#there are other lines as well but just make me feel things

[absfemme]

squirting contest !! ♡︎

𐙚 cw ; squirting. strap-on usage. praise. overstim. threesome.

it had been at least thirty minutes, and they were still at it. relentless. determined.

your exes never really knew how to fuck you right—not the way you needed. you might’ve mentioned that to them. you might’ve also let slip that you’d never squirted before. and, of course, they took that as a challenge.

who could make you squirt first?

god, with them, everything was a competition. everything. even sex.

“violet, don't hog her—”

“oh, hush. you're just pissy because i'm going to win.”

caitlyn sits behind you, watching intently as vi takes you apart, smug satisfaction written all over her face. a slick, white, telltale ring coats the base of her cock, proof of many orgasms prior. four? five, maybe? you’ve lost count.

tears spill down your cheeks, your body trembling, spent and overstimulated. your poor, poor cunt was damn near numb at this point. "i—i can't," you hiccup, voice breaking. "too much. please."

vi doesn’t relent, ignoring the soft, broken whimpers that slip past your lips. caitlyn, however, takes pity on you. slender fingers brush away your tears, her other hand tracing slow, soothing circles over your knuckles. she presses gentle kisses along your jaw, murmuring against your skin, "yes, you can, darling. you’re okay."

the pressure coils tight inside you, unbearable and consuming. every deep thrust has you unraveling, the head of vi’s silicon dick sloppily hitting your cervix over and over again. your insides feel bruised, stretched beyond their limit.

"she’s close again," vi groans, her grip tightening. "getting tighter."

caitlyn hums in acknowledgment, slipping a hand between your legs and slapping your clit to push you even further. the touch makes you jump, thighs instinctively trying to snap shut, but vi is quicker—she pries them back open, her voice firm yet teasing.

"no, no, baby. keep them open for me. you’re close, yeah? squeezing me so fucking hard."

her words push you over the edge. your back bows off the bed, pleasure ripping through you in waves, your whole body trembling as you cum again. the two of them watch in quiet admiration, soaking in the sight of you undone.

and before you can even catch your breath, they switch places. caitlyn settles between your legs now, her strap pressing insistently at your entrance. it’s longer than vi’s, though not as thick—a deep, sparkly blue thing that leaves a visible bulge in your lower stomach as she lines up with you.

“it’s too big,” you whimper when caitlyn pushes into you, bottoming out in one slow, deliberate thrust. your walls flutter around her, stretched to the brink. “can’t—can’t do it.”

vi, now behind you, lets out a low chuckle, hands running soothingly up and down your arms. “you can take it, sweet girl,” she murmurs, voice laced with something between encouragement and envy. she presses a kiss to the side of your head, her breath warm against your ear. "just relax. let her take care of you."

caitlyn hushes you with a kiss of her own, softer, more patient. “you’re doing so well, sweetheart. just breathe.” her voice is gentle, but there’s a firm command beneath it, one that makes you obey despite the overwhelming stretch. she stays still for a moment, letting you adjust, her fingers smoothing over your trembling thighs before she pulls back and snaps her hips forward.

her pace is different from vi’s—less rough, more calculated. precision over brute force. each roll of her hips finds that spot inside you effortlessly, leaving you gasping, your body jerking with each thrust. the pleasure coils unbearably tight, winding like a spring ready to snap. then her fingers slip between your legs, rubbing quick, purposeful circles against your clit, pushing you to the edge even faster.

“c’mon, darling,” caitlyn coaxes, her voice a velvet purr. “i know you can give me one more.”

your body obeys before your mind can catch up. the pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, blinding and all-consuming. a sharp cry rips from your throat as your entire body seizes up, thighs trembling, stomach clenching—then everything snaps. liquid gushes out of you, soaking caitlyn’s stomach, the sheets, everything. you collapse against vi, utterly spent, breath hitching as you try to come down.

"holy shit, you squirted,” vi mutters, stunned, her arms wrapping around you, one hand stroking your damp hair while the other rests against your twitching stomach. she sounds impressed, but there’s something else in her voice too—frustration, maybe even jealousy. "not fairrrr! that should’ve been me."

caitlyn, ever composed, lets out a soft laugh as she pulls out, pressing one last kiss to your knee before sliding off the bed. “your cockiness never did get you anywhere, violet.” her tone is smug, self-satisfied, and vi groans dramatically behind you. "i'll grab something to clean up.”

the moment she’s gone, vi tilts your head up, making sure you’re looking at her. there’s a glint in her eyes, something you can’t recognize, her fingers tracing absentmindedly over your still-trembling stomach.

"next time, it'll be me," she murmurs, lips brushing against your temple. "bet on it, babe."

this is so ass bye im jumping

[lottie-loves-you]

This goes for every fandom and there are real reasons it's unacceptable. Ai image generators steal from artists to create those images. They also discourage artists from posting because we don't want our stuff stolen, destroy beginner artists from learning because"what's the point if ai can do it better", and add to the destruction of fandom culture. You appreciate your real artists a lot less when you devalue their work with ai. If you want something specific, learn to draw, commission someone, or find someone with requests open.

Ai text generators scrape fic sites so they are stealing from fic authors. That goes for Ai chat bots too. All the things I said about visual arts apply to writing as well but on top of that, especially in big fandoms, it's so painfully pointless. That specific thing y wanted the characters to do probably already exists in a fic if you look hard enough, you're just lazy and don't want to look. If it doesn't exist, write it yourself or commission someone to write it. Fic writers often stop posting due to lack of engagement so go find that specific fix you've been looking for and leave a really nice comment. If you're lucky, you might even encourage the author to write more like it. As for the ai chat bots, they contribute to the death of fandom culture. There are lots of other little weirdos(/pos) who want to rp the same stuff you do. Go find them and rp together. Is doing rp with another real person awkward sometimes? Maybe. Might it take longer than an ai that responds instantly? Yeah. So? You're building a real connection with a real other person instead of wasting your time talking to an ai that can't care about you or feel. The feeling of having another person that you're creating a brain child story with is something ai simply can't replicate because there is no other person on the other side and if you're like me and can't write with another person because they don't take it as seriously as you (yeah, I know. I'm so fun to be around but like… taking it too seriously is fun for me.) or you can't agree on ploy direction, maybe rp isn't for you and you should write fanfiction instead. If you don't like rp and decide to write alone instead, you can still have that community by asking moots to beta read for you. Either way, none of that connection happens when you use ai.

I actually think Ai audios are the most egregious. Often they are sexual and that is absolutely a violation of the actor/VAs who did not consent to their voices being used that way. Even when it's not sexualized, their voices are a large part of actor's jobs and VA's entire jobs so if you are stealing that from them, you're a fucking monster. If you're too embarrassed to do your own impressions of the characters saying whatever you want them to say, you shouldn't be posting it. Yes, this one is my most hard line, no nuance take. How would you feel if people were posting audio porn of your voice that you didn't make or consent to being made? Not good? Oh, great. If you can't see the problem with this one, kindly delete all your socials and never engage in any fandom or media again. There's no excuse for any ai use but especially this one. That's a real person's real voice.

I'm not sorry for any of these takes and I will call you disgusting, cowardly, and trash for using ai when you damn well know better. I call ai posting "littering" for a reason. Please openly shame ai usage.

like i'm sorry but we as a fandom have to stay firm on our anti-AI values. we cannot suddenly start giving AI a pass when it's something we "want to see" like destiel kisses. it's not suddenly fine. we're not going to start using AI to make fanfic scenes come to life or audio AI to make characters "say" stuff we want to hear. you have GOT to be firm on your anti-AI stance. if you start making exceptions then suddenly anything will fly. fandom is for real art and creations made by real people. no AI fanfics. no AI art. no AI rendered "bonus" scenes. no AI audio. none of it has a place here.

[muqingslover]

Hi! If you're open to requests, what would you think the lads men (or just one guy of your choice!!) would do in the following scenario?

They are out with mc when they run into mc's ex, and mc's ex says, "Damn, your taste in men changed a lot" in like a condescending manner. (Or something along those lines)

I hope you have a great time!! I love reading your stories!!

[ Thank you for the request! <3 I did a little of everyone so enjoy! ]

Sylus

"Your tastes sure have changed since the last time I saw you." is the first thing that actually catches his attention during the otherwise boring conversation.

Sylus is not an overly jealous person simply because he is very secure of his love for you and how good he is to you. The only thing your ex does is greatly amuse him because the difference is too great to even be considered fair.

"Naturally. You surely don't expect someone to eat trash forever, do you?" He would answer for you in a smooth voice while he towers over the both of you with that confident expression of his on his face.

He feels almost sorry for you, who had to make do with such men, but, not to worry, he's here now and he's not going anywhere.

Xavier

Taunting his jealous side is the same as playing with fire while knowing you're going to get burn.

"Is that the type of guy you prefer?" He'd ask the second the two of you are alone again. His hands pin you to the closest surface so you're unable to run from the conversation and he keeps his face very close to yours to watch for even the smallest reactions "Do you like him more than me?"

My advice? Say no as quickly as possible and give him a kiss to shush him otherwise you're in for the long, loooooong haul. Xavier is not easily soothed once he's worked up and he WILL hold grudges.

The next time your ex shows up he is quick to cut the conversation before they can even get a good morning in and makes it clear you belong to him now.

Rafayel

"What did you just say?" His head never whipped back faster mans almost twisted his own neck.

Arguably the most aggressive per se because he's SO obvious. To him it's just staggering you ever went out with anyone else, especially a thing like that, and that it's here, again, approaching you. Does it not see him? He's right there for god's sake!

"She's on duty so she can't talk to you right now. Or ever." He'd grab you by the shoulder as he sized the guy up and down with the most condescending and judgmental look on his face before scoffing. what a diva

He'll nag at you later for being "distracted while on the job" and say you're supposed to pay attention to him at all times otherwise how will his dear bodyguard protect him? Please be more mindful!

Caleb

It was a school reunion party when your old high school sweetheart came up to the both of you.

"Oh hey, I remember you! Weren't you the guy who got kicked out for cheating on his graduation exam?" He says with an innocent grin on his face knowing full well the guy is a deadbeat and making sure others heard it too.

It's canon he kept track of all crushes MC had while growing up and I'm sure he goes out of his way to show you their bad points so you won't even consider looking their way.

In some cases, Caleb had to get rid of them by manipulating things behind the scenes if they didn't take the hint and this one was one of those cases.

The guy was struggling with his grades and who is he to deny a helping hand? All he did was slip the sheet of answers to the test without anyone knowing, it's not his fault if the idiot accepted it knowing it was against the rules. Such an angel, isn't he.

This interaction will lead to him being even more territorial around you and he wants you to just stay home with him where it's safe. Pretty please?

Zayne

He will step in if they are bothering you by pretending he needs your immediate help in the office but otherwise Zayne merely listening in the background.

Once they're gone the silence is so loud.

You can basically feel that he's bothered by something, but he won't open his mouth even if you ask him about it because it's 'petty and childish'.

