#which is fuck you how can I frame my existence in such a way as to make the transphobe as uncomfortable and morally dissonant as possible

[grison-in-space]

also I am grudgingly having to admit that it is at this point just fucking easier to use she and they interchangeably as far as pronouns go, based on the reactions I get when I don't bother to specify and then people flutter around and worry about it.

goddammit I'm going to have to actually interrogate my public identity label set. I hate that. hate having to figure out how to position myself formally in Discourse but I mean, if I'm gonna work in sex differences--currently a big part of my work--that kind of does need to be something I think about. augh.

[dev-solovey]

The answer is a walrus and I can explain why.

You know that episode of Unraveled where Brian David Gilbert goes through all the Smash Bros stages to figure out how many OSHA violations there are in each of them? The one where he finds the most violations is the stage that's actually supposed to be a construction site, simply because the fact that it is a construction site makes the violations easier to identify. It's easier to find regulations about a faulty ladder than it is to find regulations about like, a pit of lava.

I think the reason it's more baffling if a walrus shows up at our front door is because we have more concept of what that entails. Like, fairies are entirely a mystery, because they don't exist. The best we know about them are various tales about fairies, which differ from culture to culture, and there is no verifiable consensus information on them really. How did it get there? Fairy magic, idk. How do you get rid of it? Ask it to leave, it probably understands human speech. How do you react to this situation? Who fucking knows, it's a fairy.

But if a walrus showed up on our door, we do have some idea of how to react, because it's more grounded in things we already know. And we would have far more questions, because we have a better frame of reference for what it would take to get the walrus there, what the walrus might do, and what it would take to get it to leave. How did it get to my doorstep, in the middle of the desert? Did they fly it in on a helicopter? Why didn't I hear the helicopter? How did they keep it alive during the entire flight from San Diego to the Sonoran Desert? Is it a threat? How do I get rid of it? Call the police? What are they going to do about a wild animal that weighs as much as a car? Endangered species are protected by law - are walruses endangered? If they shoot it dead, will that cause controversy? Am I going to have reporters on my doorstep every day for the next month? Etc etc

I can get why some people would be more baffled to discover that fairies exist, but the problems presented are unknowable - and, given the very few bits of consensus information we have about them, they'd probably be a lot easier to interface with. A walrus is way more complicated, and probably more likely to gore you with it's tusks.

Anyway, I'm not sure how to end this but that's my thesis

[quasi-normalcy]

Which Star Trek series should you start with?

The Original Series: Advantages: + The one that started it all + Has some sophisticated and socially conscious science fiction that has held up exceptionally well + The lead characters all have really good chemistry and fun to see play off of one another + It's what most people probably think of when you say Star Trek (together with TNG) Disadvantages: - It can feel very dated and kind of sexist, particularly in its treatment of women - The sci-fi and social commentary may have held up, but damn it, the special effects really haven't - When TOS is bad, it's really, really bad.

The Animated Series: Advantages: + Basically just more TOS. Disadvantages: - Basically just more TOS, but substituting extremely cheap animation for bad special effects

The Next Generation: Advantages: + Probably the most popular one at this point + The crew is full of interesting characters and they're fun to spend time with + Just really smart people solving Space Mysteries + Socialist space utopia + Geordi-And-Data! + Lots of cool sci-fi concepts and social commentary + It's what most people probably think of when you say Star Trek (together with TOS) Disadvantages: - Although not in the same way as TOS, it can feel dated at times, particularly in terms of its treatment of women and it's near complete refusal to acknowledge queerness - Without wanting to bias viewer opinion, the first season is widely considered to be pretty bad - The series makes no bones about the fact that the socialist space utopia is better than every other society that has ever existed and will reiterate this point over and over again

Deep Space Nine: Advantages: + The most popular Trek series on Tumblr + Has a complete story arc, as well as arcs for all of its characters, including the extremely minor ones + Plain, simple, Garak. The humble tailor. + Garashir, if you're into that + Seriously has a really sophisticated treatment of things like post-colonial politics, anthropology, worldbuilding, and the horrors of warfare + Just the characters in general + Is the only Star Trek prior to the 2010s to even look meaningfully at queer representation Disadvantages: - Has an absolutely massive inferiority complex with respect to TNG and this drives a few poor writing decisions that seemingly exist just to poke the Socialist Space Utopia in its eye - Introduces a space religion and then just slowly turns it into Christianity with the numbers filed off - Seems to think that sexual harassment is just a quirky eccentricity - There's no women in its writers' room, and frankly it shows

Voyager: Advantages: + Probably the clearest instance of found family in space + Lots of really good episodes + Lots of fun new characters + Strong female role models + "Set a course...for home." Disadvantages: - Continuity? I never knew her! - Probably about 90% of Trek's reputation for technobabble comes from this one series - Even less queerness than TNG. - Only like...3 characters actually get arcs. - The first few seasons lean very hard into bullshit fake "Native American" spiritualism with one of the characters - How do these guys have warp drive but can't find any water?

Enterprise: Advantages: + Chronologically the first series + 90% less technobabble + The only series to plausibly frame our heroes as astronauts...on some kind of...star trek. + Still has probably the best production values of any series + Makes alien cultures of the week feel somehow richer and deeper than other series + Faith of the Heart is good, fuck you. Disadvantages: - Oh my god, the decon scenes - Seriously, if you've ever wondered what a "sexy" series written by a 14 year old boy who's only ever seen a bit of scrambled softcore porn on late-night cable would be like, this is the show for you - Somehow feels more sexist and racist than the show from the '60s - Seriously, the POC characters mostly exist to fill seats on the bridge; the women constantly have to undress themselves - Hellooooo, Bush II-era political analogies - Scott Bakula is a good actor but you wouldn't know it from this series - In season 3, they add a tambourine beat to Faith of the Heart and ruin it

Discovery: Advantages: + Noticed the lack of queer characters in the first 50 years of Star Trek canon and decided to make up for lost time + Seriously, the "Bury Your Gays" tally for this series is like...negative two + Just incredible representation in general + Some really good science fiction plots, particularly in later series + Some really fun, memorable characters + It's still running, so it has an active fandom on Tumblr Disadvantages: - Makes Elon Musk out to be one of the great visionary geniuses of history - Not really representative of Star Trek as a whole - The series swerves wildly in tone because of constant, behind-the-scenes churn in the writers' room - Offputtingly grimdark first season - Let's be honest, none of the season-long arcs have actually had satisfying conclusions - Half the cast feels like it's just there for exposition and to be killed for cheap drama

Picard: Advantages: + Has the best dramatic acting of any Star Trek series by a fair margin + Has the best musical score of any Star Trek series + Introduces a whole crew of fascinating new characters + Introduces all kinds of fascinating transhumanist concepts + AGNES. JURATI. Disadvantages: - You know all of those fascinating new characters that I mentioned? Yeah, it unceremoniously gets rid of all of them to bring back the old TNG gang. - You know that all of those fascinating transhumanist concepts that I mentioned? Yeah, it gets rid of those too so that to give us some generic action - Oh my god, someone teach the set designers to operate a fucking light switch - Grimdark - Nossssstalgia - Each season is basically unrelated to every other season - Depends so heavily on TNG that its final season is basically unwatchable if you haven't already seen a 30-year-old TV series

Lower Decks: Advantages: + It has probably the most efficient storytelling that I've ever seen; seriously, it's incredible how much it can fit into a half hour episode + It has a bunch of delightful, archetypical characters you get to know and love + You like hanging out with these people + The ship is kind of crap and you will learn to love it that way. + Basically a sitcom version of TNG. + Has a big fandom on Tumblr Disadvantages: - The art style is pretty Rick & Morty-ish - It takes most of its first season to really strike a good balance between being a sitcom and being a Star Trek series - The main character, Mariner, is kind of unlikable for the first season or so (she gets better) - Lots of callbacks to other series (though always either incidental or clearly explained) - Given that it's the first Star Trek sitcom, the comedy is honestly kinda the weakest part? Subjective I know.

Prodigy: Advantages: + Absolutely gorgeous to look at; the most visually stunning Star Trek by quite a ways + Lots of fun new characters on a cool ship + Gives you clear on-boarding notes to the Star Trek franchise if you're watching it for the first time + Can be watched on its own, but also works as a direct sequel to Voyager and a prequel to Picard (making both of them retoractively better, in fact) + Kind of like the Clone Wars or Rebels of the Star Trek universe, I guess? + Found family in space! The next generation! + Soon to be running on Netflix, so if you already have a Netflix subscription, you don't need to pay for another service + Written for a younger audience. Not necessarily an advantage, but nice if you happen to like family friendly animation or YA. Disadvantages: - *sigh* You basically need to pirate it. Thanks, Paramount. - Has a second season that we may or may not ever actually get to see even through piracy. Thanks, Paramount. - Isn't airing on the same streaming service as all of the other ones. Thanks, Paramount

Strange New Worlds: Advantages: + Basically what the original series would be if it were released today, rather than 57 years ago; all of the cool, socially consciousness sci-fi adventure, none of the weird 60s sexism + Fun, awesome characters you get to like spending time with right away + Incredible visuals + Nifty sci-fi concepts, mostly without the 90s-style technobabble Disadvantages: - A huge cast with only ten episodes a season, so many of them feel underdeveloped - Unfortunately, a bunch of its characters are younger versions of the characters from The Original Series, and they hog most of the spotlight; and the characters whose futures aren't locked in stone are kind of treated as disposable - In general, it needs to spend less time being a prequel, and more time being its own thing - "What if Starfleet ran into the Xenomorphs from Alien?" "Well, they'd probably kill them." "Okay, let's spend several episodes on this."

[wen-kexing-apologist]

LOSING MY MIND OVER UNKNOWN EPISODE 8

Another week, another incredible episode of Unknown, another shout into the ether that they do not fuck this up for me in the final four episodes. Chris and Kurt are so good together as scene partners, but I am definitely dubbing Episode 8, The Chris Episode because holy hell was Chris juggling so many different emotions from Qian throughout the entire episode in all its tense and awkward glory. 

I think I want to talk about eyes. Because I just recently rewatched Episode 6, and was losing it all over again at Qian’s complete refusal to make eye contact with Yuan from the moment Yuan says he’s suffering until he returns from the United States. Especially because in Episode 8, he barely makes eye contact with Yuan but for very different reasons. 

Bedroom 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Qian wakes up the morning after Yuan’s return to find Yuan sleeping at his side. Now, knowing that Yuan is really only pretending to be asleep, and that he will continue to terrorize Qian throughout the episode, Yuan has positioned himself in such a way that the very first thing Qian has the ability to see when he wakes up is Yuan’s face. In the initial moment of wakefulness, Qian uses this private, quiet moment to study Yuan’s face, after years. 

And similarly to the end of Episode 7, we look through Qian’s eyes via close up of Yuan’s face on screen only to hear Yuan say “seen enough?” Which is where we get a very good microexpression from Chris because Qian’s eyes go slightly wider, surprised that Yuan is a) actually awake and b) able to tell that he is Looking. But Qian does not look away. 

Yuan opens his eyes, and Qian shifts, lifting his head up slightly as if he’s dialed in…but he is only able to maintain eye contact with Yuan for (literally) 2 seconds, before snapping himself out of it and sitting upright to take himself out of physical line (or plane) with Yuan. But he immediately looks back down at Yuan looking very dazed and at least slightly confused, and from my perspective a lot of that is informed by the fact that Qian is having to adjust to Yuan being back home. But the longest Qian can bear to look at Yuan is approximately 5 seconds. 

gif by @thecasualfkfan

Qian, man of few words, tries to cut the thick silence with a caregiving question ‘are you hungry?” cut to the mirror where we see a reflection of only Qian, a jarring site because typically when Qian and Yuan are in the same room, they are framed together. “I’ll take you to the hotpot place,” and Yuan says nothing, so Qian tries to cut the tension again by saying he’ll message San Pang and Xiong. 

“No need for the trouble. We can eat at home.” Yuan replies, and it gives Qian pause. Years have passed since he last saw Yuan, Yuan is established in his adulthood, successful, independent, confident, and sure. Qian has not been coping well, and the easy relationship, the familiar dynamic that he once had with Yuan is gone, he has no idea how to exist around Yuan right now. Qian turns his head slowly, to look at Yuan once more, but Yuan is up and out the door, leaving Qian to just stare at the space he left behind for a moment. 

We get the second isolated framing of Qian in the mirror as his eyes move from the space by his bed where Yuan sat towards the door that Yuan just walked through. 

So what I love about this episode is that Yuan knows his feelings, and I think he has a pretty good understanding of where Qian’s feelings rest now that Qian has called him home. Yuan has a goal, Yuan knows what he wants, the distance has very much helped to calm the storm of feelings that Yuan was having a hard time keeping a handle on when he was younger. Qian on the other hand, has a few more crises to work through before he can feel grounded in his changing feelings for Yuan. Which is what I think we are watching him parse through right before the intro when his eyes follow Yuan out the door and then close accompanied by a deep intake of breath. A moment to process what just happened. 

This episode is very aptly titled The Distance Between Us and Love because Yuan is doing nothing but playing with distance. He is being petty, he is pushing buttons, he is- I would claim -essentially edging Qian by getting just close enough to inspire physiological responses in Qian without completely closing the distance. 

Dinner 

And that distance also includes a demonstration to Qian about how Yuan is capable of maintaining an emotional distance from him now that Yuan’s priorities have changed and he is no longer blindly, overwhelmingly devoted to Qian. And it’s funny in the show because it feels petty, because it is a little petty, but under the surface there is a lot of richness in understanding that Yuan’s position as an adoptee, as a traumatized child, as someone that was saved and probably felt the need to maintain his place, who didn’t have the same level of security in the household as Xiao Bao has had, Yuan has made Qian his number one priority for a significant part of his life, so much so that Qian has fallen right back in to the routine of anticipating being cared for by Yuan upon his return, but it is subject to change. To me, this entire episode reads like Yuan telling Qian “you have the choice not to engage in a relationship with me, but the emotional distance and deprioritization you are experiencing right now will be the new normal, can you bear that?” 

gif by @ueasking

Qian walks up to the table and sees a truly impressive layout of food in front of him, and he looks somewhat shocked between the food and Yuan, the food and Yuan. Yuan has always been a helpful person, he has been trying to ease Qian’s burdens his entire life, but he’s an adult now and thus his reciprocated care means actually being able to provide for and support Qian holistically. Yuan walks out of the kitchen with a hangover cure, and Chris performs an inspired bit of improv and reaches for the glass, because Qian has slipped back into a world where someone cares about him first. But like I said, Yuan isn’t acting that way right now. 

I love that Qian looks to his right to see if San Pang caught his #awkwardmoment and that is sustained throughout the dinner as Qian keeps stealing glances at Yuan, but looking away before he can have any silent interactions with Yuan at all. My favorite part of this scene is Yuan’s interaction with San Pang who is also absolutely awkward with Yuan. In this scene we get a massive dig from Yuan to both San Pang and Qian, and on the surface it’s petty but if you look in an additional layer, there is so much disrespect behind Yuan’s words. 

gif by @ueasking

“San Pang. Thank you. I’ve thought a lot during my time abroad. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have the chance to go to the US and get what I have now. I’m grateful to you. Thank you.”

It is important, in my mind, that the end of this statement is followed with a cut to Qian’s face and not San Pang’s because it wasn’t San Pang that sent Yuan to the US. He was the one who delivered the news for sure, but it was the money Qian had saved over the course of years that sent Yuan abroad. There is soooo much disrespect in this statement because Yuan is ignoring Qian’s contribution to his time abroad and he is telling San Pang, essentially, that anything that happens between Yuan and Qian moving forward is directly because of him. 

And now, a commercial break for the funniest scene in the show to date: 

Bedroom 2

Here we start with the hands :) Yuan enters Qian’s room and immediately moves behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Qian is mad about San Pang and Lili and he is fully not making eye contact with Yuan, barely even turns in his direction when he enters the room, puts as much distance between himself and Yuan as he can in his room. 

“Ge. Have you ever thought that we can’t accept changes because we’re too used to the way things were?”

gif by @ueasking

And we get Qian finally and slowly looking in Yuan’s general direction, Yuan moves to the bed, to Qian’s side and over the course of the conversation Qian looks towards Yuan about three more times, but he never turns completely, he never looks directly. Not even when Yuan calls him “Wei Qian” which was a brilliant fucking move on his part when he’s trying to drive home the point that the nature of people’s relationships to one another can change. Yuan leaves and the camera cuts to him leaving exiting Qian’s room and entering his own and a few seconds later, Qian opens his door, standing in the doorway in a similar fashion to how we saw him at the end of Episode 6 right after Yuan had left the house to go to the States. 

At the Computer

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

As time continues, and Qian has not verbalized his own feelings for Yuan, Yuan starts pushing him a little harder. At first there was distance, then touch, and now he is getting bolder, literally getting in Qian’s face when he isn’t paying attention so that Qian is forced to look on in surprise and he’s asking Qian a question with his face so close there is literally no where for Qian to turn to. And Qian responds not only by looking at him, but by scanning his face, eyes flitting down to Yuan’s lips two separate times. Yuan lets the moment hang long enough for Qian to show his uncertainty around what is about to happen (is Yuan going in for a kiss?) before he breaks the tension by asking Qian a business question. But he’s been successful in shaking Qian because Qian looks back at Yuan twice in ten seconds, while Yuan just continues to stare directly at Qian to prevent Qian from stealing glances. 

Being Fed

gif by @ueasking

We cut to probably my favorite scene of the episode with Yuan feeding Qian, mostly because Qian has no fucking idea what to do about it. Also because it has absolutely one of my favorite blocking moments when Qian reaches for the bowl in Yuan’s hand at the same time Yuan leans forward to feed him. I love this moment a) because the execution of the motion is so smooth and b) because of the concept of food as love. Qian here is trying to take the food from Yuan while Yuan is reaching out with the spoon to feed Qian his love. Qian takes the proffered bite apprehensively, and then rejects the continued action by taking the bowl from Yuan. 

And Yuan as he usually is, spends all his time staring straight at Qian, so that Qian is forced to catch his eye if and when he looks in Yuan’s general direction. Qian is really struggling with his feelings for Yuan this episode so he rushes to finish his food and get the fuck out of dodge. Between each bite he looks to Yuan for just a second before turning his head further and further to the side so as not to catch Yuan in his periphery. 

“They say if you like someone, even if you wear a mask you can see it in their eyes” Qian cannot look at Yuan, because Yuan is bleeding his feelings for Qian. Qian cannot look at Yuan because Qian is bleeding his feelings for Yuan. But unfortunately for Qian, it is not just his eyes that give him away. Because he has not reckoned with his new feelings, Qian is incapable of interacting with Yuan without being the most awkward motherfucker alive. Because Yuan is confident in what he wants and Qian is still having to adjust. Qian finishes the food and hands the empty bowl back to Yuan, and just as he is about to remove himself from the situation, Yuan scoops up the very last remnants of the meal and starts to feed it to Qian. 

gif by @coffeelover5eva

Qian for just a second jerks his head back, in the same way that he moved his head slightly backwards when he turned to find Yuan staring at him in his bedroom. Much in the same way that he will take a step back later when Yuan moves to fix his collar. But because Qian does have feelings for Yuan and is fighting a losing battle, that instinctual reaction to put some distance between them, to not be cared for, quickly makes way into a deflated submission as he lets Yuan feed him those last little morsels. Yuan walks away as Qian just sits in quiet, annoyed, resignation. Chris’ face throughout this entire scene is just absolutely hysterical.  

Yet another commercial break, because I am dying at Yuan being a menace

I do think it is worth noting that Qian’s reaction to this is very similar to his reaction to Yuan saying he liked him in that first attempt where he physically and emotionally disengages, gives him a little pat and tries to remove himself from the situation at hand. 

Car

gif by @ueasking

Absolutely the most normal and relaxed Qian has acted around Yuan for this entire episode is in the scene where Lili is bailing on the family trip and he and Yuan are discussing what to do next. Is that little hand stopping the trunk from opening all the way a little desperate? Yeah I think so. But holy shit is it the least tense Qian has been with Yuan in quite some time. 

That does not last long though because once they get in the car, Qian sits there expectantly, waiting for the charged sexual tension that would come with Yuan reaching over him to buckle his seat belt. I love this show for giving us the parallel fishing trips, because Yuan originally tried to pull the BL Seatbelt Staple years prior without complete success, Qian does not get the luxury of a second chance to get butterflies in his stomach having Yuan that close. It’s fucking brilliant to have had the buckle before, because it means the audience very clearly knows what Qian is thinking and expecting when he makes no move of his own to buckle up.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

What I love so much about this moment is that Qian has been trying to avoid these feelings time and time again since Yuan returned. And here we know he’s lost because for the first time in the entire episode he is waiting for Yuan to make a move. He wants Yuan to buckle him in. He can’t say it out loud, it’s embarrassing for him to have Yuan not buckle him in while having Yuan passively calling him out on his expectations. 

If Qian’s absolute inability to function with Yuan gone was not enough of an indication that Qian has lost this fight already, this is absolutely the point in which we know Yuan has won. Because after all the avoidance, those split seconds of jumping back, of adding distance, of trying to shorten the time the two of them are alone together, Qian doesn’t bail on the trip and Qian waits for Yuan to make a move. 

Fishing

First, it must be acknowledged that under the sunlight, Qian’s hair is very red. In other words. The boy has uke hair. 

“When did you get so good at fishing” Qian asks

“When I was abroad I used to go hiking and fishing by myself. I didn’t feel lonely when I imagined you were by my side,”  Yuan replies 

and Qian furrows his brow slightly because Qian did that too. Not the hiking-and-fishing part, but the curbing the loneliness by imagining-Yuan-was-there part. We can see it in Episode 7 when he smiles and toasts the air at his side with his beer can after Lili and San Pang leave for the Christmas market, and if you didn’t catch that moment the first time (I did not) we get it again in the flashback Qian has, remembering the brightness and the chaos of Lili and Yuan being in the house. 

“Ge, do you have something to say?”

“Zhiyuan, don’t keep your feelings for me anymore. Nothing will come of them” Yuan chuckles, which like…valid buddy, cause that is fucking hilarious. Not because Yuan doesn’t have feelings for Qian, but because something will definitely come of them. Because this is Qian’s last attempt at trying to maintain the status quo. Trying to be responsible and keep their feelings for each other at a non-romantic level. But it’s too late, Qian, you’re a goner. Qian looks at Yuan, but only in his peripheral vision, he dares not look at Yuan flat out at this point. 

