#or the problem was in a certain thing I was trying to post yesterday

[riense]

Few sketches I did this…summer ?

I lowkey like Varre ones so maybe I’ll use them later digitally

[cy-cyborg]

Hi, I saw your rant-post about amputee representation and you brought up cyborgs/cyberpunk again.

Tbh I just stumbled upon your blog yesterday because I wanted to see what thoughts people on tumblr have about writing cyborgs, you know prompts, ideas, anything really and then I found your posts about amputee and realised that it's much deeper than just "okay what do other people think how to care about cybernetic enhancements?" but more like okay, I need to be careful in how I write this side character so I won't cause harm.

And yeah. I don't know if you answer asks like this but I was wondering since you mentioned it now again, how you wish the cyberpunk genre would represent amputees? Like what kind of issues should not be just "fixed" by tech no matter how advanced it is?

I would really like to try and represent my amputee character in a good way. I'm just a bit insecure on how to proceed.

Thanks!

Hey, I'm glad to hear that I made you think!

I have a post and video on my page (somewhere under all these asks lol) about the "prefect prosthetic" trope, which is a good place to start! Mainly, you want to focus on making something about the cybernetics different to the real thing, outside of just appearances. You don't want it to just be "arm, but shiny metal" - something about the way it functions should change.

For cyberpunk in particular though, I HIGHLY suggest looking at some of the shitty behaviour the irl prosthetic component manufacturers already do. Things like forcing amputees to have their logos on their bodies (and penalising us if we try to cover/remove them by voiding the warranty), which can actually be a problem for amputees wanting to go into jobs like acting or modelling, because you have a brand logo on you. Things like my prosthetic leg collecting data about me and my activity levels, which can be used against me to prove I'm not "using it enough" to warrant getting it fixed/replaced by insurance (in Australia, we have the NDIS but they work off the same principles) - that's also deeply unnerving to think about in general and you could take that a lot further in a cyberpunk setting. Also not making prosthetics for certain body types despite the tech being available, because there's "no demand for it" but they're the reason there's no demand. e.g. many companies don't make prosthetic leg components for people above a specific weight, because "people who are that big don't usually use prosthetics" but we don't use prosthetics because none of the existing components are safe for us to use, so we can't use them, which means there's no demand, so they don't make them and it becomes a weird cycle. this has contributed to MASSIVE issues with eating disorders in amputee circles as people desperately try to force themselves into the "acceptable" weight window so they don't loose the ability to walk.

Also, if you're going to tackle the "how much of your body can you replace with robotics before you stop being human/stop being you" question, be sure to tread carefully and remember that there are already real people who you might be (unintentionally) discussing the humanity of.

[h1biscusgal]

Blockages and fear : so close, but out of reach, how to destroy them to get what you want?

If you want to get straight to the point, scroll down.

Hey y'all! So as you may know, yesterday I posted that I'm gonna enter, right? My mindset was perfect, my timing was perfect, I just had posted a method (hypnagogic state) and I was really confident I could enter.

Now some of you will ask, "but Coco, you posted that you didn't enter! Why's that?"

Before I "tried" for the void, my mind subtly shifted, going towards a certain fear of a deadline I was having, because we all have them, right? Some want to do it now, maybe tomorrow there's something, some wanted to do it before a certain month rolls by, for me, it was because I got extremely tired these days with studying for my national held exams in June, that I was slightly burning out, so obviously, my mindset was not on "I will enter the void" it was more on "I HAVE to enter the void because of xyz."

And believe that's a mistakes, and it's calling yearning and desperation.

All of y'all know how CLOSE I get all the time, and yet it sounds out of my reach, weird, right? I managed to command myself to wake up in the void, last time entered it in 5 min, and yet here I am, still unable to identify what was it that's stopping me a bit, because y'all, there's no shame in trying and finding things along the way, I'm as human as everyone, so naturally I got frustrated, and sat down to see my problems, everyone has them, the key is to solve them.

Again, my blockage was the desperation, which a lot of us have that takes us nowhere, I used to have it 24/7 before but I managed to get it away, the deadline didn't use to bother me, either way I found out it's trying to creep in again, and now, let me show you a way we can both try to gently show our mind we could do it.

(first of all, all these methods and shit I post like these are not necessary at all, but since it works, it's helpful, here you go 🌺)

Identify the fear or block, this is something new to many of us, we've all been taught to just push the fear aside and throw it out of the window, no, it's alright, sit down and find what's the fear, what's blocking you from the mindset that should be "I can enter anytime, the void is me and I've been doing this since ages, I have no fear." Here is a coupe of lists of common fears people have when trying for the void :

Deadline for something.

Feeling tired of this reality.

Escapism.

Fear of the unknown in the void.

Boredom.

Fear of failure, doubt.

Overthinking and perfectionism.

Panic.

Victimized mindset.

There are many more, these are just some examples, identify it, for me it was wanting to get out of here from studying too much, as it was draining me, so, feeling tired of this reality, that's why desperation came along, now that we have found the root of the mistake, how to block it?

Choose a couple of days to reset your fears and blocks, guys I swear it helps so much, for example, 3 days to fix the thought of being desperate for the void, choose how many days as you want, minimum is one day.

During that given days that you have now, use it to your advantage to be aware of the fact that your fear did not exist, ever, be in that natural state that it wasn't even there. (Best is if you won't try for the void these days, simply act as if you had nothing to fear against the void)

Every doubt, every nagging, every negative thoughts? Banish them GENTLY, do not push them away, simply tell yourself "but that won't happen at all! I'm already natural with the void." This will help your mindset immediately and immensely.

Best affirmation you can say during the day is "the void is my natural state."

It is done, there is no blockage, I suggest doing the HMM method too, with the suggestion of "the void is so natural to me." Good luck y'all 🌺

[cleolinda]

I wish I had thought of posting this sooner: if you feel like you have to stay because of your pets, those lists do say which shelters are pet friendly. My best friend did run into the problem of a shelter being willing to accept her dog but not her bird (she has found somewhere to stay now). Here are some general tips on how to evacuate with pets:

If you will need to go to a pet friendly shelter during an evacuation, make sure you have the following items ready to go for your pet: a leash and collar, a crate [or carrier for cats or smaller pets], a two-week supply of food and water, your pets’ vaccination records and a current rabies vaccination tag, medications, and written instructions for feeding and administering medication. If your favorite four-legged friend is feline, be sure you bring kitty-litter and an appropriate container, too.

You may not have all of these things (like records) at hand, but as a general rule, try to gather anything your pet uses on a daily basis. I know some of this seems obvious, but sometimes people can just shut down because they get overwhelmed and can’t think through what to do, so they just stay. I wish I’d thought to look this up and post it days ago, but maybe this can help people make some last minute decisions.

If you can’t find a shelter that will take certain animals (I don’t know the restrictions per se), this article about FEMA efforts suggest that even getting a few miles out of the hurricane’s path can be safer. I don’t know the Florida terrain well enough to tell you how to get to higher ground, but even a parking lot miles inland north or south may be safer than your home near the coast. But be careful about getting caught in your car in the storm surge flooding, I don’t want to lead you astray—listen to experts, not me; these are last-ditch ideas we had to spitball yesterday (me on the phone in a different state) when things looked bad.

Anybody who has more info or better ideas for evacuation with pets or last-minute safety, please chime in.

[yorsgirl]

Fuck you . Gladly

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The embers of your jealousy is fanned when girls forget that your boyfriend is not available. The only problem – silent treatment is your go-to reaction. Good for Sukuna, he knows how to make you talk.

Tropes: Established relationship, smut

Warnings: Explicit smut, fingering, fellatio, spanking, degradation+praise, choking, rough/angry sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms(female), mentions of smoking and cheating, no curse AU, college boy!Sukuna, kinda toxic relationship, strong language, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word count - 3.8k

A/N: nope, sorry, this isn't the Sukuna fic whose sneak peek was posted a few days ago. That's a long one so it's taking time, instead I am feeding you this. Enjoy :)

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

Jealousy is a ugly thing.

From childhood, you were taught to always be poised and content with whatever you have. Limited resources, not the best outfit or not your desired commodities. Accepting and being satisfied with it was the norm.

Your mother said the same, "Jealousy is a ugly thing." When you admitted to be jealous over a certain classmate whose grades were higher than yours. I saw her cheating in the exam hall, words were on the tip of your lips but you resorted to keep the dirty secret to yourself.

Heard the same from your friend, "No need to be jealous, its the worst of emotions." When you fumed over how you can't go to a particular excursion (blame your strict parents) while she gets to go.

Jealousy is a ugly thing. Be content with whatever you have, even if it's not the best.

Oh- but fuck off to that age old quote that was thrown down your ears.

You get it. You really do, be glad with whatever you have and shit! And you are. You really are. But how could jealousy not play when others try to put their filthy hands on what is rightfully yours?

In this case, your boyfriend – Ryomen Sukuna.

You aren't particularly insecure about your relationship with him. Contray, you do trust him a whole lot and his mannerisms to the opposite gender doesn't defy your view of him. However, problems arise when a dumb bitch forgets that your boyfriend is not out in the market for her to rub herself.

Take yesterday for example – it wasn't long after Sukuna's practice match while you watched him from the bleachers. Silently, gushing to yourself of how gorgeous your boyfriend looked with the sweat dripping down his hair and forehead, the perspiration glistening on his skin and over his well sculpted abs when he pulled his jersey up to wipe his face, once his eyes landed on you– fuck it!

Ah– sorry, that went off topic... so where it was? Oh yeah!

Not long after his practice match did you watch that bitch Yorozu, literally jump out of the bleachers and run into his arms like she is his damn girlfriend. (She isn't). While you quietly, revelled over the fact when Sukuna without a bit of damn respect shoved her away, you couldn't shake out the fangs of malice growing inside you.

That brings you here, leaning back on the headboard of your bed with your phone clasped firmly in your hand, you scrolled through instagram. A rather pathetic attempt at ignoring Sukuna, who tried to strike up a conversation with you but you remained nonchalant.

"How long will you keep up that attitude?" Sukuna questions, leaning on the wall to your shared bedroom, a bored expression laces his features.

You don't answer, you don't even make the effort to look at him. It was perhaps, good time to just break your resolve for you've been giving him the cold shoulder since yesterday. Honestly, you don't even know why he's on the receiving end of your wrath. Sure, you are mad, but you are more mad over that wretched bitch than your boyfriend. But as you share no relation with her, its him who's suffering.

"Jesus Christ," Sukuna murmurs to himself, rolling his eyes as he steps up and sits in front of you.

He calls your name. You don't answer. He calls it again–his tone harsher. Your response is silence.

The next thing you know, your phone is harshly snatched away from your grip.

"What the fuck?!" You curse aloud, fire burning in your irises as you glare at him. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

He scoffs, "So now you talk."

You try to reach for your phone but his counter is putting it away with a hand extended out. "Give that back."

"No."

"Yes."

He grips your right wrist in a tight hold, not enough to hurt you, just to keep you in place.

"What the fuck do you want?" You ask, the attempt at pulling your hand away proves futile when he tightens his hold.

"For you to stop acting like a brat."

"Acting like a brat?" You could only scowl. "I was silent the whole time. Is breathing illegal for you, now?"

His carmine irises blaze with annoyance as he retorts back, "You know damn well, I am not talking about that."

"I don't." You had always been bad at lying.

"Fuck yeah, you do."

You don't respond to that, trying to reach for your phone which he is doing a damn good job at keeping away. "Sukuna," Warning drips from your lowered tone, "I am not in the mood. Give my phone back, now."

"Yeah?" A humourless chuckle leaves his lips, "You're not getting it tonight, deal with it." You grit your teeth, trying to keep in the bubbling anger which would flow out any second but sure the God's hate you cause Sukuna's next words crumbles every bit of your self-control.

"Besides... why do you need it anyway? What?" He raised an eyebrow. "Texting some bastard while you I am in your no communication zone."

That's it. The fucking audacity.

Cheating. Something you can never speak or joke about, and he knows it still the God damn audacity to spit shit in front of you as if you're the one whose locker would be filled with love notes on valentine's day.

"You fucking asshole," You stand up, pulling your wrist away from his grip. Rage pours tumbles out of the dam, pouring through your every vein, every bone, every pore. "You have the fucking audacity to accuse me of cheating when you're the one smooching of other girls."

There's bad move. Then there's the worst fucking move of all.

This was the latter.

Sukuna rose up instantly, his gift of height gave him the upper hand to easily glare down at you. "The hell did you just say?" His tone turned a note low, the deep raves of his voice enough to warn of the impending danger.

Did that scare you? Maybe. Were you going to back down and say sorry? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

You scoffed, folding your hands over your chest, "Oh, you heard me." It was entertainment. Pure entertainment. Watching him riled up over a simple accusation. Hell, you'd pay to witness it again and again. "Do I have to say it again to your face, cheater?"