"Are you happy with me?" He'd eventually ask you after stewing in his own thoughts for the day. What if your tastes hadn't changed and you were just too nice to tell him he's not doing enough? That he is not enough.

Please reassure this sweet man that you're happy in the relationship. Especially so if your ex is the type that is super extroverted and easy to get along with since that's one of the points he struggles with the most.

The problem goes away on its own after some good quality time together and affectionate words.

[windvexer]

You just have to be good at one thing.

Hear me out. This is just an example, but let's just say the one thing I can actually do really well on a magical level is dig a ditch.

It's a super earthy activity. It makes sense to me. Earth stuff just works well for me. The technique I've found to do this magically is really fulfilling to me - maybe I draw lines in trays of salt, or go outside and dig with a trowel. And it works for me.

When I magically dig a ditch, magical ditches are dug.

Someone wants a friendship spell? I dig a friend-shaped ditch around them that friends fall into.

Someone wants money? I dig a sloping ditch that leads from Money to their bank account.

Someone wants protection? I dig a ditch and use that as a foundational barrier, like a moat.

Other stuff might not work. Maybe I can't really raise up a wall. Maybe when I try to work magic with the conceptual energies of money and prosperity in a candle spell, it just fizzles out and falls flat. Maybe I can't conjure a spirit road for shit, unless I'm digging a lazy river for the spirits to float down on.

I enjoy casting a wide net and doing many magical experiments, but lately I've been leaning into magic that just works really well for me. And what I've realized is that I end up doing the same things, over and over again.

Maybe all I can do magically is tie a knot. Maybe all I can do is break a stick. It kind of feels like cheating, like mashing a combo move you know will win every time. Simultaneously, it makes me feel like I'm not as well-rounded as I thought I was. All I'm doing over here is digging ditches.

Anyway, I just wanted to say ~ I think an important avenue of exploration is finding any little thing you can reliably do, and going full hog. After all, life as we know it would collapse without ditches.

[mminghaos]

pink in the night , yoon jeonghan x f!reader

“and i know i’ve kissed you before, but i didn’t do it right”

SYNOPSIS: jeonghan shows up at your door months after the both of you ended things, and despite everything that’s happened, you cant help but give in.

WARNINGS: smut, oral (f!receiving), angst

requests open, do send some in !!

jeonghan shouldn’t be here, really.

and you shouldn’t be standing here, staring at him like you don’t know exactly how this ends.

but you don’t close the door.

he’s watching you, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, hair messy like he ran his fingers through it a hundred times before knocking. you hate that he still looks good like this — casual, effortless, like he didnt wreck you months ago and then leave you to pick up the pieces alone.

“what do you want?” your voice is sharper than you mean for it to be, but you dont take it back.

he shrugs, like this isn’t a big deal, like he’s just passing through. “just wanted to see you.”

your fingers curl tighter around the door. that’s the problem, isn’t it? jeonghan always does what he wants. shows up when it’s convenient for him. says things that get under your skin, waits for you to react, waits for you to break first.

not this time.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you tell him.

“i know,” he says. and yet, he still doesn’t leave.

you hate him for this. for making you stand in the doorway of your own apartment, pulse too quick, mind too slow. for making it so goddamn hard to look at him and remember why you let him go in the first place.

this is fucked up. things ended months ago. you should have shut the door in his face. he played with your feelings like they were nothing, kissed you like you were nothing. and now he expects you to forgive him just like that?

but then he exhales, slow, careful, and his voice drops into something softer. “i should’ve done stuff differently.” he says, taking a step closer “i had my chance and i fucked up.”

you scoff before you can stop yourself. “seriously?”

“i mean it,” he murmurs, tilting his head, studying you like he’s trying to figure out what you’ll do next. “you don’t think about it?”

you shouldn’t. but of course you do.

it’s what pisses you off the most. that even after everything, there are nights you still feel the ghost of his hands on you, his lips at your throat, his voice in your ear. that you still remember exactly how he felt between your legs and how you woke up to him besides you in the mornings.

but that’s not enough. it was never enough.

“not my problem,” you say, but your voice isn’t as steady as it should be.

he catches it, of course he does. jeonghan knows you too well, knows how to read between the lines, knows how to press at your weak spots until you let him in.

his fingers brush against your wrist — barely a touch, but it sends something sharp and electric up your spine. your stomach twists. he’s always been good at this.

you should tell him to leave.

but then his other hand finds your waist, and your breath catches, and you realize you don’t move away.

this is a mistake.

jeonghan leans in, slow, like he’s giving you time to stop him. his lips are close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, and your body betrays you, leaning just the slightest bit forward.

his lips barely graze yours before you turn your head, his mouth landing on your cheek instead.

“you don’t deserve that,” you whisper.

his forehead drops against yours, and he exhales, his hands flexing against your skin.

“i know.”

his voice is so quiet, too quiet. too good.

your fingers hover over his chest. they shouldn’t. but he’s warm, and close, and familiar in all the ways that make your head spin.

“just once,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “let me get it right.”

you should say no.

but you don’t.

his lips don’t press to yours right away. he waits, forehead still resting against yours, his hands unmoving at your waist like he’s giving you the chance to stop this. to step back and slam the door in his face like you should have the second you saw him standing there.

but you don’t move.

and neither does he.

his fingers tighten slightly, barely gripping, barely holding. like he’s afraid he’ll push too far and youll disappear. you should make him beg for it, should make him suffer the way you did when he walked away the first time, but the way he’s looking at you — soft, unreadable, too much — makes your chest ache.

“tell me to go,” he murmurs. “i will.”

your breath catches, throat tight, because he says it like he means it. like he’ll actually leave if you tell him to.

but that’s the problem, isn’t it? you don’t want him to.

you should. god, you should.

but instead, your fingers tighten in the front of his hoodie, tugging just slightly, and that’s all it takes.

he exhales shakily, barely a breath before his lips finally, finally press to yours.

and it’s everything you remember. warm, familiar, intoxicating in the way that makes your head spin. his hands slide up, fingertips pressing just hard enough to remind you that he’s here, that you’re letting him do this, that you should stop before it goes too far.

but you don’t.

because the second his tongue brushes against your lower lip, you part for him, and then you’re really kissing him — deep and slow and desperate, like trying to erase the last few months .

jeonghan groans softly into your mouth, his hands sliding lower, gripping your hips like he needs you closer, like he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold tight enough. and maybe that should scare you, how easily you let him in, how easily you forget why you told yourself this would never happen again.

but then he’s walking you backward, guiding you towards your bedroom, and the second the door clicks shut behind him, it doesn’t matter anymore.

your back meets the bedroom wall with a quiet thud, and jeonghan takes the chance to press closer, caging you in. his hands are everywhere — sliding up your sides, skimming over your ribs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

his lips don’t leave yours, moving slow, deep, like he’s savoring this, like he’s making sure you feel every second of it.

and you do.

your fingers twist in the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer, because no matter how much you hate this, hate him for still having this hold on you, it’s been months. months of pretending, months of acting like you don’t still crave him in the worst way.

his hands slide lower, palms hot against your bare skin as they dip under your shirt, and you shiver, arching into him before you can stop yourself. his lips curl against yours, and you hate the way he knows exactly what that means.

“still so sensitive,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth down to your jaw, then lower, lips ghosting over the column of your throat.

you swallow hard, tilting your head back against the wall, fingers curling against his chest. “shut up.”

he huffs a quiet laugh against your skin, but he doesn’t push — doesn’t gloat like you expect him to. instead, his hands skim up your sides again, slow, careful, like he’s feeling his way through this.

like he knows he doesn’t get to fuck this up a second time.

you should tell him to stop. should shove him back and remind him that this means nothing.

but when his teeth scrape against your pulse point, your breath stutters, and your nails press into his shoulders.

this is a mistake.

then he’s tugging your shirt higher, fingertips ghosting over your ribs, and your body betrays you all over again, pressing into him, wanting more.

jeonghan hums low in his throat, dragging his lips back up to yours.

“tell me to stop.” he murmurs, just before he goes in to kiss you again. “last chance to tell me to leave.”

and you don’t.

he guides you back to your bed, and it’s exactly as you remember. the soft creak of the mattress, the familiar scent of your sheets that’s somehow now mixed with his cologne. just the sight of him, standing over you, has that fluttering feeling in your stomach making its way up to your chest, catching your breath in a way you cant stop, no matter how much you try.

he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear, murmuring, “let me make it up to you.” the words stir something deep inside, the kind of longing that you’ve tried so hard to bury.

you want to say no, so badly, the urge to push him off you, slam the door in his face, tell him to fuck off and never come back. but you don’t.

you can’t.

he’s too close. too fucking close. the warmth of his body next to yours makes it impossible to push him away.

and when his lips press against your neck, hot and soft, like a promise he doesn’t plan on keeping, you know that you should say something — anything — but you don’t.

you feel his fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down with practiced ease, and you don’t even have the energy to stop him. your hands curl into the sheets, your heart hammering in your chest. the last shred of resistance you had crumbles, and you’re left breathless beneath him.

he’s looking at you now, his gaze intense, searching your eyes like he’s trying to find something.

“focus,” he whispers, his voice low and coaxing, the softest it’s been in months. “are you sure? i don’t want you regretting anything like me.”

you try to summon some strength, to find some piece of you that remembers why this is such a terrible idea. you should push him away. you should stand your ground, tell him you’re not doing this.

but his voice — god, his voice, so quiet, so sincere — washes over you like a wave, and you feel yourself starting to slip. you exhale a shaky breath, your fingers clutching at the sheets like it might anchor you, but it doesn’t.

you tilt your head back against the pillow, closing your eyes, feeling the heat rise in your body.

“i’m sure,” you whisper, the words almost foreign on your tongue.

the moment you say it, you feel his mouth on you, his lips pressing softly at first, but then growing urgent, demanding as his hands slide down, holding your hips, guiding you towards him.

you lose track of everything — of the time, of the reason you told yourself you’d never go down this road with him again. his mouth is on your neck, then your chest, trailing down, his fingers already tracing the lines of your skin, the pads of them brushing so delicately against your stomach that your breath hitches.

you don’t know when your legs part, but they do, instinctively, welcoming him closer. his tongue dips between your legs, the warmth of it sending a jolt straight through you, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips.

your hands fly to his hair without thought, pulling him closer, urging him on, as his mouth works its way down, slow and deliberate, as if he’s savoring every inch of you. your breath comes faster, your heart pounding, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

all of it blurs until there’s nothing but him, the way he’s touching you, the way he knows exactly what to do.

his tongue flicks against your clit and swirls in slow, deliberate motions that make your legs twitch. the sensation has your body reacting before your mind can catch up, every nerve burning with heat. you can feel the coil tightening in your stomach, like it’s pulling you closer to the edge, and you curse yourself for getting so close so fast.

it’s embarrassing how easily he gets under your skin, how quickly he makes you lose control. the soft pressure of his mouth makes it impossible to think straight, to remember why you shouldn’t let this happen. every time he moves, his tongue tracing circles, flicking faster, slower, it makes your breath catch.

you want to say something — anything — to make him stop, but you dont find it in you to do so. it’s like he’s always known exactly what you need, and even if you try to push him away, he only pulls you deeper into this mess.

you hate to admit it, but you’ve missed him. you’ve missed this fucking idiot yoon jeonghan. missed his voice, his face, his scent, how he feels against you.

but you let go of the emotional shit for now just as his tongue prods at your entrance. his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you even closer. you can’t stop yourself from giving in.