“What makes you think I still have feelings for you?” Qian looks at Yuan immediately after he says that, and not just looks at his face, but down his body, and then out in to his own thoughts. 

“Ge, do you remember a long time ago you asked me what I would do if the person I liked got married?”

“You said you’d go crazy”

“My answer’s changed.” 

And with that Qian has the sharpest, fastest head turn we’ve seen from him all episode but for the first time in the entire episode, Yuan is not looking a Qian. He is giving Qian the space to look, to think. He tells Qian that he will be happy as long as the person that he likes is happy, and we immediately see this tension release itself from Qian’s forehead. Qian is looking pensive throughout the conversation, and his eyes only move once Yuan moves again that Qian’s eyes follow the motion of the lid. Yuan moves to sit on the container, which places Qian not only below him, but the camera angle shrinks Qian down so he appears even smaller than usual next to Yuan. 

Qian looks at Yuan when he sits down 

“Wei Qian. Don’t you like Wei Zhiyuan?” Yuan asks, and the moment his question finishes, Qian looks away, because Qian has been incapable of maintaining eye contact where any romantic feelings are involved, but he is actually thinking here. You can see that question weighing heavy on Qian’s mind. And he can’t just run away from it so he closes his eyes and looks away again. 

“If you do, is it only because we’re brothers?” and Qian’s jaw tenses considerably as he processes the question. You can see his lip move, you can see the twitching of his cheek as he clenches his teeth. But Yuan is done teasing Qian. Qian has become increasingly more obvious in his reactions to Yuan and now that Yuan has successfully riled Qian up over the past few days and they are alone where they had their first conversation about Yuan’s crush on an unknown boy. @romchat has already pointed out the reverse imagery for the parallel here but Yuan reaches out and clasps Qian’s cheek, the same way that Qian has done for Yuan countless times. 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

When Yuan’s hand first makes contact, Qian looks at it but keeps his eyes trained downward. But the second time that Yuan’s thumb slides gently across his cheek, Qian looks up, looks straight into Yuan’s eyes. He does not tense any further, he does not fight against it, he does not shy away from Yuan’s touch or Yuan’s gaze. (@respectthepetty has a very lovely little breakdown of this scene herself here)

“This thing about us, is it that you don’t want, or you don’t dare?” Yuan asks and we move back to a wide angle shot that closes out the episode with the little title card. But Chris doesn’t stop acting just because there isn’t a close up on his face, oh no. No. Instead Qian’s face relaxes eeeeeever so slightly, and you can see him swallow hard. This is not a question he wants to be faced with because we all know what the answer is, and the answer is that he does want, but doesn’t dare. And the second that his fear of losing Yuan for a second time becomes stronger than his fear of changing their relationship? Game over. 

This show is putting so many worms in my brain, I love it so much, and I am so looking forward to episode 9 where I get to see my boys being put through hell at the hands of the gang. Torture my boys! They don’t have enough angst!!

[hanlimz]

[midnight thoughts: jungwon + the sublime]

synopsis: after an arduous battle, jungwon isn't sure if he's going to make it, but he has to say something before he goes. pairing: yang jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: spiderwon!au, angst with happy ending / mentions of blood, discussions of death, overall angsty themes but no one actually dies!, lots of confessions of love, and weird inclusion of "the sublime" bc we talked abt it in my eng class, also NOT proofread :,) wc: ~2.4k (haha OOPS) a/n: heyyyy how yall doin :))))) this has been sitting in my drafts forEVER ... and i finished it at 1am b4 my first day of school so be warned for inconsistencies / i liked the first half of this drabble but the second half is not my fave ,, so sorry that i couldn't do you justice spiderwon

yang jungwon never believed in the concept of the sublime. that uncanny mixture of overwhelming fear and unsettling fascination never managed to make an impression on him. especially in his line of work, jungwon is firm in his notion of death: when the time comes, a vast blackness will consume him; the void will leech away his life, and he will cease to exist. there will be no theatrics, no white light, no booming voice or angel song—only a comforting emptiness welcoming him into the dark.

now, however, jungwon lies alone in a familiar back alley; the tips of his fingers are numb from the amount of blood he's lost, and he can hardly lift his head up from the brick wall it's resting on. the palms of his hands are stained a deep crimson as he attempts to stop the river of red spilling from his thigh. jungwon admires the eerily beautiful way in which the body lets go; glinting in the dim street lights, his wounds glitter like rubies in a summer sunset. at this point, succumbing to his injuries seems inevitable, and jungwon thinks there may be some truth to be found in sublimity.

but, he's not ready to die. not yet—not with so many things left undone, so many things left unsaid.

with the little strength he has left, jungwon reaches for his backpack hidden in the nook behind the dumpster. he pulls out his phone and dials a number number he knows by heart; his cold fingers fumble over the screen, and he curses his current lack of dexterity. eventually, though, the machine begins to ring. the sound grates on his ears as he waits with bated breath for you to pick up.

"hello?" you croak, your question laden with sleep, "who is it?"

a breathy chuckle escapes jungwon's lips. he had forgotten how late it was, how you mentioned earlier that you had a calulus exam tomorrow, and just how gorgeous you sounded when you were tired. "sorry, [y/n] ... didn't mean to wake you," jungwon sighs, "just wanted to hear your voice."

"won, seriously?" you scoff, "this couldn't have waited 'til tomorrow? i mean, it's—it's two in the morning ... i was literally just dreaming about acing that calc test."

a dopey grin fastens itself to jungwon's lips as he wills his eyes to stay open. if he falls asleep, he knows there's a possibility that he won't get back up; so, he indulges for a bit, listening to your fatigued grumbling and smiling like an idiot. "honestly, m'not sure if tomorrow's in my cards, [y/n]," he admits, trying to hide how labored his breaths are becoming, "'nd i jus' wanted to hear you one last time."

"yang jungwon, what the hell are you—" jungwon knows exactly when you realize he's in trouble. he knows exactly when you realize he's not messing with you. the abrupt pause, the hitch in your breath, the way you inhale through your teeth—it's almost too obvious. "oh fuck," you continue, "oh shit ... won, where are you? are you hurt? what can i do to help?"

jungwon coughs out a laugh, "'m in the alley off jackson ave, 'nd i think i've bled on every piece of old furniture back here, if that says anything."

your breathing is frantic. jungwon listens to the sound of rustling clothes and the occasional thud of your foot as it hits your bed frame. you're cursing and mumbling and unravelling at the seams, searching for whatever you can that might help you help jungwon. out loud, you go through a list: gauze, neosporin, saline.

"am i missing anything?" you ask, not expecting a response.

"bandages?" jungwon replies.

"bandages!" you exclaim, "i almost forgot the fucking bandages?" there's more noise on the other side of the phone, and jungwon doesn't let himself relax until he hears your window crack open. metal clangs as you rush down the fire escape; he wills the beating of his heart to match the tempo of your feet against the steps. jungwon wills himself to stay alive. and, it's almost as though you can read his mind through the phone. "don't you dare fall asleep, yang jungwon. talk to me about something—anything—just don't fall asleep."

he racks his brain for a topic of conversation; the nerves building in his stomach as he anticipates next week's orgo exam, the cat he rescued from a tree in queensbridge park earlier today, the new thai restaurant that opened up near his apartment building. options race through his mind, but all of jungwon's thoughts lead back to you.

"i love you," jungwon says, abrupt yet resolute.

"oh god." you suck in an incredulous gasp, "you're delirious. this is—"

"i'm not delirious," he interrupts, voice hauntingly clear. "i know what i'm saying. and, i'm saying that i love you, [y/n] [l/n]."

for a moment, the line crackles with a thick, viscous silence that seeps through the grainy static; it's heavy, almost too real, and jungwon listens to the sound of your shoes slamming against the pavement until you speak again. "okay," you sigh, something unreadable swimming behind your words, "keep talking to me, jungwon."

jungwon takes in a deep breath before speaking again. his whole body is cold now, and if it weren't for the weakness spreading throughout his veins, he's positive his teeth would be chattering. inhaling the concoction of gasoline fumes, freshly dumped trash, and frigid, autumn air, jungwon feels the chill of the reaper creeping up the length of his spine. its spindly fingers beckon him into that same darkness he was once so sure of, once so okay with. but, jungwon can't let himself give in to its temptation. after all, he has someone waiting for him.

"you give me this feeling," jungwon declares in an inexplicable moment of lucidity, "'nd i dunno how to explain it. it's—it's like ... i look at you, and you pull me in. an invisible string, maybe? fate? true love? i'm—i have no idea what to call it. you always make me want to know more, even though i've known you forever. since we were kids, [y/n]—i've felt like this for years. and, i'm sorry. i'm sorry for not telling you earlier, for not telling you when i told you about the whole spiderman thing.

"i'm such an idiot for making you worry. someone who loves you shouldn't do that to you, i shouldn't do that to you. and, god [y/n]—i love you so much. you're this force of nature, you know? drawing me in, even though it's dangerous. and, even though i'm terrified of what the consequences might be, i love you so much that i'm afraid to die without saying it at least once.

"i'm—i'm so sorry for being so stupid, because—" jungwon whispers with a shaky voice, teetering on the edge of consciousness, "i love you, [y/n]. i love you."

jungwon's hearing is fading in and out, and his vision is growing blurry; but, the sounds of your footsteps accompanied by the incessant drone of his phone keeps him from slipping into that overwhelming darkness. you take in a sharp breath, and his head lolls in your direction. jungwon's lips are molded into a mindless, faraway smile; his eyes are misted over, foggy with both pain and fatigue. he's not all there, but he still manages to be cheerful. it astounds you.

rushing over to begin applying all the first aid supplies you managed to stuff into your backpack. wound-wash, gauze, bandage, wound-wash, gauze, bandage, wound-wash gauze bandage, wound-washgauzebandage. the sheer amount of blood that has been leeched from his body makes you dizzy; your head is spinning as you try to calculate just how many pints would be equal to what you've just sopped up. glancing up at your best friend (crush? lover?) you see that his eyes have drooped shut. his skin is pallid, his lips are pale, his neck is craned at an awkward angle as it rests on his shoulder. and, your heart stops because you didn't get to say it back.

"no. no, no, no ... won—jungwon, wake up!" a storm brews in your stomach. it starts as a mellow rain pattering against the lining of your intestines, then becomes a raging tempest as it bubbles up and out of your throat. "please, please, please! i got here in time, i swear—i never cared about the stupid, fucking calc test! i cared about you, i care about you! and, i'm here now, so you can't leave. you can't leave me."

an inhuman shriek claws through your lips, ricocheting against the brick walls that seem to be caving in around you; the weight of the world crashes into your frail shoulders, threatening to crush you. as you inch even closer to jungwon's shrouded figure, your pants are soaked through with a crude mixture of blood and rainwater. you reach out for him and cup his cheek with a trembling hand, and part of you swears his skin is still warm to the touch.

but, hope has no place here.

instead, you cradle his head and heave his body to rest against yours. he is astonishingly heavy; you can feel his muscles ripple beneath the tips of your fingers, but you're already convinced. your best friend is dead. slowly, the cement will absorb his heat, and he will grow cold. as the morning draws nigh, you will be forced to put his mask back on and leave him for someone else to find. then, the news articles will pour in, and the city will have stolen not only his life, but his death as well. tears are wetting his scalp as you bury your nose into his sweat-caked hair. you're gripping at his suit so hard you think the threads might snap, and the throbbing in your head is nothing compared to the agony in your heart.

the wailing doesn't stop until, in your peripherals, you see his finger twitch. sucking a staggering breath through his nose, jungwon cracks open a tired eye to gaze up at you. "i would—" he coughs out with a wince, "i would never leave you."

in your stupor, his voice doesn't register first. his mouth moves, but no sound escapes him; then, the words play over again in your mind while his lips remain closed. seconds melt into minutes, and you float away from your body. a numbness overtakes you as you stare at the scene before you from about five feet away; your fingers are still clutching at the suit fibers, the pajamas you chose earlier tonight are now saturated with blood, and jungwon is breathing. jungwon is breathing. jungwon is breathing.

snapping back into yourself, you place a weak hand on his chest. steadily, certainly—it rises and falls; the beating of his heart, though shallow and slow, thrums beneath your palm. shifting your stare to his face, you are greeted once again by a familiar, wry smile. jungwon is alive. despite all odds, the boy you love is alive; and, try as you might, you can't really help yourself.

"[y/n]?" he croaks, quirking the eyebrow above his less swollen eye, "can you hear—"

"i love you, too."

the utterance dangles precariously in the frigid midnight air. jungwon's lack of response causes your stomach to churn until he relexes further into your frame, huffing out a pained laugh. he lets himself rest for a moment, relishing in the warmth he manages to leech from your skin. "it wasn't ... wasn't supp—supposed to happen like this, you know?" jungwon protests, voice catching on his fatigue and discomfort. "i ... had everything planned—planned out."

"won, you don't—"

baring his teeth, he lifts a hand to hold the one you kept on his chest and barrels through your objection. "i was gonna take you to the met ... gonna take you for a pic—a picnic in central park." jungwon sputters, pressing his forehead against your upper arm, "then, we would swing ... back to your apartment. 'nd, i was gonna tell—tell you. tell you about how i feel."

still supporting his neck with your arm, you move to take his face in your palm once more. jungwon's gaze is sharper than it was just minutes ago—more focused, more alert. the emotions swirling in those deep pools of raw umber are more multitudinous than the stars they reflect. gratitude, torment, joy, defeat, love. bridging the gap that had separated the two of you for so long, you stop just shy of his lips. a dynamic heat emanates from them; jungwon is practically vibrating under your touch, living and breathing.

"are you okay?" you ask, "is this okay?"

jungwon answers by pushing himself up—closing the distance, sharing your breath, connecting your souls. salt and iron dance on his tongue as your tears mingle with his blood. it's a hypnotizing concoction—one that threatens to send him reeling, one that threatens to have him spinning out with no hope of return. fireworks explode behind his eyelids, a myriad of bright reds and vibrant oranges blinds him, and jungwon uses what is left of his strength to grip your wrist; he grounds himself and allows his lungs to burn as he breathes you in.

after a while, however, your parting is instinctual as the lack of oxygen forces you apart—two bodies trying to preserve themselves long enough to meet again. with a labored sigh, jungwon slumps backwards and tucks his chin to catch your gaze. in that moment, he finds himself frozen; his essence is suspended motionless, positively bewitched by you. in the silence, where all he can sense is you, jungwon embraces the ever-present warmth that has flourished within him. it floods his being with a terrifyingly powerful adoration for you. it is nothing like he has ever felt before, and though he is brave enough to confess, this extent of his love for you—it scares him.

however, as your skin glows in the light of the moon and your eyes pool with the desire for a future with him, jungwon digs his feet in and roots your love deep within his heart. he refuses to let this fear grow in its place; instead, he vows to nurture it, to care for it, to protect it. as he lies in your arms, jungwon rejects the sublime once more and chooses for himself.

"i love you, [y/n]," he whispers into your palm.

the world seems to go quiet as it listens for your response.

"i love you, too, jungwon."

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

I Think Hypmic's Portrayal of Gender Roles is Kinda Refreshing: An Essay A.K.A. I'm Procrastinating on a Weekend Deadline :)

Hypmic's talking points on gender are hamfisted, corny, and melodramatic. "Maybe...we shouldn't have a wage gap," is not the hottest of takes. However, like most things in Hypmic, the writers have a lot more to say about gender and gender roles in the framing of the story itself that's much more nuanced. And honestly? It's kinda refreshing.

It's also something that went way over my head when I first became a Hypmic fan. Sure, I read manga and played Japanese video games--usually translated into English first--but I didn't have enough exposure to hundreds or thousands of pieces of untranslated Japanese media. I'm going to guess that most Hypmic fans don't either, which is totally fine and normal. We all exist within our respective cultural communities wherein we're bombarded with messages constantly telling us how to act, think, and speak. We tend to absorb these messages on subconscious levels and reflect them in the art we create and stories we tell, either by reinforcing them or challenging them. Thus, our stories don't exist in a vacuum, and divorcing stories from their cultural backgrounds can suggest the artist is the original thinker of a larger concept or hide their specific point of criticism. That is, if I wrote a story about a man who chooses to not catch fish, drink beer, and drive a Dodge Ram pick-up truck, we should be aware that I'm not the person who conceptualized the stereotype of dudes who catch fish, drink beer, and drive pick-ups. I wouldn't deserve the credit for dreaming up that exact image, and at the same time, it would be incorrect to read that as me targeting those three things randomly. The choice to not drive a Dodge Ram pick-up is not a commentary on Fiat Chrysler Automobiles. It's a stand-in for the notion of masculinity.

Thing is, we're hit with messages about masculinity, femininity, and other gender-related concepts on a daily basis. No matter where you live or what language you speak, every person on Earth is inundated with messages saying, "This is what you are, and consequently, this is how you should act." Our relation to these messages is complicated, and this complexity is compounded by different cultural communities preaching different messages in their stories, marketing, and human interactions. For instance, the US's massive global cultural influence means that those outside the US can still easily recognize what I mean by catching fish, drinking beer, and driving enormous American pick-up trucks. But the location and cultural differences may add or subtract nuances. A person living in, say, Munich is unlikely to have Dodge pick-ups advertised to them the way a person in rural Texas would. Our fictional Munich person does not feel the same social pressures to buy a Dodge and represent their masculinity with a Dodge the way our imaginary Texan would. In turn, the Munich person likely sees a Dodge with an element of absurdity--who the hell needs such a big truck in a European city?--and foreign Americanness. The Texan wouldn't have that concern--why worry about navigating your enormous truck down narrow streets when you live in the countryside?--and sees Americanness as their local default, thus removing any element of foreignness.

That is to say, gendered messages aimed at people (especially women) who live in Japan don't affect me the same way as they impact those who do live in Japan. Like, it's not my dog in the fight, and there are plenty of people who are directly affected who write their own stories and commentaries on gender roles in Japan. Japanese women don't need a random guy in the US to stand up and say, "Damn, your gender roles are fucked!" 1) They already know. 2) They're already saying it. So I come at this from an angle of someone who already has deep, primary frustration with the gendered messaging in my culture and secondary frustrations when similar messages appear in other cultures. I don't have a bone to pick with Japanese media in particular. Plain and simple, reading and working on hundreds of pieces of Japanese media is what I do for a living. It's in my face constantly, and as a result, I am also perpetually bombarded by messages about gender roles in Japanese media.

It's not a hot take to say that Japanese media, like the media of every single other culture around the globe, has a lot to say about gender. There's a lot of slotting people into boxes and telling people what to do. It's chafing, as we see all across history in art produced in reaction to gender roles. In the past couple of decades, global shifts in gender roles have caused media to shift the messages they're pushing, but it's not controversial to say that Japan has lagged behind other countries like the US.

Many, many stories push arbitrary notions of how to be a girl or how to be a boy that don't necessarily come from the author themselves. The authors probably aren't even fully conscious that they're making these choices. If an author writes a story about a library and makes every female character a romance fan and every male character an action fan, it's likely a reflection of endless messaging that says action is for boys, romance is for girls. In turn, this story becomes yet another reinforcing message. If no fictional girls like action, and no fictional boys like romance, it becomes alienating for real girls and boys who don't follow these same rules. These rules are everywhere and have so much to say about gender that it's hard to know where to begin. Girls must like cute things. Boys can't like sweet food. Women must not express sexual desire. Men can't be shy. On and on and on.

Which is why, when there's a relative lack of this in Hypmic, it's kind of a breath of fresh air.

Wrong Ways to Be a Man

Actually, Hypmic does have a few moments where characters claim there are certain things men or women should do, but the writing always frames these messages as incorrect.

Take Samatoki, for instance. After Kuukou and Sasara leave MCD, Samatoki tells Ichirou, "Men shouldn't cry when they lose their friends. Men should only cry when they lose a family member."

(TDD chapter 10)

This line usually appears via Ichirou's perspective. In the stage play, it's told during a song Ichirou narrates, and as shown above in panel 3, the manga frames the line from the angle at which Ichirou sees it. In such moments, the audience is meant to read this as a cool line from a strong mentor figure to Ichirou. That's how Ichirou sees it, and he's a seventeen-year-old with too much on his shoulders who idolizes Samatoki. He is incapable of seeing how much pain Samatoki struggles with.

However, when the manga focuses on more intimate moments of Samatoki's life, we see that Samatoki does struggle quite a lot.

(BB/MTC+ chapter 6)

This isn't a cool, attractive figure meant to be idolized. While Samatoki's cigarette usage and aggressiveness are often framed as sexy or enticing, the juxtaposition with dirty laundry, overflowing ashtrays, and empty bottles make him a sympathetic and struggling figure. Therefore, we should understand that his notion that men don't cry is flawed. It's a means to distract himself from emotions he doesn't want to feel.

Later, as Samatoki begins to process his emotions and open up to his teammates, the unhealthy coping mechanisms recede. Samatoki is more confident, mature, and happier as a result of being more emotionally vulnerable.

We see a similar transformation with Kuukou. As a teen, Kuukou is reluctant to accept help or truly let anyone in. In a conversation with Hitoya, he says (and I am still completely unable to take this seriously), "A man's got to wipe his own ass."

(DH/BAT chapter 4)

However, over the course of his character arc, Kuukou learns that he cannot exist as a good leader or individual without the teamwork of his newfound "family." Only rejecting this classical and toxic notion of masculinity brings Kuukou joy.

In fact, most of the first-line characters have very similar arcs. At the start of the story, Ichirou is insistent on doing everything himself. He has to learn to be able to rely on other people (Kuukou, Samatoki, Ichirou and Jirou) to be happier and unlock his true strength. See below, his final attack and Ability use in the 2nd DRB, which is only possible when his brothers figuratively and literally support him through it.

(BB/MTC+ chapter 25)

Sasara struggles with emotional honesty and trust in favor of using humor to gloss over discomfort. It takes multiple heart-to-hearts with Roshou before he can let humor take a backseat and say how he really feels. Ramuda has difficulty trusting other people and being honest with his emotions when faced with stressful scenarios. Only through Fling Posse is he able to open up and ask for help instead of driving people away when the problems are too big for him to face alone. Jakurai struggles to connect with other people, work through and acknowledge his complicated feelings, and not place himself on a pedestal. Through Matenrou, Jakurai is able to ask for help, be more open, and ultimately be less hard on himself.