If he's so much offended to be labelled as a cheater then he shouldn't have brought up the topic in the first place. It doesn't make sense on what type of logic, you're backing yourself up but if rationality worked in cases of fueling rage and huge egos then there'd be no wars in the first place.

His response could only be grasping you by the throat, firmly as he roughly pushed you back on the wall. "I am the cheater? I've been nothing but loyal to you."

"The last time Yorozu–"

"She was clinging to me and I pushed her off, what more do you want?"

Nothing, I am just fucking jealous. That's what, you should be saying but you don't cause- cause you just can't.  You grit your teeth and resort to profanity, "Fuck you, nonetheless."

"You stupid bitch," His grip around your throat tightens and that's when you're finally aware of your position. With your back pressed against the wall and his calloused hand grazing over the pulse point of your throat–this situation could not be more intimate.

You are hit with his cologne mixed with the musky smell of cigarette which, you assume, he had smoked before coming to you. A heat burns in your core as you notice the intricacies of tattoos that marks his visage; each one luring you to trace your fingertips over them.

You're still antsy and a flurry of provocative insults are resting on the tip of your tongue which would be spit out any second but- but what could be the better time for your estrogen levels to rise?

It's not long after that you mutter a curse under your breath, your fingers find their way to his collar; a second later–you are locking lips with him.

Sukuna's initial shock of the situation is evident as his lips doesn't move against yours. Yet, he indulges soon, his eyes flutter shut when he responds with equal fervour and fire. He tilts your head back, his tongue lapping over your bottom lip and a sigh escapes him when you give him access. His free hand find their way over to your hair, tangling his fingers through your strands as he tugs them back – deepening the kiss.

You groan against his lips at the surprise pull. His tongue prods inside your mouth, engaging in a harmonious dance with yours – swirling and lapping with it. His hold on your throat was tight, cutting off your air supply while his mouth moved against yours in a rhythm. Allowance of breath was gratified once he felt your mouth tighten against his. You gasped and panted for air, his hold on your throat loosening just a bit. When you looked up, a suggestive smirk was plastered against his lips and damn– wasn't that just irksome.

Sukuna pulls you closer, nibbling on your earlobe which incites a rather sinful moan from your mouth. "All that attitude and you wanted this. Should have just said so, princess." It's almost mocking on how he used the nickname.

"Fuck you."

"Gladly."

Said so, his mouth again presses over yours, harder than the previous time. The passionate liplock lights the fire in both of you as Sukuna's hands glide down from your hair. Caressing the curves and contours of your body before finally resting on the plump flesh of your ass. He squeezes your buttocks while trailing feather-light kisses down your jaw and lips.

"Use your words from next time, princess."

Fuck it. Fuck him. He is smirking. You can't see it but damn, isn't it palpable? Your eyes are shut tight as his hand moves from your buttocks to your thighs and upto your thong. "Fucking soaked," He hisses under his breath, feeling the large wet splotch that has settled over your the fabric.

"Ngh– Sukuna," A breathy moan slips past you as he palms you over the garment, tracing the outline of your clit and entrance. His attempt at teasing you is working dangerously well and you have to restrain yourself from giving into this wanton pleasure. You grip onto his biceps, nails digging into the muscles from over his shirt. "Stop fu-fucking teas–ing me."

"Am I teasing you? Mhm nah, I don't think so." His heated breath falls hot over your neck as he licks a line over the curve of it. "Tell me, what do you want me to do?"

You don't answer, silently scowling at him but that's his cue to slide your thong aside and caress the skin over your needy pussy. He knows what you want. And he knows only he can give it you. But he won't. Not until you say it. And you won't say it cause you're damn stubborn and you've got to show him that you're still mad which is proving difficult under his skillful ministration.

Well, that isn't a bother to him, you can stay with your resolve all you want while he enjoys playing with you.

"F-Fuck it– Sukuna–," You whine, pushing your hips towards his fingers to just receive an inch of stimulation but that's fruitless. The attempt at clamping your legs shut is the worst play you could make as Sukuna harshly slaps your pussy.

"Keep those legs spread like a good whore."

You hate him. You really do. You hate him for the certain joy of degradation mixed with praise – one, only he can evoke from you. The phrase had a electricity shoot to your cunt causing it to throb as a sheen of sweat formed over your forehead.

The grip over your resolve breaks and you find yourself speaking before you can even think, "Fuck– Sukuna, need you, ngh– now."

"Now, that's like a good little slut." Sukuna doesn't need to be told twice before two of his digits delves inside your aching cunt while the rough pad of his thumb presses over your clit.

You throw your head back at the needed stimulation and courtesy to Sukuna's hand tangled in your hair–shielding your scalp from hitting the wall. The flurry of curses and moans leaving your lips could have been recorded. His fingers move in and out of your cunt in a fast pace while your pussy sucks them in. He hits your g-spot and that has your eyes rolling back in your head. The squelching noises from your pussy and your breathy loud whimpers reverbrates through each and every corner of your room. He draws circles over your clit, scissoring his finger in a V, stretching you out.

"Eyes on me, princess," He murmurs in your ear and you comply soon after. Gazing in his crimson eyes darkened with lust, a shiver runs down your spine as your legs tremble while he fingerfucks you like playing the keys to a piano. "Watch the only man who can make you cum like this."

It's possessive and diabolical. He has no right to act such when you aren't even the one who's going around entertaining the opposite gender. But you don't have any bit of resilence left in you to tell him to fuck off. Besides with the amount of strings he's pulling, its only a second later that you spasm and milk around his digits.

Sukuna pulls out his fingers from your hole, gazing at the slick and fluid running down them with amusement flickering over his irises. Yet, he pushes them to your mouth, pulling down your lower lip. "Clean up your mess, brat."

You keep your eyes on him, taking the same fingers which was in your cunt, in your mouth as you lick them clean.

"Yeah? Like that? It's yours, princess." You hum in response. Your brain is still hung up on the earlier scenario, and even though getting off on his fingers did relieve your frustration. You're still not satisfied. Nay, you aren't letting him off the hook that easily. That's when a rather vile idea conjures up in your brain, a smirk escapes your lips.

"Hm, whatcha smiling about?"

You could only laugh, "Ah– you'll know." It's in a second that it happens – the tables turn. It's now Sukuna with his back resting against the wall while you smirk up at him. Your hand slid down to his sweatpants and damn– his clothed bulge could only compare to the actual thing. You kneel down before him, a mischievous glint shadowing your eyes. "Let me return the favour."

You hook your thumb and pointer finger in his waistband, pulling down his briefs. His cock springs out, smacking against his abdomen and for a second, its like you get a brain freeze. Rock hard, and the veins are protruding out of the shaft. It isn't the first time, you've seen it but each time you do, realization hits of how huge it is.

"Less staring, more sucking, princess." Sukuna says from above, threading his fingers through your hair.

"Oh no, just admiring a work of art," You reply with a sickeningly sweet smile. It isn't a lie but it's sure a push to his ego. You look up at him, holding the base of his cock as you swirl your tongue over his mushroom tip.

"Fuck," He mutters to himself, head tipping back when your warm mouth latches over his hardened shaft. He pushes himself onto your moist mouth, hitting the back of your throat as you almost gag on his cock. You compose yourself soon, looking up at him as you bob your head up and down on his thick, veiny shaft.

Sukuna's grip on your hair doesn't falter, instead tightens as he establishes his hold while tangling his finger through your strands. You assume he likes it (and why wouldn't he? Only you can give him a head like this) from the way noises leaves his mouth as you take him in as much as you can. Your hand glides over the remnants of his dick, stroking and pressing on it.

"God yeah– fuck... j-just like that– ngh."

Your name rolls out of his mouth sinfully causing your cunt to suck on air. Drool runs down your chin to your jaw as you lap your tongue over his shaft – swirling and drawing over the bulging veins. You feel him twitch in your mouth and you know he's close. He knows, he's close as he heaves in a ragged breath.

Good. You were just waiting for that.

You detach your mouth from his cock with a pop, standing up as you press your lips to his for a brief second. A smirk played at your lips, "Now, wasn't that nice?"

"What the fuck?!" Sukuna growls at you, dumbfounded at the wave of pleasure that would've washed over him if not for you.

"Pay back, darling." You grin, pressing a kiss to cheek which only infuriates him more.

It isn't a second later that you are roughly thrown on your bed as Sukuna hovers over you, pulling your skirt up and ripping out your thong. You don't have the time to complain when he pushes his cock inside your throbbing cunt, hitting right at your g-spot on the very first stroke.

"God, Suku– ah–" A harsh slap is delivered to your ass, you hiss in pain as Sukuna picks up the pace. Pulling out his cock just to the tip before shoving the whole girth in–stretching and filling you up to the brim.

"Sluts don't get to speak," Another smack lands on your ass cheek, harder than the previous. It would sure leave a mark but he could care less. He swipes at your hardened bud, pinching it as you cry out in pain. "Yeah, like that– scream like the dumb bitch you are."

You are panting, trying to breath but his hand is clamped around your throat like a collar–pressing down your wind pipe. "Gnhh– Su-Suku' ahh– too m-much."

"Too bad, you're taking it." His hands find their way under your thighs, pushing them up until your knees are pressed up beside your face. He folds you in a mating press, reaching spots in you which you didn't know existed. "That's the thanks I got for making you cum. Brat's like you need to be punished." Said so, he reaches under your shirt, squeezing and kneading your breasts while he tweaks over your nipples.

You fist the sheets, eyes rolling back, you are almost on the verge of seeing stars before your eyes. His strokes has your legs tremble but he holds you tightly in his grasp, pinching and tugging on your erected buds. You swallow a deep breath feeling yourself clamp around his cock, you're close–too close and his swipes inside your pussy does not make this situation better. "Sh-shit, ahh– g-gonna ngh– cum."

"Oh yeah, so soon?" He pinches your clit elliciting a scream from you. "Like that, don't ya? Nasty little bitch, cum."

You suck him in, feeling yourself come undone under him. But– uh oh...

Sukuna is far from done.

You don't have the time to catch your breath, before he flips your position; you're straddling his lap with his dick still stuck in your cunt. "Wait– what the–"

"We are far from over," He whispers near your ear. "I still haven't cum, slut." He leans back on the bedframe, squeezing your ass cheek with a lopsided smirk stuck on his face. "Go on, take responsibility of your own actions. Or..." He stretches out the word, looking down on you. "Can you not?"

Did he really...? Was that really a challenge thrown your way?

If he thinks your estrogen levels aren't enough to keep up with his testosterone then he's damn wrong. You snickered, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, digging your nails into his flesh–he grunts out in pain. Your knees are aside his hips as you push yourself down on his cock. "You should know better than asking me if I can go on."

"Hm, prove it then."

Damn bastard... he's toying with you, provoking you with words and damn! It's working well. Like a moth to a flame, you are playing into his whims and you're damn sure, he's laughing his ass off inside his mind.

"Fuck off," You curse at him, pulling yourself up before sitting back on his member.

"Gosh– shit," Sukuna grabs your hips, groaning at the way your warm walls feel around his dick. Hooking his hand under your top, he tugs on it and you oblige, putting your hands up as the garment is thrown off your body. He doesn't waste a second before delving in to bite and suck on the flesh of your neck while fondling your breasts.

The only sound that reverberated through the room were your wanton moans mixed with his groans as your name was chanted like a mantra. Your butt slapped against his lap as you bounced on him, your mouth parted as a trail of drool ran down your chin.

It's the same dance, you've danced with him countless times. The flicker of flame that burnt could only be fuelled by your combined desires. Each kiss, each bite, each stroke giving rise to the allure of just one more. Once again.

You felt Sukuna's cock twitch inside your sore cunt–burning and ravished from taking him in so long. Your pleasure was coming in soon. And at the last second, Sukuna's mouth met yours in a salacious, deep kiss–resulting you to moan in his mouth as his seeds paint your walls white. You come simultaneously, ragged breath of relief erupting from you.

Both of you part, as you stay still over him, catching your breath. You look into his eyes; he's staring right back. Huffs and pants could be the means of communication and even though your room is air-conditioned, a thin layer of sweat covers the both of you.

For a second, there is a amalgam of emotions that flicker in his gaze alone. They disappear before you can name them yet- you believe there was a hint of tenderness to them.

"I hate you," The words flow out of you yet you don't know, why they don't have the same sharp tone as always.

"I hate you," You repeat again.

A smug smirk plasters over his lips as he clicks his tongue, "Right? Who was riding that dick–"

"Shut up."

Yes, you do hate him the most.

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Bakugo Katsuki

I finished this yesterday but forced myself to wait to post it due to my one part a day pattern I've had going on.

Anyways~ as I said in Shoto's part, I did make this one a bit angstier, but I hope I didn't stray too far away from the original prompt :'). It's kinda bittersweet lol but I kinda like it.

Angst to fluff/Comfort | Kinda bittersweet~ | 993 words | female reader

Warnings!: arguing, yelling, being scared of your partner, parents arguing (the kids were not present), kids being left at school (not for very long), caps, excuses, self hatred, and insulting themselves (Bakugo). Please let me know if I miss any <33

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

You both had been fighting for at least half an hour, screaming at one another for this and that. It started with Bakugo 'forgetting' to pick up your sons from school, and has now escalated into you screaming at him for not 'caring about this family' and his yelling about how hard he works for your family.