“hannie—” you gasp, your voice weak, barely a whisper, and you let the nickname slip before you can stop yourself. he lifts his head up, his chin and mouth covered in your juices just as a low groan escapes from deep in his chest.

and just like that, you’re lost. you lose control. everything you thought you knew about what you wanted, what you needed, disappears in the rush of his touch, in the pull of his body, in the way he makes you forget how wrong this is.

and when he continues, each slow stroke of his tongue, each press of his mouth, you let yourself slip, even if you know its not a good idea.

the coil snaps.

your legs snap shut, pleasure coursing through your body. you can’t contain it, can’t hold back the wave crashing over you. every muscle in your body tightens, and your grip on jeonghan’s hair tightens along with them, pulling him even closer.

you come undone all over his face, trembling as you ride out your high. it feels like too much, like it’s going to swallow you whole, and yet, it’s exactly what you need. you don’t want to stop, don’t want this moment to end, even as the aftershocks make your body twitch with sensitivity.

he runs his hands over your hips, your thighs, your stomach, soothing you.

you’re left panting, flushed, and all you can focus on is him — how he’s holding you, how his mouth still lingers on your skin even after you’ve come undone.

“hmm, seems like my way of making it up to you is enough already, angel.”

[societyfolklore]

Under Brooklyn Stars

Title: Under Brooklyn Stars Pairing: Young!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary:  On a sweltering summer night in 1936, you and Bucky Barnes find yourselves alone on your shared rooftop escape. What starts as quiet conversation about dreams of leaving Brooklyn turns into something far more intense- something neither of you can hold back anymore.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Childhood friends to lovers, Smut, Fluff, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Young/teen love (Both 18+ though), Messy Kisses, Semi Public Sex (roof top)

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for Bucky 108th Bday event Square: B1 – Childhood Friends to Lovers   Card Number: 4B003 The rooftop had always been your special place. You’d all been coming up here for a while now, somewhere private when your family's apartment started to feel too small, and you were getting too old to just ‘wander around.’ Your father didn’t think it was ‘ladylike’ or 'proper' to be sitting out on the stoop with teenage boys, even though you, Steve, and Bucky had all been friends since Mrs. Jackson's class in elementary school. The roof remained your secret escape from the loud siblings, nosey parents, stuffy rooms, and the judging eyes of the Brooklyn borough. It was where you'd grown up in quiet rebellion- where laughter echoed into the night, where secrets were whispered between best friends, and where the lines between childhood and something more had slowly started to blur.

Steve had been with you earlier, but he’d left to walk his mother home from her shift at the hospital, leaving you and Bucky alone.

Tonight, the heat still clung to the buildings, wrapping around you like a heavy embrace. The salty tang of the East River carried on the breeze, mingling with the smoky scent of grilled meat from street vendors and the faint, lingering warmth of sunbaked brick. Bucky lay out on the picnic blanket you’d dragged up here weeks ago, long legs stretched out, his sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone at the collar. The book in his hands- your book- propped open against his chest, well-loved pages fluttering slightly in the warm air.

“You plannin’ some kind of great escape, Doll?” he teased, turning the book toward you to show the scribbled notes in the margins of Around the World in 80 Days.

You shrugged, a little embarrassed as you stepped away from the rooftop’s edge and back toward the blanket as you sat down, smoothing out the fabric of your dress, suddenly self-conscious. “Can’t stay in the boroughs forever.”

He hummed, a soft smile curling at the edges of his lips. “No? And where would you go?”

“Everywhere.” The dream was foolish- impossible, even. But you admired the Irish neighbours who had come searching for something more. If they could do it, why couldn’t you? “Anywhere I don’t know...London, Paris, see the Pyramids, ride the Orient Express, sail on a Junk Boat around the waters of Hong Kong.." 

You felt his eyes on you, the way he’d put the book down and rolled onto his side, fully focused. That was the thing about Bucky- when he listened, he really listened.

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head to study him.

“Me?” His brows lifted slightly, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

“What would make you happy?”

For a moment, he hesitated, something unreadable passing through his blue eyes before he murmured, “Dunno, sweetheart. Think I’d be happy if I just had you.”

The words hit you like a strike of lightning, stealing the air from your lungs. When had he started looking at you like that? Smiling at you like that? This was Bucky- the same boy who had once handed you his lost tooth so you could get extra pocket money for sweets. The same boy who had splashed you with river water after you’d shoved him in with Steve, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. You had grown up together, had spent years tangled in each other’s lives, but this- this wasn’t the same.

Bucky was always charming, always saying sweet things- but this wasn’t just teasing anymore. His voice held something deeper, something raw and unguarded, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Your lips parted, but no words came. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with the gentlest touch. The warmth of his fingertips lingered against your skin, making your stomach twist into something hot and desperate.

“Bet nowhere on earth’s prettier than those eyes of yours,” he murmured.

Your breath caught. The city buzzed faintly beneath you, a distant hum of life carrying on, while above, the stars shimmered like scattered diamonds. But none of it mattered- all you could focus on was the man beside you, the way his eyes darkened as he leaned in, closing the space between you. And when Bucky leaned in, closing the space between you, you didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant- like he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you melted into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his lips moved against yours with slow, aching intent.

And then it changed.

Desire tightened in your chest, years of unspoken longing unraveling all at once, too much to contain. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as your mouths collided again, desperate now. You gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss as his fingers traced the curve of your spine, dragging you closer. Heat surged between you, and suddenly, the summer air wasn’t the only thing making you feel breathless.

“Bucky,” you whispered, barely a plea, barely a warning.

He groaned, his hands shaking slightly as they slid down your waist, fingertips gripping at the fabric of your dress like he needed something to hold onto. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, open-mouthed kisses against fevered skin. Your heart pounded, body thrumming with a heat that had nothing to do with the summer night.

You pushed your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly just to hear the low, needy sound that escaped his throat. He pulled you fully onto his lap, the rough fabric of his trousers pressing against your bare thighs. His hands slipped beneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skimming over your thighs, tracing soft patterns against your skin before his touch became more insistent, more certain. He was hesitant, but not unsure- like he was savouring each new inch of you, learning your body as he went. The contrast of his rough fingers against your soft skin sent a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your belly as he explored, as if committing every touch to memory.

“Jesus,” he muttered against your skin, like he was overwhelmed, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. His hands flexed against your hips, fingers digging in like he needed to ground himself.

Your breath hitched as you shifted against him, the pressure between your bodies making your stomach tighten, making you both gasp. A blush burned hot across your cheeks, the intimacy of it all hitting you suddenly- how close you were, how little space was left between you.

His forehead pressed against yours, breath ragged, blue eyes blown wide as he searched your face. “We don’t- ” he started, voice thick, unsure.

“I know,” you interrupted, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, your own breath unsteady. “But I don’t want to stop.”

His lips crashed against yours again, any hesitation melting away as need overtook caution. His hands roamed, his touch firmer now, like he’d accepted what was happening, what you both wanted. You gasped into his mouth as his hands pushed your dress higher, his palms skimming up your thighs, rough fingertips sending sparks through your skin.

“You know,” he muttered between kisses, his lips brushing against your jaw, “I’ve wanted to touch you for so damn long.”

Your breath hitched as he tilted your chin up, his nose grazing yours. “Since when?”

He groaned softly, fingers flexing against your thighs. “Since I saw you kiss Sam Haynsworth in the park.”

You winced at the memory. Unlike Bucky, Sam had practically drooled into your mouth, and the recollection of it made you cringe. “God, don’t remind me.”

Bucky chuckled, but there was something darker, hungrier in the way his hands tightened around your waist. “Was jealous as hell, y’know?” His voice was low, rough. “Wanted to be the one kissin’ you like that… bein’ the one touchin’ you.”

Heat curled low in your belly, his confession sending a fresh wave of want through you. “Bucky…”

“Wanna touch you so bad,” he whispered, his lips tracing a heated path down your throat, his hands sliding higher under your dress, fingertips grazing over the soft cotton of your underwear. A shaky breath escaped you as he rubbed slow, teasing circles, pressing just enough to make your thighs tremble around him.

A soft sound slipped from your lips, something between a sigh and a whimper, and Bucky let out a low, shuddering breath at the movement. His other hand gripped your waist, grounding you against him, against the undeniable hardness beneath his slacks. The heat between you burned hotter, more desperate. You reached down, fingers fumbling against the fabric of his trousers, feeling the solid length of him beneath your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath, forehead pressing against yours as he let out a low, needy curse.

“I’d be so good to you, Doll, if you let me,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint. “You want that, don'cha?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, overwhelmed by how much you did want it, how much you wanted him.

“I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go,” he promised, his fingers pressing more firmly, sending a shiver through you. His lips brushed yours, teasing, coaxing. “Just tell me you’re my girl.”

Your breath trembled as you met his gaze, the weight of his words pressing into you as much as his touch.

"I'm your girl," you whispered, the confession slipping past your lips before you could second-guess it.

Bucky's breath hitched, and then he was moving, shifting, his hands firm yet careful as he eased you down onto the picnic blanket. The fabric was warm against your back, but all you could focus on was him- his weight pressing into you, the way his breath ghosted over your skin. He hovered for a moment, eyes searching yours, like he was memorizing this, savouring the way you looked beneath him before he finally dipped down, capturing your lips again in a kiss that was all heat and promise. His body flush against yours, the weight of him pressing you into the softness below. His mouth found yours again, hungrier now, lips parting to deepen the kiss as his hands roamed- gripping, teasing, worshipping.

His fingers slipped back beneath your dress again, rubbing slow, deliberate circles through the thin cotton of your underwear, drawing out breathless gasps from you. Your thighs trembled, hips rolling instinctively into his touch, craving more, needing more. Bucky groaned, his forehead pressing to yours as he watched you, his expression dark with want. "Bu-Buck.." Your voice getting stuck in your throat as your mouth went dry. 

“You feel so good,” he rasped, his fingers dipping just a little lower, teasing the edge of the fabric. “Been dreamin’ about this, Doll… ‘bout you.”

Your breath hitched as your hand found him again, palming him through his slacks, feeling how hard he was, how much he needed this- how much he needed you. His hips jerked at the contact, a low curse slipping from his lips as he dropped his head against your shoulder.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he muttered, breath ragged. “You’re gonna a guy doing that.”

