#actual review I read: 'it was so bad I had to take breaks'

[lulu2992]

I watched Rebel Moon: Part One – A Child of Fire and… it really doesn’t deserve the torrent of hatred I’ve seen it receive online.

It’s not a perfect movie, sure, but I’d say it’s an honest one; I feel like I saw exactly what I was told I would get. Even though it doesn’t have the most original story, it’s not bad, and it already has a very dense (but easily digestible) lore, as well as many creative and original designs. Plus, this was only Part One, and they said a longer, R-rated version would also be released at some point, so we’ve only seen maybe one-third of the story…

Creating an entirely new fictional universe that, although it’s inspired by many others (and this was never hidden), isn’t part of an existing franchise with an established lore, is hard and ambitious, and the film was clearly made with care and passion, so I for one welcome the effort.

Rebel Moon has potential, and I want to see more of it. When Part 2, The Scargiver, releases, I will be there!

[star-stilinski]

stiles with virgin reader? maybe she's like insecure or like is just scared he'll look at her differently 😩😩 everytime i watch the eichen house basement scene i literally die because he is so sweet and gentle and GHRHHSHEHDH

okay so i actually have that written from before i deleted my blog... would you guys want me to write another?! i'll repost the one i have but this concept is really super fun to me and i like writing it a lot so... maybe you guys would want to see more?? anyway here's the old one!

☆

yep, stiles is perfect. dominant, but just to guide you. observant and overly educated (he once spent an all nighter researching female pleasure and orgasms. he stayed a virgin for a long time after, but at least he knew!). he wants you to feel good.

i feel like he had a conversation with allison once when she was really frustrated with scott where she basically ranted about how he was great in bed, really, but he sometimes got too excited and forgot about her until later. or his wearwolfness made him a bit rough. stiles just kinda stood there, but he was determined to keep that from being his reviews when he finally got laid. it was very educational.

set right before season 4.

you're reading up on the spanish mafia on your bed while stiles types away on his computer with one hand and breaks to texts scott with the other. he seems to be especially stimulated today.

"i think my excuse will be that we're camping." he mumbles randomly, setting his phone down face-up to take a swig from your water bottle. you frown. he smiles. "when we go get derek."

"for your dad?" you set the library book on the floor and scoot up on your bed, sitting back against the pillows.

"yeah. he's all worried i'm isolating myself after... everything. so he'll like that anyway. hey, scott invited us to the lake later tonight, wanna go?" your boyfriend talks so quick you almost get dizzy. that subject change was so stiles though, and seeing him as himself after those worrying days of the possessed, zombie-eyed shell of a man he was makes your chest feel fuzzy.

but at the mention of swimming, you glance away from him. you hadn’t been feeling super awesome about your body lately. It’s just… stiles is amazing, really, but he never says much about your looks and you’re scared he’s not into that part of you. It’s not like you need to be constantly hit on, but knowing that he wanted you in every way would be… well, it would make you feel better than you do.

so you hesitate, at the thought of being in a swimsuit in front of everyone. “uh, i dunno, i have a lot of homework.”

he laughs and his eyebrows shoot up. "what? we got ahead on, like, everything. did you fall behind again?”

"okay, first off, we did not get ahead on everything. we did everything due this week. you’re just used to waiting until the night before to rush through. second of all, i’m not really feeling the lake right now.”

“why not?” he frowns, tilting his head at you. you roll your neck and sigh, wishing you hadn’t said anything. It was so annoying to try and explain it.

“i mean…” you shift uncomfortably on your bed. “i don’t know. i’m just feeling weird lately.”

stiles stands, grabbing a stray pen to fiddle with as he stretches his legs, pacing your bedroom floor. "yeah, that's what you say, don't you? that you’re feeling ‘weird’.”

"you're weird." you deflect, watching him pace. he likes it when you do that, you both realized one day a long time ago when his hair was buzzed and you had braces. a lot has changed since then, but he still liked to know that you’re listening when he has to move around.

"and yet here you sit, after inviting me over to listen to me ramble." he teases back, throwing you a look before turning to walk the other side of the floor. he scans the pictures and posters on your wall, back turned to you. "seems like my weird is good weird and yours is bad weird."

you're thankful he isn't watching as you flush a light pink color in the cheeks. it's the stupidest stuff getting you flustered recently. the other day he said 'atta girl' to you and you were still blushing ten minutes later. kira actually thought you were sick. 

you know why. Part of you just wants to ask him, but a larger part of you assumes that -even as his girlfriend- he’ll be grossed out if you asked to have sex. He’s just not into you like that.

stiles swivels around to look at you, frowning curiously. "you went quiet."

"oh, um," you shift on the bed and fiddle with the hem of your shirt. he watches you do so with a look on his face before stepping closer to the edge of the bed while you scramble to remember what you were talking about. "your weird is tolerable weird."

he smirks and scoffs but it's kind of a laugh, one that makes your stomach swoop pleasantly. "what makes yours bad weird?"

"it’s nothing, sti’.” you fiddle with one of your stuffed animals, growing antsy under his gaze. “just thoughts.”

you feel the bed dip beside you as stiles sits, feeling his shoulder brush with yours. there's plenty of room on the bed. you know he did it on purpose.

"i like to know your thoughts.”

"yeah, well, sometimes i prefer to keep them in my head." you huff, still not looking at him. “and anyway, they’re just-”

"weird?" he interrupts and you look up at him. he's smirking, brows up, eyes sparkly.

you frown at his cockiness. you were going to say weird, but still. you can hear him silently asking you to elaborate.

"you’re not allowed to get all pitying, okay?" you feel yourself about to spill anyway, so you might as well tell him. it would usually take a lot more encouragement for you to say anything, but it's stiles and he's using his stupid pretty eyes on you and you trust him with your life. “lately i just feel kinda… just like, um, not great, i guess? i’m just scared i’m not doing enough for you, or something’s wrong with me because you never say anything about my looks and i dont need you to, but if you’re unsatisfied i want to change that because i want you to be happy in every area to do with me.”

stiles is silent for a moment. you look up and catch him look away from you. he frowns and looks back, meeting your gaze head on.

"that's not weird.” he says, quietly, brows upturned. “you… wow, you’re dense.”

you laugh abruptly at the jab stiles pulled, embarrassed. "stiles! I’m not upset or anything, i just dont want you to not be into the way i look. which might be unrealistic, i guess. not everyone is going to be physically attracted to me. that's fine."

"you say that a lot." his tone drops to something more thoughtful. you give him a face and tilt your head.

"what? no i don't."

"yeah, you do. 'oh, well, lydia's the beauty out of all of us anyway.' 'malia, you should dance with kira to blend in. that would be casual and guys will find you two hot, anyway.' 'that isn't my color.' 'i'm breaking out.' 'i'm bloated.' 'i don't think anyone would want to see me in something that revealing.'"

you feel heat crawl up your neck as he quotes stuff you've said the past few weeks. you scramble to make him wrong. "stiles, literally all of those were different sentences."

"no, they were not." he shifts, like he's revving up to explain something. you press yourself against the pillows to create space between you two. he notices. "you keep saying you think you're ugly. just the other day, a girl you didn't even know came up to you and said you were pretty and when she walked away you said she was lying. i remember, you were convinced. thought it was just to be nice because you had let her cut you in line for drinks. it was at the movies."

you look away from him, narrowing your eyes. you're embarrassed right now, and he knows. why isn't he stopping? "she was lying, stiles. you're a guy, you can't see that stuff like girls do."

"i'm a guy, i'm not blind." he gets hotter in his voice. both in tone and in attractiveness, getting sterner. saying 'i'm right' without saying it. "are you blind? you're so pretty. like, objectively."

"stiles, can you drop this? I shouldn’t have said anything." you curl in on yourself, drawing your knees up to hide your body. you feel so exposed, like he tugged the part of you out that you don't really like to talk about.

stiles goes soft. like a flip being switched, he loses his fight and shifts to face you better, placing a hand on your knee. "hey, i'm sorry."

you desperately want to go back to when he was a safe distance away and pacing your room and teasing you. you hate it when you ruin the mood with your feelings. you hate how much you love it when he touches you, especially since he'd never want you the way that you want him.

"it's fine, i promise." you claw around your brain for something to change the subject, but you feel it short circuit as stiles' hand begins to hold your cheek. he lifts your chin to look at him. you feel your cheeks flame hot and your whole body warm at his touch. you stare at him as you feel your resolve practically melt away.

"do you think you're pretty?" he asks, curiously. like you're something he doesn't fully understand yet, but he's on his way and he's getting excited to speed up the process. it makes you nervous.

"umm... i don't know..." you don't think so. you're very confident that you're ugly. but telling stiles that is letting him win. and you don't know what you'll do with a cocky stiles when he's already ballsy enough to corner you like he is now.

"i do." he says with finality. stiles gets closer and his hand leaves your cheek, only to part your legs gently and crawl in between them. "i think you’re hot. and pretty. and when you focus you nibble your lip and it kinda makes me want to pin you to the nearest flat surface and eat you out.”

now your legs are on either side of stiles and he's leaning over you, eyes roaming over your face hungrily. you stutter dumbly for a moment, face flushed and feeling like a cornered bunny getting stared down by a wolf. his scent becomes stronger and you resist the urge to ask him to do just that, opting instead for feeling like a gross creep and fretting if you’ve shaved well enough.

"you don’t have to say that..." you trail off, still flustered at stiles' boldness. "i just didn't really know what you thought about my looks, i guess. b-but i guess that’s kinda conceited, huh?" you laugh weakly at your joke. stiles doesn't laugh at all. instead, he watches you quietly for a moment, a hand landing on your knee again.

"i don’t say anything because i never want you to feel uncomfortable." he states breathily. you squirm under him as he leans forward, a determined look in his eyes. “do you want me to tell you what i think about you?”

"stiles, c'mon." you turn your head away. maybe you can resist this question by acting pathetic. it's not really working, and stiles just gently guides your chin so that you're looking at him again. he knows the answer. he kinda has to, doesn't he? otherwise he wouldn't be doing this.

"I want to hear you say it." he looks into your eyes like it would actually literally kill him if you said no. you feel that rush you get when he talks like this, all quiet and deep like he's breathless. and despite you thinking that stiles thought of you as a low-physicality girlfriend, you find yourself nodding slightly.

"yes, i do."

stiles sighs out like you just healed every one of his wounds and leans forward, shifting himself so that he's propped on his hands and knees above you. one hand moves to your waist and the other holds his weight as he leans down.

the kiss sends a spark down your spine. as he goes back in again, kissing you harder, deeper, gently guiding your mouth open, you think it's better than any other kiss you've experienced. his hand inches your shirt up to reveal your stomach and he pulls back.

"you're beautiful. okay? i feel like you're not hearing me. i want you to see it." he says, still upset about that. you're still a bit flustered by the quick change of events, so you don’t respond.

he frowns at your lack of response but it softens as your hands slide onto his neck, pulling him down again. he smiles and goes back in for another kiss.

this one's even more than the last. stiles' tongue... well, it works. that's all you can describe as he makes you gasp in surprised pleasure from just a kiss. you can feel his slightly cocky smirk as he kisses again, but it gets lost when you rake your nails lightly against the back of his neck. he manuvers you both further down the bed so you're laying more comfotably and kisses you deeply again, like he can't get enough. 

he presses his knee up against your core as you kiss and it sends a pulse of pleasure up your body, making you pinch your brows. stiles pulls back abruptly, and you're both panting. you can see your spit making his lips glisten prettily and you want to hide under the covers and pull him back into you at the same time.

"hey," stiles dawns a little smile. it's sweet, and when he tugs at the hem of your shirt gently your heart flutters. "can i take this off?"

you pause at that. if he takes your shirt off, he'll have to see you shirtless. you didn't wear a nice bra today, just the grey t-shirt bra you got at walmart. but he wants to see you shirtless. and you want to see him shirtless.

then again, you’re no pornstar-level body. maybe stiles will be disappointed. or laugh. no, no, he won’t laugh. but if he doesn’t like it, he won’t say anything, and you’ll be stuck wondering what he’s thinking again...

"i can hear you overthinking, you know." stiles' big palm lands on your bare waist, his thumb rubbing your skin softly. "we can stop if you want."

you meet his eyes. he looks like he really means it, like he'll pretend none of this happened if you asked. his hand leaves your waist, cups your cheek, and his thumb presses against your bottom lip softly. you breathe in. "i don't want to stop."

he nods, smiling. it's crooked and you almost giggle because of course stiles is excited to keep making out. and then his gaze shifts and he takes his hand off your cheek to tug on your shirt again. his brows lift in question.

"uhm, yeah." you nibble your lip. fuck it. "take it off."

"that was not enthusiastic enough."

"i-?! don't blame me if you don't like what you see! i just don't want you to be unimpressed!" you squeak defensively. he laughs and pulls you up just enough to lift your shirt off.

"you can be so obtuse sometimes." he mumbles as he tosses your shirt out of the way. you're propped up on your forearms when he turns back around and you can practically hear the breaks in his brain screech to a halt.

his eyes roam your body in a way that makes you flush and his hands aren't much better, spreading over your now-exposed middle like they have a mind of their own. he lets out a breath and blinks a few times, one hand sliding up to cup your bra. “s’ this okay?”

you swallow and nod. it is. really. you like the way stiles’ hands feel on you and how his eyes track over you like he wants to devour you but doesn’t want to hurt you. you like how eager he is to touch you. it makes you feel like maybe he really wants to.

he leans over you and presses a kiss to your neck. you tilt your head back on instinct as he grows more persistent, pressing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and nibbling your neck to pull a sound out of you. you gasp when he nibbles your earlobe and he reacts positively, hands getting more confident as he cups your breasts or you waist or whatever he can get ahold of.

you feel him press his knee up against you again and it makes you jolt momentarily. your thoughts are getting hazier, you feel yourself relaxing every second you spend underneath him. his hand travels up your back and finds your bra clasp and he kisses down your collarbone as he undoes it.

“you’re so pretty.” he starts, pulling back. you blink up at him as he sits over you. “you are, I don’t care what you think. I can’t believe you’re so convinced otherwise.”

he pauses, giving you time to reject him or tell him to stop or do anything. instead, you tug at his shirt, pulling it up.

he takes it off immediately and you press your hands against his bare skin. “stiles, i’ve never done anything before. I’m not gonna be good.”

he scoffs and shakes his head, toying with your loose bra strap. it’s still on, unclasped. he’s waiting.

“you’re doing so good right now, idiot.” he hums affectionately as he traces the seam of your bra, fingers brushing your breast. you suck in a breath. he watches your chest rise. “i’ve, um, thought about this before. a lot. and it’s ten times better having you under me than daydreaming about it.”

you blush at that. he traces the underside of your breast, fingers slipping under your bra to feel your skin. “I want to make you feel good.” he whispers, meeting your eyes. you nod slowly, fingers running along his abdomen as you admire him.

“you do?” you ask, as if he wasn’t practically pinning you to the bed already. he nods eagerly and it spurs you on. you shift, slowly pulling your bra off. he helps you and tosses it away with your shirt, but his eyes never leave you. instead, they dart all over your chest, hands cupping your tits. he sighs and his thumbs swipe over your pebbling nipples, making you squeak in shock.

“you’re so beautiful. ‘m gonna make you believe it, okay?” he says with finality, maneuvering so that he can kiss your breasts. you gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple and he pulls up just to envelop your mouth. “you sound so pretty. just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

you’re embarrassed at how easy it is for you to make noise and how eager you are to listen to his instructions. you sink into the pillows and let your eyes flutter shut as stiles kisses you. it's soft and slow, but it makes you a puddle anyway.

stiles gets the both of you down to your underwear shortly after. his hands are incessantly gentle and when he does something new he leaves a sort of gap for you to tell him to stop.

you never do.

he's mouthing at your neck when he first presses his long fingers against your clothed clit, and you sigh lightly in relief. the pressure was more than enough and you had completely soaked through your panties anyway. he pulls away from your neck to watch you as he rubs a slow circle against your nerves, humming in approval when your lips part and your brows pinch.

"does that feel good?" he questions quietly, still rolling a circle against you with his middle finger. you nod and hear him swallow as his eyes roam from your exposed tits to your wet spot and everywhere in between, locking eyes with you at the end.

"i can't wait to hear you. you're gonna sound so good." he mumbles, mostly to himself as he slowly pulls your panties off. you whine in embarrassment and cover your face with your hand.

"don't say stuff like that!" you huff, scrubbing your face like it will make the blushing subside. "you're getting your hopes up."

"jesus christ." he groans, and it sounds super fucking hot. you peek through your fingers and see him looking at you like you've wounded him. "you've exceeded every single one of my very high hopes i've been getting off to since freshman year so far. you-i mean, look at what you're doing to me."

he gently takes the hand you're using to cover your face and guides it against his bulge. he's hard as a rock, and when you press your hand against him he tilts his head back and sighs out. "seriously, you're so gorgeous. and you're a great kisser. you're doing so good. i mean..."

with your panties off and him in between your legs, he has easy access as he slides two fingers through your slick. you can both hear it in the quiet of the room and you feel that heat rush of embarrassment again, eyes widening as he literally moans. "you're so wet. just for me."

and as he presses his finger to your clit, it feels ten times better than it did with your panties on. you gasp and your eyes flutter closed as you whimper "god," completely on accident. his hands aren't amazingly skillful, but the way he watches your reactions and tweaks his performance, fucking a finger into you and keeping his pace on your bundle of nerves-it's almost hotter than a guy who isn't looking to improve, because stiles is adjusting things to your preference. not just what every woman would generally like.

"how's it feel, pretty girl?" he hums against your stomach, kissing down your body. you don't know what the hell he's doing but most of your mental focus is on how stiles is making you feel, anyway.

