t trust. And I can’t be trusted”

-bro I’m sad

-I’m so sad ab Loki

-he’s trying so hard not to hurt her pls

-WAHHHHH

-I am going to SOB

-HE THREW HIS SWORD DOWN IM GOING TO CRY

-he’s GROWN SO MUCH

-LOUD CRYING

-that’s it I’m fucking logging out

-Disney I hate you

-I’m so fucking pissed

-I’m so tempted not to finish this episode I’m mad

-anger fills me from top to bottom

-NOT THIS AGAIN

-I am taking a moment

-are you SERIOUS

-man

-my exact words when she says ‘I’m not you’ were “AH fuck. GODdammit” but I need you to take the liberty of imagining the exhaustion in my voice

-bro I’m just so mad

-I’m like apathetic to the rest of the plot rn sorry

-I couldn’t care less ab this

-man I am so disappointed

-I’m sorry I just am

-does it really fuckin have to go like that

-god at least let me have one last Lokius moment

-Tom Hiddleston’s deliverance of that rant was so fucking good

-like. You can hear how truly fucked up he is about all this. We’ve never seen Loki like this

-I’m rly emo about it

-I’m actually going to kill marvel

-I am. Divorcing this show

-are you fucking kidding me

-no because fuck you

-FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

-I am SO ANGRY

-I am going to be pissed forever

-you fucking make MOBIUS FORGET HIM?? JUST LIKE THAT???

-GODDAMIR

-SO IS THIS MOTHERFUCKER KANG THE CONQUERER??

-I’m so tired

-I just want to take a long fucking nap

-I’m gonna spend the next few years pretending this episode doesn’t exist

-fuck everything man. I’m fucking mad I haven’t been this mad since I watched infinity war in theaters.

-with that I will be. Dying somewhere

[parkjess]

Can I request a childhood friends to lovers scenario with Sanha?? Thank you !! 💜

Friends to lovers/ Yoon Sanha

Genre: Fluff

It was 3rd grade when your best friend told you about the cute, nerdy boy she saw in her neighborhood, where both of you hang most of the time. She was so overwhelmed when she talked about him, and a precious smile appeared on her face every time his name came up.

“Y/n! Did you hear that Sanha is moving to our school next week?” She jumped at you the moment she entered the classroom, holding your shoulders to keep you steady. -“Oh! Really? I cant wait to meet your lover boy.” You tease her with a slight smirk and she blushes right away.

Time flew and you became best friends with Sanha, that bubbly-like-personality boy. You grew up together, he spent all his childhood at your place and you at his, growing taller with him until he became a tower and the one your heart desire.

Somewhere in the middle of the second semester in 11th grade you found yourself dreaming about him, every single night. Even on nights you couldn’t fall asleep, you used to think about him and it would calm you down and make you escape to dreamland. But in the mornings, it felt wrong, almost regretting your dreams you’re not responsible for.

School ends in a bit, and there’s the prom approaching too, which looks like the opportunity to confess your feeling to him, but those other feelings tell you otherwise.

“Y/n!” Sanha calls you from across the hallway, his tall figure can not be avoided and you close the locker when he approaches. -“Well, good morning to you, what’s up?” You ask and shove your hands to the pockets of your hoodie. He looks extremely happy this morning, not as he always feels this early.

“I finally got a suit for the prom, just like I used to tell you I want it to look like when we were kids, remember?” You smile at the excited boy, his lips are shaped perfectly for a wide smile as well. -“oh that’s great! I haven’t found a dress yet.” You pout and look down.

“You don’t need to worry, you’ll be pretty even if you’d wear a trash bag.” Your heart skips a beat at his words and you cough because you don’t want him to notice the blush spreading on your cheeks.

-“Shut up...” you playfully hit his chest, -“Uhm... so, are you gonna invite your date or what?” You were convinced he’s taking you to the prom, but only wanted to make sure you’re right and there’s no other girls in the line for him.

“I thought... we’re going together- I’m... am I wrong?” He stuttered, confused.

-“Exactly. See you later kid.” You heard what you wished to hear from him and kissed him on the cheek for a goodbye. “Call me when your class ends!” Sanha shouts to you as you disappear from his sight in excited jumps and throw a thumb in the air for approval.

As days went by and prom day got closer, you were more frustrated to find the perfect dress in your favorite color.

“How about this?” Sanha shows you a dress he finds cute and not more than this, for you, as you bring a huge bag of snack and sit on your bed. -“Are you kidding me? Do you not know me enough time?” You laugh and open a bag of chips, his favorite kind.

“Woah... y/n. This. You will look beautiful in this.” He opens his mouth in surprise, seems like he found the perfect one for you, while you only tried not to blush from his compliments.

-“oh shut up I’m sure it’s not even pret- oh my... I mean- it’s cute I guess...” you rub your neck nervously as he turns the phone to you, waiting for your reaction and you see the magical dress of your dreams you were looking for, but it was a bit exposing, not too much, but you usually don’t expose skin parts such as your lower neck-chest part near him, and you know you’re going to dance with him all night at prom.

“Cute huh? I’m buying you this...” Sanha teases and states, but you wouldn’t let him pay for this expensive, yet beautiful piece of clothing. -“Wh-no! You’re not.” You turn his shoulder for him to face you and he rolls on the bed and looks at you. “Says who?” He giggles, exposing his beautiful smile that never fails at erasing your serious face. -“Says me! Yoon sanha, you’re not buying this dress unless you don’t want me to come with you to the prom.” You found your manipulative way to stop him from adding the fairy dress to cart and he gives up. “Ok, fine. But it’s just because I want you to come with me, and I know that when you threat, you mean it.” He laughs but he’s right as well.

-“That’s right. Did it start yet?” You take the popcorn from the big plastic bag and open it as your other hand grabs the remote control, searching for the channel eunwoo’s drama is aired on.

Two days are left for the prom, and still you’ve been looking for a proper dress that doesn’t cost the same price as a kidney.

“Hello?” You answer the unfamiliar phone number from the unknown person who you couldn’t recognize by voice. -“Miss y/l/n?” He calls you by your last name, still no clue who calls people like that nowadays, and before you answer with something rude like ‘how did you get my number’, he says, -“I have a package for you, are you home now?” It sounds suspicious, so you run to the window where only you can see him through it, and realize it’s a delivery guy, still doesn’t look like someone you might know.

“I think it might be a mistake... I didn’t order anything.” You stutter in confusion. -“are you y/n who lives in (your address)?” He asks, looking for someone around. “Uhm... yeah...”

-“Then it’s not a mistake, I’m leaving it next to the front door, have a good day.”

You furrow your brows and watch him leave. When he’s completely out of your sight, you run to grab the big box, it’s not especially heavy.

Reaching your room, you throw it on your bed and rush to check the details, they’re all yours, except for the credit card number. That’s when you realize Sanha did pay for that dress, but having doubts, it’s been a while since you last talked about that dress, how come it only arrived now?

“AYO! I’m home!” Sanha shouts from downstairs, he’s like living at your place so he got used to calling it home. “Y/n, you’ll never believ-“ he gets closer to your bedroom.

-“Oh I’m gonna kill you YOON SANHA!” You throw a piece of paper at the big guy who just got home from school. “Holy- stop it!” You grab the pillow he use to sleep on with a picture of two of you printed on it, and about to throw it on him. “Oh you got the dress! Don’t you like it?!” He shouts back at you playfully. -“That’s the problem! I LOVE IT!” And with that last scream of yours, you both calm down and he approaches to give you a hug.

-“Why did you buy it?” Tears of joy and thankfulness fill up your eyes and stream down your cheeks when his shirt covers your face (if you’re tall, then you bury your face in his neck🙂👍🏻), your grip on the pillow releases and it meets the floor. Sanha caress your hair/back, not leaving your figure. “You know I couldn’t leave it there when I saw how your eyes sparkled looking at that dress, it’s perfect for you.”

-“What about my threats?” You lift your head to look at him, scanning his beautiful skin from closer. “You won’t miss the prom when you have a dress like this. We’ve been through a lot for me to not know you enough, y/n.”

It sounds like he was about to confess, little did you know you’re not feeling those strong heartbeats on your own.

On prom night it was the hardest. You couldn’t see Sanha for two days and had struggles falling asleep last night from being too excited. He only called once in those last days on face time to see you but nothing more, it was your decision because you wanted to make tonight special for both of you, and since you know each other, it’s not been more than one day without meeting.

My favorite boi: 7pm, bring yourself only😉

He sent you this text 5 hours ago, and you only replied with a short “k”, glancing at the same text from him every 10 minutes which makes your heart not beat in its regular beat, dancing with a different rhythm.

6:57pm, you look through the window to find his car in your sight, here it is, waiting for you. You only could see the light from his phone, and almost nothing else since it’s already dark outside.

My favorite boi: I’m here, call me when you’re ready😃

The moment he sent this text, you were already at your door, taking a last deep breath and walking out of your house.

“I’m also here.” You bend over to his car window and say quietly, scaring the hell out of him since he was focused on his phone. -“I- oh my god y/n you scared m...” Sanha’s phone finds itself on the car floor in seconds and you laugh at him, he rushes out of his car to approach you.

-“Wow...” his jaw is almost dropped staring at you with your new, fabulous dress he bought you. -“You look amazing.” He puts his hands in the pockets of his blue suit. “Oh stop, pick up your jaw and let’s go.” You tried to laugh the embarrassing situation off before you turn red and your makeup is ruined.

“You look amazing too though.” You shortly say as he opens the car door for you, trying to keep the straight face and not fall into a blushing mess.

You aren’t usually the type to dance insanely infront of everyone in parties, but when he asked your hand for a slow dance, your heart started jumping in a new beat, taking his hand while he walks you to center of the dance floor.

The lights are dark and there’s a romantic atmosphere. Suddenly you get lost in Sanha’s eyes and he get lost in yours, holding your left hand with his own, while his other is resting on your waist, gently, almost uncomfortably holding it.

“What? Do I look beautiful?” You roll your eyes when you can tell he’s about to compliment you.

-“You are.” He giggles and gulps at how fascinating you look with this dress, this close to him. “Ugh...” you sigh and roll your eyes again at him, try hiding your smile with biting your bottom lip. “It’s only because you can’t see me well, it’s dark here.” You brain is telling to stop distracting yourself and do what you planned to, confess. -“You’re always beautiful.” He says and makes you look at him again, staring into the flashlights in his sparkling eyes. -“Besides, I see you very well from here, and you’re all I can see.” He warms your heart more than he should do, and it feels like exploding soon.

“Sanha...” you say his name softly, feeling weak in your knees suddenly, but he holds you tighter as the song gets to its peak. Your arms wrap themselves instinctively around his neck and his around your waist.

-“I love you y/n.” The music is loud, your and his heartbeats are even louder, but his words are all you could hear. At this point you didn’t see anyone and nothing else but him. You say nothing but a shock attacks you and you only stare at him, not even blinking.

“You ruined my plans.” You joke to release the tension. -“huh?” He widens his eyes. “I wanted to tell you I love you, so I guess I just love you bac-“ you sound like it was normal talking about love with him, but inside, you were freaking out. He cuts you off before you finish talking with attaching his plumped lips against yours, kissing you softly while holding your neck.

You tighten the grip on his neck and pull him closer to deepen the kiss, as he smiles through the kiss and pulls away slowly.

-“It’s been years since I’ve fallen for you.”

“I’m so glad we feel the same. I love you Sanha.”

