#and it worked 98% of the time without fail

[heisoark]

When you think about it, Sabo is really funny because before haki and the flame flame fruit, his main method of attack and defense was beating you with a metal pipe really hard

[lucid-loves]

simon slowly falling in love with reader after hating her for a long time⁉️

Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it! ❤

Nuclear Date Night

Pairing: Ghost x 141!reader (fem!reader, weaponsengineer!reader, codename: Byte)

Word Count: 12.8k, One-Shot

CW: strong language, mention of violence, hate to love relationship, rivals, competitive, competence, realized feelings, smut, body praise, deep kissing, licking, fingering, biting, p in v

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: Ghost hates your guts. Even since you joined the team as their new weapons engineer two years ago, he’s hated you with his whole chest. With your high and mighty attitude, bewildering intellect, and unwavering confidence, he can’t stand you. You hate him too with his unreadable face, demeaning protection, and lack of grace. When an undercover mission requires the two of you to get closer, though, the both of you realize your hate for one another has turned into something else entirely. 

You ignored the icy cold glare the lieutenant kept on your figure as you explained how the new sniper-focus worked. Your comrades stared at your invention in wonderment, once again reminded just why you were part of the team. Thanks to your countless all-nighters and delicate hands, you managed to invent a focus that can attach to any sniper, calculate notches and wind speed, recommend the gun-adjust accordingly, and hit a target perfectly with over 98% accuracy. No matter the distance, no matter the weather, your focus powered with A.I. calculated assistance can kill any target. 

Everyone was impressed. Save for Ghost. 

“Aim at the target, give it a second to calculate, and then listen to the adjustment with the earpiece. After that, just adjust the aim and fire. Pretty simple stuff, really.” You demonstrated, large sniper in hand. 

The wind blew through your hair, dust coating your strands like moth to a flame. From a distance, a whipping dust devil was forming across the golden sands of the desert. It was dry, it was hot, and it was windy as hell. It was the perfect place to demonstrate your brilliance. 

When you joined the team two years ago, you knew that you had to put your heart and soul into this job in order to be taken seriously. You weren’t especially muscular or tall. As a soldier, you did train for instances of defense in case it was needed, but your true power relied on your smarts. A rather overlooked sign of an excellent soldier that often invited ridicule from the more traditional soldier. 

That’s exactly what Ghost did when he first met you. 

“You sure this shrimp can handle herself? Be one of us? She looks like she can barely lift a spoon without straining her wrist.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at the memory, muscles tensing as if you were in that moment once again. The memory of your response quickly took over. 

“Are you sure this meat-head can handle my science? He looks like he can barely use a blender without getting confused by all the buttons.”

You both left a bitter taste in each other’s mouths that day. The taste has lingered ever since, tainting nearly every interaction you had. It was a wonder how you haven’t killed each other yet. 

Setting up the sniper, you prepped for the real demonstration. While you did final adjustments to the focus, you called over your rival. “Ghost, test this for us.”

“Why do I have to be the guinea pig? I don’t need a fucking robot to focus my aim anyway.” He protested, every cold tone in his words deliberate. 

The team shifted uncomfortably, even after all this time still not used to the spats the two of you got into. Attempts to resolve the bad blood have always failed. It was easier to just let the two of you spit your fire until you ran out of fuel. 

“Alright then, tough guy, you can aim without it. Go ahead, hit the target.” You nonchalantly agreed, confident that things were going to go your way this round. Ghost noticed that easy acceptance you gave, his eyes narrowing at you as he tried to figure you out. What was your game this time?

Not one to back down, he approached the sniper and aimed it normally, your focus set to default. No robots, no artificial intelligence. Just plain-Jane markers for distance. Looking through the scope, Ghost looked for the little red flag that indicates the location of the fake target used for practice. After a while of looking at nothing but sand, he spotted the target just past the dust devil. 

He would have to account for that. You planned for this. No wonder you insisted on dragging them all out to this dry wasteland. He clenched his teeth, blood simmering as you tried to make him look like a fool in front of his team. Backing away, though, would make him lose this game. Shooting and missing would also give you the victory point. Either way, both scenarios made him look incompetent.

God, he fucking hated you. 

Suppressing a malicious smile, you antagonize him. The feeling of beating him made your heart race in excitement. “Any day now, Ghost.”

He hated the way you drew his name out like that. The way you so easily said it like it was nothing but air to you. Like bubblegum being blown and popped at your will. His name should’ve struck fear and intimidation. Instead, you chewed on it. Popped bubbles with it. 

Aiming the scope, he lined up his shot, and fired. Watching the bullet carefully, he saw it shoot forth with speed right on the dead center of the target, whip back from the dust devil, and hit sand with an explosion of grain. 

It took everything in him not to fucking leave right then and there. 

“Good shot if you planned on missing. Now, use my focus.” You continued to tease, twisting the knife further into his already wounded pride. There was little snickering coming from his men, Gaz and Soap not being able to contain themselves. They would admit that sometimes your fights were funny. It was a way to cope with the discomfort it brought. 

Silently, Ghost switched on your focus. Out of the side, a small earpiece ejected out. He took it and fitted it into his ear under the mask. Of course, you programmed the artificial instruction with your own voice. Serious, stoic, and purposeful. “Awaiting aim to calculate.”

He aimed once more at the metal target using the scope, the dust devil blowing the sand around violently to protect it at all costs. The scope projected its calculations as if he was staring at a screen. Within a few seconds, it completed its estimations. A green dot appeared way over to the left and bottom of the notches, marking the shooting point. Your voice rang in his ears. “Target confirmed. Aim and fire.”

This seemed way off. There was no way this could be right. Was he really meant to aim so far off? The green dot stayed perfectly in place as he adjusted the aim, his center notch in line with your tech’s mark. He hoped that it would miss.

He fired and watched the bullet sail through the air, ride with the dust devil like a wave, and hit the target with perfection. He became slack-jawed bewildered at the precision. The fact that it could calculate aim with even an extreme factor such as swirling winds was undoubtedly impressive. 

This was your clear victory. And he hated it. 

You relished in his fiery disdain of your genius. A small smirk played at your lips as you saw just how the rage froze his muscles. He looked like he wanted to punch something. 

“God damn, Byte! That was phenomenal!” Soap loudly praised, his eyes wide in true marvel. The others agreed, all wanted a turn to use that focus of yours like it was a new toy. Every invention that you gave them has felt like a new toy. It made those days feel like Christmas morning. You were great at your job and they couldn’t be happier to have you on the team. 

Of course, except for Ghost. Even if your engineering prowess was the best in the world. 

“Really great work, Byte! Are the blueprints all ready to copy?” Kate smiled appreciatively while tapping on her smartpad.

“All ready for production.” You simply answered, proud of the work that you had accomplished. Another one for the books. 

While the boys played with their new toy, Ghost stepped back and crossed his arms angrily. 

He hated everything about you. Your unmatched intellect, your confident plays, your arrogant personality. He hated that his team was wasting money on technology for weapons when a true soldier shouldn’t need the handicap. Real skill was earned by yourself. Not with the assistance of technology. It should be a tool, not a crutch. 

Ghost believed that people who couldn’t aim a sniper on their own and hit a target didn’t deserve to be snipers. And you just made him unworthy of being a sniper when against your tech. 

You looked up at him, taking note of how hard he threw daggers at you. You made him look stupid, and that was your goal. It felt like you had the world in your palm when you did. Someone as respectable as Ghost being bested by a brainiac was always the best. You proved that you didn’t need muscles or height or even intimidation to be better. You just needed your smarts. 

A huff of a laugh escaped you as you turned away from him, knowing that that would just make him even more angry at you. Good. 

You hated everything about him too. 

~

“What you do really is modern magic. Seriously, Byte, how does your brain come up with such things?” Gaz inquired, raising a bottle of beer to his lips. The team decided to celebrate your new invention at the usual bar. Of course, your drinks were on them as a reward. They knew that you put a lot of work into what you did. The least they could do was pay for your rum and cokes. 

You raised the cold glass to your lips, the sweet and spicy cocktail hitting your tastebuds. “The pros of being a genius. Thank you for the praise. It feels nice to be appreciated for my work around here.”

That last past was said a little louder, loud enough to make sure that Ghost could hear it on the other side of the bar. He bit his tongue and rolled his eyes at you, not willing to open himself to any more of your antagonizing today.

The victory was as sweet as the drink you were nursing. Addictive too. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of success. When you finished an invention, when you helped your team complete a mission, or when you bested Ghost, they all gave you that sweet sense of accomplishment. 

Soap slung his arm around your shoulder, nearly causing you to spill. He was already a couple drinks in. “Yeah yeah yeah, good work! But all we ever talk about is work. Been two years, Byte. Tell us what that genius does outside of work, huh?”

You shifted in your seat, becoming a little uncomfortable with the sudden questions about your personal life. They knew tidbits here and there about you. Some failed relationships, favorite songs, distaste for certain foods. But your answer to all of that was usually straight-forward. “We broke up.” “I like this song.” “I’m not going to eat that.”

Something that the team noticed early on was that you were a workaholic. You hung out with them on rare occasions, you were usually confined working in your lab while they had offices, and you usually departed events early to be in said lab. Besides minor details, they really didn’t know much about you outside of your work personality. They have been trying to pull you more out of your shell over time, but it was a slow process. 

Gaz frowned at Soap’s bluntness. “Come on, Johnny, leave her alone tonight.”

“It’s fine, Gaz.” You put your glass down roughly, the clink of the glass on polished wood sobering Soap up pretty quick. It made Gaz look away in shame. That was at least one thing they knew about you most intimately. You hated being treated like you can’t take care of yourself. When they stepped in on your behalf, answering a question that was meant for you, it made you want to hit them. You knew they only did it to protect you. That you were one of them and this is how they treated one of them, but you could never let it be. 

You didn’t need anybody to stand up for you. You will make that a point for forever if you had to. 

The air grew thick with tension as you silently scolded them for hitting one of your pet peeves. With a sigh, you caved in, wanting to restore some of that fun from before. “What do you wanna know? Anything is on the table.”

Soap’s face lit up like a match to a gas station. “Seriously?! Anything?”

You gave a little nod and braced yourself for the worse. Soap’s lack of personal boundaries was quite well known. It was coming from a place of genuine curiosity and ease, never ill-intent. It was just one of the quirks of Soap that you were still coming to terms with even after all this time. 

“Well. . . what’s your sex life like?” 

Gaz began to choke, coughing on beer stuck in his throat. Price tapped his back to help him out, his sharp gaze falling on Soap for such a personal question. Yet, he didn’t say anything. He knew that if he did, you would get angry at him. He has been pretty good about avoiding your pet peeve and he didn’t want to break his streak.

Clearing your throat, you composed yourself. You weren’t expecting such a blatant question either, despite inviting this kind of open question. It didn’t mean that you weren’t going to be honest, though. That just wasn’t the kind of person you were. You never stepped away from a challenge. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Soap grinned widely, happy to talk with you finally like you were just like one of the guys. “Body count? Preferences? All of it. I wanna know what a genius views sex as.”

Slowly, you drank the rest of your rum and coke before signaling for another one. While you hailed the bartender, you noticed that Ghost was staring intensely at you. He hated you, but even he was curious on how anyone could tolerate you enough to sleep with you. 

Once you were halfway through your second drink for some liquid courage, you began to talk about one of the most personal details of your life. “Body count of five. All men. Most were one-night stands or sex-friends.”

You liked sex. There was no question about it. At least, you were interested in it. Despite the amount of people you’ve been with, they always left you wanting more. It was always a little unsatisfying when they were finished. It always felt like there was a black hole inside of you that needed the right meal to be satisfied. 

The exact reason why was no mystery either. Unless you were masturbating alone, you never came. No matter how much time and effort went into foreplay, none of your partners have ever made you orgasm. 

Just because your sex life was active didn’t mean it was great. 

“Wow, that’s a little surprising.” Gaz admitted, finally over his coughing fit. Price shook his head, a little embarrassed to hear about his men talking about sex so freely with you. As a captain to a group of mostly boys, he has shared details with them to bring the group together. It felt a little strange to have you participate in this. Even Kate wasn’t pressured into sharing such details. 

“Our little genius gets some then! How is it? Any experience noteworthy?” Soap persisted as he ordered another round.

“Not especially? Average, I suppose.” You shrugged, answering the questions becoming much easier the more you poured rum and coke into your system. Warmth crept along your cheeks, blossomed in your ribs. You felt yourself opening up like a dormant flower. 

You ordered another drink. Soap continued to pry. “Average? What does that even mean?”

“I never came before.” You suddenly blurted out, the blending of your naturally blunt personality and alcohol turning into a pretty dangerous combination. It seemed like the rum in you was getting to your brain faster than you thought. 

This time, it was Soap’s turn to choke. Gaz was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to comfort your plight. Ghost just stared as if he was watching the news. However, his mind was thinking all sorts of things. He wanted to mock you. Say that that was what you deserved for being so arrogant about your intelligence. He felt the instinct to trash talk you to recover some of the pride he lost today. 

Yet, he couldn’t. In fact, he began to feel a foreign pity for you. If you knew that he was pitying you over something like this, you would absolutely rip him a new one. That didn’t stop his eyes from softening for just a moment, though. A moment that you noticed with those sharp eyes of yours. 

Finishing your drink, you slammed the glass on the counter, nearly shattering it. How dare Ghost look at you like some tragic whore! So what you never orgasmed from sex! You were doing just fine when it came to solo-sex escapades. You didn’t need anyone to satisfy you. You only needed yourself. “I do perfectly fine when I masturbate. Don’t get it twisted. Other people just don’t satisfy me. It’s whatever.”

In a simmering fire, you got up from your chair and left the bar for the night, leaving your teammates wondering what the hell got you so worked up all of a sudden. 

Only Ghost knew the answer to that. 

~

Arriving back on base on your motorcycle, you headed straight to your lab. It was quiet. The dead of night. Everyone else was either back home, sleeping in the barracks, or partying it up downtown. You had an apartment to go back to, but you always found yourself coming here instead. 

Settling your helmet and jacket on the coat-rack, you made yourself at home. Dim-emergency lights softly illuminated unfinished projects on tables. Pieces of wires, circuits, and bolts littered every corner of the room. The place looked small and cramped during the day, scientists and engineers squished together in a lab that was second priority compared to the more athletic-based facilities. In the night when no one was here, the place looked like a tech graveyard. Vast, dark, and cold. 

You headed towards your usual workstation, a large workshop desk that was overflowing with unfinished blueprints of inventions that haven’t panned out just yet. A lot of the struggle came from lack of funding. Some of it came from unrealistic expectations. Science was an investment, something that most military dogs failed to realize. It’s why you always pushed yourself to work constantly and prove what the proper time and resources could bring. 

You were essentially killing yourself in order to make them see the worth of your department. 

Looking through the blueprints, you settled on one that was worth revisiting. A Russian Doll bullet that would save ammunition and materials to build said ammunition. The idea was to invent a bullet that would be compatible with most firearms, shoot an outer layer of bullet without shooting out the inner layer, and repeat until the last of the bullet is gone only to be replaced by another Russian Doll bullet. 

It would effectively turn a six-shooter into a twenty-four. It would save so much ammo and save many soldiers the reload time. 

The only problem you haven’t solved yet was the instability of gunpowder. 

That’s what you decided to work on tonight. Taking a seat in your worn out swivel chair, you opened your drawers and pulled out your materials. Bringing a magnifying glass close to you, you began to disassemble a few bullets. It was always a good idea to build things by first taking things apart. 

As you worked, you heard the sound of the lab door open. It was still much too early for the morning crew to come in, so you wondered who it could’ve been. Maybe Price had come to lecture you about how you left things at the bar. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to talk to you about your temper. 

Turning around, you were surprised to meet your rival, peering over all of the electronic corpses on the tables. He didn’t come here very often. You were always here after all. He knew you were always here. He shivered, noticing just how chilly it was inside the lab. The air conditioning was running on full blast. “Feels like a meat-locker in here. How can you work like this?”

“What do you want?” You sharply retorted, nerves already on edge at his presence. The lab was supposed to be your refuge. Your paradise. And here came the snake. 

“Relax. I’m not here to fight. I just wanted to talk to you about the focus.” He treaded carefully, his own instincts waiting to fire off like they were used to when he was with you. A lightbulb in his head just went off just then. He realized just how bad the relationship between the two of you was since his first real instinct was to yell at you. Ghost knew you felt it too. 

He was supposed to be the 141’s Lieutenant. He was supposed to bring the team together for his captain. And here he has been for two years, trying to push you out. 

Ghost has never even approached you without the intention to fight or yell or demand since the first day he met you.

Christ, was there any recovery from this? Ghost took a deep breath, trying to choose his words carefully for once. “The focus is great. You did a good job.”

“Don’t fucking pity me.” You snapped, turning back to your desk and igniting sparks as you bonded metal with heat. A hurricane brewed in your chest. Did he seriously come all this way to pity you? The gaze in his eyes should have been enough. It made you leave the bar!