"feels good, sti'," you gasp, feeling his mouth against your thigh. he moans when you say his name before sucking a hickey onto your inner thigh. your eyes snap open and you prop yourself up to look at him, eyes wide. "are you leaving a mark?"

stiles looks up at you, and then at your neck, and then your tits. he pulls away from your skin slowly and mumbles "uhm..."

"whatever, just... don't make it ugly. hickeys can look so weird." you flop back against the pillows and sigh, but your thoughts are cut short as stiles-

"oh, fuck," you moan, rolling your hips against stiles' tongue unconsciously as he presses his mouth on your clit. he flicks his tongue and you gasp out another moan, hips lifting.

his big hands land on your bare hips and press them back down, holding them there as he looks up at you. meanwhile, his tongue is laying claim on you in a way no one ever has, and he's making you feel better than you ever have. you sit up on your forearms to watch him and he sucks on your clit, making your eyes roll back. "stiles, oh god, that feels really good-"

he moans at your noises, mouth moving with more fervor against you, hands pulling you closer to him. he's doing everything perfectly, or so you thought, until he pulls a hand away from your hip and presses two fingers inside of you. it's a stretch, but it feels amazing, and your brain is fried as you feel yourself hurtling towards that edge-

and then he pulls back.

you look down at the speed of light, glaring at him on accident. "wha-? why-?"

his eyes are dark, something you haven't seen in them before. his mouth is covered in your arousal and he's sitting up, leaning over you. "i really want you to finish with me inside you. does... is that...?"

your previous annoyance falls away and you bob your head enthusiastically. "yeah. yes. please."

he grins and licks some of your slick off of his lips before kissing you sweetly. when he pulls back, you look down to take his boxers off but realize he took them off already. you also realize you've never seen stiles' dick before.

"your staring is making me nervous." he teases, rubbing your thigh. you blink and look back up at him, smiling sheepishly. he smiles back, and it's crooked, and he's tilting his head and panting and sometimes his eyes are wandering to your tits before snapping back up to your eyes. and.

"you're the hottest guy in the whole world, i think." you hum, reaching up to cup his cheek. his eyes go wide and he laughs, kissing your palm.

"is my dick that big?"

"not what i meant."

"it could be."

you laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. "'s it gonna hurt?"

his eyes go soft, a bit worried. "proabably for a second, but we'll go at your pace so you can stretch out properly, and if it's too much i can just finish the way i started, kay?"

you nod. stiles would never, ever hurt you. and with the way he's looking at you and how he moans when you feel good and how his hands always have to find a way to pleasure you... something in you switches and you realize he really wants you to like this. that he's being honest when he says he's thought about it a lot.

so as he quickly rolls on a condom (which included him admitting that he usually grabs one before he leaves to see you) and presses into you -slowly, slowly- you try your best to relax against the pillows. it's not unbearable, but you have to ask him to pause sometimes. he always does, and layers praises on top of each other while he does it.

"you're doing so well. just breathe, okay? just like that. holy shit, you feel amazing- b-but how do you feel? you alright?" he rambles halfway inside. you nod, breathing deeply.

"it actually feels... good..." you close your eyes and pull on his waist, urging him forward slowly. he bottoms our and gasps out a moan at the same time you do, feeling him reach the spot you're never able to. his hand snakes in between the two of you and presses against your clit. you gasp out his name, tilting your head back. it's almost too much.

almost.

as you urge him to move, he presses slow circles against your bundle of nerves and kisses any patch of your bare skin he can get ahold of.

"just relax, baby- fuck, god, you know how may times i've thought about this?" he pulls out slowly and pushes back in, and all of his stimulating mixed with his moans and his words... he's doing a good fucking job, that's for sure.

you moan when he moves a little quicker, gasping. he presses his tongue into your open mouth and kisses you sloppily, going a bit faster with every thrust. you whine when he flicks your clit almost crudely, pressing your head back against the mattress and gasping, "faster, sti'"

he obeys without further encouragement, snapping his hips a little quicker than comfortable. you feel your body adjust and watch stiles as he leans back to admire you.

his eyes rake over you, one hand cupping your breast and kneading it softly. he lets out a higher pitched moan than you've heard from him when he sees the point where your bodies connect, slowing his thrusts just to watch. "you're perfect, i swear to god."

you can't respond, not when he's already leaning down to overstimulate your nipples. your brain feels like it's in the other room and has been replaced with stiles' hands, almost solely focused on his kneading of your tits and his circling of your clit. his mouth makes its way back up your neck and he kisses you again, still with very little concern for the proprieties of it.

it's sudden, the feeling that crawls up on you as his hips snap quicker and praise falls from his mouth in between kisses. you gasp for air and tug his head back by pulling his hair, causing a loud moan from him that you'll have to unpack later. you're arching your back, whimpering "faster, faster," squeezing your eyes shut as you feel that sweet release low in your belly. he speeds up his hips, but more importantly his fingers on your clit. your vision goes white for a split second as you cry out, chanting his name like a prayer. you hear him moaning too, and it only helps you as he rides you through your orgasm.

"holy shit," you gasp as you come down. he nods, pulling out of you carefully, and you both lock eyes. you're smiling and he's kissing you and everything feels kind of perfect for a split second. then you remember him, and feel like an idiot. "oh, did you, i totally forgot, did you-"

"don't worry," he laughs sheepishly and glances away from you. "i did. it was, um, when you pulled me away from kissing you."

"when i pulled your hair?" you ask incredulously. he buries his face into your neck and groans.

"maybe we should focus on you again." he kisses up your neck and all over your face. "you did so good, you're so perfect and pretty and oh my god you thought i wasn't attracted to you. you're so out of it sometimes."

"stop insulting me! you never said anything!" you defend, slapping his shoulder. he laughs and cups your face.

"i'm going to say every thought i have now. okay?"

"i feel like this isn't going to end well..."

he grins mischievously. "you look so good when you're cumming. let me make you make that face again?"

you close your eyes and sigh. "yeah, i knew it. this is going to be the death of me."

he laughs, loudly, excitedly, and kisses you. "it's funny how you think death will help. i bet you'd be a sexy ghost. oh, fuck, now i'm thinking about that. yep, it's hot."

you shout and push him off of you, laughing.

☆

when i wrote this originally, i wasn't super happy with it. even now i'm like... ehhh.... i dunno.... so if you guys want more of stiles with virgin/inexperienced reader, i have a lot of ideas and would totally post some if given the 'okay' from my fellow stiles lovers! let me know!!

(please say you want more because i want to make more lowkey tho just lowkey like idec but please)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[variousqueerthings]

okay I watched good omens s2 yesterday with my partner, and I was genuinely very surprised -- I think if you've grown up through superwholock/merlin/the 100/teen wolf type shows where (with the exception periodically of doctor who) you kind of had to make up the good show that something could have been in your head, that colours a lot of your viewing, and to be honest I thought season 1 of good omens was a fine little piece, honoured the book while modernising it somewhat, it was a nice, fun, low stakes time, with a couple of things I might have wanted a tad different but nothing overall awful.

so I was seeing all this meta and gifsets and discussion, while I was waiting to give s2 a watch with my partner and thought "ah, people have made up the good show in their heads again" not that I assumed s2 was going to be a bad show, but that people were taking extra deep plunges into possibilities, the way fandom does, and that was fine. I knew there was a big ol kiss, I had a sense of some kind of argument at the end, and that it was setting up a s3

I also knew that mainstream reviews were calling it (politely) self-indulgent and dependent on whether or not you enjoy david tennant and michael sheen having a good time for just under 6 hours

all in all, expectations of a somewhat mainstream show without too much to think about, a nice, fun low stakes time, moving on...

(EDIT: AND THEN I WROTE A LOT OF WORDS SO YOU CAN IMAGINE THAT MY REACTION WAS QUITE DIFFERENT)

as it turns out it seems these things that were being written on tumblr were discussing the actual text of the show and not things you could extrapolate if you squinted and tilted your head a little to the left as I'm so used to doing, so in fact there is much to think about!

and my first thought was "this is like when you read early discworld books that ask a question like a joke, only to find that over time the answer to that question becomes very serious (and also can be funny at times of course)." how terry pratchett would pick and pick at tropes and notions and social ideas and go "oh now hold on, this seems strange..." starting way back when he thought it was odd that women warriors always seemed to be dressed in metal bikinis and then realising he hadn't done a good enough job of subverting the trope, simply by depicting it and calling it a bit silly

why do goblins always get treated as the villains? what's with this divine succession of kings business? where are the female dwarfs? who do we treat as disposable?

good omens season one went: "haha what if heaven and hell were intensely incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring of the work they did, and we took an angel and a demon and had them actually care? wouldn't that be... a bit silly?" (and it was)

good omens season two went: "what are the consequences for caring when the people who have power over you are incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring? what are the forces that supersede systems built on fear, ignorance, and violent conformity? can people change and break out of/challenge/break down these structures by caring?"

and this was set up with a neat little sleight of hand (to reference aziraphale's switch-and-bait in the episode with the nazi zombies), because the majority of season 2 does feel a bit indulgent: hey, remember those two wacky angel-and-demon characters? watch some more wacky things they did through the ages, watch them take a sojourn through 1827 Edinburgh and do a magic show during the Blitz, and... stop the death of Job's and Sitis' children (actually maybe that whole segment ought to have been what they call "A Clue")

see them try to figure out a kooky mystery, all the while setting up a cute little same-gender romance on their street. watch as everything points towards a happy ending that's all about the two of them realising what they've been to one another all these thousands and thousands (and thousands and thousands) of years- but hold on. lest we forget - and the show has made this point over and over - there are powerful people who control them, who hurt them, and who plan on hurting others, throughout the whole season, and as it turns out they know what they've been to one another for far far longer, and know how to pull their strings...

season 2 then, has to show us these things, not because they're indulgent (well, maybe occasionally, but the apology dance is still important), but because in order to make the ending a tragedy, we first need to understand, properly, the impact that they have had on each other. we need to understand that Aziraphale relied heavily on Crowley to be his moral compass and leaned on black-and-white thinking in order to deal with things, because if it's all grey then where does he fit and what has it all meant and heaven has to be the good guys, even as Job's and Sitis' children are ordered to be killed, it's all he ever had...

and Crowley was always an anchor, needed to trust that Aziraphale was different, needed to bend to every whim that Aziraphale has, because otherwise what's his worth in all this? After having been already deemed worthless by the heaven that Aziraphale needs to believe in?

and that, simplistically described, is the narrative that we're seeing in s2, and alongside that the ways that the changes they have upon each other are noticed, and monitored, and placed under suspicion, and finally... broken up, not by the clumsy, brute force that's been attempted over and over again, but by a promise to return into a violent, controlling system and to "make it better from within"

and all of this is wrapped up in two queer relationships + a third queered-within-the-text relationship that creates the inverse of how it ends for Aziraphale and Crowley (so far). queer love -- whatever shape that has -- is explicitly the shape of non-conformity within this narrative, including within the symbolism of angel-and-demon love of Gabriel and Beelzebub, which in the context of the systems created is considered queer (and one can argue till the cats come home about casting cis actors, about angel-and-demon notions of gender/romance/sexuality, but the "queerness" comes from building something non-conforming to the systems they exist in), and enforced by the explicitly our-world-definition-of queer romance that Nina and Maggie have going on (which, while less high stakes, still contains the background controlling relationship that Nina initially is in)

all of this to say, that I disagree that s2 meanders, or that plotlines happen for the sake of showcasing Aziraphale and Crowley without purpose, or that characters get sidelined (I'd say it sets up a whole host of interesting characters to further get into actually), or that it's strictly mainstream easy-access narrative that's just an excuse for the main creators and actors to get back together.

the love is the point, and this show takes its time to show the love (and the unequal boundary-setting, and the fact that one of them has an undiscussed tragic backstory, and the desperation to belong again, and the fear instilled by oppressive systems, and and and), so that we understand why those last 15 minutes happen the way that they do

it's sleight of hand, and like all good magic, you don't notice until it's happened

[inkskinned]

okay yes it's often bad and hard and sometimes i am so anxious my whole body feels like it's vibrating but also at the same time the gps took me a different way on my drive and i got to see more of the river than i usually do and yesterday the sun was still above the horizon after 7pm and that was amazing and the whole sky turned an orange-gold like how they try to make ice cream taste; you know, one of those evenings that just tears you open no matter how jaded you get. it's warm for the first time here and people had lined up against the water just to stand outside and watch the sunset

and yeah it's tax season no i haven't done mine yet but when i mentioned it offhand in a single side-comment three days later my friend sent me a list of helpful tips and followed up to see if i'd need help on them

there's this parking lot for a walking trail near where i live and one of the two google reviews is my actual favorite: love it here. there were so many beautiful parking spots but sadly we could only take one. and no this person isn't going to go viral and probably the only people navigating to this spot are extremely local - but there's something so precious to me about someone taking the time to write something that will make strangers in their community laugh, even though there's no way for me to tell them good one! directly

yes i am not doing well sometimes i'm doing even very-badly but recently i have been given enough breathing room to say okay, this situation is bad, but then it will be over, and you will be moving onto the next thing and it's true that i need to get groceries and pay rent and argue with my health insurance but it is also true that in the absolute stress and anarchy of my life today someone recognized my dog before they recognized me and was so excited because "they tell everyone about the greyhound in the area and didn't get a picture before so can they take a picture now please"

in class we all stand in a circle and are all grown adults and for a moment while the teacher is figuring something out, we all hold hands, just to be silly and connected. for no reason at all at 8pm on a thursday my friends and i start breaking out the dance moves to high school musical. my coworker gchats me during a meeting about the book he recommended to me and i'm enjoying reading

i help a high school set up for a star-themed dance and while putting up streamers i find graffiti that says if you're reading this, i love you, and we're both going to get out of here right next to fuck everyone, live out of spite, don't let the fuckers make you die. on the bridge where i walk my dog someone has written i love you and on the sidewalk in chalk someone has written i love you and on the side of the water tower someone has written i love you

at the bottom of a text post an internet poet says - i love you, i love you, i love you. i've never met you, i love you because you exist and we exist together. and isnt that enough for now. just for this moment, i mean. like, if you just close your eyes and breathe - somewhere, across this world, i love you, because you're here with me.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Why Writing Is So Lonely | Rin T.

Hello writers, and anyone else who uses Tumblr on a daily basis like me. (Although I’ve been inactive off and on.) It’s me, Rin, and I wanted to talk about something that I think a lot of us struggle with. Or at least anyone, and everyone who considers themselves writers.

The loneliness that can come with the writing life and being a writer. We spend so much of our time alone. It doesn’t matter if you're using your laptop or scribbling in notebooks. Or pacing around in your living room and muttering dialogue to yourself (which I'm completely guilty of.)

Writing is really a solitary passion, and it hasn't just recently been like that. I'm sure Jane Austen and Edgar Allen Poe dealt with similar feelings. And sometimes that isolation can take a real toll that many of us choose to ignore, both on our creativity, our passion, which I assume is writing in this case, and our mental health.

I’ve been writing for about 4 years now, mostly working on my own little passion projects that I plan on publishing and side hustles, not only for my writing project but also my blog (TheWrite AdviceForWriters). I’m currently knee-deep in 4 different novel drafts that I’m absolutely in love with. However, let me tell you. It can get Very lonely a lot of times. There are days when I feel like I’m the only person in the world who cares about these made-up characters and their fictional problems. The characters I create in my mind are so vivid that they seem like the only individuals who actually care about my passion. (They technically are, considering they are basically my passion.)

It’s so easy to start wondering whether anyone will ever want to read the stories I'm pouring my heart into. The self-doubt I get has been a big part of my writing journey, and sometimes it breaks my heart knowing that I may not please everyone who reads my stories. That I possibly could get the worst reviews out there on my book. If it's not perfect for society. For example, I have been reading and receiving news on Alex Aster and the amount of bad reviews she received for her LightLark novel, and she has had a few times where she’s stated she poured her heart into it. And it's not just Aster who deals with these as a published author; there are many others, and it sometimes scares me.

But you know what? I've come to realize that this loneliness is just part of the writer’s journey. And that it truly is going to be the process of every writer’s journey and career. It’s going to be one of the prominent challenges we have to face if we want to do this crazy, wonderful, painful thing we call writing. And I think it's important we talk about it, especially since I'm a blogger who owns a blog specifically for writers. The biggest reason I chose to create this blog was for this reason and the many other challenges of being a writer. 

I definitely will consider this blog post to be a discussion, and if anyone wants to reblog or reply to this blog post and start a conversation, please do so, just so we can support each other and figure out healthy ways to cope.

So, why is writing such a lonely pursit? Well, there are quite a few reasons, especially reasons for each individual writer; however, here are a few key reasons:

The Act Itself is Solitary.

At the end of the day, writing is something we have to do on our own. Sure, we can brainstorm with other writers and friends who write or get feedback from beta readers. Or even develop  and edit your manuscript with a professional book editor. But the actual act of putting words on the page is a solo endeavor. We’re the ones doing the typing, the (physical) writing, and the constant racking of our brains to find the perfect word or phrase to put down on paper or the blank page on a screen.

Even when we’re writing collaboratively, there’s still a certain level of isolation involved. I mean, after all, our individual writing process and creative visions have to align for the collaboration to work.

And let’s be real—aligning those things isn't always easy.

I’ve reached out to book editors, more so of developmental editors, which is an editor who guides the writer/author on the actual plot and outline of the novel itself. And they have mentioned the difficulties of needing to align with the creativity of the topic or novel. It isn't easy at all.

I know that for me, my most productive writing sessions happen when I'm alone. And I know for a fact I'm not alone on that.