[pinkbelugacollective]

im not sayin julius is a dumbass, but with him thinking charmy was yami’s daughter when in reality she’s just the clover kingdom version of a little person and a straight hustler just speaks VOLUMES of how detached julius has been from his own magic knight brigade, and ultimately, ineffective as a political leader. i know issa joke cuz charmy’s literally two feet tall, but even then, you’d think the WIZARD KING was paying attention to his own roster.

like, if julius put in even HALF a braincell into keeping a close eye on his soldiers, he probably could have figured out on his own that billiam was possessed, but instead, he just let everyone run buckwild to the point where yami was recruiting excons and not offering therapy as a workplace benefit when almost all of his subordinates are mentally ill, purple orcas were STILL acting up, and billiam was literally harboring a terrorist, like i GET julius is incredibly powerful.......... but at the end of the day, he’s also incredibly apathetic to the machinations of his own kingdom and THAT’S why he needs to excuse himself soon, or simply perish and marry zara in the afterlife.

i understand that he KNOWS he’s not really the best king, since he never had any intention of leading people to begin with. the one that wanted change in the world was zara, but he died before he could see his dream come through, and julius only took the bare minimum of that dream and put it into action.

the reason i like to call out that JACK is the one who’s really carrying out zara’s will, is because jack knows that if HE doesnt hire all the common kids with low magic potential and give them a reason to do better for their world, then NO ONE is gonna stand up for the commoner. now, is he actively ignoring people like asta who’re probably the clover version of a mutant? yes, but jack doesnt run his squad to cater to hurt feelings, and i tend to believe his view of asta was similar to father orsi’s, ie asta having no magic was viewed more as him having a disability than a mutation and thus exempt from joining the military brigade. from characters like en ringard and sekke, you understand that jack knows that their world is virulently hateful towards people of lower classes, and YES he sold out when he joined the clover version of a corrupt military, but en ringard’s character makes it clear that this military is one of the few ways people in jack’s and en’s class can thrive in their world..... and when you got bellies to fill, you not gonna give a FUCK who you gotta kill. in a way, as idealistic as zara was, jack parallels that idealism with the staunch realism of being dirt poor.

it’s also why more and more, im inclined to believe that julius WILL die in the end, not bc he’s gonna get one-upped by a ghost elf, but bc he KNOWS that the kingdom will never grow if he and people in his level of power (damnatio, king kira, the noble houses) continue to maintain that control. as MUCH as everyone wanted to wordsmith the goddamn WORDSMITH DEMON to say that humans werent the ones at fault for the elven genocide....... it’s pure and utter bullshit bc zagred could do what he did BECAUSE the nobles of clover were that selfish. lumiere and secre just happened to be the only outlier nobles who WEREN’T dirty, but two people cant change the world, and the elven genocide DID happen, and to this day, the nobles who helped carry out the genocide ARE STILL IN POWER. issa moot point that uwu asta and yuno are now peasant bois in the clover military cuz HELLO, the ones running that damn military are descendants of people who financed and carried out a genocide.

i’d go as far as to say that the elven genocide probably WASN’T the first time a species was wiped out or exiled to make room for humans to exercise their power. bringing it back to charmy, i think about how she was arguably one of the most powerful characters BEFORE her wolf and her heritage was revealed, but the second the wolf showed up, it’s like HIS rage poured into charmy like he was waiting for her to wake the fuck up and smell the music, and it’s not unlike the generational trauma that follows descendants of oppressed minorities, cuz when you snap, you SNAP! what’s worst is that charmy doesnt even really know WHO she is, bc somewhere along the way, she wasnt taught about half her heritage, and i can only believe it’s either bc her parents were trying to protect her, or bc they’re simply dead and that there was no one to teach her about the wolf living in her soul.

which brings me the purpose of this crackheaded rollercoaster... i believe tabata is setting up an interspecies continent-wide war! one of the things i also tend to believe is that not ALL the elves were killed in the genocide, and the few that survived either a) ran to different continents to regroup with different elves of different cultures, or b) integrated with humans and hid their heritage with magic makeup, or c) a lil bit of both! we’re probably another hundred or so chapters from meeting the dwarves, but i suspect we’ll meet them, along with the earth elemental spirit, and of course the rest of the demons. in addition, i also dont think the dark triad are the final villains of the black clover saga. if anything, i believe they’re the gateway to exposing the real villains, which are the clover royalty, and i would NOT be surprised if the story drives all of our main characters to band together against the very institution they’ve been protecting thus far. i see a commoner uprising, a peasant uprising, a fucking dwarven and or elven invasion, i see yami’s people rolling up with their ki-based martial arts and dimensional magic as secondary invaders, and anti magic demon straight SAUNTERING into the chat with booty shorts, a croptop, and a cigarette while proclaiming he’s asta’s wife.

[captain-jinguji]

omg can I request reiji for the yandere alphabet thing pls

YES YOU CAN!! sorry it took so long ;-;

REIJI KOTOBUKI YANDERE ALPHABET

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Its not about how HE shows love its about how THEY show love. Hes quite literally a baby and needs attention all the time so he'll force love and affection out of THEM. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Ehm… well the sad part about this is that.. It may or may not ever get as bad as him eliminating not only strangers, but also people they and him know like… bandmates… And family…. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Very kindly like nothing was ever wrong? Almost makes it seem like theyre taking a vacation at his house ya know? Only that it's forever… he doesnt mock them, he just comforts them and then goes on about his happy-go-lucky business. 

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

YES. If his darling shows any discomfort toward something and HE really wants to do it, he'll force them. But he'll also praise them afterwards for going through with it; almost like congratulating a child for jumping into the deep end of the pool. 

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

The only thing he doesnt like to expose his darling to is his really dark side and it doesnt come out a lot (thank god). Other than that, his darling knows his every thought and feeling. 

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would quite honestly get angry after a while. At first he'd think its funny and maybe even fight them, too, but all games have to end at some point. 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It was in the beginning. Oh darling~ its so cute that you're trying to escape. Except that you cant. Go on, try it, every door is locked, but Rei-chan's arms will forever be open for you. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Yandere Reiji is like a complete thrill seeker… but dangerous. Going down the highway at 180kmh+ without seatbelts is only the beginning. Bungee jumping without a cord, entering the lions den in the zoo. He gets CRAZY and quite honestly all of thise scenarios were the worst things his darling has experienced. 

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

The fun kind of course! Marriage, kids, adventures. You cant fight against that, he will get what he wants no matter what. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He feels jealousy all the time but usually creeps people off with laughs and weird jokes that no one understands..rarely lashes out unless the threat really doesn't take the hint. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Loving, kind of babyish, and honestly kind of like a house husband? Its weird because he seems so domestic and loving but hes also super crazy and sadistic.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

His fun personality and teasing draws a lot of people in and he uses that to his advantage. Much like Syo, he'd become best friends with them first and then slowly move himself into his s/o's life permanently. 

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Actually, no. Most of QN and STARISH already think he's crazy as all hell so this is really not a huge surprise to any of them. 

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

By making them do crazy things; irrational things; dangerous things. Making them BEG him to not go through with it and please spare their life. Hes very much a heart attack kind of person. 

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

It seems like his darling has a lot of rights at first, but the leash theyre on is shorter than they think. He controls them from behind the curtains and most likely, no one would know. Not even his darling. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very patient. Very loving. Babies his darling and reasons that it's just a child having a little emotionally overwhelming moment. He will tell himself, and them, that this is normal, and rock them back and forth, singing softly to them. 

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

You cant escape the craziness thats the thing. It's almost like a haunted house, hes EVERYWHERE. On billboards, behind you, even across the world from you. If his darling dies, he would feel like losing a family member and hit a deep episode of depression, maybe even take his own life. 

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Absolutely not lol. His darling is meant to be with him by any means necessary~ 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Curiosity more than anything. He wanted to test his own limits and see where it takes him, its just that he fell down this hole and cant get out anymore, not that he wants to, either. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He would hurt with them and do anything to see that beautiful smile again. He doesnt understand that he's the reason theyre not smoking and just holds them tightly, even if they fight back. Its okay, Rei-chan is here ~ 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Again, he does go to CRAZY extremes by putting both his and his darling's lives in danger. Takes "til death do us apart" to a whole new level. 

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He has no weakness, like many of these guys. He doesnt feel guilty or understands why his darling would ever try to escape 

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

In the bedroom, yes ~ other than that, he just likes to give them heart attacks. Not actually hurt. Sure he'll hold a knife to your throat and hang you from the roof top but you didn't think he'd actually hurt you, did you? Silly darling~ 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

His darling is his whole world and he would make that known in more ways than one..he would engrave it into the earth if he could.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Not very long. He becomes very clingy very fast and his darling realizes that pretty soon, but shrugs it off as it just being Reiji. Thats how he gets you. 

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He may or may not realize it but he breaks his darling slowly over time until they're successfully and truly his. No one stands in their way, and if Reiji has to get rid if a few bodies along the way, he will. 

[fairycosmos]

That “new mental illnesses as a result from social media” is such a hot take and super interesting 👀 I’d love to hear more about what you mean, if you’d be willing to share (?) Love your blog btw 💕✨

you're a real one for reading those dumb ass tags omgggg 😣 honestly just speaking freely here.......i feel like the gradual development of new mental disorders is basically inevitable at this point, or at least the extreme exacerbation of preexisting ones. especially as more and more kids are born into the social media age. they have no alternative way of life to compare it to, nothing to reference other than having a camera in their faces from the moment they were born. listen i love the internet, i think it's one of the most important and significant tools humans have ever created. but the specific way that social media is being utilized and leveraged in recent years is just not conducive to a healthy society :/ there are so many ways we're being manipulated by it, so i'll cut to the bones of it: we're not supposed to be exposed to a continuous slew of sensationalized/false information. we're not supposed to be advertised to 24/7, especially subliminally. we're not supposed to feel watched all of the time, to always worry about this third invisible spectator. we're not supposed to swap out genuine human interaction for online interaction (a trap i fell into long ago lmao). we're not supposed to perform our lives for a sense of validation. we're not supposed to despise ourselves without makeup/fillers/plastic surgery/certain products. we're not supposed to build our own goals around the falsified, photoshopped content that those we 'idolize' shove down our throats. even more so because we only idolize them because we perceive them to have the perfect existence that we've been taught to chase. this sort of conditioning goes directly against our basic needs. i can not imagine how kids today see the world. their brains are so malleable, and the lines between what is attainable/real and what isn't have been completely blurred. thats their core impression of human existence, what the rest of their lives will be based off of :( so i cant help but to foresee emotional and social issues in their futures, and in my own.....but i think the commercialization of these apps really seems to be the crux of the issue, at least to an extent. they build a social hierarchy, peddle it to us non stop and promise it's possible to get to the top if you pay your way there, but the average person never will. obviously. like, once you're a consumer, you're looking for a void to fill - they take something away, whether thats your confidence or your privacy or your time - so they can then sell you the solution. and that's dangerous for everyone, but especially for children who don't even realize they're a part of this game. but of course they partake anyway, because everyone does. because it has so much control over us, using our need to share and connect and to feel appreciated against us. you know, people say it's not that deep but i beg to differ. think about the characteristics of many (of course not all) medically recognized mental illnesses - low self esteem, loose grip of reality, anxiety/insecurity, paranoia, emptiness and boredom, never feeling 'good enough', emotional isolation. and then look at what a lot of the communities on these social media apps inspire in us? there's definitely an overlap there. and i'm absolutely including myself in this too btw. i'm not about shaming ppl for simply being impacted by common/modern culture. just wish there was more of an honest or well known conversation abt it :( anyway sorry i just think about this pretty consistently for some reason lmfao so i have a lot to Say....thank you so much for enjoying my blog and for being willing to listen!! hope you're taking care and having a lovely day angel 💕✨

[fromfrannie]

(MOLLY GORDON, CIS WOMAN) - Have you seen FRANCINE LESSER? FRANNIE is in her JUNIOR year. The CHEMICAL ENGINEERING MAJOR is/are 20 years old & is a PISCES. People say SHE is/are IMAGINATIVE, POSITIVE, COWARDLY and OBSESSIVE. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE HAS AN ONLYFANS THAT SHE’S USING TO SAVE UP FOR MED SCHOOL. 

statistics

general

full name: francine lesser

nicknames: frannie, fran

age: twenty

date of birth: march 1st, 2000

hometown: manhattan, new york

sexuality: heterosexual

current residence: preaker, vermont

languages spoken: english

personality

zodiac: pisces sun, pisces moon, taurus rising

alignment: lawful good

mbti: esfj

appearance

hair color: brown

eye color: dark-brown

height: 5'4"

biography

francine lesser, sister to felix and finn lesser, had always been the apple of father’s eye. which is likely why after babe and henry divorced, she was the child who remained with her father. she’d only been ten at the time, it wasn’t as if anybody was asking for her input. the only reason for it? the clear fact that frannie was a gifted child, especially in math and science. at a young age, her father had taken her to different universities, testing how far her intellectual abilities could go. the fact that she was unexplainably bright was the reason she was often accepted with open arms by the ford family, despite not having their last name.

she had always been close with her siblings, as close as she really could be considering how much she was always away, but she certainly wasn’t as exposed to her mother’s drug problems like finn and felix were. after the couple divorced, henry had practically forced frannie to live with him, only allowing her to visit her siblings and mother on occasion. it was just one of the things that she had begun to resent her father for, because of how much her family meant to her. she eventually began private schooling, transferring to felix’s same boarding school when she entered high school.

she wasn’t anyone special in high school, mostly keeping to a small group of friends. she cared about school a great deal, usually spent most of her time in the books. though there were a few boys, not that her father would ever find out about that.

henry was controlling of frannie’s life. her schooling, including which university she would attend, who she was friends with, what society she would join, what career she would have. her father’s plan was for frannie to become an engineer, eventually joining his family’s company. the only problem was, this wasn’t her dream. she wanted to become a doctor, a surgeon. to help people. not design cars. she practically had to beg her father to let her major in chemical engineering, and not mechanical engineering like he wanted. there wasn’t even a word to be said about joining calloway, even if frannie preferred hastings. she was the responsible, dependable daughter. she couldn’t tell her father that his plan for her entire life had too many faults in it.

