#And you know...these guys suffer through a shit ton of trauma

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

Some of my favorite characters have tattoos. Some happen to be from popular enough fandoms that MAYBE I’ll find their iconic tattoo for sale. (Though now adays you can customize temp tattoos so that’s an option too. Though for quality, even in tempt tattoos, it can get a bit pricey) So when I stumbled across these at my local Walgreens I bought them! The only hurdle then was my own artistic talent...

And that’s a work in progress. 

Anyway, my Domestic and Parental McDanno headcanon is that Charlie finds some footing in the arts. Something both Danny and Steve encourage a lot. During one stint when Danny was over in Jersey and something wasn’t right but no one really knew much...and as much as Steve would have bolted to NJ the moment he could, he had Charlie in his charge and needed to focus on him. There was just a lot of waiting. A lot of waiting where words sometimes failed him because he didn’t want to worry nor lie to Charlie. It first happened with washable markers and no clean paper in sight. Steve asked Charlie for ideas about his next tattoo and it ended up drawing a ‘sample’ in washable marker. It helped them remain calm and still until they got news that Danny was okay and would be on his way back!

In the mean time Steve goes to buy Charlie more art supplies to always have at hand when he spots the temp tattoo markers...and he gets them. 

The night before Danno’s back, Charlie works on Steve’s arms with more concentration and carefulness. Though now that they know Danny’s safe and on his way back to them, they talk a bit more. Steve has something to focus on and staying as still as he could in the chair of any tattoo artist. 

When they pick up Danno from the airport, after a tight embrace to both his boys, Danny points to Steve’s arm, “Growing out the sleeve?” 

“Found a new artist that accepts ice cream and Scooby Doo merch as payment.” Steve replied,flexing his arm to showcase Charlie’s work proudly. 

--

The habit doesn’t stay with Charlie. After one of their cases goes south and their lives were at stake again...mostly Steve’s, Steve offers some of Charlie’s markers to Danny to write on him with. Symbolic branding, an anchoring as well, and a way for them let tension ebb away when words aren’t good enough but they need to do something(that because of their injuries can’t be strainous activity)

Steve for his part, always walks around proudly with his temp tattoos.

(Though he and Danny make a date of getting tattoos together not long after this little habit starts)  

[artyandink]

the art of heresy forged 1981

SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

TW: psychological torture, trauma, angst, smut, drinking, consumption of drugs, smoking, mentions of sex, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), Ben and Psyke being little shits, it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, literal crack

STW: unprotected sex (again, not advised, guys), fingering, oral sex (f. receiving)

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: …Ready for It? - Taylor Swift

three - me, you, my mind

1981:

The hospital corridors smelled of antiseptic and despair, the kind that clung to your skin no matter how much you tried to shake it off. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed incessantly, casting a cold, sterile glow over everything. You hated hospitals. Always had. Too much death, too much pain, too much everything. But you were here for a reason, and not even the oppressive atmosphere could keep you away.

The receptionist at the front desk had given you a wary look when you strolled in, your usual swagger evident in every step. She knew who you were—everyone did. But she also knew the rules, and that made her think she had the power to stop you. Poor thing didn’t know what she was up against.

“I’m here to see Elizabeth, uh, Liz,” you said, leaning over the counter slightly, your voice gruff with impatience. “She’s just had a baby.”

The receptionist, a mousy woman in her early forties, blinked up at you with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but only the father is allowed to visit right now. Hospital policy.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to let loose a string of expletives. “Yeah, well, policy be damned. I’m not just anyone, sweetheart. I’m Psyke. Recognise the name, doll?”

The woman’s eyes widened further, recognition dawning as she realized just who she was dealing with. You weren’t exactly the friendly neighborhood superhero type, but your name carried a ton of weight, and that weight was enough to get you what you wanted eleven times out of ten. She stammered, trying to find the right words to appease you while also following the rules she was undoubtedly tired of enforcing.