But he didn’t stop. Instead, he seized the moment, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down over your thighs and knees. His first brush of his fingers against your bare skin sent a sharp jolt through you, a choked gasp slipping from your lips. He groaned at the sound, his forehead pressing to yours as his fingers explored, stroking through the damp heat he found there.

“Good?” he rasped, voice thick with want. “Been thinking about this, about you, for so damn long, how you'd feel. All the little noises you'd make." 

Your fingers, trembling with urgency, found the button of his slacks, undoing it with clumsy desperation. He sucked in a sharp breath as your hand slipped inside, wrapping around him properly for the first time. The weight, the heat of him in your palm, had you swallowing hard, a thrill rushing through you at the way his whole body tensed beneath your touch.

“Christ Doll..” he groaned, hips jerking instinctively into your grip. “Ya keep doin’ that- ”

You stroked him slowly, revelling in the way his breath hitched, in the way his fingers momentarily faltered against you before resuming their teasing, sinful movements. He was unravelling, just as much as you were, the rooftop heat wrapping around you both, the world narrowing to just him.

Bucky’s fingers curled slightly, pressing into you just right, pulling a sharp moan from your throat. He didn’t stop, pushing deeper, his pace slow but deliberate, drawing out every little sound from you that he could. Your hips lifted to meet him, your thighs trembling as he stretched you open, teasing that spot inside you that made your breath hitch.

His gaze flickered up to meet yours, eyes dark and searching. "You like that, don’tcha?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek. "Feels good?"

You nodded, your breath shuddering. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "So good, Bucky. Please- don’t stop."

He groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as his fingers moved faster, sliding in and out with more purpose, more confidence now that he knew just how much you wanted it. "Jesus, Doll," he muttered,. "You’re so tight… squeezing me so damn good." He lowered his head nipping lightly at your neck.

Your whole body tighten at his words, and as you pumped him in return, wrapping your fingers tighter around him, Bucky let out a strangled curse. The combination of your touch, the way your body responded to him- it was too much.

“Fuck,” he gritted, his hips jerking into your hand, his fingers faltering inside you for just a moment before he pulled them away. His lips crashed onto yours, desperate and wild, as he yanked your dress up past your waist, hands shaking with need. "Can’t take it- need you, Doll. Need all of you. Now." 

You whimpered in response, fumbling at his slacks, pushing them down his hips with clumsy urgency, your hands shaking just as much as his. He helped, shoving them down far enough for you to feel the hot, rigid length of him pressing against your thigh. The sensation sent a jolt through you, your body tensing in anticipation.

“Bucky,” you gasped as he settled between your legs, his weight pressing you into the blanket, the sheer need in his expression making your breath stutter.

His breath hitched, pulling back to take in your face. “Tell me you want this,” his eyes pleading, he needed to hear it just once more.

“I want this," you whispered, arching into him, your legs wrapping around his waist. "I want you."

A low, broken moan escaped him, and then he was kissing you again, his hands gripping your hips as he pushed forward, as the last barrier between you was lost.

And then, for a moment, everything stilled.

Your breaths mingled, hot and uneven, filling the space between you as your bodies adjusted to the closeness, the intensity, the overwhelming feeling of it all. His forehead dropped to yours, both of you panting, bodies trembling, hearts racing in sync.

Bucky’s hands flexed against your hips, as if grounding himself, his grip firm but reverent. “Jesus,” he murmured, voice wrecked, his lips ghosting over yours, not quite kissing, just feeling you. "You- You alright, Doll?"

You nodded, chest rising and falling against his, your fingers threading into his hair as you breathed him in. "Yeah," you whispered, your voice shaky but sure. "You?"

This wasn’t your first time, but it might as well have been. Nothing before had ever felt like this- this heat, this intensity, the way every nerve in your body seemed attuned to him, how every shift, every breath, sent sparks through your veins. It was different because it was him- because it was Bucky.

He let out a shuddering breath, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. "I don’t ever wanna forget this," he confessed, the admission raw, vulnerable. "You feel so good."

Your hands smoothed down his back, nails lightly raking over his skin, anchoring yourself to him. "Me neither," you murmured. "I need you to move, Buck. Please."

He groaned at your words, at the way you tightened your legs around him, silently urging him on. And then, slowly, he did, rolling his hips, setting a rhythm that made stars explode behind your eyes, your head falling back with a breathless moan.

Bucky cursed under his breath, burying his face against your neck as he moved, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. "God, Doll... you feel so damn good," he murmured, voice thick with emotion, with need. "Been wantin' you like this for so long."

You gasped, your fingers gripping his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin as his body rocked into yours, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. "Me too, Bucky," you whispered, voice shaking. "Feels arh so good... don't stop."

His pace stuttered at your words, a groan breaking from his lips as he kissed you, messy and desperate. His hands slid down your thighs, gripping them tighter as he drove into you, the slow, deep drag of him making your breath catch. The night air wrapped around you both, the rooftop world fading as all you could focus on was him- his weight, his heat, the way he filled you so perfectly. "God! Oh God- Buck."  Your voice getting higher as each stroke sent pleasure up your spine, your body tightening around him. He felt it- felt you trembling beneath him, felt the way your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper. "Yeah Doll- That’s it," he groaned, his voice wrecked. "C'mon, sweetheart. Give it to me."

The tension inside you snapped, pleasure crashing over you in a dizzying wave. You cried out, your body clenching around him, and Bucky let out a strangled moan, his hips movements growing erratic. He tried to hold on, to make this last, but feeling you fall apart around him, the way you gasped his name- it undid him completely.

"Fuck- Doll- " His hips jerked, his rhythm breaking as he buried himself deep, his release overtaking him. His breath came in ragged, shuddering gasps as he pressed his forehead to yours, holding you so tightly like he was afraid to let go.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Your breaths mingled, still uneven, both of you trying to steady the whirlwind of sensations still coursing through your bodies. The stars blinked above, the hum of Brooklyn alive in the distance, but here- wrapped up in each other- it was quiet. Just the two of you, bodies tangled, hearts pounding in sync.

Bucky brushed his nose against yours, his lips ghosting over your cheek before pressing the softest kiss to your temple. "You okay?"

You smiled, breathless, brushing a hand through his damp hair. "More than okay. You?"

He let out a low chuckle, kissing you again, slow and lingering. "Never been better, Doll."

The rooftop was quiet, sacred, the summer air wrapping around you both as you lay tangled together, skin still warm, hearts still racing.

Bucky exhaled, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your spine. "Guess we finally got our escape, huh?" He smiled against your skin, voice warm and drowsy, as if the whole world had narrowed down to just this- just you. "Maybe not the one you planned, but still pretty damn perfect."

You hummed, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. "Guess so."

He shifted, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers, eyes searching yours. "Still wanna see the world?"

You nodded, a soft smile playing at your lips. "Yeah. But I think I found the most important part already."

Bucky grinned, brushing his lips over yours in the faintest kiss, his voice nothing but a whisper against your skin. "Wherever you go, Doll… I go too."

[jesterkoops]

It’s really funny to me to see people suddenly going all SHOCKED PIKACHU after this episode with the realisation that the show will have to address how Helena being complicit in Gemma’s.. whatever it is is going on down there has repercussion for Mark and Helly's (and Helena's) relationship. And saying this suddenly changes how they see Mark and Helly’s relationship and HELLY BAD! NO MORE HELLY FOR MARK! NO!

Really?? It took THIS episode for you to realise this was literally going to be THE major point of conflict for them?? I remember finishing the rewatch before this season began and saying this very thing to my friends. Why else would they even make MarkHelly a thing and reveal she was Helena in the very next episode, if that’s not precisely where this was going to go? This episode hasn’t really changed how I see Mark and Helly/Helena’s relationship at all, because for me it was a given all along this was bound to come up. It was literally THE thing that shot my interest in their dynamic through the roof, when before I was like "meh, another workplace romance between leads". There was literally nothing in this latest episode that changed how I see any of these dynamics. The specifics of whether Gemma was braindead, or alive, or cryogenically frozen, or what have you has no impact on the fact that Helena is to some degree complicit in all this (to what degree, and just how much she actually knows, is still TBD; she's still such a mystery - I have another post about this in the works).

And what baffles me is that some seem to think that the people who came up with THIS show couldn’t possibly find a way to develop this that hasn’t yet occurred to us. "Well, I can't see any other way this ends if not with Mark getting Gemma back, and Helena evil/sacrificing herself for Mark and Gemma/dead" (or something along those lines). Like, sure, that's the most logical conclusion and THAT is what intrigues me: what am I missing that these writers have up their sleeves? It baffles me that it took ONE episode for some to be willing to strip away the entire complexity of the show and the innies/outies dichotomy and the moral and empathy dilemma it is supposed to force upon us through Mark acting as a 'conduit' for the audience.

Pitting up the two relationships against each other as one being superior to the other trivialises innies and their feelings the same way Lumon does. You can't on one hand feel empathy for Gemma's multiple innies and consider their feelings as valid and the impact they have on Gemma and in the same breath dismiss innie Mark's and Helly's feelings as childish and unimportant.

Being able to dismiss innie Mark's feelings as unimportant or inferior to outie Mark's feelings is an easy solution to the struggle reintegration is supposed to present. Take away that struggle, and you remove what's narratively interesting about reintegration.

Along these lines, the last few days I realised that Gemma HAD to be alive for this to be interesting because her being actually dead gives Mark (and consequently the audience) an easy way out. If the whole point of reintegration involves Mark dealing with the fact that he merged a part of him that loves Gemma with a part of him that never did and loves someone else instead... well, if Gemma is actually gone, that doesn't pose much of a challenge for Mark, does it? If Gemma were gone, his predicament would be the same as any other widower who falls in love again. But if she's alive, he has to actually wrestle with the two parts of himself that pull him in two different directions and want two different lives.

And we circle back to point 2: the only way point 3 is narratively interesting is if innie Mark's feelings are just as strong and important and valid as outie Mark's feelings.

And, to a lesser extent, for his feelings to be as strong and important and valid, Helena CANNOT just be a straight up villain because then we would circle back to point 3; it would be the equivalent of Gemma being dead. It would strip the dilemma from Mark because it would be easy for him to dismiss his feelings for her/Helly.

I admit, this is a very very tricky situation to navigate for the writers to avoid falling into cliches and to wrap it up in a way that's original and satisfying. But it's ridiculous to be definitive about an endgame at this stage when there is still so much story to go through. You are literally jumping the gun and reaching conclusions while missing a ton of information and development still.

[shatcey]

Lover Contract (Victor)

I will not make summary… there is not much plot in this story. They came to this club (for lovers only), noticed the guy they needed to check out, and… look around a bit. That's all. But… Kate and Victor had interesting (even philosophical) thoughts, and I would like to reflect on them…

But before that… Victor spoils us a lot with his gentle expression at this event. And… because of that, it took me longer than usual to read it… I just couldn't help but stare at him..