Ghost felt that fire rising in his throat, wanting to say something back that would hurt you. Old habits die hard. It was a tough pill to swallow. “I’m not trying to pity you. The focus is going to help a lot of soldiers. It’s going to save a lot of people.”

You paused, unsure if his words were genuine or misleading. You’ve fallen into that trap before, hearing what seemed like a compliment only for it to be backhanded. It was unfortunate that you didn’t trust a word that came out of his mouth. “Why did you look at me like that at the bar?”

He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he wished he didn’t. He didn’t really want to talk about your sex life when it was just the two of you. Especially not when the two of you haven’t even had one decent interaction with each other. Goosebumps prickled all of his skin, his teeth nearly chattering. How could you keep it so fucking cold in here?

“I felt sorry for you.” He admitted, finding himself unable to lie to you or change topics. At least from the beginning, he has always been honest with you. 

As you heard the words you loathed to hear, you put down your tools, hands becoming too shaky to handle them with all the rage storming inside you. “I-”

“I felt sorry that no one has liked you enough to satisfy you.” 

Well, that didn’t exactly sound right.

Your mouth opened in shock at his dig. His eyes widened as he heard the words coming out of his mouth, realizing that it sounded completely fucking wrong. He held his hands up in defense, scrambling to explain himself before it was too late. 

The hurricane was in full swing, though. But instead of bringing thunder, it only brought rain. The corners of your eyes prickled with tears before streaming down your flushed cheeks. A lump choked in your throat choked the air out of you. You thought you could say something hurtful back. You always did before. But this time, his words cut a little too deep.

None of your relationships have lasted long. Not even with people you agreed to just be sex-friends with. They always ended up leaving. Whenever you asked what went wrong, they always blamed it on your demeanor. Your personality was too particular. Your interests were too complex. Your high expectations were too much. 

It was one of the reasons you kept a distance from the 141. They loved your company as far as you knew. But only in small doses. Who knew what would happen if they really spent time with you? They would probably get sick of you over time too. Ghost hated you since day one after all. 

No one liked you. You thought that you were fine with that at this point, but clearly you weren’t.

Ghost stood frozen in time, completely taken aback by your sudden tears. He expected screaming. He expected hitting. He expected icy retorts. That’s all he has ever known you as. He never in a million years expected tears. 

It made him feel like he was the biggest piece of shit on the planet. And the worst part was that he didn’t even know what to do about it. 

All of his years of hatred for you melted away as he watched you crumble, your distrust for him putting up more walls between the two of you. Jesus, how does he fix this now?!

“Byte, I-”

“Don’t you think I already know that no one likes me? You think you’re the first person to hate my guts?!” You spat, some of the lightning finally coming out. The tears kept coming, but it was somehow better for Ghost. He felt more used to that dangerous spark you had. It made you easier to approach now. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Poor choice of words. Honest. I just meant that. . . I . . . Everyone deserves to be loved enough to the point of satisfaction. You work hard and give us countless advancements to use. You deserved to be satisfied. You deserve to have someone that will put the work into you too.” He finally managed to find the right words, nearly running out of breath with all the effort he had to find them. He was never really good at heart-to-hearts. 

You looked at him in shock once more as he attempted to salvage the hurt he caused you. This was beyond confusing for you. Your brain that worked so hard everyday, that could think up a million things at any given time, was at a loss for words. 

In your uncertainty, you followed your instincts. And that was to turn back around to your desk, wipe your eyes, and get back to work. It was the only constant in your life that you could rely on. The best way to think. 

Ghost didn’t blame you for returning to work. He probably wouldn’t know what to say either if it was him. Instead of pushing it any further, he decided that it was probably best to leave. Before he headed out of the lab, he turned back and looked at you. 

You did the same, the moment of work gracing your senses. In the end, he did try to pay you a genuine compliment. You were always the type to reciprocate fairly. “Thanks, Ghost.”

There was a certain way you said your thanks that made Ghost’s heart skip a beat. A sense of gentleness that he’s never heard from you before. The way your eyes shone bright from leftover tears had him stunned. Were your eyes always that pretty?

He turned quickly and left, the back of his neck heating from the intrusive thought he just had. As he walked back to the barracks, he sighed. The air outside was much warmer than the environment of your lab. So much easier to breathe. It felt suffocating being in there. Out here, he could let his mind relax.

And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of you. 

~

The two of you didn’t fight as much anymore. Sharp words slipped out every now and then, but neither of you kept feeding the fire once they were said. Most of the time, you two were just back to avoiding each other. Though, the both of you had your own reasons. 

You found yourself just at a loss of words when he was civil. It was that distrust that still lingered that made it hard for you to interact with him. It was especially difficult to be around him when he was actively being polite. Praises for your work, helping you carry heavy boxes across base, or prioritizing processing your submitted paperwork was always done either curtly or in silence. It was foreign to you.

And the energy you saved now that it wasn’t spent on fighting was now put to use by noticing him a little more. You always couldn’t help but stop and stare as he helped carry equipment with you from the lab to the armory. The way his biceps flexed with ease at the heavier load. The way his eyes remained stoic even as he embraced your inventions. Ghost was now more on your mind than ever, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. 

Ghost, on the other hand, was now always thinking about you. He felt the urge to get closer to you. To get to know you better. To help you out in a way that didn’t look down on you like he’s always done. He couldn’t stop thinking about your eyes too. How bright they were under the sun or moon. How they watched him under such careful supervision, trying to decipher if his good will was real or not. 

Even in moments where he didn’t want to think about you, he found his mind wandering anyway. Ever since that night in the lab, he felt his feelings change. Two years of anger and resentment for you have nearly melted all away only to be replaced by something else. And he didn’t know how to explain it. 

All he could do was try to keep cool. Remain civil. Avoid too close of interactions with you. 

It was working for the both of you for months until you were assigned to a mission together.

The team had noticed that the both of you were getting along in the loosest sense of the term. They wondered what caused such a shift, but they never asked out of fear of resetting the apparent progress. Instead, Price tried to push more progress by assigning the both of you to work an undercover mission. 

A wealthy investor of nuclear weaponry was suddenly pouring a lot more money than usual into a country with a rising dictator. The investments coincided with less threatening ideas such as climate change prevention and DNA study in order to balance out interest. The goal was to detain this investor, question him about his relationship with this dictator, and then hopefully stop a dangerous man from getting his hands on advanced nuclear power. 

The way in was at a formal event promoted by the science community. Conservationists, biologists, engineers, and more were going to be present to try to win over some other wealthy investors that would be there including celebrities, CEOs, and politicians. It was a high brow event which made the need for scientific knowledge apparent. 

And who knew more about such science than you?

Intimidation invitations in hand, Ghost waited in a hotel lobby, a crisp, black tuxedo hugging his form as if tailored to him. The skull balaclava was swapped with a simple black face mask, covering enough of his identity which made him feel better about all of this. Looking at a nearby mirror, he checked his blonde hair. He’s never dressed so formally in his life. 

He suddenly wondered if you would like it. 

You still need a moment to get ready, always one to check twice to make sure you had everything you need. Your heart raced in your chest, your nerves tingling with adrenaline as you prepared to see this mission through. You’ve been on the field a couple of times. Never under-cover. The fact that you would probably have to do most of the talking made you nervous. 

People didn’t like you. That weakness of yours was clouding your confidence. Being a woman in science was already a tough world. Would you be able to keep your personality in check if you faced such a conflict?

Nervously, you headed down to the lobby, adjusting every dress each step of the way down. When you spotted Ghost from a distance, you froze. You have never seen him so cleaned up before. When you were coming down, you half expected him to appear like he always has. Military uniform, skull mask, strapped with obvious weapons. 

You didn’t know that his hair was so. . . 

Finding yourself at a loss for words again, you steeled yourself. As you got closer, you realized that your heart was racing for an entirely new reason. Your lieutenant was much more attractive than you thought. 

And he was technically your date for tonight.

Ghost caught your figuring in the corner of the mirror, making him turn around. Time stood still for you once again as you appeared before him looking like someone straight out of a romance movie. Your dress hugged your curves in all the right places, every strand of hair was styled beautifully to frame your face, makeup only highlighted just how beautiful you naturally were. 

How could he never see just how beautiful you were before?

You walked closer and cleared your throat, that voice he thought was so annoying before now sounding like the sweetest violin. “Lieutenant, you look good this evening.”

This was the first compliment he’s ever received from you. It made his stomach do flips. What was happening to him? Pull it together!

“Thanks. You look great tonight. Ready?” He offered his arm, waiting for you to take it. 

Your heart could barely take it as you looped your arm around his, touching him so intimately for the first time. Heat radiated from his body. The biceps you found yourself staring at before felt solid under your touch. You looked up into his eyes, the glacier blues melting into a deep ocean. Looking away suddenly, you attempted to hide your blush. He was looking at you so intensely that it startled you.

“Do you have to stare?” You questioned a little too sharply than you intended. You braced yourself for him to say something equally sharp, something Ghost felt in your arm that was hooked around his. 

He averted his gaze, now conscious of the way his eyes naturally followed you. His mind searched for an explanation for his lack of discretion. The unexplainable pull that you had on him. Jesus, it was like he was. . . 

Oh. Oh no.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, trying to keep his feelings in check. How could he spend two years praying for your downfall to all of a sudden being-

He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t even want to entertain the likely possibility. Even if he wanted to act on his feelings, did he really deserve to after all the fighting for two years? You would probably never truly accept him after all the things he’s said and done. You weren’t completely innocent either, but Ghost had to face the fact that he was the one that started it all. Before even knowing your name, he insulted you, unable to keep his opinion on tech in weapons in check. A matter that wasn’t even your fault to begin with. 

What the hell was wrong with him back then? What the hell is even wrong with him now?

“Hey, Earth to Ghost. You okay?” You asked, noticing how he seemed to be just staring into space as they waited for the car to pick them up. There was a brightness in the night, a rain having just finished its pour. Puddles on the ground reflected the city’s lampposts, cars flashed their lights, and much to Ghost’s dismay and pleasure, your eyes shined replaced the stars. 

His voice was deep and agitated, more so upset with himself than with you. “I’m fine. Just nerves.”

At that you smirked that devilish smile that he hasn’t seen in a while. It pissed him off to no end before, but now it made his heart flutter. “Wow. The great Lieutenant Ghost has nerves. Never thought I’d hear that. Makes me feel a lot better, though.”

“And why is that?” He inquired carefully, almost afraid to hear the answer. 

You shrugged, actually starting to feel at ease for the first time in his presence. The butterflies were still there. They were just much more manageable now. “I am nervous as well.”

Before he could question you further, the designated car pulled up in front of the hotel. Gaz, parading as the chauffeur for tonight, got out of the car and held open the passenger door for the both of you to get in. Soap wanted to do this job, but Price refused. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to shut his mouth if he saw the two of you together like this. Gaz at least had a filter.

He played the role to a tee, onlookers staring as he took off his hat and bowed. “Good evening. You both look dashing tonight. Especially our lady.”

The cover was working smoothly. Together, they really looked like A-list people. The civilians would have never guessed that they were all just soldiers. Drinking in their looks, you let it replenish your confidence. You got into the car followed by Ghost, Gaz shutting the door once everyone was settled. As he drove to the venue, he went over the mission details. 

“We’ll be keeping an eye on you the entire time. We have access to all the venue’s cameras and we have mics hidden throughout the building. Some security is our own too to keep an eye on things. This place will be packed full of civilians, so violence must be kept to a minimum. Non-existent preferably. If anything does go wrong that we don’t notice, use the codeword.”

You nodded at all of the information that will keep you safe, reading the mission file to brush up on before the big show started. Ghost looked over your shoulder, also reading the file once again. Mostly though, he noticed how intensely you studied. You didn’t want to be the reason why this mission failed. You couldn’t afford that. 

When the car slowed in front of the venue, you looked out. At least a hundred people were outside, dressed to the nines, ready to spend their money or ask for money. Your blood suddenly became cold as you looked at all the people. There must have been hundreds more inside.

Gaz parked the car and stepped out, getting ready to open the door for you. However, you were a statue. Unmoving. There was panic in your eyes. You looked the part for this. Could you talk the part too?

A warm, large hand landed on your shoulder, gaining your attention. Ghost looked at you with steady eyes, his tone slow and soft as honey. “You got this, Byte. You’re probably smarter than everyone here. I’m right by your side too.”

It was relieving hearing those words come from him. He was encouraging you like he was your lieutenant. Like you were part of his team. Your heart swelled as you looked into the eyes you’ve been trying to avoid. It looked like he was finally seeing you after all this time. 

With a deep breath and a new steely expression, you nodded to Gaz through the window. He opened the door and Ghost stepped out first. You took the hand he offered you and came out, the buzz of intellectual conversation in the air. 

Gaz drove off, leaving the mission to the two of you. Ghost led the way up, your arm in his like it was always meant to be there. Miraculously, the two of you looked like the ideal date. It made getting into the venue easy as Ghost handed over the invitations to the guard at the entrance. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Riley. Have a fun night!”

The both of you couldn’t help but blush at the shared name. To be referred to as Mrs. Riley gave you ideas that you never thought you would think about. It strangely had a nice ring to it that made your senses prick up. 

Ghost thought the same thing as he guided you in. Tonight, you were Mrs. Riley, his beautiful and intelligent wife. 

The two years of hating each other seemed to feel farther away as the night stretched on. 

The marble floors were packed with esteemed guests. Large, crystal chandeliers reflected off gold jewelry and champagne glasses. A live orchestra played with precise rhythm. Everyone mingled, trying to see where the best place to put their money was. Likewise, scientists tried to advocate for their foundations. All of the talk made Ghost’s head swirl. He was used to undercover missions, however, this was truly out of his realm. 

You were better at picking up the jargon. They spoke a language you understood. The language that only the people in the lab on base understood. It was like hearing your native tongue after years of speaking foreignly. Military culture and science culture was so different, that you often missed this. 

A couple approached the two of you, led by a middle-aged woman with a large, diamond necklace and fake lilies in her hair. “Aren’t you two the most adorable couple! I must compliment you on your gown too!”

This was it. This was their test to look like a real couple out as each other’s dates. You put on a fake smile and held out your hand. “Thank you for the compliment. I’m Mrs. (Y/n) Riley. This is my husband.”

The name slid easily off your tongue, yet it sent electricity through you. There was no way you were going to get used to that name tonight. It made you feel lightheaded when you said it. How could you get so embarrassed by a fake name?

Ghost was having trouble getting used to it too, a part of him wishing that the name was real against his will. Clenching his jaw, he looked out at the crowd, trying to spot the target. His large height helped, but there were too many people around. They all crowded around each other. Talking, laughing, flaunting. A slight tug on his arm brought his attention back to you. You were just sending the lady on her way after a simple, pleasant conversation. Through that, you were able to figure out if the target has shown up yet. 

“Let’s go to the main ballroom. According to the recent intel, our target would be there if he’s shown up. Something about him not being able to resist a shrimp cocktail.” You directed, your confidence becoming stronger as you weaved through the crowd. Ghost couldn’t help but take in your courage, finding it hard to believe that you were once nervous. Then again, this was your crowd.

The ballroom floor was also filled with people, but also now with clear advertisements from scientists. Small signs indicated programs with their representatives, helping investors find the right place to put their money in. You read the signs carefully, recognizing a few of them along with who was supposed to be running it. At some of the names, you grimaced. 

“You alright?” Ghost asked, trying to keep his own expression solid as if he was playing poker. He found himself worrying about you now that you looked so pained. 

You shook your head, trying to clear unpleasant memories as best as you can. “I’m fine. I just. . . I hope I don’t run into any ex-colleagues.”

As if the devil was listening himself, you heard your name being called from afar, a surprised tone countering the determined piano filling the room. “Y/n? Is that really you?!”

Putting on your game face, you smiled and turned towards your former colleague and, unfortunately, ex-lover. Of course, this was going to happen. Almost always one thing goes wrong during a mission. A part of you wished you didn’t accept this mission now that you were face-to-face with someone you tried to leave in the past. 

“Dr. Emmanuel. It has been a long time.” You greeted politely, taking extra time to keep your tone in check. The last time you spoke to him was during the breakup. He dumped you after a quarrel about a missing blueprint. You were working on a project together when you were both interns at a scientific space-engineering facility. The blueprint was supposed to help the both of you land permanent positions, but it was made clear that there was only room for one. 

When you heard the news, you both agreed that neither of you would take credit until you talked to the head of the facility. That was, until the blueprint went missing. From there, you fought and accused him of taking the blueprint for himself to get the job. Your hunch was right when you saw the new employee ID card he hid in his wallet. 

You called him a traitor. He called you deplorable. You claimed that most of the blueprint was your design. He reasoned that if you had the job, you would neglect him anyways with your workaholic nature. He then dropped the bomb that he hated working with you, that you made him feel insecure in bed with your inability to orgasm with him, and that you were just becoming into someone he loathed with your particular personality. He accused you of not loving him enough.