No one was totally to blame, both parties had some points that were right, and some that were wrong. But it should have never reached that point.

~~~

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD I WORK TO PROVIDE FOR THIS FAMILY! I TOLD YOU WHEN YOU BEGGED FOR KIDS THAT I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HELP OUT MUCH! WHAT ELSE DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME!"

"I UNDERSTAND THAT- BUT YOU'VE HAD THREE DAYS OFF! YOU'RE FULLY RESTED- AND SHOULD'VE PICKED UP THE KIDS NO PROBLEM WHILE I WAS HELPING OUT YOUR MOM!"

"WELL WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO! I FORGOT ABOUT IT, OKAY! AND YOU DIDN'T CALL TO REMIND ME EITHER!"

"I EXPECTED YOU TO HAVE ENOUGH BRAINS TO REMEMBER, BUT I GUESS THAT WAS IDIOTIC OF ME!"

"I HAVE SO MUCH TO DEAL WITH BESIDES THIS BULL CRAP THAT'S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY! I WORK, YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS!"

"KATSUKI I CANNOT WATCH THE KIDS 24-7 WITHOUT YOUR HELP! I NEED BREAKS TOO! YOU HAVE TWO DAYS OFF A WEEK TO RELAX, AND CATCH UP ON SLEEP! WHILE I HAVE NIGHT TIME, BATHROOM BREAKS, RUNNING ERANDS, AND NAP TIMES TO CATCH A BREAK! I SHOULD BE ABLE TO RELY ON MY HUSBAND TO HELP OUT WHEN HE HAS TIME OFF!"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTED THE KIDS IN THE FIRST PLACE- WHY ARE YOU WHINING TO ME ABOUT HAVING TO TAKE CARE OF 'EM!"

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THEY AREN'T YOURS!? WE BOTH AGREED ON DOING THE BEST WE COULD FOR OUR KIDS, AND YOU SAID THAT YOU'D HELP OUT WHENEVER YOU COULD!"

"Y/N IT WAS THIS ONE TIME- I WAS BUSY, I FORGOT!"

"YOU WERE PLAYING GAMES ALL DAY WITH YOUR FRIENDS! THAT IS NOT BUSY!"

Blazing anger filled Bakugo as he stepped towards you, planning on simply getting closer to you to somehow try and make you see his side of things. He didn't mean to forget about picking up his kids, he loves his kids, he was simply engrossed in talking about them to his friends as he gamed, totally forgetting about the time and the fact that they were at school, waiting for someone to pick them up.

In truth, Bakugo felt bad. Really bad. But you wouldn't stop, so he continued, his unwavering pride making it near impossible to simply apologize and leave the argument behind.

Storming towards you, Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks as you flinched from him, eyes holding a certain terror. Wait- did you- did you think he was going to hurt you?!

Apologies and 'are you okay's were caught in Bakugo's throat as he opened his mouth, too terrified to speak.

Y/n.. his y/n was scared..of him. HIs y/n- the person that tore him out of his 'I don't care about anything or anyone' stage. She brought him out of his dark pit of self loathing, hating himself for how weak he was, how he couldn't do anything compared to that idiot Deku. She brought light into his world, she is his light. His first and last love, his wife, his center, his other half, his partner, his reason for life, the mother of his children, his one and only lover, his queen, his everything.

And he scared her.

Screamed at her for something that was his fault.

Treated her so badly that she flinched away from him- terror filling her eyes.

Her gorgeous e/c eyes. The same eyes that his sons had inherited. Now he's brought tears to three sets of those goregous eyes. What a scum bag.

Pain seared through Bakguo as he embraced his y/n, knowing if he left now she would entirely break, thinking that he was giving up on her. On their love. When in reality, he would't be. He would never dream of leaving her, or their beautiful children.

Because no matter how much of an a-hole Bakugo may be, he would never stoop that low. Never. And so he held her, and continued to hold her as she tearfully cussed him out, telling him how much she loved him and how much of an a-hole he was for treating her like that, their kids like that.

He just held her, telling her that he was sorry, that he knew, that he would make it up to her -and their seven year old twins- somehow.

And for now, that was enough. His love, and comfort was enough as you clung to him, insulting him while telling him that you loved his idiotic self in the same sentence, telling him that you loved him too much to not be able to forgive him.

And that if he was serious about making things right, that you would help him.

Because you were Bakugo y/n*. You chose to take his name and become his wife. Bakugo has helped you through so many up and downs, so you would do the same for him. Because he truly loved you, and you truly loved him.

*Japanese last names go in front of the first name to pay respect to the family name, and that's why Kirishima and Bakugo's other classmates call him Bakugo instead of Katsuki -to pay respect to his family name-. So you would be (in Japan anyway) Bakugo y/n (if you choose to take his last name) and strangers/aquaintnesses/not so close friends and co-workers would call you Bakugo instead of y/n. Annd due to me not liking Bakugo a whole lot I call him Bakugo or Baka/Bakuhoe instead of Katuski and call Todoroki and Midoriya, Shoto and Izuku- do you get what I'm saying?? I hope you do <33

Series' masterlist | Bakahoe's Bakugou's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated<33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 10

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: And we’re back! In today’s episode, we have a very special guest. 😉

Also, just so you guys know, my podcast interview with the Idling in the Impala podcast is now live! For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 6.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, drug use, PTSD, violence, and another big reveal…

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 10: I Need a Hero

Revenge could wait for one more day.

It all can wait, Ben thought. Despite how vehement he was yesterday, today, he was reminded of how good it felt to sleep in a warm bed with a beautiful woman. 

He laid there behind you, on his side. He’d woken up to the sound of music somewhere downstairs, maybe in the dining room.

What time is it? It was hard to remember to keep track of that now, even with the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only midnight, but to his body, it felt like morning.

You were dead asleep. Occasionally you let out soft hums, and other semi-arousing sounds. His lips tugged upward.

Still moans in her sleep.

He drew down the comforter and sheets slowly from your back. He was greeted by smooth skin, except where some marks had been made permanent. His fingers traced carefully over a rough, scarred patch of skin above your hip, as if you had been tased there repeatedly.

His jaw clenched. He could still remember the sounds he used to hear—your screams through the walls of the compound. He remembered when you eventually stopped begging for it all to stop.

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said. “Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat. 

For so long after that day, he hated you. He told himself that he didn’t give a shit about whatever was happening to you, because you clearly didn’t give a shit about him.

But the long months wore on to longer years, alone in the dark. Too often, your words would rattle through his head, reach through his chest with ragged claws. No matter how much he fought it, all he had time to do when he was alone, was think.

He vacillated between stubborn, angry indignation, and rethinking every interaction he had with you, with Countess, the rest of the team, and beyond. Slowly, he allowed himself to retrace his steps. If only in his mind, he began to regret certain things…at least where it came to you.

Ignoring you was both harder and easier, since he couldn’t see you.

That all changed a few days ago.

Eisenstein returned to his cell, but this time he wasn’t alone. Two guards held you bound and gagged. You were just as shocked to see him as he was you.

It felt like he was suspended in time.

He saw the signs of aging in your face, but it didn’t matter. Even now, you were beautiful.

The spell of it broke when they threw you down onto the metal table usually reserved for him. He saw now that they had you in a straitjacket to keep your hands covered. The anger built inside him, almost incandescent in his veins.

“What the fuck is this?”

 The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

A realization soon dawned on Ben, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He saw your terror, the way you wordlessly pleaded with him, asking for help with your eyes.

Part of him still hated you, but he couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t allow this sick bastard to hurt you again. Not right the fuck in front of him.

You were still his.

His hand traveled down your bare shoulder, over the gentle slope of your side, and down the curve of your hip under the covers. You shifted and hummed, edging toward wakefulness. Ben settled in from behind, protectively embracing his body around yours in a perfect fit. He began kissing along your neck, slowly.

“Hmmm I’m sleeping,” you said, keeping your eyes closed. He smirked. His lips became more insistent, along with his hand spanning your thigh.

“Wake up, then,” he said. He teased the shell of your ear with his tongue, dragged your earlobe between his teeth. You shivered.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you retorted, smiling.

Ben huffed. “Yeah, keep being a fucking brat. That’ll get me to stop.”

His beard rasped against your skin as his lips found a path down the column of your throat. Acquiescing to open your eyes, you sighed, tilting your head back to give him more room. Meanwhile, his cock pressed insistently against your ass.

You smirked and shifted your hips, grinding back against him. “Maybe I like working you up.”

“Oh yeah?” He moved your thigh over his to spread your legs for him. There the warm, blunt tip of his cock pressed at your entrance, nudging you open with shallow thrusts. You moaned in response, reaching back to slip a hand in his hair.

You were a wanton little thing, he thought, even as he reached around to bury his fingers in your pussy. Already finding wetness between your folds, he gathered some of it and rolled your clit smoothly between his fingers. You gasped his name, your hips bearing down against him.

He took the opportunity to sheathe himself all the way inside you, until his hips were snug against your ass. You made a sound of pleasure that had his balls clenching on reflex. Your voice was a curse, even without your powers.

For once, he fucked into you slowly, with long, unhurried strokes that still managed to rock the bed. Ben was surprised the frame and springs hadn’t given up yet.

“You’re fucking mine, you hear me?” he said, close to your ear. He punctuated his words with deeper thrusts. “Say you understand.”

“Yes,” you agreed on a gasp.

“Yes, what?” He laid more tantalizing kisses along your neck and jawline. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you said, in a coarse whisper. Ben claimed your lips in a kiss, before he kept moving inside you in languid strokes.

You were a moaning mess, your eyes squeezed shut. You grabbed at your breasts and kneaded them yourself, rolling and pinching your nipples. He strummed more insistently on your clit, until he felt your inner walls finally start to throb around him.

Your orgasm hit you in a slow, long wave as you pressed your face into your pillow. And you clenched so impossibly tight on his cock, it triggered his release as well. His arm curled around your middle and pressed you tight against him as he uttered a sharp grunt. He finished hot inside you, panting heavily into your neck afterward.

“Well, good morning,” you quipped, despite trying to catch your breath as well.

Ben’s hazy reverie broke into a chuckle. He dropped a lingering kiss onto your shoulder.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “Whatever.”

When he pulled out of you, you shivered a little. He rolled onto his back, and regardless of the mess in the sheets, you turned over to rest your elbow on his pillow, leaning over him.

“I should probably tell you something,” you said.

He eyed you in suspicion. “What now?” 

You smiled and laid a hand on his chest, dragging your nails through the fuzz there.

“My family’s from Brooklyn, not a small town in Indiana,” you confessed. "Made it up to make me seem more...down to earth. Doe-eyed and likeable."

Ben’s brows shot up. He took a moment to process that information, then he shook his head.

“Fucking figures.” His arm lowered to curl around your lower back, caging you against him.

“I grew up in a brownstone that we had to share with two other families,” you said.

“So you were broke.”

“Yep. When I was born, my family spent all their savings to contract with Vought, to give me Compound V,” you explained. “Their plan was something like, if I became a famous superhero one day, I’d bring us out of our shitty life.”

Ben sighed, shaking his head. “So they pimped you out to Vought.”

“Essentially,” you said. You paused. He could see it was difficult for you, but you talked more about your life—the expectations from your parents, the training, the grueling schedules and the robbing of your childhood. 

“When my mom died, I…I realized just how much they took from me,” you said, gazing up at him. “Isn’t that horrible?”

Again, Ben shook his head. His hand had been caressing up and down your back, but it stopped now. Part of him was still reluctant, but he told you about the biggest lie of his life. That he hadn’t grown up poor or struggling. That his father practically owned half of Pennsylvania, and Ben had been a spoiled rich kid. He’d also gotten kicked out of boarding school after starting a fight.

“My father said I wasn’t worthy of his name,” he said, with a wry turn of his lips. “So I went out, talked to some of his golf buddies in the War department, and got myself into the Vought program. I became Soldier Boy.”

You listened with rapt attention. Not interrupting him, just giving him the time he needed to find his words.

“When I came home after the war, my mother was just as proud as she’d ever been,” he recounted. But he didn’t smile. “My father took a good look at me, maybe for the first time in my life. And you know what he said?”

You gave him a questioning look, silently prodding.

“He said I took a short cut. ‘A real man wouldn’t have cheated,’” he said.

When he eventually met your gaze, you at least didn’t look pitying. Just understanding.

“I guess we both have daddy issues, huh?” you said.

Ben shook his head. Then he eyed you. “You don’t look that surprised by all this.”

You smiled, a little sheepish. You stroked your thumb across his chin.

“I can sense when a man is lying to me, remember?” you said pointedly. “I clocked you a long time ago, pal. Mostly any time you told some fake war story... You didn't fight in the war, did you?”

He frowned in offence, even though you both knew he couldn’t deny it.

"I was there," he said.

You gave him a knowing look. "Ben."

"I fucking would've, all right, but by the time I got there it was pretty much..." He waved a dismissive hand. His brows were crunched along with his worsening frown. You felt his embarrassment, and as a result, his agitation. You were glad to finally get the truth in his own words, but you didn't want to work him up in that way either.

You tried softening him with a kiss to his cheek. You rubbed a soothing hand over his arm.

“So what do you want to do when we get our lives back?” you asked, purposefully changing the subject. “After the whole payback thing.”

Ben sat up with you against the headboard. His upset slowly faded away with your ministrations, your gentle touch, and his expression fell into contemplation.