(smiles tenderly) He's so cute…

The post turned out to be quite big. Like like my theory post… very big. I am surprised myself. But I mentioned that I liked this event, even though it didn't have much plot, it contained a lot of interesting thoughts and made me think. More than usual… if that even possible.

They came to this club to confirm that one of the Prime Council member is having an affair. And they noticed him right away… Victor was contemplating…

Despite the fact that he seems to be a person who sees everything only in white and black… bad or good… He doesn't divide people based on that. In his eyes, they are all the same. Friends or foes… they all are just people. The only reason he decided he had to use this information against the guy… because he needs to protect Crown. If he didn't have to, what would he decide? I wondering…

And after that, they noticed another acquaintance��� The guy who is famous for being a faithful husband and even making speeches about it… But it turned out that he has a mistress.

Victor looks extremely angry here. That's not the right word… he looks at the guy with disdain. The fact that someone is cheating annoys him, as if for some reason it is very personal to him. Had someone betrayed him? Had someone betrayed his loved ones?

At the very end of the main part of the story… Kate… looking at all these unfaithful spouses thinking out loud…

After everything she'd seen… unsurprisingly, she began to doubt…

He's fascinated by love in general. I have a feeling it has something to do with his curse… Freedom and love… All fairy tales are about at least one of these concepts, but they're usually about protoganist, not antoganist. Was there antagonist somewhere who did bad things for love??? I… don't remember… If ANY love is "fascinating"… As Ally said in the Chocolate event, "everything is fair in love and war." It must be somehow related… No, I still can't catch that thought…

A long sentence on the middle screenshot… can be not entirely correct. I found a very interesting dictionary. It's quite easy to split a sentence into words. BUT… most languages have a very strict order of words in a sentence. And if you know this order, you can easily understand that the part of the speech every word should be. But… there are no special restrictions in my native language… as you may have noticed, I'm constantly playing with words.So, out of habit, I could interpret these words as I see fit. Even adjust it to my thoughts. There was a question in the original text, but it was in the middle. But to make it sound more logical, I changed the sentence to this.

And this wording of his makes me think that he is not a human. He talks about them as if he is just an observer… and has nothing to do with them…

And here we go… What he said earlier was… just a fact, and he doesn't judge others, this it their life. But personally he doesn't like cheating. Nice to know.

Bitter ending

After a short walk (I don't see the point in telling you what happened there, it's not relevant) they return back to the main hall. Kate is thirsty (I wonder why), Vivi notices this and orders drinks.

Well, he's a second Gilly-bee. He probably knows more about you than you know yourself…

I played with the words again, but it seems more correct than what the mechanical translation suggested to me. So… she feels like he's far away… for many reasons: age, experience, knowledge, status… But he takes it literally. The distance. We learned from the LINE campaign that he has been looking out for her from a DISTANCE for a very long time. And… he feels lonely because even though he is with her right now, she still thinks he is far away.

If I had read this BEFORE the LINE campaign, perhaps I would have interpreted these words as his usual sad thoughts about loneliness. But now everything is completely different. And in the next part, he literally says it. He took her hand and told her that he was here with her. And he's "just like her." It's a very peculiar wording. I'm not going to talk about it now. I'm more happy about the next part. He never considered himself free.

He FINALLY admitted it. Where it was… in one of my theory posts… I was talking about freedom… here. It was pretty obvious, but Vivi had never confirmed it before… But here… he really became more open, more… naked, as he said in the epilogue… It was as if he no longer had the desire to remain an observer with her… It feels like we're already in the middle of his route. I'll explain why I think so later.

Kate had an interesting thought…

It makes me think about that damn…. fish… again… I know she's not a fish, she's kind of humanoid. Thatever! The mermaid is not the villain in this story… She's a victim. A victim of betrayal. She suffers from the moment she fell in love until the very end. But… It seems that everything fits too well into the story… And the fact that he takes care of her from a distance, and the fact that he used to be free, but no anymore… It's just too similar. Annoying so. Calm down, girl, it's too early to riled up. But if his curse is that damn fish, I'll scream!

And the fact that Kate either thinks of him that way, or already knows about it… It seems that this is already his route.

Premium ending

We talked for a while on the balcony. After Kate said that she now considers love to be freer than she originally thought… Victor suddenly noticed.

IT'S SO CLOSE!!! But not quite. Oh, what a shame! If you don't understand what I'm implying, I've written about it here.

And after Kate asks, "What kind of love is Victor looking for?"

I don't need Harrison to confirm this, it's obvious that he's lying. Well… he wasn't lying, but he wasn't completely honest either. Yes, he's obsessed with taking care of everyone, but… It's more like… a habit. I don't know… or… unfulfilled desire… Projection, maybe?… No one cared about him, so he's doing this for others?........

Kate was more honest when Vivi asked her the same question. She said that despite the fact she had seen many very strange expressions of love today… and she began to understand the difficulties associated with spending her life with one person, but…

It's a very sweet dream… And look at him… he fully shares her dream. But he decided to NOT said it out loud and pretend to be a clown again. Sad…

Don't talk like it's not going to be you or… to be completely honest… already you.

In the epilogue, she thought that she wants Vivi to love her, and the way her heart stops all the time is a great hint of this as well. SO… we are already in the middle of his route. BUT it hasn't been released yet. The paradox.

I will only mention this from the epilogue…

Now I'm curious to see…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[illuminatedquill]

I am loathe to wade into the shipping discourse because it’s not how Severance should be viewed - at least in its entirety - but also the writers, directors, and cast members definitely seem keen on the audience being forced into Mark’s dilemma: Helly or Gemma.

This conflict is woven into the show’s theme and is featured prominently in the intro, even. So it’s hard not to get involved and have thoughts. It’s a deeply uncomfortable topic to consider, which I totally get and, speaking personally, I despise love triangles in stories.

Severance gets a slight pass because they’re actually doing justice to the concept and making it interesting and complicated but I will admit that I’m still not a fan of Mark x Helly. I think they were better off as just friends, with the romance firmly staying between Mark and Gemma.

If you’re not interested in hearing any thoughts about this then feel free to keep scrolling. Otherwise, read on:

Mark x Helly only makes sense to me if it adds weight to the final choice of him staying with Gemma in the end. From my point of view, Helly’s most interesting relationship is with herself - namely, her outie Helena. In this season, that seems to have been sidelined in favor of her romance with Mark which is . . . a choice.

It’s possible that leads to the popular theory that Helly becomes pregnant by Mark, one that I’m personally not fond of, since it makes the relationships even more complicated (and I think the show has enough complicated interpersonal dynamics as it is) but I am giving grace to the Severance writers to handle such a plot line with their usual creativity and keen guidance.

Anyway, I don’t think anyone watching the show with working eyes can deny that Helly is deeply important to Mark and even Gemma, to an extent. If Gemma is the impetus for the show even existing, then Helly is the catalyst that spurs the show’s characters forward with her firebrand personality. She’s exactly what Mark needs right now, and the same could be said about Mark for her. He grounds Helly and gives her a safe space, whereas she gives him purpose and the will to move forward. Mark needs that.

Helly’s presence is what spurs Mark to start the search for Ms. Casey (even if that’s been somewhat derailed this season).

There’s a valid argument to be had that Mark x Gemma, having changed and lost so much because and for each other, would be doomed to a lifetime of misery for choosing to stay with each other. There’s so much tragedy between them, even before Lumon cruelly split them apart.

Helly could be a new start for Mark, free from that pain. Her and Mark’s relationship feels youthful in a stark contrast to Mark and Gemma’s lived-in marriage. That is purposeful; the creators of the show have said that one of the themes for this second season is adolescence. And we know that they go well together, having seen them in action on the severed floor.

But . . . it doesn’t feel true to the themes of Severance if they do go down that route, at least to me. Mark’s central character flaw is his conflict avoidance: his unwillingness to face the hard and painful experiences head-on in an honest and open manner.

Helly is important to him. He loves her. She is what he needs right now.

But it has to be Gemma. Not because he’s married to her or out of loyalty to what they had before. Because that Mark and Gemma are gone. Dead. Neither of them are going back to how things were between them.

It has to be Gemma because that’s the only way either of them are going to truly get out of Hell. Going with Helly would mean not having to face all that hardship and pain and suffering that healing would require. It would mean that Mark and Gemma suffered for nothing.

They have to face it; all the damage done from Lumon, from their own selves, and from each other. Face it together and learn to love and be happy and live together despite it all. And they have to undertake that journey together.

Severance never takes the easy route. It’s making the statement that you cannot sever away the trauma and pain of life without losing your humanity in the process.

Mark x Helly vs Mark x Gemma. It gives more weight to know that, despite having the chance for him to walk away, he still chooses Gemma. That he wants to be with her after everything: the good, the bad, the ugly. To stand by her side and go through it all with love and honesty and faith that they’ll make it through this.

It’s Gemma. Always has and always will be.

(I know there’s the question about what Gemma would want, especially after finding out that innie Mark loves Helly - and if they do go down the pregnancy route, hoo boy. But I think we forget that Gemma is intelligent - innie Mark was born out of a need to forget her. And she knows and understands from painful experience how innies work. If anything, Gemma might be more mad about the fact he chose to get severed rather than him falling in love with another woman, considering memories of him were all that was keeping her going while locked away in Lumon’s dungeon whereas Mark thought creating a version that never knew her was needed to keep functioning. But, all the same, I don’t think watching her fight tooth and nail for almost an hour leaves any doubt in my mind that she would still want to be with him. It wouldn’t be easy to reconcile with but, hey, life and love are messy. It’s the story of everyone. Trying to avoid it deprives you of the full richness of our brief lives and robs it of meaning is what Severance is saying. But if she and Mark survive getting free and clear of Lumon and are open and honest with each other, then they’ll be okay, I think. And, of course, the love is still there, in spite of it all. That’s enough to convince me. It won’t be the same, but it can be good again. I know it can be. After all, winter never lasts forever. Spring always comes again.)

These are my own thoughts, I cannot stress that enough. It’s what makes sense to me. Even though I don’t care for Mark x Helly, I do adore Helly’s character and wish her the best ending possible. But with Helena as her outie, I just don’t see that being a possibility. And, no, I don’t believe that Severance is going to attempt a redemption arc for Helena. Not that the writers couldn’t write a damn good one for her - they certainly could - it’s just that particular narrative would require a huge amount of character work that should take multiple years and seasons to develop properly. You can’t just flip a switch and she’s suddenly Helly, even if she does reintegrate. I just don’t think it’s a story that should be rushed, like how it was with the resolution to Helena co-opting Helly’s bodily autonomy to be intimate with Mark. Fringe did that storyline way better and the reason why is because they had the time and space to do so. Severance does not - not in this current era of streaming shows where everything is condensed to 10 episodes max. Doesn’t matter how good the writers are.