So he took the credit and ran, leaving you to figure out what the hell you were going to do about a job. That’s when you decided to join the military as a weapons engineer. Some time after, you joined the 141. 

“It has been some time, hasn’t it? I’m surprised to see you here? Are you here as a scientist or an investor?” Your ex inquired, sizing you up as someone to take advantage of or as competition for investors. You knew his game and you knew it well. You only had to learn the hard way once before you learned your lesson. You never made the same mistake twice. 

Ghost noticed how your expression hardened, yet you maintained that fake, pearly smile. What was this man to you? How did you know each other? 

Why did he care so much?

“He is the investor and I am the scientist. This is my husband, Mr. Riley.” You announced, now saying the word “husband” with your full chest. Your ex’s eyes widened briefly before twisting into a smile that showed hints of disgust. 

Nonetheless, he held out his hand for a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riley. It is an honor meeting a man that could tame such a work-driven woman.”

Before you could shoot back some venomous words that were bubbling up on your tongue, Ghost took his hand and gripped it tight with that soldier strength of his. Your ex seemed distraught as pain shot through his hand that was being crushed. Ghost didn’t let up. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t look down at my wife, doctor. I love her just the way she is. I’m sure she has accomplished much more than you as well.”

“Now, if you will excuse us, we have better things to talk about with other people.” Ghost finally let go, bruises already starting to form on the crushed hand of your ex. While you normally would pop off at him for standing up for you when you could’ve done so yourself, you were too busy thinking about his words. The L-bomb he dropped seemed to flow so naturally from him. It made you feel flustered. 

As Ghost led you away, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. He took your flustered expression as you being upset. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were upset with him or your ex-colleague. He knew he triggered your pet-peeve and he wanted to apologize. For now, though, he had to settle with a raincheck. “We’ll talk about that later. Do you see our target yet?”

You snapped back into action, being reminded that you have a mission to accomplish above all else. Looking around, you tried to spot the target. As predicted, there he was, gorging himself on shrimp and champagne. “10 o’clock.”

He looked over and confirmed. “Target spotted. Good eye. Ready?”

Taking a few deep breaths to reset your brain, you nodded. Swiftly, the both of you approach the target just as he was taking another flute from a silver tray. You changed your serious demeanor into a more graceful one. Someone worth giving money to. Someone that the target will like. “Mr. Marston. I was hoping to finally meet you tonight. I am Y/n Riley. This is my husband. You are such an inspiration to both scientists and investors.”

“Ha! A couple of fans with good taste! A pleasure to meet such a handsome couple! I’ve been in the business for a long time though, so I know you must want something. Can’t pull the wool over these eyes, even if they are old.” He laughed cheerfully as he raised more alcohol to his lips. 

It seemed that this would be easier than you thought. People like Mr. Marston made you sick. People with way too much time and money on their hands to shape the world as they saw fit, regardless of the good of the people. Nuclear war would be a disaster. And yet, this man treated it as lightly as the glass in his hand. Careless. Spilling over with each movement. Such a fragile thing away from one wrong move before shattering into a hundred pieces. 

“With age comes experience and wisdom. I am a scientist looking for an investor. Though my studies tend to be a little. . . unconventional.” You buttered him up before casting your line. All he had to do was take the bait.

And that he did. His eyebrows rose with interest at your choice of words. He felt his wallet burning a hole in his pocket. “Unconventional, you say? Well, I am all for out-of-the-box solutions to our world’s problems. Care to elaborate on your odd studies?”

You looked up at Ghost, awaiting some sort of signal that you may proceed with luring the target to where you needed him to be. He gave a single nod, disguising it as full support for his lovely wife. You were handling this much better than he expected. Or perhaps, this is how you always were under pressure. His judgment was always just too clouded with contempt to see it. 

“We would love to talk about our project, but such a thing is rather sensitive in nature. I would hate to upset some over-hearers. Perhaps we shall meet later once the formal is over?” You played cautiously, not yet reeling in such a loose bite. 

“Oh my, now you really have my interest! There are a few study spaces at this venue reserved for investors and scientist contract negotiations. I haven’t committed to any facility yet, so why don’t I start with reviewing you? What do you say?”

Hook, line, and sinker. “That would be most ideal, Mr. Marston. Just lead the way.”

Grabbing a few shrimps to go, the target led the way to a more private area of the venue. Everything was smooth, all according to plan. The crowd parted away for the richest investor here, making the exit quite swift. Once the three of you separated from the main event down to a much quieter room, Ghost detained him with cuffs. A button on his watch was pressed, signaling to the team that the target was in custody. 

“Wh-What?! What is all this now?!” Mr. Marston protested, hoping that someone would come to his rescue. 

“Lieutenant Ghost and Sargent Byte. You are being taken into military custody for involvement with nuclear investments. We just need to ask you some questions.” You explained carefully, trying to keep the target calm so you didn’t attract unwanted attention. Cool, calm, and collected. Ghost thought it was a good look on you. You weren’t normally involved like this, so he couldn’t help but think so. 

He had it worse than he thought. Seriously, what was with him?

While Ghost took his hands off the target for a moment to reach for his phone, feeling an incoming message, the target swirled around and tried to bolt. Not in the direction of an exit, though. Instead, he was running straight to you, binded fists raised to strike you. Thanks to your self-defense classes through the military, you acted on pure instinct. You dodged his fists and struck his jugular with a sharp strike of the side of your hand. He gasped for air and collapsed, tears streaming down his face as if he would die from the loss of oxygen. 

Ghost’s attraction to you increased tenfold as you nonchalantly fixed your dress like a meager wind just caused only slight agitation. He forgot just how capable you could be physically, not just intellectually.

Right on time, Price waltzed in wearing his common military uniform. He didn’t even bat an eye at the struggling target. “Transportation is outside. Well done, you two! It was about time you worked together on something. I hope to see more of this in the future!” 

You made some distance between you and Ghost, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea. For some reason, it pained Ghost to see you put up that wall again so soon after the mission. Was this the first and last time you would get along so well with him?

No, he decided. He told you that he would speak to you later about the interaction with Emmanuel. Then, he would knock your walls down. Finally get to know the real you.

From there, we can really determine if his feelings were just a fluke or not. 

~

You were back at the hotel, wiping your makeup off and stripping yourself out of the formal dress. Your muscles ache at the new freedom, having been fed up with such a fitted dress and heels. After showering and putting on some pajamas, you got into bed and began to read. You were rewarded for your work with a one-night’s stay at the luxury hotel, and you were taking full advantage of it. 

After reading, you were going to order hotel service and then go to bed. The life of luxury that was more than enough for you. As you began reading the next chapter of your book, you heard a knock at the door. Sighing, you bookmarked your page, and answered it. You were surprised to see Ghost standing there, smelling like fresh maplewood and citrus soap. A plain shirt clung to his torso and pajama pants made him look like a new man altogether. He had his black facemask on still, but once he let himself in, he took it off. 

This was the first time you have ever seen his full face uncovered. You noticed the small scar on his upper lip that matched the one on his right brow. His jaw was strong as if chiseled from marble. You couldn’t deny it. Ghost was a very attractive man.

“Sorry to barge in like this. I said we were going to talk, so here I am.” He explained, taking a seat on the edge of your king bed. He was drinking you in too. The pajama shorts that showed off your thighs, the cami that exposed your delicate shoulders. Your hair was still damp and scented with lavender and vanilla. His heart picked up speed as he felt a pull of attraction to you. 

How could he have ever hated a beautiful thing like you?

You found it a little rude that he just barged in, but you let it slide for once. From his tone, he didn’t seem like he wanted to fight. Besides, those deep blues were starting to melt your icy heart little by little. Just for tonight.

You took a seat on the bed next to him and looked up. “What is there to talk about? He’s just a man from my past.”

At that, he felt his muscles tense. He knew that there was more to the story. Ghost detected your evasion of the subject as clear as day. It was something he experienced nearly every day before this. He knew your tell. “I know it wasn’t just that. What he said, how you looked. What happened?”

Out of all people, you least expected Ghost to hound you about this. He has never been interested in your personal life before. Then again, your relationship has changed dramatically since the night in the lab. Before you knew it, you started to feel yourself open up to him a little. 

You stared down into your lap. “He’s an ex. We were interns together, he took all the credit for a project we did, he got a job, and I didn’t. He insulted me, dumped me, and then left. I left to work in the military. That’s really all there is to it.”

While your tone tried to keep it casual, Ghost knew it was really a tragedy. No wonder you didn’t trust easily. Now he wished he broke that guy’s hand when he had the chance. 

Did he really have room to talk though? He made you distrust people even more easily when he first met you. It was about time he apologized for it all. “Listen, Y/n. I’m sorry. About everything. For the two years of fighting. All the insults, all the exclusion. Everything. I should have been a better teammate, lieutenant, and even friend to you. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say, a new trick of his that seemed to have worked time and time again. The tick of a classic clock filled the silence as you thought about his apology. The sound of him using your real name echoed in your ears. You blamed him for everything that transpired. And now he was sorry about it. Yet, the way he looked at you didn’t indicate the need for forgiveness. He wasn’t entitled to it, and he knew that. Instead, his gaze was filled with certainty. The certainty to do much better by you from now on. 

Two years to lead up to this moment. You never thought you would live to see the day. Just like him, you slowly found your rage for him melt down to almost nothing, instead to be replaced by something soft, warm, and electric. 

You gave an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry too. I know I can be pretty unlikable.”

“You’re not unlikable.” He reassured, his hand naturally taking your cheek like he’s been doing it all his life. Ghost didn’t even realize that he did it at first. And before he knew it, he was going in for a kiss, unable to resist those pretty lips of yours for a moment longer. 

Your cheeks began to burn as he kissed you so suddenly, yet you didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. Something was pulling you deeper into him. A passion that was always there from the beginning. Hate or love, you have always been passionate about Ghost. Maybe that was why you truly hated him in the first place. 

Ghost couldn’t stop himself, deepening the kiss with each second that passed, reveling in how sweet you tasted on his lips. He’s been obsessed with you since the beginning. A fire within him had always burned for you. He just wished he realized that it was actually love much sooner. Perhaps if he did, you really would’ve been Mrs. Riley tonight. 

All the things he hated about you before were things he loved about you now. Your soft lips, your silky hair, your amazing intellect. All of the things that he could never match. You were better than him. However, he didn’t care anymore. He actually appreciated it now. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am.” He whispered as he pulled you closer, wrapping you in his embrace. You felt his firm muscles against you so much better now than before, the shirt he was wearing leaving little to the imagination with how fitted it was. 

It honestly turned you on. 

You took the initiative to reconnect your lips, your mouth opening to invite his tongue. Nerves fired off in every inch of your skin as his slick tongue met yours. Your toes curled as he felt you up, groping your thighs and waist like they would disappear any moment. His hands felt so good on you that you shivered, yearning for more. 

Things were getting out of control, but Ghost didn’t care. Tonight, he wanted you more than he has ever wanted anything from you. To appreciate all the things he was too stupid to notice before. You were sexy beyond belief. Always have been. When you were working over your desk with such a focused look, when you were gloating about your new invention, when you demonstrated a new gun so naturally in perfect stance. 

His pants tightened as his erection grew strong with each taste of your tongue. His hands roamed into your hair, gripping slightly to pull you closer. The both of you moaned when you ended up grinding against his hard cock. Once you got a taste for that, you couldn’t stop. Your hips grinded into his, sending earthquakes of pleasure through you. You could feel your panties get damper each minute as the makeout became even hotter and heavier. It wasn’t helping that it has been a while since the last time you had sex. It made you feel more sensitive than usual.

Finally, Ghost flipped you around and settled you back on the bed. He has never been so turned on in his life and you were the one doing this to him. 

There was something he needed to make clear first, though.

“I’m going to make you cum.” He promised, flashing you a determined look that had you weak. 

You blushed and averted your gaze, your voice low. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“I’ll do it. No matter how long it takes. I’m going to be the first man to make you cum tonight.” He reassured, gladly ignoring your warnings as he leaned down to kiss your lips again. As he took control of your tongue, his hands began to explore your skin under the shirt. You were unbelievably soft under his fingertips, delicate from your lack of experience on a battlefield. He now loved that about you. You didn’t need to be in the throws of battle to be part of the team. 

“You’re so soft, you know that?” He praised, deep rumbles of his voice making your brain turn into mush as it entered your ears. His kisses traveled to them, making you shiver uncontrollably as he softly bit down. 

He chuckled, a sound that was once always reserved for his male teammates unless he was making fun of you. Now, they teased you so pleasantly that your breath hitched. “Someone’s ears are sensitive. You like having them played with?”

Just as you were about to answer, he slid his hand up to touch your breasts, pinching your nipples and making you jump. “Ahh~! Ghost!”

“Call me Simon.” He demanded, yearning for the sound of his real name coming from you. It would be the first time you would call him by his real name. 

You played with it in your head, noting how foreign it felt just sitting on your tongue. Nonetheless, you gave him what he wanted. “S-Simon. . .”

“Again.” He encouraged, suppressing a shiver that traveled down his spine. It was like getting a dose of the sweetest drug. Fireworks exploding in his chest. He loved how his name sounded on your lips. 

“Simon. . .” You sighed as he peppered kisses all over your neck. Your cami was now raised up to reveal your chest, kisses traveling further and further down to taste all of you. As much as Simon wanted to fuck you already right then and there, he had a promise to keep. He had to take it slow and let it build up. He had to make you cum first.

He took a stiff nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around before taking it between his teeth in a gentle bite. His other hand twisted your other nub between his fingers. The way he tweaked them hard sent waves of pleasure through you, all the way down to your cunt that was still soaking your panties. It felt so good to have him touch you like this. You wanted more. 

Arching your back, you took your top off completely. Simon followed suit, stripping off his shirt and trailing his kisses down your stomach. As he felt your stomach on his lips, he buried his face deep into it. To think that he could’ve had this so much sooner if he was just nice to you from the beginning. “So soft. . .”

You squirmed a little under his slow, deep kisses to your body. No one has ever taken this much time on you before. All foreplay was pretty exclusive to your breasts or cunt with your previous partners. Simon was taking the time to appreciate your whole body. It felt so intimate. “Simon. . ?”

God, he loved it when you said his name. “Y/n?”

You were starting to like the sound of your name coming from him too. A blush swept across your cheeks. “You can be a little rougher.”

He smirked, this time making you tremble in excitement rather than rage. “Is that what you like? You like it a little rough?”

“I like the firmer sensation. Nothing too crazy.” You elaborated, always one to speak your mind even in a moment like this. If you were going to have sex with Simon Riley, if he wanted to make you cum, information like this was important.

Simon hummed against your skin, his hands working to pull off your pants. The vibrations made you sigh. Once your shorts and panties were off, he settled himself between your legs. Your dripping cunt was such a pretty sight. Pink, wet, and sweet. He bit the inside of your thigh, making you gasp in pleasure. “Like that? Is this what your previous partners did to you?” 

“N-No. . .” You admitted. Your previous partners never really listened to what you liked even if you told them straight-forwardly. At least not enough to get you to tremble like Simon did. It seemed like the man you hated before was really the best so far in bed. 

“Good. Their loss.” He murmured, biting down on your thighs soon after and leaving a deep love-bite. You bit your lower lip and whimpered, the sensation sending shockwaves. Simon kept going further and further down on you, relishing each time you moaned and quivered. He wanted more. He wanted to make you scream.

His lips latched onto your swollen clit, biting it between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. He tasted your nectar on his tongue, a taste that instantly made him addicted to it. You arched your back and grabbed his hair suddenly, silky soft strands feeling nice between your fingers. 

Just like he wanted, you moaned his name over and over again. His tongue kept lathering your clit firmly and with even strokes. Fingers prodded at your opening, spreading your wetness all over you until he was able to put two of his fingers inside. God, you were tight. 

“Ahh~! Right there, Simon!” You encouraged, your ability to speak your mind unwavering. Simone found that insanely attractive as he pushed his fingers in further and curled right at that spongy spot that was driving you crazy. His teeth pulled at your folds before being soothed with his tongue. Your clit twitched as he pressed his tongue up against it once more, all the while pumping his fingers into your soaked pussy. 

Your grip on his hair got tighter as he kept pushing you to the edge. The sensation made his own cock twitch under his clothes, making him press it up against the mattress to grind into. He wished it was your pussy he was grinding into already, but you were so close. He could feel it. You could feel it. 

He didn’t stop his pace. Strong, even, and slow. You tightened around his fingers each second, feeling the wave approach closer and closer. You could already tell that this was going to be a big one. Your first orgasm with a partner ever. 

Tilting your head back, you moaned louder and louder. You begged for more and more, praying to a god that Simon wasn’t just going to leave you hanging. Now that would be pure evil. The worst thing he could ever do to you. But he didn’t. He just kept nipping, sucking, biting, and licking to the point that your head was spinning. 

