#new fun ideas for corporal punishment or whatever

[agendratum]

The punishment I used on the criminals in the Ministry of Justice was somehow lacking. I heard that Official Ren has a knack for corporal punishment. Hence, I want to seek her advice.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

march fic madness rec list

TYSM to @the-blind-assassin-12 for this absolutely awesome idea of reccing 63 fics over 31 days as a "march madness" for fic engagement!

based on these challenge guidelines, I'll update this list with my recs as the month goes on.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

key:

💀 dead dove | 🏴 dark | ⛓ bdsm | 💕 fluff

note: these are in order that I read and reblogged; the number is not a ranking of any other sort

"a kindness you can't afford" by @joelscruff 🏴 (dark!Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: there are no limits to how or when joel plays with his special girl.

2. "sweet days of summer" by @ozarkthedog (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: you and joel sneak away for a quick fuck during a family outing.

3. the gift of your grave by @gasolinerainbowpuddles (Dave York x Frankie Morales)

summary: Max has elbowed his way into a prestigious, high paying corporate career, and he enjoys the luxuries it offers – primarily, doing what he wants, getting what he wants, and never wavering from making himself the top priority. Enter Frankie, the contracted corporate pilot who’s on the upswing after a long line of struggles and mistakes. When his recovery is compromised, will Max give in to the desire to put someone else first? Will Frankie allow himself to believe he’s worthy of being put first?

4. "between two lungs" by @ozarkthedog (Joel Miller x f!reader x Tess Servopolous)

summary: you join Joel and Tess mid fuck.

5. "Swelter" by @notjustjavierpena (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

6. "you wanted this" series (ongoing) by @alwaysmicado (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Joel and you have a fun dynamic going. You provoke him, he punishes you - you both get off. When you meet him after you’ve fucked someone else, he decides to show you who you belong to. It’s all fun and games, right?

7. "smother" series (ongoing) by @beardedjoel 🏴⛓(dark!Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: can you hold a man as both your savior to be worshipped and the monster that he is?

8. the dress series (complete) by @janaispunk ⛓ (Dave York x f!reader)

summary: You’re having an affair with Dave York. When he takes you on a week-long vacation, you realize that you have deeper feelings for him than you should.

9. "Enjoy the Silence" by @strang3lov3 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position.

10. "glory o" by @milla-frenchy (Javi P. x f!reader x Steve Murphy)

summary: you work in a brothel, and two guys want to try something new

11. "fine art" by @lincolndjarin 🏴(dark!Javi G. x f!reader)

summary : you were an up and coming actress, javi is your biggest fan, he’d do anything to have meet you.

12. "the end of the world" by @studioghibelli (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: you had a strict relationship with joel that stuck to the rules. fuck, leave, repeat. it was only a matter of time until feelings were dragged into the mix. when joel leaves at the first sign of love, you’re left wondering what you had done wrong. 

13. "run rabbit" by @mermaidgirl30 🏴⛓(Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: At the beginning of every month, you meet Joel to play a little game of hide and seek at the abandoned mansion near Jackson. It’s not just any game of hide and seek though. It’s dark and it’s twisted. If he catches you, he gets to do whatever he wants with you.

14. "All The Fear and The Fire of The End of The World" by @criticallyacclaimedstranger (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Joel has told Ellie about what happened in Salt Lake City, and she is livid with him. Seeking comfort with you, Joel however finds you in the grips of a nasty flu, and has to put his own needs aside to nurse you.

15. "men like me" series (ongoing?) by @lokischocolatefountain 🏴⛓ (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Joel’s warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more

16. "seasons of you (year 1 - spring)" by @kedsandtubesocks (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: it’s your very first spring living in the valley & you’re very sure Joel Miller already wants you leave

17. dress up joel series (ongoing) by @covetyou (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: when a mysterious stranger breaks into your house, and keeps breaking into your house, he gives you the fright, and the ride, of your life. Welcome to your seasonal encounters with one Mr. Joel Miller.

18. "savior" by @ozarkthedog (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: joel saves you from a crooked qz guard and you want to thank him properly aka joel fucks you in an alley.

19. "sweet release" by @cavillscurls ⛓ (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: the aftermath of finishing without joel’s permission.

20. "over the edge" by @ilovepedro ⛓ (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Joel agonizingly taunts you before pushing you over the edge.

21. "confines" by @gutsby 🏴⛓ (dark!Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: dark!Joel explaining to you how reader-proofed the bunker, because you're his now and he's never ever letting you go.

22. "sir" by @honeyedmiller (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: ceo!joel miller x f!reader drabble

23. "touch" by @morallyinept (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Inspired by that GIF. You know the one. Yeah. Nuff’ said.

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. ��Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[magz]

These are my most pertinent views: (long)

Pro-recovery, pro-autonomy, pro-harm reduction, anti-stigmatization, and anti-psychiatry. This does not mean I am anti-medication or anti-drugs, but that I am anti-medical abuse & against psychiatric and carceral institutions’ abuse of power. Try not to insult people for struggling to recover.

Pro-workers’ unions and worker’s rights, anti-capitalism.

Abolish police and abolish prisons. Police brutality and state violence is not the answer.

People’s value is not just in "intelligence" and physical ability and "usefulness" and "productivity". ALL disabled people matter.

Decriminalize sex work. Decriminalize drugs and drug users. Punishing and traumatizing the vulnerable and stigmatized, does not help them!

Fiction and media affect reality. This does not mean that “playing video games automatically makes you a serial killer”, however media depictions affect what you internalize. News, shows, books, games, videos, social media, etc.

Media consumption alone (including entertainment, theory, and social media) is not peak activism. You cannot consume your way into liberation, especially not the content from big corporations or white academia, as the only thing. There should be variety. Valid criticism is good.

I like to actually “chew” and question things, and criticism is my love language.

It is valuable to be careful what you normalize online. Including bigoted 4chan memes, digital blackface, positive & neutral depictions of inappropriate animal interactions and abuse, crossing reasonable personal boundaries publicly, posting memes of bystanders whose photo was taken without permission, etc.

Generally, people deserve to be treated well and helped to thrive on a community level, this includes children as best as you can.

Assimilationist and essentialist-focused methods for social progress will exclude the ones that do not fit in (example: “I’m not like other people in my group, I’m more respectable”). Even the nonconforming or multiply marginalized members of a community deserve respect and human rights.

You do not need dysphoria to be trans. The idea that you do, comes from transmisogynistic and medicalist origins (Sandy Stone’s “The Empire Strikes Back” explains part of this).

Gender and language can be decolonized. Bigotry and biases is often embedded in our language and common phrases, and it’s ok for people criticize it even if it’s “normal”.

You cannot truly be a trans-inclusive radical feminist. People should examine what radical feminist ideology and gender essentialist ideals they have internalized or taken as true, even if they think they haven’t.

People should unpack and confront their biases in general. We are always growing.

I personally at least try to avoid body shaming and stuff, it’s overly mean. It’s weird to make fun of someone for being fat, balding, “being ugly”, facial disability, or whatever else. Because that’s usually what’s happening when people do that. And I really don’t think people’s appearances is equal to people’s moralities and worth.

Pro-Palestine. Killing, oppressing, and displacing so many people can never be justified. Don’t be antisemitic, however. Decolonize Palestine.

Pro-landback movement, and decolonization in general. This includes questioning default ways of thinking, information, language, etc. Do mutual aid, helping community online and irl if possible. (Link is wikipedia)

I do not want to have a doomed mindset about the world. We all should do what we can.

Pro-heaux womanist (Links are thotscholar’s explanation. I do not fully agree with a few phrasings but it is good.)

[maxwell-grant]

Might I please jump in with the suggestion that, while making Superman a Pulp Hero can be a little tricky, making LEX LUTHOR a Pulp Hero would be peculiarly easy? (In fact making him a Pulp Hero without making major alterations to his fundamental character might be far more difficult - given how much of a self centred jerk the man is).

Funny you mention that because, while I haven't read the comic enough to really speak much of it, that kinda seems to be the basic premise of Chris Roberson's Edison Rex, a comic about a supervillain who has to step in as Earth's protector after defeating his superhero enemy, with the titular character being a Lex Luthor-analogue who looks like Doc Savage with Thomas Edison's haircut.

In fact, the idea of Thomas Edison as a protagonist is not even a unique one, not when one of the earliest examples of dime novel sci-fi was named after him. Just as popular in it's heyday and irredeemably reprehensible as the man itself even. If you want to imagine how Lex Luthor looks like as a pulp hero, all you need is to look at the genre called "Edisonade", starting in the 1870s, and you'll see why you wouldn't even need to make that many substantial changes to Luthor's fundamental character if you were to try to pass him off as a dime novel sci-fi protagonist. Not just because pulp supervillains already starred in stories and magazines as is, but because Edisonade as a genre is already built to accomodate characters like him.

The term "edisonade" or "Edisonade" – which is derived from Thomas Alva Edison in the same way that "Robinsonade" is derived from the hero of Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe – can be understood to describe any story dating from the late nineteenth century onward and featuring a young US male inventor hero who ingeniously extricates himself from tight spots and who, by so doing, saves himself from defeat and corruption, and his friends and nation from foreign oppressors.

The Invention by which he typically accomplishes this feat is not, however, simply a Weapon, though it will almost certainly prove to be invincible against the foe, and may also make the hero's fortune; it is also a means of Transportation – for the edisonade is not only about saving the country (or planet) through personal spunk and native wit, it is also about lighting out for the Territory.

Afterwards, once the hero has penetrated that virgin strand, he will find yet a further use for his invention: it will serve as a certificate of ownership, for the new Territory will probably be "empty" except for "natives". Magically, the barefoot boy with cheek of tan will discover that he has been made CEO of a compliant world; for a a revelatory set of maxims can be discerned fuelling the entrepreneurial engine of the edisonade: the conviction that to fix is to patent: that to exploit is to own - Sci-Fi Encyclopedia's entry on Edisonade

The Edisonade, coined by critic John Clute after the Robinsonade, can be defined simply enough: it is a story in which a young American male invents a form of transportation and uses it to travel to uncivilized parts of America or the world, enriches himself, and punishes the enemies of the United States, whether domestic (Native Americans) or foreign.

The Edisonades were almost entirely an American creation and appeared in dime novels as serials and as complete novels. They were the single largest category of dime novel science fiction and were the direct ancestors not only of 20th century boys’ fiction characters like Tom Swift but also one of the fathers of early 20th century science fiction, especially in the pulps. And the Edisonades were among the most morally reprehensible works of fiction of the 19th century, on a par with the dime novels the Confederacy published to glorify slavery - Jess Nevins's article on Tom Edison Jr

Fun for the whole family!

Granted (and thankfully), Edisonades as a specific genre died down in popularity following the end of dime novel, although you can very easily see how their influence lingered on much of sci-fi as we know it. It makes for a rather interesting coincidence even that, in the turn of the century, as the dime novels and the Edisonades died down in popularity and the pulp magazines proper started to take their place in American culture, the Mad Scientist began to arise in popularity as a stock villain to the point you can make a drinking game out of reading pulp novels where the kind professor with a weird invention turns out to be a cut-throat master villain.

The Mad Scientist as an archetype, which is what Luthor started as, actually seems pretty much non-existant prior to the 1890s (the term seems to have only caught on somewhere after 1893 following the World's Fair Columbian Exposition) and only really started taking shape in the 1900/1910s following the influence of German Expressionism villains and characters like Fu Manchu (far from the first yellow peril mad scientist, but definitely the most popular) and the myriad of pulp villain, even pulp villain magazines, named after some form of "Doctor" (Doctor Death, Doctor Satan, Doctor X, etc)

I'm not particularly fond of Arch-Capitalist Luthor and I'm not gonna be the billionth guy online to talk about the relevance of that take on Luthor, because my preferred take on Luthor is more on the Emperor Scientist / Ubermensch Arch-Asshole, the kind that's not so much a stock villain archetype because he doesn't have to be, because "Lex Luthor" has practically become it's own archetype, you know it when you see it. I would prefer to emphasize a Luthor who's got more in common with pulp sci-fi supervillains who starred in their own stories, but the stories themselves had no delusions about what the characters were. And I think Luthor can make one hell of a protagonist in this regard.

In another place, under different circumstances, this man might have been a Caesar, a Napoleon, a Hitler, or an Archimedes, a Michelangelo, a da Vinci. A Gautama, a Hammurabi, Gandhi. But in this place, at this time, he was more. Superman made him more.

As an artist saw objects as an amalgam of shapes, as a writer looked upon life as a series of incidents from which plots and characters could be constructed, Lex Luthor's mind divided the Universe into a finite number of mathematical units.

The time he had spent in jail so far this year was three months of thirty days each, three weeks, six days, two hours, and sixteen minutes. This included four weeks, one day, and three hours in solitary confinement during which time he could do nothing more useful than count seconds and scrupulously retain his sanity.

There were other super-criminal geniuses in the world; he had met some of them, dealt with them on occasion. They were chairmen of great corporations, grand masters of martial arts disciplines, heads of departments in executive branches of governments, princes, presidents, prelates, and a saint or two. Unlike Luthor, these men and women chose to retain their respectability. They had trouble coping with honesty.

Luthor was not motivated by a desire for money, or power, or beautiful women, or even freedom. In solitary Luthor decided that his motivation was beyond even the love or hate or whatever it was he had for humanity. It was consuming desire for godhood, fired by the unreasonable conviction that such a thing was somehow possible.

He began by being an honest man. He was a criminal and said so. - The Last Son of Krypton, Chapter 12

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: reading canon eris discourse literally makes me dizzy but in this fic he's pretty chill

***

“Any plans for Thanksgiving?” Emerie asks as they stroll between the shelves of the library.

Nesta runs her finger down the spine of a textbook on corporate law. “Not really,” she murmurs distantly.

She’s been doing her best not to think of the upcoming holidays, in fact. Cassian is going to Velaris for Thanksgiving, and of course Feyre invited Nesta as well, but…

She’s always ignored her sister’s holiday invites, but this year is different. Cassian, a recent constant in her life, will be gone, enjoying himself for the first time in months without her presence. And Nesta will be at the cabin alone, because of course she can’t celebrate Thanksgiving with Feyre’s found family. Being friends with Cassian hasn’t changed that.

“Well,” Emerie is saying, “a bunch of us can’t go home for the holidays for one reason or another, so we’re hosting a small Friendsgiving at my apartment. You’re invited.”

Nesta glances at her, surprised. “Who’s going to be there?”

“The same guys from drinks night: Eris, Justinian, Isaac. Maybe a plus one or two if we’re lucky.” She elbows Nesta. “Maybe a girl for me to take home.”

“I thought the party was at your home already?”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, are you coming?”