Having no distractions when it's just me, my thoughts, and the blinking cursor on the screen with a Spotify playlist playing in the background. And while that can be deeply fulfilling and very productive, I will admit it can be incredibly lonely.

It's an Emotionally Draining Process.

Writing isn't just about stringing words together. It's about pouring our hearts and souls onto the page. Were digging into our deepest emotions, our biggest fear, our wildest dreams, our thoughts, our philosophy, I can go on. And that kind of vulnerability can be utterly exhausting.

When I'm in the process of drafting a new novel or the many current projects I'm working on. I often find myself emotionally drained at the end of the day. I've been living and breathing these characters, feeling their joys and pains as my own. describing the actions, words, and emotions these characters do and feel. And then after that, I have to close my laptop, put my pen and notebook away, and try to reenter the “real world"—a world that doesn’t always understand the weight I've been carrying. 

It can be so isolating, feeling like the only person who understands the emotional journey of your writing. Knowing what it feels like to create characters and their stories and emotions and personalities just as if they were real humans. Our non-writer friends and family members try their best to be supportive, but unless they experience it firsthand, they cannot fully grasp the depth of what we go through. I can tell when I explain my projects to others who aren't writers, it can sometimes feel like they don't care about what I'm saying to them. Or it can also feel like, my stories are just a synopsis for an underrated movie no one’s ever watched.

It's a Profession of Rejection

I think we all know, writing is a tough gig. It's a tough career and job. Even the most successful authors have had to face their fair share of rejection. The rejections can be received from agents, publishers, readers, or critics. (like I mentioned earlier), and that constant stream of “no’s” can really chip away at our confidence and sense of self-worth. And especially if you're an aspiring author and have not yet published your work. Knowing that rejection is a big part of the career of writing is frightening. Really.

I remember when one of my best friends, who is a writer, who is currently in the process of publishing her book, would send query after query only to receive endless rejections. She told me it felt like the entire world was telling her, “Your writing isn't good enough,” and that can be a pretty lonely and demoralizing place to be. It has made me anxious about getting to the querying phase, as I still haven't begun to query yet.

Even when we start to find some success, the fear of rejection never really goes away. Will readers love our next book as much as the last one? Will readers even like my debut novel? Will the critics tear it apart? I know when I first started writing my first novel project. I rewrote the first chapter. 13 times!! And that’s because of all the questions and doubts I had in mind. It’s enough to make any writer want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

And the thing is, as writers, we often don't have the same support system that people in other professions might have. We don't have coworkers to commiserate with or a boss to reassure us; it’s just us. Our doubts and the eerie silence of an empty inbox. For example, Ana Neu, one of my all-time favorite Author-Tuber's, has dealt with similar struggles. She’s mentioned several times how lonely she feels and how her family doesn't fully understand her love and passion for writing. And I completely agree with her. If you want to listen to more of her, please listen to her podcast and watch her videos on YouTube here.

So, now that I went over the key reasons as to why writing is so lonely, I didn't want to end this post on negativity, that’s why I wanted to list the main strategies that have helped me:

Build a Writer’s Community

One of the best ways to combat the isolation of writing is to surround yourself with other writers. That’s why I found social media to be a gift, not just for the other obvious reasons, but because we get to find writers around the world who enjoy the same things we like. Having that sense of community can be a game changer.

When I first started my Tumblr blog, TheWriteAdviceForWriters, I was really hoping to create that kind of supportive space for writers. I wanted to create a space where anyone who enjoys writing—not just fiction writers, but anyone who finds writing to be a passion of theirs—can share their dreams and struggles with. It's been amazing to connect with so many incredible people who just “get” the unique challenges we face. Being able to share our achievements and share our compassions. It's been vital for my own mental health as a writer, and I hope that it can also be vital for all of you.

And of course, the community is not about venting or seeking validation from others; its about providing feedback, encouragement, and just being able to make friends. Having that makes the lonely parts of the writing process and journey feel a little less lonely.

Prioritize Self-care

It's so easy to get caught up in the work and neglect our well-being. There have been multiple times where I wouldn't take a break from my writing sessions and simply not eat and drink. I wouldn't give myself time to process everything I wrote, and I immediately after would criticize it.

However, I find that self-care is the most important part of combating the isolation that comes with being a writer. For me, that looks like making sure I get enough sleep. You can't process, learn, and remember anything when you don't have enough sleep. During my personal self-care, when I do 45-to 1-hour writing sessions, I usually take a short nap after. Eating nourishing meals and snacks is important, as is making time for the hobbies and activities that bring me joy. I usually like reading books, spending quality time with my family members, and very feisty (and sometimes scary) cat.

3. Cultivate Gratitude

When loneliness starts to creep in, it can be really helpful to shift our mindset and focus on what we are grateful for; this can be really productive and rewarding. Being a writer is a gift; we get to spend our days doing what we love, bringing our creative visions to life and sharing them with people who love literature. Readers are such a big part of being a writer, and they're huge motivations to me.

So, if you can, just take a moment to appreciate the joys of writing. For example, if you have any writing quirks, I personally have to wear bracelets on both of my wrists in order to produce some type of creativity when I write. I'm not sure why it's just something I noticed. I also really love writing my manuscripts physically. I tend to do this when I'm suffering from writer's block, and for some reason my writing style is a lot better.

And don't forget the many other joys of writing, like drafting, and the excitement of sharing your work with others. Having a new idea come to mind that fits perfectly in your plot. Or even a reader or beta reader sharing a comment on your work and giving you encouragement.

Also, please celebrate your wins; it makes writing all too fun, and it's a great way to integrate writing into the real world.

End Note

I wanted to write this post because I know a lot of us deal with feeling lonely; I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time, and I wanted to share it with Tumblr. I feel like each and every one of you all feel the same way. And that’s why I created my Tumblr community; that's the reason I created this blog, and that's the reason I strive to build this into an entire brand.

I want to bring more awareness to writers, we are the people behind the stories, movies, and media that we consume today, and we barely get any credit for our work. I want to make a brand where others who never thought writing to be their passion could actually for once consider “Is writing for me?”

I feel like it's such an underrated yet overrated passion. Yet it's not acknowledged as much. 

I hope this post can make you understand that writing is 90% lonely and you are not crazy for thinking so. But, we can use the resources we have today, like social media, to change that and make writing better for the present and the future. 

Thank you all for reading. And please, if you are considering joining a community if you haven't already, please join The Write Right Society. We recently met 100 members, and the community is continuing to grow.

[writingcrustacean]

Kinda Cute

Pairings: Ace x Reader, Zoro x Reader

Content: Fluff. Gender neutral reader in mind.

Note: Am I making my first post- as in, first ever Tumblr post- a total shit shot? Yes, yes I am. Did I edit or review these at all? No, no I did not. But that's fiiiiiine. I haven't written much of anything in years, okay? It's just, these two boys just have me in a chokehold, and I love them. I promise I'm actually good at this shit, it's just 2:30 am and, again, haven't written in ages. So if it's bad and you read this, that's on you. Not me. Deal? Deal.

Zoro;

“Kinda cute.”

Those words were on repeat in his head, bouncing from wall to wall, echoing and silencing any other thought that could have existed. He had just woken up from one of many naps when you said those words to him the first time. His eye met yours, confirming that it was indeed meant for him. A slight upwards tilt to your lips and a sparkle in your eyes.

Fuck.

A rapid, onset blush kissed his tanned skin as he found himself unable to look away. You were quick to take it in, your smirk growing. You were teasing him, had to be.

It had been days since you first spoke those words to him, and you found every chance to repeat them- any chance to see his blush, truly. Your infatuation growing day by day, blush by blush. It was unfair, really. You were so smooth with your flirtations, so comfortable with turning Zoro into a stuttering mess. Normally so composed and in control, two words were enough to break him. He almost had enough of it, enough of the torture. But he couldn't deny it- he loved your attention. Secretly craved it, secretly wanted more. So much more. And he was about ready to go for it. If you could so easily make your interest known, so could he. Easy.

Right?

“I- d’you?” His face was hot, so hot. His mind was going blank, looking into your gaze.

You took a step closer, brows knitted together. The back of your hand gently met his forehead, an attempt at checking his temperature. “Ya okay, Zoro? Your fac-”

You were unceremoniously cut off as the swordsman slammed his lips against yours, his eye scrunched close. You could have giggled, would have, if he hadn't pulled you so close. And the electricity that shot through your body had both mind and body going numb. Your stiff shoulders and rigid posture caught his attention, a flicker of uncertainty and panic surging through his core. Fuck, he fucked up. Misread your teasing as flirting, thought you were dropping signals you weren't. He felt so stupid.

Slowly, you raised your hands. One on the side of his face, the other on his shoulder. His roughness met with a softness he hadn't expected, both blushes intensifying. 

Ace;

The squeal slipped past your lips, loud laughter shortly following. Soft, warm fingers left feather touches along your sides. Up and down, up and down. His touch taunted you, tickled you.

Minutes ago you were sleeping so peacefully, relaxed and warm in the arms of your lover. And at first, you barely noticed his touches, softly caressing any inch of skin he had access to. But then his hands ran along your sides, snapping into reality at that ever familiar sensation. The chuckle from behind you confirmed it was on purpose. You would have turned to look at him until he did it again. And again. You quickly decided rolling away was the better option, meeting the floor with a rather solid “thunk” as you let out a loud huff. “Ace!” You whined up at him, pout ever evident in the tone of your voice- a failed attempt at hiding your amusement.

His freckles, black eyes and hair were soon hovering over the edge of the bed. His wild grin lit up his face as he drank in your appearance. Lips in a pout, eyes wide and glistening. “Heh, kinda cute.”

You exaggerated your eye roll, yet your lips began to curl into a grin at the compliment. As much as you hated admitting it, you wouldn't mind being woken up like that any day of the week. So long as it was him, with his warm smile and loving gaze. Unfortunately for you, he knew that. Knew just what effect he had on you and how hard it was for you to be mad at him.

[court-jobi]

Tuning Out, Tuning In

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's characters or this art))

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (biker!pro hero, some afab pronouns used)

Words: 5.1K

Rating: T+ (language, bc obviously)

Warnings: Pro-Hero Bakugo/Pro-Hero Reader, cursing as a love language, insecurities, arguing, use of hearing aids (not an expert!), light hurt/comfort, she falls first-he falls harder

Summary:

So he's got context clues down. Smart, but not convincing enough. He's still not hearing you- because he can't.  You check on your Katsuki after an unannounced leave of absence, only to discover the true reason why is the source of a mighty insecurity of his that he's expertly kept you out of the loop of till now. He's defensive and mean- uncharacteristically so, towards you when you find out. It's heart-wrenching when he realizes he's snapped at you, and gutting when you love him through it.

A/N: *Can be read as a follow-up in the 'Backpack Privileges' universe, but not necessarily a series. Just how I envision these babies evolving~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

News from the girls at the scheduling counter is  that Dynamight was actually putting in PTO for the first time this calendar year.

Sure he’s worked hard, but when doesn’t he? It wasn't like he expended so much energy from his last rescue call that he was too tired or anything when you’d last seen him… so the time off request surprised you. Katsuki Bakugou never took time off, even when he’s congested to the point of sounding like a wounded seagull and hacking up a lung.

You called to check on him the first day he was out, but it went unanswered; he texted back instead that he was in the middle of eating and asked what you needed. You told him to rest up, and he proceeded to spam you with the same angry animal memes as always. 

At the office, things were at a surprising lull by the end of the week, with Kirishima on your right on the sofa scrolling through some mods Hatsume had for him to review. Meanwhile, you took the rather unprofessional route and scrolled on your phone. Your retort to Kiri’s tutting over the bad habit was that you knew the higher ups were off with Jeanist at some press junket, and you could risk it. Called you a naughty thing, how Bakugou was rubbing off on you. You’re sure even at your hangriest you’re not that prickly. 

An instinct, you try calling Bakugou again, this time on speakerphone. It’s been a whole workweek, after all. It rings twice, then straight to voicemail. You end the call before recording anything, and fuss at the phone in your hand. 

“Ok, Kiri? This is weird.”

“Hm? What is?”

“He’s never answering,” you lock the phone habitually, “-and I mean never. No ‘hi’, no ‘whaddya want’; did he lose his voice or something?”

Kirishima finally breaks focus to look at you, questioning, “Bakubro?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t– not that I’m trying every day or anything, but it’s been almost a week of nothing and-” 

-your phone dings: one new preview of a message from ‘Backpack’ lights your lockscreen, and your frustration ramps up to 60.

“-Then he freakin’ texts– like two seconds later!! What the actual hell is going on with him?!”

Kirishima just snorts.

“Maybe he’s taking a dump~”

“He would not text me on the toilet.”

“All men do it.”

“KIRI.” you swat his foot off the couch that’s laid out towards you, crossing yours while he cackles behind his ipad’s screen.

“Oh cmon, he’s fine! He’s just taking a breather~” Kirishima presses you with an assuring look you’re inclined to buy, because his delivery is just that sweet, “Doesn’t really take time off much anymore, so if he did, he probably needs it. Been doing a lot of those muscle contracts, which pays well! But it’s no joke how much it takes out of you– Kamui wants him, Rocklock wants him-”

You do worry about the workload Bakugou is  under given all the names Kirishima rattles off, but your boy’s assured you it’s all part of his drive. That, and he says Bakugou’s saving up for something important for work, but doesn’t disclose more than that.

You don’t press when Bakugou puts up a wall– knowing full well he tells you things when he’s ready.  Till now, he’s not given an indication that he doesn't distrust you with anything- not even his life. You have each other’s backs, and that’s an honor that you value and reciprocate. Perhaps it’s by that faith in one another that you should grant him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe one of these days under another starry sky from the back of your bike, he may share his whats and hows and whys to that sweet spot behind your ear, disguising his secrets with yet another kiss he saves for when you’re alone.

But this silence is really throwing you a curveball. Katsuki’s voice is just one of the many things you’ve come to adore about him. When you confessed that little thought to him, he turned a soft answer -a promise- that he’d answer when you called, day or night. It’s a gruff, punchy sound when you hear it over coms, or even through your shared helmets; but it’s also rumbling, constant, soothing when you hear it fitted against your ear. 

You never thought you’d even miss Dynamight’s passive aggressive screaming so much– until you don’t have any echo of him in your head at all.

“-or yknow if it’s not his schedule, it’s his body that’s about to quit on him. He’s probably giving his ears a break, if I had to guess!”

“...His ears.”

Kirishima looks up at you again, like his point was obvious, “Yeah. He can’t wear ‘em all the time– they’ve gotta charge, and if he’s sweat them out of their normal place, they pinch-”

Realization forces you to sit up straight, “Katsuki wears hearing aids?”

“Well he has to, with his quirk!” Kirishima tickled himself explaining so, “Kats probably blew out his inner ear in middle school, and it’s only gotten worse the harder he’s trained. He got fitted for new ones sometime last winter which he says are more comfortable than the last ones, but I dunno-” Kirishima cracked his neck in a roll, “I think he keeps' em in too long; and they drive him batty after a while.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. 

Down at your phone, you read the text message fully:

Backpack: Knee deep in dishes. What’s up pretty girl.

You decide to answer,

//Waiting on a call for a pickup, just keeping the couch warm~  Up for a call real quick?

‘Backpack’ takes a minute this time. You reason maybe he’s using speech to text given the perfect grammar.

Backpack: Can’t right now.

// Podcast instead? ((eyes emoji))

Backpack: Pass.

//Kiri misses you… ((sad eyes))

Backpack: No he fucking doesn’t. 

Backpack: Throw him a bone or try some fetch, he’ll be fine.

You don’t even laugh at the image with how much he’s deflecting talking to you. Laying back, your concern must be palpable because Kiri nudges you with his foot, and you stare at its buckles; anything from looking at his face.

“He never turns down food.”

“What d’you mean.”

“I mean, he’ll need to eat~” Kirishima’s never ending support coats his words. “-and I’d be shocked if he’d  turn his Darling DoorDasher down.”

You snorted, “Hush, you.”

Kirishima knew full well about you two- he’s not blind. He knows about dates one, two, well- every date, whether from Bakubro's lips or your own. But while it doesn’t feel new and raw… it feels tender and personal, what you share with your hero off the field– and you don’t want the bubble to burst between you and Katsuki. Not just yet.

-which is why, despite your firm concern deep in your gut reminding you of your plans throughout your shift,  you are nervous for your first time going to his apartment, unannounced. 

You knock four times, then back away to the near side of the door so it doesn’t hit you when it opens. A lull of ‘nothing’ hung in the air.. 

You reconsidered,  suspicion making you  bite your cheek: what if he can’t hear you?

You knock four more times, a bit louder. You’re cringing as you come back to your lean. Shuffling, you do indeed look like a food delivery service- an insistent-looking one, to the couple passing by on the ground floor who look up at you and likely wonder why you don’t just call this a ‘contactless delivery’ and jog on.. 

“Cmon, Kats…” you bemoan before steeling your nerves. You try just three more times, channeling your inner ‘Dynamight’ yourself and banging at a level that would take it off its hinges before cringing away to your waiting spot. 

Bakugou’s neighbor pops his head out of the door opposite you this time– nailing you with a reproachful look. Apologies mouthed, you smile demurely as the sound of a very aware Bakugou approaches now.

“I’M COMING, DAMMIT!”

The neighbor -perhaps wisely- shuts his door as he hears the door about to be unlocked. The way his eyebrows fly up, you infer that he does little to ever cross his hotheaded neighbor.

“ALRIGHT ALREADY- WHAT?!”

He's gorgeous, still. Pissy and caught off his guard, and donned headphones around his neck. But Bakugou double-takes to you with a frozen mouth, watching you push off the siding seemingly unaffected by his outburst and smiling casually.