Before you could warn him, your vision saw white and you screamed. Simon could feel you suck in his fingers so tight that he smiled as he still landed kisses on your clit. Your legs trembled, aching to close or kick out the electricity that coarse through you. Your cum was spilling everywhere. All over his fingers down to his wrist, coating your thighs in a sweet glaze. 

While you tried to catch your breath, Simon licked up every drop. “How was that? Everything you thought it would be?

You looked down to see his eyes ablaze with victory and a sexy smirk on his lips. You sighed and nodded. “Credit where credit is due. That was really good.”

“Good. Because you’re not done yet.” He decided, already stripping off his pajama pants to reveal his rock hard erection. He was bigger than you expected, all that shit talk for two years making you believe that he was making up for something. But he was blessed with the girth, the length, and the look that you knew would be amazing.

He positioned himself between your legs, coating his length with your slick. Shivers started again as the tip rubbed against your clit. The both of you sighed, enjoying each other’s bodies to the fullest extent.

Suddenly, Simon pushed all of his cock into you, bottoming out within a second. You gripped the sheets tight in your fist as you cried out. He stretched you out so pleasurably, so fully. You’ve never felt so full in your sex life. 

Simon hissed as you clenched around him. “Fucking hell, you’re so tight. . .”

Slowly, he began to move. Long even strokes that rubbed every inch of you and him. As he looked down at you, face twisting into such a pleasurable expression, eyes only on him, he heard his heart beat in his ears. God damn, you were gorgeous. 

Your eyes widened as he came down for a kiss, his tongue taking full control while his hips remained steady. The sudden rush of the kiss and his cock reaching deeper made you scratch at his shoulders. He was eating up all of your moans like candy. 

“F-Fuck~! Simon, wait!” You begged, the sensation getting overwhelming with each deep thrust. He could feel you getting tighter. Wetter. He knew that you were getting close to another orgasm, and he wasn’t going to stop for a second.

He sat up and pushed your legs down by your thighs, spreading you wide open and making you take all of him as deep as you can. You clawed his hands as your climax approached even faster, Simon ignoring all of your cries for him to wait. The sounds of your wet sex echoed in the room along with your sensual moans, causing you to get even more aroused. Christ, his cock was so good!

You were plunged into an orgasm, your whole body quaking as you arched and screamed it out. Simon felt your pussy wrap tightly around him, trying to take everything from him before he was ready. It was dizzying how good your insides felt coiling around him. He loved how you soaked his dick and crotch full with your hot cum. 

Simon grabbed your thighs tight, squeezing hard and clenching his teeth while he tried to stop himself from climaxing too soon. He wanted to stretch this night out for as long as he could.

While you settled down from your second orgasm, you gazed up at Simon who was struggling to keep himself together. You lifted your arms and touched his strong, muscular chest that was shimmering in sweat. You could feel how hard his heart was beating under your fingertips. You could feel him twitch hard inside you, aching to fuck you again. Your body was weak, though. You didn’t know if you could last for much longer. Every nerve in your body felt like it was melting. “Si-”

“I know. Your body won’t stop shaking. Just until I cum, yeah?” He observed, fingers tracing your trembling curves.

At the idea of Simon cumming, your body regained new energy that you didn’t know you had. You wanted to see it. Feel it. You wanted to see your lieutenant crumble from the power of your body. “Fuck me then, Simon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. His hips went into overdrive, thrusting in and out of you with ease from all of your slick. You felt him hit that wonderful spot of yours that made you see stars over and over again, your body already on the edge once again. 

Simon picked you up off the bed and turned, settling you on his lap while he laid back. He didn’t relinquish any control, however. He just wanted to grope your delicious ass while he thrusted up inside you, hitting nice and deep. With the new view and new places to touch, he was losing his mind. 

You weren’t expecting this new position, but you didn’t reject it either. In fact, it felt heavenly. He hit that g-spot at just the right angle and you loved how he manhandled your butt so roughly. You liked how his eyes never looked away from your body, drinking it all in like the finest wine. From this position, you could feel his solid cock twitch inside of you.

Struggling yourself up, limbs feeling like jelly, you fell onto his chest, your tits pressing firmly into him. That sent him over the edge, his grip on your ass making his nails dig into your skin. Once you felt that first rope of cum enter you, you came for the last time.

Hot cum mixed together, making a mess out of the both of you. His chest fell and rose with heavy breaths, groans coming out with each rope he couldn’t hold back. Your tightening pussy wasn’t helping, milking him of everything to the point where he even felt tingles travel through him. Once he was finally done, he felt exhausted. 

You were exhausted too, your lungs struggling to regulate air flow. Your heart was beating so loud that it drained all other noises. Your body felt slightly numb from it all, your head getting fuzzy with each second. Simon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as you both calmed yourselves. 

“That was. . .” He began, losing the right words to describe just how amazing that was. He’s had his fair share of sexual encounters, but never like this. No one could quite compare to you.

“Yeah. . .” You agreed, your eyes closing as you felt the afterglow take over. You felt the covers pull up over you, Simon still holding you on top of him, not willing to let go just yet. 

He could never imagine letting you go now. 

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Idiotic Decisions Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - Working on a project with douchebag Steve Harrington was not something you were looking forward to doing. However, you're surprised to find that maybe he's just a little less of a jerk than you thought. Word Count - 2.2k Warnings - Language and season 1 Steve, but that's it! Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

Of all the things that you thought you might have to do in high school, partnering with Steve Harrington on a project was the one you probably wanted to do the least. Even less so did you want him to know where you lived and be in your house, but one, you had to be there when your brother got home, and two, you wanted the home field advantage. 

“I still don’t see why you don’t just blow him off. You can come over and help me work on my new campaign. I had this great idea -”

You rolled your eyes. “Eddie, I’m not blowing off this project. It’s like twenty-five percent of my grade, and if I leave it all to Harrington I’m sure to fail.” 

Eddie snorted over the phone. “Don’t you have like a 98 in that class?” 

A sigh left your lips. “Yes, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. I need all the help I can get for scholarships. We’re gonna run like hell outta here remember? I can’t do that without some help.” After a moment, a thought struck you though. “Wait, don’t you have your own project to do? For Ms. O’Donnell?” 

“What’s that? Oh, sorry, my Uncle’s calling me to do some stuff around the trailer. I’m going to have to let you go.” He rattled off. 

But you knew he was lying. “I know damn well Wayne’s at work, Eddie.” 

“Bye!” Then there was nothing on the other end but a dial tone. 

Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, you let out a groan, knowing that Steve would be here any minute, and started cleaning off the table so you two would have some space to work. By 5, the time Steve had agreed to be there, everything was clean and your notes were laying out on the table for the two of you to use since you were sure he didn’t have any. 

Then it was 5:30, and he still wasn’t there. 

6:00

7:00 

7:30 and there was still no sign of Steve Harrington. 

By that point, you had grabbed a beer from where you had hidden them in the back of the fridge, and had taken up a spot on the couch with your new book, The Gunslinger. You almost didn’t answer when the knock sounded at your door, but you were curious as to what his excuse might be. 

Steve Harrington stood on your doorstep with what you were sure was supposed to be a charming grin. “Hey, Henderson.” When you stared at him without saying a word, the grin started to fade, and he fidgeted around. “You gonna let me in or?” 

You brought your beer to your lips and took a sip, continuing to stare him down for a moment, and then you took a step back, shutting the door in his face. Turns out you didn’t care what his excuse was. You sat back down on the couch and opened your book once again. 

Steve started trying to talk to you through the door. “Come on, Henderson, basketball practice ran late, and then I had to call Nancy-” 

You let out a snort and flipped the page. 

“Just let me in. I promise I’ll do whatever you say, all the grunt work, hell, I’ll even write, ‘I will not be late.’ Like a hundred times if that’ll make you feel better.” He pleaded. 

Hmmm . . . That would be amusing. 

“Henderson, seriously, what’s it going to take? I can’t fail this class-”

“What are you doing here?” 

You leapt out of your seat and ran to the door, opening it with a big grin. “How did it go?” You asked Dustin. 

Your little brother mirrored your grin. “It was awesome! We didn’t get finished though.” 

You nodded, expecting that. “Campaigns take forever sometimes, but it’s worth it in the end.” 

“Will was trying to attack the demogorgon, and when he rolled the dice, it flew off the table, then it took forever to find it.” 

“Was it a thirteen?” You asked. 

Dustin shook his head. “It was a seven, but Mike didn’t see it, so it didn’t count.” 

Letting out a laugh, you lifted Dustin’s hat to ruffle his hair. “Sneaky. I like it.” 

“Are you two speaking English?” 

You had forgotten Steve was there until he spoke. You shot him a scowl, but didn’t respond to him. “Come on, as awesome as that sounds, you’ve got to get to bed.” You told your little brother, wrapping your arm around his shoulder and bringing him inside. You tried to shut the door behind you, but Steve snuck in before you could. 

“What is he doing here anyway?” Dustin asked again, glancing back at Steve as you tugged him to his room. 

“Being inconsiderate and disrespectful of my time. Which is what I should have expected.” You replied without looking at Steve who was following behind the two of you. “Brush your teeth, lights out in ten.” You told him. 

Dustin groaned. “Fine.” 

“Are you having to babysit your brother tonight or something?” Steve asked. 

You didn’t want to respond, but you got the feeling that he was going to keep pestering you until you did. “No. My mom’s just asleep already.” 

Steve glanced down at his wrist, and then at you. “At 8:00?” 

Something about his tone made you snap. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but her medication makes it hard for her to stay awake.” 

Steve seemed to recognize the defensiveness in your tone, holding up his hands in front of himself. “Sorry, I’m not used to a quiet house by 8:00. My dad’s usually three beers in, yelling at my mom about how shitty and stupid I am at that point.” 

You paused for a moment, then narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you when you show up three hours late to work on a project that’s like a fourth of our grade.” You shoved past him, bumping into his shoulder as you did. 

He still followed you. “I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me - shit, Henderson- ” you froze as Steve’s stupidly large hand wrapped around your wrist. “I’m really sorry, okay? You’re right, I wasn’t respecting you like I should’ve been. It was shitty of me to show up so late.” 

It surprised you. His apology sounded sincere. You turned around to face him, and Steve let go of you. “Well . . . I’m glad you’re self aware enough to know that was shitty.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Other girls may let you treat them like that, but I’m not Harrington. I’m not going to do all the work because you . . . Flutter your eyelashes at me or something.” 

Steve grinned, raising an eyebrow at you. “Flutter my eyelashes?” 

You felt heat rush to your face, but tried to brush it off. “I’m serious.” 

“Right. Right. Sorry.” He said. “No fluttering of eyelashes, got it.” 

Taking a deep breath, you decided to lay down the rules. “I know we don’t get along, but for the sake of this project we need to work together. Which means I won’t call out all the ways you’re a douchebag, and you’ve got to give me at least a little respect.” 

Steve stared at you, and you couldn’t help but move restlessly underneath his gaze. There was something about his eyes that was just . . . Intense. “That sounds fair.” He said, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you still want to work tonight, or do you want me to leave?” 

Honestly, you were kind of surprised he was asking. It was almost . . . Considerate. “I - uh, I guess we can go ahead and work tonight. It’s not like I’d be going to bed any time soon anyway.” 

His smile was back now as he spoke. “All right boss, lead the way.” 

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile on your face as you led him to the kitchen. 

————————

“Can I be honest with you Harrington?” 

Papers were scattered around the table in every direction, no longer a neat stack like how you guys had started, but you found yourself not minding. Steve was bent over a sheet of construction paper, drawing lines with a ruler, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to get the line perfect. At your words though, he looked up at you, raising his eyebrows. “You mean that’s not what you’ve been doing the entire time?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t expect you to actually try. I’ve seen how you are in class.” For years you had watched Steve show up late, eat snacks, and flirt with girls instead of paying attention. You hadn’t expected it to be any different this time. 

He bent back over the paper again, starting a new line. “Yeah, well, maybe I just wanted to prove to you I’m not the idiot you think I am.” 

It wasn’t often that you regretted words that you said, but that might have been one of the times. You thought back to what he said earlier about his dad. How many people did Steve Harrington have in his life that thought he was stupid? It made you uncomfortable that you were now on that list. “Maybe, ‘makes idiotic choices’ is what I should have said instead. You know, like, being friends with Tommy and Carol.” 

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, and you thought you might’ve hit a nerve. “Aren’t you the one who’s friends with the drug dealer? How long before you think Munson’s locked up?” 

Yep. You had hit a nerve, and now he had to. “Yeah, well at least Eddie’s not fucking miserable like those two.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “He cares about people. He took me in when I had no one because everyone thought I was weird for reading fantasy books and not talking to anyone. That sound like something Tommy and Carol would do?” 

Steve slammed down the pencil and ruler. “People don’t think you’re weird because you read. People think you’re a bitch who goes around sleeping with people all the time because someone caught you coming out of a room at a party right before Jason Carver.” 

“Jason Carver cornered me in that room while I was waiting on Eddie, tried to get me to make out with him, got pissed when I wouldn’t, then went outside and spread the rumor that I was a whore.” You hissed. You didn’t know why the words left your lips. The only person who knew about that night was Eddie, and now for some reason Steve Harrington. Oh well. It wasn’t as if you could take them back. “And everyone believed him without a second thought, didn’t they?” You said, leaning back in your chair. “Including you.” 

Steve sat in stunned silence, his eyes never leaving your face. You thought you might have broken him when he finally spoke. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

You shrugged. “He didn’t actually do anything. He scared me for a second by grabbing my arm then I kicked him in the balls so hard he passed out. I guess wounding his ego and dick at the same time must have been too much.” 

“You should’ve kicked him harder.” 

“Probably.” 

Silence filled the room again, neither one of you quite knowing what to say after your confession. You didn’t regret saying it. It was almost a relief to know that someone else knew you weren’t what everyone thought, even if it was Steve Harrington. He was still looking at you, his eyes tracing over your face as if seeing you in a new light. Then he glanced down at the paper in front of you and smirked. “That’s the shittiest flower I’ve ever seen.” 

“What?” You glanced down at your own paper, a frown appearing on your face. Okay, so maybe your circles were a little lopsided, and your stems kinda thick, but it wasn’t that bad. “No it isn’t!” 

“Oh, it is. I’m just glad to find something you can’t do.” 

You let out a laugh that turned into a snort. Your eyes widened, and you covered your mouth as heat rushed to your face. 

Steve’s smile grew in delight. “What the hell was that? Do you have pigs in here somewhere?”

“You’re never to repeat that you heard that, do you hear me Harrington?” You threatened. 

“Will it make up for me making the idiotic decision to believe those rumors about you?” He asked. 

Your heart did a funny thing then. Almost gave a jump, and for some stupid reason you felt your eyes get a little watery. “It’s a start.” 

————————

The next morning at school, you met Eddie by your locker. “So how was it?” He asked as soon as you saw him. 

How could you possibly answer him? “It was . . . Not as bad as it could have been I guess?” You said, starting to unlock your locker. “How about you? I hope Wayne didn’t keep you up so late you didn’t get finished with O’Donnell’s project.” You said, calling him out on his bullshit. 

Eddie grinned sheepishly at you. “Yeah well - What the hell is all that?” 

As soon as you opened your locker, at least ten sheets of folded up paper had fallen out. You bent to pick one up and read what it said. It turned out they all said the same thing. 

I will not be late. 

You looked up and spotted him a little ways down the hallway, waiting by Nancy Wheeler’s locker. When he saw you watching him, he gave you a salute. 

You smiled.

[dollishmehrayan]

ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS WITH TIM ── .✦

a/n: guys who’s backk anyways this was a request by this lovely @pearlybaee (mentions aren’t showing up) but anyways I hope this reached the standards and tysm! ᥫ᭡

tags: ( tim drake x gn!reader)

THE RIVALRY BEGINS ── .✦

You and Tim Drake weren’t enemies, far from it. But being in the same academic sphere as him meant constant competition. It wasn’t outright hostile, but the two of you had a habit of accidentally one-upping each other in every single class.

“Oh, you got a 98 on the physics test?” Tim would say with a raised eyebrow. “Congrats! I got a 99. Must’ve been that question about Newton’s third law.” (That would’ve lowkey pissed me off oml🌚😭)

Your response? A shrug paired with: “Oh, it’s fine. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. Maybe I’ll tutor you sometime.”

Cue Tim’s light laugh, which only fueled your competitive spirit.

UTTER CHAOS MOMENTS ── .✦

During a group project, the professor thought pairing you and Tim together was a great idea. Neither of you said anything, but your eyes screamed, This is going to be a mess.

Tim, casually: “I’ll handle the research and presentation. You can write the report.”

You, not missing a beat: “Wow, I didn’t realize you wanted to make us fail. I’ll handle the research, thanks.”

He smirked but relented, “Fine. But if the slides are ugly PowerPoint ones, I’m blaming you.”

In a debate, the teacher made the mistake of pitting you against Tim.

“Timothy Drake’s argument is valid—if you ignore all the facts.”