“I always thought I had time, but uh…I thought I’d eventually settle down. Have a couple of rugrats of my own. Raise a family,” he said. “Thought I could do it better than my old man.”

You tilted your head at him with a certain measure of surprise. Out of everything he might’ve said, that one didn’t occur to you. Although, with his upbringing, you supposed it made sense. You smiled.

“You might have a few of those out there somewhere,” you said.

He chuckled. “I've always thought so.”

He looked at you in a way he hadn’t before, a bit gentler, with something else you couldn’t name. Your face warmed as something fluttered in your lower belly.

“So tell me then. What do you want?” he asked.

Once you worked through that bit of nerves, you thought about his question. It took you longer than you thought it would to come up with an answer, but when you did, it was the most honest thing you could think of.

“I want to be happy.”

He paused, not expecting that answer. Then he nodded, with a short hum.

You sighed. “Okay, if you really want to go after Vought, I think I have an idea of where we should start.”

I can’t believe it. This thing still fits me pretty well, you thought. You twisted in the mirror to examine yourself in your old black and violet supe suit, though you didn't bother with the mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was already with your generous host, sat with widespread legs on the couch while he smoked a large blunt. His smoke coiled out lazily.

“You gotta believe me, I didn’t know what they were planning,” said Arthur Cohen. AKA: The Legend. He had been forced into a chair, though Ben hadn’t bothered tying him up. The man knew better than to make a false move. He was a decade older, and lucky for him, even wiser.

His penthouse apartment in New York looked more or less the same. Hit records and old successful movie posters adorned the walls, like a true has-been.

“Yeah, you said that fifty fucking times already,” Ben snarked. “What you haven’t said, is why.”

“To be honest, I never asked,” Arthur said. His expression soured. “Stillwell and Stan Edgar shivved me out of that decision, those uppity fucks. Then they got me fired on some technicality.”

“Allegations of embezzlement, or so I heard,” you said, reentering the room.

Arthur raised a finger. “Not true. That money was well earned backpay.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know I know you’re lying, right?” You approached the men and crossed your arms. “What’s the lay of the land now?”

“Well, Stillwell’s the new me. Stan’s the new CEO. They disbanded Payback after you disappeared. The others are either working new gigs or are in early retirement. But I heard Vought’s working up to creating a new team.”

You nodded and shared a glance with Ben. He looked a little too chilled out right now. Apparently, Arthur had the good stuff.

“Before we jump into the frying pan with this, I want to go see my family,” you said. “Would you…want to go with me?”

Ben blew out more smoke, gesturing at Arthur. “I’ll keep this one company until he finds our old team. Make sure he doesn’t fuck off to Rio.”

You felt the sting of disappointment, but you sighed and agreed.

“Just…wait for me to get back before you go anywhere,” you said. You saw Ben prickle a little at being “told” what to do. You lowered down to his lips.

“Please?” you said, plying him with a kiss, and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’ll be back soon.”

He tightened his hand on yours. His gaze drew over you, briefly with more clarity through his high.

“Fine,” he said. “Be careful.”

You nodded with a smile, giving him one more kiss goodbye.

Your father was the longer drive north than your brother’s house in Queens, so you headed up to find the former first after borrowing a car from Arthur. According to him, your father had moved upstate to Albany after your “death.” 

Now, you understood why.

He lived in a two-story house on a whole acre of land, complete with three cars, a pool, and oh yeah, his new girlfriend. She looked good hanging off his arm in Atlantic City, as you saw from a picture on the wall—after you broke into the house, that is. To be fair, they’d left the sliding glass door open in the backyard.

Your dad was dressed like he just got home from the golf course, walking over from the kitchen to the living room. He dropped his glass of wine in shock when he saw you standing there, admiring the only framed picture of you, your mother, and Chris on one of the display shelves. Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.

“Hey, Dad,” you said. You turned to him, not bothering to hide your disdain.

He gaped for a few seconds as he tried and failed to make his mouth work. He pointed at you with a shaking hand, your name finally falling from his lips.

“It’s a beautiful place,” you said. You gestured widely at your surroundings. “It’s nice to see that you finally got what you wanted.”

He tried to go to you, to embrace you, but you held out a hand. Your lips trembled as you fought the onslaught of your emotions. If he touched you, you might not have been able to control your actions.

“Did you give any of the settlement money to Chris and his family? Or did my death just make you rich,” you asked.

Your father’s eyes closed. He released a heavy sigh before he was able to meet your gaze again.

“He wouldn’t take any of it,” he admitted.

Your tears stung in your eyes as you smiled a little. “Sounds like him.”

“Where have you been?” he asked. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Again, he tried to get closer to you, and again, you held him off.

“The only thing I need from you is to keep doing what you’re doing,” you said. “Keep living your life like you no longer have a daughter.”

With that, you stalked out of the house and shot out the door, back to your car, no matter how much he called out after you. You got into the driver’s seat and beat the wheel once, twice, venting your frustrations. But you forced yourself to take in deep breaths to calm yourself. You wiped the tears from your eyes.

He wasn’t worth it.

You wondered if you should go see Chris though. Would it be safe for him and his family? Was Vought watching them as a contingency, if you ever escaped?

You weren’t sure. You rucked through your purse lying in the passenger seat for the weird “cell” phone Arthur had lent you. You wanted to check in with Ben first, before you went anywhere else.

You started to dial, but a gloved hand shot out and injected a needle into your neck. You startled at the sharpness and the feeling of a chemicals rushing through your body. Your eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

All you saw was a blurry, black mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking plastered.

He had been ever since you left yesterday morning. In his unrest, he’d moved on to a handful of whatever opiates Arthur kept in his medicine cabinet.

Christ I’m fucking bored.

He glanced down at the phone in his lap. The one Arthur gave him, along with a list of numbers that had been taped to the fridge. The first number on the list was the cell phone you were carrying. Ben read the rest of them.

Pizza place. Chinese. Swedish massage—hmm, there’s an idea. Handy man. BEST escort service…

Ben rose a brow. An inebriated smile curved his lips.

“What makes it the best escort service?” he asked, and loudly. Enough that Arthur came over from where he’d been making calls in his office, trying to find the rest of his former teammates’ whereabouts.

Arthur raised a brow at him. “You sure that’s a good idea right now?”

Ben shot him a terse warning look. The other man raised his hands.

“Eh, I’m three times divorced. What do I know?” he said, but he sighed and gave Ben a long look. “It just seems to me that you and Sirena got a good thing goin’, that’s all.”

The thought of you managed to cut through the haze of drugs clouding Ben’s mind. He frowned.

“That’s how Missus #1 caught me, with one of my ex-assistants in the jacuzzi,” Arthur said, with a mild grimace on his face. “She got that house in the divorce. Well, that and the kids.”

Ben looked over at him blankly.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur went back to his office.

Ben glanced down at the list of numbers in his hand, and the cell phone in the other. What the fuck was taking you so long then?

He dialed the first number on the list—your number. It rang several times, but you never answered. He called you again, waited a few minutes, then called you a third time. You weren’t answering.

His frown worsened, along with a suspicious prickling up his spine. Fuck...

He'd felt it the moment he let go of your hand, but he'd been too out of his mind to actually listen to his instincts; the same ones that warned him not to let you out of his sight. And more importantly, not to let you go.

He got up from the couch and stormed into Arthur’s office, shoving the door open. Arthur jumped in his seat. 

“What? What’s the matter?”

“She’s not picking up the fucking phone,” Ben said. He paused. “Something’s wrong.”

Arthur didn’t ask him the predictable question: how do you know? He just took in the look on the supe’s face and knew it wouldn’t be wise arguing. He tried calling your father's home, but all the man would say was, "She left. She's gone."

Arthur hung up with the man, and for a long moment, he sat pensively while Ben angrily paced the small office, like a tiger confined in its enclosure.

“It’s possible that Vought knows you guys made it back,” Arthur said. At the dark look on Ben’s face, the other man rubbed his chin with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll try to track her down for ya. In the meantime, I’ve got Countess’s address. Maybe she'll even have an idea of where to look for Sirena.”

He slid a piece of paper toward Ben across his desk. He grabbed it, pointing a threatening finger at Arthur.

“Find her.”

You woke with a groan. You knew a drugging when you felt one, and this was it. Someone had given you a powerful sedative.

You were alone in a white padded cell, lying on a cot. It was all too familiar.

Except for the tall figure in black standing in the middle of the room, watching you. You gasped with a jolt, pressing your back against the wall after you sat up. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Irving?”

Black Noir stepped closer until he was sitting beside you on the cot. Tentatively, he raised a hand up to touch your cheek with gentle, gloved fingers.

Your shock gave way to anger. You slapped his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you said sharply.

Noir backed off at once, as if you’d struck him a real blow. He got up, went over and grabbed a dry erase board that had been lying against the far wall, along with a marker off the floor. He wrote something down on it, then he showed you.

You shouldn’t have come back to NY.

You frowned, both at what he “said,” and in confusion. Why wouldn’t he just talk to you?

“What did you expect?” you asked incredulously. “For me and Ben just to disappear forever? To let you keep ruining our lives?”

Noir paused at that. He tilted his head with a long look at you. With your abilities, you were able to sense that he was disheartened, and even angry. He erased the board with his arm and wrote something else.

Do you love him?

You blinked at the question.

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew.

Soldier Boy

Emotion rose high in your throat, but you worked past it with a swallow, and a deep breath.

“That’s none of your business,” you said.

Noir just stared at you, his head tilting forward. The longer he stood there, watching you, waiting for an answer, the longer you prickled with unease.

He erased the board and wrote the same question again. He held it out for you to see, shaking it once in emphasis.

Do you love him?

You hesitated, but you didn’t want to lie anymore, even to yourself.

“Yes, I do,” you said. “I know what he’s done, believe me, but he isn’t a monster.”

Noir’s head twitched. You felt his anger intensify. He dropped the board onto the floor, startling you, but all he did next was slowly raise his hands to take off his helmet. He showed you what was left of his mottled, disfigured face—the burnt skin and the divot in his skull that had never fully healed.

Your mouth parted in shock as tears sprung in your eyes. You tried to avert them, but Noir stepped forward and grabbed your jaw, turning your face up to his and forcing you to look. Your lips trembled, but you met his gaze unflinchingly.

When he seemed to be satisfied, he released you and stepped back. He placed his helmet back on.

“I understand why you hate him,” you said at last. “But you made your choice when you let them take me too. You…you changed everything for me.”

You were satisfied to feel a lance of Noir’s guilt. You had scars too, and most of them weren’t physical.

“I’m not going to apologize for my choices now,” you said, with a firm glare. “So unless you’re going to kill me, you can fuck off, before I scramble what’s left of your head.”

Your eyes glowed with your power. You opened your mouth to begin your siren’s song, but Noir turned on his heel and exited the door, leaving you alone in the cell.

A fucking chimp sanctuary. Really? Ben thought as he broke into the boundary of the reserve. About a quarter mile into the tall grass, he found a large, if rundown country style house in the middle of the woods.

“Yes, Big Daddy. I’m almost ready for you. Just let me heat these up…”

Ben raised a brow, but he gritted his teeth and kicked through the front door. There she was, Crimson Countess in all her glory, holding a set of anal beads.

She gasped at the sight of him, but she ignored the “client” on speaker on her landline phone, and dropped the beads so she could aim a fiery blast at the intruder.

Ben jumped out of the way and tossed his shield. It hit her square in the chest and sent her flying back into the wall, destroying a bookshelf and the dining table. He walked over to it with slow, heavy steps.

She raised her head with a groan, but then, her eyes watered with disbelief…and fear, when she looked up at him.

“Ben?” she said. “My God…it’s really you, isn’t it? You... you look the same.”

“You don't,” he remarked. He lowered down to grab her by the collar of her suit and raise her out of the rubble.

“How much did the Russians pay you, Donna?” he asked calmly.

She struggled to escape, her nails scraping at his gloved hand. He tightened his hold.

“They didn’t,” she admitted. Tears leaked from her eyes under her mask.

“They didn’t pay you anything?” he said through clenched teeth. “Then why?”

You know why, came sneaking voice in his mind. He tried to pay it no heed, but Donna sneered at him.

“Because,” she spat. “I fucking hated you. We all did.”

Ben’s lips pulled at a humorless smirk. His chest prickled with heat. “I should’ve known you were a bunch of sniveling, backstabbing, fucking cowards.”

“Kill me then,” she taunted. “Is that gonna make you feel better? Going to make you feel less empty inside?”

Ben’s chest began to get that nuclear glow, but he managed to fight it down, back into embers.

“Not yet,” he said. He drew her in closer. She held onto his wrist, her feet scrambling over the debris on the floor.

“I need to find someone,” he said. “And you’re going to help me.”

Ben and Donna sat across from each other on her living room couch, with the landline sat between them. The phone was on speaker as it rang. The longer it took, the more annoyed he became.

“This better work,” he said. She gave him a flat look.

Finally, a woman answered the phone.

“Good afternoon. Stan Edgar’s office. How may I assist you?”

“Hi Gloria, it’s me, Donna,” she said. “I need to speak with Stan as soon as possible, please.”

“Ooh, I’m afraid he’s in a meeting.”