it wasn’t until she was exposed to the freedoms that come with being in college that she learned there was another way. while she couldn’t exactly tell her father she had dreams of medical school, nor could she expect him to foot the bill for it, there were other means of having an income. so yes, she became a part-time accountant.

keeping an onlyfans on the low wasn’t easy, but she managed it. she hadn’t told her parents, her siblings, or even her closest friends. but it was the only way she was going to be able to escape her father’s timeline and become who she really wanted to be. her name? dr. a. she thought it was fitting.

headcanons

super sweet!! just like, wants to help everyone out.

comes off as kind of innocent, but on the inside she isn’t the goody-two shoes everyone thinks she is

really, really good at math. it’s probably her best subject. she learnt all of calculus around age 11? she’s just super amazing at it

pretty much was in every gifted program as a kid but didn’t get the complex and procrastination skills that came with it

a little superstitious? like wears the same scrunchie on her left wrist every time she takes an exam and will only chew spearmint gum when she’s studying because she thinks it stimulates her brain more

kind of weird and definitely a nerd but like? a cute nerd so she gets a pass

wanted connections

secret love story: omg can someone give frannie a bad boy to have a MAJOR crush on but she either cant say anything about it or they have to keep their relationship a secret because she’s highkey scared of her dad and if he finds out he’d make her break up with him and she doesn’t want to

best friends: frannie is like the ultimate mom friend … even when she’s drunk she’s like babe u gotta drink some water do you want me to hold ur hair back? she’s very kind and sweet and nurturing (which probably would’ve come in handy if she ever lived with her mom :/)

anything baby!! flings, hookups, enemies, people she tutors, friends

[lizzieraindrops]

Your chance to make the sun rise thrice (Chapter 2)

a river that still runs (8803 words)

Beth Childs has come to Helsinki to meet her best friend Veera for the first time in the Herbs on the windowsill universe, an alternate timeline where the original Helsinki massacre was prevented and DYAD routed by Clone Club Alpha’s successful publicity stunt back in 2001. Veera Suominen and Niki Lintula survived and decided to live in a little apartment together as qpp’s. Numerous Leda clones worldwide are now in contact via a secure online network that Veera maintains. 

Note: This chapter is a bit heavier than the rest of the AU. Beth is still struggling with a lot of the same challenges in this universe, even if the events causing them are somewhat different because of such early canon divergence. But the whole point of this story is that things can end up okay no matter how rough it's been. She's getting the help she needs and she's gonna be alright. That said, warning for soft discussion of past abuse, the effects of trauma, depression and anxiety, and some suicidal ideation. And of course, lots of love and learning how to heal, with support from her best friend.

Fun fact: Veera's username is 3mika, and she always sets her font to the precise warm turquoise of hex color #2299aa. She thinks she's hilarious, and she's right. 

Also on AO3  |  Playlist  |  Aesthetic sideblog

Part 1: Herbs on the windowsill

Part 2: Someday colors

Part 3: Your chance to make the sun rise thrice  |  Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3

***

Beth wakes on a squashy couch that isn't hers. Morning-soft sunlight pours through the window above her, bouncing back off the walls to fill even the shady corners with a warm secondhand glow. Her limbs are soft, splayed under unfamiliar blankets and sinking into the cushions. She doesn't move yet.

The apartment. Helsinki. Beth's really here. She holds herself still, letting the truth sink into her. She half expects the usual anxious tension to clench her into a ball the instant she moves a muscle, but it isn't there. Neither is the invisible weight that so often pins her immobile. She still wakes frequently with both of them holding her body hostage, keeping her muscles unmoving but restless, even in sleep. Right now though, they're gone. She just lies there, soft beneath the window.

It's quiet but not silent. The occasional car on the little road outside chuckles as it passes. A soft rush of water echoes through pipes in the walls, running toward an early riser in another unit. These sounds fall strangely on Beth's Toronto-bred ears, isolated in the stillness of this of this little apartment on the outskirts of the city. Still, the early-morning atmosphere settles comfortably into her jet-lagged bones, murmuring a rhythm for her to sink into. The temporal upheaval of a transcontinental red-eye and a series of exhausted naps yesterday have left her a little unbalanced. And yet, here she is waking up with the day, and the ground under her feels so much more stable than she’s used to.

Beth breaks her stillness with a deep, deep breath that she can feel expanding all the way down to her feet. She stretches, too, but soon pulls the toes that get exposed back underneath the warm, scratchy blanket. The cushions of the old couch creak a little in complaint as she shifts, but her limbs remain supple. For a time, she just observes the sensations. Then, her awareness spreads beyond the couch and the window to the rest of the room.

All around her, an oddly blocky pattern covers the walls. It's one of the first things she noticed when she walked into the apartment yesterday afternoon. The pattern isn't wallpaper like it appears at first glance, but actually a multitude of small photographs. Most of them are unframed, but taped up in crisply aligned rows. In them, she sees the same face infused with a hundred different lives. Just above her, a sleeping, slack-jawed redhead with bulky headphones around her neck sprawls on the very same couch Beth's laying on now. A few rows down, a brunette and a blonde with their long hair in matching wild waves are leaning all over each other and grinning like devils. One of the few framed photos shows a girl with a hospital-short buzz cut and a delighted expression, sitting in front of what looks like a mouthwatering strawberry shortcake. Beth can see at least six others in the background behind strawberry girl. Among them are Mika with her unmistakable scars and Niki with her bright blonde hair, their arms around each other's shoulders.

Morning light glances off the glossy surfaces of the photos on the west wall. The particularly bright reflection off one of the framed photos draws Beth's eye. With a tiny jolt, Beth recognizes one of her own selfies beneath the glass. In it, she's wearing the same old turquoise blue sweatshirt that's spilling out of her suitcase next to the couch right now. Underneath it, she's wearing her track gear, so the photo is at least two years old. She'd had to quit cross-country so she could try to get the shitshow her life had become under control. She vaguely recalls sending it to Mika a long time ago. It's strange to think that her presence has been in this apartment for so long.

She's here. In Finland. Staying with Mika – Mika - and Niki. Far, far away from everything.

Sprawling on the couch she slept on with a sigh as if she hadn’t a care in the world, Beth can't believe she's really gone and done it. She's run so far away that there's an ocean between her and her problems. It’s so much better than she's dreamed, even if it's only for a little while. It’s worth it, even though she'll be going back far too soon. For the first time in years, it feels like she’s where she’s supposed to be right now.

It had all started out as foolish idea she'd floated one Saturday morning, months ago. She hadn't been serious at all. She'd woken up so relieved at not having to get up and go to work, until she remembered her weekly therapy appointment with a hopeless groan.

Putting off the genuinely daunting prospect of hauling herself out of bed, she reached out to snag her phone from on top of her dresser, checking to see if she'd heard from Mika overnight. After all, Helsinki was nine hours ahead, so Mika had already seen most of the day that was just beginning for Beth. They talked so often these days, since they'd first made contact over two years ago. Rarely a day passed without touching base. But there wasn’t anything since Beth had checked last night. She took it upon herself to send the first message of the day.

runwaterblue: god, i dont wanna get up and deal with any of thsi shit today

After her world fell apart, after finding out about Project Leda, after realizing that all her nightmares and more were real, after her father...

runwaterblue: wish i could come visit u and get away form everything for awhile

Mika replied almost immediately.

3mika: you can

It was evening in her time zone, but to be honest, Beth had no idea if she had anything resembling a regular sleep schedule. The girl was always online.

3mika: though you really should go to your appointment. you always feel better afterward

runwaterblue: howd you know i have therapy today

3mika: you always have an appointment saturday afternoons

runwaterblue: yes but how do you remember that? i cant evne remember my own appts lmao

3mika: you mentioned it months ago when you switched from sundays to saturdays

Beth shook her head with a smile. Mika was so good with details.

3mika: anyway. you’re welcome here, if you can get here

3mika:  it would be great to see you

3mika: Niki wouldn't mind. we've had a bunch of Ledas visit us here, it's always fun

3mika: except that one time Dani and Ary got into a fight over football. some French-Italian team rivalry thing. that was not fun.

Beth laughed. It was funny how Mika was so good at making her do that, even on days like these. She leaned back against her pillow and held her phone over her head without sitting up, being careful not to drop it on her own face. She'd done that before. More times than she'd admit.

runwaterblue: i was kidding. id love to visit, but idk how id get there

runwaterblue: u should see the americans go off abt their football lmao. they're nerly as bad as the hockey freaks here

3mika: pls no

3mika: no more sports. it was a year ago and I’m still exhausted

3mika: sports are banned in this apartment.

Beth snorted. Mika wanted nothing to do with sports of any kind, and with Beth's athletic record, the topic had become a point of mutual teasing between them.

In so many ways, they were such different people, DNA be damned. Mika was reticent where Beth was outgoing. (Or at least, Beth had been. She was never quite sure how to think of herself these days.) Clone drama aside, Beth had been a pretty average Canadian high schooler. She got reasonable grades, played a few sports, and kept mostly out of trouble because there would be hell to pay if she didn’t. Mika was a brilliant homeschooled autistic orphan who had been raised in near isolation by her guardian after surviving the hospital fire that marked her skin for life. Beth mostly listened to pop music, and where no one else could hear, the occasional classical symphony. Mika held fast to Finland's weird obsession with death metal and dabbled in literally everything else.

And yet, Mika understands Beth like no one else does. And it's not just because they've both been through all this Project Leda bullshit. Though Beth doesn't know what she would have done without Mika to help her through that, too.

Beth won't ever be able to forget the moment that everything changed. Recognizing a her own face from the mirror on the evening news stopped her in her tracks, as something in her gut caved in with the hollow certainty that it wasn't her. Then face after face flickered before her, a flipbook barrage of déja vu. Blonde and smiling. Scarred and pensive. Braids and piercings and a rakish grin. Beth was rooted in place as people she had never been wearing things she had never worn said things she was never supposed to know.

That utter strangeness on the screen immediately seeped into her life like an oil slick into a river, tainting every thing she thought she knew with clinging uncertainty. Her father was inexplicably even more upset about it than Beth was, yet adamant that they shouldn't look into the matter. But it was already too late to stop herself from thinking. With slow horror, the truth of what exactly his behavior must mean dawned on her. And yet, even with the desperate growing certainty about who her Leda monitor must be, it was hard to believe that he could be anything other than her plain stern father.

He was always a bit strict and overprotective - probably well more than a bit, she realizes these days. But she’d thought that's just what it was like to be a cop's daughter. He'd never done anything really extreme, nothing beyond the firm discipline any kid could expect. He was just not a man to be trifled with, that was all. So until everything she thought she knew shifted that day and threatened to topple every assumption she’d built her life on, she had never truly dared to cross him.

Outright daring him to say to her face that he wasn't her monitor was probably considered a step beyond trifling. He did not take it kindly.

Two months later, Beth and her mother were living in an apartment on the opposite side of the city. It took two months for the two of them to lay plans to leave together, for good. For two months, her every move was watched. She spent two months knowing there would be hell to pay if she didn't give the performance of a lifetime pretending everything was fine, even while sirens blared inside her day and night. Two months was more than enough to teach her things she never wanted to know about the hidden marks fear leaves on the body.

Even after she finally escaped, her life was in tatters and nothing made sense. It wasn’t just the sudden jarring discovery of Project Leda, or the crisis it had forced her to confront. It was learning that, deep down, she had known that she’d never once felt free. She’d unconsciously kept herself from knowing to avoid exactly that conflict of wills that she’d known she would lose.

Trying to come to terms with what had happened and how it changed everything, Beth was continuously losing her balance. Questioning which parts of her life had been screwed over by her father and which by being part of some ridiculous supervillain science experiment was like trying to stand on two kickboards in a pool. She couldn't find her footing, and all she could do was try and stay afloat. She had to repeat her whole junior year of high school that she lost to this shitshow, while starting over at a new school, and only barely scraped her way into senior year. Now that she knew how honestly terrible she'd been at judging who in her life she could trust, it was as hard to talk to old friends as it was to make new ones.

Therapy helped her start sorting out what she was feeling, and how the environment she’d grown up in was really not the healthiest. She hadn’t realized how much she’d learned to doubt her own perceptions. That made constructing any kind of new understanding of her situation an uphill struggle. And of course, her therapist couldn’t help her confirm anything about a human experiment that was so illegal it had been an international secret. As she continued to stumble forward, Beth even started doubting her former certainty of the identity of her Leda monitor. She questioned herself and everything she knew until she wanted to scream with frustration or weep with confusion. The floor of the counselor’s office could have been mopped with her tears. It was, quite literally, driving her mad.