Nesta purses her lips. “But you said it was a Friendsgiving. Those guys aren’t my friends.”

Emerie looks at her like she's insane. “Uh, why not?”

“Because,” Nesta states, “we’ve only had one real interaction all semester.”

Emerie scoffs. “You talk to them all the time in class, Nesta.”

“Yes. Out of necessity.”

Emerie raises a high brow. “That’s how you view spending time with us? A ‘necessity’?”

She’s upset, and Nesta doesn’t know what she said wrong. “That’s not what I meant,” she tries to say.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just…” Nesta shrugs. “I thought it took more to make friends than a single night out.” Those are the rules, right?

Emerie narrows her dark eyes at her. “I’m sorry we’re not up to standard, then. But for your information, those guys liked you. I’m sure they considered you a friend.” She turns to leave, but Nesta is so stunned she can’t even try to stop her. The click of Emerie’s heels resonate long after she’s gone.

“Hey,” Cassian comes up to her later that day. “About Thanksgiving—”

Nesta drops her dinner plate onto the island with a clatter. “What is it with everybody and Thanksgiving?” Her voice is unnecessarily loud.

Cassian blinks. “Well, it’s only a few days away—”

“I know,” she says. “I’m fine staying home alone. We never celebrated Thanksgiving growing up, you know? It’s really not a big deal.”

“Will you let me finish, Nesta?”

Nesta presses her lips together.

Cassian takes a breath. “I think you should— I would really love it if you came to Velaris with me this weekend.”

There’s a silence as he waits for her to answer.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says after a moment.

Before he can press the subject, she blurts, “I already have plans.”

“You do?” Nesta can’t tell if he sounds disappointed or surprised.

She straightens her back, lying through her teeth, “Yes. Some friends from school are getting together for a Friendsgiving, and I’m going.” She almost bites her tongue on the word friends. She doesn’t even know what that means anymore.

“That’s amazing,” Cassian says, though he still looks a little taken aback. “I’m glad.” He looks down at the marble counter then, trying to smile. “Sucks for me, though.”

Nesta huffs a laugh. “Please, like you won’t be having fun with your friends whether I’m there or not.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but why go for half the fun when I could go for double?”

“That’s not how math works,” she snipes.

Cassian grabs a fork so he can sit down across from Nesta. “Don’t you ever bring up correct math in this house again.” He points his silverware at her threateningly.

From there, they can devolve into their usual dinner habit of bantering that leads to more serious conversation. Cassian has recently been on a French movie binge, Nesta learns, and even though she despises the French, she listens closely to his analysis of each film and offers her own thoughts back. She even promises to rewatch one or two of his favorites at a later time. The giddiness he gives in return makes her almost wish she had accepted his invitation earlier, if only so she could keep making him happy.

God. What is he doing to her?

Later that night, Nesta pulls out her phone and opens up her messages with Emerie. She doesn’t want to have rejected Cassian just to end up staying home alone all weekend. She types out five different messages and erases them before settling on an apathetic, Is the invite for Thursday still on?

Emerie takes her time to reply, likely to punish Nesta. After some minutes, she finally texts, Yes.

It’s all she can expect from Emerie, and it’s all she needs to see.

Nesta: I’ll be there.

***

“Cassian!” Feyre swings open the door with an overjoyed smile, ready to greet him.

He laughs and steps in for a hug, going so far as to lift her feet off the floor. Because damn him, even with his conflicted feelings towards Feyre lately, he’s missed her. He’s missed all of his friends, even though he’s found something precious while he was away from them.

He’s ushered into the penthouse, which Feyre and Rhys insist on calling an “apartment”, as if that softens the blow of their extravagant wealth. Cassian and everybody else goes along with it, however, because the rich have committed worse crimes. At least that’s what Nesta says.

“Rhys is out getting last minute beer from the gas station,” Feyre says as she takes his overnight bag. “And you’re the first to arrive, which means I have you all to myself.” She whirls on him with a predatory gleam in her eye. “Tell me everything about the last two months with you and Nesta, ASAP.”

Cassian’s heart starts racing at the unexpected interrogation, but he laughs it off and shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just roommates.”

“Well, I know that.” Feyre rolls her eyes. “But what is it like? How is it going? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

Before he can answer a single question, Feyre goes on. “I haven’t heard from either of you in eons, it feels like. Is Nesta still picky about her foods touching? Does she get upset when you play music too loud? Does she—”

“Jesus, Feyre,” Cassian interrupts loudly. “Not everything in my life is about your sister. Give it a rest.” He takes his duffel bag back from her.

“I’m just curious!” she says indignantly, but Cassian is already heading up the winding stairs to his guest room, going as fast as he can without outright running.

“I need to get washed up!” he announces before Feyre can make him stop and come back for more questioning.

In the safety of his bedroom, he releases a breath.

If Cassian thought keeping Nesta’s health issues from Feyre was difficult, he couldn’t have predicted how painful it would be to hide his feelings for Nesta. Still, he doesn’t dare expose what he can’t yet define, especially not to his nosy-ass friends. Some things just aren’t matters for gossip.

***

Nesta hesitantly enters Emerie’s small studio apartment to a party in full swing; “full swing” being Justinian and Isaac playing video games on the couch while Emerie is in the kitchen area attempting to make drinks. Nesta stops near the kitchenette and crosses her arms, surveying the scene. “Something about this doesn’t look right,” she says aloud. Emerie doing the hard work while the men play? Antithetical to her very nature.

“I know,” is all Emerie says without looking up from whatever hellish concoction she’s whipping up. “But I’m the host, so this is my role.”

“Hey, Nesta,” the guys speak up together, not taking their eyes off the TV. Isaac is the first to break his concentration from the game, glancing at Nesta and doing a double take. “Woah, you look good today.” Is he blushing?

Emerie finally looks up at that, eyeing Nesta’s modest black dress. “A little funeral-chic, but still hot as ever, babe.” Right after, she makes a face at the term babe. “Nope, I tried it and I hate it.”

Nesta hates it just as much, but goes over to help Emerie with what she now realizes are oddly colored Jello shots. She picks up a little plastic cup with dark jelly in it and wiggles it around. “What color is this supposed to be?”

“Brown.” Emerie blows a piece of escaped hair out of her face. “They were supposed to be Thanksgiving themed.”

Nesta surveys the shots arranged in various fall colors. Definitely an interesting choice for a twenty-four year old law student, but what did Nesta know about parties?

“Where’s Eris?” she asks casually as she helps arrange more cups. Her argument with Emerie is far from forgotten, but the two women are too alike for their own good. They’ll ignore the lingering tension until it dissipates, and that will be the end of that.

Before Emerie can answer Nesta’s question, a loud bang comes from the entryway as the already open door hits the wall. Eris Vanserra sweeps inside in his designer coat and sophisticated boots, followed by a new, striking face. “It’s fucking freezing,” he announces, just as the new guy quietly shuts the door behind them.

“You’re late,” Emerie says in her usual flat tone.

“I had to pick up my twerp brother.” Eris tilts his head toward the redhead behind him.

“I didn’t ask to come,” the new guy, Eris’s brother, chimes in.

Nesta is perked up now, angling to get a better look at him. Same hair color, same eyes, different skin tone from Eris. He looks like the relaxed, unpretentious version of his brother. Someone pauses the video game.

“I’m Lucien,” he awkwardly raises a hand.

Justinian looks at everybody else. “I’m confused— does this mean we can finally replace Eris’s punk ass?”

The thought of an unexpected guest first makes Nesta clench up, especially when she’s seated right next to the damn guy at the dining table. New people means everything about the regular social routine will be changed up, and she isn’t at all prepared for it.

It takes maybe fifteen minutes for her to realize that Lucien is nothing to worry about— much quicker than she’s ever warmed up to a stranger before.

He has the affected quiet confidence of someone who would rather be anywhere else but here. No one knows that mask better than Nesta.

Against all odds, she’s the first to initiate a conversation.

“Why are you here?” she says bluntly.

No hello, no how are you. Fuck, this is why she doesn’t talk to people.

Lucien looks surprised at the sudden acknowledgment, but answers, “My plans got cancelled at the last minute.” His mouth tightens as he looks toward his brother. “So Eris dragged me here instead.”

“You don’t like your brother?”

Lucien narrows his eyes at her, defensive. “Is this an interrogation or something?”

Embarrassment heats Nesta’s face, but she hides it under her usual cold stare. “Never mind.”

She turns back to her food, refocusing on an anecdote Isaac is giving about a girl he met the other week. A moment later, Lucien says lowly, “I can’t stand my brother.”

She laughs a little too loudly at that, and everyone looks at her.

Isaac grins. “See, Nesta thinks it’s a funny story.”

Nesta frowns. “No, I don’t. You told it last week and no one laughed.”

His face falls. Eris laughs out loud at him, and Emerie tosses wadded up napkins at both men. “You’re both deeply uninteresting. Let’s talk about me.”

She launches into a heated discussion about how she plans to defeat “that bitch Brian” for the internship at Velaris’s biggest law firm next summer, with Eris interjecting that she wouldn’t survive a day in the big city. Nesta turns back to Lucien. “I understand how you feel.”

“You hate Eris too?”

“No, but I have sisters.” Eris is nice, if a pretentious asshole at times, but she empathizes with Lucien either way.

He raises a brow. “And you’re here for Thanksgiving instead of with them?”

For the first time all night, Nesta remembers that Cassian is having fun in a spacious penthouse with Feyre and Elain and the others, likely eating much nicer food than store-bought turkey and Jello shots, and she almost deflates. Almost. Because as much as she enjoys this— spending time with people that belong to her, not Feyre or anybody else— there’s a hollow space in the room that Cassian usually fills. She doesn’t know how she can miss someone and be this thoroughly content at the same time, but she tries not to ponder on her feelings.

She shrugs at Lucien’s question. “We’re all here instead of with our families.”

What would have been a thirty-minute meal on Nesta’s own stretches into a long night of full bellies and fuller conversation. Justinian demands a toast in honor of Friendsgiving, and Emerie tells him not to pull that cringy shit, but everyone ends up raising their small Jello shots to clink against each other.

Thanksgiving might be Nesta’s favorite holiday.

***

Cassian doesn’t know what this feeling is: the itching, nervy sense of impatience that plagues him the longer dinner drags on. All he knows is that tonight Mor’s laughter is just a little too loud, and Amren’s quips are just a little too sharp, and Rhys’s stories aren’t very interesting for once.

Nothing about his friends have changed, but somehow, Cassian feels different. Empty. He can’t stop thinking about what Nesta is doing right now.

He checks his phone under the table for the sixth time in three minutes, for what, he doesn’t know. Maybe she’s in trouble and needs his help. Maybe she’s having a bad night and wants to talk to him. Maybe she’s just bored and thinking about him.

None of this is true, evidently, because his phone remains dead silent.

“Cassian.” It’s Elain’s gentle voice that draws him out of his head. “What’s it like having a roommate for once? I know you and Nesta love being alone.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Alone? No we don’t. Why would we love being alone together?”

Elain looks at him like he’s grown a new head. “I didn’t mean alone together. It’s just that you’ve always spent your time boarded up in that mountain cabin on your own, and before Nesta moved in, she wouldn’t leave her apartment even to see me.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Feyre butts in. She whirls to Cassian with her hands under her chin. “All this time I was wondering what you and Nesta living together would be like, and I didn’t even consider you guys avoiding each other.”

Cassian scoffs a laugh but doesn’t know how to respond. He just wants Feyre and Elain to stop poking at this raw, fresh thing in his life before his nerves get worse, so he turns to Amren and brings up the thing he knows will shut everyone down: work. “How much longer is Rhys gonna have you playing double agent at Adriatic?” She’s been acting as brand ambassador to the West Coast-based conglomerate for the past five months, playing nice while gathering information on Night Court Inc.’s biggest competitor.

Groans resound around the table, but Amren’s eyes brighten frightfully. “If he keeps me there any longer, I might end up staying for good.”

Rhysand smiles thinly. “Amren has a crush on their new CFO. If she keeps going on about Varian’s pretty face I might pull her out of Adriatic by the end of the year.”

Just as Cassian is about to convince himself to care, his phone vibrates in his hand. Everything tunes out as he sees Nesta’s name on the screen, attached to a new text. He clicks into it.

A picture of Nesta and her friends around a dinner table pops up, smiling and laughing. His heart catches in his throat at the image.

“What did we say about phones during dinner, Cassian?” Rhysand interrupts just then.

Cassian stands up quickly, stammering, “Uh, I just need to answer this call— it’s important.” Azriel is staring up at him like he’s lost his mind, but Cassian doesn’t notice or care as he rushes out of the room with his phone in a death grip, overcome.

Alone in a hallway bathroom, he lets himself look at the picture again, hungrily absorbing every detail he couldn’t catch the first time around: her face is flushed and her hair is down, wilder than usual. Her smile is so rarely genuine that it kills him a little just to see it; he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or pained that she’s having such a good time, that she isn’t missing him like he’s missing her. A sharp-faced girl that Cassian assumes is Emerie is holding the camera, likely having stolen Nesta’s phone to demand a picture, and the two women are surrounded by guys he doesn’t recognize. Except—

The face beside Nesta’s catches Cassian’s attention, and he clicks to zoom in. “Is that Lucien Vanserra?” he mutters.

Elain’s ex gets to hang out with Nesta while he doesn’t? This is fucked.

He doesn’t have a reason for his actions as he shoves his phone into his pocket and exits the bathroom. He just knows he needs to get out of here, away from this place that’s so far from Nesta’s heart.

His keys and coat hang near the front door, and he can hear Feyre’s voice from the dining room. “Cassian? Where are you—”

The door slams behind him before she can finish.

***

Being the only one who refused to get drunk off Jello shots, Eris offers to drive Nesta home for the night.

While Lucien is passed out in the backseat without a care in the world, Nesta is so awake she can feel her nerves buzzing. She knows as soon as she leaves this car, the bittersweet loneliness that comes after a party will set in, but for now…

What a night. She sighs and lets her head fall back against the seat, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Damn,” Eris lets out a low whistle as he pulls up to the mountain cabin. “This is your place?”

She lifts her head, realizing she’s home. “Ah. It’s only a temporary living situation,” she explains. “It’s my— friend’s place.”

“Friend or sugar daddy?” Eris smirks.

Nesta scowls, grabbing her stuff and pushing open the door to leave. It’s not Eris’s fault she’s unable to take a joke about Cassian, but that doesn’t change the sensitivity of the topic.

“Hey, wait—” he calls after her.

She pauses to look back at him. He hesitates, then says, “Good night.”

“Take care of your brother,” she directs. Stepping out of his fancy car, she shuts the door and raises a hand in goodbye, watching him pull away from the cabin.