The second- and third-line characters follow similar arcs, and this repetition creates a core message for Hypmic: Trust and rely other people. Be open with your feelings. There's a wrong way to be a man, and that's to hurt yourself and other people.

Right Ways to Be a Man...Are Infinite!

But with that being said, there is a surprising lack of commentary on how else to be a man. Hypmic as a whole doesn't do much to constrain the male characters in terms of gender roles.

Sure, some characters do fit into more traditionally masculine roles--Ichirou, Samatoki, Riou, etc. The messaging makes it clear that it isn't wrong to play into masculinity provided it doesn't become toxic. (See above.)

Even then, however, these especially masculine characters are associated with less masculine traits that are either portrayed positively or not portrayed as a joke. Riou is an avid cook, but the joke is never that he wears an apron and knows his way around an outdoor kitchen (tee-hee, men don't cook!). It's that he cooks with horrifying ingredients. Samatoki is a fashionista, but the joke is framed as a counterpart to Ichirou's nerdiness.

(DoD chapter 1)

Here, it's funny that neither of them can shut up (the ペラペラ/blah blah SFX, the long bubbles filled with lots of text that's cut to indicate they kept going for longer), but the object of their attention--a model toy and a pair of jeans--are treated in the same neutral light. It's very common for stories to touch on, even defensively, the social taboo of men being into clothes. Hypmic doesn't even acknowledge that such a taboo could exist.

This is subtle but extraordinarily effective in giving characters the same consideration and weight. The more feminine characters are always treated just as sincerely (or, if there's a joke to be made, irreverently) as the more masculine characters. Take Ramuda, for instance. In Japanese media, a love of sweets is often characterized as feminine and will often be remarked upon, even in LGBT+ media, as atypical for men. Again, there's zero acknowledgement of such a thing in Hypmic. Whenever other characters talk about Ramuda's food intake, it's always framed as a concern about the lack of nutrition.

(FP/M chapter 11... I don't have the source lying around on my computer, so here's the old-ass scanlation lol)

It's also given the exact same weight as anyone else's junk food habits. Here, MCD goes out for burgers (a neutral to masculine-coded food due to the meat and high calorie count) while Ramuda opts to try a sugary Starbucks-esque drink. The parallelism in the comic's framing suggests that the two objects are functionally the same, and there is no comment that a sugary drink is feminine and therefore "inappropriate" for Ramuda. There's also no indication that MCD's preferences are in any way better. They simply happen to be the characters' personal preferences. The punchline is two groups splitting up, only to awkwardly run into each other again moments later.

(DoD volume 4 bonus comic)

Similarly, Ramuda's interest in clothes or fashion is never treated negatively--in fact, the discussions of clothes as a means to find identity and happiness make it a positive!

In ARB cards and promotional materials, Ramuda sometimes wears dresses. It's, again, portrayed in parallel to other characters wearing more masculine clothes and is never commented on as something "unusual." It's just who Ramuda is.

Hifumi is another interesting case. Like Ramuda, his playful personality often doesn't as stereotypically masculine. (To be clear, I read much of this as "gender neutral with a strong emphasis on youth" versus "feminine" in a way that I'm not sure has a good US equivalent...metrosexual/yuppie men's fashion, maybe? In the sense that it's a youth subculture that defies some masculine gender roles but is still focused mainly on men. I wish I was more well-versed in Japanese men's fashion and could give an exact term, but I'm what I'm thinking of is definitely an established thing--young, trendy dudes whose styles focus on poppiness vs. the rugged manly man or "idk, I'm just some guy" subcultures. It's a thing that pisses off old Japanese conservative men in the same fashion as people getting up in arms about "the gayz!!!1!" and their androgynous clothing lol.) Their personalities are often the butt of jokes, but only in the same way that Dice or Doppo are--that is, that they're exaggerated and over the top. There's no commentary on masculinity or lack thereof.

There are also moments when Hifumi, Gentarou, or other characters play feminine characters in roleplay moments, which is usually (but not always) not the sole joke. The audience is supposed to find it funny, but the humor is almost always centered on the absurdity of the scene as a whole. For instance, in a moment where Hifumi and Doppo are pretending to be two drunk karaoke-goers, the humor comes from the composite set-up of Hifumi's hair twirl, Doppo's untucked shirt and tie, Doppo and Hifumi's exaggeratedly flirtatious poses, the spotlights and sparkles, and the same font as used on classic karaoke machines.

(FP/M+ September 2022 oneshot)

Hifumi and Doppo do not perform traditional gender roles in their homelife, and while it's easy to see and often commented on in the English-speaking fanbase when it comes to Hifumi, I find it just as prevalent on Doppo. It's true that Hifumi is taking a feminine role by doing the majority of the household's cooking and cleaning, but if we were to assume Doppo has the masculine role in the household, he would have the breadwinner duty. However, he isn't the main source of income for their household, and he's just as unassertive in finding a (female) romantic partner as Hifumi is. Japanese men are bombarded with media messages stressing the importance of taking an active role in career and romance. That Doppo does not would, in many stories, make him the butt of a joke for not living up to masculine gender roles. But he isn't; instead, Hypmic portrays him as a sympathetic character. It's tough, Hypmic says, for people to get good jobs and maintain friendships/relationships as an adult.

Similarly, it's noteworthy that Hifumi's self-appointed term "Gigolo" is consistently portrayed as a good thing in Hypmic. The meaning of the English term aside, the Japanese word ジゴロ (jigoro) is almost always used as an insult for a man who is financially dependent on one or multiple women. In the strictest sense of the term, Hifumi is a jigoro in that his income derives from his female clients. However, there is never any shame associated with that, and as a whole, Hifumi's career as a host is shown to be a positive thing. I can't express enough how rare that is in any sort of semi-serious media. Certainly, Hypmic acknowledges that his job requires too much drinking (Doppo's verse in Hoodstar), but the overall portrayal is overwhelmingly positive. Hifumi and his coworkers are never treated as uneducated, boorish, or pathetic for "failing" to find other work that does not require flirting with and entertaining women. (This is partially due to the overlapping judgment with sex work.)

All the various harmless preferences and personality traits of the male characters are treated equally with no judgement over what's masculine or non-masculine. Within the broader context of Japanese media, this absence of judgment stands out and reinforces one of Hypmic's core themes: Differences make us better, not worse. In the end, Hypmic suggests, there's no one right way to be a man.

Right Ways to Be a Woman...Are Just as Infinite!

But what about women? This series is, after all, marketed mainly towards women, and while female audience members can no doubt extrapolate the lessons learned from the male characters, it's worth taking a look at the female characters too.

The female characters do receive much less screen time than the men and are not the focus in the series; I'd argue that's less an issue of overt sexism and more that they fall out of focus in the story the writers want to tell. (There's a broader discussion to be had about inherent sexism in the writers' focus which goes hand-in-hand with rap industries across the globe favoring men and rap being an example of exaggerated masculinity, but that's a topic for another day.)

Even so, the framing of the female characters is interesting in a couple key respects. The individual character arcs and motivations of the main female characters are, in my opinion, some of the weakest parts of Hypmic--many times, Otome and Ichijiku do things because the plot demands them to, making them look incompetent or needlessly cruel for characters we're supposed to sympathize with. Nemu's story seems to be handled with more care and takes an interesting twist, wherein she openly acknowledges that she's disenfranchised as a woman in modern Japan but rejects the notion that she needs to find strength on either Ichirou or Samatoki's (male) terms. By choosing to be strong in "her own way" (whatever that means...it's not well-defined), the authors are using Nemu to reject the notion that strength and power are inherently masculine.

What I find to be far more interesting is the character design for the Chuuouku women, both in what is said and what is not said.

To begin with, the characters and their portrayals run the gambit from highly sexualized to completely non-sexual. Some characters (especially Ichijku and Honobono) have conventionally attractive, curvy body types and are often drawn in ways that highlight their bodies.

(FP/M+ chapter 4)

(FP/M+ chapter 14)

In some cases, especially Honobono's, the enticing nature of the illustrations is framed as the character's choice; in the above, her words indicate that she wants to seduce the off-screen listeners. The images included above are largely representative of these characters' raps, regardless of illustrator.

But on the flip side, other characters with large breasts or hips are never drawn in a sexual fashion. By way of comparison, here are two shots of Nemu rapping.

(BB/MTC+ chapter 12)

Even in shots with dynamic poses, no attention is drawn to Nemu's figure in any sort of provocative sense. Nemu touches her chest, drawing the reader's eye there, but the artist does not emphasize the size of her chest--they're allowing a chest touch to be no more than an emphasis of the self. At the same time, Nemu's body isn't downplayed. We can see in panel 2 on page 2 that Nemu has a small waist and wider hips, but once again, she isn't being sexualized. The action lines draw the reader's eye to Samatoki and thus put the action first and foremost. This creates the idea that not only can characters portray themselves sexually, but they can just as easily choose not to.

We see similar with Otome, who does not wear any sort of revealing clothing and is never shown in a sexual fashion. However, Hypmic doesn't equate revealing clothing to sexual portrayals either! While I wouldn't call Tsumabira's outfit revealing, she does have more visible cleavage than most Chuuouku figures. However, her bare chest is never sexualized like Ichijiku's.

(BB/MTC+ chapter 4)

Compare the non-emphasis on the chest and the power stance to any of the many shots of Ichijuku where her breasts are front and center in the camera. Speaking of power stance, Tsumabira remains confident in her power stance without being sexy--that is, no stepping on the camera and showing her whole leg.

Which isn't to say that Tsumabira is a sexless character. She's drawn visibly turned on by the male characters in such a way that is cartoonish but not, in turn, overly sexual. Were this supposed to be titillating to the reader, I would have expected to see a larger close-up on her face and tongue. However, the artist (who is no stranger to focusing on tongues!) devotes the majority of the panel to Tsumabira's body language (which, again, doesn't absurdly exaggerate any of her proportions or focus on her chest) and covers part of the mouth with text bubbles. Tsumabira is drawn as engaging in sexual behavior without being sexualized for reader entertainment.

(FP/M+ chapter 4)

The juxtaposition of such different views with little to no judgement attached to any of them suggests that it's perfectly okay to want to be sexy or not, to wear revealing clothing or not, to be involved in sexual situations without being the object of sexual interest, or to simply exist with an attractive body type without sex ever coming into the equation. Just as some characters choose to tie bodies to sexiness, some don't whatsoever--and either is perfectly fine!

The former idea ("I can choose to be sexy") may not sound especially revolutionary to US audiences, where sexuality is thrust upon women willingly or otherwise, but I find it fascinating because it lets the main characters embrace this idea without associated slut shaming. So much of Japanese media insists that women should be sexy but are also wrong for wanting to indulge in their own sexuality. Therefore, having characters who run virtually every iteration of take on the topic (I want to engage in sexuality and be sexualized, I want to engage in sexuality without being sexualized, I don't want to engage in either) with multiple body types (ie, Tsumabira isn't automatically not sexualized because she has a smaller chest; Nemu isn't automatically sexualized because she has a bigger chest) and no judgement involved feels like another breath of fresh air to me.

As a whole, I find the diversity of the Chuuouku uniforms and character appearances quite interesting. They're undeniably all feminine and relatively militaristic, but different characters wear entirely different wardrobes. Skirts vs pants, blouses vs dresses, high heels vs boots... Since every character has her own take on the common theme, it once again feeds into the idea that each character is her own individual and perfectly valid for defining femininity in her own way.

Haircuts, too, range from longer and more feminine hairstyles to pixie cut-esque looks.

(BB/MTC+ chapter 16)

Again, nothing of the framing suggests this short-haired woman is in any way different from her longer-haired counterparts on the edges of this screenshot.

Finally, while most Chuuouku women are conventionally attractive, I find it extremely compelling that Haebaru is a stereotype of an unattractive Japanese woman. To be extremely clear, I do not think these stereotypes should have weight, but the combination of chubby and/or muscular build, freckles, rounded nose, and non-glossy hair is often used as a visual shorthand for unattractive or otherwise undesirable women.

Sure, it's not fantastic that Haebaru is a scheming, two-bit villain. However, so is virtually every other female character in the series, and in particular, Haebaru is (the conventionally attractive) Tsumabira's counterpart. Both are treated with the same respect or lack thereof, suggesting that one's appearance has nothing to do with your ability to be a no-good baddie. Ha ha ha.

It would be lovely if the female characters were fleshed out further and given intelligent choices and diversity outside of the realms of physical appearance. However, I do think the writers' choices are limited by virtue of all women automatically being antagonistic side characters (which, again, is another discussion altogether). What the writers can and have accomplished is further reinforcing a celebration of differences. Just as there's no one right way to be a man, there's an infinite number of ways to be a scheming snake of a woman HAHA.

Intersection with LGBT+ Topics

Unfortunately, this is a very binary look at gender and gender roles, which, while largely representative of the current state of Japanese media, can be disappointing.

Hypmic appears to want to steer shy of LGBT+ topics as a whole, which is a bit of a shame. In a story so focused on gender and acceptance of diversity, it seems the natural next step to explore the notion of those who experiences don't align with a strict gender binary. Such stories are growing in popularity in Japanese media but have yet to be anywhere near the mainstream acceptance in US media (which is still in a fledgling stage at best). I would imagine Hypmic's writers are unable or unwilling to take a definite stance on these topics in the work due to fears of financial or career backlash. If nothing else, the sexuality of the main characters needs to remain in a limbo in order to have plausible deniability for both self-shipping and shipping with other characters. (Some deniability may be more plausible than others.)

The few instances in which Hypmic does wander into this territory are usually clumsy. I am no fan of the handful of scenes where male/male attraction is supposed to be funny purely by virtue of being male/male.

The inclusion of Urumi, the one minor character explicitly LGBT+, is not stellar either. I am hesitant to apply any definite label to her, as the real-life people her stereotype portrays self-identify as everything from trans women to cis men--or refuse to use these English labels at all! Still, we know from her profession (proprietor of a bar heavily implied to be a gay bar by the neighborhood it's in), appearance (poofy permed hair, exaggerated make-up), and demeanor (feminine speech style, a bit flirtatious) that she's AMAB and choosing to present herself in a feminine fashion. By writing Jirou to ask, "Aren't you a man?" in an exasperated fashion, the writers have put her gender presentation in a boke role--suggesting she's over-the-top, exaggerated, comedic. It's not great. I completely understand why readers find it offensive (and it is) even while I don't think the writers intended it that way. Ultimately, it would have been great to see other explicitly LGBT+ characters portrayed without the joking angle.

With that said, I'm not entirely unhappy with her character. She is a stereotype, but the authors have chosen to take only the visual elements of the stereotype and leave the rest on the cutting room floor. In other works of fiction, characters like Urumi are often hypersexual to the point of being in-universe creepy, especially towards underage boys. Other times, characters like her may be eccentric or off-putting in other ways. However, that's not at all the case here. Urumi seems to play a helpful big sister/aunt role in Jirou's life, and he's clearly comfortable enough with her to spend the night at her bar.

(BB/MTC+ chapter 17. "Sorry, but can I shack up here again tonight?" "Of course you can.")

While she seems to engage in some sort of a bohemian lifestyle, as evidenced by the alcohol and smoking, it isn't anything outside of what many of the other characters do. Additionally, while she isn't drawn in a flattering fashion in scenes where she's playing up her persona (which is par for the course with any character in this series, regardless of gender), there are plenty of neutral shots of her being serious. Finally, the art is never outright rude--that is, she isn't drawn exaggeratedly masculine or flamboyantly...snakey? I don't know how to describe this to anyone who's lucky enough to have never seen this--clearly LGBT+ AMAB characters drawn with noodly limbs and huge, overblown lips winding around male characters.

Maybe because I see so much worse continuing to be produced in this day and age, I feel like Hypmic could have done a much, much worse job with this character. She overall plays a positive role and is treated with much the same care as other side characters. It's unfortunate, then, that the writers have chosen to make her gender presentation the subject of a joke.

In other frustrations, I heavily dislike the unnecessary gender divide in background characters. All punks and other background baddies are male, whereas all adoring fans are female. (But Rhyme Anima has done an interesting job of subverting this!) The vast majority of other background figures fall into strict gender roles, which is likewise disappointing. It appears that diversity may be an accepted trait for none but a lucky few that form the main Hypmic cast.

All in all, I don't think Hypmic's portrayal of gender roles is groundbreaking, nor do I think it's fair to suggest that all Japanese pop culture plays into strict gender roles. There are certainly many Japanese works, popular or otherwise, with much more interesting things to say about gender. However, when compared to the vast majority of the titles that cross my desk on a regular basis, I notice and appreciate the level of care put in to Hypmic's commentary on gender roles. The work consistently reinforces the notion that it's okay to be your own individual, no matter how that plays into your gender, and I find that freeing. That's a message we could all do to hear more often, regardless of culture and language.

TL;DR: Oh no, my rapidly approaching deadline. :)

[avernusreject]

Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days. 

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes). 

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

[makeste]

Plus One For All

so guys. can we talk about how there’s somebody chilling out inside of Katsuki’s mind who’s not supposed to be there.

hello there Mister All Might Vestige sir. you should not exist, just FYI. you’re not some Nighteye-type plot hallucination. because if you were, you would not be appearing here as Cloud Might, a version of yourself whom Katsuki has never met and has no frame of reference for. ergo he did not imagine you. ergo you are, in fact, real.

which means Katsuki has One For All.

because that’s the only way he could have a Vestige -- which is indisputably what this is -- inside of him. he has OFA. so. where did he get it. how does he have it. and why is it only making its presence known now.

let’s discuss.

okay so I’m going to try and lay this all out as clearly as possible while also attempting to be as succinct as I can. but knowing me, I’m probably going to wind up sacrificing the latter in pursuit of the former. I’ll do my best though. here goes.

1. Heroes Rising is canon.

which is a fact we’ve recently been reminded of not once, but twice -- first with the appearance of Katsuma and Mahoro in chapter 405, and then in chapter 406 with the “Bakugou no Kacchan” callback. the timing of this almost certainly isn’t coincidental. Horikoshi wants this to be fresh in our minds.

mind you, it is extremely unusual for movies, even technically!canon ones, to actually be relevant to the plot. but BnHA may be one of the few exceptions. we’ve already seen movie 1 impact the series both with Star & Stripe’s backstory, and with Deku’s new gauntlets. so there’s precedent, and it’s something I am paying very close attention to.

2. Deku giving OFA to Bakugou is canon.

just in case anyone here hasn’t yet seen or been spoiled for Heroes Rising, that is in fact what happens in that film! so yeah, that certainly seems like an extremely relevant detail right about now.

3. we never found out why and how Deku got OFA back at the end of the movie.

okay so I was looking for a clip to link before we discuss this next part, but I unfortunately couldn’t find one that hadn’t been edited to avoid copyright issues, so you’ll just have to make do with this.

skip ahead to about 7:10 for the relevant part. for the purposes of this theory, we’re just going to ignore everything All Might says here, because tbh he has no fucking clue what’s actually going on and is just guessing wildly lol. however, I do want you to take note of one thing which will be important later. and that’s the fact that, when OFA “returns” to Deku’s body, it’s only his body which starts glowing, and notably not Kacchan’s. the latter just keeps lying there unglowingly. nothing to indicate any kind of transfer is actually happening between him and Deku, in other words.

moving on.

4. OFA and AFO are probably the same quirk.

as summarized here and here. which is relevant because if they are the same quirk, or close to it, then OFA can most likely do anything AFO can do. so file that away for later.

5. AFO was able to split his quirk and give it to Tomura while still keeping a piece of it for himself.

what’s more, he was able to do the same with Garaki/Ujiko’s quirk, and presumably other quirks as well. while it’s possible that this quirk duplication has nothing to do with AFO and is simply something Garaki was able to figure out using ~*~Science~*~, I think it’s more likely that the two of them used AFO’s quirk in some way to accomplish this feat. particularly since Tomura not only received AFO, but a bunch of its stored up quirkdata as well, such as the information stored in Ragdoll’s stolen Search quirk.

6. OFA responds to Deku’s feelings and desires.

or at least this is the case according to Banjou in chapter 213. recall this interesting conversation on how Deku first activated Blackwhip.

he was thinking that he wanted to capture Monoma, and so OFA obediently activated his “capture Monoma” quirk. despite him being unaware he even had said quirk. it responded to his need, even though he wasn’t consciously trying to activate anything.

now then, let’s revisit that scene in Heroes Rising one more time.

7. during the climax of Heroes Rising, Deku was NOT thinking, “I need to give OFA to Kacchan.”

here’s the scene one more time for reference. this time you’re gonna want to skip to about 3:57.

here’s where we are going to get extremely technical, because this scene right here is the key to everything. Deku’s lines in this scene are, and I quote: “a way we can protect [everyone]... there’s just one way...!” but he very notably does not specify exactly what that “one way” is.

until we get to this scene a minute or so later, which spells it out for us very clearly.

two One For Alls. as in, “with two One For Alls, we could win this battle and save everyone.”

that’s what he was thinking at the moment of the “transfer.” NOT, “give OFA to Kacchan.” but, “we need two One For Alls.”

which, I think, may have made all the difference.

8. OFA created a copy of itself to share with Kacchan, so that both of them could have OFA and use the two OFAs to defeat Nine.

let’s recap. OFA is AFO. AFO can clone itself. so it stands to reason that OFA can presumably clone itself as well. and that’s exactly what Deku wanted to do. make a second One For All.

he didn’t know that he could do that. but as previously established in the Blackwhip incident, OFA is more than capable of making its own executive decisions in key moments just like this in order to help him out.

which would mean that what we saw at the end of Heroes Rising was not OFA being transferred from Bakugou back over to Deku. it was actually just Deku’s OFA briefly self-activating (possibly in response to his delirious apology to All Might -- kind of a “no worries bro, you’ve still got your quirk actually, so go back to sleep and stop stressing over it” type of thing). and Kacchan’s OFA doing... absolutely nothing. it didn’t actually transfer back into Deku. it didn’t actually go anywhere.

let me repeat that: it didn’t actually go anywhere.

in other words, Kacchan still has OFA. and has had it ever since Heroes Rising. he just didn’t realize it. and neither did anybody else.