Tim: “Wow, I didn’t realize we were presenting opinions today. Did you leave your sources in the other room y/n?”

The entire class lived for these moments. (Yk when the teacher starts talking about they’re life and they forget the lesson, that’s vibe omg)

THE KIND SIDE ── .✦

Despite the playful jabs, Tim secretly respected you. The fact that someone could keep up with his relentless drive and still manage to make him laugh? It was impressive.

Once, you stayed late in the library, struggling with a particularly tough assignment. Tim noticed and, instead of teasing, sat down next to you with his laptop.

“You know, if you keep looking at that paper like it’s going to fight you, it just might,” he said, sliding his notes over.

“Wow, are you actually helping me?” you asked, pretending to be shocked.

“Don’t get used to it,” he quipped, but the grin on his face told you he didn’t mind.

THE REALIZATION ── .✦

The moment Tim realized he was falling for you was during a particularly heated trivia competition for a school fundraiser or smth. You buzzed in before him and answered correctly with such confidence that the crowd erupted in applause.

He just stared, dumbfounded, while you turned to him with a smug smile. “What’s the matter, Drake? Cat got your tongue?”

It hit him like a ton of bricks: he didn’t want to beat you. He just wanted to keep standing next to you, watching you shine and get to call you his too.

THE CONFESSION (WHICH WAS TOTALLY NOT REHEARSED 7X WHEN HE WAS ALONE.) ── .✦

Tim’s confession wasn’t grand or overly dramatic. Instead, it happened during one of your late-night study sessions. You were both hunched over a table, working through equations, when he blurted out:

“You know, this whole rivalry thing? It’s kind of ridiculous.”

You looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Ridiculous how?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to keep competing with you. I want… I don’t know, to actually spend time with you. Without trying to prove I’m smarter.”

You blinked, surprised. “So you’re saying… you like me, is this a date?”

Tim groaned, cheeks pink. “Yes, obviously, I’m not just blabbing y/n.”

You leaned back, pretending to think. “Huh. This is going to be so fun to hold over your head.”

Tim laughed, shaking his head. “I take it back. You’re the worst.”

But when you smiled at him—actually smiled—he couldn’t help but think you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

[autisticrosewilson]

What do the other Wilson family members think of Jason?

I assume you're talking about in the context of him being shipped with one of them, I've shipped him with all of them at least once so I'll go down the list! Tell me if you want specifics on a particular ship or au though.

Suggestive content ahead, the Wilson's aren't exactly known for being normal sex havers

If he's dating Slade:

Grant (if he's alive) - Frothing at the mouth mad. He thought Slade was homophobic this whole time. Particularly upset it's Graysons brother. Sidenote: I don't see Slade fighting the Titans without Grant's death as a factor, so Dick would be Grant's nemesis.

Joey (if he's alive) - dating his ex boyfriends brother should be illegal. He used to babysit that little gremlin. Calling his mom to complain. Shaking crying throwing up. Keeps trying to get Jason to find someone else, anyone else.

Rose - HER EX BOYFRIEND ARE YOU BEING REAL. Betrayal on all sides. She gets over it eventually but that doesn't mean she's happy about it. Her brothers - if they're alive - being horrified by it make her warm up to it. She's a menace first and a person second. She's working closely with Dick to break it up though.

Adeline (if she's alive) - Heard about it from Joey, disappointed but not surprised. Sneers at it being a college boy, but after learning more about Red Hood she's mildly interested. She's impressed that anyone would choose to put up with Slade, but as long as he STOPS FUCKING CALLING HER she'll let it be. Could be persuaded into a threesome far, FAR in the future after a couple years with Jason has made Slade more tolerable.

Billy - smug, he TOLD Slade it would be more than just sex but no one ever listens to him. Also extremely tired, part of Slade being more tolerable is that the jobs he's willing to take slim dramatically. He gets huffy about it but he's definitely lowkey salty they haven't asked him to join yet.

If he's dating Rose -

Slade - Canonically their biggest fan. Jason has barely started flirting back with Rose before Slade is acting like he's already Jason's father in law. 50/50 on whether he's genuine or doing it to fuck with people. Shows his approval by challenging Jason to armed combat routinely and inviting him on jobs. Keeps asking when he's getting grandkids.

Grant - over protective but pretends he's not. GRAYSONS LITTLE BROTHER?!? Abhorrent. Is reluctantly bribed by Jason's cooking. Only starts warming up to Jason when he realizes that Jason is like, made of house husband stay at home dad material. Like an hour into a house call informed him that Jason is so hopelessly in love with Rose it's almost pathetic.

Joey - FUCKING FINALLY!! He's been here since day one, plotting, scheming. Carefully manufactured scenarios for them to spend more time together. Best man at the wedding, he wrestled Grant on the ground for it. Video called Dick with TEARS IN HIS EYES to tell him the news.

Billy - Normal father in law. Takes Jason on fishing and hunting trips. Reconnected with Alfred at the wedding and they're both ecstatic. You'd think it would be Slade who'd be gunning for the number one grandpa title and you'd be wrong, Billy is clawing his way to the top of that list.

Addie - Who? What? Oh. Fine. Reluctantly showed up to the wedding. Admittedly charmed by their dynamic. Mildly jealous at the sight of a non failing marriage but she's got enough self awareness not to be upset over it. Leaves the best gift by far, and she does end up trading recipes with Alfred by the end of the night.

If he's dating Grant:

Slade - Not exactly mad, but he is annoyed. He rolls his eyes but looks away when Red X is chasing the second Robin around Gotham, but he draws the LINE at his son giving up mercenary work to be Red Hood's lieutenant. Especially because it looks,,, serious, and serious means he'll be related to the bat sooner rather than later. 98% sure they're doing it to upset him specifically (he's wrong it's only like 25% for that)

Joey - In counter to Dick and Rose, he's actually pretty supportive. He thinks it's cute and he's glad that Grant has a good influence, but he'll be near the front of the line if Grant fucks it up. He's not as supportive about the pining stage they go through, mostly because he's the first person Grant laments to.

Rose - her bestie dating her BROTHER. Disgusted, betrayed, plotting their downfall. Absolutely thinks Jason can do better. She comes around to it faster than Dick only when she's entirely sure she can't do anything about it. Still bullies them both though.

Addie - Well. There are worse options. The real bonus here is her newfound connection with Talia. World's most controlling mother in law, loves Jason like one of her own sons though. Unfortunately that means he gets treated just like her other sons... Quality of the treatment is debatable.

If he's dating Joey -

Slade - Definitely the most upset in this scenario. That's undeniably his favorite kid and Jason... isn't the kind of person he thinks is good enough. Not that he thinks anyone would be. He doesn't go out of his way to drive Jason away per se, but he does put him through the most vigorous "tests". Begrudgingly respects Jason for passing most of them with flying colors.

Addie - Mother hen in law. Planning the wedding since day ONE. What's the equivalent of like, a sister in law but for the mom's of the spouses? Is that a thing? Regardless, she gets very close with Talia very quickly. Bruce Wayne's third biggest hater, she makes his life HELL.

Rose - Better than Grant. Still not happy, but she accepts it more easily. Maid of honor but she swears up and down they're cringe and she hates it. Complains to Dick about it but they're both secretly fond.

Billy - Never booking a hotel without soundproof walls with them again.

[stubz]

The media usually get most things about time traveling wrong. Like, you can save people in the past without the space time continuum falling apart. As long as they're a nobody that is. Can't kill Hitler but you could probably save your grandpa who died from a car crash.

Our technology does not stop working once we go to the past. We have office issued coms, computers, and music players. Yes we have music players. Listening to the sound of death in 1346 England gets old.

You can't bring someone from the past to the future and you can't stay in the past. If you do then it's a death sentence. That's the biggest thing they get wrong. It has nothing to do with time paradoxes or ripping the fabric of reality. Its just how the body and mind react.

When bringing someone to the present their body will hyper age and that will kill them. Even if you bring a kid from 2000 to now they will likely be brain dead. The mind and body simply can't handle the stress of hyper aging.

Staying in the past is a death sentence because you can't die. For whatever reason, a person from the present can't die in the past. They can't get sick, age, any injury they get simply disappears. They are paused in time and only when they return to their time will things resume. Sounds fine right? Well it is if you don't go too far back.

We have a cautionary tale. A senior officer, Wilson, decided he'd like to retire and live during the renaissance. Everyone knew he wouldn't die so it became an experiment. The check ins started at once a week then once a month then once a year until Wilson insisted he'd be fine and to not interrupt him until the end of the renaissance.

As a senior officer with an unblemished record his wish was granted.

300 years he was left alone. 300 years he lived as a immortal. He met dozens of famous artists and poets. Saw their works at the grand revealing. Enjoyed a life of luxury thanks to his pension that made him the richest man throughout the time period.

We all wondered about the stories he would tell us when we saw him again. How would he act after living in the past for 300 years? Did he still have any trace of his Boston accent or was it lost forever? What did he miss from the present?

He missed death. Grabbed a time machine from one of the doctors, went to the present, and stuck himself with the closest thing he got his hands on. It was a pair of office scissors.

Quick. We were all surprised by how quick it was. There were no signs or clues. Wilson greeted the group with a smile, hugged Dr Bishop his old friend, gave them a thick leather journal, the rest you know.

Through reading his journal we understood why he did it. There were so many. Too many. Pages upon pages of names.

Wilson had written down the name of every deceased loved one he had during those three hundred years. He had lost 50 close friends, 2 wives, 13 adopted children, and 20 apprentices. And that's just from the names we could read before the writing becomes illegible.

We've had a dozen others after Wilson, one was another attempt while the others were stranded and lost. Being trapped a hundred years back in time has a 98% survival rate as the majority of the lost have people they will meet soon that will help with the grief. Grandparents, parents, even old teachers, that's how Scott Nolan passed the time, became roommates with his old high school principle throughout the 1950s.

The farther back they're stranded the smaller their chances of rehabilitation are. 200 years back has a 65% success rate. 300 years has a 25% success rate. Now of course it all depends on how long they are trapped there. A week in 3000 BCE will not turn you into Wilson but finding the lost isn't always easy. We have so many rules and protocols to find them as fast as possible but things happen.

Broken time machine means you're trapped and that we only have the year you went to. Broken comms equals no area location. Failing to send out a distress signal means that control will not send out a team until after you missed your check in. And that's for missions, unauthorized trips are a whole other thing.

All in all 80% of the lost are found and recovered within 48hours. After those 48hours those numbers I just mentioned start to become real.

It's been a month.

You're probably wondering now how does a time traveler become lost and stranded? Human error. Machine error. Doesn't really matter. No matter the job shit just happens. Mine was human. Misheard the coordinates and now I'm here in the Paleolithic period with a dead time machine.

No one knows I'm here. Control thinks I'm in Japan during the Edo period with the rest of the clean up crew. Clean up crew probably haven't reported me missing, I was given a free pass to miss work so they must think that's what I did. Neither will know I'm missing until the job is done.

What then? Cleaning crew don't have personal comms. Time machine is dead and there was no distress signal.

The longest time a lost was stranded was 1500 years. Bachelor party gone wrong. It took control a month to find them all as they had all ended up stranded in different times. The groom was found last. By accident. An officer on a mission in 1830 West Africa miraculously found him after hearing rumors of a monster roaming the plains.

He was an animal in human skin. It took ten years for him to be rehabilitated. The bride was there every step of the way. He still requires monthly check-ins however.

Wilson lived three hundred years and died. The groom lived fifteen hundred and survived. Let's see how I do.

[kale-of-the-forbidden-cities]

Just thinking about Fitz and Keefe. They're both so jealous of each other. It spiraled into more and more talking about fitz and vacker imperfections and stuff, enjoy :>

(I rambled out the draft on discord, but I did change a few things and add on a bit at the end, so if you feel like rereading it might make more sense now)

tw: breif mentions of ed, suicidal thoughts, and implied sh, but they're all like very brief and not descriptive just want to put a warning

Remember in Flashback when Sophie and Fitz were going all Fitzphie on Keefe's mind, and they found the memory of Alden telling Keefe he was proud?

Imagine it hurt so bad for Fitz when he watched that. Because Alden never says that to Fitz even when he came out on top, no matter how perfect he was, so why did Keefe get that kind of praise?

Keefe may have come out second to Fitz with Foxfire grades, but Fitz has always felt second to Keefe in everything. No matter how perfect he tries to be or how much of a people pleaser he is, it seems inevitable that everyone likes Keefe better anyway.

And how could they not? He's funny, he's messy, he's imperfect.

Fitz could never be like keefe. His family would hate him. But they still like Keefe better.

Alvar always liked Keefe better than his actual little brother. Even though Fitz looked up to Alvar more than anyone! He admitted that in Neverseen!

Alden told Keefe he was proud of him?? for coming in second? Even after all the studying and work Fitz put into being first, being top, being perfect, people always choose keefe, Which is one of the reasons Fitz was so insecure about Sophie spending a lot of time with Keefe while she and Fitz were dating, he was scared she was going to leave him for Keefe, like people always do, because he's just better. he's nicer, he doesn't lash out at people, he doesn't have as much pressure on him because he never cared about pleasing his parents.

AND SHE DID! Sophie did leave him for Keefe. Even though Fitz promised to take things at her pace. Even though he said he'd wait. But it was the match lists that ended up breaking them apart. But what was Fitz supposed to do?? Not care about the match? There had never been a Vacker bad match, and Fitz beign the first one, after everything Alvar did and how much all the Vackers already hate these five in particular, it would bring a whole new level of shame on the family. Not just him, but Biana and Alden and Della too.

Keefe is allowed to not care about this stuff, because he's not perfect. Fitz is so, so, so jealous of Keefe because he GETS TO BE IMPERFECT. HE'S ALLOWED TO MAKE MISTAKES. He's allowed to feel things.

Keefe's parents are awful, Fitz's parents are fine. Anytime Fitz dares to think "hey maybe my parents are manipulating or using me or putting unrealistic expectations on me" he also remembers that he has it GOOD. He's so lucky compared to everyone else. So he has no right to be upset about anything.

In Flashback, Fitz actually says something like this to Sophie: Sophie had to grow up with humans, Keefe has his whole thing with his parents, Dex was bullied for being the son of a bad match, Tam and Linh were banished… so he's had it easy! He has no right to feel sad when his life is just. so. perfect.

And the thing is, everyone thinks his life is perfect. Especially Keefe! Keefe is always talking about how the Vackers are perfect and lucky and he wishes he was one, when inside, Fitz would secretly rather be Keefe. Even with the whole everything with his parents, at least he doesnt have to be perfect! At least he's allowed to disappoint his parents, because theyre bad parents! And people always like him more. Without fail, Fitz has always felt second to Keefe. Every time he thinks he did good, people go to keefe for being imperfect.

Why did keefe get Alden's praise when he came out second in the level? Fitz barely slept to make sure he came out on top! If Fitz had gotten 98/100, he wouldn't be yelled at, but he'd get a disappointed talk. Why is it different with Keefe, who isnt even Alden's son, why does Alden like him more?

So Fitz ends up spiraling and obsessing more and more.

He can't be imperfect like Keefe, he wouldnt dare. So he does what he can to be as perfect as possible. Maybe he just needs to get a hold on his temper. Wait till he's behind closed doors to do anything but smile. Maybe he needs to eat less, get a perfect number on the scale. Maybe then he'll be good enough.

But he's never good enough.

Nothing he does will ever be good enough.

Keefe is reckless, imperfect, and messy. but even though Fitz does his best to not step a toe out of line, he does everything he can to be perfect...... They keep picking Keefe. without fail, no matter what.

Fitz knows he shohld accept defeat, accept that he'll never be good enough for anyone because of everything he's done to try to be perfect, but he can't stop trying.

He'll keep pushing himself, he'll stay up for hours studying, looking for clues about the Neverseen, going through Alvar's old room, he'll do ANYTHING for someone to say theyre proud of him. For someone to tell him that he did good, for once in his life, but they never notice.

It's never "Wow, you've been working so hard, good job!" or "You look good, did you lose weight?" or "Thanks for helping out, thanks for at least trying"

EVEN THOUGH HE DOES NOTHING BUT TRY. HE'S TRYING SO HARD

Instead, people are saying things like "You look awful, you've got bags under your eyes" (maybe he should put on some makeup to hide that) or "You never join us for dinner, it's like you hate us" (he does. he secretly hates his family so much) or "You've gotten so distant that you're ruining all your relationships with your friends and family" (what else is he supposed to do? they dont like him anyway)

He's driving himself insane over being perfect, only to have people like Sophie say that he's "too perfect." HE JUST CANT WIN!

He's not allowed to make mistakes, but maybe the worst mistake he made was being too perfect!

But how does he stop?

He can't. he trapped himself here. He's convinced he brought this on himself, but he cant get out of this cycle,

And nobody else will get him out,

Because he's not perfect enough.