Alone in the driveway, Nesta stands under the moonlight for a long moment, letting the chill seep into her bones. She’s dawdling.

She pauses again at the front door, her hand on the doorknob. The dreaded loneliness is already coming over her, crawling over her skin and making a home in the cage of her ribs.

A whole weekend without Cassian.

Maybe she should have asked Emerie if she could stay over for the night, but a part of her knows it would have been futile. Emerie can’t replace Cassian’s constant presence, no matter how much Nesta likes her.

It’s only three days. She steels herself and unlocks the door, prepared to be greeted by darkness and hollow silence.

The first thing she notices when she steps inside is the sound of crackling, followed by a warm glow from the living area. The lights are all off, but the fireplace is ablaze.

Nesta’s brows furrow, confused, but then she sees on the couch— “Cassian?”

***

a/n: i know justinian and isaac are names for side characters that sjm has used before but in this case they're completely different ocs.

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja

[moku-youbi]

Alright Untamed fandom, where do I submit and/or beg for my fic ideas? 

I DESPERATELY need a Leverage AU for this fandom (and for Word of Honor, too, but that’s going to be a separate post), you GUYS!?! Tell me you can’t see this:

Lan Zhan in the role of Nate--maybe as a detective of some fashion instead of insurance investigation. Or maybe he works as head of security for his very wealthy family. And for a while he’s so sure that he’s doing the Right and Honorable and Just thing, hunting down these criminals. And he’s got some serious angst over his friend Wei Ying who was head of security for the Jiang until he stole some huge corporate secret and sold it to their competitors before disappearing into the criminal underworld. And Lan Zhan’s seen him over the next few years, only very briefly, when their paths cross from opposite sides of a heist and Wei Ying says he’s been framed, but no matter how often Lan Zhan tries to convince him to come home and set things right and face punishment. Because even if he hadn’t done the original crime, he’s clearly doing crime (and being gay, but that is neither here nor there) and he has to take responsibility and Wei Ying’s like no thanks, bro. So then Lan Zhan finds out something that sort of shakes him to the core, like maybe some sketchy things his own family have done, or that they were in on framing Wei Ying along with the Jin, whatever, not sure on the details. But he quits and starts having guilt over the fact that he just assumed the worst about Wei Ying, and also, all these awful things that Wei Ying has done since? Are him trying to clean up messes made by the Wen and Jin and Lan.

After some soul searching, Lan Zhan starts digging into all the shit that these major corporations have been up to, and starts identifying the people who’ve been hurt by them and have been fighting back on their own, and decides to bring them all together. There’s:

* Meng Yao (fucked over by his father and out for revenge on the whole wide world, and who would be the perfect confidence man, lbr and very brainy, yes, but no where on the level of...) * Nie Huaisang (hacker extraordinaire, able to get any information on anyone or anything in basically 10 seconds or less, and able to use that to manipulate every scenario perfectly to his whims--he doesn’t NEED to steal, you’ll give him exactly what he wants without you even realising it...look, he doesn’t need to be doing this, but he is pissed over what happened with Wei Ying and the Wen are constantly flexing on his brother, and also, it’s fun!) * Wen Ning (who to everyone’s astonishment is the best hitter in the game, started helping Wei Ying shortly after his fall from grace, has issues galore with basically every sect, but he’s really only in this for his family and Wei Ying) * Wen Qing (who comes part and parcel with WN and WY because these assholes always end up needing to be patched up, and also, need a voice of sanity and reason) * Xue Yang (who just likes shiny things and fucking shit up and bewilders everyone over the fact that he can steal, like, anything and has warehouses full of treasure, but just squats in a ramshackle abandoned building and spends all his money on candy and baked goods) * A-Qing (who is Xue Yang’s thief and con-woman in training, and who will mercilessly use her youth and anonymity with the main companies to bleed them fucking dry)

And Lan Zhan can’t get ahold of Wei Ying at first, but after the team’s first job, oh you better fucking believe Wei Ying is interested now! (okay, he was interested as soon as Lan Zhan spoke to the Wen siblings, but he was waiting to see how things fell out and if this was some sort of trap that he’d need to spring them from). They’re in the middle of some elaborate heist and it’s all about to fall apart, and Lan Zhan is as close to freaking out as someone like Lan Zhan can be, and Wei Ying just strolls in and saves the day with his devastating smile.

So the gang saves the day and makes the bad guys pay, and then they decide you know, there are a lot more assholes out there pulling things like this, and we’re really good at screwing them over. 

I just want all the found-family feels, and the reconciliation, and the romance. How Yanli finds ways to send care packages to Wei Ying through Huaisang and trying to let him know she believes in him no matter what. And someday after the initial confrontation with the Jin/Wen/Lan, just stopping by the team’s headquarters on the regular to feed them when they’re so busy planning they forget to take care of themselves. The eventual confrontation of Wei Ying and Lan Zhan with their respective brothers and adoptive parents/uncle. Meng Yao getting the love and recognition he deserves after his father is arrested. The crew picking up new members here and there, like XXC and SL who are some sort of law enforcement, and...not so sure about this at first, but eventually end up looking the other way (and maybe adopting A-Qing and inexplicably becoming enamored of Xue Yang). Wei Ying and Lan Zhan rescuing A-Yuan at some point when taking on the Wen, and him being raised by his two dads and the craziest and most loving group of Aunties and Uncles.

Some of them go more ~legit after things fall out. Like Meng Yao is way more appropriate to run the Jin than his brother, and they both know it. And Huaisang has to keep an air of respectability about himself, and Wen Qing is a legit doctor, okay...but they still help out on the regular.

Look, I would write this myself, I WOULD. Except 1.) I know no where NEAR enough about Chinese culture to do it justice, and 2.) ever since I started my ADHD meds I’ve been...incapable of writing? (which goes hand in hand with 2 actually, because researching feels daunting). So *hands* someone make it a thing??

[the-other-art-blog]

My thoughts on Little Men Part 1: Jo and Frizt

I started this book with a bit of discouragement because I knew Amy wasn’t going to be in it. May had asked her sister not to write about her because of all the mail that distracted her. I’m sure she had her fans, but also there must have been tons of stupid people blaming her splitting Jo and Laurie. So, I was sad about it. However, I was pleasantly surprised by this sequel. I loved it!

I won’t go chapter by chapter, but by theme/characters this time.

The Bhaers

The image of Jo walking while reading, with little Ted following her is so sweet. And Fritz is also very affectionate to his kids. And I love how Jo treats Franz and Emil as her own.

Also, I’m developing this in another post, but I just have to say that I like Jo this time much more. She’s grown!

And it’s great that she had sons. Poor Demi, without Ted, Rob, Franz and Emil, he would have been the only boy. So I guess that is a big thanks to Friedrich.

She also knows that liberty is not doing whatever you want not minding others. Liberty is an act of responsibility and Dan needs to learn that. I love how she identifies herself to Dan and Nan and decides to help them.

She’s really in her element here. Her dream is actually coming true. She has a school full of boys, which she always felt more comfortable with. She has a chance to educate them as best as she can. Plus, she built a beautiful family with Friedrich.

The marriage is a very happy one and I just love this quote for when Jo wanted to bring Nan to the school:

Now, if you make fun of my plan I'll give you bad coffee for a week, and then where are you, sir?" cried Mrs. Jo, tweaking him by the ear just as if he was one of the boys.

He was very sweet in getting the girls kites to make up for Daisy’s ball.

Also, I think it was great that even though Ted and Rob are their kids, they are treated with the equal firmness. And that makes them great parents. When Rob didn’t pick up the nuts in time, Fritz didn’t let him skip school. Ted is still very little, but Rob was made accountable for his laziness.

Little Ted killed with his cuteness so many times:

My Danny's tummin' soon.

Clapping his hands at the end, he made another double salutation, and then ran to hide his head in his mother's lap, quite overcome by the success of his "piece," for the applause was tremendous.

Plumfield

That school is amazing! We already knew the Marches reproved corporal punishment when Amy gets whipped by her teacher. In fact, Jo tells a story about how one day she ran away and Marmee whipped her. Her mother felt absolutely ashamed and never did it again.

She never whipped me but once, and then she begged my pardon, or I don't think I ever should have forgiven her, it hurt my feelings so much.

Why did she beg your pardon?–my father don't.

Because, when she had done it, I turned round and said, 'Well, you are mad yourself, and ought to be whipped as much as me.' She looked at me a minute, then her anger all died out, and she said, as if ashamed, 'You are right, Jo, I am angry; and why should I punish you for being in a passion when I set you such a bad example? Forgive me, dear, and let us try to help one another in a better way.'

Knowing this, it is understandable why she preferred to talk to Amy rather than doing something more drastic when she burned the book. She made Amy understand her wrong and tried to make peace between the sisters:

My dear, don’t let the sun go down upon your anger. Forgive each other, help each other, and begin again tomorrow.’

But back to this book, Plumfield is quite unique. The boys are there to learn about philosophy, math, science, literature, etc. All the things a regular school would teach. But Jo and Fritz go beyond that. The kids live there, so they are also responsible of teaching them about life. They have a garden, pets (one of which is called Christopher Columbus!!!!) and thanks to Laurie, a museum. Plus they can go into business! Which teaches them responsibility for their own money rightfully earned.

They’re firm but fair.

I absolutely love the idea of a weekly pillow-fight. The Bhaers invest a lot of time making sure moral lessons stick as much as the intellectual ones. And they have learned that kids should be kids and therefore they can’t just order them around. Part of educating a child is also letting them learn the limits and make decisions for themselves. 

The school must have a good reputation in town. Although the school accepts poor kids, they also have wealthy ones. Laurie and Amy already plan in sending Bess there too. I wonder if it transcended to other parts of Massachusetts, maybe Boston??? Nan’s father certainly liked it enough to sent her there, even though it only had a girl in it. The nineteenth century was opening to the idea of mixed schools, but it still something new and not everyone liked it. In 1862, Amy’s school was exclusive for girls. Boys need to learn to be kind to girls. And they all help each other be better people. More on the girls in another post.

They let each child develop its personality and help them transform their hobbies into things that can be useful for everyone.

[the-mighty-jellybean]

Fallen From Grace

A/N: Hi this is my first time writing anything like a/b/o dynamic stuff, so be kind, I’ve been reading a lot lately and I’m quite liking it. I’m hoping to make this a series, just gonna test the waters and see how this goes.

Series Summary: Before the incident she was one of the most powerful Alphas on the Avengers team; admired, idolised and possibly feared, nothing could stand in her way. However, after a mission goes terribly wrong, and she is brutally attacked, the injuries she sustains take all of her Alpha strength, reducing her status to a weakened Omega.  By the way of nature, the team can’t help but treat her in a completely new way. Especially her two closets friends, who now see her in a whole new light.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Warning: a/b/o dynamics (and the fun stuff that comes with that!), strong language, sexual content (smut is coming much later, and there will be added warnings on those chapters), fluff, angst, manipulation, corporal punishment (18+ only readers)

Part One// Part Two// Part Three// Part Four// Part Five// Part Six//Part Seven// Part Eight// Part Nine// Part Ten// Part Eleven// Part Twelve// Part Thirteen// Part Fourteen// Part Fifteen//

Part Sixteen: Mission Complete

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language 

Word Count: 3.5K

“Why do you have to go?” you had your arms and legs wrapped around one of Steve’s legs, as he and Bucky packed. They had just been called out on a mission, and you were not happy about it.

“It’s only gonna be a few days, sweetheart.” Bucky sighed as he tried to pull you from Steve’s leg. 

“But I don't want you to go, I want you to stay here with me.” you whined, squeezing even tighter on Steve’s legs.

“Come on, baby. Be a good girl for us. Don’t make us punish you, just before we leave.” Steve warned you, pulling you up by your armpits, and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“I want you to stay.” you pout, looking deep into his blue eyes, you can tell he doesn't want to leave either, but he has no choice. 

“We’ll be home soon, pretty girl. Then we can get back to our real mission.” Bucky smirked at you, as he watched your cheeks grow hot.

You had been having sex 24/7, both super soldiers desperate to get you pregnant with their pups. You had come round to the idea of being a mother, when you saw how much your Alphas wanted to have pups, it made you adore them even more, the only thing you wanted to do was please them, and if that meant having their pups, then that was what you were going to do. 

~~~~~

“How long has it been?” you groaned, your feet hanging in the air, as you sat upside down, on the large couch in the screening room. 

“Two days, four hours, 23 minutes and...27 seconds.” Wanda said checking her watch, as she mirrored your position on the couch next to you. 

“I want my Alphas.” your bottom lip jutting out. 

“Me too. Well I don't want your Alphas, I want mine.” she corrects herself. 

“Why do they have to go away for so long. All I want to do is...is someone cooking onions?” you pause, propping yourself up on your elbows, looking towards the door, your nose following the scent. 

“I can’t smell anything.” Wanda looks at you confused.

“No, someone is definitely cooking something oniony.” you say, swinging yourself so you’re now sitting the right way up. 

“How can you tell, we’re three floors below the kitchen?” Wanda matching your upright position. 

“Can’t you smell that it. My God, it’s making the whole place wreak.” you cover your nose and mouth with your sleeve, making a make shift mask. 

“FRIDAY, is there anyone in the kitchen?” Wanda asks 

“Yes, Colonel Rhodes, and Mr Parker.” FRIDAY responded, promptly. 

“Call in to the kitchen.” 

“Dialling in now.” 

There was brief sound of dialling, before you could hear the sound of Rhodey and Peter talking to one another. 

“Hey, what’s up.” you hear Peter’s cheery voice, ring through the speakers of the Screening Room. 

“Hey you guys cooking something?” Wanda asked.  

“No, we’re just staring at the food, hoping it’s gonna cook itself.” Rhodey sarcastic tone, fills your ears. 

“Very funny.” you shout through your sleeve, “has it got a shit ton of onions in it?” 

There was a brief silence, and the distant sound of banging of pots, and cupboard doors closing. 

“Not a lot, literally like half a bulb.” Rhosdey reasoned. 

“Well, you’re stinking the whole compound out.” You shouted, the smell of the onions only getting worse, making you gag. 

“Dude where are you?” you hear Peter ask. 

“Miss Y/L/N, and Miss Maximoff, are in the Screening Room.” FRIDAY answered on your behalf. 

“Bro, that’s like fifty levels away.” you hear Peter over-exaggerate. 

“Yeah well, open a window, I can smell it. FRIDAY, end the call.” There was a sound of a phone being put down. You huff trying to block your nose as best you could. 

“Come on let’s go for a walk, it’s nice out.” 

You nod, the thought of the fresh air, and being far away from that smell, suited you perfectly. 

~~~~~~

“Can we sit down a second.” you gasp, a little breathless, as you crash onto a fallen tree. You had only been walking less than an hour, and your legs were already beginning to ache. 