“Trust me, he’s going to want to take this call.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid his next availability isn’t until next week. And next month if you want an in-person meeting.”

“Just tell him to call me back asap!” She said, hanging up the phone in a huff. Ben gave her an unimpressed look.

“That was your big fucking plan?” he said.

She huffed. “You think breaking into Vought is going to be easy? Let alone finding that weasel. He’s got the best security money can buy, and by the way, finding where they’re keeping your little girlfriend isn’t going to be any easier. They could’ve stashed her literally anywhere by now.”

You think I don’t fucking know that? Ben got up from the couch with an angry breath. He turned away from her and rubbed at his beard in contemplation. He shouldn’t have let you go anywhere alone.

I should’ve been there. The thought gripped him, deep in his gut. Guilt was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling.

“We’re going to need help,” Donna said.

His bad mood took a turn for the worst. He glanced back at her.  

“What, the rest of the fucking Scooby gang?” he snarked.

“Or you can try going in alone, guns blazing,” she shrugged. Her sharpened gaze met his. “How fast do you think they’ll kill her, just to spite you?”

Ben’s jaw clenched. Donna leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

“Or worse. They’ll put you back in a box and ship you back to the Russians,” she said. Her snide smile had him clenching his teeth. “Either way, you’ll never see her again.”

With everything in his being, Ben wanted to fry this bitch to Kingdom Come.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”

Donna’s expression fell. “What?"

"You heard me!" he barked, grabbing her arm to pull Donna to her feet. "Get the fuck up."

She struggled against his grip. "Where’re we going?”

“To find those fucking Twins.”

They took her car, a tiny sedan. Evidently, the end of Payback hadn’t been good for Donna’s career. Arthur had told him that, irony of ironies, she now sang at a Soldier Boy tribute act at Voughtland to pay her bills. And as he’d seen earlier, she needed to pad her income in other ways.

She was driving them up to Vermont. It was going to take days, and Ben was already sick of her.

It was a small blessing when they stopped at a gas station in the nighttime. She gave him her credit card to buy some snacks for the road while she filled up the tank. (He took the keys with him as insurance that she wouldn't bolt with the car.)

He returned with a far bigger bag than she expected. She forgot what a human garbage disposal he could be. He tossed the card back at her.

“Your card’s maxed out, by the way,” he said.

She glared at him, but she endeavored to let it go with a sigh, raising a hand to her temple. How the fuck had this become her life?

To minimize being overheard, she stepped closer to him while the gas pump kept going on her car.

“Gunpowder is the easiest one to find next. Mindstorm’s probably hiding in a hole in the middle of the woods some-goddamn-where,” she said, keeping her voice down. She gave her unwanted companion a sly look. “Though I’m thinking you want Mindstorm to stay wherever he retired.”

It brought up an unsavory memory.

After the team turned on him, Mindstorm had been the one to lock his gaze on Ben. For a moment, his feet had been rooted to the ground while Mindstorm tried to shove him deep into his mind. It had given someone the opening to slip a mask of Novichok over his face. He suspected it had been Countess.

Now, Ben turned to her with a glare at her audacity.

“You know, for a massive cunt, you’ve got some brass balls,” he said dangerously. “How the fuck didn’t I see what a vindictive little snake you were from the beginning?”

Donna scoffed in derision.

“I’m vindictive? Says the cheating, lying, bastard,” she snapped.

“Oh, shut your hole. You knew what I was doing, and you didn’t give a shit,” he said with a glare. He leveled a finger at her. “You used me to get exactly what you fucking wanted. Fame, money, and all the perks that come with it.”

Her lips pursed, like she didn’t want to admit it. But if they were airing out dirty laundry, then she wasn’t pulling any more punches.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one. Was I?” she said. “Anyone who ever smiled at you, fawned over you, or sucked your dick was trying to get something from you. Or, they were scared of you. Because you’re a bully. A fucking monster. And sooner or later, Sirena won’t be able to stomach you anymore.”

The thin leash on his temper finally snapped. He reacted, reaching out to grab her by the throat. He was truly thinking about breaking her neck.

Donna choked for air and gripped his wrist. “Without me, you’ll have no one. Good…fucking…luck finding her.”

Ben was furious, but he battled it down, expelling a breath of frustration.

He released her. She coughed and gasped and stumbled a few feet away from him, glaring at him all the while through her fear.

When she was eventually able to stand again, she and Ben shared a look of mutual loathing, but also, of understanding.

It was an uneasy truce. For now.

You were quickly unraveling alone in the dark.

You felt the phantom cold of your old cell. No matter how you rubbed your arms through the leather of your supe suit, you couldn’t get warm. You released a shaky breath and swiped at your tears.

You missed Ben. He had to know by now that you were in trouble, but you didn’t know if he’d know how to find you. Or worse, if they found him first.

You steeled yourself and tried to calm your panic. You counted to thirty. Your eyes flit to every small detail of your cell that you could name: the small crack in the gray linoleum tile, the line of ants slowly creeping along the corner, the brittle wool blanket you were sitting on, laid over your cot.

When your breathing was steady, you tried to think. You didn’t know where you were, of course, but you could try to sense how big the building was.

You did something you rarely did. You cast your awareness outward as far as you could reach.

There were very few male energies, and you only picked up on a few scattered thoughts.

Until you found one. It felt…strong, but young. A kid?

Jesus Christ, what’re they doing in this place? you thought.

What…who’s there?

You heard the voice in your mind, small and afraid and lonely. Before you could answer him, the door of your cell opened to a few familiar faces.

There was an older man in a lab coat that you recognized, but you couldn’t place his name until you read his monogram. Vogelbaum. Followed by Stan Edgar and Black Noir, who came to stand behind you. You knew that if you made any wrong moves, Noir would kill you this time.

Quickly you read their energies as you observed them.

Vogelbaum gave off mild interest in you, but it felt clinical. Stan felt resigned and calculating as he took you in.

“For what it’s worth, I do wish it hadn’t come to this, Sirena,” Stan said. “We didn’t intend for you to get caught up our deal with Russia.”

He may have been telling the truth, but that didn’t mean you cared.

“You’re in the most secure lab we have,” he said, gesturing to your wall-to-wall cell without windows. “No one knows you’re here, and no one will find you.”

You smiled dryly. “So what do you want from me?”

“I want to know how you and Soldier Boy escaped the facility in Russia,” he said, gathering his hands behind his back.

What he really meant was, How did you escape? So we can make the next cell even more effective.

You leaned forward and spat at his shoes.

Black Noir grabbed you by the back of your neck and yanked you back. Your jaw clenched in anger, but you didn’t struggle. Even if you opened your mouth to sing, Noir would snap your neck before your powers had time to affect him.

Stan remained unaffected by your outburst, though he glanced down at his shoes.

“These are handmade Italian leather,” he remarked.

“Even if you find Ben, you’ll never be able to kill him,” you said tersely.

“We don’t need to kill him. Nor will we need to find him,” Stan said. “He’s already looking for you.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart swelled with both hope and dread, though you tried to hide it.

“We have a plan to neutralize him. Several, in fact,” he added, and spread his hands wide. “Until then…welcome home.”

Smug bastard. You glared back at him.

He left, along with Vogelbaum. Black Noir glanced back at you once, then he was gone.

The lights in your cell turned off, leaving you in darkness. You heaved a breath and couldn’t help the tears that found hot paths down your cheeks. You curled your knees up on the cot and held them to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if you could pretend the room wasn’t pitch black. You focused your breathing, in and out, until your heartbeat began to slow down from its panic.

The kid, you remembered.

You licked your dry lips and tried casting your awareness out again. When you found the familiar energy from before, you reached out to him.

Hey, are you there? you prodded.

Who the hell are you?

It’s okay. Don’t be scared, you said, and you gave him your name. Are you locked up here?

Y-Yeah.

I’m sorry to hear that. I am too.

How can you be talking to me…in my head?

Well, it’s complicated, you admitted. It’s a new power I’m trying out, thanks to my time as a human test subject.

Something told you this kid knew the feeling.

What’s your name? you asked.

Um…John. I’m John.

  AN: 🤭 Oh, yeah, we're going there.

How did you like getting Ben's perspective on things? And his "forced" team up with Countess to find the rest of the cast of Payback. 😬 What could possibly go wrong?

Next Time: 

Ben hated to admit it (so he wouldn’t), but she had a point. It took him a minute to wrangle in his ire, taking deep breaths to try and calm the power inside him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

This time, it actually did.

His hand fell back to his side, letting the younger man breathe freely.

“Let’s go.” Ben turned on his heel and headed out.

“Where, uh…where’re we going?” Charlie asked, rubbing his sore neck.

“Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Ben said grimly.

He tilted his head.

“Well. What’s left of it.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 11

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[inchidentally]

This might be a good time for one of your "rpf is not reality" posts, just sayin 👀

askfgsaf you're probably right (referencing this) and for those who are wondering, I basically feel semi responsible for keeping landoscar rpf from crossing boundaries bc I've written so much abt them for so long - so once in a while I'll post reminders that the fandom doesn't welcome delusional ppl and we don't allow girlfriend hate etc pls just ignore if you're like wtf is this bitch talking about

bc the problem is not that people outside fandom use ship names publicly like Oscar very tentatively did yesterday - one of Daniel’s first orders of business on camera with Lando was to (jokingly) declare landan would be superior to carlando. Carlos, Lando, Adam (Lando's dad), McLaren, Netflix, every sponsor for F1 and F1’s official accounts themselves use carlando's ship name and content for engagement. (in fact McLaren almost never use the term 'landoscar' at all but still 'carlando' many times up to the current day) tbh it's actually more common for drivers to big up their bromances than to be like Lando and Oscar who have never gone that route outside of McLaren's usual PR stuff (which has also been wayyyy below the amount they did for Carlos and Daniel). it's actually been kind of nice that they drew that boundary of not sharing their time together outside of work beyond a passing mention and they don't do any gay chicken or overly PDA for fans that yes I personally love but that can lead certain ppl into thinking it's legit romantic/sexual. and that Lily (and Lando's dating/romantic/night life asflgsafja) are so visible and present bc we haven't had to deal with the whole pipeline of rpf delulu invading the ship. we got ahead of all that crazy.

and the problem is not even just when fans use the ship names outside fandom bc often the drivers themselves or people around them bait for it. the vast majority of people (including the drivers) think ship names/bromances are all a fun joke or at it's most serious it's just reflective of their real life platonic friendship/brotherliness etc. most of the popular usage has no sexual/romantic intent at all.

The Problem !! is fans crossing very clear boundaries !! and those are

being overly, grossly sexual (read the room type thing) or being pushy about the ship to the drivers involved (or their friends, families, teams) pushy meaning things like "admit it, driver name is closer to driver x than driver y" "we want pics/content of ship name" "we all know ship x is superior to ship y" "driver x prefers driver y over his own girlfriend" or top voting comments about a ship that has nothing to do with the post at all

deciding the ship is "real" (or “if it weren't for homophobia they would be together right now”) and becoming obsessive/pushing an agenda that always includes pretending that girlfriends and wives are fake or PR or beards or horrible witches controlling the poor weak white male millionaire athlete. sometimes with a side of thinking that teams are involved in the big gay cover up by "hiring/arranging" girlfriends for the drivers (when the teams can't even keep scandals about their own staff locked down alfhgsalfj trust me if a driver was closeted, he and his management alone would be taking care of that cover up and they'd NEVER risk telling teams who have rotating staff and who the driver will probably leave at some point anyway)

and the consequences of fans crossing those boundaries are

if you actively try to push a celebrity to come out then either way it will absolutely not happen, regardless of what their real sexuality is - and if you insinuate too heavily then they will probably double down on their heterosexuality to shut you up (again, regardless of their real sexuality so it doesn't matter either way!)

if you push a bromance ship too hard or publicly present it too seriously then it WILL backfire and at best your fandom is fucked until things calm down - at worst those two people might very possibly want to avoid each other because of the unwelcome insinuations and invasiveness. and if you abuse girlfriends/wives as part of it then you'll get an even angrier reaction (yes this is partly included in Lando's story about the breakup with Lu and the hate she got)

even drivers who play gay for jokes have certain limits - Daniel was at least partly genuinely concerned that people thought he was actually dating Max at one point. Carlos was openly disturbed by fans in a 2019/20? livestream who told him to kiss Lando and he pointedly told them they were very very weird in a not at all amused voice. and three of these men were in serious relationships with women at the time those things happened.

and the thing is with landoscar, Lando and Oscar don't do gay stuff as a joke at ALL and they genuinely take a gender neutral line in discussing theoretical dating and romance questions. that could easily be them just being progressive! it doesn’t mean anything that we as strangers can publicly claim about them and definitely not TO them! and specifically with Oscar, we really don’t know his feelings in terms of fans saying even jokey sexual stuff to him but I would personally say err on not doing it too hard. he's not a prude at all but he's absolutely not publicly raunchy or suggestive to a degree a lot of the drivers are. (I'd also like to say mayyyybe even back off of the Lily stuff directly to him, or at least don't get too comfy about it? idk it's been getting a bit much and he's clear about not wanting that part of his life discussed openly. getting weird how ppl keep demanding photos of her under his posts likeeee she's not a commodity ok!)