9. Kacchan’s OFA went dormant once Nine was defeated.

okay, so. remember all of this exposition from chapter 304?

basically, if someone who already has a quirk receives OFA, using it will slowly destroy their body until it kills them. the Vestiges learned this from All Might while he was researching the past generations of OFA in chapter 241, incidentally. Heroes Rising takes place right around this same time (immediately following MVA if I recall). so by the time the film’s climax rolled around, the Vestiges would have known that giving OFA to Kacchan could have devastating consequences down the line if they did not take action immediately after the fight.

so they did.

once Nine was defeated, the Vestiges shut the whole thing down. the crisis was averted, and they no longer had need of a second OFA. they have this boy who is way too similar to Deku in terms of his willingness to put himself in harm’s way in order to achieve his goals. and they absolutely do not want any harm befalling this boy. more on that momentarily.

so they go dark. and they even seal his memory so that he’s no longer aware of even having the quirk. they are essentially in sleep mode. and if circumstances hadn’t eventually become desperate enough to force their hand, they might have remained inactive for the rest of Katsuki’s life.

now, you might be wondering to yourself, “why is OFA willing to go to such unusual lengths in order to protect Katsuki?” and well, the answer to that is pretty simple.

10. Kacchan does not have the same version of OFA as Deku.

Deku is ninth gen. Katsuki, however, is tenth gen. which means that his version of OFA has one additional Vestige. a Vestige whose presence immediately explains why OFA is so goddamn determined to protect him at all costs.

:’)

long story short, while Deku’s version of OFA has proven itself all too willing to enable him in his increasingly suicidal mission, Katsuki’s version of OFA is very much a different story, on account of it being under the management of what I’m guessing is the most willful Vestige ever to exist. and said management being just the slightest bit unhinged when it comes to Katsuki’s safety in particular. seriously, you can’t tell me this is not exactly how a Deku!Vestige would behave. “oh hell no. no OFA for you!! and no memories either, because you can’t be trusted, goddammit. we never should have done this. what the hell were we thinking. if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

so yeah. dormant.

right up until they literally couldn’t afford to be anymore.

11. OFA can self-activate in moments of crisis to protect its user.

Sports Festival. chapter 33. Deku vs. Shinsou.

aw yeah. it’s all coming together.

12. OFA reactivated itself in order to save Katsuki’s life.

I would now like to briefly draw your attention to this scene from chapter 405, in which Edgeshot explains how Katsuki was finally saved. please note my man is very clear that he did not restart Katsuki’s heart himself. he was basically just performing quirk CPR up until Katsuki’s own quirk returned him to life apropros of nothing.

“what brought you back... was the power you’ve honed.”

except... that should have been impossible. because Katsuki was dead. meaning he should not have been able to activate his quirk on his own, on account of the whole “being dead” thing.

however, if he by chance had a quirk with just enough of a mind of its own to activate in critical situations in order to help its user. situations like being forced under mind control. or, perhaps, being stabbed through the heart. well then. that would certainly go a long way towards explaining all of this.

and oh hey, when exactly was it that we saw this guy, again?

oh? it happened at the exact moment when his heart was stabbed through? you don’t say. well that certainly is interesting.

in summary:

Deku cloned his quirk in Heroes Rising and gave Kacchan a copy of OFA. owing to the hyperprotective Deku!Vestige inside Kacchan’s copy of OFA, it shut itself down once Nine was defeated, and all of Katsuki’s memories of having OFA were deliberately wiped, or sealed away. OFA itself remained inactive until TomurAFO stabbed Katsuki through the heart, at which point OFA was forced to reactivate itself to save his life. which it did, by forcibly restarting his heart.

that’s it. no idea how close to the money any of this is, but I think it would explain most of the lingering mysteries and questions about what exactly is going on with Katsuki. and I’ll throw in one last observation as well -- Katsuki has a nine in his name (BaKUgou), but not a ten. which I know sort of contradicts what I was saying earlier about him being the tenth gen, lol. but he both is and isn’t. if Deku split his quirk, Kacchan would in theory receive everything that’s currently in Deku’s quirk right now, and that includes Deku’s own power that he’s been adding to the mix. so he’d still have the Deku!Vestige. but he’s also still ninth gen, because he and Deku are sharing that distinction now. or at least I think the argument could be made at any rate.

so yeah. I’ve been obsessing over all of this for the past few days lol. what do you guys think?

[jaeyunverse]

cat boy

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

wc: 1882

genres: some fluff, mostly crack, enemies to lovers, neighbours au

warnings: profanity

summary: yang jungwon is pissed his cat likes you more than him. or, in which jungwon’s cat plays cupid and sets you up.

note: this is extremely unserious!!!! i only wrote it for funsies but i enjoyed the process a lot :) i hope the fic manages to bring a smile on your face hehe

masterlist

There was an angry-looking Yang Jungwon standing at your door.

You didn’t know why he was so pissed. You just knew you didn’t care.

“Your incessant knocking woke me up,” you replied dryly and leaned against the door frame, arms crossing over your chest. “You better have a good reason for ruining my sleep.”

“It’s five in the evening.”

“What’s your point?”

Jungwon’s jaw clenched, and the corner of your lip curled up a smirk. Provoking him was always so satisfying. Always so easy and entertaining.

It was crazy how he was the sweetest person with everyone else but the moment you opened your mouth, he glared at you and looked like he was plotting your death. The discrimination and harsh treatment you’d received from the boy upon moving into your apartment had hurt at first, but you’d soon learnt to take it with a grain of salt.

You’d learnt that it was way more fun to push his buttons and see just how far you needed to take things for him to reach his breaking point.

“Just shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Jungwon snapped, pointing an accusing finger at you. “I need you to stop playing with my cat. Do not touch her. Do not call her name. Do not do the weird fucking meowing thing you do where she meows back at you and you have those god awful meowing conversations. Do not—”

“Oh, yeah,” you interrupted and pretended to deeply think about something. “I think it was just yesterday that Cleo told me you were popping a vein over her liking me more than you. I must say, Yang, you have reached a level of pathetic I didn’t even know existed. Yelling at your neighbour because you don’t get validation from your cat? Tsk.”

Embarrassment and anger coloured the entirety of Jungwon’s face a deep red. “You don’t get it!” he exclaimed. “Cleo keeps clawing at the front door! She doesn’t even want to stay with me anymore. She stares at me with so much resentment because I don’t let her play with you all the time!”

“I’m confused,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you let her play with me if that’s why she hates you? Your problem has a very simple solution—”

“But she’s my cat!” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He stepped closer to you, desperation evident on his features. “I don’t care if she plays with you, but the more she does, the more she realises that she’d rather have you take care of her.”

“Well,” you sputtered, a little taken aback by how much his cat’s preferences had distraught him. “If it’s any consolation to you, I don’t have the time or resources to look after Cleo, so she has no choice but to stay with you.”

“I don’t know how to make her love me again,” Jungwon mumbled to himself, not having heard you at all. “I know cats aren’t very loyal, but I didn’t think Cleo would dump me after everything we’ve gone through. I pay the landlord more money so she can keep staying with me without having to hide from anyone. I fought—”

“Yang!” you yelled and grabbed his shoulders. He snapped out of his reverie and looked at you in despair. You’d never thought you would feel bad for him, but you found yourself offering, “Do you want me to show you how I play with her? I don’t know why she prefers me over you, but maybe I’m doing something you aren’t. Maybe you’ll know what it is if we play with her together.”

Jungwon nodded eagerly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Now?” you asked incredulously. “I have to meet a friend for dinner.”

“Please,” he begged, and you didn’t think you’d ever heard him sound so hopeless before. “Just for ten minutes.”

You hesitated a bit for a moment, but then reluctantly agreed. “Ten minutes.”

Jungwon watched in awe as you interacted with Cleo. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his ginger Ragamuffin so excited.

“Hey, Cleo,” you cooed, cupping her face in your hands. “How are you doing? How’s the most precious girl in the world doing?”

Cleo purred and leaned into your touch. Smiling, you caressed her cheeks and kissed her nose.

Gathering her in your arms, you stood up. The cat rested her head on your shoulder and closed her eyes.

“I really don’t see Cleo hating anyone,” you said to Jungwon, a small frown settling on your features. “I mean, look at her.”

He sighed and padded towards you, stopping only when he was right beside. His arm brushed against yours. “I don’t get it either.”

And then, as if to prove to you that he wasn’t lying about his cat having something against him, Jungwon lightly petted her.

Cleo’s eyes snapped open and her nails popped out. She pawed at him and he withdrew his hand immediately.

“Oh.”

“I don’t understand why she’s acting this way,” he lamented. “She was good to me until you came along!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Are you seriously saying this is my fault? Did you even consider the possibility of you being a horrible owner?”

“You did not just say that!” Jungwon looked extremely offended, but you didn’t give a shit. You couldn’t believe he was blaming you for his problems.

“I don’t even need to say anything,” you sneered. “Cleo running away from you to me speaks volumes.”

You saw your neighbour’s jaw clench. His hands curled into fists at his side, and you wondered if you’d gone too far. You know he loved his cat; insinuating that he wasn’t taking good care of her probably hurt.

Besides, you knew it wasn’t true. Jungwon was a huge animal enthusiast. He’d looked after a turtle when he was five and had decided then and there that a career surrounded by animals was what he wanted. He was studying to be a veterinary doctor now.

Before you could open your mouth to apologise, he muttered, “I should have known this was a bad idea.”

Your blood boiled once again. “You really do have a knack for being the most ungrateful asshole anyone could ever come across, Yang.”

In your arms, Cleo meowed and lifted her head from your shoulder, staring daggers at her owner.

“Ungrateful?” Jungwon snorted in disbelief, not noticing the glares the Ragamuffin was sending his way. “You haven’t done anything since you came here! I don’t have shit to be grateful for.”

Cleo growled, and the boy finally acknowledged her anger.

You pointed a finger at Jungwon and fumed, “I take back what I said before. I do see Cleo hating you. You’re a little bitch who—”

“Oh, spare me.” He cut you off with a roll of his eyes, but you paid him no heed and continued,

“Maybe she’d like you better if you liked me better!”

The cat meowed again. The message was very clear. She agreed.

“I do like you...” Jungwon said defensively, but it was a pathetic attempt that convinced no one. Especially not Cleo.

“Yeah, sure.” You let out a humourless laugh. “You’ve obviously been a jerk to me from the very start because you think you’re the unapproachable, dark-haired, broody lead and I’m the sunshine who is supposed to make you open up.”

He gave you a sour look. “You’re not the sunshine.”

“And you’re not the main character you think you are. I’m not going to put up with your attitude anymore. Just stop being a dick and tell me what you have against me.”

Jungwon hesitated for a moment. You watched as he contemplated whether or not to tell you the real reason behind his grudge, and with each passing second, you slowly started to get a good idea of why.

You knew it was going to be something stupid.

He proved you right.

“I was trying to rent the apartment you’re living in. It has a better view and is way bigger. I live with a cat and you live alone—I thought it was unfair that the landlord chose someone who doesn’t even need the space.”

You were speechless for a while. You took your sweet time to wrap your head around the fact that Yang Jungwon was one petty son of a bitch.

“That’s it?” you finally asked. “You hate me because I snagged the apartment you wanted fair and square?”

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t need to.

You exclaimed, “Grow the hell up, Yang! So what if I got it? It’s been six months; move on!”

“You don’t need it as much as I do!” he protested.

“You don’t know that!” you said angrily. “You don’t know me! You never tried to.”

Jungwon opened his mouth to retort, but he didn’t really know what to say. He knew he was the one at fault. Maybe he should have apologised.

Too bad his stubbornness wouldn’t let him go down without a fight.

“It’s not like you ever tried to get to know me either,” Jungwon muttered.

“I brought you home-baked cookies the day I moved in. You said you didn’t want them and shut the door in my face. I invited you to my house-warming party too, but neither did you reply to my email nor show up. You really think I didn’t try to get to know you? To be friends with you?”

Your voice was laced with bitterness, but there were traces of genuine sorrow in it as well. The fire in your eyes from your bickering had winked out and you looked tired.

The boy found his resolve crumbling. Shame and guilt began to build claw at him from the inside. Maybe he had been unnecessarily harsh.

“I—uh..” Jungwon tried, “I’m sorry.”

You raised your eyebrows. “For being so rude to you, I mean, ” he added hastily. “You didn’t deserve it.”

The apology could have been way better but you weren’t going to complain. “Okay.”

Setting Cleo on the floor again, you moved towards the front door of his apartment. “I’ll get going.”

However, before you could turn the knob, Jungwon blurted, “Are—are you free now? Maybe we can hang out and get to know each other?”

“Oh.” You were dumbfounded. Out of all the things you expected him to say, this was not it. “I have to meet a friend tonight. I told you.”

Embarrassment tinted his ears a deep red. “Right,” he squeaked after clearing his throat. “Forget I asked.”

“Well—” you started after a beat of awkward silence— “I won’t be out for that long. Do you wanna come over to watch a movie later?”

“I have to get up early tomorrow.”

You decided that this was clearly not working out—but it wasn’t that bad. So what if Jungwon and you couldn’t hang out? You were on good terms now. That was an immense improvement in your relationship already.

Your neighbour, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood to cut his losses and move on. He tried again, “The weekend?”

You paused. Racked your brain to make sure you didn’t have any other commitments. “The weekend.”

“It’s a date.”

Strangely, you didn’t correct Jungwon. He didn’t take his words back either.

Cleo’s tail swayed in silent approval.

[tootiecakes234]

Warnings: cheating Katsuki (not on you tho, but with you, eventual smut next part)

Bakugo’s POV

I hate her. I hate her, yet she’s always around. She’s raccoon eyes’ best friend so that means she at every party, every hang out, and every sleepover. I can’t fucking escape her.

She’s so goddamn annoying. Always starting up conversations with me about shit I don’t care about. She laughs at the shit I say, but I’m not being funny, I’m being deadass serious. And don’t get me started on the way she laughs. She does it with her entire body and it’s loud too. Pisses me off so bad.

She’s a problem for me because the more I hang out with her, the more I can’t stop thinking about her.

I have a girlfriend. A great fucking girlfriend. She’s sweet, too sweet to be dating me, and kind. Probably the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met, so explain to me why when I’m with her and I’m thinking about Y/N. She’s literally invading my waking thoughts as well as my dreams.

I’ve tried distancing myself from her and being more of a jackass hoping she’d get fed up and just leave me the hell alone but nothing works and I’m running out of options.

We were having a movie night at Kaminari’s apartment tonight. I was in the kitchen cooking dinner, by myself, the way I prefer it.

“Heeey. How’s it going Kit Kat”, she was all cheeks and smiles

“I told you to stop fucking calling me that you idiot.”

“But it’s the cutest nickname I can think of. You have any other suggestions??”, she looked at me like she was being serious.

I turned to her, giving her my full attention so she knew I was being serious, “Bakugo. You can call me Bakugo like everybody else.

“Your friends don’t call you Bakugo, they all call you Katsuki.”, the insane woman still had a warm smile sitting on her lips. There was also a really shiny lipgloss on them too. Did it have sparkles in it? Why did her lips look so-

“Hello?? Are you ok?” She started walking towards me.

“I’m fucking fine. I’d be better if you got the hell outta here.”, why the hell was she even in here. “ and yea my friends call me Katsuki, you’re not MY friend. You’re Mina’s friend. Speaking of which don’t you need to get back to her.” The last part came out more grumbled than firm the way I meant it to.

“No, she’s flirting with Eiji rn and I don’t wanna be a third wheel. Well I guess a fourth wheel cuz Denki is third wheeling.” Apparently she thought that was funny because she started chuckling to herself.

Her hair was all wild, framing her face and her cheeks… fuck me I don’t know what it is about her cheeks plumping up when she smiles or laughs.

“Well then go be a fourth wheel or whatever the hell. I’m cooking and I don’t like other people in my kitchen.”

“Your gf usually sits with you in here. Speaking of where is she? I haven’t seen her in forever and we need to catch up . She always gives the best gossip on you.”

“She had other shit to do and what kind of gossip does she tell about me???!”

“ oh nothing really”, she leaned over on the counter and her fucking tits were smooshed in between her arms.

“For the love of god can you please just get the fuck away from me?! How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t like you. I don’t wanna be your shitty friend or listen to whatever the hell it is you constitute as jokes. Just get the fuck out!”, that last part was a hell of a lot louder than I expected it to be.

That’s when the tear fell. What the hell had I done?

She reached up quickly and wiped it away.

“Hey, why are you yelling at her like that you jackass? Y/N are you ok?”, Mina was the first one in the kitchen. And the rest of them followed suit. All asking question I didn’t have answers to.

“You guys I’m fine. Really. We all know how he gets when he’s cooking. Let’s just go back in the living room and let him finish.”, she smiled again but it didn’t reach her eyes. Damn it all to hell I felt like worst person to ever exist.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”, Mina asked her again as everyone started retreating the the living room.

I wasn’t able to hear her answer. I tried to put the whole thing outta my head and finish what I was doing but I couldn’t. It kept replaying in my head.

My phone brought be back to the present. Who the heel was calling me? When I looked down at the contact my girlfriend’s name was sitting there. Perfect fucking timing.

“Hello”

“Hey baby. What are you up to”, she sounded giddy.

“Im finishing up dinner, where are you?”

“On the way back my friends house. We are having a slumber party.”, he words were a little slurred.

“So I guess you guys have already started drinkin.”

“Haha yep.”, I heard someone in the background telling her to get off the phone. No boy calls at girls night. “Well I gotta go doll. My friends are getting upset with me. Love you!”

She hung up before I could even say it back. Women.

I had everything ready to go now, so I went out to tell the idiots it was time to eat.

She was gone.

“Is Y/N in the bathroom or something??”

Mina looked at me like she was ready to murder me, “ no she left. You yelled at her and hurt her feelings and she didn’t wanna stay. We tried to convince her.”

“Yea bro I think she was about to start crying. Why’d you yell at her like that?”, Eijirou said.

“She’s so cool. I don’t know why you don’t like her. You’ve been mean to her since she started hanging out with us.”, Denki chimed in

“Mina send me her address.” I grabbed my keys and started heading for the door.

“Why would I do that when she’s upset with you? You gonna go over there and yell at her some more cuz let me tell you-“

“I’m going to fucking apologize, so just send me the goddamn address.”

I got in my car and started driving. What the hell was I doing? Why am I going over here? I could give a rats ass about hurting someone’s feelings but here I am with my GPS on looking for her apartment building.

I got up to her door and paused because I knew that I should turn around. I knew I should just let the whole thing blow over but like the idiot I am, my hand starts banging on her front door.

I hear muffled through the door, “coming”

She opened the door and looked at my face. Had my foot not been in the door, she would’ve slammed it close.

“Move your foot before I stomp the shit out of it.”

I could feel the smirk pulling at my lips, “these are steal toe boots. I’d like to see you try.”, I told her.

“What do you want Bakugo? Why are you paying unwanted visits to my house? How did you even get my goddamn address?”, she looked disgusted with me. That’s fair. Also didn’t miss that she was calling me by my last name.

“Mina gave me your address. I’m coming to bring your back.”,

Part 2

[noraunor]

His loss and ruin.

Angel x sibling reader

๑ | synopsis: after a few years in hell, angel met a certain demon that he thought he could actually trust. Angel did actually fell for him, sadly, kindness nor love was a thing in hell, so he became more ruined and broken. Until a certain gambling demon came for his rescue.

๑ | tw : cursing, panick attack, abuse will be mentioned, blood, gore, death will be also be mentioned.

๑ | a/n : a part two from " my little sunshine " ig? HAHA I just watched HH ep 4 or 5 just right now and it just booster my motivation to write a second part of that one HEHE hope y'all liked it! ~

" My little sunshine "

Master list

After the chaos occured on Valentino's studio and his very first heated argument with husk, angel ran off to a strip club to blow off some steam, but Satan must be hating on him somehow to bring husk to his tail and be his 'little-shining-armor' and caused more chaos.

" husk, what the actual fuck you are doin' here? " angel groaned as he struggled against his hold.

" let go off me! " he tried to pulled his arms back but fails miserably when husk tightened his hold to him and proceeds to push him away from the club.

" no, I'm takin' you back to the hotel. " husks gruff voice grumbled behind him.

" gett- off! " he groaned as he kicked his legs back trying to push him away to his relief, husk finally let go of his arms. Angel dusted off non-existent dust off of himself as husker gave him a frustrated look.

" that fucker put somethin' on yer drink. " angel glared at him.

" you don't think I can't tell when someone spikes my drink?! " he snapped as he run his fingers to his hair " I do this all fuckin' time! " he continues as husk gave him a look of disbelief.

" you just let people drug you all the time? "

More anger and frustration bubbled to angels chest, the bottle is in the verge of exploding.

Angel snapped his body to husks direction as his hands were in front of him, indicating his distress and frustrations.

" you think I ask for it? ! " he snapped, catching husk off guard. " I don't ask any of this shit! "His hands flew above from his head as more of his bottled emotions pour out.

" I didn't ask to be this way. " he turned back to him as husk stared at him.

" I didn't ask for you Charlie to save me, " he pointed at Huskers chest as he stepped away.

" I didn't asked for you to save me. " he pointed more to his chest, there nose were barely touching.

" I can handle myself. " he huffed pointing at himself " really? Because I just see someone self-distructing. " husked snapped back pointing back at angel's chest which angel leaned away. Husker pauses before continuing.

" it's seems like-- " just turned away " I don't know.. " he shook his head. Husker turned back again to face angel as he shrugged awkwardly " it seems like you need a bartender to talk too. " angel laughed at he placed his hand to hide forehead.

" oh, so— " he flew his hands again to his side as he chuckled. " now you're going to act like you give shit about me? " he places one of his hand to his hip.

" you think after how you treated me—" he quirkee a brow a him, pointing at him " I'm going to open up to you? Please. " he huffed as he opens his arms again dramatically as he turned away ready to walk out of this, and this conversation before he breaks more.

" maybe I would treat you better if you you were real, " more anger filled angels nerves as unwanted memories flew back to his mind. From the start where he was alive. Where he was still with you.

Anthony came back home late again with more bruises on his neck, his body was swaying as he stumbled to his steps when his eyes landed on you.

You were seated in front of the door with your arms and legs crossed.

He wondered, why we're yous till awake.

" anth. "

Anthonh breath out before cracking up a wobbly smile as he leaves ok the door frame " heya sunshine. " he shot and finger guns at you, but your expression remains the same and clearly unfazed.

He gulped, " why- why are you still awake? It's in the middle of the night.. " he stumbled up on his step as he walked towards your direction.