[ki2rins]

⟢ SUGARBOT - pjs

eleven - phone call

warnings: petnames (good girl) , mention of being cheated on, just yn spilling her guts out about her insecurities in the written part.

written wc: 1523 words

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the phone buzzed quietly on the nightstand, loud enough to disrupt your slumber. groggily, you reached for your phone and answered the call. “hello?” you mumbled, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

“hello pretty, enjoyed your sleep?” an unfamiliar voice flowed to your ears, like a tune you had never heard before.

wait this cant be happening…

you sat upright immediately, your heart suddenly racing. your eyes scanned the caller id, and there his name showed “jjongie ෆ”. you thought your mind was playing tricks on you, but no, there it was, the name, the phone call you hadnt expected to see on your screen.

at that moment, the unfamiliar voice spoke up again, breaking the silence. “you awake yet, sweet girl?” his voice had you in a chokehold, your throat tensed up and nothing came out of your mouth when you tried voicing something out.

“um hi…im awake.” you muttered out softly after clearing your throat, dry from both your words and from your sleepiness. your voice felt fragile while your heart beat faster than usual, anticipating what he’ll say next.

the guy on the other side of the line was panicking, jay’s usual calm and composed demeanour faded away. he was like a middle schooler calling his crush for the first time. each word that came out of his mouth spilled out with much consideration, not wanting to scare the poor girl that just woke up.

“so…um i just wanted to wake you up and um…make sure you were well rested before doing your assignments again.” jay quickly said, stammering out of pure nervousness. he tried treating it like one of his daily business calls, but how so when your presence is on the other line?

there was a pause as he hesitated, not hearing a response from you. “im sorry. im pretty sure you werent expecting me to really call you.”

“no jjongie, its okay. its nice hearing from you, makes me more certain that i havent been talking to some random stranger.”

hearing those words made jay’s heart skip a beat. maybe not just a beat. he was hundred percent sure it skipped a couple of beats. you called him jjongie - the nickname you chose to call him by. the specially curated nickname that touched the depths of his heart.

a warm smile spread across jay’s face, the tension in his voice easing just slightly. “thank you, sweet thing. you dont know how much that means to me.” he murmured, his voice softer now. “just didnt want you to overwork yourself. must be odd hearing this from a workaholic huh?”

you chuckled hearing him bring up the joke you made earlier. “come on! you arent letting it go huh!”

you flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, not from confusion or awkwardness anymore, but from the undeniable connection that had been building between you both. you were sure this wasnt just infatuation, you were straight up falling for him. but there was still that underlying sense of disbelief - how could someone just be so nice towards you?

you had your fair share of relationships - puppy love, situationships, talking stages, exes, been there, done that. you ended your last relationship with a classmate named jiwoo six months ago, who unexpectedly cheated on you. at first, he treated you like he was head over heels for you, downbad even, comparable to how jay is currently treating you, which makes you so wary of him, and any hidden intentions he had.

but something about jay just feels different. his genuine care for your well-being felt completely unforced, like something you hadnt felt before, not even from your three close friends.

“are you still there?” jay’s voice broke through your thoughts, warm and a little concerned.

“yea, sorry…just thinking of something.” you replied softly, your voice trailing off as the weight of your thoughts settled in.

“well, care to share whats on your mind then? maybe you’ll feel better after you let it out.” jay said, his tone gentle yet persistent, almost like he genuinely wanted to know what was bothering you.

you hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much you wanted to reveal. but something about how he phrased his words just made him seemed like a safe space to share whatever was weighing on your mind without judgement.

“its just…i dont know. i guess this whole thing just caught me off guard? wasnt really expecting someone or you, to suddenly come into my life and treat me like the greatest gift of all time.” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “i cant lie, i have been treated like this before and after that i just get crushed into gravel, like i was nothing to them. so i guess…im just scared that this ‘whole being nice to me’ thing is just too good to be true. i dont know what you want from me, jjongie. and thats the part i cant figure out, and it scares me.”

there was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a second, you wondered if you had said too much, overshared or even scared him off with the sudden confession of your insecurities. but then jay spoke, his voice steady and reassuring.

“dont be scared, pretty.” that simple sentence from jay could easily sweep you off from your feet, but the fear still stays. but what he says next really stemmed the feelings you have for him.

“heres the thing and i want you to hear this clearly okay? i dont want anything from you, little girl. if i demand something from you, the only thing i want and the only thing that could satisfy me is your happiness. im not here to use you or throw you aside. im not perfect and im not pretending to be, but what i can promise is that im here for you no matter what. for the real you. i want to see you, all of you. no games, no fake feelings and no hidden agendas.”

his honesty hit you like a truck, and you couldnt help but feel a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“i know its hard to trust me since we just started talking to each other, but im determined to win your trust. i want you for you and i’ll show you that i mean it. im not going anywhere sweet thing. when youre ready, i’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

you took in a shaky breath, feeling the knot in your chest slowly begin to loosen. for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down. not all the way, but maybe enough to enjoy this adoration from someone without guilt.

“thank you, jay.” you whispered, the words almost feeling too small for what you were really feeling. “i…i want to believe that. i want-” you paused, unsure if you should really share your true feelings. but a surge of confidence flowed through your body as if it brought the words out of your mouth.

“i want to believe in you.”

there was a soft exhale on the other end of the line, and then jay’s voice, even more gentle now, filled the space between you two.

“you dont have to rush it, sweet thing. like what i always say, you can take all the time you need. im not going anywhere.” his words were soft, softer than the hundred percent cotton pillow you were currently laying on. you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your breath, the calmness in his voice almost making it easier to relax, tempting to make you fall back to dreamland if you could.

“im scared” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “but…i think im starting to trust you.”

upon hearing your words, jay felt his heart warmed up instantly. hearing how you could open up and slowly trust him just made him felt so at ease.

“im honored, pretty, i really am.” jay poured all his sincerity into those six words. “we’ll figure it out together, at your pace.”

your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, and for the first time in awhile, you allowed yourself to believe in the possibility of something pure. for once, you felt that you could let things unfold in their own time.

“thank you.” you whispered again, the words feeling more meaningful this time. “thank you for being patient with me.”

“always, pretty. any place, anytime, just for you.”

the night went on, filled with chatter, laughter and just pure bliss from the both of you. the connection between you two felt more genuine as each word and sentence flowed effortlessly, no longer guarded but completely honest. the uncertainty that once lingered in the air had slowly dissipated, replaced by a warmth that you hadnt expected but welcomed nonetheless.

maybe it was too soon to say, too soon to fully trust as well, but in that moment, you didnt care about anything but just him, and he too, didnt care about anything but just you.

————————————————— rin's yap: my gosh i didnt expect myself to pour my heart and soul into this written part...but really hope yall could see the pure adoration jay and yn has for each other <3

taglist! : open! reply on this post and i'll add you to the taglist

@kaykay11sworld @jvngw0nlvr @meowseong @enhaz1 @jakeswifez @nshmrarki @ice-dandan20 @ziiao @minawannabealone @enhamonsterghoul @d-dilemma @urmomdotcom5678 @starry-eyed-bimbo @r1kixss @jensyed @notab1tchwho @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @jooniesbears-blog @seongiewon @jayyvvhxss @younjo @siimplestar @suhwife @immprettywhenyoucry @machambrx @luvleyylina @maniluvzyou @ezekiel-bublz @lovingjongseong @in-somnias-world @strayy-kidz @xoaumin @wonnieluv @rairaiblog @dark-moon-light02 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @lelestarmy @trinxt @parkjjongswifey @liliansreality @letwiiparkjay @rodelalaland @melodiessvy @millis-diary @antisocialties @jayhoonvroom @nuki-riki @planetmarlowe @k9llgalner @whateveridontcaresheesh

© ki2rins 2025, please do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[mechanical-sunchild]

I don't deny that a science-based approach is fine for the cases above, but there are many kinds of physical alterhumans with many different beliefs. Not all are making claims of shapeshifting*. Is there really no room for discussion of physical-based alterhumanity as truth of any kind, due to the actions of groups in the past and this 'need' for evidence?

I feel *this is a factor which is repeatedly ignored even when directly brought up. Many of you here seem to have a problem with this specific kind of physical nonhuman - the one who claims they can, have, will etc shapeshift into their true form - and only really talk about them as reason why all physical alterhumans require the same treatment.

But what about those who are not saying they have shapeshifted or can shapeshift?

To go back to an earlier statement. There are trans people who say things like; "I am a woman, therefore I have a woman's body. I am a man, therefore I have a man's body." They are speaking in a possessive sense but saying something about their physical perceptions of self too. Would it not be considered rude to tell them 'well actually, scientifically speaking, you are not what you just said. You are physically not a woman/man but it's fine that you see yourself as one internally'.

I'm sure many trans people have personal stories where their mental health was worse when they also made themselves believe that one day they would just wake up in the right body, but our personal experiences should not be applied to every person who experiences a similar thing.

The metaphor is not exact though, of course. I only call back to it because it was used previously.

But let's think of the physical alterhuman whose entire physical claims are the same.

"I am an android, therefore I have an android's body." as I see myself, in fact. I can't prove to you, I suppose, that this is beneficial to my own mental health and not a negative. I know this is scientifically impossible and not technically 'real' in that sense, but I can't stop the way my internal perceptions of self have influenced how I perceive my body too. Holothere is a world that I choose for myself so I can express this. Shall I just not talk about this aspect of myself because it can't be externally scientifically proven? Shall I just pretend I only feel like an android on a non-physical level for the comfort of others? That feels terribly unfair. Other words for what I feel do not match me.

Let's think of the physical alterhuman who believes they have nonhuman ancestors, and therefore are nonhuman themselves because their DNA is nonhuman.

Yes, this is not scientifically provable and never will be. But it is also based on their specific cultural and/or spiritual beliefs in nonhuman ancestry being possible and what influence that would then have on their own self. It feels rude therefore to assume we have the right to tell them that they are wrong due to 'lack of evidence' -like an atheist demanding proof of God before they'll respect a religious person- and should either refer to their experience by a new name which doesn't make call to the physical difference they internally perceive/believe, or else stop talking about it completely.

Let's think deeper, I've seen physical alterhumans who say they are completely physically their 'type, but a magic spell or glamour is stopping it being detectable, perceivable etc by anyone or anything (including themselves). Yes, this line of belief does have the capacity to become dangerous. But it also has the capacity to be entirely beneficial to that person. We can't assume we know which it will be, but we can provide a community which doesn't cause them to go onto the defensive as people tell them to prove something they believe they cannot prove, based on an spiritual belief in magic. It does not involve blindly believing them, but it does involve allowing for them to express this belief openly without attack. In fact, you will drive more people into the arms of those who may turn this belief into something that harms them if you do.

The same goes for those who just say 'I literally have paws, I literally have a tail.' If this eases their dysphoria, the way a trans man may in fact harmlessly refer to his genitalia as a dick despite not having one yet, then who are we to tell them they're 'being dangerous' and 'need to prove it' before they can be left alone and not constantly be told they don't have these parts 'because science'.