I usually say how we in landoscar fandom adore Lily - which we do! - but fuck it, even if Oscar or Lando were dating/seeing someone problematic or that we didn’t adore (!!hint!!) it is STILL not justification for pretending Lando and Oscar are in a secret gay relationship and that the woman they're with is just a cover-up/fake. like yes we all happen to love Lily but our respect for her as a human being and the boundaries between ourselves and her isn’t contingent on affection !! it's basic human respect and healthy boundaries !!

it's why I stick to tumblr and discord for really going off w rpf. even if someone tried to share any of it we know damn well none of the drivers will follow an unsolicited tumblr link (idk maybe Fernando might not know but I doubt he goes anywhere near social media DMs aslfgsalj)

but yea I think fandom overall can keep those people who cross boundaries mostly under control without getting into any fandom police bs. we can all go stupid in explicitly fandom spaces like tumblr ao3 etc but anywhere a driver or someone close to them could stumble upon easily it's worth a quick polite word of advice to ppl who are definitely going too far <3

[str4wberrysw4n]

𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 (๑·̀ㅂ·́)و✧

yesterday, my teacher said that we were gonna play a Kahoot! and the top 5 would be able to get munchkins as a prize. Im not sure if I've mentioned this on my blog before but i LOVE sweet things!! so i was determined to do well in this Kahoot.

every time a question came up and i clicked an answer, I basically just told myself "it's right" and pushed back any doubt I had in mind. long story short, i ended up getting 5th place and was called up to get a munchkin. however, as i walked back to my desk, i was proud of myself only for my mind to undermine it immediately by saying

"it's just a small manifestation"

and im here to tell u... THERE'S NO SUCH THINGGG!!

oh my gosh. so many people wonder why their manifestations take incredibly long to form in the 3d,but when they DO manifest something small, they immediately diminish their accomplishments bcuz it's not the "main thing" they want. they're so focused on getting this "big" manifestation, which actually ends up with them sabotaging themselves. why?

first of all, i want to explain why "small" manifestations should be celebrated. imagine: maybe u manifested a top. nothing more, nothing less. but that in it's own right is an incredible feat. u have quite literally imagined something in ur head and watched it project into the physical world due to the power that u hold. a lot of people aren't able to affirm, persist, etc. And simply give up when they don't immediately see results. a result, considered small in the eyes of ur humanity, is a representation of u taking back ur reality and controlling the 4d. which is why i think seperating them into groups of "small" or "big" is, in my opinion, keeping u trapped in the 3d.

in the physical realm that we reside in, we constantly attempt to weigh our options to see which one is better. for example, if u asked the average person, "is billions of dollars more important than a shirt", they would obviously laugh at you and think you're joking or something. It obviously is, at least in the 3d. However, I believe that this weighing and difference in values should not be applied to manifesting. imagine like I said, u manifested a shirt. that's great, BUT, ur trying to manifest a billion dollars -- and while ur kind of grateful for the shirt, u instead focus on how you DIDN'T get the money. because of the values that u have been taught in the 3d, u believe that one less important than the other. when u apply this belief, ur basically telling urself that u have some sort of "low power level" instead of seeing it as proof of ur great potential. it shows that you're still attached to the 3d and what it presents to u, rather than accepting the 4d and being truly grateful that its started to pierce through ur reality.

also, just saying -- i see ppl online call certain manifestations "small", and while i don't agree with it, i understand why they could possibly refer to it as that. looking at where they are in their journey and the things they are "receiving", there's a chance that manifesting a shirt is pretty "small" compared to the things that they've manifested before. this is mostly an issue for like NEW manifestors, like they just started making subliminal playlists a week ago. its a problem i definitely ran into and i feel like it could hold back ur progress. luckily, i was able to understand that even if i called it "small", that it wasn't actually that way.

to sum it up, there isn't anything as a small manifestation, and genuinely considering one more important than the other can limit ur potential as a manifestor!!

once again, this was something i experienced so i wanted to post this for anyone that might need some insight! this is all my opinion btw. happy manifesting!! ヾ(◍°∇°◍)ﾉﾞ

[scoobydoodean]

sorry, i'm genuinely confused by your s6 deancas conflict take. i don't think either is the bad guy but i think cas was doing what he could with what he had. i don't think he was in the wrong but i'm curious to know what you think he could've done to be in the right? be honest and upfront? that would jeopardize his mission and put him on the outs with dean. sure, that happened anyway but he did stop raphael

i've also always been confused by dean's "i was here where were you?" because was he though? when they did find out, they punished him and cut him off instead of idk, strategizing with cas. it was a lose/lose situation for cas from the get-go starting with his decision not to involve dean as much as he could help it because cas did care about him. if the issue was working with crowley, cas ended up double-crossing him anyway. if the issue was being dishonest, well, that's nothing new among the winchesters

anyway, i don't have a favorite between deancas because i could never pick but in s6 i very much sympathized with cas so again, i guess i'm curious what you think he could've done differently. i hope this ask doesn't annoy you too much

Let's separate this into two pieces. 1) What I actually said (i.e. the disk horse I was addressing) 2) The utility of Cas's plan to pop Purgatory.

First, what did I say today based partly on a post I made yesterday?

It’s not remotely hard to see that Cas repeatedly uses Dean without his knowledge throughout the season. But you’d think based on how 90% of destiel shippers talk that Cas was waiting on Dean hand and foot while having his own needs ignored by a callous asshole. That’s literally the story people try to tell you while Cas uses Dean for everything from spells to forced labor to a meat shield for Raphael and Virgil while only showing up when Sam and Dean having a lead on an angel weapon is mentioned. They just erase Cas’s problems in order to misrepresent and reduce Dean down to a mean friend who doesn’t deserve him.

I'm wasn't talking about the plan to pop Purgatory and the conflict that happens over it in 6.20 (we can address that in a moment). I'm talking about how a large chunk of destiel fandom erroneously argues that season 6 Dean is a bad friend throughout the entire season who only cared about Cas being useful to him, when Cas is the one who spends the entire season using Dean without his knowledge. You want to have a conversation about something slightly different, which is fine, but don't conflate two common streams of disk horse about separate things. They have some overlap yes—but don't get it twisted.

What could Cas have done differently?

Cas could have asked to use Dean's blood for a spell instead of yanking his wrist over and cutting his palm open for blood without a word, but instead, he did it without asking (and that small act sets the stage for how Cas treats Dean the entire season). Cas could have asked if Sam and Dean would look for leads for him on angelic weapons. He could have asked them if they would look for leads on Purgatory instead of secretly cosigning Crowley coercing them into forced labor capturing alphas. He could have asked them if they would keep Raphael and Virgil off his tail long enough for him and Balthazar to collect their weapons. Instead, Cas used them without their permission or knowledge. All Dean asks in these moments is to be told that Cas needs his help instead of being used without permission.

You seem certain that giving Sam and Dean any information would have "jeopardized his mission"... but how? Setting aside the actual utility of Cas's plan to pop Purgatory for now, Cas actually could have communicated what he needed in every single one of these situations without revealing his plan to pop Purgatory. In fact, that's exactly what he did with Balthazar, isn't it? But again—we're talking about two slightly different things here. EYE was talking about whether or not it's true that Dean was a mean and bad friend who didn't care that Cas needed help and never offered him assistance while Cas moped like a wet cat, back aching from bending over backwards to help Dean with *looks at notes* something. EYE pointed out that Cas absolutely did not fail to make Dean useful to him. He just didn't bother to tell Dean he was doing it. YOU are talking about whether or not the Cas's plan to pop Purgatory was the only viable solution to the Raphael problem and whether Dean should have supported Cas despite everything when the plot was revealed in 6.20. Again—this is a separate (though somewhat interrelated) discourse.

Despite all the crying about Bad Friend Dean, it was Cas who showed through his behavior throughout the season that he would rather treat Dean as a pawn than as a friend. Cas coerces and lies instead of just asking his friend for help. Forgive me if I'm not going to coddle him over it. If you've been in this fandom for a single moment, you know that the fanon fantasy of Dean being a horrible bad mean friend with a angelic guardian waiting on him hand and foot starts long before 6.20 when Dean rejects the finally revealed plan to pop Purgatory, and the whitewashing of Cas's actions and outright denial of Cas using Sam and Dean also starts long before then. So lets not move goal posts. I'm asking people to stop ignoring and misrepresenting every single thing that happened between Dean and Cas leading up to 6.20. I'm asking people to stop assigning all of those things only selective importance (i.e., they're only important when Dean was the "bad friend", but when Cas was, it didn't matter/didn't happen).

Now let's talk about "the plan to pop Purgatory" briefly and the utility of that plan and whether Dean not jumping to help Cas swallow every soul in Purgatory makes him a bad and mean and terrible friend. Multiple people in Cas's life tried to tell him his plans would backfire, and he didn't listen. He ended up starting an apocalypse which was the very thing he was trying to prevent. He just traded out Raphael for the Leviathan and made no meaningful progress toward an actual improvement in terms of "threats to the world as we know it". How exactly did he make anyone better off?

For some reason, some people insist on arguing that while it did backfire spectacularly, it was "the only option" to dispense with Raphael and "there was no other choice", but nobody saying that actually knows that. In fact from a meta/lore perspective, this is just... outright wrong. Archangels have been dealt with in any number of other ways over the course of the show. The Cage. A weird ass egg. The archangel sword. Spellwork. You can invent whatever goddamn lore you want. You cannot reasonably argue it was "the only option" when archangels repeatedly show up and are dispensed with in a variety of ways that aren't "swallowing all the souls in purgatory, going insane, declaring yourself god, and starting a new apocalypse so we're right back where we started".

The only reason "popping Purgatory" is the only plan we get in season 6 is that it's the only plan that Cas allows to be made. He refuses to so much as consider the possibility of anything else because he's so deeply caught in sunk cost fallacy. When Sam and Dean and Bobby finally learn what he's up to and disagree with his plan, Cas breaks Sam' brain to keep them out of his way. When Balthazar disagrees with his plan, Cas murders him.

i've also always been confused by dean's "i was here where were you?" because was he though? when they did find out, they punished him and cut him off instead of idk, strategizing with cas.

...No? It was the other way around.

6.20

Dean tried to get info on what was going on with Cas from 6.03 when he learned about the angelic war onward, and Cas would give vague answers then fly off. In 6.10, Dean asked if there was anything he and Sam could do and Cas said there wasn't. When he found out about Cas working with Crowley, Dean asked to brainstorm a new solution and work as a team and Cas refused to consider this for a single moment. He insisted nothing about his plan was broken despite multiple people warning him, and his own secret-keeping suggested his own conflicted feelings.

[sweetmariihs2]

Man! How these situations happen with me??! I have to make this public because oh my god

I had found a post, a random innocent post about the character Cedric from Sofia The First, asking if he would prefere dogs or cats. That was all! This was the post, and it was made by a friend of mine, that I know already. I answered "Oh I think he would like birds cuz he had a bird in the show and maybe he's used to take care of them more, I think it fits him!" And then my friend answered "well, I don't, I think he would be traumatized with taking care of them after his last bird friend betrayed him..." and I thought we were just exchanging opinions and having a conversation about a silly topic, like I always do with other people in fandoms when we disagree, we talk about what we think and see the things we agree in eachother's words. I then answered and gave more info why I thought that, thinking that the person would say "Ah ok I get it! I just don't understand it though. But I think that after the bird character betrayed him he wouldn't like taking care of birds anymore" and I would answer like "yeah it kinda makes sense, I think this because of this reason, but I get you"

No, man!! The person instead answered my comment "no I don't agree with you... I don't think that. No" and I thought "Oh ok maybe they don't want to have a fun little conversation. I don't want to argue about this silly topic, they will maybe try to argue with me, I don't want it, so I won't respond" and went on with my day.

Hours after that, I found a post that was made by the same person that made the previous post and had the conversation with me (it was all the same person and I consider them a friend since we know eachother and we are fandom buddies), but this person was writing:

"Why can't people see different headcanons and get out of canon material?

I used to be in said fandom and becauce I told them a headcanon I had they argued with me bc of my opinion, and now I see this happening in the Cedric fandom. For example today I made a post about Cedric liking cats or dogs and someone said he liked birds." (My personal note: what????????? Why am I mentioned in this)

"Guys don't do that. This makes the fandom awful to be in. These kinds of interactions are not good, don't turn the fandom toxic please" and ended the post.