" oh I don't know, maybe because I was waiting for my idiot, stupid of a brother to come home and actually eat with me in the nights and sleep together and cuddle like he promised? " you quirked a brow at him as you stand up from your seat.

He gulped once again, " oooh.. " he breathe to his teeth as he sighed and gave you an apologetic look. " I'm sorry sunshine.. For- not being able to eat dinner with you.. It's just- "

" work has been very tougher lately and you/i can't afford to leave early. " you rolled your eyes, perfectly synchronizing with him which he gave you a shock look before letting out a breathless laugh.

" well- wow. " he coughed out.

" anth.. " you sighed frustratedly as you walked towards him " I know you, we're literally siblings. I know you from head to toe and you're like an open book to me. "

You stared up at him with a frown, he looked completely nervous, making you sigh as he averted eye contact again.

" I know when soemthin's up or not, and I can tell that work has not been only tough, but rough for ya too. And don't think I can't see the bruises anth, I can literally see the dried blood on 'yer nose. " you squinted an eye at him which he flinched when you noticed this.

He sighed as he slumped before chuckling.

" I just can't hide anythin' from ya, aight sunshine? "He cocked his head to the side.

" bitch, I've been with your for years, what did ya expect? " you chuckled when you felt a stinging pain on your forehead.

" hey! Language. " he pouted.

" Italian and english? " you sarcastically replied.

" Gesù Cristo, sei una minaccia, " he chuckled as he shook his head ruffling your hair.

" hey! Watch it! I just groomed that! " you groaned. But giggling afterwards, he too started to chuckle as the both of you shared a heart laugh.

Once the both of you calmed down, a soft from were on your face again as you sighed.

" I just don't want'cha to hide things from me anth.. You've been there for me ,and I wanna be there for ya too, so please just cut the act ok? " you dropped your head softly to his chest as you lazily hang your arms around his waist.

" I don't want to see you silently suffer so please, " you tilted your head to meet his troubled face.

" don't be afraid to lend me 'yer troubles ok? "

Angel stared at you for a moment before sighing as he hugged you with his other hand on your head.

" what can I do? I can't say no ta that eyes sugar. " he softly laughed as you smiled brightly at him.

" good, now let's eat! "

Angel felt tears swelled up upon his eyes at the memory as his heart pounded, he the lump of his throat thickens as he listened more to husk.

" and not some bullshit version of yourself, ways pushin' my boundaries. " husks scoffed as he watched angel walked away from him. This grew more frustration for husk.

" lemme tell ya, nobody in that hotel cares who you are! " he snapped as he swung his hand to his side. " how famous, how hot. "

" so you might as well just cut the act. " angel stopped from his tracks. With that single sentence, he finally snapped.

" anth.. We talked a bout this, I told you to not be afraid of lending me your troubles. If I were to loose my life just ta have you to open up then sure I'd fuckin' bet my life on that. " you sighed dramatically as angel shot you a look for swearing but you ignored it " like I've said, I've been with you for years, I can literally see through that mask that you're in trouble. So please just drop the act, ok? "

Your voice rang onto his mind as his mind finally went blank, emotions finally exploding.

" IT'S NOT AN ACT! " he snapped turning around to face husk again, tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. Husk was once again, shocked as he finally see his walls breaking down.

" it's who I need to be.. " he hugged himself as he averted his eyes.

" and this— " his hand flew above his head " this is my escape " escape from everything,escape from val, escape from the memory,the memory of you dying into his arms. He smiled but it was strained and tensed.

" where I can forget about it all! " he turned again stumbling as he leaned into the clubs wall for support. An image of you dead in his arms flashed into his mind again.

" h-how much I hate-! " himself, he hated himself for for not being able to save you from that night. " everything! " he continued.

" a place where I can get high, and not have to think how much it hurts. " he clutched his chest. He wondered, what would you think if you saw him now, would you still care for him? Love him? Would you still see him as an older brother?

" and maybe.. " he pushes himself off of the wall as he places his hands on the side of his head as he looked down on his foot. " I can ruin myself enough in the process, " his hands slowly went limp to his side.

" if I end up broken, I won't be his favorite you any more and.. I wont have to remember that fuckin' night where she died right into my arms. " his voice shook as he shook his head trying to shove away the memory of you slowly going limp into his arms.

Angel sat on the side walk, hugging his legs into his chest.

" and maybe he'll let me go.. And maybe.. And just maybe.. I might get actually redeemed and see her again. "

Husk looked down at the spider demon sadly, he wondered who's she he was talking about. But he figured that it must be someone from the day he was life, deciding not to push it, husk sat down beside him.

Husk sighed heavily as he started, " I was an overload once you know." Husk started. Angel turned his head to look at him to see if he was lying.

Husk met his eyes before smiling awkwardly.

" yeah.. And uh.. " he trailed " it's was nice to have that power, but when your dealing with souls, while Also being a gambler, the stakes are pretty high. And loosing a few more hands can be more than a little dangerous, so when you're down on you luck, you turn into anything to..keep you afloa even making deals yourself. So I know what is like to.. Regret the choices made and.. " he pauses for long before starting again. " knowin' ya can't take it back. " he finishes, a thickening silent envelopes them before angel broke it.

" I..." He trailed as he stared at the puddle infront of him " had a little sister. " husk perked up at the mention of this before turning to look at angel,

' so that was the "she" he was talking about. ' husk thought. He remains silent and listened further.

" she was my everything, my source of light, my little sunshine. " angel smiled sadly, husks eyes widened a little to see him talking so sweety about someone, but it was a relative anyways so of course he'd talk sweetly about it. But it was new to see angel dust being like that.

" our parents were never good, so we eventually ran away from home once I turned 18,she was 16 back then. " he pauses before continuing " her name is Y/N, Y/N is.. Someone ya should not mess with, the girl was like a tiger on loose when mad. " he chuckled dryly " but overall that chaotic personality, she was the sweetest sugar you'd eva' picked, a delicate little flower. " he sighed as he stared into the distance.

" back then, I was very secretive, hidin' my outside doins from her, comin' home late and neva' eaten dinners with her, no cuddles night and such... " he sighed before continuing " she confronted me once about that, but.. I choose to hide things from her again, till one night. I caught myself in a bad deal and stole bunch'a drugs and money.. And that stupidity of mine caused her life. " he tests finally pour into his eyes as he let out a little sob.

" I watched-... Husk i watched her.. Died right in my eyes! " he panted as he turned to the feline who had his eyes wide at the information he was getting. " and.. Right into my arms. " angel hugged himself tighter.

" so that's why.. I did everything.. Everything to ruin myself more.. Just to get that wipe off of my mind, to forget- her hands slowly let go of my hand.. Her eyes running out of life.. That- little sad smile she held even dying. " he cried, shoulders were shaking as he sobbed, husk sighed as he placed a hand ok angels shoulder and pats it.

" everyday.. Everytime, I regretted not coming home early, I regretted not spending enough time with her, I regretted for not listenin' to her.. If I could turn back the time.. If I had a second chance to be with her.. I'll.. I'll be a better brother this time. " he sobbed.

Husk was silent, trying to look a better words to ease up the spider demon, he let out a heavy sigh before smiling lightly.

" well , I never known the gal but.. I'm sure she forgives ya. " he started as he watched angel tears up.

" you did fucked up big time but.. " he pauses as he stand up and walked in front of angel.

" I'm sure the gal still see's you the bestest brother she eva' had. You did took care of her once the both of ya left yer parents house, so the little gal must be waitin for ya up there. " husk smiled at him before holding out his hand, angel smiles before wiping off his tears and accepted his hands pulling himself up.

"... Thanks.. For.. Listening. " angel awkwardly rubbed his arms as husk shrugs.

" told ya you could need a bartender to talk. " the both of them chuckled when the clubs door busted open and saw them.

" THERE THEY ARE, FUCKING GET THEM! "

I'm the heavens, on your room, your hands fiddled with the necklace on your neck as you stared off into the distance.

Suddenly your nose itch making you sneeze, you rubbed your nose as you sniffle groaning a bit.

" to who ever the fuck talkin about me, I hope you bit your tongue. " you groaned.

After the little massacre happened, angel and husker were covered in blood as the two happily walked their way back on the hotel when angel suddenly bit his tongue.

" OW- FUCK-"

[incorrectbatfam]

If the members of the batfam wrote memoirs or essays about themselves, what would their opening hooks be?

Dick: *record scratch and freeze frame* So you're probably wondering how I ended up here.

Jason: This is the story of how I died. Don't worry, I got better.

Tim: It all began on the day of my actual birth. Both of my parents failed to show up.

Damian: A caution to those who have an inferiority complex: stop reading right this second. The Homeric epic of my life will only make you feel more useless.

Duke: According to all known laws of city planning, there is no way a city like Gotham should be able to exist. It's infrastructure is too weak to build its fat little buildings off the ground. Gotham, of course, runs anyway, because the city doesn't care what humans think is impossible.

Cullen: The first rule of Tumblr is you don't talk about Tumblr.

Stephanie: ...I can explain.

Cassandra: Hi my name is Cassandra Wu-San Black Bat Orphan Cain and I have short bat-colored black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-shoulder and cold black eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like an Asian Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to the Biblical Cain but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a bat but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a vigilante, and I live in a comic book city called Gotham in New Jersey where I’m the second Batgirl (I’m twenty-four). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black bodysuit with matching holsters around it and a black leather jacket, yellow fingerless gloves and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside in Gotham. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of Rogues stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

Barbara: Do you ever look at someone and wonder what is going on inside their head?

Harper: A long long time ago in a city far away...

Carrie: Bruce told me I can't insert audio so let's just say you got Rickrolled.

Kate: The definition of gay? Me. The definition of disaster? Also me. My picture's in the dictionary twice, suck it.

Alfred: In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and more bat-children. And at this point I'm not so sure about death.

Selina: "Mom I want Bruce Wayne" "We have Bruce Wayne at home" The Bruce Wayne at home:

Bruce: Look behind you.

[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - part 3

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara have a study date

warnings: none

word count: 1700+

author's note: pure fluff, some fluff, and a little more fluff

previous part | next part

“Can you name three of Shakespeare’s histories, tragedies, and comedies?”

I wonder how planes fly. Like, where’s the physics in that? Tara thought as she stared blankly at the notebook in front of her, the page filled with half-assed notes about literature. And why can’t we fly? That’s bullshit.

“Tara? Are you with me?”

This mattress is really comfy. I should ask her where she got it.

“Tar?”

Tara glanced up at the sound of your voice, blushing as she realized that you had been asking her a question, which had promptly flown over her head because of how boring the topic was.

“Sorry, what was the question?” she asked sheepishly, smiling at the way you giggled.

“Three histories, three tragedies, three comedies,” you said.

She’ll be lucky if I can even name three plays in general. Tara huffed, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought. “Okay, comedies: Twelfth Night, The Merchant of Venice, and…uh, The Winter’s Tale?”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowed as you thought about her answer. “Twelfth Night and The Merchant of Venice, yes, but The Winter’s Tale is technically labeled as a tragicomedy nowadays.” What the fuck is a tragicomedy? Tara thought. She blinked at you, and you clicked your tongue. “I think your professor would accept that, though. Next?”

“Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, and Titus Andronicus--tragedies.” You nodded, not even sparing a glance at your own note sheet that you had pulled out to help Tara study. How does she just know this shit off the top of her head? “And histories? All of the Henry plays.”

You chuckled. “Can you be more specific?”

“No.”

“Tar, come on.” You crossed the room and sat on your bed, leaving your desk abandoned. She held her breath at your sudden closeness, your shoulder nudging against hers as you pointed at her notebook. “You have them written down.” You squinted. “I think? Tara, I can’t even read this.”

She looked down at her notes. What she had thought was legible writing was, in fact, just chicken-scratch. “Oh,” she said. “I think I was falling asleep during this lecture.” She sighed and leaned back against your pillows. “This is stupid. I’m a film major! I don’t need to know about Shakespeare or Hawthorne or the Pope!”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do you mean Pope, as in Alexander Pope?”

Tara frowned. “Same difference.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.” You shook your head, giggling. “Look, I know you find literature boring--”

“Literature is the bane of my existence,” she stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

You leaned back, and Tara tensed as you placed your head on her shoulder. Must. Stay. Perfectly. Still.

“You didn’t have to take Intro to Lit., you know. There’s a lot of other courses that could’ve fulfilled this credit.”

She grumbled. “Mindy told me to take it. She said it would be easy.” She clenched her jaw. “It’s not easy.”

A laugh erupted from your throat, shaking Tara’s frame, and a grin pulled at her lips at the sound. “Of course she would think it’s easy, Tar,” you said. “She likes literature.”

“Whatever,” she huffed.

You sat up and twisted yourself so that you could look at her, your eyes soft and smile softer. “Come on.” You pulled lamely at her arm. “We’ve gotta get back to studying.”

“Fine.” She sat up and rested her chin on your shoulder. “But I’m not happy about it.” She felt as you shivered when she spoke, her breath painting over the skin of your cheek.

Your eyes flitted down to her lips, and just when she thought you were about to lean in, you asked, “Can you explain the idea of the Blazon to me?”

She clamped her eyes shut. This girl will be the death of me. She opened her eyes, looked at the small smile that was always on your lips whenever you were around her, and sighed out, “Okay.” And I’ll gladly accept that death.

* * *

“There’s only, like, three more authors we have to go over, Tar.”

It had been nearly four hours since you had moved away from Shakespeare and onto the other works that Tara had been reading for her literature class, and it was safe to say that Tara was burned out.

“Can’t we just take a nap or something instead?” she asked. She tugged at the sleeve of your sweatshirt to pull you to lay back with her. “Or make out?”

The tips of your ears turned bright pink, and she was sure that if you were facing her, the rest of your face would be the same hue. “Shut up,” you mumbled. You looked at her, and her guess was proven correct--you were blushing all over. “We have to do Emily Dickinson.”

“Oh! Like that TV series with Hailee Steinfeld.”

Your eyes widened. “You watched that?”

She shrugged. “Some of it, but I was only paying attention to--”

“Hailee Steinfeld, of course.” You chuckled. “You didn’t listen to any of the poems, did you?”

She waved you off. “Of course I didn’t.”

You shook your head and looked down at her notes, eyebrows furrowing and a scoff pushing past your lips. “You guys didn’t even read any of her best poems,” you said. You stood suddenly, and Tara watched as you crossed the room to your backpack, pulling out a small, battered, leather-bound journal. You cracked it open. “Like, how did your professor never assign ‘I Cannot Live With You’?”

Tara shrugged. “Never heard of it.”

You cleared your throat. “‘I cannot live with you,’” you began, taking small steps toward the bed as you read. “‘It would be life--, and life is over there--, behind the shelf.’” You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still trained on your notebook. “‘The Sexton keeps the key to--, putting up, our life--his porcelain--, like a cup.’”

Tara listened as you continued to read her the poem, her heartbeat speeding up at each word that rolled off your tongue. You looked so peaceful reading poetry, like you had just made your way home after a long trip, and she gulped. Jesus Christ, she thought. Could she be any more perfect?

“‘So we must meet apart--, you there--I--here--, with just the door ajar, that oceans are--and prayer--, and that white sustenance--, despair,’” you finished, glancing up at her when you were done. She was staring back at you with half-lidded eyes and her mouth slightly agape. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“You’re beautiful,” she breathed out, and you smiled, blushing again. “Can we makeout now? Because that was, like, the hottest thing ever.”

You shut your journal and threw it near Tara’s notebook. “You’re horrible,” you joked. She shrugged, like she couldn’t be blamed for wanting to pounce on you. “Since your mind is so set on kissing me, let’s turn your studying into a little game.”

Tara eyebrow’s furrowed. Why won’t she just make out with me? “A game?”

“I’ll ask you questions, and if you get them right, you’ll get a kiss,” you said. She nodded fervently and sat up, hovering over her notebook.

“Okay! I’m ready!” She glanced at you, watching as you giggled to yourself. “Also, before we start, is this entire thing”--she pointed at your journal--“filled with poems?”

You shook your head. “The back half is poems, the front half is plays and novels.”

She picked up the little book and opened it, eyes widening at your delicate handwriting detailing different plays that you wanted to read or novels that your professors suggested. She flipped to the back half, where she found pages upon pages of poems written out, some from Emily Dickinson, some from authors she had never heard of in her life.

“You’re such a nerd, you know,” she teased, putting the journal back down.

“Yeah, a nerd that’s gonna get you a passing grade on this damn midterm.” You grabbed her notebook from her, leafing through the pages before settling on a topic. “Okay, what literary period was Alexander Pope in?” you asked.

“Uh, an old one,” Tara said lamely.

You glared at her lightly. “Tar, I’m not kissing you until you get one right, so you might as well try.”

She huffed. “Fine.” Literary period? Stupid. It’s all stupid. “The Restoration?”

“Close,” you said. “Wanna try again?”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes teasingly. I’d like to see her eyes rolling in a different way-- “It’s the Augustan Age. What about Jonathan Swift?”

“Oh! I know this! It’s also the Augustan Age, ‘cause he and Pope were friends.”

You tilted your head. “They weren’t really friends, but--”

“But that’s right, isn’t it? Don’t I get my kiss now?”

You chuckled at her eagerness. “You sure do.” Tara leaned forward, and she frowned when you put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “If you can name one piece that Swift wrote.”

She gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “You said you’d kiss me if I got a question right!” she whined.

“I also said I’d get you to pass this test.” You raised an eyebrow at her. “So, what did Swift write? Give me literally anything.”

Cruel Summer, Cardigan, Back to December. She shook her head. That’s Taylor Swift, stupid. Jonathan Swift, on the other hand…

“Uh, ‘A Modest Proposal’?”

You leaned forward, pressed your lips to hers, and she grinned into the kiss. Win!

“Good job, baby,” you said when you pulled away, your eyes widening when you realized the pet name that had slipped out. “I mean, uh--”

“‘Baby’, huh?” She bit her bottom lip and smiled. “I could get used to hearing you say that.”

bonus: “i got an A on my midterm!” tara exclaimed from where she sat at her desk, eyes on her laptop, which displayed the grade that had just been released.

mindy, who was scrolling through her phone on tara’s bed, jumped at the sound. “you got an A? On Intro to Lit.?”

tara grinned. “it pays having an english major for a girlfriend.”

“girlfriend?!” mindy immediately started scrambling on her phone, and tara heard her own phone buzz on her desk a minute later. she picked it up, glancing at the screen.

you :D (9:43pm): girlfriend, huh?

you :D (9:43pm): i wasn’t aware we were girlfriends yet

tara (9:44pm): hold that thought

tara twisted in her seat, eyes narrowed at mindy. “i swear to god, i am going to strangle you.”

[inmyheadimobsessed]

Lies Bout How I Hate You

pairing: shuri ✘ plussize!black!fem!reader

summary: being broken up seems to hold different meanings to both you and shuri. you're trying to move on, you're dating, which she allows, until she decides she's had enough of seeing you with someone who isn't her.

word count: literally just vibeeee

contains: ex!reader & ex!shuri, reader hates shuri, cocky!shuri, jealous!shuri, possessive!shuri, smut (18+) dom!shuri, sub!reader, oral (both receiving), strap!shuri, masturbation, breeding!kink, fingering (reader receiving), overstimulation, shuri's mean, use of toys (vibrating kimoyo bead), slight degradation!kink, humiliation!kink, praise!kink, mirror sex, car sex, restraints, panther!shuri, dirty talk, kinda public orgasm, multiple orgasms, light mention of blood, choking, spanking, orgasm denial, squirting, rough sex, coming untouched, crying, biting

tags: @verachii @zayswriting @quintessencewrites @rxcently @widowmakker @blackgcomica @n7cje @dejaonline @shinsousliya @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @pinkwright @saintwrld @axailslink @mocha-aya @letitias-fav @uhwhatsay @6-noir @cuddl3s4shur1 @percsane @chidinma @shuriszn @lppriceisright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @abenomeiiii @marsolgy @prettymrswright @shurisjournal @marsolgy @shurismainbxtch @shurisbbymama @bestfriend491 @shuriri4life @adeola-the-explorer @bubshri @playhousedistee @cafehyunji @bigbigbigfan @vixentheplanet @ventingfanfics @yunhofingers @yamsthoughts @iseebeautyinwords @ihearttish @vampzxi

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: THIS! is my apology for the pain i put y'all through. i hope it can suffice. just walk with me a little bit here with this one okay? there's plot but the plot is just smut fr. i will not disclose the songs i was listening to when i came up with this cause y'all gon look at me fucking crazy, but some hints are sprinkled throughout idk. i once saw someone on twitter describe one of my fics by saying "when you think they're done fucking, they're not" it made me laugh and i think it holds relevance here. shouts out to oomf for translations! but anywho, as always, enjoy mwah, mwah!

↬ aftermaths {aftercare scene}

She smirked, pushing your exposed back up against the cool steel of your apartment door, and you shivered, permitting your exhale to emerge as a low taunting moan. This, she bit her lip at, shutting her eyes tight as the desperation coating your whimper washed over her. “That’s a pretty ass sound.”

Brown eyes twinkled as they bore into her, your own plump bottom lip finding its way between your teeth and you gave her a shy grin. “You think so?”

“Mmm,” Her eyes remained shut as you watched her, your restraint slipping just a bit when that strong arm of hers reached above your head to grip firmly to the door frame. “What if I wanna hear it again?”

Fingers flexed overhead as she tightened her grasp, and it was there that you allowed your eyes to remain, admiring slender digits and the potential they held as you considered her question. Inviting her in had crossed your mind, on many occasions actually. You liked her, a lot, and you liked the feelings that came alive inside you when she spoke and when she peered at you as she did now.

“You gon work for it?” It was meant to be a response carried by confidence, but the shake in tone gave your nerves away, and she huffed a laugh. The taller woman knew you wanted her; you didn’t hide it very well. Truthfully, you weren't trying to. You pondered it, her request to hear you moan for her again. You could allow it, maybe. Riri was probably at her garage and you’d have the place to yourselves; she'd have you to herself. Fuck, you wanted that.

The blow of her breath and the ghost of her lips could just be enough to coerce your decision. “This is me working for it.” And when she kissed you, long and rough, you produced that sound she chased again. It was louder now; stronger, firmer, and you’d made up your mind.

“You wanna com–” The door existed as the only thing keeping you upright, so ultimately, when the press of it was ripped away from your spine, you stumbled backward, and your body cascaded into a pair of muscular arms whose hold you knew all too well.