“Um...sure.” Wanda said helping you sit on top of the dead wood, “We’ve only been working a few minutes. Are you feeling okay?” 

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’m just so exhausted all the time. I thought I’d been getting more sleep, what with Bucky and Steve gone. But I’m still so tired.”

“First off; ew, don’t need to know that much about your sex life. Secondly, do you think you’ve still got an infection from your bites?” She tries to look at your neck, to see if there was any swelling or redness, but it all appeared to be fine. 

“No, Steve and Bucky took me to see Dr Cho, before they left. She said I was all clear, and my marks were healing normally now.” You say whilst rubbing Steve’s mark on your neck. 

“Then what do you think’s causing this?” Wanda looked at you with her eyes full of concern. 

“I don't know, maybe I’ve just got a viral thing. Whatever it is it’ll pass in a few days.” 

~~~~~~

A few days passed, and you were only beginning to feel worst. And things weren’t helped, when at 5:30 in the morning you woke, stumbling out of bed, as you hurried yourself to the bathroom, where you proceeded to expel the contents of your stomach, into the toilet. 

You groaned when you finally finished heaving into the porcelain bowl, your knees were numb, from where you had been kneeling on the cold, tiled floor. You roll onto your bottom, and prop yourself up against the bath, leaning your head back, giving a silent prayer, to ease your aching stomach. 

“Miss Y/L/N, do you want me to call Dr Cho?” you heard FRIDAY, whisper. 

“No thank you, FRIDAY. I’ll be okay.” you croaked, you didn’t want anybody to see you like this. You just wanted to go back to bed and curl up into a ball.

You wiped your tear stained cheeks, before heaving yourself up from the bathroom floor. You look at your pale reflection in the mirror, you prod round your face, looking for any signs of obvious ailment, but your face looked nothing out of the ordinary. 

You let a heavy sigh fall from your lips, as you take your tooth brush out of the holder. You reach for the toothpaste tube, but let a huff of annoyance leave your mouth, when you discovered that the tube was empty. 

“Great.” you puff, slinging the empty tube into the trash, before bending down to look in the cupboard for a new one. Your eyes grazed over the assortment of bathroom supplies; shampoos, conditioners, your eyes catching on the shaving cream, as it made you think of your Alphas, who were so far away. You swallow back the tears, as you are surprised by your sudden wave of emotion. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” you told yourself, becoming flustered with yourself at the idea of getting emotional over shaving cream. You quickly move your stinging eyes away from the bathroom essential, but your heart drops a little when they move onto two other objects. 

Your eyes freeze when the land upon your supply of tampons and pads, untouched. 

Oh shit. Realisation slowly hitting you, as you pick a packet up, and hold it between your fingers, deep in thought. 

Your mind was desperately searching for a date, but it was proving a challenge.

*

“What’s the matter, baby. Is your tummy hurting?” Steve asked as you curled in on yourself, letting a small whimper escape your lips. 

“It hurts, Alpha.” You cry, trying desperately to grab for him, needing nothing more than your Alphas near you. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Do you want me to rub your tummy or do you want a hot water bottle?” Bucky asked you, crouching to your level, on the couch.  

“Just want you.” you whimper, holding your arms out to them. 

Bucky carefully lifted you up, placing you over his lap, cradling you. He placed his warm hand on your stomach, and gently rubbed over it; the movement and the heat soothing on the cramping below it. 

Steve disappeared into the kitchen, only to return shortly, with a cup of water, and two tablets in his hand. 

“Here, sweetie. Can you sit up a little for Alpha?” he asked you softly. You whined a little when Bucky shuffled you upwards, so that your mouth could meet with Steve’s fingers, as he placed one of the white discs on your tongue. Then gently bringing the cup up to your face, allowing you to drink the tablet down. Before repeating the action for the second pill. 

“Good girl. That’ll make you feel better, honey.” Steve said, before placing the glass down on the table, and joining you and Bucky on the couch. He placed his hand on your ankle, and smoothed his thumb over the skin, relaxing you. 

“Just think, when you’re carrying our pups, you want have to deal with this for nine, whole months.” Bucky reassured, bumping your noses together. 

Although you were still hesitant at the idea. The thought of not dealing with this, for nine, long months; sounded like a dream.

*

“Oh shit.” you repeat only this time out loud. That dream looked as though it was going to become a harsh reality. 

No. No that can’t be the last time. The memory surfacing from four weeks ago. Which meant you were supposed to be due on. 

You threw the packet back into the cupboard, grabbing the new toothpaste tube. You slammed the doors, most likely waking the whole compound, quickly brushing your teeth. Rinsing your mouth out, you abandoned your toothbrush on the side, before striding out of the bathroom, and looking in the floor length mirror in your bedroom. 

You lifted up your shirt to reveal, your normal stomach, no new lumps and bumps, it looked exactly how you left it. 

You place your hands, across your lower abdomen, beginning to poke and jab, feeling around your belly, for any signs of change, but there was no different. 

“I can’t be. Not yet.” you defy. Pulling your t-shirt down, you roll back into bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“There’s no way, I am pregnant.” you say out loud, to nobody but yourself, as you were the only one there you had to convince. 

~~~~

“You need to take a test.” That was the only piece of advice Wanda gave you, when you went to find her to seek consolidation.  

“No I don't, because it can’t be right.” you disregard, your eyes not meeting hers, as you played with the draw strings on Steve’s hoodie, which you had stolen. You needed your Alphas’ scents more than ever now.  

“You’ll never know, unless you take a test.” She presses once more.  

“No.” you respond flatly 

“Y/N, you can’t just bury your head in the sand. This is serious.” She tried to reason with you, but you didn’t respond, only twisting the strings round your fingers. 

“If you don't take a test, I’m calling Steve and Bucky.” you head snapped up at the sound of your Alphas’ names. 

“You can’t do that.” you accuse, dropping the strings, and glaring at her. 

“Wanna bet?” she threatens, arching her eyebrow. 

“You can’t tell them, they’ll fly home. And as much as I want that, they need to finish their mission, you know what they’re like, if they don’t complete their mission.” you remind Wanda, she sighs knowing what you’re saying is true.

“Y/N, you’re leaving me with no choice.” Wanda sighs. 

“But I can’t be pregnant.”

“Okay, so say by some miracle you aren't pregnant. How do you explain; throwing up every morning, feeling nauseous whenever anyone cooks anything, and you can’t walk longer than 10 minutes, without needing to take a break? Huh, how do you explain that.” Wanda lists. 

“I don't know.” you mumble.

“What was that?” She cups her ear, pretending to have misheard.

���I. Don’t. Know.” you repeat slowly, with a large amount of sarcasm, accenting your words. 

“That settles it then. I’m gonna get you a test.” Before you have a chance to object, Wanda has sprung off the couch, and left you to wallow in your own worry. 

~~~~

“So, what am I meant to do?” you say looking at the packaging like it is written in some sort of foreign dialect. 

“You just pee on this end, then it says we wait three minutes for us to tell us the result.” Wanda says, taking the box from you, and actually reading the instructions. 

She hands you the stick, and arch an eyebrow at the peculiar, space age. looking stick, that you twiddle around your fingers. 

She leaves you in the bathroom, promising you she’ll be just outside the door. 

You take a big deep breath, before you go and take a seat on the toilet, and begin to take the test. 

Once you’re finished, you place the lid on the test, and wash your hands, before telling Wanda she can come back in. She starts a timer, and you both sit, waiting anxiously for the answer. Wanda’s sat in the bathtub, whilst you sit on the toilet seat with your head in your hands. 

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. Just think how happy Steve and Bucky are gonna be.” Wanda tried to convince you. That’s all you were thinking about, because that was the only thing stopping you from spontaneously combusting, with anxiety.

“I know. They’ve both wanted this for so long. But what if I’m not a good mom?” you say through your fingers, as this was turning into the longest three minutes of your entire existence. 

“Y/N, you’re gonna be an amazing mommy.” Wanda, stands up from her sitting place in the tub, and crouches down laying her hands over, the ones pressed tightly against your face.

“But what if the baby comes out, and it looks like Steve or Bucky, and they feel left out, or don't love the baby as much, because they’ll have that constant doubt that they aren't the father?” you ramble, curse your damn hormones, your eyes stinging with tears.

“You know that Steve and Bucky would never do that, Y/N. They love you too much. They’ll just be over the moon, that you’ve given them a pup.”  

The timer on Wanda’s phone begins to chime, and your heart start to pound, a mile a dozen. Wanda takes you hands, and make you take a deep breath together, before she reaches the stick, she holds it out to you, you take it from her but close your eyes, squeezing them tightly. 

“It’s gonna be alright, Y/N.” 

Those are the final words, Wanda says to you before you open your eyes, gazing down at the small, white stick in your hands. They begin to shake, as you read over the word, written on the small screen. 

Pregnant

“What does it say?” Wanda’s voice breaks through the ringing in your ears, and you can do nothing, but pass her the test. She takes it from you, and she drops her gaze from your eyes, to the tiny window. 

“It says I’m pregnant.” you say, when she doesn't say anything. 

“Oh my God, Y/N. Congratulations.” she shrieks throwing her arms around you. You just let her hang off you, as your whole body goes numb. 

Pregnant.

You were actually carrying a small bit of you and Steve or Bucky, inside of you. Your Omegaself, warms from the thought. You had done it, you had actually achieved your purpose as an Omega. You were finally complete on your Omega journey.

~~~~~~

You had butterflies in your stomach, Bucky and Steve were coming home today, and you were gonna finally get to tell them, what you had been up to. 

You had done a second test, and bought two, small boxes to put them in, decorating them both with a bow. You placed them on the bed before heading outside. 

You stood on the landing strip, along with Wanda, and Peter, all three of you were bouncing on the heels of your feet, your Alphas only a few moments away. 

The jet coming into sight, made your heart skip a beat, the thought of telling your Alphas that you were going to give them everything, they had ever wished for. 

Finally the wheels touched down, and like Wanda and Peter, you took off running towards the opening doors. Wanda was the first to be swept off her feet, as Vision came soaring out of the sky, and landing on the tarmac, before embracing Wanda the moment her little legs, carried her to him. 

Then Peter shot a web, pulling himself closer to the jet, pushing past, Sam and Clint, to reach his beloved Alpha. Then finally you saw them, the sight of which made your pace pick up, before you were launching yourself into Bucky’s arms. He caught you easily and brought into his chest, as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“Hi, baby girl. You miss us?” He says, sprinkling your face with little kisses. You can't hold your emotions together, as you burst into tears, pushing your head into the crook of his neck, whilst letting a very watery ‘yes’ escape your trembling lips. 

“Oh baby, we’re home now. Don't cry, sweetheart.” You felt Steve’s arms wrap around the both of you, you hum in content, the feeling of both your Alphas’ strong arms, holding you close. 

“I’m sorry, Alpha. I just missed you so much.” you blubbered, Bucky pushing your head further into his neck, so you could be closer to his scent gland, hoping to help sooth you. 

“It’s alright, darlin. We’re home now. We’re not gonna leave you that long again.” Steve whispers into your ear, running his hand up and down your back. 

“Come on, let’s get you in side. It’s cold out here, I can feel it on your nose.” Bucky chuckles, as you all began to make your way inside. 

Steve practically kicks the door down, as he and Bucky hurry you into your room, Bucky already kissing your neck, covering you in his scent. 

“Oh honey, we’ve missed you so much. But we’re back now, time to get back to the real mission at hand.” he speaks, in-between kisses. In all the passion, you got caught up in, you forgot about the two small boxes, laying on the bed, until Bucky through you onto it, making them bounce into the air. 

“Wait.” you try to pause Bucky and Steve in their movements, but they’re desperately trying to remove their belts, as fast as possible. 

“We’ve been waiting nearly a week, baby. I need to put this knot to good use.” Steve growls, but you manage to push him off of you, and grab the rectangular boxes and hold it out to them. 

“Presents later, sweetheart. You’re all that we want right now.” Bucky, grabs the boxes from you hands, and places them on the bedside table. 

“But you’ve already put your knots to good use.” they halt in their actions, and stand over you looking at you with great confusion. You get up from the bed, and grab the boxes, the two Alphas sit at the edge of the bed. 

“These are for you.” you say handing them to the two men, who still looked utterly bewildered. 

They take them from you, before undoing the bows, and popping the lids in sync. Bucky drops his head, hand covering his eyes, as his shoulders begin to shake. 

You begin to feel worried, when he lets a loud sob escape his lips. 

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked. 

“Far from it, my beautiful, little Omega.” he chokes through his cries, he grabs hold of you, pulling you as tightly as possible. Steve was yet to react, he just sat and stared at the little test in his hand. 

“I’m so proud of you, my baby girl.” Bucky kisses you all over your face, making you giggle. 

“Is this real, Y/N. Like really real?” Steve asks you in disbelief. 

“Of course, my Alpha. I would never joke about this.” you assured him, resting your hand on his cheek. 

“I love you, my Omega.” he says with a water grin, as his eyes begin to swell with tears. 

“I love you too, Alpha. Both my Alphas.” you kissed them both on the lips, Bucky pulling you backwards, you grab hold of Steve, pulling him with you. 

“You’re amazing, little one. Did you do this all by yourself?” Steve asked, twiddling the test in his hands. 

“Well you helped.” You giggle, causing both of them to chuckle. 

“No I mean finding out. Did you have to do it on your own?” his voice had a hint of sadness, the thought of you going through this all by yourself, made him feel guilty. 

“No, Alpha. Wanda was with me.” 

“You should have told us, sweetheart. We would have come home sooner.” Bucky said, pushing hair out of your face. 

“I thought it would be a nice surprise.” you smiled. You grabbed your Alphas’ hands, and pulled your shirt up, placing their warm palms on top of your stomach. 

They both rubbed gently, face splitting grins stretched across their cheeks. You laid their content in the arms of your Alphas. 

In the arms of your little family. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Sorry that I didn’t post this yesterday, but I was having a great day celebrating VE Day with my family. 

However, this unfortunately concludes: Fallen From Grace. I’ve absolutely loved writing this story, and I’ve been overwhelmed by the response from all of you. I have got some ideas for a sequel, and I’ll begin production on that very soon...so watch this space. 

xxx

TAGLIST: 

@mikariell95 @sexyvixen7 @booboobella01 @rororo06 @vickstaahh​ @krazykatkay456 @winchester-wifey @nightlygiggles​ @coonflix​

[theskyexists]

that knits up the raveled sleave of care Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Oneshot Rating: T Characters: Catra, Adora, Melog Relationship: Adora/Catra

Tags: Roughhousing, accidental she-ra transformations, just a BIT of angst - oh shit that was the whole bottle, but even more fluff, melog is there and projects catra’s feelings, and the feelings are ‘i love adora’, lots of banter, a little bit of kissing

Preview:

Her pulse wouldn't stop racing, and she couldn't quite catch her breath. She'd never felt like this when they'd played as kids - not quite. It made her think of late nights, whispering after lights out, shadows finally banished by the dark.