I thought: what the hell????? But at the time I wasn't angry, I got embarassed and frustrated because this whole thing was unnecessary (this happened yesterday). This person had beef with me once in the past about another random silly topic abt Cedric, and I made a comment saying that "Cedric is childish in some aspects so maybe that's why certain thing blablabla" and the person, who is ALSO called Cedric, thought I was talking about them and got very very angry. When I understood the situation I spoke to him and he said sorry for misinterpretting my words. But he also told me something very specific about him, saying that he can sometimes misinterpret some things that people say and can see things negatively and react too fast or too negative, something like that. But yeah, that time the whole situation happened because of him misunderstanding me

And when the other situation happened yesterday, I thought "Ah he saw my comment and thought I was arguing. He told me about his problem of misinterpretting stuff so I'll go to him peacefully and explain that I wasn't intending to argue. But yeah that post using me as a bad example of something I didn't do was unnecessary and it certainly made me feel disrespected because I didn't do anything wrong. It will be easy they'll understand me and understand the situation" as if!! I reblogged their post and spoke about my pov, even showed screenshots of the comments, to show him that I wasn't arguing and wasn't disrespecting any opinion, and that his post about bad behavior and my mention in it made me feel disrespected. He is my friend and he can come to me and talk instead of posting and causing a situation he misinterpreted in the first place.

I got so anxious because I hate arguing, I hate conflicts! And this was something public and unnecessary about something I didn't do. I thought the end would be communication and that it would be easy, and I got anxious until the moment he answered me. My hands usually tremble when I'm anxious like that.

Well! At first he made a post in other account of his, absolutely not understanding my point, saying that he wouldn't take the post down (It would be good, yes, but I haven't even mentioned this! I didn't asked him to take the post down). But then seconds later, after I had already read it, he deleted the post and the notification tagging me also disappeared. And then he messaged me instead, also moments after that. And I though "phew! finally he wants to talk to me. Maybe he understood the situation, right??"

Nah he was arguing, definitely. His words were hella confusing to me because he said that I was making a conflict about something that wasn't a conflict-? I don't understand. I think he was misinterpretting me again, but I don't even know how to describe what he said since it was too confusing. I'll add screenshots because I'm confused as well. Don't read it if you don't want to

I have this in my mind, that "Dialogue is the best way to work through a conflict. Expressing why you felt disrespected is the right way to do it. Having a conversation." This is something confirmed by psychologists. And there is another thing in the study of dialogue that is when neurodivergent people and neurotypical people can't communicate properly because neurotypicals hear different intentions in neurodivergents just being literal and wanting to communicate, or when neurodivergents don't get something that neurotypicals meant cuz it was not literal, like for example when they're trying to make fun of the neurodivergent person saying like "omg where did you bought that shirt? from a landfill? lmao" and the neurodivergent innocently says "no actually I bought it from the store 😄 we can go together there if you want to!"

The same thing usually doesn't happen between two neurodivergent people because they're both literal and understand eachother literally, which it the best way to talk and understand other ppls feelings! And what is weird is that my friend Cedric is neurodivergent just like me, but he wasn't understanding me at all. I have a theory, for example, I'm 100% sure that I got my autism from my dad, and while he is literal like me, he tries to interpret some of my literal statements thinking that they're not literal and takes my words out of context. This probably happened because in his life he couldn't get subtle messages and tried to work around the problem by developing a way to indentify them, so sometimes I'm saying something normally and he gets it all wrong because his defense from letting comments pass works like this. He reads too much into what I said and gets it all wrong because in a moment of his life he had to do that to survive. We have to work through this.

I think the same thing happened with my friend Cedric and I don't blame him! He said later on that he get on conflics with a person often and this is related to his communication, and I said "Oh ok this makes sense. Yeah I'm not angry at you, man"

My dad for example is not aware of his bad habit. This person, on the other way around, is aware that they misunderstand other people, so if he is aware of that, he should try to speak to those he thinks that are arguing with him in private to try to understand the situation. But ok, sometimes people don't get these instructions, sometimes no one tells them that this is the right thing to do, specially in toxic environments. After our conversation then, he said sorry for what happened and understood that I was just talking. I don't want my written words to seem angry, I wanted them to seem paceful, and maybe he was reading them as angry because of his experience in toxic environment. And that was it! That was the conversation. We understood eachother and it ended yesterday.

They mentioned something like "I showed this to other people and they don't think I am in the wrong either" somewhere in the conversation and I got all confused because... I haven't done literally anything? I mean, he IS in the wrong for creating a situation that never existed and exposing me for something that I didn't do. Dropping down the calm explaining here, now I AM angry after the most recent post. I'm gonna tell you about the post.

"Hey um guys I am blocking the user @sweetmariihs2 because it's like the third time we argue and I want peace. I don't want to argue anymore"

I'm pissed, because someone random put me in a situation I didn't do anything to be involved, created a whole beef about something that wasn't even a fight, I thought we had understood eachother and he had understood that HIS misinterpretation problems were the cause of all this inconvenience to me, and that we were done and ok now. But no! Now they're coming publicly saying IN A POST, to other people who will read, that it's bad to keep contact with me cuz I fight. Like I was crazy or something! Now I have all the right to be pissed!

Third time? Excuse me?? The first time was when he minsunderstood me. The second time was when he misunderstood me again. There was no third time. Are you kidding??? You bother me twice and then makes a public post saying that you'll block me because I'M creating conflict?!? Fuck this.

I won't lose my mind here, I'll keep calm, but there's a moment a person can't keep taking shit anymore and just explodes! Damn, man! This was so unnecessary!

Think of the people that will read that post and think I'm crazy and I'm toxic to interact with. I got into an argument with a person that was harassing me in the past and made a post about this situation, and what was funny was that everyone was making other posts like, thinking we were beefing over stupid fandom headcanons. We weren'tttt!! The post was made because that person was going after me everywhere nonstop, harassing me! They made a blog to literally watch me and my posts after our argument, I have all the right to be mad! This was other situation with someone else. Now imagine these people, that saw this conflict in the past and think that I was "arguing" about "fandom stuff", seeing this post telling people publicly that Cedric will block me because I'm problematic. Man, stop stepping at my shoe! Leave me alone. Now I AM angry.

I thought we had made peace, I thought he had said sorry. The Cedric The Sorcerer fandom is smaller and smaller everyday, and I thought about blocking @cedricthewise to avoid fights too, but I thought "no, he just got it wrong, we said sorry, and I like his posts, not many people are talking about the character Cedric anymore, blocking is unnecessary". But thinking right now, I guess that I should have taken this decision wayyy back then. Imagine if I want to friendly interact in a future post and they interpret my words as hate, making another series of posts and conflicts that I didn't had anything to do with!

This kind of miscommunication will happen with Cedric and other people in the future and the best way to work around them is through dialogue. He KNOWS that he has a communication problem, and this will happen more times in his life, he needs to learn how to work through this. Man, I was misinterpreted and now there's a post publicly saying to everyone that blocking me is the best thing to do like I'm the cause of the situation. No I won't keep quiet! I will position myself! That's why I am making this post!

I thought everything had already ended and he said sorry. Man, if someone knows that they have interpretation problems, this someone needs to take their problems into account before getting into any conflicts, cuz sometimes they think someone is arguing, and this someone is not. Imagine if someone started having beef with you out of nowhere and then after saying sorry they made a public post saying to everyone that they'll block you. I don't care about the block, it's about the post again! He could have just quietly blocked me if he thought it was the best thing to do, but a post? What does he want to do with that post? He wants the Cedric fandom to hate me or something? I'm really known here! I'm the nicest, most respectful person you'll ever see, can you see how many times I was patient with bullshit only in this situation with Cedric? Now I'm not anymore! I'm making myself very clear in case he wonders what I'm feeling right now, I'm angry! I'm very angry and feeling disrespected. I don't want interactions with him anymore either.

I'm gonna make a rude statement here, but despite being rude, it's something we should take for our lives. Personal problems need to be dealt with in therapy, not with me, because I'm not a psychologist. If someone says they have reactive problems, trying to help is the worst thing you can do, because in the end you'll always end up screwing yourself over. The best thing to do is not interact with that person. Don't get involved in a situation with someone you know that has problems with being in situations. I don't want to go back to this discussion and, it will be a great loss to not see their posts anymore because they're nice, but my mental health will thank me so fucking much for just cutting contact with living ticking time bombs.

That's the end of the post. Stupid unnecessary situation.

I'm keeping the stf tags because that's for the stf fans to read.

[ismyteadoneyet]

I think I accidentally uncovered yesterday why my family generally are fine with generative AI, especially when it comes to arts and "creative" matters.

I am (famously) quite bad at taking compliments (though I have gotten WAY better at it, and am actively working on it), and was drawing on my tablet while my parents sat next to me. My mom complimented my drawing skills, following it up with "I can barely draw a stick figure".

(Side note: this might be a me-problem, but I think that combining a compliment with a "comparison to the speaker" gives the compliment a sour undertone, but again, that might just be me. I've seen too many posts and things about "comparison is the theif of joy" or whatever the quote is, to feel comfy with accepting a compliment that essentially boils down to "holy crap you're so much better than me!!" 🫠🫠)

I thanked her, and replied with something along the lines of "it's all about practice, and I have practiced a lot," to which she countered with "no but like, you've always been good at drawing," to which I tried explaining that, like a muscle, I have been drawing and doodling a lot, in other words, practiced, right? I have always had an interest in drawing, which of course helps keeping me motivated to actually get better at it. And if she wanted to be able to draw more than a stick figure, I am certain she would be able to if she did practice (I brought up PewDiePie's drawing videos as an example), but she dismissed it entirely as something she wasn't able to do.

Even though my mother, having an interest in the human body and as a result knowing damn near every single muscle in the body by the latin name because she studied that, refused to accept that I have done the same to get better at my own skill, because, of course, I never went to school for it, right? I don't have a diploma to prove that I have practiced an ungodly amount of hours and watched more tutorials than I will ever care to count.

Being "good at drawing" (and other arts) is (I think) something my family simply believes that you either are born with, or you're not.

And that's where the justification for gen AI comes in, right? Because if arts is not a thing you practice and study to get better at, it is probably, in their minds, ableist to talk bad about gen AI, because "how can you gatekeep expression in art like that?" (My brother once pulled the argument that "well what if someone wants to make a comic and has the story and all but can't draw? Don't you think they deserve to create that comic in other ways, then?" to which I have never been more confused because what the entire fuck do you think other comic artists did to achieve that in the past, my guy??)

I eventually gave up when my mom kept asking me to "just accept the compliment" but I haven't quite been able to. Because if the compliment is just regarding something "I had since I was born", what has all my practice been for? Why have I "wasted" all this time trying to get better if I was born with the skillset I have now? Why is the compliment directed at me if my parents were the ones bringing me into this world? Shouldn't they be patting themselves on the back for bringing such a creative spirit to life?

[blackbird-brewster]

It's nearly been one month since I had surgery, and while the sutures have mostly healed, the debilitating (very unexpected) side effects have only gotten worse.

I wish I could find the words to express how scary and emotional this has been for both me and my partner. But the whole problem is that I've lost my ability to understand/interpret complex language (amongst other serious cognitive problems).

I have tried to stay optimistic, but it's so fucking hard when every one of the past 27 days has been nothing but a blur. I've lost all short-term memory, I cannot tell you a single thing that's happened in the past month. Hell, I can't even tell you what I did this morning!

I am completely unable to perceive time. I have what we call 'time slips' where I lose chunks (usually hours) of time with no recollection of what I did during them. Yesterday I was SO certain something happened 4 days before and my partner had to remind me it had only been the day before.

I can't remember routines. I can't cook, I need help doing housework. I have post-it's all over the house, with step-by-step instructions for even the most basic tasks. There's one taped to the outside of the shower glass, because I was having difficulty remembering the steps of how to shower. Prior to making this instruction sheet, I had gotten stuckin the middle of showering, because I genuinely couldn't remember what came next in my routine. I couldn't even recall of I'd already washed my hair, so I had to start all over again.