Shuri gripped you, letting her lanky fingers graze your sides long enough to quench her thirst before reluctantly steadying you on your feet. “Shit. Sorry.” Eyes stalked your date, never moving from her post behind you. In fact, you were certain the Princess eased in closer, squeezing her toned front tightly against your back with a low grunt. There was nary a bone in her body that’d been apologetic.

Shuri's temperature remained searing, beaming off her person in familiar waves, but unlike prior times, it offered you no comfort. Now, her warmth worked overtime to make you feel sticky and stifled, and you struggled to keep your annoyance in check, though it was apparent she comprehended your mood as she peered down at you now.

“Naci, I’ll call you tomorrow, aight?”

She narrowed her eyes at Shuri who still loomed behind you; possessive and daring, clearly sensing some sort of tension between you two, and she did the little she could to assert a form of dominance. Though there was no use in doing so, there was no competition to be had when Shuri already claimed the title of winner. And you could tell she knew this, her daunting smirk giving it away as she stepped away from your rear to clutch the open door.

“Bye Natty.” And then she slammed it, walking past you to plop back onto the indented couch. She'd been sitting there the entire time, great.

“The fuck is your damn problem, bro?”

When she spoke, her attention never made its way to you, and you rolled your eyes at your failure to rattle her with words. “That mouth of yours has gotten a little too bold. I think that's my problem.”

“Shuri, the fuck are you still doing here?” Your arms were crossed now, feet still planted at the door as you eyed her, disregarding her words entirely. She was supposed to be gone, returned to Wakanda, and tucked safely away behind their pretty little borders. Yet here she sat, on your couch, drinking your liquor.

The rim of the glass collided with her lips, and her throat bounced as she knocked the last of her drink back, never once reacting to the sting of the pungent liquid. “I see a little time apart has you thinking you can just speak to me however you want.”

“Time apar…” Was this bitch crazy? You hadn't missed this, her delusions, the practiced way she chose to ignore certain details when it came to the two of you. “Shuri, we broke up. Three months ago. Get the fuck over it. Now, what are you still doing here?”

Shuri passed a brief glance your way, and her conniving grin made your body sizzle in sheer irritation as you shifted your weight from your right leg to your left. God you fucking hated her, and you needed her out of your space. The claim was that she'd come to visit her best friend, but rarely had she spent time with Riri over the course of her three-week stay. Instead, she spent her days heckling you and scaring off your dates.

So when Riri informed you she would indeed be leaving today, you jumped for joy, excited to finally be rid of her annoying ass. But, evidently, your rejoice was an act done in vain, you’d found.

She quirked her brow, “Can I not be here?”

“No. Like you gotta get the fuck, for real.”

Shuri stood, pulling up her sweatpants before reaching for her empty glass sitting on the coffee table. Her legs moved, taking her toward the kitchen and you flinched a little when a suffocating gust of her spicy cologne found its way inside your system. Like Shuri’s everlasting presence, the strong scent instantly made your head throb, and you sighed, watching her maneuver through your cabinets.

The large bottle of Cognac was clutched in her fist, because of course audacity drove her to reach for the most expensive one, and she grabbed a second glass, drizzling the dark liquid into the one presumably for you first, before pouring her own. Did she think you were exes who could casually have a drink with each other? The thought made you roll your eyes, but when she slid the glass across the smooth countertop, you gravitated toward it, gripping it and downing it almost immediately with a harsh cough.

You didn't miss her soft chuckle and head shake as she watched you follow her wordless instruction, and it was then that you cursed your brain’s and body's practiced synchronism when obeying her. It was an action you still struggled with, because Shuri had embedded her dislike for defiance so deep into you, you sometimes forgot you don't have to follow her orders anymore.

“You want me gone so you can finally bring your little dates inside instead of settling for half-assed kisses at the door like school children?”

Your eyes rolled again. Her insolence was truly a thing admired, and it had you pondering how you put up with it for as long as you did before finally having enough. “Shuri, don't fucking piss me off tonight, okay? I'm not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“Jonga umlomo wakho.” (watch your mouth)

The spit of her native tongue shook you slightly, but a lengthy exhale centered you; you weren't planning to let her get under your skin any more than she already had. She pressed her back against the island, sipping sweetly on her drink as she ogled your skin. Shuri's low eyes fanned the expanse of your large thighs barely covered by your pleated mini skirt, the cup of your ass very visible beneath the skimpy material. She stared at your cleavage unabashedly too, and licked her lips.

The sight of her shamelessly checking you out made you audibly gag, and she smirked at the sound before taking another swig from her glass.

You hadn't put your jacket down, nor had you removed the sparkly purse dangling from your shoulder; she hadn't given you a chance to.

“Why are you still in my damn house?” You asked again, and she grinned, pushing off the counter and moving closer to where you awkwardly stood.

You dipped your head as she approached you, averting her eyes and their easy way of reading you, but soft fingers lifting your chin placed your gaze in the direct line of hers. “You want me gone that bad, thando-iwam?” (my love)

Your hand wrapped around her wrist almost immediately after her question, snatching it and shoving her touch away scornfully. “Yes.”

Her surprise at your reaction shone through her wavering smirk. There was self-assurance in that one word, and you could tell it wasn't a thing she'd anticipated by her stuttering blink. She was cracking, good. She needed to know you didn't belong to her anymore and her hands could not graze your skin as they once did, though it’d be a lie to deny her fingers on your face didn't push a jolt of something through you.

Of course, you ignored it, because Shuri was an ass, and she’d never get you to fold, not like she used to.

When she moved in closer to inhale your perfume, you didn't react, and she hated that too. There’d been hope, you noticed, hope that your reluctance was feigned. And your own smirk grew then, because your disdain for the Princess was indeed authentic.

She bobbed her head, “You know I pay rent here. My name is on the lease, so technically I can be here. For as long as I would like.”

“Shu–”

She stuck a finger out, quieting you, and like a trained pet, you adhered. “Technically I pay your rent here. So I think I’m the one with the authority to kick you out. Right?”

“Nigga nobody asking you to do that shit. I think we both know I can afford the lifestyle I choose to live, but if you wanna keep throwing two lil stacks my way every month, fuck I’m post to do? Say no?”

She hummed, seemingly pleased by the outburst she pulled out of you, and you groaned. Paying your half of the rent in your shared apartment with Riri had been a no-brainer for Shuri at the beginning of your relationship; the act was her own idea, and of course, you agreed because why would you not? The continued peddling of funds after your breakup was also her doing. You’d fully expected her to stop supporting you in retaliation, given it was you who ended things, but money kept coming, and you kept accepting.

Shuri tutted, “Three months and you've already forgotten how to speak to me. I do not like this, sthandwa.”

“Bruh, I'm off this. You so fucking irritating. Please do not be here when I wake up in the morning Shuri, or I swear to fucking god.” You watched her blink slowly and she bit her lip, no doubt mesmerized by the sway of your hips as you sauntered away from her.

Fuck her, like truly, because where did she get off behaving as she did? Shuri had no conception of boundaries; she refused to respect the ones you’d put up to cage yourself away from her. In her demented little mind, you were still hers, and she didn't care if you refuted her claim on you. Thinking about it made your stomach bubble, so you decided you wouldn't.

You: Hey, I’m so sorry about earlier. Lemme make it up to you? Are you free Tomorrow?

Naci: It’s all good. What you tryna be on?

Her speedy reply coaxed a squeal out of you, and the lack of admonishment behind her message made you blush. Biting your lip, you reminisced on the feel of her mouth on yours, her tongue in your throat, and her request to hear you moan for her again. The throbbing at your core roared awake your need to do only one thing as you imagined her hands all over you, and you began to strip.

With your naked body sprawled on top of your thick comforter, you reached for your dildo sitting pretty on your nightstand, lathering it with lube before allowing it to hover impatiently at your leaking entrance.

Desperate hands urged you to dive straight in, spread your pussy wide around the toy, but you decided teasing yourself would be best. You chose to make yourself work for it.

“Ooh fuuuuck…” You blew out a soft exhale as the dildo slithered its way into your soaked hole, slamming your eyes shut to bask in the pressure-filled stretch. Once you discovered the rhythm you liked, your thrusts gained speed, and soon you were spitting out moan after moan. Your sounds rose in octave as you fucked yourself hard with the thick slab of silicone and your breath hitched, and you pinched hard on your nipple for added pleasure. “Shit! Shit!”

Fuck, you were dripping, the wettest you’d been in a long time. You rammed into your g-spot again and again, thoughts running to Naci. You wished it was her working your wet pussy this hard, yearned to feel her strap gliding in and out of your cunt as you screamed her name until she made you come hard around her. That familiar band inside your depths began its inevitable tightening, and you continued to drill yourself, granting your hand permission to find your neglected clit. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

You splashed around in your wetness, serenading the Princess lounging in your living room with a song of obscenities. “Oh, Naci!” You were certain she was listening, she had no choice in the matter, undoubtedly honing in on just how drenched you got when pleasing yourself to the thought of a woman that wasn't her.

“Ohh fuck me Naci!” Legs spread wider, you fucked yourself deeper, and that sweet nudge against your special spot tugged roughly on your release.

You’d be coming soon, floating sweetly on a cloud of bliss. But you wanted to prolong your orgasm, just so you could keep your moans at an increased volume, just so you could force your ex-girlfriend to sit in the sound. “Naci!”

Her name tumbled from parted lips and your orgasm shocked your entire system, causing you to shudder and lose your grip on the dildo still wedged inside you. The sensation was enough to put you to sleep, but you fought it, trying to catch your breath as you stumbled to the shower.

You were wrapped in your towel when you opened the door to skip across the hall, and that's when you saw her. Back flush against the wall, jaw set and twitching, as she shifted dark eyes to you; Shuri was angry, and the image of her stewing in her rage pleased you deeply. You shot her a wink before stepping into the bathroom and letting the door click shut, still reeling from the combined high of your climax and the sight of a pissed-off panther.

•••

Soft lips on your neck made you giggle as you leaned into the tingle they brought about, wanting desperately for the fingers indenting your uncovered waist to travel farther south. “My lips feel good right there shawty?”

“Mhmm.” Naci’s teasing digits looped under the band of your damp panties, causing you to whimper. You wanted more, and your little rocking rhythm on her thigh told her as much. She refused to grant your wish though, yanking her fingers free from underneath the cloth clinging to your cunt and you whined. “S-Stop playing with me.”

She chuckled at your cute little stutter, and you pouted. “You sure ole girl not here? Cause I ain't tryna get my ass handed to me by no Black Panther, my face too pretty for that.”

“You are kinda pretty,” You slung your arms around her neck, leaning back a little to admire her cute face. The Sun shining through the large windows in your living room reflected on her septum ring, and you let your palms caress the orange velvet durag tied snugly on her head. “And no, her ass is not here. But even if she was I wouldn't care. Ion give a damn about Shuri's delusional ass, I want you.”

Naci laughed again, sliding her fingers up and down the base of your spine before cupping your ass in both palms. “See you can say that, cause she not gon do nothing to you. But ion know, I'm a lil scared of her.”

You groaned at this, not wanting to accept that Shuri indeed held the power to prevent you from getting fucked as you deserved. It’d been too long since you were laid up under somebody's daughter, and having to make yourself come only served to bore you. “Don't worry about her, she can't do shit to you. Worry about this pussy instead, and how wet it is for you.”

Fingers laced around her wrist, bristling under the icy brush of her Rolex as you dragged her hand to your needy center. “You feel that baby,” Her own fingers skimmed the sizable puddle seeping through your underwear, making you hiss when she pressed into your achy clit above the material. “Sooo fucking wet for you.”

“So fucking wet for me, huh?” You nodded and she returned her lips to your throat, never losing her pace of stroking you.

Small whimpers climbed out of you as she continued, and Naci encouraged your rolling hips. You were dampening her jeans, but that was an afterthought now. “Fuck, shawty you so damn sexy, this pussy feels so good.”

“Y-Yeah? You gon fuck it then baby?” You were practically riding her fingers and she had yet to slip one inside you. Desperation drove your humps, and it proved to turn her on; Naci leaned back against your couch, watching you seductively as she pushed into your clit like a button, all whilst leaving the work up to you and your incessant grinding. She wanted you to get off on the mere idea of potentially getting what you wanted, her smirk gave that away, and the act brought familiarity with it.

Shuri did that. A lot. She would deviously force you to ride her thigh with zero assistance on her end, hovering above you as she watched you writhe in her sheets solely from gentle pecks along your neck.

And you would come. Always. Because Shuri's presence was arousing like that. Well, it used to be arousing like that.

“I might be open to it. Right here on the couch though?” She questioned, seemingly amused.

You nodded, “Right fucking here on the couch baby. Right here.”

Naci slid your panties to the side, gasping when she glanced down at your shiny folds, then her eyes flicked to yours with a grin, “I got you like that?”

“Mhmm!” She sucked her sticky finger before finally connecting her bare skin with your own and she circled your hole, sinking a single digit inside. “Oh fuck, just like that baby. Add another one!”

Her smirk was immediate, and she did as you asked, sliding a second finger in, a third sneaking in soon after and you whined from her shaking pumps. “Ooh shit! Fuck me, baby, don't stop!”

“Don't stop?” Her rhythm differed from your preferred, but it did its part in winding you up all the same, and when her thumb flicked your clit, you lost it.

“Fuck! Keep going! Deeper, baby, deeper!” And she obliged, slithering her slick-coated digits deeper into your soaked pussy, looking down at her handy work as her fingers fucked you. She was moaning along with you as you rocked into her press, hips stuttering, causing you to throw your head back. The couch cushions crumbled inside your fists as you used them to anchor yourself, climax swimming swiftly to you. “Just like that ooh! Fuck baby, you got this pussy so damn wet. You finna make me–”

“What the fuck are you doing?” You were so caught up in your bliss and the promise of an orgasm, that the sound of an opening door passed you idly by. But the feel of your apartment walls quaking under the slam of it pulled you out of your euphoria instantly. You listened to the rattling in your cabinets, glasses clinking under the sudden clap of thunder, and you watched your picture frames tilt on their hooks. All this occurred with three skilled digits still shoved deep inside you, but they'd lost their rhythm now; they were unmoving.

Your head was still craned backward when your eyes connected with Shuri’s erratic ones. She was seething in the doorway, bubbling in her rage next to a rather entertained-looking Riri. You smirked, still riding Naci’s stiff digits as you watched her fume. Shuri clenched and unclenched her fists; there would be a hole in the wall soon if you didn't stop, but you didn't want to.

Beneath you, Naci went limp, eyeballs widened as she gaped anxiously at your ex-girlfriend who looked seconds away from blowing every gasket in her lean body. There was no exchange of words, only movement. Shuri marched to your side just as the terrified girl stuck under your thighs found the courage to pull her stretching digits from within your cunt, hoisting you up and throwing your body over her shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Girl put me the fuck down are you fucking crazy?!”

Shuri held tightly to your ass while she carried you, ignoring your screams and your flailing, dragging you to the kitchen as she tossed an emotionless refrain to Naci. “When I turn around, I expect that you’ll be gone.”

From your incapacitated position on Shuri’s shoulder, you watched Naci scramble for her things, finally regaining motor functions as she slipped out the door hurriedly past Riri, mumbling a soft apology and a promise to text you later. You felt horrible, truly. This was your own doing. Actually, no, this was Shuri’s doing. Because she had no clue how to leave you the fuck alone.

You shot her a murderous scowl once on your feet, smiling smugly when the flashing vein in her forehead caught your eye. “I told you to stop fucking touching me, Shuri.”

“And I told you, to watch how you speak to me. My patience with you sthandwa… Bast it’s beginning to run out,” Hot hands clasped your jaw, tilting your head forcefully, as she gazed into your wild eyes. Pulling away was useless; Shuri used her strength on you now, you realized. A rare occurrence, and this time without your permission. “You're testing me. Not leaving me with many options baby.”

“I'm not your fucking baby. Get your hands off me. Ngoku.” (now)

This fall of tone made her flinch, and your language shift resulted in her obeying you for once. A glint of pride swirled in her deep irises, outshining her agitation, and you lapped it up as you were trained to.

The artistry of Shuri’s transition from enraged to elated would always leave you in awe. It remained an irritating ability but as she did it now, before you, you felt your own annoyance begin to melt away momentarily. “I see you haven't forgotten everything I taught you, Ntomb'am.” (my girl)

“I'm not your girl. Not anymore, so just stop it Shuri. I'm over this, I'm over us — you. I'm cool off all this shit, so just stay out of my love life and leave me the hell alone!”

Hurt stormed her eyes like lightning, and you were almost remorseful. But then Shuri smirked down at you, shoulder pressed into your refrigerator, and she opened that damn mouth of hers to speak words, “So, allowing yourself to be fingered out in the open by someone who lacks relevance is considered having a love life now?”

“I fucking hate you.”

Her lips curved, “Oh, not even you believe that, thando-iwam.”

Ahead of your comeback, Riri strutted past you both during the heat of it all, mumbling a, “Yeah, y’all definitely finna fuck” with a low laugh on her way to her room and you groaned when Shuri’s smirk broadened.

Truthfully you’d forgotten she was still in the room, Shuri’s irritating aura was all-consuming in that way, and her complacent attitude would forever be the worst part of her. You wanted her out of your head, out of your home, and out of your life entirely. But for now, you would settle for out of your face.

“I mean it, Shuri. I'm done.” You trekked to your room after this, with plans of once again bringing about your own orgasm.

•••

Blaring music entranced your hips, and they swayed seductively with a mind of their own. You threw your ass back on Naci, and like a skilled receiver, she caught all of it, administering light spanks.

“I ain't think you was gon fuck with me no more, not after that shit Shuri crazy ass pulled.” Your syllables came out slurred, weighed down by alcohol and the reverberating bass of club music.

When she squeezed your hips, you giggled, allowing the taller woman to whisper her response directly in your ear. “I ain't plan to. Messing with a girl whose ex got superpowers not my gig,” You frowned at her confession, cursing Shuri for ruining yet another good thing for you, but when she spun you to face her, it flipped, morphing into a smirk that matched hers. “But, I seen you tonight, in this tight ass dress, and ion know, guess I couldn't keep my distance.”

“Oh? You fucking with the dress?” You wiggled your waist and she nodded after scanning you up and down, pulling you in.

Her eyes twinkled, matching the lights floating in the ceiling, and that fucking smile did something unlawful to your center. You leaned in, connecting your glossed lips to hers; her kiss back was immediate, and so came that sweltering stare you’d anticipated. Shuri’s glare did nothing to deter you though, because you didn't care if she saw Naci’s grip on your ass as she kissed you. She would just have to watch if she chose to stare.

“She here?” Lips grazed your chest, nipping softly on your cleavage and you whimpered with a chuckle.

“Somewhere.”

Naci cupped your face with one palm, allowing the other to slip under the hem of your leather dress. You were trying to keep your composure, but the feel of Shuri’s eyes heating up as she watched you now was encouraging, so you permitted her continuance. “Damn, you would really let me rub on this pussy right here, huh?”

The low rasp of her voice made you blush, and it was then that you thanked the universe for dark skin, and dark clubs. “Maybe.”

“While I'm down for that, I prefer a bed. A big one. Need space for the shit I got planned for you shawty.”

Your moan was involuntary as her words struck your dampening cunt, her smirk not going unnoticed. “You wanna get out of here then? I got a big ass bed, baby.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, yeah,” She hadn't expected this response, and her surprise was adorable. “For sure, for sure. But I gotta drop my friend off and head back to mine to get my stuff. I can meet you back at yours?”

Your smile answered her question, and she nodded, placing a soft kiss on your lips, letting it linger before grabbing one last handful of your ass. “That's perfect.”

Irritation returned the moment Naci stepped away, and its cause inched closer to you now. You didn't have to turn around, those hands would be on your body soon, those invasive fucking hands. Like your hips, they too thought for themselves, and they did so now, as Shuri snaked them around your midsection from behind. Instinctively, you pushed back on her; you may not have wanted her, but your body knew her touch and it reacted in the way she liked.

“I see you're having fun, sthandwa.” Her breath hit your neck, and you shut your eyes to let it wash over you. So sultry, and that accent was not helping. Your compliance was to be blamed on the alcohol simmering inside you, because if you were sober, the Princess would not be able to hold you as she did now, you wouldn't allow her fingerprints to brush your sides, her lips wouldn't have pressed into the nape of your neck, and you damn sure wouldn't have moaned like you just did.

You bit your lip, swallowing the second cry attempting to leave your throat and you felt her chuckle as she swayed you. “Get off me, Shuri.”

“Don't deny your gorgeous body what she craves, baby.” Lips never left your neck; Shuri spoke each word into your flesh, letting her teeth press in just a bit.

“Get off me. I'm leaving.”

Her lips began their decline, traveling to your shoulders and you shuddered, just as she wanted you to. “You’d really let her fuck you?”

“Jealous it won't be you, Princess?”

Shuri pulled you closer, and you ground into her harder, letting her body get one last taste of what used to be hers. “Quite.”

“Aww, that's too fucking bad, your Majesty. Now get the hell off me.”

You ripped yourself from her hold. The wrong move; you knew this. Shuri slammed your back into the nearby wall almost immediately, remaining silent as she watched your bosom bounce, “This dress always did look good on you.”

“Shuri le–”

“Shush baby,” Her index finger pressed into your pillowy lips and you resisted the urge to suck it. Fuck. “You had your chance to speak, I’ve been allowing you to run that pretty mouth for weeks. Now it’s my turn, okay?”

You nodded, eyes blown and heart racing.

“You know I can't let you leave here to go fuck her right?” The dark tremor of her words went straight to your aching sex, and you cursed your body's eager reaction to her. You should be past this, you were past this, but your dampening folds said otherwise. “I was willing to let you have your fun, even if that meant watching some nobody touch you where I used to. Wasn't I being so fair?”

Another nod, but Shuri did not seem to be satisfied with this one, and she cupped your jaw harshly, fingers pressing deep into your cheeks, bringing forth a low gasp as your mouth popped open. “Sthandwa, when I ask you a question, you know I expect a response with words.

“Stop touching me, Shuri.”

She grinned before letting you go, and she stepped in closer to inhale your scent, shoving the musk of her own cologne straight into your lungs. Shuri's hands found your waist, tugging your hips closer to hers and she grunted under the collision, marveling openly at your ability to stifle your own. It was hard, you could admit that; denying her had been significantly easier when she was holding back.