She smelled really good.

"Are you sniffing me?" Adora teased. The impulse to deny it came screaming from the depths of her brain. Then she grinned.

She lifted herself up to look into Adora's eyes.

"So?" she purred, their noses inches apart.

_____________________________________________________________

Adora had stamina - even as a kid, she could run any of the assigned drills three times over if she wanted to. She could chase Catra for longer. And that's why Catra was fast, and agile, and smart (Adora called it cheating). It was why she was always cataloguing weaknesses, or opportunities for a trap - every potential opening to go for the jugular. Incapacitate before she could be overtaken. They were taught to think like that, to constantly evaluate their chances - it was beaten into them.

(Adora took corporal punishment like it really was a way to cleanse her of her failures. Catra scratched her disciplinarians' eyes out. That is, until it got Shadow Weaver's attention.)

Adora knew to assess and plan for a fight - but she didn't have to - not like Catra.

Catra knew that a single strike could count for everything, so all she focused on was how to do the most damage.

And how to hide.

Her attempts had been juvenile at first, hiding behind supply crates and under blankets. Even Adora had managed to find her. Though Catra supposed that, back then, she had wanted to be found. She quickly learned that few could see as well in the dark as she could - or lodge their nails into sheer steel. Dark hallways were safe, and by the time she was 14 she had memorised every bot patrol in the Fright Zone. Better yet, she could scramble up walls to nooks and crannies that no one even knew existed. Being high up gave her a good advantage - neither bots nor people were programmed to look up.

Now.

The world was no longer made of steel - it was made mostly of green, billions of plants having sprung explosively from suddenly ripe earth - hundreds of years overdue. Magic tingled on her tongue every time she took a breath. It filled her with energy, made her muscles work better, made her leap farther, surer. As she ran and jumped, the woods whispered faster, faster, as if in pure joy at Catra's presence. Fireflies lit her way, and it was easy to find purchase in the trees, to hide between the leaves.

Not that she needed to, wrapped up in Melog.

It hadn't questioned her when she left Bright Moon, had simply felt her desire for secrecy and enveloped her in its magic.

It was soothing, and familiar, like a second layer of fur. She'd never thought that magic could feel like that.

The sky had brightened in the east when Catra reached the top of the overhang, climbing up from the outside along new growth and old handholds. Thousands of stars paled just slightly against the growing light. Newly awoken magical bird creatures had started to sing.

The Fright Zone had changed. As the sun crept over the once-desert, still-jagged mountains, the place became a riot of brightest colour. The reds and oranges and pinks of the sky reflected off whatever steel surfaces still poked from between leaves and flowers. Scorpia had decided to give most of the buildings up to the embrace of time and the inexorable crush of plant roots, but others she had refurbished, with help from Perfuma's insanely powerful magic - to house ex-Horde soldiers of both clone and Etherian variety. The living floral arrangements that marked these towers made them look like crystallised rainbow puke, in Catra's opinion. But she guessed it was Scorpia's kingdom now to do with what she wanted. The fire of industry burned softly in only a few places, less like factories pumping out an endless supply of war machines and more like hearths nestled in the depths of a forest. Entrapta must have started on the last parts for Carla - Darla's new 'sister'.

Melog lay down beside a shrub, letting out a soft mraow. Let's nap, it said.

Catra sat back against its side, one hand on its head for scritching. She breathed, as Perfuma had taught her to, trying to let thoughts and memories pass her by like clouds. It was stupid, but it also worked, sometimes.

Catra had only just joined Melog in that state between waking and dreaming, her fur warmed by the sunlight, her eyes half closed, when a grappling hook finally clanged over the balustrade.

It was like a second, glorious sunrise, Adora climbing up and over the railing. The sight of her against the riotous sky made her breath stall for just a second. She allowed herself the feeling - the skipped heartbeat, the pleasant burn in her chest that followed.

Worry sat in the depths of Adora's pale-blue eyes and Catra felt a stab of guilt. It messed up the delivery of her line.

"Hey, Catra," Adora said quietly into the silence, shifting with uncertainty and withheld emotion.

"Finally!" Catra managed at last, "I bet a snail could have got here faster!"

Adora bristled, affronted, and Catra felt relief.

"It's not like you made it easy! I had no idea what happened to you - and you didn't even leave a note!"

Catra blinked slowly at her, smirk on her face.

"Oh poor Adora," she singsonged, "can't follow a simple trail. How does it feel to have the worst nose in the world?"

Adora let out a sound of annoyance and rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth had quirked up.

"I got here, didn't I?"

She stepped closer, stopping right in front of Catra - still sprawled against Melog's side.

Catra tilted her head.

"Wasn't that hard, was it?" she said, a small waver slipping into her voice. A lick of anger flared at the blatant sign of weakness - but she let it die down. She was safe.

Adora crouched in front of her. Her face melted into that stupid expression that made Catra feel fluttery and agitated and good. Her tail lashed.

"No," Adora agreed.

(She had always known to find Catra here.)

Suddenly Catra wanted. And it was allowed. She was allowed. She grabbed Adora by the lapel of her jacket and pulled.

"Wah-" Adora fell forward onto Catra, catching herself against Melog, who gave a sleepy little mraow-grumble.

Catra's stomach flipped when she put her lips on Adora's. Adora's.

Sometimes it felt like this was the answer to everything, everything that had happened, every feeling she had ever felt for her. Adora. Strong and soft and awful and amazing and ridiculous and wonderful and smug and noble and dumb and annoying and kinda...really hot.

Her stomach flipped again when Adora carefully put a hand to the back of her head and firmly moved her lips against hers.

And Adora wanted her.

Just when Adora relaxed, let her warm weight settle, Melog stuck its nose in and started licking her face.

"UGHH Melog!" Catra complained as she tried to push it and its slimy blue tongue away.

"Awww," Adora laughed, petting its head. Annoyance flashed through Catra and she shoved so hard that Adora lost her balance the other way, landing on her back with a muffled 'oomph'. She jumped her, pinning her shoulders.

Pay attention to me, idiot.

She'd miscalculated. The moment she perched on her hips, Adora flashed a smirk and put an elbow into her face, grabbed her arm and used her freakishly brute strength to flip them into a roll. Catra let out an outraged squeak when Adora pinned her. She giggled, but Catra wasn't going to let her win just because she was cute - or because having her on top of her felt kinda nice. She lifted her hips to loosen Adora's stupidly firm grip on her wrists, then slipped from between her thighs, tipping them over again. She realised she was laughing herself - high and excited. Like they were having fun, like they were just playing.

And they were.

Catra couldn't really tell what the feeling was that burst in her chest - kind of painful, kind of not.

After a lot of growling, straining, hands in faces, trying not to fall off the platform, and reversing positions - they came to a stop, Catra on top, panting into each other's necks.

Catra subtly rubbed her cheek into Adora's shoulder, though Adora's soft snort suggested that maybe it wasn't so subtle. Whatever.

Her pulse wouldn't stop racing, and she couldn't quite catch her breath. She'd never felt like this when they'd played as kids - not quite. It made her think of late nights, whispering after lights out, shadows finally banished by the dark.

She smelled really good.

"Are you sniffing me?" Adora teased. The impulse to deny it came screaming from the depths of her brain. Then she grinned.

She lifted herself up to look into Adora's eyes.

"So?" she purred, their noses inches apart.

Something went slack in Adora's face, while the muscles in her abdomen tensed almost imperceptibly. Heh.

Adora slipped an arm past her shoulder to thread her fingers through Catra's scruff, palm warm against her scalp, the simple weight of her hand inviting her down. Catra closed her eyes and let their lips meet. Soft. So recently, that would have infuriated her, it would have made her spit with disdain, with pain, the overwhelming desire to hurt.

Now, she languished in the feeling of Adora underneath her, lean and solid - squishy and perfectly knead-able in all the right places. Healthy - alive. Catra shifted, and Adora's hips bucked.

Then Adora slipped her tongue into her mouth and she couldn't muffle a groan. She realised that she was purring - had been purring for a while. She couldn't help it.

A warmth started from all the places where they touched, pleasantly suffusing her muscles and bones, tingling up her spine - and a blaze of magic painted her eyelids golden white.

Pulling back, she was greeted with a flustered She-Ra. Oh - this was too good.

"Did you just -?" Catra sniggered.

"Shut up!" Adora said, blushing. It suited the electric blue of her eyes perfectly. Catra gently flicked her claws out into her giant super-powered biceps. They were both still bleeding kaleidoscopic light into the steel floor - making grass grow where it shouldn't be able to. Leftover magic returning to Etheria, like She-Ra was a magic sponge that hadn't been fully wrung dry yet.

"I just felt..." Adora mumbled, not looking at her, but incapable of keeping from smiling, "really happy..."

Something squeezed deep inside Catra's chest and she swallowed. She carefully grabbed the gold wing-mask-thing and tossed it to the side, bracketing Adora's face with her own hands, fingers buried in her magically shiny hair. She pressed quick, hard kisses to Adora's cheekbone, her temple, her forehead, her cheeks, her jaw, her throat - feeling kinda achy. Adora made a choked little noise. Hmm. She nibbled a little.

"I really don't mind it," she breathed into her ear, putting as much suggestion into her voice as she could.

Adora went red. Catra grinned. She would never get tired of that - being the cause of that - it felt like winning, but good.

She meant it too. She'd hated She-Ra once. Not anymore. Even Catra could admit that she was beautiful. She was a part of Adora.

The new form helped. She looked like Adora, like a massive, fantastically powerful version of her. Not the ridiculous golden hero princess who'd stolen her away.

Adora's arms came up to loop loosely around her, powerful hands tracing feather light patterns on her exposed shoulder blades. She couldn't help the shiver that worked its way down her spine - couldn't help melting into She-Ra's warm body and nuzzling her face in under her chin as Adora moved her fingers up to the base of her ears. Her arms were a comforting weight on her. Weird, to feel so safe in a grip that could crush her, that once might have done just that, a grip she had countless times clawed herself out of before it could.

It made her feel small, but....not bad.

She purred, suddenly sleepy.

"When did you get here? Did you sleep at all?" Adora murmured.

Catra stiffened, and Adora stopped moving. Catra felt  the apology humming on Adora's lips - and she exhaled slowly. For asking a simple question. She tried to make herself relax.

"I couldn't," she said, a hand travelling halfway up to the back of her neck before she could stop it. "I couldn't breathe," she said quietly.

The arms around her tightened just a bit.

The feeling of drowning - it just - wasn't a feeling that was easy to forget. When trying to sleep - with her defences lowered - the worst things managed to creep in like shadows and strike, again and again and again. Adora could only do so much, could only soothingly murmur into her ear for so long, could only stroke her back for so long, could only stay awake for so long. Sometimes she was sick of trying, sick of the bombardment - all the ways she'd been hurt and all the ways she had hurt others. Sometimes, if Adora was sleeping peacefully, she gave up and left the bed to roam the halls, map out the best places to hide, try to climb the spires without wrecking the stonework, memorise the night guards' patrols, count the unnecessary waterfalls, check again where the food was stored, guess at what absurd princess functions different rooms served.

This night, she had wandered into the council room.

Well, that's what it was called now that the war was over. She'd played with the map projection on the table a bit in the dim. Horde and Rebellion positions had been wiped - all that was left were trade routes and markers for rebuilding efforts. Then she'd messed something up and the room lit up. Hissing under her breath she'd ducked under the table - and spotted the wall, aglow. Then she'd stood there for what felt like hours.

"The mural," Catra spat out.

She instantly regretted it.

Adora hummed, waiting for her to go on. Catra gritted her teeth. Was she stupid? She knew what was on that stupid wall.

"The Queen - Glimmer's mom," she ground out - throat tight.

Adora inhaled sharply.

Spite lanced her heart. You asked for it!

Adora kept silent and perfectly still.

The familiar flames of fury rose and seared her, protective - destructive. They burned and burned and then burned out.

Adora did not speak or move.

Unbearable doubt and self-loathing rose up in place of her anger  - she had to - she had to get away  -

Adora grabbed her tightly as she tried, as she struggled in acute panic.

"Stay," Adora said, pressing their cheeks together. Catra whined in pain, quietly.

But she stayed.

Focusing on her breathing, on Adora's breathing, on the fact that they were alive.

"Sometimes I wake up and everything is so perfect," Adora said slowly. Catra blinked at the non sequitor, chin lodged in the hollow of Adora's shoulder.

"I - I mean! I mean that, the war is over, and you're right there, in bed, next to me. And...and we're not trying to - we're not fighting anymore. We're all friends. I - " Adora's voice cracked a little, "for the longest time, I wouldn't even let myself hope for a future like that."

Catra hadn't ever let herself consider it - decimating any thought that strayed close. Not until she'd already found herself in that future. Until it had saved her. Until it had saved Adora.

"And so...sometimes I think..." Adora stopped.

Catra waited, her claws burying into the steel beneath them, grass soft against her palms.

"What if it's not real?" Adora whispered, like it was a confession.

Catra frowned in surprise.

"What if everything starts slipping, disappearing - collapsing...?"

Understanding spread in her veins like poison. She wanted nothing more than to rip herself free now - but her muscles wouldn't listen, her limbs lead. She was a pathetic, paralysed sack of shame and guilt in Adora's arms. Adora's grip only tightened further. Her voice trembled.

"What if everybody disappears, one by one, and nobody even remembers them but me? Glimmer, and Bow, and...and you. And I can't fix it. I can't fix any of it even though I should have, it was my job, and - "

Catra was crying. She was sobbing, actually. Adora jostled them sitting up.

"Catra, Catra, Catra, I'm sorry," she said, which was the stupidest thing she'd ever said.

Catra tried to tell her that but she couldn't, all the air she managed to gulp into her spasming lungs came instantly rushing out in pathetic, ragged yowls. She hadn't cried like this since she was a kid, a baby, before she'd learned that blatant, loud weakness yielded punishment. It was absurd, it was humiliating. She couldn't stop.

Adora was trying to peel her face out of her shoulder but she wouldn't let her. There was just - no way -

So instead Adora crushed them closer together, a hand on the back of her head, a litany of sorry's landing in her hair - a clear note of panic in her voice and Catra wanted her to stop - stop saying that. It was like there was a giant ball of pain in her chest that just wouldn't quit throbbing.