Usually, writing would be my coping mechanism. But I have lost the ability to write altogether. I can put words on a page but they're completely disorganised and make zero sense. I can't read either, even my own fics I've read 100x before feel like they're in another language when I try to read them.

Because of this constant state of confusion, I can't drive, I can't look after myself without my partner helping me tons. I have basically lost all of my autonomy.

It is as if I developed full blown dementia overnight. It's so terrifying to suddenly lose all cognitive function.

I feel like I've lost what makes me, me. My partner has had to become a full-time carer on top of their full-time job. Without them constantly checking in with me throughout the day, I wouldn't even remember to eat or take meds or drink water. We've had to put so many systems in place just to try and make sure I remember to do the very minimum tasks relating to daily living.

We have been through plenty of hardships over the past seven years, but this current situation has been the worst, it's a constant test of our relationship. I am forever grateful to have such a phenomenal partner to help me through this rn. I love you so much @phantomhag-666.

We're hoping our new doctor might be able to give us some answers. But bc I have such a complicated medical history, it might take some time to figure out what's happening. At this point, I can only pray this isn't a permanent change for me.

[security-chief-odo]

To Love and Be Loved in Return - Chapter 3

Roy Kent x Reader

Read chapter 2 here

Description: Roy reluctantly gets advice from the remaining Diamond Dogs

Note: So sorry it took me so long to post.

Word Count: ~1.3k

• • •

Back in the coaches’ office at Richmond a loud thud fills the silent room as Roy throws his phone across the room.

Beard glances up from the book in his hands and looks pointedly between Roy and the phone. “You wanna talk about whatever made you do that?”

Roy lets out a gruff “No.” and buries his face in his hands. Beard shrugs in response and side eyeing Roy still before returning to his book.

“Fine.” Roy huffs as if Beard’s silence had somehow forced him into opening up. “I fucked everything up and I’m pretty sure she hates me now.”

Raising an eyebrow, he asks “Who hates you? Y/n?” Roy has never said anything, but Beard is more than aware of his crush on you. Roy was softer with you than with anyone else, and on days you weren’t there? Heaven help that whole damn team.

“Yeah, probably.” Roy sighs.

“You know what this problem sounds like it needs?” Roy raises an eyebrow at Beards question before it dawns on him.

“Don’t say the fucking Diamond Dogs.”

“Afraid so” Beard replies with a certain mischief to his voice as he picks up his phone to text Nate and Higgins.

Before long Roy finds himself surrounded by three adult men who are quite literally howling with excitement. “I hate you all,” he grumbles.

They all settle down and Higgins is the first to speak up. “What can we help you with, Roy?”

“Well I like,” he hesitates before opting to try to maintain some secrecy on the matter, “this woman–”

Nate chimes in “Oh, y/n, right?

Incredulously Roy replies, “Does everyone fucking know?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Higgins nods.

“I think so.” Nate shrugs.

“Well you haven’t exactly been subtle.” Beard adds.

“Fuck, well, yesterday I was talking to y/n about my schedule and she brought up the gala. I asked if she was going, she said she didn’t know if she was invited and I offered to bring her as my plus one.”

“And she turned you down?” Nate asked in confusion, assuming that would have to be the problem.

“No, she said yes, I’m buying her a dress.”

“Then what’s the problem exactly? She said yes to being your date. ” Higgins questioned.

“Well it’s not a date. She made that clear when she told me I’m the “best boss ever.’” He added air quotes as he repeated what you had said. “Then today, I asked her to a lunch date and she said she had plans with Rebecca and Keeley – which is fine – but then she just texted she isn’t coming back to work today and I can’t help thinking that it’s because I made her uncomfortable and now she’s avoiding me until she can find a kind way to reject me.”

They all nod along as Roy continues, “Now I don’t know how to fix things. I never should have fucking asked her out. I’m her boss, she clearly wouldn’t have feelings for me. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Uh sorry if I’m wrong here, but uh,” Nate hesitantly adds “I don’t think you ever actually did ask her out.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Roy fires back.

“No, I think he has a point.” Beard nods.

“Yeah, you said that she agreed to go to the gala but clarified that it wasn’t a date?” Higgens started to pry.

“Well not exactly.” Roy sort of bashfully added. “She said I was the best boss for buying her a dress, but I was actually the one who said it wasn’t a date.”

“Right. So then the lunch date. Did you phrase it like that?” Higgins continued his interrogation.

“Well, no, but she said no to lunch.”

“Right because she had lunch plans already. Did she say anything else about the lunch that would make you think she thought it was a date?”

“No, uh, she asked to reschedule it for next week.”

Beard leans forward, “So let me get this straight, you didn’t ask her out twice, both times she agreed in one way or another, and you decided to clarify that it was entirely platonic?” Roy nods in agreement. “Now, she went out to lunch with her friends and is starting her weekend early, and that means she hates you?”

“Well when you say it like that it sounds fucking stupid.”

The other three exchange knowing glances at that, which does not go unnoticed by Roy.

“Alright, fuck off.”

**********

Roy gets home late after spending hours on paperwork that was really just an excuse to stop thinking actual thoughts.

He settles onto his couch and for the first time since lunchtime checks his phone. He’s missed several texts from both you and Keeley. Hell, he’s even got one from Rebecca, which of course he opens first because that is somehow scarier than anything you could have said.

REBECCA: You’re an idiot.

Well, at least he hasn’t been fired. He considers asking why, but decides it’s best that he doesn’t know. Next he decides to open up the texts from you and is bombarded with kind messages.

Y/N: You’re a great fucking boss.

Y/N: You’re always so kind and understanding, even if you’re grumpy about it. Jamie called you grumpy today.

Y/N: He told me that you like me.

There was no fucking way even Jamie fucking Tartt had figured it out.

Y/N: You’re such a good friend.

Roy let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in. At the very least, if Jamie knew something, he hadn’t told you.

Y/N: You’re sooo funny too.

Y/N: YOu’re so sweet too. Not with everyone, but with Phoebe, you’re so sweet.

Y/N: You just pretend to be mean.

Roy couldn’t help chuckling to himself in sheer confusion.

Y/N: Royyy

Y/N: Why are you ignoring me?

Your last text came in 10 minutes ago. He moved onto Keeley’s messages, which were almost entirely photos. He swiped through them. The first was a selfie of the three of you, the next a picture of you dancing, then three more of you dancing, and one of you all doing shots together.

Suddenly your texts all made sense. You were drunk. Very drunk.

He stares at the photos of you for a while, then more come through. Once again, all photos of you.

Fuck, did literally everyone know how he felt? Was Keeley doing this to tease him? Just seeing you looking like you were having fun and seeming so relaxed does something for him. You will be the death of him.

He looked over your texts again and finally decided to call you.

“Roy!” you excitedly yell into the mic.

“Y/N,” he chuckles to himself. “Had a lot to drink?”

“Maybe,” your words slur.”It’s not my fault. Rebecca was buying us shots. Who am I to turn them down?”

“Ok, ok. You almost ready to head home?”

“Yeah, Rebecca was about to call a car.”

“Tell her not to bother. I’ll come get you all. Send me the address.”

“Ok,” you reply. “You’re so nice.”

Roy sighs as he grabs his keys. “Get me that address please y/n”

“Yes, sir” you let out a giggle and a smile lights up Roy’s face at the sound.

“See you soon.”

“See ya!” you reply, hanging up the phone call.

Roy shakes his head at himself. He is absolutely fucking smitten with you. He gathers himself with a deep breath as he heads out the door to go get you.

• • •

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten @taytaylala12 @siriuslyreads @ashy-kit

Chapter 4

[sometipsygnostalgic]

hypocritical because im a homestuck but i dont like simply extracting my favourite parts of media and leaving the rest behind.

shera fandom. i have things to say.

as a huge entrapta fan and an entrapdak fan i see a lot of other entrapdak fans try to extract the pairing from the show and label every other character as an asshole. you'll see a lot of "the princesses" or "the alliance" as this faceless whole of bullies. which drives me absolutely insane. because if you look at the show, "the alliance" is filled with a WHOLE BUNCH OF PEOPLE, each of which has a completely DIFFERENT relationship to Entrapta, and it's only Entrapta herself who ever sees them as this unified big group that she's tried to befriend. I think there's a failure here to understand how entrapta's perception of events isn't entirely accurate. Bow and Adora, for example, were always trying to get her on their side - even though she hurt them the most directly - and they let her do what she needed to do even when it resulted in untold chaos. i also think there's a failure to try to understand what ableism is present in shera and what is not, and where the writing errors lie and how they can be rectified. there's this idea of "it can NEVER be rectified and the characters CANNOT be friends", despite... yknow... the show demonstrating otherwise, and the reason this is especially egregious is I'm sure people ONLY write it that way so they can push entrapta even closer to hordak by alienating her from all her other relationships. to do otherwise would require acknowledging that hordak has done bad things to the other characters and he needs to WORK on himself if he wants to be around them.

as a huge catra fan there was a post on reddit yesterday where someone put a tier list where catra was at the bottom. there was a LOT of people saying it was terrible and the person didn't understand the show, and i feel that perception, but there was also someone saying that anyone has the RIGHT to find a character really annoying and mean, and that they see catra this way. I thought about this, and realised that SO MANY people who will diehard stan Catra and argue that the post was insane will ALSO rank GLIMMER as a bottom character, simply because they find her annoying and mean. it made me think, why is it okay for people to find glimmer annoying and hate her, but suddenly toxic and ableist (the words a certain user had) for people to find catra mean and annoying? why is one thing suddenly a problem when both characters are fundamentally the same? there is a lack of self reflection in how people regard some of the characters. you can't just take Catra out of shera, project yourself onto her, and forget about all the other characters, what she's done to them, what kind of people might connect with them. you can't decide that catra good and glimmer bad because you like catra more.

[bekaroth-reads]

Dante Sparda x Reader

[This is getting posted late at night and I haven’t proof read it. So, sorry if there’s a bunch of mistakes in this. I just remembered that I love Dante and I wanted to write something about him]

There was so much that needed to be done still. You had offered to help Dante with some of the more paperwork related things for Devil May Cry, as he had just gotten back from a job yesterday and seemed pretty exhausted. Not to mention, you both knew that he needed help balancing his budget. As much as he swore he had only been buying essentials and had no idea why he was still running low on cash, you knew for a fact that his freezer had so much ice cream in it that there was hardly room for anything else. You almost couldn’t blame him for splurging, everyone does now and then. The problem was that he had a tendency to treat himself every time he went out.

So, here you were, sitting at the counter that doubled as the table in the tiny apartment above the office. Dante had gone to bed a while ago, and since he had, you had lost track of time. The old floorboards squeaked and creaked as Dante dragged his feet on them. Once he had gotten to where you were, he flopped all of his weight on top of you, pinning you to the counter and almost tipping over the stool you were sitting on.

“Dante!” You squawk as you try to keep your balance yourself and your boyfriend who was apparently too tired to help.

“Baby… Baby, Baby, Baby~” he hummed as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder and gave it a few kisses.

Finally, you were able sit yourself back up. Dante was still hanging on you, but he moved his arms from being on top of yours to wrapping around your waist. This was followed by a giant yawn you were certain that he howled right into your ear on purpose.

“Come to bed.” Dante whines as he tried to use his hold on your waist to pull you back to the bedroom with him.

“I will in a bit. I’ve got to finish your bookkeeping.” You reply as you reverse the roles and lean on him.

Dante pulled you closer, and a hum rumbled in throat, almost as croaky as the rest of his tired voice.

“Why now? Do it tomorrow.” He slid his hand up your arm and took the pencil you were holding to sit it down.

When you went to grab it again, Dante grabbed your hand, brought it up to his lips, and mumbled, “I missed you.”

You weren’t sure if he meant that he missed you while he was away on his job or if he meant that he couldn’t sleep well without you with him. But, one there was one thing that you did know and that was that he was trying anything he could think of to get you to go with him; at the moment he was trying pity.

“As tempting as you are, your, ‘do it tomorrow,’ attitude is the reason I’m stuck doing this right now.” You sat forward again and pulled your hand away.

Just as you sat forward, Dante was quick to pull you back. This time he made sure to lean you both so that he could look at you. Even though he looked exhausted, his chesty nature was clearly shining through, his crooked smile that slightly crinkled the corner of his nose on full display.

“So, I’m tempting, huh?” He playfully bit his lip as he started to grab at your sides.

You swatted his hands away. “Is that really the only thing you heard?”

“No. But, it’s the most important thing I heard.” Dante laughed as he leaned down and gave your lips a peck.

That didn’t seem to be enough for him as he went in for another as soon as he had pulled away. Then another after that. Then another and one more. Then his hands shot up to hold the sides of your face as he gave you more passionate kiss, which you happily returned.

When the two of you finally broke the kiss his hold on your loosened but stayed, and he kept as close to you as he could.

“Please.” Dante whispered against your lips; it was genuine, pleading.

You responded by giving him another kiss before standing up. He smiled and kept and arm wrapped around you the whole way to the bedroom.

Once you were both in bed, Dante got as close to you as quickly as he could. Leaning his head down, he once again placed a kiss on your shoulder. “I did really miss you.” He mumbled, sleep creeping up on him once more.

“I missed you too.” You hummed as you turned to face him and draped your arm on him.

The only thing you heard from him after that was light snoring, which soon lulled you to sleep as well.