“You don't want that and you know it.” Her fucking taunting smile, Jesus. The glint of her golden grills blinded you, and you were forced to shift your focus to her hands — her fingers. Gold covered those too, in the form of rings, and her iced-out Patek whirled your mind. Fuck.

You hissed when she slipped her ringed digits up against your bare cunt beneath your dress, pleading eyes boring into hers. “I can fucking smell you,” Shuri's head hit your shoulder as she slid her fingers through your wet folds, and she growled, the sound alone tightening your nipples. “All night I've been smelling you. You can't keep, fuck… you can't keep testing me like this.”

“Shuri…”

“Tell me to stop. Tell me I’m crossing my last line and I’ll leave you alone.” You bit your lip, pondering this. You should tell her to stop, reject her, shove her away. This was the logical thing to do, the healthy thing to do. But fuck, she was in your face, that cologne clogged your senses, the glimmer of her blinged-out teeth hypnotized you, and goddamn it, you wanted her.

When you relaxed into her hold she chuckled knowingly, “There's my girl.”

Shuri placed a capable palm up against the back of your neck, squeezing possessively as she guided you through a sea of warm bodies and out into the nippy night. The press of her fingers remained protective on the walk; you did not protest her guidance, ignoring the sloshing alcohol in the pit of your stomach.

Once inside the car, you crossed your arms, deciding at the last minute to put up some sort of fight. “Shuri, I don't thi–”

“Hush,” And you obeyed without question, falling back into old patterns as your ex-girlfriend snarled at you under ceiling stars, eyes stalking your barely covered body. “Spread your legs.”

You obliged, albeit hesitantly, and her digits climbed the insides of your thighs. “Fuck…” Her obsession with them had not waned over the three months you'd been apart, and you watched her get lost in them now: squeezing and kneading your thick flesh, gasping at the way they jiggled beneath her touch; Shuri loved the color contrast. Dark faded into darkest, and Shuri moaned as she trailed fingertips along the ombréd skin, inching closer and closer to your awaiting cunt.

“Can I keep going?” A genuine question, probably the softest words she'd offer if you were to oblige. But you agreed anyway, granting her permission to go all the way because you didn't want soft, you wanted rough and unyielding. Luckily for you, your Panther specialized in that.

“Three weeks you’ve been denying me, sthandwa. Three weeks of your little games.”

Of course she viewed it that way, because Shuri’s view of reality was so skewed. “Wasn't no games, Shuri. I just ain't want your ass.”

“Your cunt has been humming a different melody, pretty girl.”

Your clit jumped at her words, and she chuckled. “I hate you.”

“Have you convinced yourself that you actually do yet?” Shuri pushed your dress up, and you begrudgingly hoisted your hips to assist her in bunching it around your middle, rolling your eyes in the process. When your pussy was exposed to the warmth of the car’s air, Shuri sighed. “Fuck… let me see her.”

So you turned to face her in the passenger seat, sprawling wide and rewarding her with the prize she thought herself deserving of. You kept watch of her face: her gaping mouth, bulging eyes, that sexy bottom lip enfolded neatly beneath glittery canines. God, she's so fucking sexy, and your arousal intensified the longer your eyes stayed on her.

Shuri’s eyes, however, were not on yours. Big browns glued themselves to the moisture collecting at your core. You knew how wet you were, you felt every trickle of slick as it slid down your fat pussy lips, pooling right under your ass in the seat of Shuri’s Rolls Royce. But Shuri, she saw how drenched you were, she witnessed it now, and she salivated greedily at the sight.

She reached a hand out hesitantly, then pulled it back to herself, making you tilt your head in confusion. “Tell me I can touch her, give me permission.”

Her request was as surprising as it was attractive, and you bit your lip menacingly with a lone smirk. “No.”

“No?” It knocked the wind out of her, which had been your goal, and you only doubled down as you watched her right eye twitch. “You're denying me. Are you confident in this decision?”

Were you confident in this decision? The night was ending with the two of you fucking, there was no questioning this, but your choices now had all the bearing on how ruthless she'd be. But again, you were not looking to be handled with care.

“Beg me.” Shuri's shock was an image you wanted to hang alongside the gorgeous art in your home; priceless; only of its kind. “Beg for my permission, Princess.”

You were treading in murky waters here, you knew it, she knew it, but you would keep yourself afloat for as long as you could.

Shuri sighed, and you grinned over at her; you could tell she was fighting one of her own, and when you quirked your brow, she let it free, gleaming teeth on full display. “You don't play fair, pretty girl.”

“You know this, Princess.”

A hot hand groped your large thigh, nails digging deep into thick flesh as she tried her hardest to keep her fingers away from their desired location and you whimpered. “Please, thando-iwam, let me touch her, let me feel her. Please let me dip a finger inside, she's so soaked for me already, please let me take care of your gorgeous pussy.”

The thick drag of her accent made you wetter, producing a long groan, and you bucked your hips involuntarily, making Shuri smile. “Fuck, Shuri…”

“I take it, that's my permission? I can feel this pretty cunt now?” You nodded, and she shook her head. “You can do better than that. Give me that word I crave.” Her fingernails still indented your leg and she sunk them deeper now, almost deep enough to break skin and you cried out.

“Yes, Shuri! You can touch my pussy!”

She hummed, allowing her palm to flatten, and she began to massage the crescents her fingernails drew in your skin. “Oh… you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into, my baby.”

Shuri reached over, and you braced yourself for the pressure of slim digits at your sopping core, but that sensation never came. Instead, the Princess reached for your purse sitting on the floor, examining the strap intently. “Yes, this'll do,” She mumbled to herself and you remained puzzled. Here you were, legs wide, wet pussy exposed, yet she seemed more interested in the bag you carried than your continued leaking for her.

She examined the chain, trailing her fingers along it, then that smirk you knew all too well made its umpteenth appearance. Shuri broke the strap roughly from the bag, making you gasp. “Shuri what the fuck?! That was fucking expensive!”

“Yeah, I should know, I bought it.” Shuri rolled her eyes, pushing onto her knees and reaching above you. You peered up at her, watching her work in utter confusion as she looped your purse’s strap through the grab handle overhead, securing it tightly. Then she pulled on your left arm, circling the chain around your wrist harshly before repeating the action on your right. Three loops on both arms made sure you stayed in place, and you grumbled, annoyed.

Once back in her seat, she marveled at her handy work, grinning wide as she licked her lips. “You should see how fucking helpless you look right now.”

With your arms suspended above your head, there was little movement you could do. The position turned you on, making the beat in your already throbbing cunt intensify, wanting desperately for Shuri to fucking stick something inside you. Your desperation shone on your face and she feigned a frown when you whined her name.

Shuri fiddled with the lustrous black beads on her wrist, plucking one away with a smirk, and when it flashed red, you knew exactly what you were in for. A slender finger pranced through your watery folds, she dragged it through slowly, never once brushing your clit, but you moaned from her touch all the same. “Baby, pl-ease, I need…”

“In due time, pretty girl.”

Her finger was wrapped in that dangerous tongue of hers soon after, your eyes pitifully following every swirl as Shuri moaned from that flavor she missed so much, then she returned her attention to the bead. That bead, so minuscule, but its power? Unrivaled.

You weren't ready for it.

Shuri pressed it into your clit anyway, tapping her wrists to begin the pulsations before starting the car, and you screamed. “God!”

•••

“Sh-Shuri, please! Fuck! Oh my god!” Your hips jerked as you shook under the vibrating bead stuck to your clit. Your juices were splashing everywhere, moans bellowing out your throat while Shuri drove leisurely down the street. “Oh fuck! Oooh please!”

The sensation had you flying, your lips were chapped and you thrashed, legs and tits bouncing frantically. She remained unbothered by your screams though, keeping her eyes on the road as you wailed beside her, defenseless against her creation. “Fuck!” Your arms were tired and sore, the metal from the purse strap bruising your wrists as you dangled hopelessly in the passenger seat. Your orgasm came knocking, and it was a violent rap, one your curling toes could not ignore.

“Don't fucking come on my seat.” She didn't look at you, though you could tell she wanted to. Shuri kept her left hand on the wheel, scratching her sharp jawline swiftly before letting the corner of her mouth twitch.

“Drif-faster!” It was barely a word, though it seemed to register, and she smirked fully now.

Her eyes met yours for the first time in fifteen minutes and you could've sworn they softened a little, but the look didn't last long; her menacing gleam returned and she tapped her wrist, upping the speed of the small ball demolishing your used bud. “Faster right? That's what you said?”

You couldn't react, couldn't respond because all your focus lay with containing your release to make her happy, and it was beyond difficult. The sounds of your drenched pussy kept climbing and your screams weren't far behind.

“I-I h-hate y-ou! H-hate you sooo fu-cking much!” Your shaking was uncontrollable, and Shuri laughed, reaching over to shove two digits deep into your seeping cunt. Similarly to her driving, her pumps were slow, barely scratching the itch you had, and it only fueled your anger. Fuck her, honestly.

“Yeah, keep saying that baby, tell me how much you fucking hate me. Getting me so wet.” She chuckled again, as she came to a complete stop at a yellow light. Demonic bitch. You imagined kicking her, but the sick fuck would probably enjoy it.

You were whining, on the verge of tears almost, the buzzing bead drilling deeper into your clit, and your hole tightened around Shuri's fingers. “I h-hate you!” You spared a glance down at your wet core, letting yourself become entranced with the way tattooed fingers fucked you as your creamy pussy wept around them.

Your head was spinning, and you slammed your eyes shut, biting your lip as you allowed your hips to rut into Shuri’s fingers.

“Come. I dare you.”

You didn't care, you couldn't hold it anymore. The pleasure was too much, and it had you reeling, all thoughts drifting to how badly you wanted — needed to frolic with the stars, you needed to come and you were going to. Right on her coaxing fingers, right on her already dampened seat. And you did, sucking her digits in deeper with your willful clench, and you screamed. You squirted, sprayed everything in the front seat as she fucked you through it, your body swinging from side to side.

When you opened your eyes you tried adjusting your blurred vision, and you took in your surroundings. You were still heaving, the bead still buzzing, but the tempo was softer now, massaging almost, and you sighed once you realized you were home.

“You really don't know how to follow instructions, huh?” Shuri’s drawl was but an echo as it bounced around your mind, making you loopier.

“Inside?” It was the only word on your tongue, and you hoped that she understood what you were asking.

Shuri smiled, easing her digits from your dribbling pussy with care, but she left the Kimoyo bead in place and you grunted. “Before we go in sthandwa, I need to know if you remember our safe words.”

You awarded her a weak nod, hoping it would suffice, but Shuri wanted to hear your shaky words. In part because she needed to know the two of you were on the same page, but also because she wanted to get off on your inability to speak without stuttering. “Three n-noble g-gasses cause y-you're a n-nerd.”

This made her chuckle, and she beamed over at your spent body, still dangling, still helpless as you sat in your mess, your black dress streaked with your cum. “You remember which ones, pretty?”

“Neon, good o-or keep g-oing. Xenon, slow down or b-break. Krypton, s-stop.”

“Good girl.”

You wanted to return her weak smile, but you opted for a scowl instead, earning yet another laugh from her. “N-Nerd.”

“I’d fuck you right here, just like that with those hands out of the way. Roll the windows down and open all the doors so the entire neighborhood can hear just how pitiful you are when I'm inside you. But, that wouldn't be fair, would it?”

Your body scorched at the thought of Shuri's threat; she wasn't bluffing. Her palm gripped your face again, but this time you leaned into it, granting yourself permission to bask in it like you wanted to. Shuri’s touch was addicting, regardless of its harshness, and you let yourself relax into the feel of fingers digging into your dimples, unashamed.

“I-Inside?” You asked again, and her smile was enough to set you on fire as you peered at her through hooded eyes.

“Yeah, we're going inside now pretty girl.” Shuri took one last look at your restrained form and the cum staining your thighs, biting her lip as her eyes found the low humming bead still attached to your tired cunt. Though its intensity had lessened, the continued vibrations were still too much, and you secretly wished she would rescue you from its assault, but you knew better.

Sleep spoke to you while you hung there breathless, and you felt inclined to listen as you tugged pointlessly on your tied-up wrists. Shuri sucked on her fingers as she watched you wiggle across from her, that satisfied little smile only served to infuriate you. You had not missed her games. She knew how badly you wanted her right now, and her wicked mind was content to watch you unravel.

There was a slow build in the pit of your stomach, stacking and stacking; another orgasm underway, but you were fighting it. “Sh-Shuri…”

“Alright.” She grinned, unbuckling her seatbelt and exiting the car. She was on your side in milliseconds, pulling the door open and she spun you, making you wince from the slight pain on your wrists. She did nothing to shield your body from passersby as she reached to untie you, and you whined. “You're a mess.”

You were, and you knew once you crossed the threshold of your apartment, you would only get messier. Loving lips kissed your blemished wrists tenderly once you were freed, your eyes finding hers immediately, wanting nothing more than to witness the care floating inside them, and you smiled at her.

“Pretty.” Her whisper shook you, and your heartbeat came alive, Shuri's knowing smirk alerting you that she was privy to its thump. “Can you stand?”

She allowed your nod this time, placing her palm on your back to steady you as your heels hit the concrete. You wobbled, but that was expected, and Shuri guided you inside slowly.

Thinking you were in the clear was a childish belief, one you fell victim to as you absorbed Shuri's touch. Once you stepped onto the elevator, all feelings of warm and fuzzy evaporated the second those doors slid shut.

“Shuri fuck!” The buzzing between your thighs returned and it came back stronger than before. You hadn't even seen her toy with her wrist. Fuck ass bitch, there was a special place carved in hell for her, this you were sure of. Your clit screamed out to you, begging you for relief as you listened to the sloshing happening at your core, slick trickling down your thighs, but you had none to offer. Your only defense was squatting down in the elevator with your hand gripping the railing.

“Oooh! Shu-ri, fuck you! F-Fuck you!”

Her back was to you, and you watched her shoulders rise with her words, “I'm so turned on right now by the sound and smell of you, I just might let you.”

“And you better not come.”

It was too late, you were already wailing, falling to your knees as a second flood came washing through you on the elevator floor. “Fuck! Shit oh my god, Shuri I'm fucking coming, I c-can't!”

She shook her head, passing a glance back at you only briefly before stepping off when the doors opened on your floor. “Walk.”

It was the only word you needed, it got you on your feet with zero assistance, and you staggered out of the elevator behind your ex, leaving a puddle of your release behind without a care. You were on her leash again, fully now, the thing you’d been running from for three weeks. But you didn't care anymore, you needed her in every way imaginable, and you would have her.

•••

You watched Shuri nervously from where you stood in the doorway as she checked herself out in the closet mirror, grinning wide and appreciating the shiny embellishments in her mouth. She twisted slightly in the swivel chair, but not once had she taken her eyes off her reflection.

Shuri was aware of her attractiveness. On any other person this behavior would be gag-inducing, but seeing the Princess of Wakanda salivate over herself before you now made your thumping clit jump under the slowing tremors of the toy clinging to it.

You were awaiting further instruction, too afraid to make a move without your Panther’s say. And Shuri used this to her advantage. She knew you’d stand there all night untouched if she forced you to, and you cursed your easy way of falling back in line for her.

“Khulula.” (take it off) There was no time wasted in between the toss of her command, and you ridded your body of your ruined dress, freeing your breasts and ass from confinement. When it hit the floor, Shuri's hot eyes found your bare skin from where she sat, their gaze predatory.

“Fuck, you're so sexy,” She sucked in her bottom lip, and you blushed under the heat of her compliment. “Can't believe I stayed away from you for three weeks.”

“Technically you didn't. You were al–”

That index finger of hers went up, clipping your sentence and shutting you up. “Crawl to me, sthandwa.”

It was automatic, your compliance, and you were on your knees, creeping slowly towards the Princess. Your mind and body never lost that need to obey, and they reflected this now, as you kneeled before her with her strong palm around your throat. She clutched your neck, squeezing softly and you let yourself get caught up in your dwindling oxygen flow.

“You look good on your knees for me.” She tightened her hold on your throat, leaning in to kiss you sloppily, and you whined into her mouth, chasing after the press of tender lips. Your desperation made her chuckle, and Shuri pulled away on purpose. “You want me to kiss you again?”

“Y-Yes Panther.”

The address made her grin widen; spitting it out was muscle memory, and Shuri graciously granted your wish. This kiss was harder, driven by her hunger for you and she hoisted you up by your throat, spreading her legs as she instructed you to sit between them in the chair. You pressed into her chest immediately, soaking up the vibrations of her laughter as you allowed her to spin the both of you to face the mirror.

“Look at yourself, baby” She pointed to your reflection and your eyes met in the glass. “You see how sexy this body is? Hmm?

A shy smile tugged on your lips, and you rolled your eyes. You knew Shuri would be expecting an answer though, and the way she squeezed tighter on your throat was the only warning you received. Her eyes were on yours as she spoke again, their intensity making you shrink a little, “Do you see how sexy you look right now? Answer me.”

“Mhmm.”

The pressure on your throat increased. “Not good enough, do better. Look at yourself and tell me how sexy you are.”

“S-So sexy. I’m so sexy.”

Her palm traveled up your neck eagerly and she moaned into your ear at the sound of your words, letting her ringed fingers clutch your face harshly. “Fuck… say it again.”

“I’m so sexy.”

Shuri nodded, dragging her digits down your face as she watched you twitch beneath their tingle, agreeing wholeheartedly with your statement. “Yes. You are.” Her hips bucked into your bare back now and you couldn’t help but giggle under the sensation.

Her squeeze on your face only grew in strain, her rings diving deep into your flesh and you winced under the ache. The sound caught Shuri’s attention, and she let you go, admiring the small trickle of blood brought about by her gold jewelry.

“Oh… thando-iwam, look what I’ve done to this pretty face. Will you forgive me?” Her grills came out to play, blinding you as that maniacal grin formed on her mouth; Shuri's plea for absolution was not sincere.

The pad of her thumb brushed the spot, sweeping the crimson droplet as one would a tear, and she locked eyes with you in the mirror, hoisting her finger to those gorgeous lips, and she sucked — swallowing your bright blood with a deep moan.

Witnessing this act, its intimacy, was enough to shove you straight into another release. “Panther, I’m gonna c-come again!”

Shuri smiled, licking her red-stained lips in the mirror before tapping your legs, and they sprang open. She wasted no time pulling the bead away, making you sigh in relief.

“Give me a word baby, where are you?”

“Neon.”

“Good fucking girl.” You watched as her inked digits dug into your depths, pulling a cry out of you when she nudged that special spot. Shuri fucked your cunt with ferocity, using her free hand to pull on your erect nipple.

You were shaking, spreading your legs wider in the chair as you watched those skilled fingers move in and out of your hungry hole. “Faster baby, faster! Fuck me faster!”

“You see how perfectly my fingers fit in this pretty pussy? You see how easily they slip in and out? She knows me. She missed me.” She bit your neck and you screamed, jolting forward into her thrusts as you nodded.

“Yes, Panther! She missed you! Keep fucking her like that, just like that Panther oh my god!”

She scissored those foul fingers inside you, pressing deeper into your g-spot with each jab and her grip returned to your throat, craning it downward to make you watch your cunt stretch around her. “Look at your pussy. Look at how she's coating my fingers fuck, you see?”

“Yes, Panther!”

“She can't make you feel like this. This pussy isn't hers. I'm the only one allowed in here, yeva?” (are we clear) You nodded, barely aware of who Shuri was referring to, but she craved a yes, and you were eager to offer it up.

She rammed into you, shutting her eyes as she listened to your unending squishing for her, your wetness leaking all over both of your bodies. Her thumb found your clit and she flicked it with precision, earning loud cries from you. “Keep doing that baby, just like that!”

Your poor clit; you could not aid her. “Tell me how much you hate me. Say it for me!”

“I fucking hate you, god I hate you so much! Ooh shit, I h-hate you!”

Her digits refused to relent, and Shuri moaned your name as she let her eyes stay trained on how well she drilled you with only fingers, smirking every time you clamped around them. “That's it, baby, make that big mess for me. Come hard around my fingers.”

“S-So close for you Panther, make me fucking come! Make this pussy cream for you baby, so messy for you!”

Your squelching cunt remained Shuri's favorite tune, and she listened now, looping the sound. If her thrusts into your back were any indication, she too, was on the verge of orgasm.

“My messy baby. Oh look at that, look at that cunt get fucked!” She kissed your neck, twitching aimlessly underneath you.

“Panther I’m gonna, I'm- fuck oh I'm coming, I'm coming baby shit!”

Your scream cracked as it floated out of your throat and into the air, causing you to go limp in Shuri’s embrace. She quivered, eyes shut tight, fingers still working your pussy. This wouldn't do. “Shuri, open your eyes.”

She bucked under you still, but those eyes remained closed as she grunted lowly. “Open those eyes baby, let me see them.”

Your voice was but a cool breeze as it whisked her lids open and she stared deeply into your soul as she permitted her orgasm to hit. “Bast! Y-You're in my head, got me so crazy I’m gonna come for you sthandwa, shit! D-Didn't even need to t-touch me fuck!”

“Do it for me, Panther. Wanna make my Panther come so hard in those fucking jeans.”

She cupped large handfuls of your breasts, tweaking each nipple as her eyes burned holes into your own in the mirror before you, jutting her hips tirelessly to get herself off. “Say it again.”

“I fucking hate you, Shuri.”

And those were the words to send her all the way. She moaned with wild exuberance, writhing in the chair as her climax engulfed her, never once losing your gaze. Shuri's mouth hung agape and her breathing hitched, warm air hitting your neck as she sank her teeth deep into your flesh as a means to ground herself.

It was the hottest thing you'd ever seen, largely because it’d never happened before, not this way around, and the pair of you laughed, allowing yourselves a moment to slowly come down from your highs.

“Where are you, baby?” She kissed her teeth marks and you shuddered.

“Neon still. Need more.”

Shuri chuckled, hugging your tired body close as she rocked you in the chair, “Tell me what you need. Maybe I’ll reward you for being so good.”

“Wanna taste you.”

She raised a brow, clearly surprised by your shameless request. “Oh?”

“Please can I taste you, Panther?”

•••

“Guqa Ngamadol.” (kneel)

You waited, palms face down on your bent knees with Shuri's cum-filled cunt looming above you.

“Ready?” An eager nod bobbed your head as you let your eyes travel the length of lean legs, watching as Shuri lowered herself slowly onto your face, and she sighed breathily the second lips covered her clit.