If they havent noticed his struggling, maybe they dont care enough. But Fitz has gotten so good at hiding it. Nobody will notice until he passes out in the hall or just fucking kills himself because it's too much.

Fitz thinks, why is it that Keefe's allowed to be open about hating himself, and yet as soon as he makes the slightest self deprecating comment, he's suddenly "being dramatic" or "looking for attention"?

And we're back to talking about Keefe again.

None of this is Keefe's fault but he will still feel so so guilty. He felt Fitz's jealousy and hurt when they watched the memory of Alden saying he's proud of him.

Keefe and Fitz are constantly comparing themselves to each other, but by the end of the story, Keefe will be getting the help and support he needs to move on from it. Fitz never showed it and wouldnt dare admit it. So he does not.

Alden and Cassius both seem to prefer the other's son.

Even with Fitz and Biana. There's still a bit of jealousy there, because Biana is starting to seperate herself from her family, and start her own "Vacker Legacy," whatever that means.

After Nightfall, biana has grown more comfortable with herself, she is challenging what it means to be a Vacker, realizing that their family isn't all it's claimed to be. She has no shame in being her fun confident self, and crying when she needs to, and showing off her scars, while if Fitz showed his scars, he'd probably end up in a psych ward or something (or at the very least getting yelled at).

Fitz is jealous of Biana almost as much as he's jealous of keefe. She's never been quite perfect either, but it's always in a good way, isn't it? she's managed to keep her friends (not including the earlier books) and she used to be a bit of a jerk to people, so people can look back and see how far she's come.

Fitz has only gotten worse over the years, and he knows it. he hears what people say in the halls. their whispers hardly hide it. He's presented himself the way he wanted to be - perfect. But it gets harder and harder to hide his imperfections, and people only notice the bad things, don't they? They don't worry, they only judge.

Biana's probably dealing with her own issues, as everyone in the Vacker family does, but she can be more honest about it. She's starting to break the habit of plastering on a smile and saying everything's fine. She's working on her relationship with people. She's like reverse Fitz.

Fitz fears he's going down a similar path of destruction to Alvar, but he counters those fears by being Alden's perfect golden boy like he was always supposed to be. Alden has such a hold on Fitz, he'd do anything for him if Alden worded it right. Ever since he was a kid he always knew he'd do anything to please his parents, even if it was potentially dangerous. But nobody has seemed to even bat an eye when they hear how young Fitz was when he went to the Forbidden Cities. So he must be overreacting, right? Because how could Fitz's childhood be anything less than perfect?

See, when Sophie started learning a little bit about Fitz's past and how things were actually not perfect in the Vacker house, she started to ignore him more and more. She had her other reasons, but to Fitz, it seemed like she was seeing how imperfect he really was, and he's not everything she hoped for. So he panics, and does his best to prove to her that he is the perfect boyfriend she wanted, but it didn't matter anyway because... she. liked. Keefe. better.

And Fitz hates himself so much for wishing he was keefe because Keefe has it so bad with the legacy thing, he hates how he wishes his parents were worse so he didn't feel so guilty every time he made a mistake that would disappoint them.

Not one person in Fitz's life has ever chosen him first. With everyone. There's always someone they love more.

Della loves Biana more, Biana chooses her friends, Sophie chose Keefe, Keefe chose Sophie.

Alden seemed to favor Keefe, or his work, or even just the ways he uses Fitz instead of loving him as his son or as a person. Maybe that's why Fitz is so desperate to listen to Alden, to please him, because he's the only person who seems to even care, even if he only cares when he's doing good or being perfect.

Alvar would choose Biana or Keefe over Fitz any day, even before the betrayal. Fitz still looked up to him, despite his vague dislike for Fitz. He likes Biana better because he thinks she'd understand better what the Vacker legacy is, Because FITZ IS PART OF IT. HE'S ADDING ONTO IT, WHATEVER IT IS!

Yep that's all I have, feel free to add your own ideas :3

tags:

@fitz-avery-vacker @autistic-daydreamer

[berniesrevolution]

PEOPLES POLICY PROJECT

Preface

Addressing Wealth Inequality

When discussing the inadequate and unequal structure of the economy, progressives tend to focus on things like poverty, income inequality, and wages. These are seen as the stuff of people’s everyday experience with the economy and as the areas that deserve our most pressing attention.

But the most unequal aspect of our economy is actually the way in which our national wealth is distributed. The top ten percent of American households own around three-fourths of the nation’s wealth while the bottom fifty percent owns virtually none of it. While the precise distribution of wealth has changed a bit over time, in the data that we have, the vast majority of the national wealth has always been in the hands of a relatively small slice of the population.

Most efforts to tackle wealth inequality focus on the national level. But states can and, in at least one case, have had a huge impact on the way that wealth is distributed among residents of the state. In this section, we look at wealth inequality in Washington and propose that Washington create an Alaska-style Permanent Fund aimed at gradually reducing wealth inequality in the state.

It is difficult to precisely estimate the level of wealth inequality in Washington state using public data sources.

The Federal Reserve’s Survey of Consumer Finances (scf), the nation’s preeminent wealth survey, only interviews 6,500 families across the entire country and does not reveal the states in which those families reside. The Census Bureau’s Survey of Income and Program Participation (sipp) interviews around 24,000 households across the entire country, but only around 700 in Washington state. The sipp also understates wealth levels at the top of the distribution through the use of topcoding and by failing to get survey participation from very wealthy households.

In order to overcome the limitations of these surveys, researchers are typically forced to make somewhat speculative adjustments that go beyond the survey microdata. For example, a recent WA report “hot decked” data from the American Community Survey (acs) with the Survey of Consumer Finances in order to overcome the scf’s low sample size and lack of residency information. This kind of hot decking works by assuming that acs and scf households that are similar in some respects—such as number of vehicles, home ownership status, and age—are also similar in other respects, such as wealth.

Hot decking allows the researchers to combine the big sample size and residency information of the acs with the wealth information of the scf, but the method basically amounts to assuming that WA’s wealth inequality is no different from wealth inequality in America as a whole. This is a reasonable assumption, but it also makes the whole exercise somewhat unnecessary. If WA’s wealth inequality more or less mirrors American wealth inequality, then one could achieve roughly the same insights by looking directly at the USwide scf data without the intermediate hot decking step.

In what follows, we take a somewhat different approach to overcoming the limitations of these wealth surveys. In our approach, we pool all of the responses from the four waves of the sipp survey that cover the years 2017, 2018, 2019, and 2020. Pooling these waves increases the WA sample size to around 2,400 households. As a proportion of WA households, this sample is 16 times the size of the scf sample as a proportion of US households. In the below graph, we compare the US wealth distribution in the 2019 scf to the US and WA wealth distributions in the pooled 2017–2020 sipp.

Overall, the three distributions look similar. In each, the bottom half of the distribution owns 1 to 2 percent of the wealth while the top half of the distribution owns 98 to 99 percent of the wealth. In the scf, the top 10 percent of US families hold 76 percent of the wealth while, in the sipp, the top 10 percent of US households hold 69 percent of the wealth and the top 10 percent of WA households hold 62 percent of the wealth.

This divergence is consistent with the fact that the sipp topcodes its wealth variables and does not get as much participation from very wealthy households as the scf does. The two figures may also differ because the scf family unit is not defined the same way that the sipp household unit is defined.

Here is another visualization of wealth inequality in WA using the sipp, graphed as a proportion plot.

One way to partially overcome sipp’s limitations when it comes to reporting the information of the very wealthy is to add information from lists of the wealthiest Americans, such as the Forbes Billionaires List. Adding the Washingtonian billionaires included in the Forbes list increases the wealth share of the top 10 percent of WA households from 62 percent to 66 percent.

This modification helps bring the wealth distribution closer in line with reality, but the resulting distribution still likely understates the percentage of wealth held at the top. For the remaining analysis, we will only use the data contained in the pooled 2017–2020 sipp. Rather than try to partially correct for its understatement of top wealth by adding in a handful of billionaires or imputing higher wealth levels from the scf, we think it is clearer to simply note that the sipp has limitations when it comes to accurately reporting wealth at the top end of the distribution and to ask readers to incorporate that fact into their interpretation of the following sipp statistics.

The SCF assigns assets and liabilities to families not persons. So, for example, in the case of a married couple with two children that owns a home, the value of that home is assigned to the family as a whole, not to one or the other spouse or the children. The demographic characteristics of each family, and thus the demographic characteristics of the wealth they own, are derived from the information of the reference person in the household. So, if the reference person in the above homeowning family is a Black, college-educated, 35-yearold man, the value of the home ends up characterized as Black wealth, college-educated wealth, millennial wealth, and male wealth, even if other members of the family unit have different demographic characteristics.

Unlike the scf, the sipp assigns assets and liabilities to persons, with household wealth being the aggregate wealth of the persons of each household. When assets and liabilities are owned jointly by multiple people, as in a family, sipp assigns their values fractionally to each of the joint owners. Thus, in the example above, if the Black, college-educated, 35-year-old, male homeowner is married, half of the home’s value is assigned to him, while the other half is assigned to his spouse. This means that, if his spouse has a different race, age, educational background, or gender, those demographic characteristics will show up as owning half of the value of the home. Because wealth is almost always analyzed on the household or family level, person-level distributions of wealth are rarely reported, even by researchers who use the sipp data. But the person-level distribution is also interesting and so we will include that distribution alongside the household-level distribution in this analysis.

In the following graph, we can see the difference between the person-level, adult-level, and household-level distribution of wealth in WA state over this period.

The adult-level distribution is more unequal than the household-level distribution and the person-level distribution, which includes the wealth of children, is more unequal than adult-level distribution.

The table below shows the wealth level of these three distributions at various wealth percentiles.

Across all persons, including children, the median wealth is $17,000. Across adults, the median wealth is $71,340. Across households, the median wealth is $174,880.

Race And Class

When comparing differences in wealth across race, it is common to look at the gap between mean and median wealth. The following table sums up these gaps for the person-level, adult-level, and household-level distribution in Washington.

On all measures, Black and Latino people have far less wealth than White people have. However, because White people are far more numerous in Washington than Black or Latino people are, the bottom of the wealth distribution still primarily consists of White people. This is true whether looking at the person-level, adult-level, or household-level distributions.

(Continue Reading)

[tobiasdrake]

Your statement about the lack of Goku’s “poison” in Gohan’s heart makes me very excited for your thoughts on Super Saiyan 2. It’s fascinating that at his most bloodthirsty, Gohan is willing to drag out a fight even more than his father would be.

Oh yeah. Super Saiyan is a hell of a drug. I talked a bit about it here but focusing in a bit on Gohan:

Accessing tremendous power for short bursts at a time was always Gohan's big thing. He's never been able to keep it up for any length of time, and consequently it's never been more than a momentary distraction for his adversary.

But it's what he had. This was the power that was uniquely Gohan's own. Originally referred to as Gohan being a "Super Saiyan" before that term was later redefined to mean something different.

It's honestly never been clear what these explosive bursts of ki and battle fury are supposed to be beyond "Something something hybrid Saiyan". Goten and Trunks are hybrids too but their abilities don't act like this. They're much more traditional Saiyans, whereas Gohan's demeanor seems like 98% human and the remaining 2% is him snapping into a momentary Saiyan battle frenzy.

"I'M SO MAD I'M GOING TO HIT YOU WITH THE MOST POWERFUL ATTACK I'VE EVER IN MY LIFE-- well that failed. Okay, I'm done. That was literally all I had."

Kinda feels like this is meant to be connected to Super Saiyans in some way, right? Like. Setting aside Nappa literally calling him a Super Saiyan, it's not that dissimilar to what happens to Goku on Namek.

After Frieza kills Krillin, Goku snaps. The same way Gohan typically snaps.

And he's filled with intense power and intense battle fury.

It's worth noting that in the race to see which proto-Super Saiyan would ignite their transformation first, Vegeta directly equated Gohan's snaps to the Super Saiyan and wondered if he was actually the closest of all.

He's ultimately proven wrong when it's Goku, not Gohan or Vegeta, who ignites his Super Saiyan transformation for the first time. But it certainly is interesting the way Gohan's hybrid powers and the Super Saiyan are being conflated, and I generally wonder if this is something Toriyama simply didn't elaborate on sufficiently.

Because this conflation of Gohan's hybrid strength and the Super Saiyan forms the basis of what would later be known as Super Saiyan 2.

Goku's plan for winning the Cell Games is to trigger Gohan's rage powers as a Super Saiyan. This became the focus of their training after he gave up on breaking the Super Saiyan's limits.

Limit-broken Super Saiyan forms suck actually, so Goku decided it would be better to perfect the form itself while working within its natural limits.

Instead of trying to trade up to a stronger Super Saiyan form, instead the plan became to become better at being Super Saiyans. Part of which, something Goku had already been working on with Gohan before he broke the limit, was reining in form's heightened aggression and battle lust.

This was pretty much the crux of their training. How do I Super Saiyan without bleeding ki? How do I Super Saiyan without blind fury? How do I Super Saiyan without berserker movements? How do I Super Saiyan as a martial art?

But you can also see the wheels turning in Goku's head in retrospect, can't you? The similarities between Gohan's rage power and the Super Saiyan? Goku's planning to use Gohan's rage flareups to defeat Cell. Meanwhile, for the focus of their training, he's teaching Gohan to resist the effects of enhanced aggression without losing the power it brings, instead mastering that power to make it his own.

Goku did a bit of a tricksy there, didn't he? There's a reason Kaio officially declared Goku to be a formal master back on Namek.

He does make a miscalculation by assuming that just being in a fight will be enough to make Gohan snap.

Gohan has the spirit of a hero, not the spirit of a warrior. He's only ever snapped as a reaction to people being hurt; Never to win a fight. Doesn't even need to be people he cares about; He once triggered to save a Namekian child in a village under fire. But that's where his motivation lies. His fury isn't battle lust, it's outrage for the mistreatment of other people.

So, bit of a flaw in the plan. Story wouldn't be interesting if everything went off without a hitch every time. But once it works, it works.

It's super weird that the Buu arc made this an attainable form for Goku and Vegeta because the way it's presented here is uniquely Gohan's own. What would later be called "Super Saiyan 2" in a way that is hilariously disrespectful to Super Vegeta and Super Trunks was originally just. Like. Gohan's rage power channeled and controlled through his mastery of the Super Saiyan.

The one fed into the other and the result was this.

Still compassionate.

But merciless.

And cruel.

Fun fact: The anime dials down some of the violence with Cell because some of the shit in this arc is gorey as fuck. Toei made all the Cell Juniors erupt into blue smoke upon death to avoid having to animate too much of the intense violence Gohan inflicts on them, such as that decapitation seen above.

They did a similar thing to Cell himself. Cell gets torn up quite a bit to show off his regenerative abilities, with the anime replacing shots of Cell's vaguely drawn but bloody insides:

With. Uh. Whatever this juicy rubber anus is supposed to be.

Anime Cell, I have so many questions about your internal biology. But I digress.

Gohan's first order of business is, true to the heart of his character, to snatch the Senzu away from Cell and help his friends. Even in the grip of even more Saiyan battle lust than Goku's training prepared him for, Gohan's still a hero first and a warrior second.

Gohan learns from his mistake, grows as a fighter, and resolves this time to bring an end to--STOP

HERO TIME

He just. He can't help himself. This is who he is in his heart of hearts. This is literally:

All over again. This is who Gohan is in his heart of hearts: A kindhearted and compassionate boy who cares more about helping other people than about winning fights.

Even the Super Saiyan can't take that away from him.