It kept her crying for ages. Crying until she was simply too exhausted to, weak hiccups stuttering in her chest - until her throat was raw and snot and tears had soiled near half of Adora's jacket. She hadn't even noticed the de-transformation, hadn't  noticed how they'd crumpled back to the floor. She realised with a shock that Adora was crying too, more calmly, deep trembling sobs, petering off into frayed breaths. That almost started her up again, but she was too tired.

They simply lay together for a while, a long while, breathing growing more and more in sync.

"What the fuck was that?" she croaked, eventually.

Adora's chest jolted with a single soundless laugh.

The corners of Catra's mouth quirked up in automatic response.

She switched to Adora's dry shoulder, burying her disgusting face into the last patch of clean jacket. Another inadvertent purr started and stopped and started in her chest. The ball of pain had become a deeply rooted ache.

Adora sighed very very deeply.

"But it's real," she whispered. Then she hugged Catra really tightly.

"Duh," Catra mumbled, "dummy."

She was falling asleep. She wiggled until Adora let go and rolled off and onto her side, pulling at Adora until she rolled with her, turning her back into her chest and grabbing her arm, wrapping it around herself and clutching it tight. The grass made the steel feel about as comfortable as a Horde bunk. Melog appeared and circled them, shrinking and lying down so Adora could use it as a pillow. Adora moved around a bit before satisfied with how they slotted together. She pressed a long kiss above Catra's ear. It was Catra's turn to sigh very very deeply.

"I love you," Adora said.

That never ever failed to summon a sense of wonder - a thrill of near-disbelief and obvious incontestability that filled Catra up to the brim with a warmth that burned.

"I love you too," she said.

She closed her eyes.

And fell instantly into a deep sleep.

[funnytiepnsy]

Story time. Bc I am pissed still

Back when I lived with my grandmother and she had to have brain surgery, she decided it’d be a good idea to leave me, a 14 year old kid with adhd, alone with my 9 y.o. brother for a week. Not only is that ILLEGAL, but it is unrealistic as hell for her to have expected me to be able to balance cleaning, cooking, laundry, taking care of myself and my brother, schoolwork, etc. by myself as a kid.

Of course when she got home our house was in disarray because I made my priorities cooking, laundry, and taking care of me and my brother. I didn’t really have time for cleaning or dishes or barely any schoolwork. She was furious with me and made me feel horrible. She called me a terrible kid, told me I didn’t care about her at all, stuff like that. I told her I really tried my hardest but she didnt believe me. She told the rest of my extended family what had happened and they were also all pissed at me. I felt like my world was crashing down around me with my only support being my best friend, my then boyfriend, and my brother.

Also, about not being on meds, what a fun story! Around the time I started 7th grade I was going to a psychiatrist along with my brother. I told her my struggles with things akin to symptoms of ADHD, though I never was put on medication or told what was wrong. Fast forward 2 years to my freshman year of Highschool. I had just moved and found a new therapist. She brought me to her house one day to discuss and talk, and showed me some of my psychiatric documents. On the paper with diagnoses it read depression (knew i had and was taking meds for), anxiety (again, knew and was taking meds), „other unspecified trauma“, and.... ADHD? I told my therapist that to my knowledge I had never been diagnosed w/ adhd. She said that was strange and to ask my grandmother, so when I got home she did. She said she was sure I didn’t REALLY have ADHD so she told the physicians not to prescribe me anything. I was shocked and angry. If I had known sooner I could have avoided so much difficulty.

A similar thing happened to my brother too. He was diagnosed with autism at a very young age but again, my grandmother refused to believe it and changed doctors until she found one that said he was „only“ adhd and who also recommend corporal punishment. She promptly got him prescribed as many sedating drugs as she legally could so he’d be a quiet little child or whatever. It makes me fucking sick.

Anyways yeah. Sorry for this I‘m just so outraged right now after thinking about it.

Edit: more because sjdklfkgnvv

Elementary school was hell for me. From the day I started I was the weird kid and the gross kid. No one wanted to play with me. No one talked to me or invited me over or spent time with me. I felt so alone. A lot of my recess time was either spent swinging on the swings, wandering around the playground, and in 5th grade, sitting on the ground and that’s it.

Thinking back on it I feel like I missed out on a lot. I felt like no one liked me, and I grew to despise myself. I still have about 90% of that residual self hate today.

My freshman year of Highschool played out similarly. I felt humiliated when anyone noticed me because it was almost always negative, most of the time no one did though. I didn’t make any friends or memories or anything. I hope the rest of high school isn’t this way. I don’t want to get hurt again. I only have one friend who lives in a different city that I can’t drive to and I haven’t seen them at all this year because of this stupid fucking virus. I feel miserable.

Middle school was okay because thats when I made a friend finally. But a lot of shit happened that I don’t want to get into. I also still felt disliked by everyone around me but I could drown it out because I had someone to talk to.

I feel so tired of this. I just want people to like me and be happy with me. What am I doing wrong? I don’t want to make people sad or uncomfortable or angry. I feel like that’s all I do as well as inconvenience or manipulate people. I don’t know what to do. I can only distract myself with interests or cute or funny pictures or videos.

[luked4nuke]

If, I were President of the United States. (I just wanna state I’m not a democrat or republican)

First I’d enforce Quarantine and extend it. I’d also attend the poorest families or individuals first and provide them with the financial assistance they need. People are struggling hard enough as it is living paycheck to paycheck.

Second I’d shut down the schools as I believe safty more important especially for the future kids who will rule this place. I also don’t like how schools give so much homework and stress. They just condition kids into beleiving working 40 hours a week is normal and that you should be lucky to have weekends. Staying in classes all day then returning home only to be forced to complete more homework that takes up time and robs them of social interactions. These schools don’t even test knowledge. They test obedience and reward them for being quiet little slaves that will slowly become a “regular worker.” They really don’t care about how smart you are, they test memory over all else, when they study a subject and pass the test they move on quickly to the next one stressing them out. If they failed the test, to bad they’re still moving on with you. (Sorry this got way of topic. I just hate how schools operate and also how low they pay the teachers)

Third I would dismantle the police force and create a new one. A better one that focuses on real problems like sex trafficking and drugs. All the horrible crimes that are allowed to fly under the radar. Any excessive use of force would be heavily punished. Fired, fined and jail time. No shooting at peaceful protesters, seriously dafaq is wrong with them unleashing hell upon unarmed civilians and sneaking in rioters to escalate it to justify the force.

Fourth, gold is a finite resource. Pretty much all the money you’ve ever spent is fake, all digital backed by nothing. Personally I hate it but you’ve all becomes achstomed to it so I would attempt to fix the economy so people can afford essential things, like homes and food. Instead of kicking out homeless people Id build shelters. They make it to easy to fall down into poverty and nearly impossible to climb back up. Once you’ve been arrested, once you’ve been homeless, you understand the struggle of trying to reintergrate with society. The easiest path become the dark one. I would attempt to control the population, America is a gigantic habitat and likewise it has a carrying capacity. If you’re gonna argue people have to pay unreasonable amounts of money for food you’re crazy.

Immigrants are definitely allowed as long as they follow the rules and don’t commit crimes. America was litterally founded on immigrants. American stole land from the natives violently and even managed to capture Hawaii, which was its own nation. They taxed us and recognized us as a small power. Iolani Palace has electricity flush toilets and even phones before the White House did. Queen Lili’uokalani signed in duress. It horrible and sheforfeited her whole kingdom in exchange for the people, as a leader should. The people make a country, the government already should put the people first. Without all the hardworking Americans working, there is no country.

We don’t serve the government. As a government worker we serve the people. It’s our duty to ensure everybody is treated fairly. To make sure everybody that we oversee has the essentials for life, a home and food.

And for LGBT rights. I personally don’t care what the heck they do. Love is love, let it be. They can chose to identify as whoever they want and pursue relationships with whoever. You can’t force things onto people. America is supposed to be freedom personified, we can chose to do as we please as long as we don’t bring harm to others. Those camps are wrong. America is also religion free, you can be whatever you want, Christian Muslim, litterally anything. Being a satanist is totally legal as long as you don’t hurt anything. Believe in what you want and don’t force it on others. Gay people are amazing! We all are, were all human and we can change and create change. We are all human at the core and we always have been. We have a right to love, and to be loved by all around us. Love is love, let it be, theres always been love. I can identify as a man or woman, and I can damn well love either as I please as long it’s reciprocated. I’d always rather say I love you too much then not enough.

Climate change is real. The pollution of those stupidly large companies is also VERY real. As an individual you contribute less than a percent of the actual pollution, it’s literally the big corporations. That needs to stop. I’m not exactly sure how but I AM GOING to start a wave of change that will benefit the worlds health. We all live here. This is not political, I don’t have time for games, scientists that have studied their whole lives are begging for us to change. We can all have solar electricity farms and then it’d be FREE. “But you can’t charge people for that you can’t make money.” I’m NOT TRYING TO MAKE MONEY I DO NOT CARE ANOUT MONEY. IM AIMING FOR SOMETHING BIGGER THAN GREED THE BETTERMENT OF HUMANITY. I don’t care about ruining electric companies and other random fossil fuels bullshits that will run out, I want the future to be bright!

Screw it im going off the rails, schools main courses should focus on stuff like self sustainment, like farming and wilderness survival. Creativity because that’s the most human thing about us! Empathy basic Psychology. Kids can get mad they should learn and understand why. Understand why they feel the feelings they feel and giving them all better emotional control. EMPATHY. They need to learn things like taxes since they’re such a big part. Also why the heck are taxes so complicated. It’s just targeting the illiterate foreigners and immigrants who struggle and try to understand it and I believe that’s horrible. Make it easier to become apart of America the land of freedom and the getaway from the crueler areas of earth. Maybe just limit the population. Also seriously fuck off with taxes! Why the hell are you charging and taxing 14 year olds that aren’t allowed to vote, thats taxation without representation.

Taxes should be like Mario kart and Ancient Greece. Quote from some thing I googled

“The philosopher Aristotle developed the theme. His "magnificent man" gave vast sums to the community. But poor men could never be "magnificent" because they did not have the financial means. True wealth consists in doing good, Aristotle argued in the Art of Rhetoric: in handing out money and gifts, and helping others to maintain an existence.

The idea is simple the higher up you are on the financial ladder the more you have to pay taxes and contribute to society. The large taxes from the rich help fund financial aid for the poor and stuff. The rich did not earn that money they climbed to top on top a mountain of millions of shortcuts and underpaid workers It should be an honor to be taxed and help the poor people survive. Like in Mario kart, the higher you’re placed the harder it is to maintain it and the last place people always get the better power ups giving them a constant fighting chance. At most I believe wealth should be hoarded to sustain like one generation of kids, two at the most. Maybe three but theres no reason anybody should have all that money that your never going to spend or all that money that becomes worthless once a war or breaks out or aliens attack or something. Life is more important than money. Something simple everyone should consider.

I think everybody should be able to pursue a career and each career should be sustainable. Enjoyment in a job of your choosing without worrying about financial burden. Jobs would be divided into smaller simple groups and the pay would based on their contribution to society. Like doctors getting paid more and getting teachers paid more, but small retailers wouldn’t get paid as much but they could survive not living paycheck to paycheck. The motivation is everybody should free to pursue the hobby they love without being punished. Maybe little Timmy doesn’t want to be a firefighter, maybe he desires a simple fun life selling flowers. That’s fine! Maybe they don’t wanna become the hero but it’ll be an honor to society. As long as you have a job that contributes to society you can live for free. If everybody is constantly trying to make the most profit, then we all become a bucket of crabs dragging each other down. I can’t sell my $10 good that costed me $2 to make. Also the whole buy back thing irritates me, I spent $60 on this goddamn game and GameStop can only give me like $10 in store credit or $5 in real life? That’s isn’t fair and that applies to pretty much everything. That’s $1000 phone you bought is barley worth $357 right now. I’m pretty sure it didn’t cost that much to make these things but like DAMN. Capitalism sucks.

In summary, I don’t know much about politics but I would be the human party. I don’t care about left or right. I’m the one that doesn’t care about money. I care more about life and creativity. Peoples right to enjoyment and living a happy life with others regardless of gender. Survival of the human race and advancement into the future where more things are free and we can constantly focus on creating an even BETTER one. We can’t go anywhere without each other especially if we’re all just a bucket of crabs. To greedy and self destructive constantly looking out only for themselves. Seriously get your act together humans before you kickstart your own downfall. If we’re all trying to make a profit, nobody does. The best things in life are free. You can pursue wealth for your future or you can focus and live and enjoy and love the now. Mario kart style, where all in this race for life and we all deserve a winning chance.

[damnscl]

『OLIVIA WILDE ╱ CIS FEMALE 』 » well, is that RILEY? this two-year-old (appears thirty-three) SYNTHETIC has only been in PANORAMA CITY for about two years, usually found WATCHING VINTAGE ROMANCE MOVIES when she wasn’t working as a WORKER AT THE GRIND. she DOES support synthetic rights and IS being watched by the government.  ╱  medusa, 24, pst

biography (tw sex work): 

riley was crafted two years ago. she is considered one of the most upgraded/updated synths the sander corporation has to offer, especially for her line of business. 

she is a brothel worker at the grind, known exclusively for being one of the cheaper establishments of the sort throughout panorama city/arcadia - for both its overnight fares and its ‘merchandise.’ 

because of this, the grind sees quite a large number of clients. it works around the clock, with faces pouring in and out every hour. it’s not exactly the nicest place to step into, but certainly one full of life and sins. because of this, it is easy for upper class citizens to bleed into the crowd, going through their vices undetected. it is also normal to have criminals/other seedy individuals doing their business on the grounds, having their entertainment, going home and starting their day over again. in summary, all walks of life travel the grind’s doors. 

the funny thing about this most upgraded synth? the one that’s totally not supposed to have emotions? surprise: riley was ‘born’ with them. not necessarily full on force (in fact, it would take awhile for her to fully realize her emotions/the difference between her and her coworkers), but she was relatively conscious of herself. her personality was so well-crafted though that most coders/engineers/etc just thought it a fancy format. and she did too. she didn’t think twice about her mistakes until she saw others punished for the same sort of actions/behavior. 

her ‘flaws’ started as a misplaced giggle in the middle of a client’s fantasy, a roll of her eyes when a passing bystander talked poorly of the place/synths, etc. little things written off without attracting too much attention. all parts of her fun, unique program. 

and she was pretty unique in the brothel. riley is crafted to be the sweet, bubbly, fun-loving, wild, playful, spontaneous type of synth. the one to keep everyone on their toes, spark laughter and smiles and hungry gazes with her flip of a switch work behavior. she can go from the quirky girl next door to whatever role her clients need her to fill in the bedroom: vixen, dominatrix, brat, soft lover, you get the idea. 

while riley actually doesn’t mind her work, she doesn’t necessarily want to be doing it for the rest of her life. she’s sort of torn between doing what she knows/being content, and risking exploring life outside of the grind maybe with someone she loves. sex is fine, but romance? everything to her. she is constantly sneaking cheesy romance flicks, and even a client has gotten in the habit of procuring rare vintage films for her. 

for now, the synth keeps a positive and upbeat outlook on her life. she enjoys some clients, some of her coworkers (particularly the ones with emotions), and some folks she just happens to run into.

details:

riley is pansexual, panromantic (prefers women).

she was crafted to sound like she’s from slovenia/eastern europe. her accent (and somewhat inspiration for her personality) can be found here, here, here, and here!

is the epitome of chaotic good. generally doesn’t hate one anyone because of their professions/etc. but doesn’t go for hurting others that don’t deserve it. but to the people who do? sure. she just doesn’t want to hear the details. would like for everyone to get along, humans and synths alike. 

everyone thinks she’s more innocent because of the way she acts, but she’s definitely got a jealous, temperamental, stubborn, teasing/taunting, sly side. however, it’s less to do with grand scheme and more she doesn’t know what she’s feeling but she’s feeling it. 

she is requested to change her appearance for work with simple mods/accessories/etc. she likes to don a short, blue wig or short, black one. but her normal hair is long and brown. has very light  blue eyes, speckled with violet. 

the government is watching her purely because she’s a new model and because she works at the brothel, which is always a source of drama.

wanted connections:

her fellow coworkers at the brothel: the people she can rely on, the rivals, the ones who are protective of her, the one who might love her. 

her clients (new/former/reoccurring): she treats her work like what it is. but she’s usually up to have fun and enjoy herself and get a kick out of her clients’ requests. she’s beloved by most, and spoiled with gifts/etc because of it. 

the unexpected friend and protector: he wound up being someone she met when she first joined the brothel. the first person to really see that she wasn’t without emotions. that she needed protecting as she gained more conscious thought/feelings. he handles her less than pleasant clients, making them disappear. taken: alexei rezanov. 

friends, enemies, people who are pissed at her for her job/being with people they know, found family who love her and want to keep her safe, drinking buddy, other customers at the grind that haven’t hired her specifically, people who recognize she’s more ‘emotional’ than a synth should be, etc.