“I—I’m sorry, but—”

You leaned in closer, dropping your voice to a menacing whisper. “Look, I don’t have time for this shit. My sister just gave birth, and I’m not leaving this place until I’ve seen her and my niece. So, either you can let me in, or we can make this a whole lot more difficult for everyone involved. Your choice.”

The receptionist swallowed hard, clearly torn between her duty and the fear you’d expertly instilled in her. She fumbled with the papers on her desk before finally giving a reluctant nod. “Room 312,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s in Room 312.”

“Good girl,” you muttered, already striding down the corridor without a backward glance. You could feel the eyes of the staff on you, their hushed whispers following in your wake, but you didn’t give a damn. Let them talk. You had more important things to worry about.

The walk to Liz’s room felt longer than it should have. You kept your eyes forward, ignoring the sterile white walls and the smell of bleach that permeated the air. Hospitals always had a way of making you feel like you were suffocating, like the weight of all the pain and suffering within those walls was pressing down on your chest. But this was different. This was family.

When you finally reached Room 312, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the door handle. You weren’t used to feeling nervous—hell, you weren’t used to feeling anything other than anger or disdain most of the time—but right now, with Liz on the other side of that door, you felt something close to apprehension. She’d just given birth, for fuck’s sake. What were you supposed to say?

You pushed the thought aside and shoved the door open, stepping into the room with a confidence you didn’t quite feel. The sight that greeted you was one that would stay with you forever.

Liz was lying in the hospital bed, her face pale but glowing with a kind of serenity you’d never seen in her before. Her blonde hair was tousled, sticking to her forehead with sweat, and she looked exhausted—but happy. In her arms, she cradled a tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket, her gaze fixed on the newborn with a tenderness that made something in your chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Liz,” you said, your voice uncharacteristically soft as you stepped closer to the bed. “How’re you holding up?”

Liz looked up at you, her tired eyes brightening as a smile spread across her face. “Well, look who finally decided to show up,” she teased, though there was no real bite to her words. “You missed all the fun.”

“Yeah, well, I had to wrestle a few assholes to get in here,” you replied, slipping back into your usual bravado. “But I wasn’t gonna let a bunch of rules keep me from meeting my niece.”

Liz chuckled softly, the sound warm and full of affection. “Meet Georgia,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced down at the baby in her arms. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

You leaned in closer, your heart doing an odd little flip as you got your first real look at the tiny human cradled in your sister’s arms. Georgia was small—so small it made you feel like a fucking giant in comparison—with a tuft of dark hair peeking out from under the blanket and her eyes squeezed shut. Her little face was scrunched up like she was already fed up with the world, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Perfect?” you scoffed, though your voice lacked its usual bite. “She looks like a pissed-off potato.”

Liz laughed, a sound that was both tired and full of joy. “That’s one way to put it,” she said, looking down at Georgia with a mother’s love in her eyes. “But she’s my pissed-off potato.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease a bit. “You did good, Liz. Real good.”

“Thanks,” Liz said softly, her gaze still locked on Georgia. “You want to hold her?”

The question caught you off guard. You weren’t the maternal type—not by a long shot. Kids were loud, messy, and a pain in the ass most of the time. But as you looked down at Georgia, something in you shifted, just a little. Maybe it was the fact that she was family, or maybe it was the way Liz was looking at you, but for the first time in your life, you found yourself wanting to protect something—someone—more than anything else.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice rough as you reached out to take the tiny bundle from Liz. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Liz carefully handed Georgia over, and you cradled the newborn in your arms, feeling her warmth seep into your skin. She was so fucking small, her tiny fingers curling into fists as she squirmed slightly in your hold. For a moment, you felt completely out of your depth, unsure of how to hold something so delicate without breaking it.

But then Georgia let out a small, contented sigh, and you felt something inside you melt. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt something so…pure. So untainted by the shitstorm that was your life. It was almost enough to make you believe in something good.

“Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, your voice surprisingly gentle as you looked down at your niece. “I’m your auntie. Your life’s about to get a whole lot more interesting, cause I’m a fuckin’ supe. You’re gonna be well protected from nasty bullies, jellybean.”