[grande-lando]

i can't even a little bit with this fandom today.

lando norris has the most points scored after max since the austrian gp. he's been driving the wheels off the car all year, and let's not forget that the car was almost stationary throughout the first races. it truly wouldn't have mattered if he had fred flinstoned that car back in Bahrain, he wouldn't have gone any slower than he actually did. he is the fifth lowest when it comes to money that he has cost the team when it comes to crashes. he's an incredibly safe driver who knows how to handle the car. he was p2 in the sprint shootout. p2. he’s not finished. fuck off with that rhetoric.

his race pace is miles ahead of his teammate's (and that's not a jab at oscar cause unlike some fans i do not enjoy pitting these two against each other).

i have seen so many comments aimed at lando about him not "handling the pressure", how he "needs to do better", "needs to learn to not make mistakes", "needs to grow a thicker skin" and i don't even know where to begin.

first things first, he's 23 years old. that's the fourth youngest on the grid. we sometimes forget about that since he was only 19 when he debuted, and therefore we've had the pleasure of watching him race for almost five years.

lando has been very vocal about his mental health. it was horrible when he debuted in 2019. he had imposter syndrome, was incredibly hard on himself, and didn't have a lot of faith in his ability, something that he said in a press conference with sebastian vettel back in 2021. he has managed to work at his mental health, become an advocate for others and has shown great leadership in the team since he had to step up back in 2021.

there are not a lot of things that people can "use" against lando to try and make him sim like a "grid filler" or a mediocre driver. most of the time it comes down to one thing, and that's sochi 2021. that race is what people use to claim that he can't deal with pressure. but what people omit and fail to realise or just don't care about is that sochi was on the team, not on lando as a driver. he made a call to stay on the slicks because the team told him the rain would stay the same until the end of the race and then didn't update him when the forecast changed. even lewis said he would have made the same call, with the same information.

it's amazing to see, that in all the years that he's been on the grid, there's one thing that can be thrown back at him, and you really have to be stretching, or just plain stupid, to even use that.

because of this incident, people like to say that he can't handle the pressure of being an f1 driver. that's bullshit. we've seen time and time again that he can, in fact, handle pressure. it doesn't matter where it's coming from.

there are others saying that he can't handle the pressure coming from oscar since he's only really had to measure himself up against carlos as a rookie, and then dan, who was fucking shit, but again, that's bullshit. he's still miles ahead when it comes to race pace, setups and tyre management.

does he put too much pressure on himself? probably. but that's the hunger. that's what's keeping him going, keeping him motivated.

does he beat himself up too much? in my opinion, yes but that also shows that he's never satisfied and that he will keep going and won't stop until he's achieved what he's set out for himself.

sure, he now has the most points scored without a win in f1, with half the fewer races than the one in p2. can you even imagine that? lando, who has never had the fastest car in his 5 years in f1, now has 525 points in 98 races! what a fucking goat.

and you're telling me he's fifth in the "most podiums with a win" with ten podiums? imagine getting this many podiums in the mclaren he's been driving in! sure, it's gotten better after summer break, where he has scored 4 podiums, but good god, he must be an excellent driver to be able to get 6 podiums in the trashcan he was driving in 2019-2022.

lando is a lot of things, and i would say, (even if i wasn't biased and i wasn't rooting for him), that most of those things are positive.

but what you cannot say is that he isn't winning material, and isn't passionate about the sport.

and for every single person out there who loathes him because he dared win against their fave, i can promise you that there are more people who love him. he's adored and respected in the paddock itself by the people who actually matter, and he is wanted by the biggest team(s) there is because of his race craft and intelligence.

i can say with a straight face that lando norris is wdc material, and i feel sorry for you if you can't accept that.

[luluplanc]

Review

Here’s my review of the Rising Sun documentary. Watching it made me feel really, deeply sad. This sentiment isn’t directed solely at The Rampage but extends to other groups I’ve seen featured in documentaries. There's often a recurring theme of placing adult expectations on young individuals, expecting them to handle responsibilities and demonstrate a maturity far beyond their years. I feel this pressure was particularly intense for the younger members, like those born in '97 and '98.

While I understand that being an idol is their chosen profession, I genuinely believe a different approach would have been better. Seeing them feel as though their spot could easily be taken by someone else was especially heartbreaking. Their anxiety must have been through the roof, and the stress they endured is almost unimaginable.

One member I felt especially bad for was Hokuto. I’ve always had a soft spot for those who come in without any background in music or dance, and for him, having no prior experience, to be suddenly thrown into such an intense training camp—it's hard to imagine the pressure. He even mentioned it was one of the most stressful times of his life. While it may look like a positive experience in hindsight, I can only imagine he must have been on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Furthermore, having them compete against each other didn’t feel right to me. They all shared the same goal of becoming idols, and it’s important to remember that, at that point, they were still kids. Imagine being a young teenager watching your best friend succeed while you don’t—that must be such a painful experience. They must have questioned their worth, thinking, "I’m not good enough," or "They’re better than me," or "I’m useless and never going to make it." That kind of pressure feels far too intense for such young people. I’m sure this doesn’t only apply to members of The Rampage, but from what I’ve seen, it was just too extreme for them. It’s clear that this experience has had a lasting impact—even now, if they aren’t giving 100%, they might feel as if they’ve failed or didn’t do well enough.

Reflecting on their feelings about the 2021 Tokyo Dome concert, I feel they’re being too hard on themselves. Despite the challenging circumstances, I believe they did an amazing job. Due to COVID, they couldn’t perform at full capacity, and their fans weren’t able to cheer, but I hope they understand that this was beyond their control and doesn’t reflect poorly on their performance. In hindsight, it might have been better to move the concert to 2022, but we can’t change the past; we can only look forward. Unfortunately, it seems this experience has stayed with them, making them feel like they missed a big opportunity. But at that time, there was nothing more they could have done. I truly hope they can appreciate that people showed up for them, and regardless of the numbers, if their fans were happy and satisfied, that’s what truly matters.

Lastly, I’m incredibly glad that from 2021 until now, all the members have worked hard to improve themselves, addressing what they once saw as flaws and celebrating the progress they’ve made. Although I couldn’t attend their 2024 Tokyo Dome concert, from what I’ve heard, they did an amazing job. Based on the documentary, it seems they felt delighted with their performance during the Tokyo Dome tour, and as a fan, I couldn’t be prouder. I’m so happy that they feel content with themselves and satisfied with this concert and all the hard work they’ve put in. I hope they continue as a group for many more years, as I feel they still have so much to offer to the world. I also hope they come to America soon—I’d love the chance to see them live. Cheers!

[mr-damian-s-power]

Sorry I did not mean for this to be this long.

I have two, both relating to the worldbuilding. This one is about how the visual aspect fails and the other is the written aspect, but they boil down to this: The Boiling Isles is the most bland, boring ass ‘dark’ fantasy world I’ve ever seen.

First off, even in the background it never really feels like fantasy world, maybe just a historic district with Halloween decorations.

The woods are just regular woods in autumn, Bonesborough is just a standard medieval/renaissance town with some eye and teeth iconography. The only time I felt we were in actual fantasy world was that brief scene in Latissa, the buildings look like they’re made of flesh, there’s pustules acting as street lights, the overview shots are far more natural and feel like they belong in the environment. The colors are dark yet vibrant, and it gives off a spooky, kind of Halloween-Town feel. I love that!

But we literally spend 98% of the time in Bonesborough, whose colors are predominantly shades of muted blues, grays and whites, and overall it feels too empty and tidy, like it’s not really a place where people have lived and worked for centuries at the very least. Yeah it has doors with eyes on them or roof races in the shape of teeth, but imho, they showed that one shot in the first episode and never lived up to it again, only harking back on it slightly for occasional ‘character observing the area’ shots.

Honestly I thought the Collector-controlled Isles were far prettier and more fantastical. Part of this I think is due to the artstyle, especially with the character design, bold, vibrant colors work better. And a lot of scenes just have such cold, impersonalable backgrounds. They don’t even have to be some eye-bleeding color explosion, just…not gray. There are some cartoons that have gray and muted backgrounds but they work with their art style.

And the woods aren’t much better. We seemingly only get ‘oh right, dangerous fantasy world would have scary woods’ when it’s plot convenient, but otherwise? It’s just more muted colors in a honestly pretty sparse forest. They apparently originally wanted far darker colors but it melted together too much so they opted for ‘bloody red’. I’m sorry but go look at the woods and tell me in what world is that a crimson color?

I know there’s a lot of crap that goes on behind the scenes and that with backgrounds and environments it’s especially difficult because you don’t want to muddy it up or distract the audience but I think that Latissa is a good example of how to do it right, it’s simple yet feels like it’s it’s own place with history and environment. Just a few bolder colors, make it more cramped and claustrophobic, that kind of thing.

The other thing with the environmental storytelling part of it is Dana took inspiration from Heirymonous Bosch’s paintings of Hell and illuminated manuscripts, and I just don’t get the feeling at all with the Isles we see for the majority of the show.

The second of far more agregous in my mind.

It’s seemingly stuck in the middle of wanting to be ‘like Earth but with magic’ and ‘ooh look at how different and inhospitable it is!’ For a world that’s supposed to be filled with monsters that will kill you for breathing and just stepping outside is risky to your life, the characters seem able to galavant about both civilization and wilderness without a care.

We get all these little asides in the first season about how they have boiling rain, skin-eating fairies, etc, but pretty much never factor into the story, and when they do, it’s either easily brushed off or used in the stupidest way. *coughBelossdeathcough* We have characters mock Luz and say she’s not strong enough to handle it, and even ignoring any Mary-Sue claims Camilla seemed to have no trouble with the more dangerous Collector Isles when she had nothing but a bat. When taking Luz’s OPness with sticky-note magic, it really neuters the dangers of the Isles, because it seems that half of the problems can be solved by being physically strong or clever with no magic required.

I am more forgiving of this, but the magic, especially near the end, went kinda off the rails in some aspects in power scaling, but also didn’t really stuck to the cooler concepts of that.

Abominations went from just creating and controlling golems to being able to craft anything with the material, yet we don’t get to see anything really big or flashy or even practical, Darius’s goo-form appears twice, making weapons or shields only happens a handful of times and it’s very quick and forgotten about(imagine if Amity went full on Mecha with abomination goo in the finale).

Bard magic can do completely OP things like control someone’s body like a puppet or change the molecular structure of something(put a pin in that) yet in the finale Raine just keeps flicking their bow across the strings to send out energy blasts and doesn’t use it to try and control things and sabotage Belos.

Illusion magic is able to dip into Oracle magic a bit and see memories, we even get a shot of Gus seeing Belos’s entire backstory yet this is never used or mentioned outside of Gus knowing Hunters a grimwalker. Even without that we see Gus can craft gigantic, in-depth illusions that can confuse and pyschologucally harm people, yet he never does this after Labyrinth Runners.

Plant magic, which in a fantasy world like the Isles would mean a number of poisons, toxins, and man-eating plants are at your disposal, and Willow’s only move is…vines. Granted, vines that seem indestructible and are able to take down things that likely wouldn’t be vulnerable to vines, but still…vines. (Which are also green despite the plant color of the Isles being red and it could e been a cool little aside for both Luz and the audience having to get used to seeing red for plants but oh well)

And the others…we don’t care about. The closet one is potions that seem to cover a wide variety of magic types(scrying potion-Oracle, Eda’s potions-Healing)and don’t need magic to do but whatever, why have Eda use her Potions upbringing to supplement her lack of magic when she can turn into a harpy and fly and..that’s kinda it.

Magic also supplements as variety of things, such as technology, and honestly? Not the biggest fan of how that was used just to give our quirky teen protagonists phones and computers-that they don’t even use that often so I don’t get why they were necessary except for ‘haha that Instagram right? Sooo relatable!’ It’s there just for asides and making the world confusing. Like how we can seen scrolls being used in Thems the Breaks, 30 years prior. Yet they seem to be only used for Penstagram, which also apparently only got updated to 2.0 during the second season, so what were they being used for before? And why is Penstagram so established if it’s that new and scrolls were used for other things before? I mean, as background jokes they used searching up disinformation and conspiracy theories and had characters not recognize any media site or conspiracy theories when using the Internet, so it might be a case of wanting their cake and eating it too.

Which is another issue that I can’t stand in isekai/other world type media. Regular human/person growing up it’s a regular human is able to reconfirm e the fantasy version of something, yet their mythical friends can’t understand that a car is like their horseless carriage.

Luz can catch on to the fact that scrolls and crystal balls are just our phones, computers and televisions but from a Halloween display, yet the witches can’t even tell what a shoe is (when they are 99% humans with pointy ears), or when one was made of mud. They refuse to accept animals or concepts that have the most basic information and dismiss Luz, like seriously, how hard is it to figure out what a paper clip is? Or that opposum are real when you know that animals like raccoons exist? Or the most annoying, there is a thing called a crow phone. We hear them call them ‘crow phones’ several times. But when Amity went to Willow for help about Luz? ‘I don’t know what this…pho-oo-on is?’

It’s done only for jokes and yeah it’s not supposed to be taken seriously but all it does is make the witches and demons seem incredibly stupid. Seriously Belos probably didn’t have to put that much effort into his campaign because apparently the residents of the Boiling Isles will accept literally anything at face value(didn’t even use that to make a point on propaganda smh).

This extends beyond the witches’ mental capacity and into ‘what exactly is this world?’ They don’t have technology above some steampunk blimps and automata, except for when they do because how else do they have modern western clothes like t-shirts and sweats? You can’t even say ‘oh it came in through a trash slug’ because Eda can literally customize and order t-shirts. In the literally the same episode, we see witches referring to the ‘four humors of the Titan’, which many people took as an idea that they have very limited medical and scientific knowledge, like no further than the 1600’s…only for Raine to be like ‘I changed its molecular structure!’ And it’s like what? How do you know what molecules are, or how to use your magic to change them in a way that just improves taste? You guys can’t figure out what a cheese grater is but you know about molecular properties?

Honestly I’d rather have a fantasy world just have phones and cars but they run on magic than this, because at least I don’t have to wonder how they know all these common modern ideas yet can’t figure out an umbrella even when someone tells them point blank.

Yeah, maybe it’ll be harder to explain an umbrella, but it’s not like the world tries to make any sense with he boiling rain thing. In fact, pretty much everything in the natural world in the show doesn’t make any sense because right when you can excuse it as ‘total fantasy, rule of cool’ it throws in something that kinda ruins it. In the case of the boiling rain, that’s not how boiling water works at all. I saw someone suggest it just being ‘stomach acid’ from all the titans’ giblets leaking into the sea, but even if we do that ‘it’s magic’ explanation of clouds heating the water up before it rains, it still has the thing of ‘if this is such a common thing, than why is anything vulnerable to it?’ Like the flora evolved and grew from the Titan, yet it doesn’t have natural protections against the rain? That leaf that Eda, Raine and King use in the finale seems to hold up fine so why isn’t all flora like this, or at least have it be part of their life cycle? On further note, why isn’t every building infused with a rain protection spell? Why isn’t there building material made to be rain resistant? Why does Eda have that magic barrier umbrella when we’re first introduced to it and never see it again. In fact, why isn’t that a thing? They have mass-produced clothing merch and stress toys yet they can’t make a push-to-activate protection spell for commercial use? It would’ve been cool to see how witches adapted and changed to the hostile environment, and far better than ‘lol like our smartphones’.

The ‘because magic’ excuse is also lame because it doesn’t even go that far or use it for crazy environments. Like the Titan is the size of Vermont, which is huge for a living being, but it is so tiny in the show. Apparently the Titan is based off of ‘the Earth is a corpse’ motif in several real mythologies but those corpses are far, far bigger, so big you can’t even recognize that it is a body. Yet several times characters get across the isles in minimal time, covering distances that shouldn’t be possible-not just in air, but on foot too. How did King and Steve get around the entire Titan in a motorcycle(even though the most advanced vehicles were steampunk airships) on dirt and cobblestone roads? How can something the size of Vermont(for reference, that’s about the size of Sardinia and Sicily and twice the size of Jamaica)be viewed in its entirety from a bird’s eye view and close enough off-shore that individual buildings can be seen? Or that it’s big enough to sustain several different biomes that are alluded to(but never seen)including a desert?

Then in the finale it’s big enough to reach into space from a prone position…yet we also see that the world is a globe. So these creatures, who were numerous and loved food, lived on a planet that was so small compared to them that they could reach into space by laying g flat and extending their arms straight up. This would’ve been a great spot for pure ‘because magic’, like the entire realm is a giant flat plane that eventually just falls off into nothingness and above the sky is like celestial heavens, but apparently not!

Also despite the fact that earlier it was stated that all landmass is made up of Titan carcasses there apparently was regular land just off shore, so close that the Titan is nearly touching it. Which from how much of the isles can be seen from just off-shore makes you wonder how nobody ever noticed that land or went over there.

There’s a lot of other things, like how abominations was said to be a good career path yet we don’t see evidence of that outside of Blight Industries which seems to be very exclusive, or that the ‘authoritarian’ government is completely laughable, but overall the isles feel like a bunch of people say around, said ‘hey wouldn’t it be cool if?’ And then added it in without any thought. But then both the show and fandom act like every aspect is some never-before-seen, not-like-other-shows star when it can’t even decide on its tone for the main setting.

You know, I was talking about this issue with a friend not too long ago. The Demon Realm loses its 'edge'. When it's introduced, they wanted to make it out like it's a dangerous place to live. There are vicious monsters around every corner, vegetables run away from being eaten, people have no qualms with harming or even killing children. Bump doesn't step in to stop Boscha from bullying Luz because it 'wasn't fatal' or something. So they clearly want to set this place up as a 'survival of the fittest' World.

But then, if they kept it this way, it would interfere with the story. You see, the Demon Realm is supposed to be a world worth saving, and the way it was initially presented isn't really that. If they kept everyone how it was, would the Day of Unity really have been THAT bad? "Hmm, is it really that bad that a bunch of bloodthirsty psychopaths are going to die?"

To achieve this, they had to really 'neuter' the Isles. Now, later in the series, a lot of the danger is just gone. Characters walk around willy-nilly with no threats around them. Where's the Witch-eating furniture? Where's the Boiling Rain? The monsters? Painbows? Gorenados? Where did they all go? Having your cake and eating it! This show's mantra!

Amphibia does a better job selling a dangerous world IMHO! There's a monster around every corner and the world is quite inhospitable, but the people are resilient and make due.