[geek-gem]

Now considering I did this with the first two Resident Evil films. But now I’m doing one with Doom. To be honest I stalled on this. 

I’m just gonna say some stuff. I love the Doom franchise, I love the video games. Including I love the character of Doomguy/Doom Slayer. But I’ve only seen bits of the movie and I have watched the first person scene on YouTube. Including I know how the movie goes with Filmcomicsexplained detailing the story of that 2005 movie.

Including I just don’t wanna watch the movie. Because it’s one of those video game movies that just doesn’t treat it’s source material right enough, and just doesn’t overall seem like a good film. Even if it had little things you can like. Along with the fact despite the upcoming movie Doom Annihilation having actual demons now. The idea Universal decided to put it as a direct to video movie instead of in theaters. Which is really disappointing but considering the 2005 film bombed, I could understand. But the fact of how the film looks and just.....it’s stupid. Despite some things I have read that Doomguy is in the film still.

To be honest I wouldn’t mind it two ways. One we might not get another Doom film again or just maybe we shouldn’t get one. Two a Doom film can work in some regards. Yet to be honest I feel like what I read of people wanting a, “Avengers” big movie seems very ridiculous and I wouldn’t mind a low budget or just....a simple movie can work.

But I shouldn’t make that the point. The point of this post is a what if situation of if that first Doom movie was while a loose adaption, a better movie that respects the source material more. Basically actual demons and other shit. Yet also I have thought about taking elements from the games and even well novels. Which might piss some fans off of the novels part. Don’t worry the demons aren’t aliens they are actually still demons and not mutants like in the film. 

Yet the idea was of to make a film that I guess honors the Doom franchise. While also mainly sticking with the original game. But also taking elements from other stuff such as Doom 3. Which is a game I do like as well. 

Basically a loose adaption that isn’t perfect but respects the Doom franchise itself and could be it’s own take on the franchise. Especially as someone who has thought of a Doom movie of how it could work. Such as taking elements from the 2016 game. But we are focusing on what was released in 2005. Honestly I’d should start making this now, sorry to ramble on.

Synopsis: It is 2022, humanity has been able to reach beyond Earth and go to other planets. Such as Mars with the corporation known as UAC has made it possible living there. Especially it’s moons Phobos and Deimos

But also behind the scenes, the UAC has been performing secret experiments with teleportation. Yet during these experiments they’ve unleashed something truly terrible. A portal to literal Hell. 

Now with the facility has been overrun with demons. Killing almost everyone and even many becoming possessed and acting like zombies. Especially it’s worse with other demons that are more ferocious such as the Imps, Pinky’s, and more. They are all over the UAC Mars Research Base, and Mars City.

A group of survivors try to survive this onslaught. When all hope seems lost, a marine(Dwayne Johnson) who was punitively posted at the facility is determined to kill all the demons and make sure they don’t get back to Earth. Including take down the now insane Dr. Malcom Betruger(Robert Englund) who has sided with the demons, intent on helping them get to Earth.

Characters.

Dwayne Johnson as Flynn Taggart The Doomguy: A 29 year old corporal who is sent to the Mars facility to assist as punishment for assaulting his senior officer who ordered him to shoot a group of civilians. 

He’s more of a, “Actions speak louder than words” kind of guy. The, “Strong Silent Type” kind of marine. Doesn’t really speak unless he feels like it or if it’s necessary. Capable of handling all different kinds of firearms. Including being quite fast during combat, hardly stressed at all, and strong as hell.

Despite what makes him seem to be a brooding loner who doesn’t seem to care for anyone. Especially before the outbreak everyone looked at him as if he was a scary brute. He’s actually a man with a big heart. Such as helping a person calm down during a situation when they need it, and cares more about other the safety of other people’s lives than his own. A honorable marine who hates bullies and seems chill when there is no combat.

But when the outbreak of demons happens, his team of other marines who he has made friends with are killed when investigating the base. Along with also his pet rabbit he brought to Mars is killed by demons.

With his friends and his own pet he considered family killed, and the demons intention to get to Earth, Flynn is determined to make sure they never reach their goals. No matter how many there are and how powerful they are.

Including during combat, he wears a helmet to protect his head just in case.

Notes: As a fun easter egg instead of him being 30 years old. I decided to have him be born on the day the original Doom was released. Which is December 10 1993. Meaning well yeah this film would take place in December. 

Along with the fact I know Dwayne in the 2005 movie was offered to play John Grimm but he chose to play the sarge. I wanted to make this fan casting. Along with the fact while I do agree with the idea Doomguy is a character in his own right that doesn’t need to speak and again a actions speak louder than words kind of guy. Including the fact he’s supposed to be the player character. 

Yet this movie version of the Flynn character who is more serious and more akin to what Doomguy seems to be like. Such as even the 2016 games. Basically more serious than what the novels described Flynn as. 

This version is basically I guess a representation of Doomguy as a person. If we didn’t go with the route of no talking and other things. He’s a Doomguy in his own right. But it’s a different take that I did to best respect the original character if I had to go with the route if he had to talk and other stuff.

Including let’s have a fun scene like the final shootout scene of The Rundown(A film Dwayne Johnson was in) but it’s Doomguy with the demons. Just showcasing Doomguy’s badassness in the scene. I’m talking about the Boom Shakalaka scene which I had watched before making this post.

Karl Urban as John “Reaper” Grimm: One of the few marines that has survived the onslaught of the demon outbreak on Mars. A Staff Sargent who seems rather angsty years after his parents who were UAC scientists died in a accident. But still cares for his Samantha Grimm and also a new friend of his named Emma Grace. 

While he didn’t take a liking towards Flynn at first assuming Flynn didn’t care for anyone but himself. He realizes Flynn and him share the same values of honor and other things. Especially in a way similar losses to his own.

Notes: I’m gonna say I like Karl Urban and from what I know people liked Karl as Reaper who is basically the Doomguy in the movie. But I have not watched the movie fully and wondered if I should. So I can’t make my own opinion. But I decided to keep his character and decided to keep his back story too for people who liked him.

Robert Englund as Dr. Malcom Bertruger: The Research director at Mars. After being teleported into Hell once and made a pact with the demons. Once a respected man who has now become evil, showcasing more of who he is. Especially after years being on Mars and helping the demons prepare for the outbreak. 

Including he is also responsible for brining back a once dead demon back to life into the now powerful Cyberdemon.

Notes: Originally I was gonna have Mads Mikkelsen(who’s also awesome) as Bertruger. Mainly cause of a reviewers comparison of the character to Hannibal Lector or whatever. But I thought Robert Englund was just a fun choice and just the idea of Freddy Krueger is the one who unleashes these demons or whatever.

Mary Elizabeth Winstead as Emma Grace: A rookie security officer who has been at the Mars facility for a while now. While despite being a officer, she’s has shown to be paranoid and the demon outbreak makes it all worse. But when she meets Flynn, she becomes more courageous after being inspired by Flynn’s determination and bravery. 

Rosamund Pike as Dr. Samantha Grimm: The twin sister of John Grimm and a doctor at the Mars research facility. She was one of the few people who began noticing something was up with Bertruger. 

Considering people liked Reaper and what I’ve seen on Tumblr some folks liked Samantha so she’s here too.

List of demons: Imps, possessed soldiers and overall zombies, Cacodemons, Pinky’s, Lost Souls, Barons Of Hell, and the Cyberdemon. With them while looking demonic, it’s respecting the original source material. But the film can make it’s own take on the demons. Yet the point being they have color and they just look demonic as hell. Also you can tell which one is which or whatever.

The Cyberdemon in a way is the big demon antagonist of the film. Including for this film I decided to keep it simple by mainly using the demons from the first game.

Also I just wanna spoil the ending and just talk about that. Basically the survivors are Flynn, Reaper, Emma, and Samantha. But Flynn because he wants them all to survive and he personally wants to take on Hell himself. He makes sure they all escape to Earth, making sure none of the demons get to Earth.

Flynn takes on the Cyberdemon and kills it. Including he finds Bertruger and maybe kills him or Bertruger dies on his own. Maybe becoming the Maledict. But also Flynn purposely decides to trap himself in Hell to take on the forces of Hell. Which speaks volumes about his character because he wants to make sure no demons even set foot on Earth.

Including being in Hell gives him more power, such as more speed, more strength, and he can’t get tired. The demons prepare to brace themselves for their new found terror of the warrior who has literally stood up to them during the onslaught of Mars. With Flynn embracing his situation and runs towards the armies of Hell. In vengeance for every innocent person who was killed by the demons by also Daisy.

It’s also a call back to the ending of Doom 64. Along with the fact considering what happened with the first Doom film. While a excuctive producer said if the first film was successful, there would be a sequel, but the film bombed. Yet for this if a Hell On Earth happened. This film has a solid ending but it’s open in a way. With also a smooth transition to a sequel if it got one.

Also for this can we get a different director. Considering looking at the directors list of directed films on Wikipedia. Maybe someone else like Peter Berg, or Paul W.S. Anderson(Yes I said his name but I feel the director for the Doom movie might be not the best choice). I did think of including Robert Rodriguez, but I don’t know if I would trust him with how I envisioned this movie.

Besides I should say this, if wait Paul and Milla Jovovich weren’t married yet so she wouldn’t be involved. XD Besides I heard that Event Horizon by Paul W.S. Anderson is basically what the Doom movie should of been or something.

But yeah that’s a lot of wrote. Well I hope anyone who reads this enjoys this. Really it’s just a simple what if idea for that Doom movie. Just tell me your thoughts on this. Whether it’s an idea or advice. Again I just wanted to get this out of my system and out of the way. I’m done with the tags, hope you folks in the Doomguy tag don’t mind this.

Edit(also a 2nd edit forgot to put the last period at the end of this too) I’d forgot to mention if this got a Rotten Tomatoes score, it be 34% probably that, basically the 2002 Resident Evil’s score. I’d think I’ll leave it as that unless people think the film sounds better than it is.

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

Punk Girl/Civil War Submission by The Wild West Pyro

Heyo, good morning/afternoon/evening/night

My friend on discord (The Wild West Pyro) had an absolutely mind-blowing theory concerning who the band ‘Punk’ Girl is, why she’s important to the story, and how she will lead to the rift in the Calypso Twins relationship. I don’t want to spoil anything for you guys, so I’m just going to dive right in.

(A majority of this will be directly from our conversation, with [some edits by me] to help with context and add in pictures.)

Here we go!

So we figured Punk Girl is in some way related to the CoV, or the cult in general, as she makes an appearance on what seems to be a cult-centric shirt on the gearboxloot instagram page (more credit to @ifalnasminiatures for providing me with this link!) 

“Well, there are [a few] ways this could go:

Punk is linked to the COV and is intended to spread their message even further with the typical subliminal brainwashing thing. So they can broadcast outside of the planets the Cult has a presence on.

It’s a sore subject between the Twins, but one they hide rather well. The girl is related to them, she’s just considered by one of them as “that disgrace who refused to reclaim the birthright and ran off to join a band instead, ugh.”

She’s a band that works for the Cult sometimes. But in fact, she’s the eyes and ears of the Alliance within the Cult. Best of all is that she’s directly related to the Twins. Secretly, she disapproves of what they’re doing, but she’s the Alliance’s best hope of what’s going on.”

[That last one is the one he goes over the most, and it’s super interesting.]

“The Twins never suspect that the spy was in fact the one closest to their hearts.”

[my response: It would explain why there are no other bosses on the MoM that we know of (excluding the twins bc those are guaranteed), because she’s never going to become a fight even tho she looks the part]

“Also, [regarding] the last bit of your post, it’s just asking for a sidequest where it’s revealed that all the Gen 3.0 VHs known how to play some sick bass.

Punk Girl: ‘Hey, my bass guy is sick, can you take over?’

Zane: ‘FECK YEAH’”

[We talk a bit here about a Scott Pilgrim-esque Battle of the Bands, with Mr. Torgue as the competition, so there’s a bit of a transition that’s missing.]

“Hey, you know how Athena encrypted her messages between Engorge commercials? Punk Girl cleverly hides her messages in her music or backmasking. That’s how she sends her info to the Vault Hunters.

The twins never suspect a thing, and when she finally reveals she’s been working for Lilith, they’re genuinely shocked- and then the rift develops. One sibling would want to protect the girl, the other would want to punish her. The twins seem extremely close, so I personally feel it’d be odd if one of them up and betrayed the other [without outside influence].

It would be a great twist, too. Jack always had something planned out to trip up the Vault Hunters. But Lilith has learned much within these seven years. It turns out, Lilith is far better at pulling the strings than we ever thought Tyreen was.