Liz watched you with a soft smile, her eyes filled with a warmth you hadn’t seen in a long time. “She’s going to need someone like you in her life,” she said quietly. “Someone who won’t take shit from anyone.”

You snorted, but there was no real humor in it. “Yeah, well, that’s something I’m good at.”

Liz’s smile faltered slightly, and she reached out to place a hand on your arm. “Promise me you’ll be there for her. For me. You know how things are with Vince. He’s…”

Her voice trailed off, but you knew what she meant. Vince was an asshole, plain and simple. He wasn’t going to be winning any Father of the Year awards, that much was certain. You’d never liked him, but Liz had always been the one with the bleeding heart, always seeing the good in people even when there wasn’t any to be found.

“I’ll be there,” you said, your voice firm as you looked down at Georgia. “I promise.”

Liz let out a small sigh of relief, her grip on your arm tightening slightly. “Thank you.”

“I still don’t know why you married the guy.” You snorted, shaking your head. “Am I still not allowed to bash his face in?”

“That’s a stretch.”

“I have enough money from Payback to take care’a both of us. And Soldier Boy could help if I asked him.” You protested, but she shook her head.

Liz gave you a soft smile. “I’d be indebted to you. And I always have been, you’re my older sister and you’ve been all I know. But I’m gonna do this my way, as much as I’d like to meet the guy who’s fucking my older sister.”

“He’s a real good fuck too.”

“I bet he is.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound in the room the soft breathing of the newborn in your arms. It was a moment of calm, a rare reprieve from the chaos that usually filled your life. You found yourself reluctant to break the silence, content to just be there with Liz and Georgia.

But eventually, reality began to creep back in, and you knew you couldn’t stay in this little bubble forever. With a reluctant sigh, you carefully handed Georgia back to Liz, the weight of responsibility settling back onto your shoulders.

“Alright,” you said, your voice rough as you cleared your throat. “I should probably get going. Let you get some rest.”

Liz looked up at you, her eyes filled with gratitude. “You don’t have to go just yet.”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Nah, you need your rest. I’ll be back soon.”

Liz nodded, though you could see the reluctance in her eyes. “Okay. But don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you said with a smirk, though there was an edge of seriousness to your tone. “Take care of yourself, Liz. And take care of Georgia.”

“I will,” Liz promised, her voice soft. “Thank you for being here.”

You nodded, giving her one last look before turning to leave the room. But just as you reached the door, Liz called out to you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey, sis?”

You turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Liz hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I just want you to know… you’re going to be a great aunt.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But then you felt a small, genuine smile tug at your lips, and you nodded.

“Thanks, Liz,” you said quietly. “I’ll do my best.”

And with that, you turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you. As you made your way down the corridor, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You had a niece now—a tiny, pissed-off potato of a niece who was going to need you in her life. It was a strange feeling, knowing that you were responsible for someone other than yourself. But as you thought about Georgia’s tiny face and Liz’s hopeful smile, you found yourself determined to live up to the promise you’d made.

No matter what it took, you were going to be there for Georgia. You were going to be the aunt she needed, the one who wouldn’t take shit from anyone and who would always have her back. Because that’s what family was about.

Even for someone like you.

Ben’s hotel room smelled of smoke and something faintly sweet, a scent that clung to the silk robe he wore loosely over his broad frame. The black fabric shimmered under the dim light of the bedside lamp, emphasizing every movement he made as he lounged back in the chair by the window, a cigar between his fingers. You watched him take a long, slow drag, the end glowing bright red before he exhaled a thick plume of smoke into the room.

“Congrats on your sister,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, rough around the edges. “She popped out a kid, huh?”

You leaned back on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows, and let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, she did. Little girl, Georgia. Cute as hell, too—though she looks like a potato right now.”

Ben chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through the room. “They all look like that at first. Wrinkled and pissed off, like they know what kind of shit they’ve been born into.”

You snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

He leaned back further in his chair, his robe falling open slightly, exposing more of his muscular chest. His green eyes were sharp as they flicked over to you, something unreadable in them as he took another drag from his cigar. “You ever think about it? Having kids?”

You shrugged, pretending to be more interested in the cigarette you were holding than the direction the conversation was taking. “Not really. Never thought I’d be the mom type. Too much of a hard-ass for all that soft shit.”

“Yeah,” Ben muttered, rolling the cigar between his fingers. “That’s what I thought about Marjorie too.”

The mention of Crimson Countess—Marjorie—hung in the air between you like a bad stench. You’d seen the two of them together often enough, the way they played up their public romance for the cameras, all smiles and perfect poses. It was all bullshit, and you both knew it. Ben and Marjorie weren’t a real couple—they were just a convenient PR package, wrapped up nice and neat to sell to the public.

“Marjorie and kids?” You scoffed at the thought, raising an eyebrow at him. “Can’t picture that.”

Ben let out a dry laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor. “Neither could I. Even back in the day, when we were…whatever the fuck we were, she never talked about kids. Hell, I didn’t either.”

You nodded, taking a slow drag from your cigarette. “Too much of a mess, all of it. The world’s gone to shit, and bringing a kid into it? That’s a special kind of hell.”

“Exactly.” Ben’s voice was rough, tinged with something bitter. He took another long pull from his cigar, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared out the window. “Can’t even imagine what kind of life they’d have. Constant danger, growing up with assholes like us around. Nah, better off without.”

The bitterness in his tone matched the cynical look in his eyes, and you found yourself nodding in agreement. “Yeah, no need to drag anyone else into this fucked-up world.”

Ben’s gaze flicked back to you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And you? Think your sister made a mistake?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, turning the cigarette between your fingers. “Nah, Liz is different. She’s…I don’t know, softer. She’s got a heart that isn’t covered in layers of steel and hate. Maybe she can make it work.”

Ben let out a huff, the smirk still in place as he shook his head. “That’s one hell of an optimistic view coming from you. Never thought I’d hear it.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a playful shove with your foot. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Just because I think Liz can handle it doesn’t mean I’d ever want the same shit for myself. No way.”

Ben grinned at that, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned forward, his cigar hanging lazily between his lips. “So, if not kids, what the hell do you want, then? What’s left for someone like you, huh?”

The question was loaded, and you knew it. What did you want? In this world of lies, violence, and constant manipulation, it was hard to even remember what you used to want, let alone what you wanted now. But there was something in the way Ben was looking at you, a challenge in his eyes that made you want to answer, to say something, anything that would push back against the darkness that threatened to swallow you both.

You flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching as it floated to the floor, and met his gaze head-on. “I want to keep living. Fighting. Whatever comes my way, I want to face it and make sure it doesn’t break me.”

Ben’s smirk widened into a full grin, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Now that, I can get behind. You’re a tough one, I’ll give you that.”

“Damn right I am,” you shot back, your tone dripping with confidence. “What about you, huh? What’s left for the great Soldier Boy?”

Ben’s grin faded slightly, his expression hardening as he took another drag from his cigar. “Same as you, I guess. Just keep going, keep fighting, and make sure the world doesn’t forget who the hell I am.”

There was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable that he quickly covered up with another puff of smoke. You didn’t push it—Ben wasn’t the type to open up easily, and you weren’t the type to pry. But there was a part of you that understood, that recognized the fear of being forgotten, of being rendered obsolete in a world that was constantly moving forward without you.

You took a final drag from your cigarette, then crushed it in the ashtray on the nightstand. “We’re both stubborn bastards, that’s for sure.”

Ben chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “Damn right. And don’t you forget it.”

You met his gaze, feeling the tension in the room shift slightly, a different kind of heat sparking between you. There was something electric in the air, something that had been simmering beneath the surface since you’d walked into the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt it—hell, it wasn’t even the first time you’d acted on it—but tonight felt different. There was an edge to it, a kind of desperation that neither of you could ignore.