-

Ugh, yep! This is a world with 'magic technology', but the characters are still stupefied by our normal tech. This would have made sense if the Demon Realm were a low-tech medieval world, but it isn't. They want the characters to have magic phones, but still go "durr, what is this 'phone' you speak of?" It really does make the Witches look stupid if anything!

Owl House has plenty of issues with its worldbuilding! We could be here all day discussing them!

[vaguelyoriginaldrivel]

BULLET OF THE DESTINED END (GLOG CLASS: ASSASSIN)

Extremely, extremely belated entry to the assassin bandwagon.. was already like 98% complete I just never posted it lol. Anyways...

Great man theory is literally true. The story of the world is little more than a record of heroes, those born with the mark of destiny burning in their breast, blessed by the demon-gods of probability with the curse of IMPORT- of world-historical significance, great and grand and horrible, men and women with a fate so grand that its gravity shakes the heavens and tears up the world around them. You, too, have such a fate - but you are not conqueror or casanova, prophet or poet or promethean - rather, your destined end, the grand act which will sear your mark in history and end your mortal life is one dependent utterly on another of these historical personages - for it is you who is fated to kill them.

Starting equipment: A set of black dress-clothes, a wallet with a day’s wages, and a high-caliber revolver with 4 rounds in the chamber. Skill: 1. Religious esoterica, 2. Anarchist philosophy, 3. Theater

A: Bloodstained fate, Glatisant , 1 FD, 2 Flukes

B: Shadow Harrying, +1 FD, +1 Fluke

C: Lemure manifesto, +1 FD, +1 Fluke

D: Going to the Lordy +1 FD, +1 Fluke

Bloodstained fate

The iron hook of fate is lodged in your cheek, and the force of its pull drags you straight through the weaker fates of the broader canaille without a second’s thought. Until you complete the kill you are doomed to, you possess IMPORT, and with it Fate Dice. Fate Dice represent the power of your curse to warp reality around you to ensure you survive until you complete your work, through a set of manipulations called “Flukes”. Fate dice function identical to MD (cast flukes w/ them, return 1-3 exhaust 4-6 mishap on doubles doom on triples) except you can’t ever choose to cast with less than the full number of FD you have access to, for the forces of fate are great and powerful things beyond true control. Even when dice are exhausted, you still roll your max pool, just only count depleted dice for the purpose of dooms and mishap, not [sum] and [dice].

Glatisant susurrus

You can never quite relax alone. Anytime you go more than 30 seconds without perceiving the sight of a human face, the sound of a human voice, or the touch of a human’s skin, you start hearing the distant sound of barking. Every further minute that you go alone, it rises in intensity until it sounds like there’s twenty bloodhounds howling right in your ear. You’re utterly incapable of sleep, even through near-lethal doses of soporifics, and the bags under your eyes show as much. The mechanical benefits of rest you can gain only if you spend the time reading extremist literature, of the sort most countries ban or censor - and you need to constantly get new material, reading the same collection of pamphlets over and over again doesn’t count. You do get +3 to all initiative rolls though, if your system uses that.

Shadow Harrying

Something is following you, something great and terrible and exceedingly jealous. Anything you that would tie you down is destroyed within 4d12 days - any business you found, political party you start, or courtship you begin will end with all your partners and associates either throwing you out on the street, a primal fear visible in their eyes, or moving away to another province, state, or continent - or simply disappearing in the night. Vendettas against you end the same way - all charges will be dropped, all quests of vengeance overnight, or your pursuers or prosecutors simply fail to show up one day.

Lemure manifesto

Any flesh devoid of soul - from a still-cooling carcass to a chain of pickled sausage - will begin to speak to you. In horrid gurgling voices only you can hear, they tell you of the blackest secret sins of those in power, speaking as the childhood friend the coal magnate pushed into the ravine, the streetgirl drowned by the prince still carrying his son in her chest, and the little boy the archbishop brings into his bedroom at night. All these tales are true, and not a single one will be believed by any other than you - to speak them aloud will only have you shunned as a madman, even by those already inclined to believe.

Going to the Lordy

The path has opened up before you at last, you can feel it - the rattling in your teeth, the burn in your sinuses, the white spots dancing around your vision. You can use any fluke off the assassins list, even the ones you don’t formally know. You add an additional burnt-out FD to any Fluke you use that isn’t on your list.

Fluke list (d10):

Silver key

Tiger’s eye

Shield of the herd

Cat’s landing

Vulture’s cache

Blood-tap

Hand of Glory

False alarm

Corpsebirth

Resurrection

Silver key As Knock Tiger’s eye Look at up to [dice] targets. They must save or flee the scene at the first opportunity, struck by an overwhelming feeling of impending doom - a premonition of their own demise should they stay. Shield of the herd Next turn, up to [sum] damage that would hit you is instead redirected to nearby allies. At 2 or more FD, neutral parties will also take damage for you if no allies are within reach. At 3 or more FD, this works on enemies as well, should neither allies nor neutral parties be available, but this automatically burns out a FD . Cat’s landing As Feather Fall

Vulture's Cache

Choose any point within a hundred feet of you where something could reasonably be hidden (in a shrub, chest, behind a wall or under a floor, etc). Next time that location is checked, a human corpse is found. You may choose up to [dice] additional features from the list below.

Corpse is clothed, in any outfit you want - close inspection will reveal the apparel to be basically worthless

Looks nearly identical to a person of your choosing

Corpse of exceptional size - around 10 feet tall and 500 pounds of flesh and bone

Corpse saturated with poison or disease (your choice), consumption likely fatal

Second corpse with all the same features present

Corpse is only brain-dead, body still technically alive

Blood-tap Choose someone within your line of sight that has taken damage this turn or the one before. They immediately start bleeding uncontrollably for [dice] rounds, taking d8 damage a turn from high-speed exsanguination. Hand of glory All creatures for the next [sum/2] rooms will be fast asleep when you enter. Creatures of [dice] HD or more may attempt to save in order to stay awake. This fluke does not work if an alarm of some sort has already been sounded, or if the creatures are aware of and/or actively engaged in moving towards you at the time it is used. False alarm Within a few blocks, up to [dice] alarms of any sort are automatically triggered - whether bells, signal fires, or simply shouts of “intruder!” or “fire”. You can choose, roughly, the distance from yourself and direction from which the alarms sound, though nothing else. Corpsebirth Touch a corpse no more than [sumx2] hours dead. From its loins crawl a newborn babe, its own offspring, with a family resemblance that starts out immediately obvious and only grows moreso as the child matures. Only works on a given corpse once, but is not limited by species or sex - if the corpse would normally be incapable of carrying a child, the babe is instead found hiding within the folds of it’s clothes or held tight beneath it’s arms. Resurrection Triggers automatically when you would die with FD remaining. A day and a night later, return to life with [sum] temporary hp, all FD burnt out, and permanently gain an additional burnt out FD. Note that if you’re buried, cremated, or separated into different pieces before returning to life, you just die again immediately.

Mishap: Every 7th mishap automatically triggers a doom. Also, (d6)

Your pockets rot and unravel, your wallets burst and your bags spill - any money you are carrying

A great black dog (2HD, ac as chain, bite as medium weapon), shows up within 1d4 rounds and attacks you.

The local law enforcement, or closest equivalent, is alerted to your presence, and sets out to arrest you for your many crimes.

You slowly and painfully vomit out a tangled ball of hair, dripping in blood and interwoven with teeth.. also take d8 damage.

When you next return to your camp or residence, you find it ransakced and destroyed, everything not bolted down clawed apart.

A local politican, businessman, or equivalent authority figure decides to target some person or group valauble to you, whether brother, husband, or simply the only guy in the city who can get bagels with lox right.

Doom:

You see it, at last. It flashes through your mind - your life’s purpose revealed in an instant- the iron weight which has crushed all your ambitions, all your projects and prospects - and the holy mission which alone justifies your wretched existence. Choose (or ask your gm to choose) one character of world-historic significance currently alive somewhere in the game world - a great and mighty queen, an artist of era-defining genius - another one chosen by fate to actually matter. It is now your life’s mission to kill them

Your meddling with fate has brought you this far, and so fate meddles to with you. The next time you’re in a public venue, you see them - your target, appearing right before you - and you can’t take the shot. Your hand freezes as it touches the gun - you lock up like a statue, the opportunity too much to be ar -and they escape without ever noticing you’re there.

No longer can you sit idly by - no matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing, it matters not. All other concerns melt away, and you go bounding away, heedless of restraint- no chains can hold you, no walls can bar your way. You lose yourself in the ecstasy, the sense of drive, the force of destiny has its hand in your skull and it’s head in your loins - within a day and a night, your mission is complete. Immediately after, you lose all templates and all experience - the world has no more use for you, and so as the police track you down none of your old tricks shall save you - with your destiny fufilled, you are fated now only for your Doom.

[wookofwallst]

(Article) SAG-AFTRA union members overwhelmingly agree to strike.

With the WGA strike wrapping up today after 148 days of stoppage and strong protections being negotiated. It looks like another strike is gearing up and getting ready to go.

SAG-AFTRA claims that 98% of those who were asked if they would participate in a strike agreed to do so. 35 thousand members have agreed to walk out and strike if nessicary.

Several attempts at negotiations since October of 2022 have failed with the following game companies:

Activision Productions Inc

Blindlight LLC

Disney Character Voices Inc.

Electronic Arts Productions Inc.

Formosa Interactive LLC

Insomniac Games Inc.

Epic Games

Take 2 Productions Inc.

VoiceWorks Productions Inc.

WB Games Inc.

These companies have refused to offer acceptable terms on a number of issues, including wage increases, protections against artificial intelligence, and safety precautions. Without the hardworking labour of these companies employees they wouldn't be able to publish the games they do. Without the immense pressure put on the employees, they can come out with a game that actually works and is created. Companies, especially video game companies, have been seeing record profits and record profits should mean record wages.

President of SAG-AFTRA Fran Drescher says that:

“It’s time for the video game companies to stop playing games and get serious about reaching an agreement on this contract, The result of this vote shows our membership understands the existential nature of these negotiations, and that the time is now for these companies — which are making billions of dollars and paying their CEOs lavishly — to give our performers an agreement that keeps performing in video games as a viable career."

The biggest concern of union members is the unfettered use of artificial intelligence. AI has already been used in several key places like posters and in-game art. SAG-AFTRA wants to ensure that its voice actors and actresses, writers, and anyone else who is a memeber are not being exploited for their labor.

Looking at the WGA strike that just ended, several consessions were made in favor of the workers. They will receive a 12% pay increase, 5% on ratification, and 3.5% over the next 2 years following the agreement. They also relieved a 76% increase in streaming residuals. Depending on the size of the next project, laborers will receive a garuenteed 10-20 weeks of work.

I'd expect something similar to take place with the new SAG-AFTRA strike. It will be interesting to watch, I stand with all those in a union to create better working conditions and a more sustainable future for themselves!

[soylent-crocodile]

Converter Beast (Monster)

(Converter Beast by Uriah Voth)

CR9 LE Huge Aberration (Phyrexian) HD14

A converter beast is exactly what it sounds like- a creature engineered by Phyrexia to assimilate and convert enemies and captives on the fly, the collective’s ultimate goal of conversion of flesh and eradication of culture manifest in a single squamous form. Creatures swallowed by the converter beast are trapped in its cage of bone and drenched in choking phyrexian oil, their flesh and minds slowly corrupted into phyrexian soldiers of compleation.

Converter beasts are ill-equipped to work alone, however, with their blindsight limited and their minds dull and obedient. Most frequently they are accompanied by a huntmaster, a phyrexian ranger trained to thrive in whatever environment they and the converter beast are assigned to. Notably, huntmasters are frequently converts from the populace and region they return to besiege, one of the highest ranks such a phyrexian can reach without having been born a newt or sculpted from scratch. It is the role of these huntmasters to guide them to suitable prey and keep their instincts leashed when the time does not call for it. The beasts, for their part, are obedient servants who know better than to challenge their master’s commands.

Some converter beasts, however, are simply dropped into their environment with no such commander. This is done when subtlety and precision is unneeded, as an unleashed converter beast is just as likely to convert a target as it is to shred it with its tails and jaws.

This large, lizard-like creature has an array of spikes forming a thick cage on its back and a tail that splits into three lashing segments. Misc- CR9 LE Huge Aberration (Phyrexian) HD14 Init:-1 Senses: Perception:-1, Blindsight 60ft, Scent Stats- Str:26(+8) Dex:8(-1) Con:25(+7) Int:3(-4) Wis:8(-1) Cha:13(+1) BAB:+10/+5 Space:15ft Reach:10ft Defense- HP:161(14d8+98) AC:20(-1 Dex, -2 Size, +13 Natural) Fort:+11 Ref:+5 Will:+10 CMD:29 Immunity: Acid, Curse, Disease, Poison Weakness: Special Defenses: Mycosynth Flesh Offense- Bite +16 (1d10+8 plus Grab), 3 Tail +14(2d4+4, 18-20/x2, 20ft reach) CMB:+20 Speed:60ft Special Attacks: Lashing Rend, Swallow Whole (40hp, AC16, 1d4+1 Wis damage), Fast Swallow Feats- Multiattack, Lightning Reflexes, Iron Will Skills- Survival +10 Spell-like Abilities- (Caster Level 11, Concentration +12) Deathwatch, Psychic Link /Constant Acid Spray (DC16) 3/day Ecology- Environment- Any Languages- Necril (Can’t talk) Organization- Solitary, Attended Beast (1 Converter Beast, 1 Compleated Ranger 11) Treasure- Standard Special Abilities- Lashing Rend (Ex)- A creature hit by two or more of a converter beast’s tail attacks in one turn must make a DC18 Reflex save or be knocked prone and moved 10ft towards the converter beast as with the Drag maneuver. Psychic Link (Sp)- A bound converter beast has a mental link with its huntmaster, as with the spell Mental Link. Swallow Whole (Ex)- A converter beast can hold 4 medium creatures, 16 small creatures, or 1 large creature in its stomach. Additionally, if a creature breaks free of its stomach, that does not free any others and it can still use its swallow whole ability, as sharp trapping horns erupt to fill any gaps. If a creature is brought to 0 Wisdom by a converter beast’s swallow whole ability, it makes a DC12 Constitution check. If it succeeds, it removes all damage and gains the Phyrexian template. If it fails, it is rendered unconscious as usual.

[yetisidelblog]

Since we last sounded the alarm about Trump’s Project 2025-based plans to destroy the Department of Education, Trump has signed an executive order and authorized wrestling executive-turned-Education Secretary Linda McMahon to fire 1,300 employees – more than half the Department’s staff.

They claim they will “protect” student loans and children with disabilities, but they know well that if Congress passes their bill, it will leave every child’s right to a public education in tatters.

If enacted, the GOP bill would affect all federal student loan programs. Over $1 trillion in Pell Grants, Educational Opportunity Grants, TEACH Grants, work-study, and subsidized and unsubsidized student loans would be transferred to other departments or sent to the states, leaving millions of students in an uncertain limbo regarding their financial aid, loan payments, and repayment obligations.

Abolishing the Department of Education would end enforcement of Title IX protections and Title I funding, deepening the divide between the privileged and the disadvantaged. States would have to choose whether to educate children with disabilities, with some states inevitably failing the challenge. The burdens would fall heaviest on families and states with the least resources, forcing them to scramble for alternatives without federal support.

Ultimately, gutting the Department of Education has the clear intention of weakening public education throughout the country, softening the ground for massive privatization, and stealing resources from those with the least.

The result: A two-tiered system where education becomes a privilege for the wealthy, rather than a fundamental right for all.

Send a direct message to demand that Congress save the Department of Education and decisively reject this radical attack on public schools now!

The good news is: The majority of Americans of both parties are opposed to shuttering the Department of Education. According to a Quinnipiac poll conducted in early March, 60% of registered voters oppose the plan, while only 33% are in favor of it. Only 1% of Democrats are in favor, while 98% oppose it.

This means that Democrats can actually stop this attack – but only if they stick together. If all House Democrats vote against the bill, just three Republicans in swing districts responding to the concerns of their constituents could certainly kill it. And even if it passes the House, Senate Democrats could still preserve the Department of Education with a filibuster.

But Congress will not do this without a massive public outcry. That’s where we come in.

Congress must know that these destructive plans will be met with unshakable opposition from the American people! Every member of Congress must be reminded that the people who vote for them demand the right to quality public education.

If we permit this reckless bill to move forward, it will deprive young people of opportunities, threatening the future strength of our nation. We are strongest when every child and every young person, from every background, has a real chance to fulfill their potential.

Congress must hear from us! Sign and send a message to your members of Congress to stop Trump’s radical anti-education agenda, protect the Department of Education and defend students’ futures now.

Thank you for standing up for the future of public education in America.

@upontheshelfreviews

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@akron-squirrel

@ifihadaworldofmyown

@justice-for-jacob-marley

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@what-is-my-aesthetic

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