“Hiya~”

His jaw flexes, but he forces his snarl away. Clearly conflicted at your presence, he pinched his brow.

"Said you were workin’ today. What’re you doing."

"I was in the neighborhood. Brought you a bowl~" you bribed the man's heart with the top way you knew how: a white and red ‘thank you’-covered baggie with the jackpot inside..

He likes kamameshi so he doesn’t hafta chew a ton. If his ear n’ jaw are tired, the softer the better. You can't go wrong with a nice bowl o’comfort…  Not like it’d last long with that guy’s appetite on a good day, anyways! Hah!

Hardly one to refuse you (just as Kirishima lovingly predicted), Bakugou stepped aside to let you in, granting you a gentle stroke on your back as you passed him..

Inside, you trade giving him the bag with his offering of your choice in houseshoes. On the far side of the room, the TV is on, including a scroll of subtitles. You look about and the place is spotless- he wasn’t lying about the rage cleaning.

"In the neighborhood, huh?" Bakugou called to you, dishing out the box of takeout while watching you get settled in.

You already said so, but made sure to face him as you speak- eyes all on you. You think that making a sweet delivery is reason enough for your presence here,

"Yeah~ the office drew a short straw on the menu this week, so I’ve been eating out more~ still don’t know how you can mess up potatoes, but sure enough, Feefee’s found a way~" you smile, coming up to his side with a little lilt in your step.

-but Bakugou just drones back,

"Overdue on our lunches, aren’t we sweets. We'll go do something this weekend."

Oh boy. You’re really bad off. A diss at the agency kitchen staff would never go unnoticed by the resident lunch snob, you think to yourself. You may not have lightning fast quips like Kaminari, but c'mon, that was a little funny…

Any other time that Bakugou would willingly suggest a date would thrill you. Maybe he’s even aware that he’s been avoiding you, and is trying to make up for it by suggesting a couple places offhand. But knowing the real reason behind the aversion, it doesn’t warm you the way it always does. 

His answer was typical and wasn't really related to what you asked at all, so you watch him take some bites and try again.

You trailed over to his dining kitchenette, taking a seat before him, tone lovely and appropriate for the distance between you. 

“You should have seen Kiri’s attempt to make my coffee order. Almost put a pump of salmon oil in instead of simple syrup! But hey, that just means job security for you, yeah? You’re so much better at it.”

You make eyes at the tv behind you as you speak- a test. 

He catches your intentional look, but he twists in his seat to glance. Then, focuses back on you and not making a mess of his dish, “Yeah, you can change it if you want.”

So he's got context clues down. Smart, but not convincing enough. Still not hearing. 

You try once more, sass tinting your voice as if you were teasing him privately.

"We adopted a purple hippo as an office pet~"

"Mhm," Bakugou picked up on the attitude, pausing and coming to your side with a bit of a swagger he hopes looks natural, "Sure been a crazy week. Missed a lot. We’ll get back to normal soon, yeah? Cmon, let's go watch somethin’."

Your hands fall to your thighs in a resigned slap. Sighing, you look to him desperately, urging him with more enunciation. 

"This is bad, Katsuki."

"What's so bad." Bakugou reads your lips and deflects.

You tap your ear with a sympathetic look.

– his demeanor changes. Horribly.

Bakugou steps away in almost disbelief, edgy and firm: a rolling boil starts to simmer behind his eyes. Turning aside, he huffs. Guilty. 

He turns tail to the kitchen, cursing under his breath to ‘give him a second.’ Bakugou pushes his stacks of cleaned dishes aside, making a clash of noise even you flinch at. It’s evident the sound doesn’t phase him. 

"No, you don't have to put them-"

"I can't fucking HEAR YOU, woman; give me a DAMN SECOND!!"

Coming around the island after him, you see he’s trying to get at the charging dock on the backside of his butcher block.

Watching him fiddle with just his right ear, he turns back and faces you prickly as ever, with arms crossed and barely attempting to rein in his anger.

You are sure now you've struck a nerve if he's acting like this around you. You tread carefully,

"I'm not here to just yap your head off, or commandeer your days off. I… was just concerned."

"About what? I'm fine."

"It's been five days,” you stress gently, “you didn't think I would think it’s weird if you didn’t answer once?"

"I answered you back every time," Bakugou raised his voice a tick, "Every text– never left you on read, cuz I know that feels shitty!"

"I know you did," you give him credit, "But it's– different when we talk, and you know that difference. It's just that you always call back. It just hasn’t felt normal -for you- is all. And I didn’t know there was going to be a reason like this that’s why."

"Well it's not like I could hear the phone ring anyway, so fuck me for that. How the hell’d you find out anyway."

"...I didn't know until Kirishima said something. I was telling him I-"

"Of course it fucking was,” Bakugou huffed again, “Well, it's none of his business, it’s not his problem, and he should kept his DAMN mouth shut."

To trash Kirishima like this -hotheaded and bitter- definitely feels more like an attack than he'd ever mean on a good day. Kiri is his best friend, and clearly close enough to have been there at the first fitting and have a picture perfect memory of it because it mattered so much to his buddy to be there for him. To not let it define him.

You can't pretend to know how sensitive of a subject this is, based on how confident Bakugou is with everything in life: even the litany of scars he wears outlining his hero work aren't off limits to discussion. But his answers come armed with cached ammo and heat.

You certainly don't think yourself entitled to everything about him, but you see now that he clearly hadn’t planned to tell you about his wearing hearing aids, or at least hadn’t intended for you find out this way… so someone had to take the brunt of his ire. You think to be grateful he doesn’t appear ready to snap at you, but you feel so much on the outside, it hurts to watch him sizzle. 

You try to take the pressure off the leak of the news, "Where's this coming from, hon?"

Bakugou grunts, looking back to you with a raised brow. 

You gestured between you just to talk with your hands a little, "Where  is  this  coming-"

"HELL IF I KNOW!” Bakugou shouts back, “It just IS. I just wanted- it-- Look, just fuckin’ drop it, ok? I will. be back. tomorrow. And everything’ll be like it was before you knew a damn thing, ALRIGHT??"

He's defensive and mean now; the pitch he never aimed at you before now entered the ring.

This was a line you were damned sure not to let any man cross.

"Ok, we're gonna try that again,” you spoke plain as day.

"Try WHAT again??"

"Discussing, not fighting." You stood firm at his counter. You will not be taking up a screaming match under any circumstances, and have to make that clear. "Coming up with an answer -together- because that's what we do when our backs are up against the wall... Not bite the hand that's trying to help. ‘Hit the problem, not the player’."

The words resonate with Bakugou, having been the one who shot that reminder to you not a week ago from his own mouth, and everything in that face full of fire wants to rear back– 

"-and before you say ANYTHING else... You will. not. talk to me like that."

You hear the hero’s palms sizzle, and see by the look of hatred he glares at them with that he clearly hates the feel. 

Bakugou lets out a growl then goes silent, obeying. He takes a little pace around, finally settling at the tall, bar-height stool, rubs his palms compulsively at his thighs as a reset, and pulls at his head until it lays dejected in those explosive hands propped up on his knees.

Your invitation to stand by him opens when he lifts his head and scowls behind tented fingers. Kindly, you make sure to stand closer to his right to give him the best chance of catching your words.

"Y'know I'm the last one who's ever gonna give you a hard time for this, don’t you?"

Bakugou doesn't answer, but you know he's listening.

"It's hard for me to take time off work too, I don't do it as much as I should. I know it's hard to leave work at work, and you did that on your own, in order to take care of yourself. You know your limits and that’s keeping you alive. That was really wise."

You see a little bob of the head by the slight jostle of his hair.

What bothers you here and now isn’t just selfish thoughts of ‘why didn’t he tell me’, but ‘why didn’t he tell anyone’? It’s clear by what you’ve learned that next to no one knows of his condition. That small aspect of this gives you a little comfort, but opens up a bigger dose of worry. Hearing impairment might be perceived by a bystander as a defect or weakness, but for the old friends and medical experts who surely surround him, you’d feel confident in Bakugou’s care to know he’d surely not think of himself that way. 

Surely not… surely not?

“But the thing is, if it's coming down to you hurting and needing help- or just, getting time away if that's what you really want, I can totally get that. But  between you and I? We've gotta figure out how you really feel about this, because it’s eating at you. Affects everything you do at some point, right? Can't have you working yourself to the bone here, overworking your senses out there, feeling like you can’t speak for days on end, setting things off, either. Even accidentally."

You swipe along his shoulder and arm sweetly, just for a little connection.

“I… I really do care about you, Katsuki. I don't want you to feel you have to manage it all on your own.  I want to be someone you can have in your back pocket for help- even with something like this.”

A ‘ride or die’ offer if there ever was one.

Bakugou looks in the direction of your hand. The smooth, unscarred hand you sport is so different from his own. Proof of the softness he lost a long time ago, his sunken eyes tell you. He blinks, and it’s a pensive, sad sight. 

 "M'sorry." 

The hoarseness in that proud voice fell hollow.

To anyone else, it may sound apathetic and half-assed, but Bakugou held so much ‘punch’ in his daily speech that you realized this apology featured the even breath of emotion. Restraint. His control. His gentleness.

“You can't help how your body works, Kats. You don't have to apologize for what's happening naturally. This is... just a side effect, unfortunately.”

“T’snot that,” he said limply.

A second attempt to finish for him, you try again studying the takeout boxes left open. “I.. get you not telling me, too. It’s not my business either.”

Bakugou shakes his head, with a dismissive jerk of the head altogether. Instead he lifts up, miserably.

"I don't talk to you that way."

Through a brief silent showdown, you accept his apology. As rough as he is even with his own mother, Bakugou has framed a different ring for you two to dance in, and harshness doesn’t belong in it.

"You don’t,” the agreement is established, “that's how I knew something's out of whack. Plus, I mean.. if you can’t pick up background noise, it must be hard trying to match volume in a space, right?"

Bakugou’s hoarseness fails him, falling to which air, "That's a shit poor excuse. You were right. I know the difference." 

Meekly reaching for hip, the man sniffles: pulling you the rest of the way between his bent legs. 

You step in and he crumbles into your core, strong hands encircling your hips. 

"I'm sorry," he swears.

"It's ok..."

Bakugou squeezes you in, "It's not. Ok. You should have slapped me for that shit.”

“I’m not doing that, either,” you get weary hearing how the guys rough each other up. You’re certainly not applying the same tactics to him of all people.

“Well, it’s inexcusable. I respect you more than to do that. Know better.”

"I forgive you, then."

"You shouldn't, so easily.”

Chin jutted on his still-bowed head, your answer comes simply but openly:

"...That's commonly called love, Katsuki. I love you. That’s what I do."

He's silent and frozen. The only sign of life is that he is -in fact- breathing still.

You said these, the magic words, in record time for anyone you've held affection for... and you didn't care. You loved Katsuki. Loved all of him. Even the prickly bits that threatened to square up at you like  a bull. 

Friendship was an surprisingly easy test for you two.

Partnership, battle-proven in the public sphere. 

But this is the final straw that you’ve been keeping safe and special. Telling Katsuki you loved him would push things to a deeper level than you felt the term ‘boyfriend’ afforded you both at thirty years old. In loving him, and no one else, you just wanted to call him ‘yours’ already and be done with searching for the One.

Since he doesn’t speak, you busy yourself elsewhere. He may not answer nearly as quickly as you given how on-the-spot he mulls in currently… but he hasn’t let go of you, which is a good sign. Good enough for you.

Your mind veers a bit in the quiet. You think to yourself about what feels nicest when you've had your helmet on too long; athletes deal with it, racers deal with it.. Anyone who wears a support item with internal padding giving cushion around the head is bound to force unnatural pressure on every angle for the sake of protection. 

On you, this tension lies just behind the ears. 

To soothe it, you’d usually draw a sun: a half circle design, zigzagging up and down with your fingertips, creating lines of relief along the tender sides of your head. It's to help the blood flow, and the scratches crackle nicely to the ear canal. Acts as white noise to the senses which is often a welcome change to the low thrum of a headache or grating road noise.

So with careful fingers, a mind set on comfort and a heartful of soft love for this man, you draw twin suns deep within Katsuki's hair.

…within seconds, he wept.

Bakugou softly cries and he holds you close. He turns in his seat, pulling you to fit even tighter between his knees with no gap of room between you.

When he can regulate his breaths down to calm blows from his lips, he shares more what's on his mind, down the space between you.

"...that feels really good."

"I hoped so~. So your head bothers you too, after a while. Having them in all the time?"

He turns his head finally to rest on one side, the functionally deaf side leaning into your chest... listening out for a heartbeat it seems.

“N’it’s all inside, so it’s hard to touch it unless I pump myself full of horsepills… makes m’stomach hurt."

From head to toe, he’s being honest about what this means for him. "The thing that’s meant to help, hurts? I’m sorry, hon."

He's still swallowing back his emotions, so you don't press for what he wants to say when it's clear he's focused on getting good rhythm back.

"My arm gets numb sometimes, too."

You're surprised at this, as more pieces fit together you didn’t know were necessarily missing, "-Yeah?"

"It's somethin' in the tendons. Can fight fine, but small moves are weird. I can't pick up a fucking piece of paper right. N'holding my phone hurts some days."

With a kiss to his hair, you see the teed-up ‘in’ to make him laugh,

"Well, who're you gonna be texting anyway, now that I won't be blowing up your phone?"

He tuffs. Joking aside, you hugged you close. “Gotta to back to that dumbass doctor, don't I."

"They can check your nerve endings with a scan. See if there's a reason for it."

Bakugou accepts this and continues his baring of his heart. He mentions old pains, some new ones, even some random details about which oscillating fans he likes on or off because of how warm he runs. Some of it relates to his work, some not, but you take it all in. Each little snippet he offers up reminds you of penguin pebbling. 

Satisfaction rang through you with the news that caused the biggest physical response in him: he confessed after all that he hadn’t wanted to ignore you at all, and it shows.

His hands massage at you– never getting enough.

“V’missed your voice too,” Bakugou’s voice finally seeps back in- that low, growly rumble of the chest you wanted to play on loop, “But I know I needed that break. I wanted 'em out, just for a little while. Even if I didn’t want to miss the good that comes from keepin’ em in.”

“That’s fine to want. Anytime you need.”

Bakugou turns exploratory with his hand. With the one not locked around your waist keeping you to him, he gives long scritches across your back, up front to hold your side- rooting him. 

“N’for the record, not everyone knows. It’s probably in a record somewhere, so it’s not really been taboo or anything. No one’s ever banned me from fighting; not yet at least. It’s not a secret. But… s’been so long, I’ve… never had to explain them to anyone. Sure as shit don't tell the public.”

Tender fingers seek out the soft inner side of your wrist, just a small touch.

“But you…I didn’t know how to open that up. Seems like a random ass thing to drop on you.”

You understand, and think it sweet that he at least had contemplated telling you at some point– but now, you could only look to his future and knew this would only help you moving forward.

"Nothing’s random if it’s important to you. So head scratches are a yes. Fast food is a yes, keeps you out of the stores. Anything else I should keep in mind to help?"

Bakugou thinks, but just holds onto you with a little nuzzle, "Not now. Yer doin’ it."

Happy and soft, you smile, "Okey~"

After a minute, he's matched your breathing, and you only move when he lifts his head to chin up at you from his spot. You smile expectantly seeing him less harsh around the edges and looking at you on the softer side of pitiful. Like he's looking to you for the solution-- neck bared and showing a rare vulnerability.

"You're my hero, Kats," you dote on him. Hands through his hair, scritching at the base, "y'know that right?"

"Damn right."

"And you aren't anywhere near throwing in the towel over this."

His smirk returned, "Damn right."

Bakugou’s neck received more soothing treatment again– making his eyes flutter, 

"Because my Lord Explosion has way too many baddies left to murder before he allows anyone get to his getaway driver, right?"

Finally showing signs of his spark back, Bakugou growls his pleasure. 

"Y'talking about murder does things to a man, baby."

"Thought it might... I mean every word though. You take such good care of me, Kats. Let me do the same for you sometimes, ok?"

"... Yeah alright," he finally caves easily with tepid palms smoothing over the back of your thighs. Still keeping you close, forehead falling to rest against you, you feel finally content that your presence has helped him. 

All your one-sided concerns now settled, you feel glad that your update to Kirishima later will share that Bakugou’s okay– and will likely add in a fair heads-up that he might still be pissy with him come Monday.

After some cursory scratches across his shoulders, you remember to hold out a hand by his eye level. Bakugou hums when he notices it, and raises his hand to hold yours-- only for you to dodge it, and keep it open.

Let me have it, silly.

After checking ‘what on earth you were getting at’, he tilts to see your fingers open again. The blond head of hair at your chest sighs, decides, then takes the lone hearing aid out and returns it into your open palm. With careful depositing, you set it on the counter behind you with the note-to-self to put it back with its mate– and return your hands to yours.

Bakugou centered himself by breathing you in. Once he had you snug in his arms again, he pressed a firm kiss through your shirt, hoping you felt everything he couldn’t say behind a tight throat. 

You thought it silly, but with him resting fairly tame right on your chest, you thought you'd try a little enrichment for him:

That stupid song from the pop-up takeaway truck was still stuck in your head, so you started humming it to him. 

With how high you stood above him doling out scritches to his temple, you missed how his eyes opened for a flash in recognition of today’s current brainrot love ballad; but you didn't miss how he pressed in closer to you and really listened.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Mild language, Bucky and Reader being Tolkien nerds, light fluff, mention of rabies (it's a super scary disease and we should all be vigilant, okay?!)

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: You just had the pleasure of meeting the very handsome Bucky Barnes. Despite a little bit of awkwardness during your first encounter, you have a feeling your life is about to get a lot more interesting now that he's been introduced into it.