Yes, absolutely monitor this person for signs of spreading the more harmful ideas behind p-shifting and absolutely make posts which guard and warn people about being manipulated into things which harm them. But if you see someone saying 'I literally have paws rn' and you see they don't have clinical zoanthropy and aren't talking about a delusion they're having (both of which should not be reality checked by randoms on the internet) you don't have to believe them but you also don't have to go on their posts and say 'No, you don't and I'm not interested in nor am I going to believe in any of the reasons why you may believe that your hands do in fact count as paws instead'. Or vaguepost about them or their experiences or things you're assuming about physical alterhumans.

On the other hand, and I know some physical alterhumans will hate me for saying this but yeah, our physical experiences are due to some internal perception changing how we view ourselves. It's not 'real' in a sense that the world will ever see it. It's real enough to us for sure, and it's literal to us for sure, but it's not literal or real by the laws of this world. But does it have to be, for us to be able to express it and talk about it that way? Many non-physical alterhumans say things like 'I am literally a wolf' and that's fine and nobody in the community tells them 'no you're not literally a wolf, your mind makes you believe you're a wolf. no you're not literally a wolf, your soul is just a wolves soul' and then makes posts about how annoying, dangerous and misguided people who really believe they're an animal are (the few that do are often kff or similar and not a major issue) with the irony being that our internal perception of self can be very easily manipulated too. Yet we understand that in most cases the person can be believed and trusted without harm!

We can change imperfect language amongst ourselves along the way, but the physical community can't thrive and get to that point of clarity whilst everyone else is being told to not even humour us. In fact, encouraged in a lot of cases to tell us what we believe is simply not real so we should stop talking about it completely. In many other cases, assuming we must be either victims or victims in the making, or the perpetrators of harm.

If you actually just want people to learn from past mistakes, to train themselves to not believe everything they see as true outside of those individuals realities especially if it's particularly wild, I feel we're going the wrong way about it by just telling physical alterhumans that they're wrong about their experiences and shouldn't be calling it 'physical' no matter how physical it feels. I'm also going to link kossai's post here for further reading.

And as a final note - I do hope we're all cool with clinical zoanthropes and endels - and don't believe that they are supposed to provide proof of their shapeshifting before they can express themselves. At the very least can we agree on that?

If you’re going to assert science in a community full of people discussing their scientifically unverifiable experiences I think you should consider what you’re really trying to say. If you’re not trying to call people liars then there’s probably a better way to go about making your point than enumerating the reasons why you think they’re lying.

[ryusuisloveinterest]

hey girl!! it's been a while,

I've been having massive stanley brainrot, so may I request Stanley x Reader where reader is one of the scientists in the DARPA expo and was also one of the ones who revived by themselves. Reader and Xeno are like close colleagues and Stanley falls for reader??

Also, how do u feel abt dr stone season 4 coming out next year?! I'm sooo excited honestly!!

I’m so this took so long!!!! I’m loving season 4 so far and Stanley is cooking every time he’s on screen😩 I hope you like it and thank you for your patience bestie💕💕💕💕

Stanley x DARPA scientist reader💝

You’ve worked with Xeno countless times, on different assignments, experiments, and whatever else people at NASA do

Though it still took awhile for you to meet Stanley

I believe Xeno would keep his personal life to himself, keeping the line between his life and work very bolded

But one day he invited you to his house to work on some thing together or because he’s let you cross that line 

You both chat for a while with some tea and treats when some grumpyass soldier barges through the front door 

“Guess what they’re doin now Xeno??? They’re cutting down spending for my branch!! Not only that but my men are leaving left and right! That’s some utter bull-“ 

Stanley pauses when he sees you, his eyes in complete awe at the sight of you 

“Oh um pardon me…” he reaches his hand out for a handshake, “Lieutenant Stanley Snyder, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for that outburst.”

You giggle and introduce yourself as well, “it’s ok Lieutenant Snyder, the government doesn’t treat us that nicely at NASA either”

“Please, just call me Stanley”

Xeno gets the vibe REAL QUICK

He’ll quickly say something like, “oh I need to use the restroom,” or “I’ll go prepare more tea” and just leaves you with Stanley 

After that you’ll see Stanley appear around the office more and more

“Oh sorry y/n I didn’t mean to bug you. Xeno’s office is right around the corner so I thought I’d come say hi”

Xeno’s office is halfway across the building💀

That brings us to the DARPA meeting

Everyone’s discussing the birds and stone and idk what else they talked about lol

But a small break is held

Stanley gives you a drink while you two talk about random things

“Say y/n, maybe after all this shit is over, me and you can go have a little drink together, my treat. What do you think?”

“You better be the one paying, since you’re asking me out~”

A smile breaks out of the soldier

BUT THEN A MYSTERIOUS BIG GREEN LIGHT POPS OUT OF NOWHERE AND EVERYONE GETS TURNED TO STONE😛

3700 years pass when you’re randomly awakened 

You walk around and immediately get a gun to your back

Without fear, you giggle and say, “is this your idea of a first date Stanley?”

His cool helmet falls off and you see the man you’ve waited 3700 years for

He kisses your forehead

“I’ll be sure to make it up to you with much better dates doll~”

You two waste no time in starting to date

Ofc Xeno still need a help working to rebuild, so during the day everyone focuses on working and rebuilding the modern world 

But as soon as the day’s over or works all done, yours his and his ONLY

Like I’m talking bodies constantly touching (whether it’s hand holding, sitting on his lap, cuddling, other things👀)

Always talking to each other, whether it’s deep or not is up to you two

Tries to take you on whatever dates you can in the stone world (dinners, stargazing, crafts, etc.)

While he might cut Xeno off on some of his science rants, but he’d never do that to you 

“Sorry if I’m talking a lot Stanley, I’ll stop it you-“

“No I like your voice, way better than Xeno’s.”

Overall 1000/10 would recommend 

[saintsenara]

Perhaps not the point of your ongoing Snoldemort (Vape?) masterpiece, but I really like how you write Lily. She’s adventurous and determined and charismatic, but also utterly careless about Severus’ emotions and especially his poverty in a way that’s - for those of us who’ve been in the same boat - utterly demeaning. And I think that’s all clearly there in canon too! I know she’s rather underwritten due to her mystery being kept under wraps for 6.95 out of 7 books, but I don’t think she’s *quite* as underwritten as many people think considering she’s only got about 10 lines. So I really love it on the exceedingly rare occasions when she flashes up in fics to be less saintly and more…correct in most respects, but also such a dick about it.

i can't believe i've been foolishly persisting with "snapemort" as the ship name when "vape" was in front of me the whole time.

[a shot of lord voldemort listening to the radio broadcasts of the wizengamot...]

thank you very much for this lovely message about scylla and charybdis, anon! i'm delighted you're enjoying it.

the starting point for her characterisation in the fic was - basically - god forbid a teenage girl not be the most selfless person in history.

i'm always really struck [and completely unsurprised...] that both sides of the fandom debate about snape seem to focus a lot on lily's supposed saintliness. since i'm a snape fan, i end up seeing the anti-lily side of this fairly often - endless rounds of "well if she's so great why didn't she do exactly what snape wanted all the time? why did she simply not accommodate everything he thought? checkmate, snaters" nonsense, which then quickly devolves into "every even mildly negative thought she had about snape was driven by her pure evil"...

but the thing is... even without any of the rest of it - the fact that she's a member of the wizarding world's persecuted underclass and there's a war on, for example - she's allowed to not be constantly thinking about other people's problems. and she's allowed to be annoyed and selfish and uncharitable and rude. and she's allowed to not be constantly filtering her words and actions through every single possible societal nuance in order to make sure she only responds in the most perfect way ever... not least because that's fundamentally impossible.

i like the fact that she never quite gets how snape's poverty changes his engagement with the world - especially in the most recent chapter, when she's thirteen and she thinks she's having a nice time hanging out with her pal and she thinks he's saying what he means when he says he doesn't want anything from the ice cream man, rather than pretending that he doesn't because he hasn't got any money and he finds the idea of admitting that to her to be too humiliating to bear - because it's a situation where neither of them are in the wrong, which i just find much more interesting than the fandom's determination to divide characters who are in conflict into the winner and the loser, or the good person and the bad one, or the person who's right and the person who's wrong.

snape's feelings about his poverty are entirely understandable, and lily clearly hasn't thought as much about it as might be admirable... but it's also his own fault that he doesn't share these feelings with lily, and just expects her to read his mind and modify her behaviour without him offering her any explanation as to why he wants her to do this or offering her any chance to refuse or to ask him to compromise on these desires.

and this lack of honest communication leads to their bigger, much more clear-cut resentments - over james, over mulciber and avery, over dark magic, and - of course - over voldemort. lily's obviously completely correct to say that voldemort is a terrorist and she won't respect anyone who's obsessed with him... the moral argument is black-and-white, lily's the only person who's right.

but the issue is that snape isn't actually arguing from an opposing position. he's not arguing that voldemort isn't a terrorist - he's arguing that voldemort is a terrorist who's also the only person he's ever met who's offering a tangible way for him to get out of poverty. and this is true - both in the fic and, in my view, in the canon text. the material argument is much, much more complicated than the moral one.

lily can't solve these problems - she's just one person, and she doesn't have to risk her own safety to try and deradicalise someone seeking to join an organisation which hates muggleborns - and i don't expect her to have ever been able to do so.

but i also like the fact that - just as snape's major failing in canon is indifference [he can tolerate what voldemort does until it affects him] - the good guys' major failing is indifference too.

the ministry and the order are principled people taking a righteous moral stand against terror... and they also have no idea how the system they're fighting for oppresses all but the elite of wizarding society... whereas voldemort understands this intimately, and he uses it to swell his ranks with disaffected recruits who are looking for someone to blame for their conditions...

[hence why he's the person - even as the text tries to present him as someone whose aims are pureblood oligarchy - who canonically commands the support (or, at the very least, the toleration) of the working classes and the non-human peoples oppressed by the wizarding state...]

but these recruits are nonetheless entirely aware what they're signing up for... they're not joining a legitimate political party, or a union, or an activist group seeking to bring about change through non-violent means... they're joining a terrorist organisation...

but their experience at the hands of the state makes them easy to convince that they've got no other choice...

i like this sort of vicious cycle approach to both the first and the second war because it's so much more interesting than canon's "this is a straightforward battle between good and evil" vibe.