Ben’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, his gaze lingering on your lips before trailing down to the curve of your neck. “You know, you always did know how to push my buttons.”

You felt a smirk tug at your lips as you leaned back on the bed, your eyes locked on his. “Is that right? And here I thought I was just being my charming self.”

He let out a low growl, his grin widening as he pushed himself out of the chair and moved toward the bed. “Charming, my ass. You’re a goddamn menace.”

You didn’t bother to argue, your heart pounding in your chest as Ben closed the distance between you. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing as he reached out and pulled you toward him, his hands rough and insistent on your skin. The silk robe he wore brushed against your arm, the fabric cool and smooth compared to the heat of his touch.

“Ben,” you murmured, your voice a low whisper as his lips found your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

“Shut up,” he growled against your throat, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, the warmth of his palms sending shivers down your spine. “Just shut up.”

You couldn’t help the low moan that escaped your lips as his hands roamed over your body, the roughness of his touch contrasting with the softness of the silk robe. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved, the way he took control, like he needed this as much as you did.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as his lips found yours, the kiss hard and demanding. It was a battle for dominance, neither of you willing to back down, both of you determined to take what you wanted. His hands slid under your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, and you didn’t hesitate to do the same with his robe, the silk falling to the floor in a heap.

The cool air of the room hit your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of Ben’s body as he pressed against you, his hands roaming over every inch of exposed flesh. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely-contained need that matched your own.

“Fuck,” you muttered against his lips, your nails digging into his back as he pushed you down onto the bed. “You’re gonna leave marks.”

“Good,” he growled, his voice rough with desire as he trailed kisses down your neck, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “I want you to remember this.”

You arched into him, a low moan escaping your lips as his mouth found the sensitive spot on your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You didn’t care about the bruises, didn’t care about the pain—if anything, it only made you want him more.

“Ben,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he moved lower, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Shut up,” he growled, sucking on your skin as he threw your legs apart. Touch practiced. Rough.

You gasped, the sharp sensation of his mouth on your skin sending jolts of heat through your body. Ben’s lips were rough and eager as they explored the curve of your collarbone, trailing lower until he reached the edge of your bra. You shivered under his touch, a thrill racing through you as he sucked gently at the delicate skin there, his fingers gripping your waist with a possessiveness that made your heart race.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. “Can’t believe I waited this long.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers curling into his hair as you pulled him closer. “It’s been a few hours since you fucked me.”

He looked up at you then, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Few hours too long, sweet thing.”

With that, his hands slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers brushing against the skin of your thighs. You felt the heat of his touch radiating through the thin fabric, and a low growl rumbled in his throat as he pushed your pants down, baring your legs to the cool air.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his fingers trailing up your thighs with agonizing slowness. “You’re fucking perfect.”

You could barely respond, too lost in the heat pooling in your core as his fingers finally found their way to the center of your desire. He paused, teasing you for a moment, before sliding a single finger between your folds, pushing against you with just the right amount of pressure.

“Ben,” you gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through you. You felt raw, exposed, and completely at his mercy. He moved slowly at first, his finger gliding effortlessly as he worked you up, the pressure building with each tantalizing stroke.

“Easy there, sugar,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “We’ve got all night. I want to take my time with you.”

You opened your eyes to find him watching you intently, his green gaze dark with desire. There was something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, that sent another wave of heat crashing through you.

“Don’t tease me,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper as his finger curled inside you, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. “I need more.”

“Need more?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you. “You’ve got it, babe.”

With that, he slipped in another finger, stretching you open, and you moaned loudly, biting down on your lip to suppress any further sounds. He moved them in a slow, rhythmic motion, and you could feel every stroke, every curl of his fingers hitting all the right spots.

“Shit, that feels incredible,” you breathed, your body arching into him as you fought to maintain control. But the pleasure was building quickly, spiraling higher and higher until you were lost in it.