A/N: You know what? I said I wasn't going to do this, but I thought "fuck it!" and decided to post all of Chapter 1: Unarmed. My anxiety is too high to just sit on it. So, please enjoy Ch1. Pt2! Pts 3 & 4 to follow!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

The next evening, you were making your way back to your suite after a productive, albeit exhausting, day in your lab. You were working on a crisis prediction real-time monitoring system to anticipate global threats. You were convinced it would allow the Avengers to respond to trouble faster, but perfecting the privacy algorithm had been an absolute pain in the ass, and you still hadn't gotten it quite right. Technically, you could have farmed the project off to a subordinate; hell, even a team of subordinates of a subordinate, but this was one of your pet projects and you insisted on being hands-on in its development.

You had your tablet open as you walked, chewing on your thumb and reviewing the dataset from the run of your latest algorithm model one more time. Closer, but not good enough. If you were going to convince Tony that this was a program worth implementing, especially at its projected cost, everything had to be perfect. "Damn it," you muttered to yourself.

You rounded the corner and ran smack into Bucky's chest, dropping your tablet and causing him to drop the three books he'd been holding under his remaining arm. "Oh, shit-- I'm so sorry," you uttered as you bent down to retrieve the dropped items. Bucky leaned down to assist you, but you waved him off.

"’S my fault; I've got it," you told him, piling up his books for him. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Bucky leaned up against the wall and chuckled while you stood up and handed the books back to him. "I doubt you could hurt me," he said, smiling softly. "No offense."

You let out a small laugh. "None taken." He was a super soldier, after all. Stealing a glance at book spines, you couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "Lord of the Rings," you nodded appreciatively. "Have you read them before?"

Bucky looked down at the books tucked under his arm. "No, first time. I read The Hobbit back when it was first published in '37, but these didn't come out until after..." he trailed off, but you knew what he meant. After he'd been abducted and brainwashed, turned into a murderer.

You nodded in understanding. "I'm actually really excited for you," you told him. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read them again for the first time."

"You a Tolkien fan, then?" he asked you. When you nodded, he continued: "When I finish them, maybe we can talk about them sometime? Steve's not really into fantasy."

"Yeah, I'd like that," you said. "If you're interested, we could watch the movies. I'll warn you though; they're long as hell, but their masterpieces. I mean, they didn't need to turn The Hobbit into three separate films, but still, they'll blow your fucking mind."

Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and you couldn't help but follow the motion with your eyes. "That sounds like fun," he said, his eyes twinkling with... something. "Your place or mine?" Was he… flirting with you?

"How 'bout you finish the books first, then we'll talk logistics," you teased. "Hey, speaking of, what floor did they end up putting you on?"

"Um, this one, actually," he said, tilting his head toward a nearby door.

"No shit," you remarked, laughingly. "You must have done something to piss Rogers off, because he put you right across the hall from me."

Bucky looked down, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpeting. "He said it was the quietest floor, thought I'd prefer that."

You pursed your lips, considering. "Yeah, that makes sense; it's just been me on this level for ages. It'll be nice to have some company for a change."

Bucky looked surprised. "Stark's kept you down here all by your lonesome? That doesn't seem very nice."

You shook your head and dismissed his concern with a wave. "Oh, no-- Tony hates that I still live down here, actually. He put in all new living quarters a few years back. Everyone migrated upstairs, but I was the only one who didn't want to move."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, appearing genuinely interested.

"I've lived here since I graduated college," you admitted, "back when it was still just Stark Tower. When Tony relocated here from Malibu to rebrand it for the Avengers, he wanted to redo everything, which meant fancy new suites for everybody. But I love my rooms, so I asked to stay put. They've been my home for so long now and I guess I just like the stability, you know?"

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "And Tony thinks highly enough of you that he let the blow to his ego slide?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I have enough dirt on him that he felt like he didn't have much of a choice." You snorted, not able to keep up the pretense. "No, but seriously, I know you and Tony have a complicated... history, but he's not a bad guy. Ego as tall as this Tower, yes, definitely, but he's also incredibly kind and generous. He paid for my entire college education-- undergrad, post-grad, doctorate. I owe everything I have to him."

Bucky shifted against the wall. "That is pretty generous. And he never expected anything from you in return?" He didn't say the words out loud, but the implication was there. Had you slept with Tony in exchange for your diplomas? The innuendo should have bothered you, but it had been posed to you so many times over the years, you'd stopped being offended by it. Before Pepper, Tony had had quite the  reputation, after all, and an MIT education didn’t exactly come cheap. Most people couldn’t understand why he would offer a full ride to someone who, at the time, had been a complete stranger.

"Tony appreciates talent," you clarified. "When he finds it, he cultivates it, nourishes it, does everything he can to help it grow to its fullest potential. But he does like to get a return on his investments, and my skills have helped him make a lot of money." You shrugged your shoulders with a chuckle. "I love my job, I love the work we do, I love the stupid weirdo family we've built here, so I've always considered meeting Tony to be the best thing that ever happened to me. He's kind of like my own fairy godfather."

"So, what exactly does he have you do around here?" Bucky asked. "I know Steve said you did computer stuff, but you said it was an over-simplification."

You ran a hand up to rub the back of your neck while you considered your answer. How best to explain your position to someone who was born before the invention of the television? "Okay," you exhaled, "so, short answer is that I'm the CTO, the Chief Technology Officer, of Stark Industries and, under that, I run the Avenger’s Technology and Innovation Department. It's sort of our take on Research and Development. I've got a lab where I'm in charge of about 450 scientists, engineers, computer programmers, analysts, et. cetera. And our entire job is coming up with cool new ways of making things easier for the Avengers. Like, new features for suits, developing useful programs, coming up with new defenses and weapons, that kind of thing. And if we've got missions that require heavy computer- or tech-work, I come along for on-site support. I'm combat-trained and good with languages, so that comes in handy in the field. There’s probably a ton of field agents that could go in my place, but for Tony, it’s a matter of trust."

Bucky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. That's impressive. You're a little intimidating, you know that?"

Laughing, you tucked your tablet under your arm. "Please. I'm about as intimidating as a hamster." You paused to think. "Maybe a hamster with rabies, but still a hamster."

A series of beeps emanated from your tablet. As you pulled it out to check the alert, Bucky moved away from the wall. "I'm so sorry-- you were heading back to your room and I've basically been holding you hostage this entire time."

"Actually," you said, silencing the notification alarm that had distracted you, "That was just a reminder I set for myself to eat. Sometimes I lose track of time in the lab and completely forget to have dinner. Are you hungry? You could join me."

Bucky pulled his head back, regarding you as though he wasn't sure if you were serious.

"Or, if you don't want to, that's cool," you said quickly once you noticed his hesitation. "I mean, you wanted a quiet floor. Annoying neighbor is probably the last--"

"I'd love to," interrupted Bucky with a grin. "I'm just surprised someone like you would want to spend time with someone like me."

"Someone like me? Hey now, for all you know, I could be an absolute trash person," you teased, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound warmth. "Well, I highly doubt that, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."

"Don't say I didn't warn you when you do." You cocked your head toward the door to your room. "I'm going to change out of my work clothes. While I do, how about you decide what you're in the mood for, and we'll go from there. That sound good?" Bucky nodded as you let yourself into your room. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but you found you were looking forward to spending more time in the company of Bucky Barnes.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[adorethedistance]

The Late Late Show - Bella Ramsey x Reader (18+)

General Masterlist

Warnings: (18+ only minors DNI) afab reader, smut, swearing, teasing, lmk if there’s anything else I missed.

Words: 2697

Summary: After a promotional appearance on the Late Late show, you and Bella confess your feelings for one another; your skepticism causes them to prove just how much they like you back.

A/N: It’s almost 1 am. I don’t feel like proof reading this. I want to be done with it. SO here we are LMAO. In all seriousness I’m really stoked on this piece and I hope y’all like it. It’s been a while since I’ve written a full smut so I’m a little rusty.

Pedro, Bella, and I are on the Late Late Show to promote season 2 of The Last of Us, and Mr. James Corden had the incredible idea to make us play ‘spill your guts or fill your guts’. In rehearsal the questions were all mundane and simple to keep the surprises for the actual show. Now that the questions are real, my anxiety has skyrocketed and I anxiously await my turn. So far, Pedro has had a sip of bird saliva and Bella has confessed who their least favorite person to work with in their career was. Now it’s my turn and I’m almost too anxious to comprehend the words coming out of anyone’s mouth. Bella turns the table slowly, watching my face and gauging my reactions to each food as it goes by.

“Y/n.”

“Hm.”

“For this question, I will give you…” They pause to think for a moment, “The one thousand year old  egg.” I fight the urge to gag and Bella laughs deviously. They noticed the way I was particularly disturbed by it when we reviewed all the food options on the table for the camera. Bella laughs their adorable laugh after reading the question written on the cue card; I can’t stop the fake frown that’s appeared on my face.

“Which of mine and Pedro’s acting performances were the worst, and why?” The audience erupts into laughter, cheers, and groans as I contemplate how I can answer this question. “There is no way in hell I’m eating that.”

“Then you’ve got to answer.”

“I don’t know! I think you guys aren’t capable of bad performances.”

“Booooo.”

“Why are you booing me?!” I screech in surprise although I can’t help the smile forming on my face. Pedro jumps in,

“That’s a cop-out!”

“That is such a cop-out answer!” Bella laughs, biting their lip and resting their elbows on the table, displaying their hands that are sparsely decorated with rings.

“Why are you guys teaming up on me? This is so unfair. James, do something!”

“My hands are tied-”

“No, they are not it’s your show!”

“That one thousand year old egg isn’t getting any younger,” Bella quips, a devious smirk adorning their features. More laughter from the audience and I look back at Bella with pleading eyes. They raise their eyebrows to taunt me, clearly enjoying how I’m scrambling for answers. I bite the inside of my cheek and playfully glare. Another eyebrow quirk from Bella. On national television?

I cave, “Oh god. Okay, uh, Pedro. Maybe Mando? Since you’ve got the helmet on and we can’t really see your face emote a lot?”

“Kind of a cheat answer but I’ll leave it be,” Bella teases.

“Bella… Maybe Judy since you didn’t have too much on screen time so you weren’t given a lot to work with?” I attempt to calm my breathing as I wait for the other three to either approve or disapprove my answers. The jury is pleased with my response and I’m saved from eating the egg in front of me that is literally black and green.

We continue another rotation of questions going around the table until James takes us to commercial break. Bella, Pedro, and I stand from the table and head back to the couch for our actual interview portion of the show. It’s the last segment before we’re wrapped and I can’t wait to be finished so I can get out of this makeup and borderline black tie attire.

James gives us the standard questions that come with promoting a show and I find myself struggling to stay present. The way Bella moves their hands and the numerous rings that adorn their fingers are eternally captivating.

I want to just reach out and grab it. To hold their hand in mine and exist like that for as long as we possibly could. I want to hold them in my own and kiss them to show how much I care. I want to clench around their hands as I scream their name loud enough for anyone to hear. I want to bite down on exposed skin as they fuck me and tell me I’m their good girl. I crave Bella. I’ve always craved Bella.

“I think we’ve lost her. Y/n?” I hear James’ voice bring me back down to earth. My cheeks are a thousand degrees warmer as I realize I’ve been caught, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to belong to Bella.

“What?” I ask when I zone back in. Everyone in the room laughs and I try to blink away my embarrassment.

“You play Dina, correct?”

“I do, yes.”

“This is a new character for this season, what can you tell us about her?”

“Yeah, so Dina is Ellie’s love interest in this part of the story,” I proceed to tell James the same basic spiel that I give every interviewer and he listens intently. He asks a few more questions about the characters and what it was like for the three of us to work closely on set. The interview goes over fun, smooth, and funny and before we knew it, the show was wrapped shortly after. Bella disappears almost immediately in search of a bathroom, leaving me with Pedro as James begins talking with one of his producers.

“Are you okay?” Pedro nudges my shoulder to get my attention. I nod rapidly which does not at all minimize his suspicion.

“Yeah, I’m totally good.”

“You were in space for the entire interview. What’s up?” He asks sincerely. Is this something I should tell him? Is this something I shouldn’t tell him? I’m at a loss for direction but Pedro’s reassuring smile reminds me that he is probably the best confidant on planet earth.

“It’s about Bella…” I start off slowly.

“Yeah, you really seem to like them.”

“SHHHH! Why would you say that so loud?!” I whisper shout which if anything draws more attention to us.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Pedro holds both hands up to try and ease my anxiety and I drop my shoulders to try and reel everything back in.

“You’re right, though. I do really like them.”

“Apparently.”

“So what do I do?”

“What do you mean?”

I scowl, “What do you mean what do I mean?”

“It’s obvious they like you as well.” I tilt my head back incredulously.

“What are you talking about?” Pedro laughs heartily before responding,

“I may not be the smartest person in the room but I’m not an idiot. I see how you look at each other. How they look at you.” My heart flutters with excitement. “It’s a huge crush if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Well, what do I do then?” I ask, and we’re back to square one. Pedro shakes his head at my obliviousness.

“You tell them you like them and then kiss!” He says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. Ever the optimist. As I open my mouth to speak, I cut myself off to see Bella has rejoined the three of us. A quaint smile paints their face and my heart flutters again tenfold.

“What’d I miss?”

“Not much from me but Y/n has something to say.” I go wide-eyed and look at Pedro in panic. If looks could kill he would be a dead man this instant. Bella nods at me expectantly and I feel a rush of anxiety in my core. I do my best to cover up the fact that I’m taking a deep breath to soothe my nerves.

“We should go somewhere… not… here.” Bella laughs at the peculiar rhythm of my speech but agrees and follows me backstage. In the dressing room that we shared when getting ready, I flick the switch that lights up the perimeter of lightbulbs around the vanity mirror. Bella senses the tension that’s practically radiating off of me and closes the door behind us.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay I just-” I trail off in search of the right words.

“...You just what?” Bella asks, gently.

Moment of truth.

“I really like you, Bella. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I’m anxious that bombarding you with this information could scare you away, and then we wouldn’t be friends anymore because it would be too awkward. So then I’d be losing not just my best friend, but also just you as a person and I’d hate for that to happen because I like you as a person too and I-”

“I’ve been waiting for this conversation.” Bella says smugly.

“-Have been so worried about- wait what?” As my whole rambling rant lead me to look down, my head snaps back up. “You’ve been waiting for this?”

“Mhm.”

“Would you care to share with the class?” I ask, facetiously causing them to laugh at the sarcasm.

“Pedro and I actually had a bet going for how long it would take you.” I frown at their words and blink away my confusion. Bella drops the smug smile. They stare at me and I feel my face heat up being under their intense gaze.

“You… don’t like me back?” I say, my heart sinking in panic as I had just bared my soul to them.

“Of course I like you back.”

“Well, don’t say that like it was obvious!”

“I made it pretty obvious.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“We spent Valentine’s day together.”

I open my mouth to protest but close it to consider maybe it wasn’t just a ‘Galentine’s’ hang out.

“But-”

“We literally woke up spooning when we had that sleepover.” I blink. Once, twice, and then shut my eyes completely to block out the visual of Bella’s face as I come to the same conclusion.

“Yeah, I guess it was pretty outright.” They simply nod a yes and I feel the weight of the world lifted off of my shoulders at once. “So, you like me?”

“Oh my god-” Bella rolls their eyes, and swiftly comes over to grab my face in their hands and kiss me passionately. Their lips on mine are the symphony of an orchestra that I’ve long awaited. Each movement of our lips, the rhythmic richness of percussion. Their hands tracing down the silhouette of my body, the sensuality of the brass. A desire-filled rush of blood coursing through my entire body, the serenity of the woodwinds. And the intensity of our feelings for one another becoming intertwined into one energy, the complexity of the strings.

I’m fully floating on cloud nine, drifting further and further away from the Earth and into the ethereality of Bella. The kiss started passionately and quickly becomes heated as the two of us revel in our lust for one another.

Bella grips my hair in their hand at the base of my neck, tugging the handful to break the kiss and tilt my chin upwards. They take the new access to kiss and suck the skin of my neck. Grazing their teeth over my larynx, biting into the side and sucking a harsh, clean mark into the exposed flesh. I groan and the sheer eroticism and grip the vanity counter behind me.

Bella’s ringed fingers gently grasp my hips, pushing me back to lean on the counter with more of my weight. They abandon the task of marking me, grabbing the fabric of my dress, pulling it up and cradling the hem of it in their hands at my hip sockets. All the while, they had sunken down to the floor, lustful eyes watching my face as they kneel on the floor.

“Can I?” They ask and I quickly nod yes as my mouth was too dry to form a verbal response. Lifting the hem of the evening dress over their head, Bella bites another hickey into my inner thigh. I squeak at the sensation. It hurts so good.

“Shhh. You’ve gotta stay quiet.” I nod rapidly as reassurance, temporarily forgetting they can’t see my face.

“Got it, sorry.”

“It’s okay, babygirl.” Bella then hooks their fingers into the waistband of the underwear I was wearing. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, anticipation dripping from my voice. They drop the garment to the floor and have me step one foot out of them. My left leg stays anchored on the ground as a point of support since the counter likely wouldn’t hold my entire body weight. Bella guides my right leg up and over their shoulder before they trace their tongue over my glistening core. I whimper out a noise of relief and my head drops back, readying myself for the ride of my life.

Their tongue traces through the folds, trailing up to draw my clit in their mouth. I let out a languorous moan. In an attempt to regulate my breathing, I pull in a deep breath of bliss. Bella expertly devours me and I feel myself pulsating from arousal. Judging by the smug hum of laughter I’m guessing they could feel the movement as well.