So, finally, Beth had taken up the invitation on the banner of every Leda news feature to "Contact the secure, clone-run Clone Youth Group Network (CYGNet) for answers by emailing info@cygnet.org."

She wanted something concrete that would help convince her brain to stop reenacting these head games that warped her reality. It still insisted on playing through the patterns it had been taught, even in its teacher’s absence. She needed something that could brace her against the ideas that she was really just paranoid, overreacting, accusing, that this was all her fault for making a big deal out of nothing. Even with his other faults (cruelties, her mind whispered) aside, at least his involvement with Project Leda was unforgivable, and she wanted proof of it. Maybe if she had that, she could stop being mad at herself for not wanting to forgive. And if anyone had that proof, CYGNet would.

Maybe it was just because of the sheer blunt honesty about her motives, or the inescapable vulnerability of the message Beth sent, but Mika had replied to her within a day. And she'd been so gentle about it, too, enough to make Beth later question where the stereotype of autistic brashness came from. Then again, over email, Mika had all the time she needed to compose her thoughts and lay them out as softly as she wanted. She didn't have to spit them out as fast as she could to keep pace with a quick and painfully overwhelming world.

Hi Beth Childs,

I'm so sorry for what you had to go through. I still don't know how they got away with doing things like this for so long. I suppose people will always find ways to be cruel. But we've survived this long, and the whole point of CYGNet is to help us all heal. The experimental network has been dismantled, and we are assembling resources to help us. We've brought mental health professionals on to the project to develop custom programs for our needs. We can make them available to you, if you are interested.

I attached scans of some of your files that we recovered from DYAD. There are a few case reports with the signature of the person you asked about, spaced throughout your lifetime. There are also financial records with his name in the list of paid employees. He was without a doubt part of the Leda monitor program. I can provide all of the documentation that we have related to you, if you like, but I thought that would be too much all at once. I know these are hard to look at, but I hope they help let your mind rest. They are very real, and every awful thing we have experienced was also real, no matter how they tried to convince everyone that we were making it all up.

Please take your time with these, and stay in contact if you want to. You can join our mailing list, if you want to know when we have new information or new resources available. We're here for you.

And hey, if you just want to talk to someone who knows what it's like to deal with all of this, I'm here, too. You can reach my personal inbox or IM me at wiz.of.dos@cygnet.org. It'll be okay.

-Veera

Beth had started crying before she even finished reading the letter, much less opened the attachments. She cried so often these days. She only knew why half the time. But this time, it felt like the tears were extracting some of her pain as they left her, instead of just overflowing from the unending wellspring of her directionless distress. All of this was real, and someone else knew it.

Though she was grateful beyond measure for her mother’s untiring support, they were each other’s too-close, ever-present reminders of what they’d survived, trying to act like they weren’t, trying to convince each other and themselves that they were okay. Beth had needed something else, too, something until now unnamed.

This was a handhold, a backstop Beth didn't know she'd been desperate to find. It wasn't just the confirmation of what she’d concluded about her father. The ability speak plainly to someone she didn't feel the need to pretend around was an exhale of a breath held too long. At least one person in the world not only understood, but really and truly didn't want or expect her to act like any of this was normal or okay, or that she would ever be the same again.

Veera – or Mika, as she often went by online – made good on her offer of a sympathetic ear. Their correspondence started off with awkward, grammatically correct messages about the less painful details of their lives. Mika told her about the farmer’s market three blocks away where she went walking early in the morning before it got busy, and the plant stand there that her best friend and roommate Niki (also a Leda) had to ask her to stop buying so many succulents from.

At first, Beth tried to chatter like she used to, but there were no safe subjects. What had happened had touched all of her life. Normally, she’d talk about school, or sports, or her friends. But she was trying to start all over again at a new school with all the struggles that came with it. She didn’t have the time or energy for sports anymore, and talking about them hurt, now. Running used to make her heart sing. But no matter how she tried, there was no joy in the motion anymore. To top it all off, it was as hard to connect with old friends from her old life as it was to try and make new ones. She spent most interactions either doubting her own character judgement or dreading the moment people recognized her Leda face from the news.

She didn’t know how to talk about any of it to anyone. Maybe she could have if it had been just the clone thing or just the dad thing. But the two were inextricably entangled, and she still couldn’t even explain it to herself. It was all unbelievably horrifying, and any time she tried to be honest about it, people ended up disbelieving or horrified. Shocker.

Maybe, though, it wouldn’t be weird to talk about it with Mika. Mika already knew the worst. Beth didn’t have to hide that hurt from her to keep from shaking her world, or to keep her dismissal from hurting Beth. Maybe that’s what was hurting the most: the feeling that even after escaping, she still had to pretend to be okay. That compulsive stifling feeling choked her whenever it bubbled back up. On her bad days, a simple “how are you?” could reduce her to a blank face plastered over a raw tangle of emotions held motionless her own iron grip.

But Mika mentioned having bad days, too. Days came where she was too scared and nightmare-weary to do anything but make herself some tea and soak up some sunlight in the safety of home. Beth could casually say things like after those two months, i still twitch every time i hear a door open, and i wish my body would quit feeling like it doesn’t exist, my legs feel numb. It barely broke the surface of what it was like in her head, but was discomfiting enough for people that she held her tongue at school.

Sometimes, Beth got tired of constantly thinking about all this shit and tried to lighten things up. On one comically disastrous occasion of cultural exchange, she liveblogged Mika her attempt at eating the infamous Scandinavian lutefisk, along with an audio recording of the incoherent horrified noises she made after tasting it. In return, she received a recording of someone, presumably Mika, laughing harder than she’d ever heard anyone laugh before. It made Beth smile. Not many things did, back then.

Slowly, as the formality fell away from their transcontinental conversations, their heavier stories seething below the surface seeped in. Beth had been in therapy long enough now to know that she couldn't just recklessly unload on people the way she did in counseling sessions. But a counselor couldn't always provide the same kind of unspoken solidarity that someone in the same boat could.

Bit by bit, slipped into the chats that were becoming a daily occurrence, they talked about monitors, about what the experiment had really all been for, why that both was and wasn’t important, and how they'd discovered they were a part of Project Leda. Putting words to the pain hurt, a lot. But the ability to lay out long-unspoken truths in front of each other, knowing they were believed in the way that only people who have shared something can, was a healing kind of pain instead of the festering one Beth had been living with.

The two of them had more in common than they'd thought, growing up a world apart. Beth's experience raised under the subconscious wariness of her father's hovering thumb felt a lot like what Mika described growing up largely isolated with her former guardian. But sometimes, whenever they realized that something they'd both thought was normal was pretty not, they got a good laugh out of it despite the weight of their pasts. Mika seemed somewhat accustomed to her normal being considered pretty weird, so she usually took the revelations in stride better than Beth did. Beth wouldn't find out for at least a year after meeting her that it was because of her Asperger's, since it was a topic Mika seemed quite sensitive about.

Mika explained it once, in a conversation full of long pauses on her part and watching the typing icon disappear and reappear on Beth’s. The way she put it, it just meant that her brain worked a bit differently than most people's, processing sounds and sights and all the information it took in at different speeds and with different emphases. The difference could turn everyday things like the sound of a refrigerator running into a splitting headache, or something as simple as the soft texture of her favorite jacket into a kind of bliss. That alternative way of processing also extended to things like words and emotions as well. Sometimes, it took her longer than the world was willing to wait to process them into something that made sense. It often made communication tricky, trying to compensate for the gap in mutual understanding with most people. The world and the people in it could be so overwhelming sometimes, so fast and bright and full of noise and uncertainty and bewilderingly arbitrary social conventions. But the biggest challenge was other people expecting her to do everything the same way they did, ignorant of the fact there were any ways to exist other than their own, and completely oblivious to the fact that she was already putting in at least twice as much effort to communicate with them as they were with her.

And yet, even coming from such a different perspective, Mika gets it. Beth says sometimes i dream of drowning and its not a nightmare and i wake up not knowing how to feel, and Mika says I still dream of burning and wake up not knowing which fires are real, and they both say yeah. And they sit there across the world from each other knowing these things, knowing that it doesn't fix anything. And yet, it does change something. Nothing's any better, really. But somehow, the knowledge that someone else understands makes it a little easier to bear.

And that's just it. Somehow, without ever even having seen her face, Mika sees Beth clearer than anyone. All of her, all the ugly parts she hides so that they can't hurt anyone, and all the good parts that she also hides so that nobody can hurt them or take them away from her. Mika sees all of that and then just tells Beth another story about the Northern Lights she sees on the regular. Apparently, in Finnish, they’re called "fox fires." Beth hardly ever sees the aurora, living relatively far south in a bright city. But her stories about life in the metropolis by the lake intrigue Mika as much as the tales of the twisting green lights do her. And Beth can talk about something lighter again while not having to pretend that the heaviness isn’t there, too, even while she’s just once more trying and failing to explain poutine. For her, the weight never really goes away. But the effort of pretending she’s not carrying it takes more out of her than the weight itself. Mika understands that.

Maybe that’s why Beth had talked it over with Mika first, even before her mom, when she was considering taking a gap year after she hopefully managed to finish her senior year of high school. (God, it was so hard to think about English or math or whatever when just that morning she’d woken from a nightmare about being back in a not-home house that she never escaped.) Beth's mom had been so unbelievably supportive of Beth's recovery, even while she herself was adjusting to the wrenching change in both of their lives. It was both inspiring and a little intimidating. If her mom managed to run a household and raise a daughter all on her own, even while trying to heal from her own trauma, how could Beth not do her utmost, too? She was grateful to be able to talk to Mika about it, to get a reality check from someone who both understood her situation intimately and didn't make Beth feel that pressure of expectation. In the end, Beth did decide to take a year or two off before considering college, and her mom was again nothing if not supportive. Beth figured, after this entire mess, she deserved some time to herself to work on sorting her shit out, and her mom agreed.

After graduating with reasonable if not flying colors, Beth worked a series of part-time and odd jobs that didn't stress her out too much, letting herself focus on her own healing. In between her mom's support, seeing a counselor regularly, and the security of having a friend she could really trust, Beth felt like she was making progress. Slow progress, sure, but progress, nonetheless. Considering that she had seventeen years' worth of lies to unbelieve and emotional trauma to finally acknowledge, Beth figured that there was only so much she could do in the three years she'd had.

Her days were still hard. Getting sleep and waking up and eating and even just existing were still so fucking hard sometimes, and it was horrible. Some days, the thinnest sheet trapped her in bed like it was a car pinning her down. It felt so stupid for such simple things to be so hard. But then her therapist would remind her that that’s what mental illness and trauma was, that this was what the wounds in her mind and heart made her feel like. And once in awhile, sun broke through the shadows, and she had a day that reminded her what an okay day felt like – that okay days existed. That more might.

Now, she’s here, lying in a bright living room so far from home, with her dearest friend in the next room. She’s comfortable, except for the knot in her neck from sleeping oddly on the couch. The soreness pales in comparison to the usual tensions that are so strangely absent. Beth can’t remember the last time she felt this okay. She’s not steeling herself to go to work. She’s not dreading the next conversation with her mother that goes quiet as they both remember awful things they don’t mention. She’s not bracing herself for the next time her brain runs rampant worrying about whether she’ll run into the subject of her restraining order somewhere in the city and have to wonder if he'll honor it.

None of that reaches her here. There’s something about this quiet little pocket of space. It’s overrun with a proliferation of potted plants, from the sprawling lacy-leafed monster in the corner, to the fern peeping out of the kitchen, to the vine cuttings spilling out of an oddly familiar leaf-shaped glass bottle on the sill. Sunlight streaks through leaves and windowpanes and across the colorful patchwork of rugs on the floor. In the midst of it all, Beth is held by a palpable aura of gentleness. It holds her so softly that she doesn't need to hold herself in. It's like the layer of caution that she always keeps wrapped between herself and the rest of the world has simply dissolved away. In this moment suspended in morning light, she is okay.

She feels safe.

The realization undoes something in her. She feels the tears starting, and she expects the taut tension of involuntary stifling that always comes with them to return. But it doesn’t. She lies still and soft on the couch with the water creeping over her cheeks, breath occasionally catching but flowing freely. She savors it in the quiet.

The soft thunk of an ill-fitted door opening breaks into her odd reverie. Mika’s up. Beth sniffs and scrubs at her eyes halfheartedly, but she can’t hide them right now and she doesn’t want to. Mika notices immediately, and comes trotting over with quiet steps, leaning forward all concern.