Ben seemed to revel in the way you responded to him, his fingers working you expertly as he leaned down to press kisses along your inner thigh, teasing you mercilessly. Each brush of his lips sent shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body, and you knew you were dangerously close to the edge.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxed, his breath warm against your skin. “Let go for me.”

With every movement of his fingers, every kiss he pressed against your skin, you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter within you. “Ben,” you gasped, your hands clutching the sheets as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, threatening to pull you under.

“Yeah?” he murmured, the devilish grin on his face betraying his eagerness.

You met his gaze, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m so close.”

“Good,” he growled, picking up the pace, fingers moving faster, deeper. “I want to feel you come on my fingers.”

You barely had time to register his words before the tension snapped, pleasure exploding through you as you cried out his name. Your back arched, your entire body tightening around him as you let go, waves of bliss crashing over you.

“Fucking hell,” Ben breathed, his fingers still moving as you came down from your high, riding out the aftershocks of pleasure. He leaned down, pressing his lips against your inner thigh, his eyes glimmering with satisfaction as he watched you come undone.

When you finally opened your eyes again, he was smirking at you, his fingers glistening with your arousal. “You’re a fucking sight to behold, you know that?”

You chuckled breathlessly, still feeling the lingering effects of your climax. “Yeah? And you’re a cocky bastard.”

“Only because I know how to push your buttons,” he shot back, his voice low and teasing. He slid his fingers out of you, slowly, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your lips at the loss.

Ben’s smirk widened as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied look on his face. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

Your heart raced at the sight, a heat flooding your cheeks as you watched him. There was something primal in the way he moved, something raw and unrestrained that set your entire body alight with need.

“Now,” he said, leaning over you, his green eyes dark with lust. “I think it’s my turn to taste you.”

Before you could respond, he was lowering himself down your body, settling between your thighs. You gasped as he pressed a kiss to your core, his lips brushing against you with feather-light pressure before he buried his face deeper, licking you with a fierce hunger.

“Ben!” you gasped, your back arching again as pleasure shot through you, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible. He worked you with a skill that left you breathless, his tongue moving in expert strokes, teasing and tasting as he explored you.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmured against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine. He was relentless, his mouth moving expertly as he pushed you back toward the edge, building you up higher and higher until you were gasping for breath.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he worked you, the heat of his mouth combined with the pressure of his tongue sending you spiraling toward another climax. The pleasure was building again, a familiar tightness coiling within you, and you knew you were close.

“Ben,” you gasped, feeling your body start to tremble. “I’m—”

“Let go,” he urged, his voice low and commanding, and the combination of his words and the feeling of his mouth on you pushed you right over the edge. You cried out, your back arching as pleasure flooded through you, crashing over you in wave after wave.

“Fuck!” you shouted, your body trembling as you rode the waves of your climax, feeling his tongue work you through it, keeping you on the edge, keeping the pleasure coming.

As you finally came down from your high, gasping for breath, you felt Ben pulling back, his lips glistening, a satisfied grin on his face. “Told you I’d make you forget.”

You chuckled breathlessly, the sound a mixture of disbelief and pure, unfiltered satisfaction. “You weren’t kidding. That was…something else.”

He leaned back, looking at you with a glimmer of pride. “You liked it, huh?”

“Yeah, I liked it,” you admitted, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your body. “You’ve got some serious skills there, Soldier Boy.”

“Only the best for you, Psyke.” He winked, his voice teasing as he shifted closer again, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against him. “But now that I’ve gotten my taste, I want more.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at your lips. “More? You think you can handle it?”

“Oh, I can handle it,” he growled, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned in to capture your lips with his. The kiss was heated, a promise of what was to come, and you could feel the heat building again, a fire igniting between you that promised a long night ahead.

You melted against him, feeling the weight of his body pressing against yours, the heat radiating from him as you lost yourself in the kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the thrill of excitement course through you, and you knew that whatever came next, you were ready for it. You were ready to face the darkness together, to embrace the chaos and the heat, and to lose yourself in the wild, unrestrained moments that came with being together.