I grab the fabric of my dress around my thighs and lift the layers to keep Bella from practically suffocating. They continue, unphased. A euphoric cry escapes my lips when Bella presses two tantalizing fingers inside of me. My hand quickly covers my mouth to try and conceal the undeniable bliss of their hand working in tandem with their mouth. Each stroke of their fingers elicits a ragged moan from my throat and I fight so hard to remain quiet. Then, Bella’s mouth pulls off of my clit with an audible smack.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me?” They ask earnestly and I nod rapidly. Anything to please them. The frantic nature of my response is satisfactory enough and they resume sucking on my swollen clit. I’m almost overstimulated from the pleasure of their mouth working with the rhythmic curling of their fingers. My moans increase tempo as I continue chasing the high. Bella beatifically bobs their head, moving faster to bring me closer to the edge.

Their fingers curve so perfectly against my g-spot and I fight the need to cry out in untamable pleasure. Stimulating the spot brings me closer and closer. I hold the collected fabric of my dress skirt in my left arm, and frantically reach down with my right. Bella masterfully maintains their pace, mouth and fingers working together while their other hand reaches up to interlace their fingers with mine. The thoughtful gesture is arousing in itself and I find my orgasm come to a peak.

I reside in this high for a moment before the waves of pleasure come crashing down over me. I finish with a strangled sob of gratification. Bella’s pace slows but they continue working me through the orgasm until the feeling passes. Once my clit stops pulsating, I feel them pull their mouth off of me with a most sinful pop. They leave our hands intertwined, but take the hand that was inside of me and lift the wet fingers to their lips, sucking off my remaining juices with great pleasure. I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, partly from disbelief but mostly from the residual high. They lock eyes with me and smile innocently, as if they hadn’t just sucked the life out of me in the best way possible.

Bella then wraps both arms around me and holds my body as tightly to their own as they can without hurting me. I then realize they’re doing this because my legs are trembling and they’re allowing me to use them as support. I’m grateful for the attentiveness and melt in their arms, wrapping my own around their shoulders. They hold me like this for a few minutes, and I smile knowing they would have remained there for hours if I’d asked them to.

“You were so good for me, pretty girl.” The praise is of the utmost comfort and I tuck my face into the crook of their neck. Placing soft, practically indebted kisses on their skin serves as a ‘thank you’ since I’m still very much recovering.

“I love being the only one to make you feel this good.”

[aihoshiino]

chapter 153 thoughts

Heads up, this chapter review contains canon typical discussions of abuse, CSA and suicidal ideation.

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: Ten! TEN chapters since the 143 kiss happened and went entirely unacknowledged and unaddressed! Ah hah hah! [<- read this in count von count's voice]

Aqua Hoshigan Status: (Still) white

LET'S

FUCKING

GO

After like 140 chapters and an RPF jumpscare, we finally get a continuation of 152's impromptu father-son therapy session and start digging into the real deal no bullshit Kamiki Hikaru's brain and his relationship with Ai. A lot of the stuff laid out here are things that I had personally speculated about in prior posts and it once again feels really satisfying to see that I've been keyed into what the series has been laying out for its characters now we're getting some answers.

Before digging into the meat of things, the usual shout out to Mengo's art for this chapter. I am repeating myself on this point to the extent that I say "i know I say mengo's art is really good every chapter, but" every chapter but holy fuck, dawg. The expression work, especially on Kamiki and Airi is so fucking good and the way it contrasts the movie's portrayal of those events is insanely effective. I am Once Again begging the universe to conspire events such that Mengo draws a horror manga someday pleeeeeease I have been so good

kamiki's production house being called EYES is so on the nose it looped back to being genuinely hilarious to me.

Honestly this chapter is soooooo hard to talk about w/o me wanting to just break down every single line of dialogue in it and I already know i'm gonna go sicko mode talking about the flashback so I'll broad strokes it for now. What I WILL say is that Hikaru fucking quoting the opening monologue of the series got me right in the gut. These last two chapters have been really laying it on thick with the volume 1 callbacks and while this too is ridiculously on the nose it did make me start barking like a fucking dog so who's to say if it's really good or bad.

Hikaru's POV here in general is just fascinating. It's so juicy finally getting some insight into his weird little brain right from the man himself. The way he's characterized here - or rather, the way Hikaru chooses to characterize himself - is extremely compelling. He seems resigned and weary, almost - surrendering himself to the role of the despicable villain with a sort of wry self-awareness that got a bit of a dark chuckle out of me.

What's most interesting though is the final exchange between the two of them. Hikaru dismissing the idea that Ai ever loved him is understandable but what really jumped out to me was Aqua's respose to this - he honestly seems like… not just confused but almost mad that Hikaru supposedly still doesn't understand Ai's true feelings.

also. can i just say. i earnestly and genuinely thought the DVDs had been completely forgotten and were never going to come back up. what a jumpscare.

real bold of aqua to say this is nonfiction after the whole rpf debacle btw

We transition at last into an actual honest to god flashback to his past from Hikaru's actual POV, the likes of which I didn't think we'd ever get lol. I take Hikaru's lack of quibbles with his portrayal in the movie and that the flashback begins at Airi and Uehara's funeral as an indication from the story that 15YL's portrayal of Hikaru and those events is true enough that it doesn't need to relitigate them and thus, we can analyze this flashback with those events as context.

Something I couldn't help but notice immediately is that Hikaru's hoshigans start off as white this chapter. Given the future/hope (white) futurelessness/despair (black) dichotomy the last handful of chapters seem to have cemented, I think this makes a lot of sense in representing that while Hikaru is certainly not over his trauma, he seems able to conceptualize a future for himself now that he isn't bound to Airi; he has escaped her grasp. Or so he's able to believe, for a moment.

God, Hikaru's little meltdown once he spots Taiki is so heartbreaking. Kindaichi obviously means well, but his words must have sounded like a horrifying curse to Hikaru - the idea that for the rest of his life, he would never escape what Airi did to him.

hikaru begging ai to save him is soooooooo…… augugugugugh. this is all in line with what i'd predicted for their relationship but seeing it actually on page is such a gut punch. I just feel so fucking sorry for both these kids - both of them so desperately hurt and trying to heal and struggling in their own ways.

Because like… man! Not to be like "this rape victim's trauma is so hard for this other person to deal with" but… yeah, I'm really glad that even in just the framing, OnK makes it clear what a tremendous weight and pressure this is on Ai. I've talked before about the potential for her need to love and be loved to lead her into unhealthy and codependent dynamics and I think the HKAI relationship (as seen from Hikaru's POV) is exactly the sort of thing I was imagining.

With that in mind, even though we haven't seen her side of the story (YET……. IF WE GET AI POV NEXT WEEK AUUUUAUAU CAN YOU EVE N IMAGINE), it's not hard for me to imagine why Ai might have needed to withdraw. Because the sort of love Hikaru wants from her - something utterly all consuming, all encompassing, a world containing only two people and shutting out everything else - is not something she can or wants to provide. She's too full of compassionate curiosity for other people to give her love exclusively to one person alone… especially if a certain two troublemaking twins are already in the mix.

Admittedly this is as far as I can go in my analysis of this bit until we actually see how the breakup as a whole went down because I am admittedly still very confused as to the timeline here lol. The impression I'd always gotten was that Ai and Hikaru broke up before the twins were born, but the pacing of the flashback places it after Airi died, which we know wasn't super long before the Dome concert but I feel like Hikaru looks way too fucking young to be like a 17-19yo person here…. so who even knows. Hopefully we'll get some clarification next chapter. In ether case, I do think the twins threw a wrench into the HKAI relationship one way or another so I guess we'll see.

The fact that we're actually getting the real deal HKAI breakup happening on-panel also makes me feel a bit less insane about the Movie Arc skipping over that in recording (though I still ain't ever gonna forgive not focusing on how everyone felt about filming Ai's death even when we do see the final product). That said, I do still have issues with it that I talked about in an ask just the other day so I'll just repeat what I said: "Not only is [the HKAI breakup and the 'I can't love you'] line given a huge amount of weight, so is the fact that Aqua and Ruby had seemingly misinterpreted or even actively twisted it. If that’s the case then I’d say it’s even MORE important for us to have seen what 15YL’s version of events looked like so the contrast with the real thing can hit all the harder."

We already saw that with this chapter having a page very strongly echoing a similar one from the Movie Arc, a direct representation of the real version of events the movie fictionalized and it hits like a truck. I mentioned it up top but fuck, man. Hikaru and Airi's faces here are incredible. Hikaru's blank, innocent expression contrasted with that vile grin on Airi's face with her hair splayed everywhere… if Frill's portrayal of her was like a snake, the real thing made me think of some kind of spider.

That same page also seems to imply that Hikaru didn't only suffer abuse under Airi but may have suffered CSA prior to meeting her that caused him to become hypersexual. This is, unfortunately, in line with the way a lot of CSA victims will cope with their abuse and it really surprised me to see this aspect of it portrayed the way it was with Hikaru - already an exceptionally rare sympathetic and tasteful portrayal of a male CSA victim's experiences in manga. I've said over and over that I'm really impressed with how OnK is handling this aspect of the story but it really does continue to catch me by surprise.

Hikaru only ever to hear 'I love you' as a lie, while Ai can only ever say it as a lie… ouuughhh that's juicy.

Moving on a bit, the Ruby/Hikaru parallels are still going strong… Hikaru's insistence that so long as he has Ai he can endure anything very strongly echoes Ruby's speech in 143 about how if she has Gorou, her oshi, then that's all she needs. This means Aqua/Ai parallel stonks are on the rise which makes me very happy. I also hope this is a lead in to more directly addressing something that has been quiet subtext for a while - how destructive the pressure of being someone's singular saviour can be and how unhealthy this dynamic is, even for the person being saved. The idea that isolation and a lacking support system causes dysfunction is something we see sort of gestured at across the series so I'd love to see OnK explore codependency more explicitly through this angle, too.

No break next week…! Going by the editor's note in the JP version of the chapter, it looks like we'll be continuing this flashback and getting some of Ai's perspective so I'm really looking forward to it. After what a slog to keep up with the Movie Arc turned into, it feels sooooo fucking refreshing to be getting material I feel excited and energized to chew on. It sure did take until the last arc to explore some of this though, huh………..

hey ai. why did you break up with your boyfriend while you were brushingyour teeth. are you okay.

[redflagshipwriter]

Hi, it's Tim (just Tim) chapter 6

Masterpost

San Francisco was a breath of fresh air. It would have been better if Dick wasn’t shepherding him there like the world’s most anxious and chatty herding dog. Tim halfway wanted to make a break for it to see if Dick would bark at him.

He nobly resisted the urge. He actually hadn’t gotten in trouble for going no contact. Incredibly, Bruce hadn’t noticed that he had been with Superboy. He must really be wound up about the Red Hood.

Speaking of- “What’s the Red Hood done that makes B think I’m the target to be concerned about?” Tim asked.

Dick looked a little ill. He clearly didn’t want to answer. “Well, he’s been pretty clear,” he said apologetically. “Very clear. A lot of metaphors about breaking off your wings that B is taking pretty seriously. It’s like English class all over again,” he complained. Dick scrunched up his face and gestured wildly with his long elegant hands. “There was this like, poetic reference that I didn’t get, but it was about stomping on a bird and crushing all their bones under your boot. B had to look it up.” He cocked his head to the side at the end.

…This guy was referencing poets B didn't know offhand, and they were meant to think he was some big scary thug?

“...So he’s, uh, well-read, then,” Tim concluded, adding it to the very short list of things they knew about the Red Hood. “Loser.”

“We shouldn’t say that,” Dick demurred, which meant ‘lol yeah.”

Tim gave the older bird a judgemental look for even trying as Dick typed in pass codes for Titan Tower. That was their whole thing as Bats. They took information and made deductions. This particular deduction made him feel cockier. While the big bad Red Hood had been wasting time reading, Tim had been studying the blade and uh, making out with a really hot guy. Heh. He couldn't hold in the self satisfied smirk. Hood was a loser. He could use his time much better than by reading moldy old books.

Dick stayed long enough to get Tim settled, but he was clearly anxious to get back to Gotham.

Tim was torn. On the one hand, he did not like essentially being benched. But… Well, he wasn't benched outside of Gotham, Tim decided, wandering through the shared kitchen and rummaging around for a snack. He could go on any Titans mission that came up. He opened the fridge and squinted suspiciously at something in the vegetable crisper.

He had always assumed someone really liked potatoes. But knowing what he did now, he wondered if those were Kon’s groceries. Did the guy just eat raw fruit like some kind of lunatic?

…Maybe no one kept potatoes there after all. He had thought it was weird since he never really saw anyone cook. Tim picked the suspect up and sniffed at it. This ugly thing was a fruit?

Well. He was brave and he was bold. Tim bit through the skin. His teeth sank in with much less resistance than he expected: not a raw potato. It tasted okay. This was Kon’s favorite flavor? Tim had another bite and mulled it over. It was alright. It wasn’t exactly bacon and artichoke pizza or sour cherry candy, though.

Huh. He shut the fridge door with his hip and made his way to his room, planning to drop off his travel bag.

A window opened and slammed shut nearby. Tim detoured to see who it was. His heart beat hard against his chest when he rounded the corner.

“Superboy,” he said casually, as if he hadn't been making out with the guy a couple hours ago.

“Hey, Rob.” Kon breezed past, obviously lost in thought. He stopped midair and frowned. “Do you smell mango?”

Tim hid the half eaten fruit in his utility belt. “No. Maybe you're just hungry.”

Gaslight gatekeep girlbossing worked, as always. Kon let out a “huh,” cocked his head, and zipped away to the kitchen.

Ah, hell. Tim realized he was smiling like a dope to the empty hallway. He wiped the expression from his face and hoped that no one ever reviewed that section of security tape. How embarrassing.

He hid away in his room for a while, letting tactics and plans stew away in his mind. He was hyper aware of the fact that Kon was somewhere in the tower. Was anyone else? He didn't know. He should check.

While he was at it, he should try and hack into whatever B was hiding about the Red Hood on the bat computer. Tim spun idly in his desk chair as he thought it over. Bruce was being twitchy. He wanted Tim so far away from the situation that Tim knew in his gut it would eventually be his problem. That was how this shit always worked; the most dramatic thing possible would happen.

He emerged from his room to find Kon in some kind of argument with Cassie. Tim decided to stay way the fuck away from that. He steered to the living room. Raven looked up from her book, expression flatly unamused.

“Robin.” She acknowledged. Then she looked away.

She was in a great mood, then.

He checked through the logs: it was just the four of them. As Tim watched, Cassie's status dinged to display ‘out of the tower’.

Just the three of them, then. And Raven wasn't going to come seek anyone out.

Tim went Kon hunting. Kon was sprawled out in his room, tossing something up and down. It glittered where it caught the air.

“Superboy,” he said, leaning on the doorframe casually. Did it look casual? Did it look douchey? Tim stood up straight before Kon looked up.

“Hey, Rob,” Kon said. He flashed his toothiest grin at Tim. Fuck, he was pretty. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk. Can I come in?”

Kon sat up on his elbows. “Come right the hell in, my dude.” He cocked his head to the side and a curl fell over his face. “Everything alright?” A smile tugged one half of his mouth up mischievously. “Come sit on my lap and tell me all about it.”

The thing was that Kon said shit like that all the time. He said it to Tim, he said it to Cassie, he said it to any number of civilians. Tim had thought that Kon was just being kind of a bitch to him.

“Thanks,” he said easily, and sat with his knees on either side of Kon’s thighs.

Kon’s mouth fell open. Tim waited, but no sound came out.

“I was actually wondering- you say things like that to me a lot,” Tim continued, feeling very smug. Haha, Kon hadn't just been needling him. He'd been pulling pigtails. He wanted Tim, what a loser. “A guy starts to get the impression that you're interested. And…” he dragged his gaze pointedly down Kon’s perfect body. “I'm not disinterested,” he finished coyly.

“Robin.” Kon swallowed visibly. “I uh. I'm really flattered.”

Ah. Fuck. Tim had a very bad feeling.

“I'm kind of seeing someone at the moment.” Kon’s voice cracked. “If- if I hadn't been, I would be all over this. But I am. So.” His hands hovered uselessly a few inches from Tim’s sides.

Well then. Tim slid off Kon’s lap. He didn't let howling frustration show on his face. He was cock blocking himself. “I see,” he said simply. “No worries. I'll see you around.”

“Right.” Kon’s voice cracked again. He shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes were wild.

Wow. Okay, so life isn't fair. It was good to know. Tim sulked his way back to his room. Well no, actually, he hated this information a lot. But it was useful for his prediction models. He should have known better than to think things would work out.

On the one hand, Kon was apparently loyal to his flavor of the week. Tim could choose to appreciate that, since he was flavor for early September.

Or he could be mad that he'd apparently chosen the wrong ID to flirt with Kon under. He paced an angry circuit in his room around the pile of things he was going to eventually reconstruct. Hell. Fuck. This sucked. Kon had a crush on Robin, the guy he actually knew. What a wasted opportunity!

He calmed down enough to think.

Of course that was when sirens went off. Tim booked it to the landing pad, pulling up the alert on his wrist computer on the way.

They had a mission. Okay. Tim compartmentalized away all the mortification. He could deal with it after they got back.

[lovechrissturniolo]

reading & answering

"weird" fan questions leads to more

* friends with benefits *

built up & foreplay

ends before the actual sex

short review

Y/N and Chris had been close friends for a while, but a week ago they had - by accident - become intimate: Y/N had spent the night at the Sturniolo's place after a party because she couldn't get a cab.

They both had been longing for physical contact. In Chris's cosy bed, cuddled up under the covers - the desire for each others touches had overcome them.