Also, when Punk Girl reveals that she’s a spy for the Alliance (likely mid-game), this happens:

Tyreen screaming “YOU BITCH” amongst other horrible things and ECHOing up Punk Girl to verbally abuse her for hours, which continues through the rest of the game.

Troy trying to gently persuade his youngest sister to “Please come back” and “I don’t want to kill you”, attempting to smooth-talk her back into supporting the Cult. He keeps on ECHOing her gift baskets.

The twins arguing with each other over the fate of Punk Girl. Which, if done right, could potentially lead to a civil war within the Cult…

And to think it was all over a nice girl in a cool band.

Of course, both Troy and Tyreen are trying to kill the Alliance still, they’re just now divided over the fate of the girl and who’s gonna get the power of the vaults.

Which would add a human layer to it all- in the end, it’s just two selfish children squabbling over some big, universe-shattering toys. Albeit with billions of lives ended in the crossfire.

The war predicted by the Watcher was terrible. Zarpedon said so as well.

And, honestly, nothing’s more brutal and vicious than a civil war several galaxies-wide.”

[It was at this point that I absolutely lost my shit (in a good way) bc goddamn bro]

“Ideally, Tyreen goes out of her way to harass, demean and try to ruin poor Punk Girl’s life, and the [Crimson Raider] Alliance have to help her stand emotionally as Punk Girl undergoes a truly horrible campaign of cyberbullying, physical assault, very violent death threats and actual attacks on her band members. Tyreen mobilizes all her loyal followers to just try to hurt Punk Girl on whatever way they can.

Troy is a little different. He’s supposed to represent the streamer who manipulates fans into giving him what he wants, or scams folks by pretending to be disabled or whatever. Or the handsome fellow who’s a total self-centered jackass on the inside, but charms many people’s hearts nonetheless. So he tries to subtly brainwash Punk Girl into returning over to the Cult, and sweet-talking her to try and get her back on his sides. He’s like the caring, warm big brother on the surface, but really he just wants a new loyal sibling at his side, someone he can control far more easily. Troy’s promises are extremely alluring, his followers appear to be proposing an alliance with the Raiders (which Lilith refuses at all costs) and it’s going to be difficult for Punk Girl to resist his brainwashing techniques and honeyed words.

Basically, protect Lilith’s most treasured and loyal agent, including asking out Atlas and maybe other friendly corporations for favors to protect Punk Girl and her bodyguards (the new VHs). Bonus points if Punk Girl really is a latent Siren or something, and her power has to be safeguarded.”

[So, we know the unknown Sirens (there are two atm) are, if we understand Siren powers correctly: 12 and 7 at the time of bl3. 

HOWEVER. It’s been stated by Danny Homan that there are multiple ways for someone to receive Siren powers: 

The most important part of this exchange is the idea that, in universe, somehow, existing people can become Sirens. Now, I am not sure if this is solely through other Siren powers (Tyreen), or Vault bullshitery, or if they just wake up one day with the tattoos, but according to Homan, it’s definitely possible. In fact, I would go so far as to say the writers are keeping things intentionally vague for this reason.

What I’m trying to reason here is that even if Punk Girl is older than 12 or 7 (odds are she is, if she’s in a band!), she could still be a Siren, just that she got her powers at a later age, like 11 or so, meaning she’d be about 23 or 18 in BL3, respectively]

“If Angel does return, and Punk Girl is going through utter hell thanks to the twins, Angel will be the finest confidant and greatest friend she’ll ever have. Angel went through similar treatment at the hands of Jack, and she’s not going to let another girl with wings get hurt again. 

I mean, most of Punk Girl’s story arc would be heartbreaking, as it really seems like the Twins have fully turned their wrath on her rather than Lilith and the Alliance. Luckily, the Vault Hunters are there to act as her shield. Like, whenever you pass her in the ship, your character can give a random line of encouragement in the really tough times she’s going through, or something like that. 

And if Punk Girl turns out to be the final Siren after all, Lilith, Angel, and Maya would all ensure that she’d never be hurt like they were in the past. 

As the abuse Punk Girl would be receiving is from her own blood relations, [it] would be far more painful for someone to experience.

Now, for how the corporations may get involved, they’ll probably just start by trying to exploit this new galactic-wide civil war (especially as it’s hinted that the Twins do mass brainwashing or something [in the] Psycho character guide), then throwing each others’ armies at their rivals in support of one Twin or another. Although I’d imagine that Atlas and maybe Jakobs would stay out of it. [In addition], the Hyperion analyst in Moze’s ECHO from Commander Lily has dialogue that implies that all the corporations are preparing in case a Second Corporate War breaks out, since the first one essentially made the BL universe what it is now.

There we go, we have the war set up, as entire populations turn on each other, having become psychos pledging undying loyalty to one of the Twins. It’s going to be a mess.

[To end] on a comical level:

Maya: (hugging both [Ava and Punk Girl]) I love my dumpster children.

[Also:]

Tyreen, with this red background and thrash metal playing in the background and “angry war face” makeup: HEY MY WHORE OF A LITTLE SISTER, YOU ARE A [insert hate speech from evil liverstreamer gremlin here].

Troy, in a fancy suit and in a warm armchair with a fireplace roaring behind him: Hello, little sister. You remember the time we played at the beach together? Well… [insert sentimental tale of sibling love and fun here that is really a thinly veiled plea to rejoin the Cult].

That’s it, that’s both their streams from that point on.”

[I don’t have much to add, to be honest. This was great.

I love the whole thing, all the way down to his characterization of everyone involved. I can totally see Tyreen being the loud, explosive one out of the two, with Troy being quieter, but far more manipulative. I think it would contrast nicely with their designs and what people might be expecting from them, especially with how Troy is the big one with his cybernetics and always scowling, and Tyreen is shorter, always smirking and looking like she’s in control. It’d be so funny to see those two roles reversed and I really, really hope that’s the plan. Especially after the reveal that Troy is the one with the braincell lmao.

The idea that this small incident could end up causing a huge, brutal war, not just between the twins, but the corporations as well, is great. We know the Watcher claims ‘war is coming’, and this would help explain what we should expect. It would be very interesting if we needed to pick a side of aid at the start of the fight (i do imagine this will be Troy if The Wild West Pyro’s characterization of the twins is true), then turn on that side once the other is eliminated.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I do!! Massive credit to The Wild West Pyro for literally all of it. It was a really fun read.]

[soulerflaire]

So I beat the story of Pokemon Shield yesterday, and now I’ve had time to think about everything. Spoilers below the cut. Also super long post.

First I wanna focus on gameplay.

Overall, fantastic Pokemon game. I liked a lot of the new Pokemon, I felt there was a really good variety of Pokemon available throughout, graphics were good, the gym missions were (mostly) clever and (mostly) fun.

I heard people had complaints about the starters, but I like them. I picked Scorbunny and was terrified he’d end up Fire/Fighting, but Cinderace (and all the starters) remained single-type. I think their designs are cool! I love Rillaboom’s drum and Cinderace’s soccer fireball attack. I like Inteleon the least of the three, but I still think his design is neat. It is basically finger guns: the Pokemon, which is funny, but not particularly interesting to me. I’m glad I picked Scorbunny.

I liked the set up of the Gym Challenge, though the pacing was a bit weird. Not sure if that was me or the game, but I felt like there was very little story between each gym. That led to me doing several gyms in rapid succession, then spending 3 hours in the Wild Area doing nothing, then tackling another set of gyms. But the gym challenges were fun! Except the fire one. I hated that. And the battles themselves felt awesome! The crowd cheering (especially in the final part of the music, oh my god that was so good), the huge Pokemon, the dialogue, it all made for a match that felt like it mattered. Even if I one-shot all their Pokemon, the match still felt meaningful. It wasn’t just stomp and move on.

I think the Wild Area was a cool experiment, but either make the whole game like that, or don’t have it. It feels like the Safari Zone; an area disconnected from the rest of the game, with the express purpose of catching Pokemon and nothing else. Except it’s so huge and seems to have every single Pokemon in the game, so long as the weather is right, that I feel like there was no point in catching Pokemon anywhere else. Why bother even touching the tall grass when I’m travelling through the regular world, when I can just catch whatever would be in there in the Wild Area later? And frankly, I never really got punished for that mentality. I can just catch them all in the Wild Area later. The only hurdle is they all turn level 60 after you become champion, which I have very mixed feelings about. I would like to hear their explanation for doing that, tbh.

Max Raid battles feel really cool, but god damn, Nintendo, you have got to get a better connection system. Half the time, I can’t find any raids to join because there are no shout cards popping up and the button to get new cards isn’t there for some reason. Even when I can see the cards, most of the time I fail to join, either because the raid already started or the person cancelled the raid. There’s only a 3-minute window to join, and with the infrequent appearance of cards (with no timestamps) I have no idea if any of the cards I see are even from the past 10 minutes, let alone past 3. And the NPCs are randomly selected and use their moves randomly, so once you get to the 5+ star raids, you cannot use them at all. One of them is a friggin’ Magikarp that uses Hydro Pump for no damage and misses half the time anyway. Why!? That was funny exactly zero times!

The music, however, I have zero complaints about. Fantastic soundtrack! I love the gym battle music, and the Team Yell fight music, and the Wild Area bagpipes, and the legendaries fight music, and just pretty much all of it. If they release the soundtrack, I’m buying it immediately.

Graphics were good. I wasn’t blown away by them, but it’s a pretty game.

One thing I noticed is how rushed things started to feel towards the end. Initially, the world feels enormous. Routes are long and winding, and it really feels like exploring things. But the further into the game you go, the shorter the routes get. And there’s no Victory Road at all. Just an extremely short route called White Hill, with, like, 6 trainers and a couple grass patches. You take a train to the White Hill Station, and if you look at the map, you see you ended up skipping an entire mountain and a stretch of land twice the length of the actual route. Kinda feels like they planned to do something with all that space, but cut it later on. The forest that they did the 24-hour stream of, Glimwood Tangle? It’s tiny. Like a third the size of Viridan Forest. It’s gorgeous, sure, but I spent more time exploring the first town than I did in that place. The final town certainly looks enormous, but then it turns out you can’t access half of it, and a huge chunk in the middle of the part you can access is taken up by the rail station. Which has nothing important inside it. Just a generic mart and some NPCs to talk to. There was honestly a lot of stuff the seemed like it was gonna be something later, and ended up being nothing. If it’s all content that got cut to release the game sooner, that’s extremely disappointing. Frankly, I wonder if they bit off more than they could chew, turning Pokemon into a console game. They clearly were trying to make it worth being on console, but ended up running out of time.

Now for the story. This is probably the first Pokemon game I feel this way about, but honestly: I loved the characters, but found the story to be pretty lackluster.

Hop has a wonderful character arc, where he’s boastful and energetic, but slowly loses confidence as he keeps losing Pokemon battles, and falls into a depression after a particularly hard defeat. He seems to pull out of it after encouragement from friends, but then he spirals into it again when you beat him in the finals. He spends most of the endgame putting himself down and saying he can’t do anything to help, but as you travel together stopping the Dynamaxed Pokemon, he perks up again (thanks in part of Piers being a really good Dad despite having no kids), and all this culminates in him saying he’s realized being champion isn’t really for him; instead, he’s gonna become a Pokemon professor and travel around helping people and Pokemon wherever he can. It’s really sweet, and I like that we see a rival who actually does get upset that they keep losing to you all the time, without turning them into a villain. Hop is never not your friend during all this; he’s just sad and needs so many hugs.

Marnie was a lot more fun of a character than I was expecting. From the official art, I thought she was gonna be the super reserved, stoic character who gets angrier and angrier as she loses to you over and over. But she’s actually outgoing and fun, and loves battling the player even if she loses. And her brother Piers is just as good at subverting expectations. He’s all dressed up as a super punk rocker who’ll be a terrible influence on everyone, but he’s definitely the Tired Adult of the group when you’re travelling around trying to fix things, and he’s a good Dad friend. Team Yell is much less creepy now that I have context. Piers is a gym leader, and Team Yell is the gym staff that he asked to go help cheer Marnie on during her gym challenge. They’re overzealous, but they’re just trying to help her. Some of them even start cheering for you instead, once Piers acknowledges your skill.

Bede can go fuck himself. I know they tried to give him some kind of backstory or whatever, and some vague punishment/redemption with Opal making him the new Fairy Gym leader, but dude’s a dick, through and through.

I could go on and on about the characters, but this post is already getting too long, so I’ll talk about the story itself now. Through most of the game, you get hints that something bad is happening or going to happen, or something is going wrong, but every time one of those hints pops up, the adult say “Let us handle this, you focus on your gym challenge.” And that kind of bothered me at the time, because it’s like if you get the guard station outside Saffron City and start to argue with the guard, then Lance shows up and says “Hey, why not skip down to Vermillion City? I’ll take care of this.” And that’s the end of it. Next time you try to pass through, it’s open and there’s nothing wrong. You know something is going on, but no one will let you near it, so you just keep going on your gym challenge.

Later you find Leon (the champion) in an argument with Chairman Rose (owner of every corporation in the region) about an energy crisis. Rose says we need to start dealing with it now, Leon says it won’t happen for a thousand years, why do we need to bother right now. Then of course the Chairman triggers the Darkest Day right before your championship match with Leon, ranting about the energy crisis and whatnot, then you have to go stop the super powerful legendary Pokemon he released for Real Reasons That Definitely Make Logical Sense And Don’t Need Explained No Sir. At first, I thought this with a super shitty take on the energy crisis, that we’ll run out of fossil fuels and not have renewable energy ready. But if that’s the case, it’s extremely clumsy, because 1) no owner of a corporation gives two shits about anything a thousand years from now and 2) they had the guy warning everyone about the future crisis also be the guy who almost destroys the whole country. I chalked it up to being rushed and tried not to think about it too hard.

But now I’m thinking differently. There’s something Leon says, after the whole Darkest Day thing is averted: he’s gonna start thinking about the future now, and start working on ways to make the future better (or something to that effect). I think maybe the “moral” of the story is that we shouldn’t just let problems be until they come to a head, and we shouldn’t rely on others to take care of the problems. We relied on the adults to handle things in a reasonable manner, and it nearly led to the apocalypse. So maybe that’s the point? Don’t rely on others to take care of things; if you see a problem, try and fix it. And likely specifically talking about climate change and the destruction of the environment. Galarian Corsola is a bleached, dead coral for a reason.

If that’s the case, then A+ for message, D- for execution. But it’s Pokemon, I know they can’t get too serious about things. But it mostly led to a story I didn’t really enjoy, full of characters that I loved. While I would prefer to finally have the remake of Gen 4, I wouldn’t be sad to see a Sword and Shield 2.