“Let’s see what else you’ve got,” you whispered against his lips, your voice filled with challenge.

Ben grinned, a wicked spark in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Oh, I’ve got plenty in store for you, don’t you worry. M’gonna make sure you come at least five times before the night’s over.”

The morning light filtered into the lobby of the hotel through the large glass windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The place was quiet at this early hour, with only a few scattered guests enjoying breakfast or scrolling through their phones. You sat in one of the plush armchairs, nursing a coffee and trying to shake off the remnants of last night’s haze. Your clothes were disheveled, a stark contrast to the elegant setting, but you were past caring about appearances.

As you took another sip of your coffee, you felt a sharp, familiar presence approaching. You looked up to see Marjorie, also known as Crimson Countess, storming toward you. Her usual air of polished elegance was replaced by a fierce, almost frenzied expression. Her tight red dress clung to her curves, and her high heels clicked loudly against the marble floor as she made her way over.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” Marjorie snapped as she reached you, her voice dripping with irritation. “I need to talk to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, casually setting your coffee down on the table beside you. “Oh, really? And here I thought I’d be able to enjoy my morning without a drama fest.”

Marjorie’s eyes flashed with anger, but she took a deep breath before speaking. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing with Ben, but this has to stop. You’re making things complicated.”

You took a moment to let that sink in, a smirk playing at your lips. “Complicated? How so?”

Her expression tightened further. “You’re screwing him, and it’s messing with our arrangement. We have a deal, and I don’t appreciate you undermining it.”

You chuckled, a harsh, almost mocking sound that made Marjorie’s face redden. “Oh, honey, don’t get your panties in a twist. Ben and I are just having a bit of fun. It’s not like we’re plotting world domination.”

“Fun?” Marjorie spat, her tone dripping with disdain. “You’re not just having fun. You’re disrupting things that are important to both of us.”

“Important to both of you?” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “I’m pretty sure Ben’s deal with you is just a glorified PR stunt. You know it, I know it, and deep down, he knows it too.”

Marjorie’s eyes widened in fury. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Ben and I have—”

“—A business arrangement,” you cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m well aware. I’ve seen the way you cling to him every time there’s a camera around. Pathetic.”

Marjorie’s jaw clenched. “Cling? You think I’m pathetic?”

“Damn right I do,” you replied, your tone icy. “You’re like a stage five clinger, always hanging around, making sure everyone sees how ‘happy’ you are. It’s sickening. Ben’s never been into the whole lovey-dovey crap, and you’re just there to play a part.”

Her face twisted in anger, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “You think you’re so much better? You’re just a temporary distraction. A little fling for Ben to amuse himself with.”

You stood up, meeting her gaze with a steely resolve. “And you’re a joke. You think you’re special because you’ve got a bit of fame and a PR relationship? Newsflash, Marjorie, you’re just another face in the crowd. Ben’s had enough of the fake crap, and he’s making that pretty damn clear.”

Before Marjorie could retort, Ben strolled into the lobby, looking every bit the part of a man who was used to getting his way. His black silk robe was slung casually over his shoulders, and he had that confident, almost arrogant swagger that you knew all too well. He looked between you and Marjorie with a knowing smirk.

“Everything alright here?” Ben’s voice was smooth, laced with a hint of amusement as he approached.

Marjorie’s eyes flashed with a mix of relief and annoyance as she turned to him. “Ben, you need to handle this. She’s—”

“—Handling it just fine,” you interrupted, your voice laced with a defiant edge. “Thanks for joining the party, Ben. Marjorie was just about to explain how she feels about our arrangement.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing at Marjorie with a curious expression. “Oh? And what’s the problem now?”

Marjorie’s frustration was palpable as she threw her hands up in exasperation. “She’s undermining our deal. I need you to make her stop.”

Ben’s grin widened, and he turned his full attention back to you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, sweetheart. But you know, I wouldn’t say no to a little more fun.”