They agreed afterwards that it should remain a one-off incident. Their friendship meant a lot to both of them and nobody should get hurt.

now

Chris had just posted a story on Insta when the two of them were on the couch, Y/N lay on her side, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Can't wait to see the weird shit." Chris smirked, stretching and making a growling noise.

Y/N enjoyed the view as his body tensed:

his upper body in a black tank top

his stomach briefly to see

the waistband of his boxers peaking out

the outlines on the grey sweatpants

"I can't believe you're up for this right now." Y/N yawned, trying to distract herself from staring at his lap. "It's been such a long day!"

Chris slid a little deeper into the sofa and sighed deeply. "I don't know. I have so much pent-up energy in me - and my head's all over the place right now."

"Maybe I should go soon, it's pretty late." Y/N murmured as she saw the time on his lock screen.

"Nooo, you can't go now!" he replied, jokingly upset. "You have to go through this with me!"

Chris always became very cuddly when he was exhausted and hyper. It brought him down to feel her so close.

Y/N unconsciously put her leg over Chris' lap as she tried to find a more comfortable position. It was not unusual for them to lie cuddled up together, but Y/N immediately realized that it was risky now.

The tension between the two became more intense every day since they slept with each other a week ago.

"Look." he murmured, pointing at the screen. "I knew it wouldn't stop at one!" and pointed to a fan's question:

Favorite position sexually?

"Well, answer then!" Y/N said jokingly and looked up at him. "That's a fair question!"

"Pah," Chris felt a little awkward and rubbed his eyes to avoid eye contact. "I wouldn't even answer that to my friends!"

Y/N smirked. He looked so damn cute when he was a little bit irritated. "Maybe I already know."

Chris eyes got back to hers. "Because we had a drunken quickie once, you think you know everything, huh?" Her eyes being fixed on his lips as he spoke made him slightly nervous.

"Can I take a guess?" Somehow she liked it to tease him a little right now.

"Go for it."

"Regardless of my personal experience with our 'quicky' - I'd say you're the doggy kind of person?"

"Not bad!" he replied in a hoarse voice and cleared his throat. Their faces were so close together that he could feel her breath on his neck. "What's yours?"

"I like the way we did it the other day. Spooning cuddle sex-" Y/N realized that her teasing had the price of becoming increasingly aroused herself.

She lay her head back on his shoulder and took a deep breath. "But it depends, you know?"

Chris swallowed a lump in his throat. "Depends on what?" and wondered why he was even asking. He hadn't been able to think about anything else since they fucked last week. This conversation certainly wouldn't make it more bearable.

"To the mood, the situation, probably?" she mused. "I mean, I love cuddle fucking, but for harder sex, doggy style is wonderful. So rough and animalistic somehow..."

"Fuck yes." Chris rasped, leaning his head back and exhaling deeply, trying not to get too worked up.

"You should pick a new question." Y/N suggested to break the tension a little and leaned on her forearm.

"You pick!" he replied quickly and held the screen in front of her face. Y/N should be in charge of where it would lead, what she started.

It was only fair!

Y/N surrendered to the fact that she was dying to sleep with Chris again since they did it last week and chose another one of the "weird" questions:

Oral - giving or receiving

"Jesus, Y/N!" Chris groaned with a flustered laugh and put his forearm over his face.

Her squirming around, with her leg on his lap, while asking these questions started to make him crazy. "How about you start this time?"

"The questions are for you, not me." Y/N smirked and bit her lower lip.

"Alright." Chris returned somewhat desperately. "Hold on." He took a deep breath and his hand subconsciously reached for her leg to hold it in position.

Y/N's mouth went dry with excitement as she felt his clearly hardening member against her thigh.

"That's actually easy. I love both," he whispered, looking her straight in the eye.

"Same for me." she replied husky and glanzed at the screen again.

Tits or ass?

"That's a shallow question!"

"Why?"

"Because I don't look at tits or ass first."

Chris licked his upper lip with the tip of his tongue. "A nice neck is hot for me." and ran his finger along her neck.

"Waists are sexy, too." he added, tracing hers with his fingertips.

Y/N's pulse began to race and she got goose bumps from his gentle touch.

"Your mouth is beautiful." he added in a quivering voice and pressed his lips to hers.

Y/N put her hand on his chest and pressed herself against him while their mouths opened and their tongues met.

Chris pulled her on top of him and moaned softly from the pleasant feeling of her abdomen on his lap.

"Tits or ass?" he groaned between their kisses, put his hands on her breasts and pressed them gently. "Whatever I can reach..."

Y/N moaned from pleasure burrying her hand in his hair.

length of your dick?

she added breathless, "was one of the questions!" while her free hand wandered between his legs.

"Fuck, Y/N!" Chris moaned as she gently grabbed his cock and tilted the head in his neck from pleassure.

"One more exception wouldn't hurt, right?" she moaned in his ear.

"Fuck, you don't even have to ask!"

I love describing the built up/foreplay part more than the actual act, so I leave the rest to your imagination.

Hope you like it! 💕

⬅️ more

[seramilla]

So in human au after a few months of Emily's puppy eyes, Carmilla's not so subtle reminders that they are always welcome if they need a place to stay, the bills that never go away, the "dates" Carmilla takes Sera on that they don't call dates (Sera wouldn't have agree if Carmilla called it a date), and Sera's own longing to be near Carmilla and have the stable home life for her and Emily. Sera finally decides to take Carmilla up on her offer but not because of that. In one week Sera gets two pieces of bad news one the rent on the basement apartment she and Emily live goes up and she gets let go of her job. Those two things happen at the same time are the straw that breaks the camels back and when she is panicking on what she will do decides to go live with Carmilla. Because it took all of that to get Sera to over come her hyper independence and self deprecation and go ask to take Carmilla up on her offer and asks to move in.

Sera could not possibly be having a worse day if she tried. In some kind of cosmic, chaotic joke, the overseers of the universe had chosen the day she's supposed to move back into her refurbished apartment for two major catastrophic events to occur. She's sure both things are definitely, absolutely illegal, but there is nothing she can do about it. And the more she dwells on it, the more panicked she gets. How is she going to explain all of this to Emily? To Carmilla?

Sera's job had let her go that morning. Even though her performance review not even a few months prior had been perfect, apparently, taking so much time off work to take care of her and Emily's housing situation had broken some unwritten attendance policy. So her job had given her the boot. No warning, no severance; just handed her the pink slip and gave her 10 minutes to gather her things, and shoved her out the door.

Not even 2 hours after she'd returned to Carmilla's house upset, sobbing, and barely able to form a coherent sentence if her life depended on it, she receives an email on her phone. It's the lease agreement from her landlord. Her lease renewal had happened at some point during the entire flood fiasco, so he'd given her a grace period to renew. The only problem is, when she opens the email and reads the actual document, she finds her rent has gone up nearly 50% from what she'd been paying a month ago!

Sera had no knowledge of this. Her landlord had not informed her of a rate increase this drastic. Her rent went up almost every year; she had expected that. But not 50% overnight! She...she can't afford this! Her landlord states in the email that the justification is "long overdue improvements and upgrades to the unit", but Sera had not consented to this! He can't just...it's not right to just...do this to her! She and Emily are supposed to move back in tomorrow! What is she supposed to do now?

The state Carmilla finds her in when she gets home is practically catatonic. Sera is bent forward over the kitchen table, sobbing into the expensive wood, and Carmilla can barely get her to calm down and tell her what the problem is. Rather than try to explain, Sera just hands Carmilla her phone, waiting in silence for the other woman to absorb the meaning of the email on the screen. Once she's finished reading, Sera's lucky Carmilla doesn't break her phone with how hard she's squeezing it.

"Who the FUCK does this Adam guy think he is?! I'm going to skin that fucking bastard alive! I swear to god, I'm going to--!"

Carmilla catches herself from doing something drastic. She hands the phone back to Sera, literally forcing herself not to speak as she paces around the kitchen, stomping here and there. Whereas Sera's reaction to the news had been panic and heartbreak, Carmilla's is straight-up anger and righteous fury. Sera turns her head just enough to see the matriarch holding herself back from doing...something. She opens the fridge, then slams the door shut. Opens a drawer, then slams that shut, too. When there is nothing left to open or slam, Carmilla makes a frustrated RRRRGGGHHH sound under her breath, and plops herself down at the table beside Sera.

Both women just kind of exist in silence for a while, Carmilla trying to actively slow the blood that's pumping hotly through her veins, and Sera still trying to magic up a solution that will somehow solve all her problems.

Eventually, Carmilla looks over at her. Sera is still bent forward with her head buried in her arms on the table. Carmilla reaches over, touching the top of Sera's head softly. Stroking gently. A stark contrast to the way she'd been banging around in the kitchen a few moments before.

"Sera, I'm so sorry," Carmilla says, genuinely at odds with herself over what to say now. "I can't imagine what you're going through. I'm so...angry for you."

"That's not all," Sera says, voice muffled from inside her folded arms. Carmilla's head swivels back around toward her at that news. Sera still can't look her in the eye.

"It's...not?"

"I lost my job, too. They fired me. I have...nothing left, Carmilla."

Sera starts sobbing again just then. Not the pitiful, gross tears she'd been shedding when Carmilla walked in, but a loud, vocal wail. She cries aloud into her arms, just letting the stress and turmoil of the day out of her body in one fell swoop. Her shoulders quake, and her body is wracked and shaking. Carmilla just sits beside her, still stroking her hair, completely failing her dearest friend at all levels because she just doesn't know how to fucking comfort her.

So Carmilla does the only thing she can do. The thing she's been trying to do for weeks; that Sera has just ignored and turned down until now.

"Sera...I know I probably sound like a broken record at this point. And I'm not trying to control you or make your mind up for you. But I really must insist you take me up on my offer to stay here."

Sera lifts her head. Her face is shiny and ugly with tears. She tries to wipe them away with her hands, but uses her sleeves instead. She's still trying to fight against the small hiccups that handicap her speech centers. She looks at Carmilla, and groans.

"Maybe...if I have a few more weeks...I can find a new job...another place--"

"No, I mean permanently!" Carmilla tries not to shout. She takes Sera's hand in hers this time. Squeezes it hard, so that Sera can't ignore this any longer. Can't ignore her.

"Carmilla, you know I can't do that--"

"Why not?" Carmilla demands. She moves to stand, but she's absolutely not kneeling next to Sera in a pleading posture. That would be ridiculous of her.

"You keep saying that, but really, why not? Sera, think about this logically. You've already been living here. All of yours and Emily's things are here! We've already been a family. I can...I can take care of you. You must know how I feel about you--!"

"I know! I know! But I can't--!"

Carmilla is actually kneeling before her now.

"Why not?"

"I'm scared, okay! I've never had to rely on someone else before! I don't--I can't--let anyone else be responsible for Emily's life. I promised my mom and dad I'd take care of her--!"

"You are!" Carmilla insists. She's stroking Sera's cheek now, desperately trying to chase both her tears and fears away. "You've done such a good job with her! But sometimes being responsible is knowing when to ask for help! There's no shame in it! I'm not doing this because I think you can't do it. You've already done so much. I just want...to be selfish sometimes, too, you know? I want you both here with me. With us! Because I love you. I care about you and her!"

The words are out. Carmilla almost can't comprehend that she'd said it, but the words are out.

Sera had always thought big declarations of love only happened in movies. Yet it had just happened, right in front of her face, in a big elaborate kitchen she'd never be able to afford in 10 separate lifetimes. And the woman who she has feelings for in return, but has been too stubborn to act upon, has just laid all her cards out on the table in front of her.

It would be so easy. To just stay here. Be with her. Give Emily what she's always wanted. Sera had always been taught the easy way was not for her. But with no other options left...what is a single guardian with no job and no prospects supposed to do?

Sera sighs. Deep and ragged.

"I...I love you, too, Carmilla. So much. I just think...I don't know what I'm ready for, right now. I don't know how to move forward in a relationship when I'm feeling so low. I've got...so much on my fucking plate."

"That's okay!" Carmilla assures her, pushing her hair back that's fallen into Sera's face. "We don't have...to do anything about that right now. I just need to know that you and Emily are safe. I just want you here with me. We can work out the rest later. Is that okay?"

Yes. Yes, Sera can work with that. She just needs...to take things one step at a time. So she's not overwhelmed. As long as the housing problem isn't an issue...she can work with this. She can figure things out. With Carmilla's help.

So she says the words Carmilla and all three girls have been dying for her to say for the last month. She smiles, wiping the snot and residual tears away with the sleeve of her shirt, and just gives in to what she wants for a change.

"Okay...okay, Carmilla. If you'll have us, we'll stay here with you."

[gamerdog1]

Deadpool and Wolverine Review

If third time's the charm, Deadpool is the whole goddamn bracelet. I kinda grew up alongside the Deadpool movies. I saw the first one at overnight camp at 16, then saw the second in theaters at 18. Now, at 23, I feel like I've grown as a person, which means I can actually articulate how I feel about these films (though specifically, the newest one). I guess that whole 'wisdom comes with age' thing was right after all.

For starters, Ryan Reynolds absolutely kills it. I know the phrase 'born to play this character' is thrown around a lot, but it really fits here with him. Reynolds once again is a delight as Deadpool, with all his usual snark, pizazz, and heartfelt moments. He's always on point, either with a quick jab at another character, comical reactions, or his character's usual fourth-wall breaks.

He isn't always all happy-go lucky, though. The film, like the previous 2, has a story beyond gratuitous violence, one that centers on Wade Wilson's sense of inadequacy in comparison to other famous heroes. We see how his life has changed since the previous film (go watch that before this, it will not make sense otherwise), both for better and for worse, and watch him continue to grow as a person in a satisfying way. That, I believe, is what separates these movies from other ultra-violent movies of its type: that there is an emotionally-driven story, and it remains important beyond getting characters from setpiece to setpiece.

Though, that's not to say that this is some deep philosophical mediation on the character. Fear not, there's still as much, if not more, violent fight scenes and action here like the previous movies. After all, what would a Deadpool movie be without a few dozen (read: thousand) bad guys to kill, in creative and gorey ways? This film ups the ante, by giving more interesting fight scenes that revolve around different set ups (tower defense, 1v1 in a car, etc) to keep everything visually fresh.

There's never a dull moment in this film. Heart-to-hearts are full of little sneaky one-liners that take a minute to register. Tension between the two leads is thick enough to see, let alone cut with a knife. And all the while, the film keeps bringing in new reveals, fully using the 20th Century Fox backlog of C-listers to call back to this franchise's history, and keep them from fully being forgotten. Add that, with an army of multiverse Deadpools, and you've got yourself a film that even non-comic book nerds like me gush over.

Above all this, beyond the not-quite-irritating-like-most use of the multiverse, or the hundreds of liters of CGI blood shed, this movie did something so profound, I'm still reeling. It made me love Wolverine.

Growing up, Logan always felt like a gross old man type of character. The kind who pressures you to drink at a young age, and owns at least 20 guns that he refuses to part with. Any portrayal of his animal-ness always felt like lip service. But here... its like I've met him for the first time, and now I'm obsessed.

Hugh Jackman has practically been playing this character since I was born, but only here do I really feel like we get to meet Wolverine in full. No longer is he that hunched-over, stoic gruff weirdo that X-Men have around, now he's a deeply emotional character with valid reasoning behind it, and strong motivations. We are finally in an era where tough guy characters are being done justice and allowed to have emotions, and it is glorious.

X-Men Apocalypse gave us a taste of what he could do, but putting Wolverine in an R-Rated movie was the best decision anyone could have ever made. His animal fury is on full display here, and with a higher age rating, ever stab and slice is shown in bloody, glorious detail. Pairing him with another character who can take hits and survive, like Deadpool, was a match made in heaven.

The two are perfect foils, playing off each other in such a satisfying way that had me disappointed when it was all over. Deadpool has worked with bigger, tougher guys in the past, but Wolverine's short temper and guardedness go well with Deadpool's silly, jokester persona. Platonically, romantically, sexually, I don't care. They're meant for each other.

Above all, Deadpool and Wolverine is a loving send off to the studio that made the X-Men film franchise. Its a culmination of all the passion and hard work that went into those movies, and stands as a testament to how far we've come since the first X-Men hit theaters over 2 decades ago. With a film like this as a sample of what's in the future, we won't have anything to fear.