"Beth," she says softly. She shifts from foot to foot like a nervous cat, watching Beth with enormous eyes. Beth has never met anyone else with such an intense stare. Or maybe it's just the fact that Beth knows beyond all doubt that she's being looked at by somebody who really sees her in her entirety. It's like she's staring right into Beth's soul. But Mika was able to do that long before they saw each others' faces. They've shared so many thousands of words over screens and seas, so many emotions that have gone otherwise unspoken, so many too-early mornings and too-late nights on the fringes of each other's dawns and dusks.

“What’s wrong?”

Finally, a flash of that sick tension runs through Beth’s body. It’s been okay when Mika has asked that before, when it was just silent letters on a screen. But out loud, the question falls on her ears like every well-meaning inquiry she’s ever had to scramble to find an acceptable answer for. The strain begins to cinch tight around her again like coarse ropes across barely-healed skin, ready to compel her to replace the truth with something safer. Her arms and legs tied, she begins to freeze, railing against herself for tainting the softness, the safety of this place.

"Beth." Mika says again, softer but more urgent.

In the gap between thoughts created by hearing her name, Beth seizes the chance to redirect them to the present. She clings to the welling in the corners of her eyes, the warmth of the sun caressing her back. The leaves of trees whisper outside the third-floor window in a mild breeze. The brightness spills over the sill and across Mika’s asymmetrical, half-craggy face and lights up tufts of her short hair as she steps closer. The couch dips as Mika sits down next to her, tilting Beth toward her.

Without meeting her eyes, Mika lifts a hesitant hand that hovers in the air between them, uncertain yet reaching. Her gentle palm falls onto Beth's forearm as softly as a floating leaf. The fingers curl around Beth’s arm just below the wrist, firm but not tight. Comforting.

The softness surrounding Beth seeps back into her, saturating her. As the memory fades like a ripple into water, the tension slackens. But it leaves her shaky, with traces of a familiar ache in her neck muscles, one that goes deeper than the simple stiffness from the couch. She sucks in a few unsteady breaths while Mika gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“Sorry,” Beth says in a small, awkward voice.

Mika tilts her head. “Why?”

“Uh, I didn’t mean to bring all – this mess, in here.” Beth rubs the back of her neck with her free hand. “It’s so... soft, and okay, and – I don’t wanna ruin it,” she says, trailing off into a mumble.

“Hey.” Mika moves her hand from Beth’s arm to her shoulder. When Beth looks at her, she’s looking right back. Mika's eyes dart down to the floor for a moment, but then return to hold Beth’s with deliberate steadiness. “It’s alright. It’s like this here because we wanted it to be safe to be messy. You’re not ruining anything.”

“... Oh.” She’s steadied by Mika’s fingers curling around her shoulder, by the tendrils of sunlight spreading across her head and back and arms. Mika’s voice is small but steady, and somehow it comes from the same throat that makes that huge pealing laugh. It’s so strange how they sound nothing alike. Until yesterday, Beth hadn’t heard her voice since the lutefisk incident. They’d mostly kept to text and pictures. It had seemed easier, the way it gave them both plenty time to think before they spoke through their different uncertainties. Beth was already planning her trip before they realized that they’d never actually called each other. By that point, it sounded like more fun to meet in person the old-fashioned way.

"I'll make you some tea." Mika abruptly stands and lets go of her. Beth is sad to lose the contact. She flits across the room toward the kitchen in her soft cotton pajama pants, complemented by yet another black graphic tee for yet another Scandinavian metal band Beth's never heard of. Or at least, she'd never heard of them before Mika, who has something to say about all of them, and now Beth knows more than she'll ever need to.

Mika moves in and out of view behind the half-wall that separates the little living room from the kitchen. The fronds of the fern on the counter make a green rustling as she brushes by them. It sends soft feathered shadows waving across the wall opposite the window. Beth hears the rush of water boiling out of sight, and soon sees steam rising from the mug that's being handed to her.

"It's hot," Mika says unnecessarily. She sits down next to her again, this time leaning into Beth with her arm. Beth’s glad for it.

"Have you ditched the bags and gone loose leaf?" Beth says, eyeing the fragments of bright green leaf free floating in her mug.

"It didn't come in a bag. It came from the window."

"The window?"

"It's basil tea. For the fear and pain. Five large fresh leaves in two hundred and fifty milliliters water. We grew it here."

Beth takes a cautious sip. It's surprisingly sweet, and the savory smell of the steam rising from it curls into her sinuses. The aching in her head and neck begin to relax. It's unfamiliar, but it feels like home should, just like everything else here.

"Thanks," Beth says. On an impulse of craving closeness, she leans her head onto Mika's shoulder with a sigh. The sensation of contact deepens as Mika leans against her, too.

Beth holds the cup close, fingers wrapping around its warmth. She takes another sip and gets a bit of leaf stuck in her teeth. The way she scrunches up her face trying to dislodge it pulls a tiny laugh out of Mika.

“You don’t have to be okay here,” Mika whispers. “You can just be. That’s what we do.”

Beth finds her eyes wet again, but she smiles while she sets her mug down and wipes them away. “Kinda already wish I could stay here,” she says with a chuckle.

“... That’s probably not impossible.”

“Really?” Beth asks wryly. “Not even twenty-four hours, and you’d already be willing to put up with me?”

“Twenty-four hours and twenty-seven months.”

Beth melts a little even while waving the idea aside. “I wasn’t serious.”

“I know, but... weren’t you looking at the school here?”

“I mean, yeah, but... really, my mom just thought I deserved a break to get away for a little while. She’d saved up a bit, and I didn’t want to make it a big deal or anything, but she really wanted me to. She knew I wanted to come see you. Checking out the school was mostly an excuse. I know it’s a great place, but... I don’t really think it’ll help with what I wanna do.”

“What do you want to do?”

Beth sighs and leans back, looking at the ceiling. Mika follows her so that they’re still shoulder to shoulder, and pulls her feet up to tuck them in cross-legged.

She flounders for a moment, trying to find where to begin. She hasn’t told anyone this yet.

“This Leda crap has been kind of awful, right? It’s screwed so many of us up. But there’s only, what, a few hundred of us? And that’s not the only reason things get messed up.” She swallows. Her eyes trace irregularities in the ceiling: a knot in an exposed wooden beam here, a sealed and repainted crack there. “Kids like me are a dime a dozen. There’s so many people out there going through hell, just because they got stuck with people who are hurting so much that they hurt other people. And then they go on and hurt more people. It’s a cycle that’s really fucking hard to break.”

Breaths that have become harsh force her to pause and let them lengthen again. A touch on her knee draws her eyes down to a hand resting on it palm up, offering. Beth takes it. Mika squeezes her fingers in reassurance.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a cop like my dad, did you know that?” Mika, eyes wide, shakes her head. “Yeah. That was always my plan. I used to think he was so brave. Wanted to be just like him.” She shudders. Mika grips her hand, steady. “Even if I could do it better than he did, the system is still full of people like him. It’s broken. I couldn’t – I can’t end up like that. I can’t keep being a part of this shit. I want to actually help people.

“I never thought about it before I met you, but the people you brought in to do therapy programs and all for CYGNet? They’re amazing. The stuff I’ve gotten from them has helped me so much. And I don’t know what I’d do without my regular therapist. These people really help people like me. Like all of us. Those are the kind of people I wanna be like.”

Beth’s voice drops and becomes small and secretive, but firm. “I’ve been looking at the social work programs at home. There’s some really good ones at the uni near where mom and I live now. And that’s the city where I grew up. I know how things work there. I know it won’t be easy, but. I could really... do stuff.”

Silence stretches. Beth looks at Mika, only to be completely thrown off by an expression she can’t make heads or tails of. “What?”

Mika’s face is blank yet soft, only barely hinting at her thoughts in the faintest crinkling of her eyes. It’s funny, how quiet her face is most of the time. Beth never would have guessed, going off her online impressions of her. Mika’s so expressive and eloquent with her written words. In person, she is much more subtle. But even after only a day spent around her, Beth is already starting to see how her movements speak volumes in a language of their own. The flickering of her hands flares to life with excitement. The casual shake of her head tosses her hair out of her eyes even when it’s not in the way, like she’s clearing the slate of her mind. And much like Beth these days, she goes very still and tense when she’s getting uncomfortable or overwhelmed, the way she did after a particularly loud whistle at the train station. It shows in her shoulders. They’re soft now though, and she just watches Beth and squeezes her hand once more.

“You’re really amazing, you know,” Mika says.

“Wh- huh?”

“Well.” She looks away and turns their hands over, but doesn’t let go. “After the awful things you’ve been through – nnnh! Don’t pretend,” she says, looking back sharply as Beth begins to protest that she didn’t have it that bad. Mika knows her so well. Beth can’t help but laugh a little. “After all that, you just want to help people. All I ever want to do is get away from them, most of the time.”

Beth quirks a brow at her with a bemused grin. “Really? Because setting up and running an organization that provides mental health resources and extremely important information to a few hundred people is a really shit way to not help people.”

“I never talk to most of them! And CYGNet only has one hundred and thirteen members, not hundreds.”

Beth rolls her eyes with an exaggerated motion. “Yeah, so, you’ve somehow convinced, what, a whole freaking third of a huge group of scared strangers to trust you?”

“A lot of that was Niki and the press team, she’s way better at talking to people th–”

“And you’ve been careful enough and clever enough to keep them and all the information you got from DYAD safe and secure? I can’t even imagine the organization and, and cyber-security and whatever the hell else you put into all this. That you still put in. And look what you’ve done. You’re helping so many people. You found something only you could do, and do it really damn well.”

Mika looks down into her lap, half her face flushed. The raised ridges and swirls of the scarred side are pink, but not as dark. Her shoulders curl in a little, but she doesn’t pull her hand away from Beth’s. If anything, she holds on a little tighter.

“You don’t have to like talking to people to help them. You don’t have to be someone you’re not,” Beth says gently, then pauses as a new thought occurs to her. “Why did you talk to me?”

Mika gives a tiny shrug, eyes still downcast. “You reached out to me. Most people are scared, or suspicious, or hard to talk to, but you were just... honest. You told me exactly what you needed, even if that meant sharing your painful secrets with a stranger. I...” She trails off, looking toward the closed door of Niki’s bedroom. She blinks slowly.

“It reminded me of something Niki said a long time ago. When we first met. We didn’t trust each other at first. But when things got bad, we needed to, and she just... We’d only known each other for a day. She told me a true story that people had called her crazy for, and trusted me to believe her. And when I told her about... my Asperger’s, about being autistic, she just told me something about herself, too, another thing that a lot of people get cruel about when they know. This was back before she came out, too. She was hardly out to herself, then, really. But she told me anyway. ‘Secret for a secret,’ she said.”

“She’s really special to you.” It’s not a question. How could it be, with the sheer softness of love rounding out every syllable and making Mika melt into the couch and into Beth’s shoulder.

“She’s... yes. She’s my family.” Mika looks out the window, and the bright light dances over her nose. “I don’t remember ever having one.”

Beth slings an arm around Mika’s shoulders and smiles as she curls closer into Beth’s side. “Looks like you’re part of a pretty big one, now,” she says, waving a hand at the dozens of photos on the walls circling them.

“I guess so.”

“No need to guess. The evidence is right there. And I’m right here.”

Mika turns those huge eyes on her again. She’s done that multiple times now, even though Beth knows she rarely looks people in the eye. Eye contact is too much, most of the time. She describes it as too intense, too distracting, too intimate. Meeting those eyes – so like Beth’s own, but filled with such a different kind of light – Beth thinks she understands a glimmer of it. If every eye she met were as overwhelmingly expressive as Mika’s, Beth probably wouldn’t meet them all either. It keeps taking her by surprise, coming across their eloquence in an otherwise quiet face. Caught by that gaze, every emotion that lives in it touches Beth. Right now, it’s soft with adoration but shaded with a gradient of doubt. The width and depth of Mika’s eyes reveal a clear view of a vulnerable, aching, healing heart that spent eleven years starving for the love it needs and still hasn’t forgotten the famine.

It might be breaking Beth’s heart. No wonder Niki is always showering her with hugs and kind words and gentle hands on rounded shoulders. Maybe one of these days, Mika will have spent long enough finally getting to soak up all that affection that she won’t look at Beth like this when she says the simple truth.

“Hey. Here I am. Really.” Beth’s voice is a little choked up. She pulls Mika into a proper hug with both arms. Mika squeaks in surprise at being squeezed so emphatically, but returns it all the same. God, but she gives the best hugs of anyone Beth’s ever met. All contact and even, firm pressure and steadiness. “It’s so damn good to see you. I can’t believe you’re...” real, Beth thinks but doesn’t say. I can’t believe I didn’t imagine you. I can’t believe you’re just as kind as your words. I can’t believe how good it feels to be around you. “I can’t believe I’m really here.”