[miffysoo]

super long rant incoming for lads (if you read this i love you to pieces, if not i still love you to pieces): im not always the biggest fan of the reincarnation/past lover trope (which is ironic bc that’s literally the entire foundation of lads lore LMAO) because sometimes it feels like the LI’s are in love with the idea of us seeing as mc in the storyline is the past version of their beloved. i just can’t help but think, like are they actually in love with MC? or are they in love with some other version of her and that’s the only reason they’re drawn to her? it almost feels like they’re projecting who they THINK she is when she’s no longer the same person at all in this current timeline & lifetime.

it almost makes it feel like current mc is “the other woman” in some sense, even though that’s a bit illogical because the past version of her is literally her but so much time has passed, things change, people change, and mc is a completely different person than who she was in their past lives. bc truly, the only one who i feel like truly loves her present day for who she is, is caleb. i would argue zayne to an extent too because he technically doesn’t have any memories whatsoever of his past lives so him and MC falling in love feels like it’s happening for the first time again, it’s a blank slate.

and not to say that the boys can’t grow to love who she is without painting her as her past version, but a part of it feels ingenuine sometimes to me. bc although she shares the same face, the same body, arguably the same soul as her past self, seeing as it’s again, literally her SELF, at the core of it, she’s not actually HER anymore. she’s someone completely different. so sometimes it feels super bittersweet & the lines get blurred. i have a love hate relationship w some of the lads lore for these reasons.

so sorry for the fatass post, but the lore & past life concept in the game always makes me feel hesitant to truly immerse myself into the game (i don’t even actually play the game, everything ik and have seen are from youtube clips that people have uploaded for all the myths, memories, and the overall storyline). this isn’t to say i don’t look forward to new updates and such, i love love lads. but like whenever i indulge in fanfic, especially as a chronic reader of ‘x reader’ fics, i have to separate reader from being MC, which is why i always stray towards non!mc reader bc there’s no tangible lore and past lives/reincarnations attached to a nonmc! reader. at least not to the same extent as the og MC depending on how much the author diverges from canon and just basic background context for reader. but overall imo, non!mc reader just doesn’t carry the same heavy implications of the boys’ true feelings when it’s the actual MC vs a non!mc reader if any of that connected 😔

similarly why i also love iseki/transmigration fics as well; basically any concept where the reader is NOT the mc. bc just like in iseki fics, the boys don’t have the same attachments & feelings towards reader as they do MC. it just feels more sincere imo, idk.

i wonder if im just crazy and have too much time to think & talk to myself about this, or if other players/readers feel the same way. bc ik the whole point of an otome game is that WE are the MC. but ive just never been able to fully immerse myself like that, i see MC as a completely separate character, almost like an OC sometimes. like i just can’t connect or fully enjoy any fanfic with MC being the “reader”. i view MC and reader to be two different people if that makes sense.

and again, im completely aware that as the storyline continues, the boys have obviously shown to care and have deep affectionate feelings (love is a bit too ambiguous imo to truly label that as what they feel for mc) for current mc and its probably only going to strengthen as the story moves forth. but my mind still spirals and thinks about all the “what-ifs” and semantics of reincarnation and past lives. i wish i didn’t think this way, the game and concept of it would probably be more enjoyable all around for me, but i apparently hate myself to think too light heartedly, even for a fictional game/story 😭

truly tho, it’s never that serious, i just had to get that off my chest bc i really don’t know if any other (not sane) person felt this ardent & torn about this as i do, which is a little silly honestly but here we are LMAO 🧍‍♀️ but in the end, there’s something for everyone here in the world of fanfic & delusions! 🫶🏼🫧

[makingspiritualityreal]

The Sun is the positive inheritance from our family line. It is the natural, inborn glow, our effortless legacy and instinctive shine.

For example, someone with a very strong Sun placement can go into the same business as their father, or they inherit a well functioning family business and their father can be a positive authority in their life.

Saturn is the opposite of the Sun. It is the area of your life, where you need to correct things by doing them differently than what you were given, but in a proper way. As a result, Saturn becomes a constructive, realistic critic.

The reason why Saturn is an enemy to the Sun is that you don’t want criticism to obstruct your natural glow and shadow your self expression. You don’t want to have to correct your natural legacy, so you can function. The other issue is, with such an aspect you lack positive role models, as the authority figures in your life did not perform the area of a given house placement correctly. So you need to figure everything out yourself, from scratch, do a lot of psychological digging and make sure you don’t attach to anything incorrect. It becomes your soul’s mission to clear your family karma and it is not a joyous one, and it hampers your spontaneity and delays your natural self expression, as it needs to be researched first to be performed correctly.

To give you an example, I have Saturn in the 4th aspecting my 1st house Sun. Technically, this is not its strongest aspect, and I’ve seen that aspect play out way worse in case of a conjunction or an opposition. Yet, since it’s the only aspect my Sun receives it still impacted my life.

I’m a tall woman, and I always had a naturally strong, glowing physique. I always joke that if I was raised in the USA, I would be the white Beyoncé. However, I was raised with my elderly family members from Poland (although I wasn’t born there) and until my Saturn return, I was bombarded with criticism relative to my natural strength and radiance. Poland has a more patriarchal culture than other western countries. It is now changing very rapidly, but it has been tough on me growing up. My body and my natural buoyancy was always criticized, and people tried to squeeze me into the traditional, diminutive standard of femininity, that is not only outdated but completely contradictory to who I naturally am. As a result, I didn’t get any opportunities to develop my self expression and charisma on a physical level and I wonder if I ever will. Consecutive traumas from other areas of my life and years of unfair shaming from both male and female figures have taken a toll on me. I can’t say I regret it, because I would have never discovered my spiritual gifts without it, and after all someone has to fix things and challenge the status quo, and I’m delighted that my very presence does so, yet it has brought me a lot of pain and made it hard for me to fully find my place in life. I can only feel the difference now, after I got married and have experienced feeling unconditionally validated and desired in my body through marriage. I still know I did not fully bloom into what is possible and I look forward to it.

With tighter Saturn aspects, this process is delayed even further, even into one’s 40s.

To continue with my example, I dress in an alternative way, with a lot of boho elements. Any tall woman with a larger shoe size knows how hard it is to find anything good for yourself. Completing a basic wardrobe that would fit both my taste and my body, complementing myself through that instead of feeling like I should change who I am took me years. For instance, I am gonna be 33 this year and I have just recently completed getting a decent swimsuit collection that I actually enjoy. So with that Saturn aspecting the 1st house of physical body, it took me over 30 years to find decent swimwear.

This was a lot of personal experience exposure, but I hope the level of detail will help you relate to your own experience, relative to your house placement, especially for those with Saturn aspects.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @stobinmonth.

Tell Me Everything

Prompt #1: Gossip | Word Count: 910 | Rating: T | POV: Robin | CW: Weed Mention, Gossiping About Someone's Sexuality | Relationship(s): Platonic Stobin, Background Pre-Steddie | Tags: Scoops Ahoy, Missing Scenes: S3 & S4, Steve's Bisexual Awakening

"I'm so bored!" Robin complains. If she has to be stuck here with Steve Harrington, he can at least entertain her. Scoops Ahoy has been beyond slow all day. Those damn assholes over at Orange Julius have been working hard to steal all their customers. Free samples, without her snarky commentary? Ugh. 

Not that Robin wants more customers. But she also doesn't like to lose, and right now, they're losing.

"Entertain me!" she demands. 

"Well, uh, I guess I have gossip," Steve says, peeling a banana, wandering around the backroom.

"Oh, I'm so sure I'll care about any gossip you might know," Robin says, elbow resting on the table, face in her hand, "But go ahead. Tell me everything."

Steve rolls his eyes, plopping in the chair across from her. He takes a big bite of the banana, and it's disgusting.

"So. You know Eddie "The Freak" Munson? From school?" Steve asks, pointing his surely stolen banana at her. Inventory day is going to be interesting, that's for sure.

"I'm familiar, yes," she says, playing it cool. She's in band with Eddie, and will get to be again next year if the gossip mill is right and he didn't graduate, again. But she doesn't need to advertise that she's in the band to Steve Harrington. He might already know, he should if he pays any attention to anybody else in the world. But she doesn't need to point it out if he doesn't.

"He didn't graduate. I know," she says. This is lame gossip. 

"No, well, yes. I think. But that's not it. Uh, last night I was meeting him out at Skull Rock—"

"Why were you meeting Eddie Munson at Skull Rock?" she asks, raising a pointed eyebrow. She knows why. Pot. But she's needling him, just for fun.

"I wanted to join his shitty band," he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "I was buying weed. Duh. It's the only thing getting me through his summer. But, get this. I get out there, and I hear him having an argument with another guy. Real heated. Up close and personal."

Robin's stomach flip-flops, and she sits back in her chair. She doesn't want him to finish his thought. Because she can see it in his eyes, she knows what he's about to say. Because she can see herself in Eddie Munson, but she definitely doesn't want Steve Harrington seeing it, too.

Steve leans over the table, trying to whisper, but still chewing, "Turns out he's gay, did you know that?"

Robin feels the blood drain from her face, but is determined to power through it, "What makes…what makes you think that?" she asks.

Steve rolls his eyes, taking another big, phallic bite. 

"I just said I saw him. Out at Skull Rock," Steve says, chewing like a cow. How do girls find this attractive? Steve Harrington is a gross boy, not a king.

"You said he was fighting, that's not exactly damning evidence."

He grins, then twists the dagger, "Like, I moved closer. In case I had to help."

"You were gonna help? Who? Eddie? Or the guy he was fighting with?"

Steve doesn't answer, "But then the guy kissed him. Like, kissed, kissed. Eddie pushed him back. But not right away or anything. He liked it."

Robin squeezes her hands together under the table. It's okay. She expected this. It's Steve Harrington. 

"Who was the other—no, nevermind," she says. She doesn't want him adding to this story. He can't just tell everybody about this. He can't. "You're not, like, telling other people this, are you? Just me?"

But there's no further discussion, a customer rings the bell out front, and Steve tosses his banana peel on the table, and picks up the ice cream scoop, twirling it in his hand as he pushes through the swinging door.

"Hi, I'm Steve Harrington. I'll be your Custard Captain."

His lines are getting worse by the shift. 

Robin leans forward and rests her forehead on the table.

She'll just pretend this never happened. 

Not even a year later, Eddie Munson has Steve pinned to the wall of the boat house, broken bottle to his neck, and Robin has eyes. Steve's enjoying it.

Which, gross. 

But also: Well, well, well. 

Steve turned out to be cool with her, of course, and he's her best friend. One drugged bathroom confession, and she has replayed that 'Eddie Munson's gay' gossip session in her head over and over. Steve hadn't actually ever said anything negative. She'd inferred that, for sure, but he hadn't actually condemned Eddie.

Or her. 

He was just stating facts. 

She's the one that assumed the worst. She knows Steve now, and this reaction he's having to Eddie is brand new information. For her, definitely, and maybe even for Steve by the look in his eyes.

Once the dust had settled, she steered him away from all the prying ears.

"Well, that was interesting," she says.

"Yup," he croaks, still looking a bit shaken. 

"Now you wish you'd had a different experience out at Skull Rock last summer, don't ya?"

And he nods, fervently, and she can't wait to see how this bisexual awakening plays out. If she thought he was embarrassing himself like a fool in front of girls at Scoops Ahoy, she can't even imagine how dumb he'll make himself look in front of Eddie Munson.

She just knows she wants a front row seat, and a fresh dry erase marker.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @stobinmonth to follow along with the platonic soulmate fun!