Immediately, she fisted your tight coils forcefully, “Yess baby. Bast!” You lapped her up, round eyes watching her abs quiver with each moan she produced for you, and you hummed in enjoyment of her flavor.

“Tell me how good I fucking taste baby!”

“So fucking good, Panther, missed your pussy so much!”

She ground into your lips with a little whine, though she tried to eat it before you could notice. Panther speed evaded her just this once, and you were grateful for it as you nestled deeper into her pussy with your tongue, inhaling sharply. Her hole was expecting you, permitting you to slip in with ease, accepting your light thrusts as Shuri tensed above you.

She was tugging your hair, pushing her cunt harder against your mouth and her cries told you she was near. You’d be drowning in her release soon, and the thought caused you to squeeze your legs together. She pushed harder into your face, smearing her cum, and you returned your attention to her clit.

“You look so sexy down there, wanna keep you on the ground until your knees fucking hurt,” She ripped your mouth away from her sopping center and you whined, pouting up at her. “Would you like that? To eat my pussy until those knees can't take it anymore?”

“Yes, Panther.” Her clit pulled you in like a magnet and soon you were latched to it again: licking, sucking, slurping everything Shuri gave you. Her pussy was addicting like that, one taste and you wanted to know nothing else.

Shuri rode your face now, and you knew what that meant. Your fingernails drilled into the delicate meat of her thighs and you upped your suction.

“Fuck! I'm close, sthandwa! Tell me again, tell me how much you hate me so I can come for you!”

“God I hate you! So fucking much!” You mumbled it into her pussy, shoving your tongue deeper, and Shuri’s hole locked you in place. You grinned, awaiting that scream you knew was underway and when it hit, Shuri's entire body convulsed above you.

“Shit! Shit! You're pulling it out of me pretty girl, just like that! Pull it all the way out, fuck!” And she collapsed onto her mattress, exhaling long and deep. “Come let me taste myself on your lips, baby.”

You scaled the bed, climbing up to pull her in for a long filthy kiss, and Shuri spent extra time sucking your tongue, cleaning the lastings of her release off your face. “I taste so damn good, shit.”

You giggled, pecking her again. “Yeah.”

“Your turn.” And she was on her knees, bouncing back instantly as she tapped your large thighs until you opened up with a squish, your messy pussy fluttering like a butterfly below her. “Oh… look at that.”

A slender finger found your folds ahead of her mouth, and you groaned, receiving a scolding brow raise from your ex-girlfriend.

She trailed kisses down your thighs, nibbling on your cellulite as she inched closer to where you needed her most. But her lips never met your cum-coated ones, she dodged them entirely, pressing her mouth into your stomach and hips instead. “Shuri…”

“Be fucking patient.” She spanked your pussy, sending droplets of your many orgasms flying before sinking her teeth into your abdomen as punishment.

Shuri leaned down, dipping her tongue into your ocean teasingly with a smirk that you felt, and a quick peck was placed on your clit.

“Evil, evil little cat.” You grumbled, and she laughed into your pussy.

Finally, in sank her tongue, long and wet, and your cry was angelic. Shuri ate your pussy delicately, licking every fold with care as she inched to your clit. Once it was in her mouth, she siphoned the weary bud, easing you into it. “Such a pretty pussy.”

Her tongue swiveled around your achy bud; you were so sore, so sensitive, but you needed more of her mouth. Her slurping increased in speed and ferocity, and soon you were thrashing, gripping the sheets as your Panther ate you out. Your body's defense to the sensation was to squeeze her head with your thighs, a feeling Shuri enjoyed.

There was a low laugh as you sealed her head in place, and Shuri sent that dangerous tongue deep into your leaking entrance as you tugged fistfuls of her hair. “Devour me like I'm your fucking prey, Panther!”

She moaned into your most delicate with a nod, “Baptize me in these thick thighs baby! Smother me!”

“Lap me up, you eat this pussy so good Panther. Fuck! Keep your tongue right there, r-right there!” You were close again, battling that familiar build pushing its way through your core, pulling on every muscle you had. You saw stars, mind spinning as you squeezed her head and yanked her curls. “I'm coming for you, Panther! Coming all over that face! Suck this fucking pussy! This your pussy!”

“My fucking pussy!” She latched onto your clit, digging her hips into the sheets violently with desperate moans. Something inside you cracked permanently with this orgasm. You screamed her name, grinding your cunt into her soaked face as you sucked in your last breath. Damp white sheets tangled around your body as you kicked your feet with Shuri still suckling you through your bone-rattling climax. You whined, needing desperately for her to stop, but not wanting to disappoint her.

When she finally came up for air, she was steeped in your cum, droplets of your wetness clinging to her curls. Shuri smiled at you, grills gleaming and you shied away. “I can't wait to fuck you stupid, pretty girl.”

•••

Shuri left no room for acclimation. It’d been months since she stretched your tight walls, and the gracious thing in this circumstance would be to allow you to adjust to the size of her girthy strap. But what was grace in the eyes of the Princess? Did she believe you deserved it?

Your answer to these questions lay in the way she plowed you mercilessly from behind. Shuri did not care, and she fucked you hard, drilling that sentiment into your dribbling pussy.

“Fu-ck P-anther!”

Her strap grazed your walls, and you felt every dent, every divot as she pulled out just to slam back in. Your cunt sobbed, widening with every thrust of the toy destroying your hole. The sensation it brought forth, one that tightened your chest; it made your mind blank as you readily accepted all of her. “Listen to that pussy baby. You're so pathetic, can't help getting this wet for me, huh?”

Shuri pushed into you, not waiting for a response as she grasped your wild curls, yanking your neck up forcibly. The action jarred you, and you gasped, staring helplessly at the image of her working you from the back in the mirror before you. “Look at that face. See how sexy you look when you get fucked?”

You couldn't respond, too busy gurgling your saliva as she rammed into your cervix without a care.

“Answer me when I fucking speak to you, pretty girl. Look at yourself, do you see why I’m so addicted to staring at you when I'm buried deep in this perfect cunt?”

“Y-Yes! Panther! So sexy!”

Your pussy pulled Shuri’s dick in, claiming the curved member as her own, and you took a long hard look at your gyrating body in the reflective surface. Gone was the freshness of your coils, now they laid damp on your sweaty forehead, moving only when Shuri fucked into you hard. Your parted lips were swollen as you screamed for her, eyes blown to bits, and you struggled terribly to keep them open. Your tits jumped under each of Shuri's movements, and that’s where you found her eyes in the mirror.

Their bounce hypnotized her now, each grunt she expelled brought out by your tight squeeze on her cock and the vision of your pointed nipples, no doubt with the fantasy of nibbling on them floating around her scattered brain.

God, you’d missed watching how caught up in your body Shuri got when she filled your tight cunt with her veiny strap. You were a dream to her, and she was shameless in letting that show.

“Listen to that cunt, she's screaming for me, baby. So damn wet and pitiful.”

“P-anther!”

A hard slap came down on your ass, and you watched the smack shake your entire body. Damn that strength of hers, the pain it came with watering your eyes, and you tried your hardest not to let them spill, knowing she'd only make fun of you, but when her palm collided with your heated skin once more, stinging the same spot, you couldn't help it.

“You're crying, baby? Are those tears?”

She drilled you, smashing into your g-spot so hard, you heard a low crack in your spine as you arched for her.

“Shut up,” A sweet symphony when slicked in Shuri's accent, though its demand was anything but. “All I wanna hear is this wet pussy as I dive into you. Can you do that? Can you shut up for me?”

You nodded, biting your lip as your tears rolled into your mouth to swim with your spit. You fixated on her face, and it contorted as she absorbed your clench, each dive into your deepness tugging on her climax.

“Listen to that, fuck! Yeah, let that pussy do the talking pretty girl!”

You were drooling, eyes rolling back in your mind every time Shuri thrusted into you. Your muscles ached horribly, but your core seemed fond of its little dance with Shuri's strap, sucking her in, spitting her out, and she was entranced by it. Whenever your eyes found themselves opened, you'd catch her staring at the space where her hips connected to your ass cheeks, grinning and reveling in the sound of squelching pussy and slapping skin.

You were close again: body bubbling in that simmering pot of ecstasy, thighs wobbling as an indicator to your ex. “Ooh not yet baby, the show is just about to start.”

You didn't make a sound, per her instruction, choosing to hone in on your noisy slickness as you chomped on your inner cheek.

“Yo, the door was open so I ju–” Delirium did not bar your recognition of familiarity. This voice was one you knew: Naci. She stood frozen in the doorway, clutching her backpack, shock and hurt covering that pretty face, and all you wanted to do was shrivel up.

Shuri’s plans differed from your own, however. She fisted your hair, turning your neck to face Naci who still stood unmoving, that smirk evident in her voice, “Oh, thando-iwam, look who it is. Natty was it? Say hi to Natty baby.” She kept fucking you through your heavy tears.

"H-Hi N-Natty." A fractured greeting falling from a fractured throat as Shuri knocked into you.

“You see how easy it was for me to slut her out, Natty? Look at her, falling apart all around me.” Her thrusts dug deep, and you realized this whole time she'd been holding back. That first plow in front of Naci carved a hole in your throat, and your mewls were back, filling the room with every evil rut of Shuri's devilish hips.

She tightened her hold on your hair, yanking ruthlessly as she rammed into your aching sex amidst your broken screams, “Tell Natty who's fucking you this good, baby.”

You were a babbling mess: face wet with tears and spit, words evading you, unconsciousness knocking on your open door. Your body heated around Shuri, and she took your lack of response as disobedience. An open palm found your ass again, and you yelped. “Fucking tell her.”

“Y-You panther!” You locked eyes in the mirror and she tutted.

“No,” She bucked into your cunt, splashing your wetness. “Don’t tell me, tell her. Use that mouth you like to run so much.”

You hesitated, obviously, but that need to please was on fire now, and you turned to face Naci as Shuri continued drilling your drooling pussy from behind. “S-Shuri fucks me s-so good!”

“Again!”

You gripped the sheets; you'd be coming soon. “Shuri fucks me so good! Only her!”

“Whose dick do you want?”

You were mortified, embarrassment clinging to you like the cum on your skin, “Only yours baby, nobody can fuck me like my Panther!”

This pleased Shuri, and her thrusts became loving. Each hip jolt nudged your spongy area softly, luring your orgasm to the forefront, and you let it collect in your depths, preparing for the spread of bliss. “Oh god! Don't Stop panther, don't fucking stop, fuck this fucking pussy oh my god!”

“Yeah, you take me so fucking well. That's my good girl. My good fucking girl.” She was grunting, groaning louder as she railed your tired hole and your pussy drank her in like the greedy little thing she was.

“I'm your good girl!” You exploded then, pleasure coating and massaging your sore muscles as you collapsed at the foot of the bed, barely clinging to reality.

Shuri chuckled darkly, “You hear that Natty? She's mine. See your way out please so I can return all my focus to my girl, and leave the door open. Need everyone in this damn building to know who she fucking belongs to.”

There was shuffling, quick footsteps out of the room, and you sighed, allowing the tension and shame to leave your body as Shuri gripped your hips, pulling you back on her large cock over and over.

“S-She g-one?”

She laughed, pulling out to slap the strap on your sore clit before diving back in. “Yeah, baby, she’s gone. Are you okay, talk to me?”

“Xenon.”

•••

“Put me inside you.” You laid on your back, staring up at her longingly as you wrapped anxious fingers around her strap, positioning it at your entrance. Shuri pressed into you; slow; steady, and the heat of your core swallowed her thickness inch by fucking inch as her jeweled canines punctured your shoulder.

“Use my pussy, Panther!”

Her tongue found your nipples, sucking pleasantly, biting just enough to pull a small whimper out of you, and she moved to the other, her swirling tongue sending tremors straight to your clit. “Relax, pretty. It's just us now.”

Her coos worked to soothe you, and you calmed around her, relinquishing your spent body to Shuri’s languid thrusts. “That's it. Let me take care of you. Wrap your legs around me, let me get deeper.”

Your ankles locked around her waist, and the way she rocked into you like you were her most precious thing had your sobs tumbling from your swollen mouth. Your puzzle was complete with Shuri inside you. You’d found that missing piece hiding underneath the couch cushions, and finally pushing it in place was euphoric.

“So good. Your p-pussy is s-soo good, sthandwa.” She nuzzled into your neck, very obviously near her edge as she stroked you long and deep.

Lips met her damp face, and she looked into you. “W-Want to fill you up, want to mark you.”

You nodded, “Mark me, Panther. Fill me. Claim me.”

She smirked, diving her dribbling tip deeper into your bundle of nerves, “You going to say it for me? Say it for me so I can paint your precious walls with my cum baby.”

You waited a beat, no words, just your breathless moans, and Shuri’s tired grunts. You grabbed her face, mimicking her favorite way of capturing your attention, getting lost in those fucked out eyes of hers as you opened your mouth, “I l-love you, Shuri!”

Her surprise came instantly, and so did her nut. “Oh fuck! Oh, fuck I’m coming so deep inside you baby! Shit!”

Shuri’s thick seed spurted into you through the tip of her strap, a familiar feeling, one you missed. And it made itself one you were likely to chase forever, you thought, as you succumbed to your own rattling release, spasming under your Panther with a low exhale.

She didn't respond to your confession, choosing to knock her hips harder into yours as she spilled her release into your already stuffed hole, “Oh baby, you see how creamy I just made your pussy? Look at that big mess we just made!”

“So fucking sexy panther, my pussy was made for you to fill!” Your low babbles made Shuri chuckle with each of her continued thrusts, they were sloppier now, less practiced, but she showed no signs of relenting.

Honestly, you needed a break, that previously established safe word frolicking tauntingly on your tongue. Unfortunately, though, your desire to please the Panther bloomed stronger than any other want or need forming inside you, so you let her keep fucking you through it.

Shuri pulled out, slapping the tip hard against your sensitive clit, and the action made you eat your sigh of relief. She no longer took up space inside your walls, which you appreciated, but gone was her previous kindness. “I bet if I placed my mouth back on this filthy swollen cunt you'll unravel completely. Am I correct?”

You gave her a broken hum, but it wasn't what she wanted. “Pretty girl, where's my answer?” A harder slap came down on your center, and you listened to the loud squelch created by the toy’s contact with your skin right before she slid back in.

“C-Cant.” Was all you saw yourself able to give her, and she let the fractured word suffice.

Shuri's lips pressed into your bruised neck, and you exhaled from the softness, though she still drilled into you as she spoke. “Do you want me to stop? Give me a word baby.”

“Krypton.”

Her thrusts came to a halt, and she eased out of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and tilting your weak body to face her in the sheets.

“You gon make me say it again ain't you?” The way Shuri undressed your existing nakedness now made you ponder a query: Was it possible to exist and harbor genuine hatred for this Princess? Lying to yourself took energy, of which you had none now, so you accepted what you knew to be true.

She nodded, and you gave her a tired grin, “I fucking love you, Shuri.”

“I know.” She kissed you, burning you with her hot, love-stained lips and you let yourself fall again — into her and into everything that made her.

[allthegothihopgirls]

Hc that Jason really resonated with Frankenstein’s monster after he came back from the dead and his terrorization of Bruce is, in part, inspired by the monsters terrorization of Victor

ok i'm gonna preface this by saying what the fuck anon (/pos). i've been talking about this concept since it popped into my inbox i'm actually OBSESSED.

clawing at the insides of my enclosure foaming at the mouth etc etc

anyways, 1000% YES. the whole thing of jason being put back together not only at the hands of another, but also in a way which is so so unfamiliar to the him he knew before death, soooo extremely frankenstein's monster-coded.

both brought to life by impossible circumstances, and neither feel as though they own their autonomy. searching for some kind of redemption, needing to feel complete or avenged.

both having a sense of justice, shunned by society, one which doesn't earn them praise but instead punishment and disgust. both resenting the decisions of their creators/mentors. torn between worlds, neither of which they feel accepted in. oh my GOD.

i'm a huge fan of the whole idea of jason coming back and feeling displaced and in an entirely foreign body, and that's just oh so frankenstein's monster..

like IMAGINE that being his frame of reference for his feelings. put together what feels like piece by piece, messily, with only second-hand scraps. all with no regard for the person he was before, only with the intentions of being 'repurposed'.. AHHHHH

(as well as the fact that it's ALL mental for jason, he comes back 'perfect', unscathed and replenished. he has no physical justification for feeling the way he does, second-hand and hand-sewn. his feeling of 'monstrosity' stems from elsewhere; the feeling he gets walking around in this body which is simply not his, or the look in bruce's eyes when he sees him again for the first time, seeing a monster not a son.)

also the conscious knowing that his make-up is no longer his own, he's composed of parts which are unrecognisable to his old body, the one he owned and hand-carved through age. having to walk through days, feeling his actions as his own, but having a body which warps the intent behind them to all onlookers.

god imagine, blaming your creator for your fate, and needing the answers of your inadequacy to come from him himself.. and no other source can explain your imperfection in a way you can accept, it has to be him. jason NEEDS bruce's validation, to confirm or deny that he is irredeemable and a lost cause.

as much as i don't think jason would take pride in relating so much to frankenstein's monster, it's definitely a lingering thought in the back of his mind, something that determines his own story and outcomes.

he thinks of him when he loses control, and knows that he can't use it to justify the way he acted. he cannot tell the monster that his actions were okay, and that the people just did not understand, although as much as he wants to.. because he knows that isn't the case. he knows the monster was always a monster, and grows to feel the same way about himself.

he resents the way he acts, because all he sees is the monster. the one who acts according to his moral compass, but is always wrong. always clouded by his monstrosity. he decides he really should never trust himself or his intuition, because it's always disgusting and ugly, and even he'll be able to look back in retrospect and be repulsed by the way he carried himself, and not hate the way everyone punished him for it.

he wants so desperately to get himself back, morph back into the boy who knew his rights and wrongs and was never looked at funnily for acting how any normal person would. but the only part of his past self that still exists is in his mind, he wants to rip it out and show people that it's still him inside of there, but he simply can't do that.

his body changed without his permission, he never asked to be an abomination, a scientifical anomaly. he wants to scream about how it's not his fault, how he's not what the world paints him to be. how he can just be normal. but he's never really going to feel that way, as long as his mind and body remain two separate entities at war.

i feel like he clings onto the humanity of frankenstein's monster, and uses him as an anchor, something that shows him it's possible to remain acceptable and human.

i also think he analyses the character oh so deeply, to try and latch onto all the relatability he can find, the things he doesn't get from real people.

maybe he has a copy of the book, annotated in such a personal way. perhaps someone else stumbles upon it, and is just so distraught by the conclusions drawn from the scribbles and highlights, the way jason seems to view himself.

the way that although jason's always seen himself like the monster, unloveable and unacceptable, everyone else was always ready to accept him.

that maybe the real downfall of jason and frankenstein's monster is that the way they viewed themselves was too focused on the displacement they felt, assuming automatically that everyone else must feel the same way about them, if not worse. not taking the moment to let people learn to love them all over again.

anyways, unreliable narrators post resurrection!jason todd and frankenstein's monster, who were always seen with at least an ounce of humanity, but were both overridden by self-hatred and the disgust of their form, which led them to total exile and isolation.

[sapphire-weapon]

So. Here's my thing.

In OG, Cloud couldn't have killed Sephiroth without Rufus. Rufus's call to move the cannon from Junon to Midgar -- as well as his relentless fight against Sephiroth and the Weapons -- resulted in the destruction of the barrier around the North Crater.

And in Advent Children, even though there is no more Shinra, Rufus still has the Turks recover Jenova's head -- which Rufus himself keeps safe on his person, until he personally destroys it.

In the novella The Kids Are Alright (written by Kazushige Nojima, who's writing the remake series), Rufus says:

"My father [...] invested most of [the immense fortune and power he'd gained] into new fields – on a massive scale, and without ethics. And one of those was the research of, and experimentation on, Jenova. Eventually this gave birth to a monster named Sephiroth. [...] My father took his leave from this stage early on, abandoning those of us left behind to suffer the nightmares in his wake. I am not my father. I will bring it to an end, once and for all."

Rufus is a real threat to Sephiroth.

That's why, at the end of Remake, the Whispers make it a point to draw Rufus's attention to the highway so that he can see the bullshittery going on around Sephiroth so that he focuses on that instead of getting lost in the political sauce.

And so when Rufus says during the ending of Rebirth: "I'm onto you. This war's nothing but a ploy to distract me from Sephiroth." and Sephiroth cops to it, this is an acknowledgement of that threat.

So, like. Rufus's motivations are not unclear to me. He used the name Sarruf, funded the Wutai resistance in order to depose his father, and then, once he was in office, saw the existential threat that Sephiroth posed and shifted his attention to that -- partially because he feels a responsibility to as the president of the fucking world, and partially just as a "fuck you" to his dad.

So why not just kill him? Why distract him with a war when you could just fucking kill him?

It made sense why Kadaj never killed Rufus in AC -- he wanted Jenova's head, and Rufus was the only one who knew where it was, so Kadaj couldn't just kill him outright.

But that's not an issue here. So why doesn't Sephiroth just kill him?

This is where the whole "multiverse" meta aspect of the plot completely fucking breaks down, because like -- it's framed, during that ending scene, that Sephiroth is keeping Rufus alive because he believes that Rufus will actually lead him to the promised land, but like

Not only is that weird because, in OG, it's the other way around, and Rufus follows Sephiroth thinking that he'll lead him to the promised land -- but it's weird because Sephiroth's clearly been peeking at the OG script, and he follows Aeris through realities and tells her to accept her fate because he knows she has to die because that's what the OG script says, but like

In that case, wouldn't he also know that the promised land doesn't really exist and/or is either the North Crater or Midgar it's not really clear?

And how the fuck is a war with Wutai going to allow Rufus to stumble on the promised land? He'll be busy fighting a war.

And how the fuck is he going to fight that war in the first place?! HE'S THE HEAD OF THE ARMY OF BOTH SIDES

AND SEPHIROTH KNOWS THIS

Like, I don't understand Sephiroth's motivations here at all. They don't make any fucking sense when you actually sit down and think about them a little bit (as opposed to not at all).

Is he trolling? Is that it? Is Sephiroth just being a big old fucking troll? Doing it for the lulz? Got a nice taste of Rufus's despair when he got infected with Geostigma and was like "mmm delicious daddy issues I wanna go back in time and taste that again"???

It's very stupid. It's very dumb.