[moonlitlex]

i have so much to say abt chalice of the gods so im just gonna copy paste my review from goodreads here. you can also read it on goodreads

ok. i promised i would hate this book. and i do. i hate this book. i also hate rick riordan. in addition, i hate capitalism. i promise that’s relevant.

let’s talk about the book now. i’ll cover the things i love first. i love percy jackson. i love grover. i love annabeth. i love sally. i love paul. i love percy annabeth and grover together. all of these things are very obvious and self-explanatory. percy is hands down THE main character of all time. i have nothing bad to say about him. his literal fatal flaw is loyalty. he’s actually perfect and has no flaws. this is expected from the son of sally jackson, the perfect person. paul is sweet and kind to sally and that’s really all that matters. annabeth is awesome and supportive and so is grover and they’re all besties forever. you get it. you’ve read percy jackson.

the jokes are better than before. there are definitely some legitimately funny jokes in this book, which i was really missing from the last few rick riordan installments. and i don’t think this is because rick suddenly got funnier. i think it’s because this style of joke works for percy. of all of rick’s protagonists, percy seems the most natural fit for these jokes.

sally is great. grover and annabeth are generally on form. so is percy, as much as can be expected from rick riordan at this point. i will elaborate on this later.

now to complain. this is the stupidest premise i’ve ever heard of. percy is a high school senior. he is going to go to new rome university. he needs 3 divine recommendations. this is already a stupid premise but don’t worry, it gets worse. poseidon reveals that the reason percy needs these recommendations is that it’s a special requirement for him specifically made by zeus. and the reason he gets to have this stupid requirement is that he’s a child of the big three and shouldn’t exist.

hello. zeus. yes, lord zeus, it’s me. alexis.

what the absolute FUCK are you saying.

this doesn’t MAKE SENSE. the only reason percy shouldn’t have existed was that the gods had a stupid pact to not have any kids because of a stupid prophecy. two things here. one - that prophecy is OVER. everything turned out fine. thanks to percy jackson. you’re welcome, gods of olympus. two - percy has literally saved olympus TWICE now. two times. this is genuinely such a dumb and made up reason to send percy on a quest that i can’t even turn my brain off and enjoy it. it’s not fun. leave percy alone. LEAVE HIM ALONE.

it’s literally insane how stupid this setup is. rick keeps writing books about how the gods are horrible and take advantage of the demigods and the demigods live terrible lives. in this book, percy has LITERALLY saved olympus TWICE and motherfucking zeus (literally) had to be talked down from making him get 25 letters of recommendation to 3. this is AFTER percy spent 3 years in pjo almost being killed and got his memory wiped for 6-8 months depending on which book you read in hoo and then got sent on a quest to save the entire world AGAIN. this CHILD got like a 2-4 month break (depending on which book you’re reading) and he woke up with no fucking memory and had to spend like 2 more months fighting monsters and the literal primordial earth goddess. and now he has to go on literally pointless quests that someone who didn’t just get back home from saving the actual world could ALSO just do. because he needs to get some fucking letters of recommendation.

look. genuinely. percy jackson should snap at this point in the story. this boy should’ve snapped like at least 5 books ago. at minimum. rick wrote the perfect setup to show us percy’s instant descent into madness. he should LOSE it. all the gods have done for the ENTIRE time he’s known he’s a demigod is treat demigods like disposable tools. this is the point in the story where percy goes. wow. luke was right. you guys are all assholes who don’t care about us even a little bit. i am NOT saying what needs to follow is a fanfic-esque dark!percy story where he successfully destroys olympus or something. what i AM saying. is at bare minimum this is where percy goes you know what fuck you i hate you guys and washes his hands of being a demigod at least temporarily. at the very least he should sit back and think yeah, i don’t really want to go to new rome university. it’s not worth it. i will just go to a different university. look. it’s percy jackson. he can literally one shot all but the most fearsome monsters (typhon, the giants, a drakon, etc). he is literally going to be 100% completely fine going to mortal university AND he wont have to deal with zeus’s annoying ass.

listen. MY percy jackson wanted to kill smelly gabe as a 12 year old because he abused his mother. MY percy jackson doesn’t like bullies. MY percy jackson challenged ares to a fight just on the basis that ares was a fucking asshole.

MY percy jackson is not going on useless fucking quests to go to new rome university of all places.

which reminds me. why DOES he want to go to new rome university. this is percy jackson. he LOVES new york. why is percy “what did they do to my city” jackson going to university ACROSS THE COUNTRY from the city he loves. why is he doing that. and hey look. sally and paul (and soon estelle) are ALSO going to be in new york. so like WHY is he leaving for real. percy my fatal flaw is loyalty jackson. IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE OK! it’s percy he is seriously not going to have issues with common monsters attacking him. we literally saw him fight off titans and giants a fucking hellhound isn’t gonna get his ass. WHY is he leaving. it does NOT make sense.

there’s this scene ok. where sally tells them she’s pregnant. and percy’s like oh my god…. i’m going to be in california…. and my sister is going to be here…. and i was just sitting there going. yeah bro. why are you going to california. i literally do not understand. you literally are from nyc. you live here. your family is here. your friends from chb are like a short pegasus ride away. there are like 50 universities in new york. just go here. why are you leaving. you are percy jackson. being a new yorker is literally one of your defining traits. stay here. WHY AR EYOU LEAVING I DO NOT UNDERSTAND PERSEUS

and listen. if your argument is that annabeth is going to be in nru. why the FUCK is ANNABETH going to nru!!!!! WHY WOULD SHE DO THAT!!!! EXPLAIN IT!!!! percy LITERALLY says annabeth is such an overachiever she’s already run out of ap classes to take. he literally says that. why the fuck is this girl going to nru where let’s be real her admission is guaranteed. annabeth is 100% someone who would want to go to an ivy. and would you fucking believe it there’s an ivy right here in nyc. like let’s be fucking realistic here. annabeth started her architecture career at SIXTEEN designing the city the fucking GODS live in. so like. don’t you think she’d want to be a bit more challenged. don’t you think she’d want to go to a university that is actually recognizable to mortals. annabeth did NOT love new rome that much like did richard forget what he wrote. this girl was freaking out about new rome until percy said he only likes it because they could live together there. she literally does not care about new rome and she is WAY too ambitious and academically inclined to be happy with going to some small as uni 99% of employers have never heard of.

this isn’t even the worst character assassination in the book. that award goes to the way rick wrote percy. percy. my darling percy. my beloved percy. perseus jackson. light of my life. as i said before, he is MOSTLY on form. the him really wanting to cali thing is definitely ooc for him but it is NOTHING compared to the sheer amount of times rick portrays percy as stupid in this accursed novel. his internal monologue is constantly shit like i’m always so behind annabeth and omg i’m being so dumb right now and annabeth calls me seaweed brain because i’m an idiot and blah blah fucking blah.

dick riordan has forgotten that perseus jackson is, in fact, not stupid at all. he is INCREDIBLY clever. he is just not particularly academically inclined/not very book smart and it would also be perfectly understandable given the fucking books that riordan wrote to interpret that as percy being very discouraged from engaging with his studies. he genuinely enjoys chiron’s class at yancy because chiron is an engaging teacher and encourages him. he spends 90% of his time in pjo deducing what’s going on with extremely limited information because rick decided none of the characters can tell him anything because of plot and exposition reasons. in son of neptune he literally just coasts on having sherlockian (not bbc that’s a whole other angry review) powers of deduction. to the point where the characters around him are amazed at how he’s figuring stuff out. literally in house of hades annabeth’s pov’s are constantly her commenting on how she gives percy shit for being a dumbass but he’s actually really clever.

it genuinely feels like at some point during the writing of mark of athena rick decided to just slowly start making various fanon ideas canon. percy being stupid is very commonly accepted fanon because he doesn’t realize how smart he is (and fans don’t realize he’s an unreliable narrator) and the fans also love to infantilize characters with more in your face adhd (leo is another victim of this phenomenon). we’ve spent 5 books in percy’s head and he doesn’t think he’s particularly clever so it makes sense to ignore the mountains of evidence pointing towards his quick and creative thought process in favour of haha percy is dumb jokes.

the wild thing is, percy isn’t even that hard on himself in pjo. he obviously doesn’t see himself in the same way we later come to find out other people see him (mainly thinking about hazel and frank in son of neptune, which is the only time in hoo he genuinely feels like the same character as pjo percy) but he’s not really dealing with crazy self doubt and self esteem issues. he does have his down on himself moments but they’re all extremely understandable given the context because he literally faces impossible odds in every single pjo book. at one point he’s disappointed he couldn’t tell that ares and luke manipulated him… like yes bestie that’s a very valid thing to feel upset and betrayed about. it doesn’t mean that he’s actually stupid though and genuinely he comes across more as humble and not realizing just how awesome and cool and interesting he is than anything else. percy consistently shows that he is really clever. half of pjo is percy figuring out a new and interesting way of defeating his enemies and the other half is percy figuring out how to bait his enemies into a duel to improve his odds. it’s horrible what rick does to percy in his internal monologue.

it’s to an insane degree. yes i realize i have already written 500 words about percy not being stupid alone but i must stress how egregious this is. it’s literally characters who have previously acknowledged percy’s intelligence who start remarking about how he’s stupid. in house of hades percy and annabeth get out of fucking TARTARUS and reyna makes a jab about how percy wouldn’t be able to find his way out of a paper bag without annabeth. that is an INSANE thing to say for reyna and for rick. rick has not written a stupid character so it’s weird to make that something a character does without really trying to show them being wrong. from reyna’s perspective, this is a guy she was complimenting a few short weeks ago. this is a guy she immediately wanted to make a leader at the camp that she loves and is her home. this is guy she barely knows and she pretty much immediately proposes to him. WHY would she suddenly start making jokes about how dumb he is? it’s not like she actually knows him better now. he came to the battle with reinforcements and basically immediately dipped after the feast. how are we to accept reyna treating our beloved perseus in this horrific manner? we simply cannot. it is unnacceptable. this is inaccurate.

it’s so WRONG to do this to percy. yES I UNDERSTAND I HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT THIS FOR TOO LONG. I DON’T CARE. PERCY JACKSON IS MY BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE AND I NEED TO DEFEND HIM FROM THIS SLANDER. I AM ONLY PARTIALLY JOKING. listen. liSTEN. this is the guy whose signature move is manipulate your enemy into dueling with you when you’re outnumbered or outmatched. he very coolly manipulated bob into killing his own brother (btw this was very hot and sexy and clever and attractive perseus is king of gaslight gatekeep girlboss). he is NOT stupid. he is impulsive. he is extremely oblivious about some things. he is NOT stupid. i watched perseus jackson grow up for 5 books and he is not stupid. i always say this. i always say that percy is not stupid and richard riordan refuses to listen to me.

there are such horrendous lines as “i am a guy of limited talents. if i can’t kill it with water, a sword, or sarcasm, i’m basically defenseless.” richard how DARE you say this about my beloved perseus. he is NEVER like this. he literally would never say that. even at absolute worst percy’s internal monologue was “this plan is stupid and will get us killed. but it’s the plan i have.” he’s NOT a being defenseless guy. what hte fuck are you saying. richard did you read your own books. RICHARD. DID YOU. at one point he says that he is constantly several steps behind annabeth’s thought process. he has literally never thought this before and it is also untrue. richard. i hate you. read your own fucking books oh my god.

ok. i think i have sufficiently harped on the fact that percy is not stupid. now i will complain about another thing. and this was just in one part but it bothered me and this is my review so i get to talk about whatever i want. if you don’t like it read someone else’s review. don’t hate read my review. i didn't charge you money to read it

at one point, percy has to wrestle a god who hercules once wrestled. and annabeth says something about hercules brute forcing it. and look. i GET that hercules was freakishly strong. i get that. i understand it. but when annabeth says hercules just brute forced it they’re both like ah shit i can’t do that. perseus. beloved. you ripped the minotaurs horn off its head with your bare hands as a 12 year old with no training. you are literally insanely strong as is. that is an insane thing for a 12 year old to be able to do. hell, that would be an insane thing for a grown adult to do. i don’t think rick realizes how op percy is. he was so caught up in making percy cool (which is, you know, extremely understandable and right and correct percy jackson is the coolest man in fiction for a reason i get it) that he forgot that he made percy extremely unbelievably powerful too. with the curse of achilles he was potentially matching minor gods in power level. he fights while sustaining mini-hurricanes and explodes glaciers and shit.

some more things. the prose is… acceptable. the plot reads like a fever dream. there is a smoothie shop called himbo juice that annabeth percy and grover are evidently regulars at. and there are. himbos. that serve. juice. so you can imagine what this fever dream looks like. like the last couple rick riordan releases, this one reads like published fanfiction too, just with better quality of writing than the sun and the star.

there are some WEIRD continuity errors in here. one of them is fairly minor but i still noticed it - percy says his father compared his mother to a princess. this is not true. poseidon compared sally to a queen. specifically, he called her “a queen among women”. i know this because i am sally jackson’s number 1 fan.

more egregiously, however, is annabeth’s yankees cap heebie jeebies. percy puts on annabeths’s cap and gets the heebie jeebies while using it. and then he goes wow annabeth. you never told me that using the cap is like this. and annabeth is like yeah well. power is like that. richard. riordan. did you fucking FORGET that percy has, in fact, worn annabeth’s cap before. and it was literally completely. once again, richard, did you read your own books.

one more good thing - when percy fights geras/gary, who is the god/personification of old age, the way he does it is by imagining him and his friends getting older and embracing it. this was a genuinely good and sweet moment and it was very touching. the trio’s talks about this after the fact are also absolutely a return to form from riordan. for like, a few paragraphs. but still.

the biggest problem is just how obvious it is that this book is a cash grab. we had pjo. then we had a sequel series. then we had ANOTHER sequel series. and now we’re getting random standalone novels that are extremely unnecessary and don’t add anything. rick riordan has dollar signs in his eyes. these are not stories that make sense. these are not stories rick genuinely wanted to tell. these are stories that are being told because the purpose of publishing books now is to maximize profit. (sidebar - i told you the capitalism thing would be relevant. you should believe me more often. smh) the only reason rick is still writing these books is that they make money. they feel extremely empty and hollow.

percy is trapped as a teenager forever because rick refuses to let him age up. percy accepting old age would make FAR more sense for a percy who’s in his 20’s and just now realizing that he lived past all the shit he thought was going to kill him and he has a real life that he likes and he could actually grow old now. but percy must be a child for marketing purposes, so he stays a child. the world itself is trapped in a cycle of the gods promising they’ll be better and the gods literally not changing at all. and for the sake of the book series, it can’t change. if we had real change in the world, that would actually mean something, silly. we can’t have consequences. we have to reset every 5 years like a fucking comic book so that we can make infinite money. this is the infinite money glitch irl. just make trash that doesn’t need to be made. the end point of capitalism is making trash no one asked for that has no artistic merit just because you can make money off of it.

by the way, dr emily wilson’s iliad translation, which was also out on the same day, is LESS expensive than this book. this cashgrab nonsense novel is MORE expensive than a book a professor in classics who has a phd spent 4 years on. this is just wrong. the fun and stupid cashgrab book should NOT be more expensive than a book that someone spent 4 years meticulously translating from ancient greek. it’s just so clear and in your face. trials of apollo absolutely felt like a cashgrab but at least there was SOME semblance of effort there. this is literally just the most plain and simple cashgrab novel you can make.

hey. you know the infinite monkey theorem? the infinite monkey theorem is that a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type any given text including shakespeare. richard riordan is a monkey with a typewriter. you get it. you’ve read percy jackson.

rick riordan struck gold with pjo. it’s genuinely to this day one of my favourite things i’ve ever read, flaws and all. it’s FUN. it’s COOL. it’s THEMATICALLY COHESIVE. the characters grow and change. they feel like real people with personalities. it literally doesn’t even matter how op percy is because THAT’S how good of a character he is. he is so compelling that you want to read about him anyway even though you can tell right from the minotaur fight that this kid can decimate whatever opponent he has. the books are funny and moving because you can genuinely connect to these characters. the more i read rick riordan’s work, the more certain i am that pjo was a fluke. i don’t think he knows what he’s doing. i think he should retire from writing.

unfortunately for me, richard riordan seems to have no intention of retiring. he has announced another percy jackson book that will be released next year. i assume there will be at least 2 more books based on the setup in this one.

rick. listen. i know you’re listening because what else will you do with your time. rick, why are you doing this. hasn’t percy been through enough. when will it end. give it a rest. stop it. get some help. at the very least, read your own books before writing percy. i am right about him and you are wrong about him. you are the author and i’m killing you right now. i am strangling you and i am hitting you with weapons. all at once. i am very proficient at causing deaths. (this is a metaphor referring to roland barthes’ death of the author. i wish no bodily harm to richard riordan).

this book is… alright. percy is my smart king. sally jackson is queen of my heart. it’s a fun read but you do have to turn your brain off completely and read through some serious percy defamation.

[edit: i am downgrading this book to one star (was at 2). the more i think about it, the more angry i am. there is literally a paragraph tailor made to rub jason's death in our faces. it's about how he looks forward to getting old being married to piper and having grandchildren. it's a very low blow. jason is literally rick riordan's biggest missed opportunity and he's rubbing in how poorly he treated jason even after killing him off for apollo's character development.

annabeth still keeps putting percy down because rick doesn't realize how mean she is i guess. she's still scared of him. canonically. which is a really weird and fucked up thing to write imo. this relationship doesn't seem healthy in canon (they are healthy in my head, however, because i know what women are like) but rick refuses to address it or let them break up. i LOVE annabeth. i love her. but she is an extremely flawed character and rick never treats her as such. and it just makes it exhausting to read about her.

percy IS on form but it genuinely feels like he's tlt percy, not post hoo percy. his inner voice sounds way more immature than it has for most of pjo and in son. riordan also repurposes the "look, i didn't want to be a half-blood" line from tlt to make a dumb little joke about how high school is hard. it was a GOOD opening line. it immediately set the tone and told us so much about percy in literally just a handful of words. now it's a joke about how being a senior in high school sucks. it's this mcu-esque allergy to being sincere that pjo never had.

there is BARELY any grover in this book. i love grover so much that i was cheering any time he was there, but there is very little of him. he's in like 2 or 3 scenes and has his own side plot going on with juniper and being bad at understanding what his girlfriend wants or whatever. extremely unnecessary and not what i want for grover. this book kind of ends up feeling like it's about annabeth but from percy's perspective. she gets good moments at percy's expense. percy spends the book monologuing about how annabeth is way smarter than him and all he has is his sick ass water powers and the best swordfighting skill in 300 years, both of which are very downplayed. percy explodes a river and it's treated like this crazy freaky scary thing but two years ago in universe he made a volcano erupt and everyone was like yeah this makes sense percy is that powerful. in son he explodes a glacier and it's just a normal tuesday for him. he literally doesn't even react to it. and now we're supposed to believe his exploding and purifying a river feat is some unbelievable feat.]

in conclusion, i want a refund. no i did not purchase this book. however, i would like to be reimbursed about $5000 in emotional damages. i will also be suing richard riordan for defamation on percy’s behalf. good night new york city. and my beloved perseus jackson who lives in new york city.