Mika doesn’t say anything. For a moment, one of her hands leaves Beth’s back to fiddle with something, then comes back to give her a little squeeze that Beth returns.

Beth’s phone buzzes a notification behind her on the little glass-top table next to the couch. The table’s wooden base is a round blob carved into the shape of a very fluffy and very ugly sheep with curly horns. Beth’s arms loosen from their embrace as she turns to look at it, bemused. No one but Mika really messages her except for her mom. But if it’s morning here, it’s about time for bed at home. She checks it, just to be sure she’s okay.

But it’s not from her mom.

Mika reaches out to gently grasp her forearm again as Beth shoots her a quizzical look and opens the message.

3mika: I'm glad you're here.

Beth's heart quails.

To think, that her darker days might have kept her from ever being in this moment. Beth might never have gotten to this point, hurt but healing and here. Here, she's seven time zones and an ocean away from the cycle of pain she grew up in, barely aware she needed to escape. She might well feel safer right here in this crossroads of time and place than she has at any other in her entire life. It's a realization that's as humbling as it is nourishing.

Already, the distance this journey has taken her has given her so much perspective. She wasn’t sure, before, whether the work she’s been considering was just a response to what she’s been through – or just a way for the cycle to keep her within its spiral. But she’s seen what Mika can do, what Beth could do one day, if she keeps on.

It won’t be easy. She’ll go back, and deep-seated memories will try to drag her back into small dark places. But being here, even for only a few hours, has already changed her. She can change, and she can grow, and she is already tapping into new strengths that her past has yet to reckon with. She is here, right now, in spite of all of it. And today is not a dark day.

“Me too, Mika. I’m glad to be here, too.” Beth’s tongue stumbles over the name, because she’s never said it out loud before, only read it on a screen.

Surprise sends Mika’s eyebrows up and her eyes wide again, like she’s never heard it before, either. Maybe she hasn’t. She tilts her head again like a question, touching her ear and looking at Beth.

Beth grins. “Mika.” A smile blooms on that curious face, lighting it up. She’s the one who pulls Beth into a hug this time, and it’s both fierce and soft. When she lets go, she leans into Beth’s side again and they stay like that, arms over shoulders and comfortably curled up together, soaking in the warmth of each other’s presence like leaves drink in light. The simple sweetness and companionship of it soothes Beth’s heart, seeking its way into the aching crevices. It’s an odd feeling, both seeping inward and flowing outward, trickling all the way through her until it warms her cold toes in a way that feels both new and strangely familiar.

A long, sleepy yawn announces that Niki’s awake now, too. Soon, she comes out of her room stretching her arms over her head. Mika reaches a hand out toward her to wave in greeting, though she leaves the other arm draped over Beth’s shoulders. Niki smiles at them. That kind smile, too, adds to the warmth washing through Beth. Her feet practically itch with it, and with a growing sensation of déja vu. She fidgets her toes against the floor as Niki walks over to brush Mika’s outstretched hand like a touchstone.

“How'd you sleep? Isn’t that couch the comfiest?” she says to Beth.

“Well, I’ve got a crick in my neck, but I still slept better than I have in years.”

Niki turns her sunny smile on Beth. “Good to hear it. Weird, though, I nap there all the time and my neck’s always fine. Huh. Anyway, I think I might make waffles. You two want some breakfast?”

Mika nods, but doesn’t let go of Beth yet. Beth is lost in thought, trying to remember what that light, floating feeling in her feet reminds her of.

“Sweet.” Niki ambles toward the kitchen and bends down with pursed lips to peer at the fern perched on the counter. “Hmm. You still look a little pale. Let’s get you some more sun.” She brings the plant over to the living room and is fussing over settling it on the sheep table when it clicks for Beth. A physical memory washes over her, for once welcome. She lets it fill her, refreshing like a deep breath of cold morning air her lungs are suddenly hungry for. She flexes her calves and ankles, her legs remembering the joy and freedom of stride and strike. Her bones are finally recalling how they once carried her with ease, even while they're adjusting to the new weight of who she's become. Fully alive again for at least this moment, her soles are practically prickling with the desire to eat up ground.

“How about you, Beth? Do you like waffles?” Niki asks, fluffing the fern’s crinkly green leaves. Mika squeezes her shoulder.

Beth grins and plants steady feet on the blue rug in front of the couch. “Save a few for me? I think I might actually go for a run first.”

[magic-is-something-we-create]

Happy WBW from @norahammen! I'm very curious about this trio of monarchs so I'm gonna ask about that. What makes them special in the eyes of the people? How have they kept control for so long? Why is only one ruling the government? Tell me all!

hi!!! happy WBW, @norahammen, and thank you for the ask!!!

i warned on my profile that i go all out, right? either way, sorry this is so long a;sldfkja;sldfkj

So, the Eternal Three are special, for the most part, because all three of them are immortal! However, one of them, Tieling Evergreen, is also special because way back when he was still mortal and A Literal Child, he was Chosen by the temple he was born in to stop this destruction of magic they had predicted. And because Prophecy and the temple he belonged to are major facets of the religion of the area, he’s considered a major holy figure.

And I realize now that the way I phrased it in my WBW profile was a little misleading, but each of the Eternal Three rule their own government/people! Tieling Evergreen is the one, in particular, who has a revolution that’s ready to yeet him out of the picture, but the other two (Veratrum K’Ron and Arthur Coldstone) are pretty well-liked among their people, and also much better at taking criticism than Tieling. Each of them has a different reason/strategy for staying in power for so long, too!

Tieling, for one, has relied heavily on his religious status, sweet talking, and damage reduction skills for most of his reign. This isn’t the first time he’s had a rebellion amongst his people! This time is just the worst, because it’s happening right when he needs to pull things together to actually stop magic from being destroyed. Also, there’s, like, twenty other really bad things going on for him, right now, and he’s overwhelmed. I’ll include the details under a readmore, cause I actually have a slide from my reintro that’s relevant for this a;lskdfj

Veratrum K’Ron, however, is the queen of a very different culture (i.e. chaotic but in a different way), one that values parental bonds and physical strength more than Tieling’s court does. She was immortalized after having a kid, so she has a line of direct descendants, which helps her credibility. She’s also dedicated a lot of her immortal life to learning all she can, with a special focus on battle, which she does so that she can protect her people single-handedly.

And Arthur never wanted to be 1) immortal or 2) a king. He’s the most down-to-earth of the three -- where Tieling sees himself as the Only One Who Can Save The World, and Vera sees herself as a demigoddess powerhouse, Arthur just sees himself as a dude who was unlucky enough to be caught up in the mess of religious Ehlven drama that birthed them. His court is famously casual in comparison to pretty much every other court in the world, and he’s generally pretty humble, kind, and fatherly to whoever crosses his path. He’s also still really traumatized by the whole immortal thing and how it happened.

The important difference in their levels of power, really, is that even if Vera and Arthur weren’t immortal and holy-adjacent, they would both still be loved and respected by their people. Tieling, on the other hand, thinks he’s nothing without those aspects of himself.

--

oh god that got really long

TL;DR: These three are REALLY important in religious and historical contexts for the world, especially Tieling. They have really different ruling styles between the three of them, and Tieling’s has a tendency to piss of his people, despite his religious significance, to the point of them doubting said significance. And for Firebreathers, specifically, we focus on Tieling’s government for the most part!

the relevant slides from my reintro are below the cut, and they feature art of the Three, as well as a little bit about each of them, and also all the things going wrong in tielings life right now ;sladkfj;alfdkj

[id:

The slide is titled "tell me more about these 'Eternal Three'...". Directly to the left, in a very light font, is text that reads "repost my art and you'll die by my hands i swear to god. hasn't happened yet but this is insurance.". Below the title, there is a note that says "i'll get more detailed in a proper intro down the line, but for now:". 

The middle stretch of the slide has three portraits aligned in a row, each labeled with the subject's name, title, and a small caption of important information.

The image on the left is a square portrait of a white human man in his late forties, with blond hair and beard that is starting to go grey. His eyes are a deep brown, and his nose appears to have been broken and healed incorrectly. He wears a simple wooden circlet on his head and a blue cape. There is a cobbled stone wall behind him, with a window that looks out onto the night sky. This portrait is labelled "King of the Mae Humans" and the caption reads "This is Arthur Coldstone. What you should know: 1) he didn't want to be immortal. 2) actually a p chill dude, would die for his people but cant anymore. 3) wasn't gonna be king but then the king died and he was suddenly immortal and he's still mad about it". 

The middle image is slightly taller than the other two, and features an androgynous man with long, vaguely round ears that stick out past his shoulders. His hair is a dark teal that fades to a bright cyan and then to a cool grey at the tips. He is wearing a maroon robe with a pale magenta collar, a translucent golden capelet, and an ornate metal crown with a yellow jewel embedded into the center. His expression is carefully neutral, with an air of condescension. He is standing in front of a large window of blue stained glass, which is embedded into a wall that looks to be built into the side of a tree. This portrait is labelled "King of the Mae Ehlves" and the caption reads: "This is Tieling Evergreen. What you should know: 1) he's technically the villain. 2) rolled a nat 20 to persuade the coddesses to keep magic around until he could fulfill their requests. 3) he was Chosen at, like, 13 and it really fucked him up. still a Bastard tho."

The portrait on the right is a square of the same size as the portrait on the left, and it features a brown-skinned woman in her early fifties. Her ears are shaped like cresting waves, and stick out from her head. She has freckles on her exposed shoulders, on the tips of her ears, and a few on her cheekbones. Her hair is a deep, velvety purple with streaks of grey. She wears an ornate crown of woven vines and wood that has streaks of blue along the bark. Leaves, feathers, and large claws stick out from the crown to frame a large red jewel at the center. A similar, smaller jewel hangs from her necklace, strung with teeth and claws. She stands in a swampland, with vines hanging from branches behind her. This portrait is titled "Queen of the Rill Ehlves" and the caption reads: "This is Veratrum K'Ron. What you shuold know: 1) she uses immortality to learn as much as possible about everything. 2) has a direct line of descendents because she had a kid before all this. 3) duels ppl before they're allowed an audience to keep shit interesting."

/End slide one.

/Start slide two.

The slide is titled "ok, cool, so what's happening??" with two question marks. The subtitle is in a dark magenta font, and reads "big picture? a lot of stuff at once, really." The body of the text reads: "the Goddesses asked Tieling to prove that magic could be controlled, that people would stop getting hurt. He had been told all his life that his task would be to unite the Ehlves, so that's how he's trying to go about fulfilling their request. Things have gone downhill about 8 years before the due date, though…" and what follows is a bulletted list, with accompanying text boxes.

The list reads: "1) the Ehlves in Deltierin have broken away from his control, so he needs to get them back." The accompanying box reads: "his solution: war." "2) Veratrum's heir, who's required to have a high seat in his council in order to keep her as an ally, has gotten on the bad side of Vera herself. 2a) also, she disowned and banished her OWN heirs." The accompanying box reads: "his solution: do his best to keep from pissing Vera AND her heir off when they're both v important in these last few years of prep." "3) the Ehlves in Emarye don't have any central government anymore, so he has to convince all of them to unite somehow." The accompanying box reads: "his solution: beg the current governments over there to enter a compact with him."

The fourth bullet is circled in red and labelled "this is the big one". The bullet reads: "someone has started a fucking rebellion among the people he already rules" and the accompanying box reads: "his solution: quell the insurgents ASAP".

The fifth bullet is back to the usual format, and overshadowed by the circle above it. It reads: "and, the one that hurts most for him right now: Arthur stopped talking to him for valid reasons." The accompanying box reads: "his solution: cry".

The top right of the slide is on a slightly darker shade than the rest of the slide, to draw attention to it. The text within reads: "too long, didnt read: Tieling's starting a war, the people are angry about it, there's a rebellion ramping up. Almost every ally he had has abandoned him in the last five years (approximately), and most of them are now helping the rebels.

/end slide two

/end id]

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

hey ralph! i was wondering if we could talk about charities. i totally agree with you that there's a lot of charities that revolve around helping individuals (or blaming them, in your words) while ignoring the structural problems that put them in that situation in the first place. so my honest question is: how is in your opinion the best way for a charity organization to approach those issues with social responsability? since they don't really have the power to actually fix everything. +++

(2) and do you have any examples of charities that have this philosophy vs charities that are harmful? also, what do you think we as individuals can do to help fixing some of this issues? both us middle class people or millionaires like the boys. because while i do agree with the things you said on the subject, i always thought that even if i unfortunately cant solve anything by donating at least i might make someone's life a little bit better or easier; i believe that's what the boys +++

(3) and especially harry view charities. (the obvious difference is they have way more power in that matter than i could ever have). sorry if this is long or doesn't make a lot of sense, i just think about it a lot because i know celebrities and rich people in general should be doing so much more, but i'm not really sure how, and i really like reading your opinions. also english is not my first language so forgive me if i may have used some inadequate words or expressions +++

(4) - i know you're very particular about that. thank you for always questioning everything; while i may disagree with a lot of things it's so important to have a voice like yours in this fandom and i hope you know that there are people who value that, even though your inbox doesn't always show it. have a great day

************

Thanks for these asks anon - they’re really interesting.  And thank you for your love.  I don’t take ridiculous asks as indicative of much and I do take interesting one’s as a sign people are engaged with my blog.

I think I start from a slightly different premise from you.  In general, I don’t think rich people should be doing more.  Rich people tend to be rich because of the harm they are doing to the world and one of the functions of charitable work is to obscure this reality (this is why google camp has me talking about the guillotine).  

In Harry’s case (and other 1D members and big touring musicians in general), a huge part of their wealth comes from the production of merch in wildly exploitative and damaging ways.  The supply chain involved in producing merch involves huge environmental damage, horrific working conditions (including substantial levels of violence and sexual violence), poverty wages and direct attacks on union organising when people try and improve their wages and conditions. There’s no way Harry (or anyone else in his position) could undo the damage done in the production that makes him wealthy, by giving a fraction of that wealth away. 

(I know there are people who will immediately widen out this specific point. My worldview is that the people who are responsible for the harm done by production are those who control it (even indirectly through subcontracting) and who collect the profit.  Consumers, and other workers in the production process, do not control production or benefit from it and pretending that individuals who buy things are responsible for the damage caused in their production is an ideological project to hide who actually has power and wealth). 

There’s another distinction I’d like to make - I think that some charities that present themselves as helping individuals also blame them for their position use rhetoric (or practices) that blame them for being in that situation, but not all do.  One of the things that really struck me about the donations Harry chose to support on tour was that as soon as he hit America the rhetoric got much more right-wing and blaming individuals.  Up till America a lot of the charities were like ‘people don’t have this thing - we provide it’.  When you got to America the charities all described themselves as not just providing things for people, but improving them (for example rather than just giving people who are hungry food, they’ll talk about encourage people to make better choices.  Even the LGBTQ charity he supported talked of pathways to independence).  That idea that working-class people, poor people, people without resoruces, disenfranchised people, need to be changed - that’s what I object to and think is wildly reactionary and harmful.  

To talk in slightly more positive terms - I actually think if you have resources and you’re figuring out how to help ‘Let’s make someone happy today’ is a good starting point. Give money to homeless people, pay into people’s gofundme accounts, buy sick and disabled kids playstations. If the problem is that people’s needs aren’t being met, then meet those needs, don’t suggest that people need to be changed so they can get their needs met.  If you want to be a little bit systematic than giving coins to people you see on the street - then look for charities that are unconditional in what they do, rather than those that try and draw distinctions between the deserving and undeserving poor (Harry promoted some sort of running for the homeless charity that was the absolute opposite of this - to the extent that just thinkign about it’s existence makes me apoplectic with rage).  

(Incidentally, there is research to suggest that when people’s needs are met in an unconditional way it’s much easier to make changes they want to make in their own lives. That programmes that think that homeless people need to be transformed are nowhere near as transformative as programmes that give homeless people a house.  But for me that’s incidental - the reasons I’ve discussed in the paragraphs above are more important.)

You mentioned thinking about Harry saw charity.  I don’t think we can tell - particularly not in the terms that I’m talking about. He’s supported a range of charities, including those that operate on a hugely controlling model.  I agree that he probably wants to help and I suspect his ideas about what that mean would seem incoherent and wrong to me.  It’s notable that a programme that kept services from homeless people unless they went for a run didn’t set off any red flags for him. 

To give a more personal answer - I tend to see money as a form of solidarity.  I don’t tend to give to super large organisations, because the chances that they’ll do things I disagree with increases exponentially. There are organisations that combine meeting people’s needs with advocacy that I think are really worth supporting.  For example in NZ welfare advocacy organisations help ensure people get their entitlements and help in really important ways.  But they then learned a lot about what is wrong with the system and can use that knowledge to advocate for change.  Organisations that meet refugee and migrants needs and advocate on their behalf were vital to exposing the Windrush scandal here in the UK.  Finding these sorts of organisations

I also think it’s important to look beyond charities (charitable status can be very limiting) and giving money to those who need it to sustain their struggles. Give money to workers who are on strike.  Contribute to the legal costs of people who are being targetted because they’re fighting for a better world. (There’s an important history of politically aware  entertainers doing both these things - although of course the mass contributions of people with much less money have always been more important). 

But the bigger question, the one I think you’re ultimately asking is how can I change the world? Your money (even if you’re comfortably middle class) is not the most important thing you can contribute.  The most important thing you can do is join together with other people around you and collectively try and .  Join a union if you’re an employee, get together with other renters if you’re a renting, fight to change a law that fucks you over.  Widen your solidarity to people who are facing different struggles, but have similar enemies.  We can have a better world - people have fought and won in the past and will in the future - and they’ve done it by working together. 

[impivus]

very rushed very shit intro comin @ you all but here goes nothing ! i’m felix from the gmt tmz, i use he / him pronouns, and im gonna power nap any minute now because one thing you should know about me is that i’m eternally on the verge of passing out from minimum exertions during the day. this is my pain in the ass eunsu: not even going to sugar coat it - he’s the human personification of a headache dumpster fire all in one beefy package and i really don’t even blame your character if they just . ignore his presence because, me too !

under the cut there’s some information about him if you want to get to know more about him regardless. smash that mf heart if you want to plot.. and i will get to you ? sometime ? its an ambiguous promise but i keep them, discord is also an option so just ask if you’d prefer to plot on there. eun’s about is here but no plots as of yet because life is hard and We Cant all Have Everything 

aka im lazy 

* ☾ ✧ * º ━━ is that KIM JONGIN walking about ? nope ! that’s just EUN SU CHO. & i’ve been told that they work as a INFORMATION BROKER ! apparently, they are TWENTY FIVE ( 204 )  years old .  some people say they are a CISMALE, DEMON ! HE is very CULTIVATED & INTUATIVE but also DECIETFUL &  MENACING. i wonder if they are just as odd as the rest of us .  ⇢  SYNOPSIS. MBTI TYPE  /  entp, the debater ZODIAC SIGN  /  scorpio   ENNEAGRAM TYPE  /  7w8 KINSEY SCALE  /  3 MORAL ALIGNMENT /  chaotic evil / neutral HOGWARTS HOUSE / slytherin ⇢ AESTHETICS. 

goosebumps raised and feelings of growing dread, the dark corner of a room where light doesn’t reach, silver pocket - watches with dead batteries, the scratch of a record player needle, flares in the sky, bad ideas coming to life, half-assed clapping when it’s required, figures dancing within the shadows & a smile you shouldn’t trust . 

⇢ OVERVIEW

literally anybody: when are you free?  eun su: im forever imprisoned in my own personal hell so i am never truly "free" but i don't really have plans all next week except for monday

this is eun su, and will y’all believe me if i say he used to be a good egg before he turned into the rotten egg i’m presentin y’all with today ??  i kid u not.. bs free zone. he did once ..  have a hort  he was born to a cult of witches, his twin brother absorbing all the magic that was meant to be equally distributed between them in his mother’s womb, which pretty much left eunsu as the black sheep of the family. said cult had been living on a small, near enough desolated island for literal decades, entertaining themselves with magic, seeking out knowledge, observing the unassuming populace, and toying with other supernatural creatures who dared cross their paths. unfortunately for eunsu’s family, tragedy struck when one of his aunt’s tried to over throw the high priestess ( his mother ) in their coven. unyielding in her position and untouchable to the magic she was exposed to, her sister went about other ways to break the woman’s spirits, dabbling in black magic predominantly to achieve her goals. eunsu’s brother was, thus, cursed before he was even born with an incurable heart defect that would see him dead before he reached double figures. eunsu’s mother was broken not mourned over how much he missed out as on a child: but she mourned for the fact that he was the only child that harboured any magic in their veins, the only child that could’ve carried on their lineage.   queue entrance of eunsu and his Whats the Worst that Could Happen Attitude. being young and naive, thought he could’ve been able to solve it by himself, solve the issues and earn his mother’s lacking affections. eun had heard about dark vessels that could miraculously grant wishes through summonings. though he didn’t have magic in his veins he had a fire in his heart, and after all, demons cared not for who or what they fed from: so long as they appeased their hunger.  all it wanted in return was a good, pure soul, and that’s what the demon stole from him before it mended his twin brother’s heart, giving the boy a new lease of life that wasn’t intended for him from the start. pity that eunsu died before he got to the age of twenty, following a quick and hungry fever that overtook his frail body and too soon turned deadly. there was no surprise that, come judgement day, he was turned away at the gates of heaven, in exchange for becoming one of lucifer’s own.

as a result of being eternally cursed with immorality and a tainted soul, he's lived some hundred-odd years and is coping by making the current populace in jeonseoul suffer along with finding purpose in digging out the secrets of his past life, mayhaps trying to find the demon who cursed him.... which could definitely be a wc.. and strengthening his abilities as a demon.

his personality is a bit insufferable; eunsu keeps himself distant and cryptic, because he likes it that way. he's a real weirdo ( if u have ever watched hxh he’s hisoka.. THAT weird )  that's hard to forget: completely mischievous, dramatic, and malicious to boot. some days he's waxing poetic about the futility of having a sense of justice and the next he's using his demonic powers to make some innocent tourist think they're hallucinating as they attempt to walk into a steady flow of traffic. 

ultimately life's a game to him and bih.. he’s here to have fun ! he's outlived his actual family and friends ( well, aside from his brother who he barely remembers, prolly be a wc if anyone’s interested ) and he's not looking to get attached to anyone. it would be great to Die because it’s his forever Mood but he also gets furious if anyone tries to actually expel him for real - so he'll simply prod at the world and its people until he gets the reactions he wants.

fair warning: it is a pain to genuinely care about eunsu and not many people will wanna do it. he comes and goes into people's lives as he pleases, stops reaching out once he's bored and only ever grazes the surface of a relationship based on its worth or his curiosities, innocent ppl, cute ppl, etc are just gonna be eaten up by him then dropped. 

the people who will be closest to him are doubtlessly other demons ig ? but he also hates y’all too so.. don’t get too friendly like he’s not here to make friends he’s here to be Jeonseoul’s next top Demon. also since he died sumn like 200 years ago it’s possible some wizards / familiars knew of him and his coven, it’d be super interesting for someone to have known cute human eunsu in exchange for chaotic bastard demon eunsu 

⇢ MISCELLANEOUS

since he’s a young demon, his horns are small and his wings barely span about two inches above his shoulder bones, he got itty bitty bat wings lbr he’s kinda pissed abt it. there’s tattoos over his scars from clashing with other demons / hunters / angels, but his devil’s mark lining the back of his neck, performed by first demon who took his soul, has never faded away. 

he also works as an info broker, which ties in with the fact that he’s a contractual demon ! it's more of a hobby than a job, something he does for kicks and to restock his gambling money and alcohol money, but he offers a helping hand to solo clientele for private cases if need be, just remember to bring your negotiation skills because his manipulation skills are a1.

he's well-versed in witchcraft even if he can’t actually possess the abilities that actual witches can. while hardly the mentoring type, he could be convinced to equip people with his knowledge of latin, spells or dark magic they want if he's interested enough. then again he might decide to screw them over for kicks so ask him for favours with caution.

for someone who carries a ton of spite and secrets, he passes as an easygoing, casual literature major on the daily to disguise his true intentions. find him at the university pretending to be a student and failing miserably at it like edward’s thousand year old ass in twilight

he cheats at the casino with his demonic powers but does it infrequently enough to pass it as luck. play games with him at your own risk. casinos are one of his favourite places but he can really be found anywhere with ease but some other places he frequents are: beaches, libraries, museums, bars, etc !

he'll get on people's nerves, but getting him to care to the degree of hate is another story. living this long has numbed him; people don't surprise him anymore and he doesn't care to spend time thinking about others. the secret to getting him to turn deathly serious is as simple as telling him you can tell that he was once a good person - because the cheesy truth is he was. he just convinces himself that he's given up trying to remember his human life and finds it easier to live like he’s dead.. yknow which he is.

romance makes him queasy, he's a spiteful old bastard and the concept of sweet love rubs him 100% fictional. there's someone he fancied before he was cursed but i'll save you the story: that's a distant dream now.

he might quote romantic works or put some pretty words together but he's fake as Fuck. if he notices someone innocent and unsuspecting crushing on him they are in so much trouble. he'll kiss their hand then twirl them right off a cliff. corruption kink central right here laid ease

as of rn he’s trying to master how to teleport and shadow control but he really is like on level one and he’s got to get up to level 50 to achieve even a fifth of what these other demons can do 

edit: i totally forgot to include eunsu’s ‘demonic’ title after he was banished to the perils of hell. it’s ironically just saint, and he goes around using that bc it’s blasphemous and a big ole middle finger to god himself. nobody will know his real name, but if there’s an off chance that they do, that’s a massive threat to eunsu and he’ll get his Snipers on Scene

tl;dr: 

[volleydorkscentral]

Who’s your 1 favorite in each and every team? and what’s Your MOST Favorite team?

Oh gosh. This is a hard one to answer for me because…. they’re all my children. Oof.

Okay, I’m gonna try, though! Here we go~ buckleup buckaroos cause this will be long! (tl;dr at the bottom)

I guess I’ll just… start with the easier question- favorite team. Karasuno - they’re the main team, yes, but they’re also the most developed characters. I LOVE Nekoma and Datekou and Seijoh and Fukurodani… but I’m a trashhumanbeing for character development and Karasuno just has the most of that.

Now Favorites on each team? That’s gonna put me through an emotional ringer - bleh! ⊙︿⊙

 First up, Karasuno.

That’s so hard. I love them all - even the second years who don’t have a bunch of page/screen time. Each of them have their own reason for my love.

Tsukki is definitely high on the list because of his character arc from the week long training camp to the match between Shiritorizawa. Cause in the beginning we all KNEW he was there on the team for a reason even though he seemed to not like the game?? And we found out that he just didn’t want to get hurt. He saw his brother LIE to him and break down when he was exposed (rather shamefully, i suppose) to have been lying. 

And you could see in their faces how much it hurt them both. Tsukki ADORED his brother… he looked up to him. Joined volleyball because of that… and then it was… sort of ripped from him.

BUT THEN HE MET HIS OWL DAD AND CAT DAD. And he learned to love the game again at the Inter-High Finals. Now he’s a very passionate and dedicated player (even if he doesn’t express it outwardly like the others) you can see it in the way he plays.

ON THE OTHER HAND. There’s all the others. BUT…. the only other person that comes close to Tsukki in my favorites list is Hinata.

I mean he’s the main character for a reason. He’s a passionate, talented, growing individual and he’s already had so much development. He’s more mature than he was in chapter one. He’s stronger, mentally. He’s developing crazy amazing skills. It took, like, six chapters for him to practice basic, head on, receiving with Suga and Kags for their 3x3 match. Then… for the five day training camp at Shiratorizawa he learned new skills with receiving, and he began practicing his Jump Serves (I think? I s2g i saw a panel somewhere but I can’t find it. I will someday) and he began THINKING CRITICALLY about the game. He even said himself, “I don’t usually pay attention to the court, just watch the ball.”

And now in NATIONALS he’s getting badass receives, he’s watching national level players and learning from them, and changing chapter to chapter.

BOTH of them are first years. Can… can y’all imagine… what they’re going to be like in their third years. CAN YOu GUyS SeE ThEM bEiNG SENpAIS??!!? ! UPPERCLASSMEN?!!!?! AH I”M HERE FOR THAT I CANT WAIT FoR THAT PLEASE GIVE US ThAT FURUdATE PLeASE!

So. All in all. It’s a hardcore toss-up between Hinata and Tsukki.

pffffff….. uhm…. but. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. By one iota … it would be Hinata. BUt Tsukki is lurking behind him being salty about it. ¬‿¬

Nekoma:

Kuroo. Hands down. Kuroo. He’s a GReAT captain. He’s a great friend. He supports Kenma (even when Kenma doesn’t seem to want support - when he just wants to be left alone to play games) and he made great friends with Yaku, even through their friendly feuding. He’s SMART and he’s TALENTED and he’s ….catty (as in witty). But, from when he came out and said sorry to Karasuno, he seems to be very quick to own up to his mistakes. I mean that wasn’t REALLY a mistake… but you could tell he felt bad. He just seems like he’s a super honest person who will always help his friends be better people. (cause that’s all he was trying to do with Tsukki he just didn’t understand then how much Tsukki resented Hinata).

Also his awful laugh adds a year onto my life every time I hear it.

Seijoh:

This one is a little harder because, while I have a deep respect for the team, I don’t really…. love them. They’re great - they’re strong - they’re funny and interesting. But I just have stronger feelings for the others.

But probably my favorite character is Iwaizumi. He’s a supportive best friend. He’s handsome. He’s strong. He’s a steady presence for the team and he’s also been shown to be good at controlling Mad Dog - chan. I thought it was hilarious the way he asserted his authority as a third year, not by yelling, or threatening, but just be being himself and being a general badass.

He is SO SUPPORTIVE of Oikawa (who is adorbs too) even when Oikawa has his moments of weakness. He tries to get him to take care of himself (i.e. “Don’t stay up late we have games tomorrow! Get good sleep!” ) and the arc where he kept trying to convince a frustrated Oikawa that he IS good at what he does and even went so far as to head butt him. I tackled my best friend to the floor when they wouldn’t listen to me for similar reasons hahaha. So I feel for him - and he just seems to be the best friend anyone could ask for.

Date Tech:

This one is hard because, while we do have lots of information about the characters, we still haven’t learned too much about them. Compared to some of the other teams, I mean.

It’s actually a toss up between Futakuchi and Koganegawa. They’re both pretty interesting people. Futakuchi I hope we hear more about as Karasuno has more matches against them, practice games too. He seems like he’s trying to grow into his role as captain even though he still has his immature goofy moments. But you can be a great captain and still be goofy (hint-Oikawa-hinthint). So I hope we see some good development with him.

Koganegawa, on the other hand, is a FIRST YEAR and he’s an absolute goofball. He’s a little seal in my head after they did their penalty for losing that practice match set against Karasuno.

He’s friendly and talented and he seems like he would be a great friend to have.

I don’t really have a favorite between them cause I don’t…. KNOW them enough. they’re both cute though.

Shout out to Aone, tho. From the manga info page on him: Current concern: When he’s riding the train, nobody wants to sit on either side of him.  Poor baby I’ll sit next to you!!!

Fukurodani:

BOKUTo. BOKUTO BOKUTO BOKUTO. All the way. Except for the …. twenty percent of my love that is dedicated to Akaashi. But Bokuto is my favorite owl son sweet precious baby who needs to be protected when he’s in his emo mode and set free to roam the volleyball fields of fun when he’s happy.

I’ve written several long posts about Bokuto… but mostly I think he’s just a hard working, honest, open, amazing individual and i want to give him the world. And I’m going to cry next year when we see the team and Bokuto isn’t with Akaashi …. or he’s in the STANDS and not playing and commenting on his team and just. Ugh. My darling owl.

Shiratorizawa:

Tendou. He’s my favorite - mostly because he’s had a rough time as a kid with other kids bullying him and he overcame that and he’s still such a happy, motivated, wonderful individual. He made friends with Ushijima (and calls him by his first name so casually? like how cute is that) and he is able to just talk to him even though so many people think Ushijima is hard to talk to. Tendou talks to him and doesn’t stop and i love that.

Other than Inarizaki that’s really it I guess. I don’t have strong enough feelings about any of the other teams to pick a favorite for any of them. The Miya Twins are a wild ride so far, though. I wonder if we’ll see more of them later? If someone can convince me otherwise about any of the teams please talk to me! I love character analysis and hearing people gush over their favorites.

Sorry that was so long!! I tend to ramble ….

Anyway - TL;DR - Karasuno is my favorite team; Hinata is favorite on Karasuno; Kuroo; Iwaizumi; Bokuto; Futakuchi/Koganegawa; Tendou; all other teams we know I don’t really have strong feelings for. But if you want to convince me of anyone else please talk to me :D

[captain-jinguji]

sooo i’m back again with another request (cause u and ur blog are just too awesome to not drop by) i’d like to request a slight nsfw scenario with heavens where them and their s/o doing the “do” and their s/o teases them by saying “i’m bored” or something like that! if you don’t feel comfortable with this scenario then it’s okay! thank you 💕💕💕

YES I HAVE WAITED ALL DAY TO TACKLE THIS REQUEST also come and drop by any time you want to sweety 💋💖also also i tried to keep it gender neutral but you might find some characters leaning more toward a female s/o since they're easier to write for me

WARNING: slight NSFW

HEAVENS reaction to a teasing s/o during sexy time ~

Eiichi:

Your hands were tangled in his hair and his lips were hot and wet against your neck. Clothed hips were grinding against each other and you could feel his bare chest brush against your naked form with every bit of movement. You cant deny how hot and needy he was making you feel but he knew the effects he had on your body already, could feel it with every arch of your back into his chest and god he was feeling just as good and " Eiichi, I'm bored". All his movements faltered and he pulled away from your neck to look into your eyes and if he didnt know any better, he thought you were serious, "yeah right... Your soaked underwear and trembling body beneath me is telling me otherwise, angel" you blushed at his words and mentally scolded yourself for believing you could trick him like this.

Kira:

You didn't know how you ended up in this position; your upper body being supported by just a desk and your ass hanging bare in the air for your man. Kira was taking in the sight of you and enjoying every long second that he teased you with his skilled fingers. He would never admit it, but having you bend over his desk like this, your ass in the air like the needy little thing you are, is literal heaven to him. Except that all of heaven came crushing down when your words rang in his ears, "is it ever gonna get interesting?" You meant to just tease him, make him take you faster, but instead he pulled completely away and looked away in shame,"I'm sorry it isn't to your liking" wait no thats not what you mean! Good luck convincing him to come back ;-; don't crush kira baby like that ever again plz.

Nagi:

The sight of nagi beneath you, your legs on either side of head as his mouth ate you out like the meal that he thinks you are was pure bliss. Your moans filled the room and you could tell by the strength and way his tongue was working on you that he got turned on even more by every moan you gave him. Oh what a shame it would be to crush his self esteem a little bit, "can't you do it any better than that?" His eyes shot open at your words and met yours. His lips detached from yours and turned into a smug grin, "say that again and i will leave squirming on the floor like the needy whore you are." And you knew he wasnt kidding. The next time his tongue entered you, you could already feel his mood has changed.

Eiji:

Sexy time with Eiji was always so sweet and sensual. You could feel all of his emotions in every thrust, every inch of him entering you. The kisses he left on your lips and shoulders had you pulling his hair and meeting his thrusts. Wet skin slapping against each other was all you could hear... A few more thrusts and you would reach your climax, but oh god just take me harder. "Any way you can speed this up a bit?" Your voice was needy, demanding, and though he knew you didnt mean it like that, it actually just made him feel so self conscious and a small blush crept on his cheeks. "I just... Okay." You regretted everything you said the minute you saw his sad eyes; he just wanted to show you his love with everything he got.

Yamato:

Your body was pushed up against the nearest wall, Yamato pushing himself greedily into you as your legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth devoured yours hungrily as his dick thrusted into you, "so tight... So good..." He groaned, leaving hickeys down your neck as he clung to your body. Your moans filled his ears and the dirty sound of you mixing with him was just sporting him on more. If only... "If you dont fuck me harder I might need to find something else." You tried to keep your voice as steady as possible, but you screeched as yamato almost dropped you back to the ground, "what was that? You think someone else can make you feel this good?" You swallowed thickly, knowing that you won't be able to walk tomorrow the minute he turned you around, pushing your face into the wall and your ass on display for him.

Van:

The dirty things Van purred into your ears all night did nothing to prepare you for the amount of overstimulation he has been giving you for hours now. You loved it when he edged you like this because the orgasm afterward is the best you will ever experience with anyone, and god he knew that. He knew exactly how to make you tremble, how to get your legs shaking like that, always matching your moans with one of his smirks. But you needed that wiped off tonight; you needed his cock deep inside you instead. "Van... Do you really think that's gonna do it for me?" His smirk dropped and his eyes widened slightly, "has it... It has before?" His words sounded unsure and his confidence was slowly sinking and you knew that you needed to do something now before he completely stopped, so you flipped him over and took control, much to his dismay, but your pleasure.

Shion:

Shion was laying on his back on the bed; you were on top of him. Movie night turned into a heated make out session and both of your pent up sexual tension took over. Marks were left, sloppy kisses were placed over every exposed part of skin, and clothes were ripped off. Both of your breathing became heavy with need and you could feel him grow hard beneath you; he knew you were getting more turned on by the minute as well. He groaned as you grinded into him and you smirked slightly, deciding to tease him, "you think that's gonna do it for me?" His face flushed at your words and he immediately sat up with you still in his lap. You cant do that to him, he becomes so self conscious. Now you have to reassure him that you were just teasing. Try again.