Without warning, he reached out and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close. His hands were rough, assertive, and there was no mistaking the predatory gleam in his eyes. You barely had time to react before his lips were on yours, kissing you with a raw, hungry passion that left you breathless.

Marjorie’s eyes widened in shock as she watched the scene unfold, her mouth hanging open. She clearly hadn’t anticipated Ben’s reaction, and you could see the mix of jealousy and anger in her expression.

Ben’s hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips and pulling you tighter against him. His touch was commanding, and there was no subtlety in the way he maneuvered you, as if claiming you for his own. He broke the kiss only long enough to look over at Marjorie with a smirk.

“Looks like you’ve got some competition,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I’m not about to let her go.”

Marjorie’s face turned a deep shade of red, and she opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she glared at you with an expression that could have burned a hole through steel.

“You know what?” you said, your voice loud and unapologetic as Ben’s hands slipped down to give your ass a playful smack. “We’re literally just fucking every chance we get. I see no problems here.”

Ben’s grin grew wider as he continued his assault on your body, his hands exploring every curve with a possessive eagerness. “Damn right. And if Marjorie’s got an issue with that, well, that’s her problem.”

Marjorie’s face was a storm of emotions—anger, humiliation, and something like betrayal. She looked between you and Ben, her eyes filled with frustration. “You’re unbelievable, Ben. And you,” she snapped at you, “you’re nothing but a—”

Ben cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Save it, Marjorie. I’m done with this conversation.”

Marjorie’s mouth snapped shut, and she glared at Ben one last time before turning on her heel and storming out of the lobby, her high heels clicking angrily as she went. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her was almost a relief, and you let out a sigh of relief, leaning into Ben’s touch.

Ben’s hands were still on your ass, giving it another playful slap before he pulled you back against him. His lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was even more heated, full of unrestrained desire. You melted into it, your hands gripping his shoulders as you lost yourself in the moment.

When he finally pulled back, his green eyes were filled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement. “That was fun,” he said, his voice low and filled with a smugness that was impossible to miss.

You chuckled, still feeling the remnants of the kiss on your lips. “Yeah, you sure know how to make a point.”

Ben smirked, his hands still resting possessively on your hips. “Glad I could help. Now, how about we take this somewhere more private?”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Lead the way.”

As you followed him toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. Whatever else the day held, you knew it would be anything but boring. Ben’s presence was a wild card, and you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

The night was crisp, and the city lights sparkled like a sea of diamonds below. The limo's interior was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the backseat reading lights and the flicker of the occasional street lamp as it sped along. You and Ben—Soldier Boy, as he was known—had taken full advantage of the privacy the car afforded.

Ben adjusted his black tuxedo, smoothing down the front while you fixed your dress, the deep crimson fabric clinging in all the right places. You cast a glance at Ben, who had a satisfied smirk on his face. His green eyes glinted with mischief as he adjusted his bow tie, the only hint of the evening’s earlier activities evident in the disheveled state of his usually pristine hair.

“You know,” you said, smoothing down the fabric of your dress, “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’re quite the multitasker.”

Ben chuckled, his grin widening. “Oh? And how’s that?”

“Managing to get us both worked up and still looking like a million bucks.” You winked at him. “Impressive.”

“Just a skill set I’ve developed over the years,” Ben replied, adjusting his cufflinks. “But you’re looking pretty damn incredible yourself.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the pleased smile that spread across your face. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Soldier Boy.”

The limo pulled up to the entrance of the gala, the flashing lights of photographers and the murmur of the crowd growing louder as the vehicle came to a stop. The driver opened the door, and you stepped out, your heels clicking on the marble steps as you took in the opulence of the event.

The gala was a high-profile affair, hosted by one of the city’s elite charities. The grand entrance was adorned with gold-trimmed decorations, and a red carpet led to the entrance, where a steady stream of well-dressed guests were being greeted with champagne and smiles. You took Ben’s arm as you approached, the two of you looking every bit the glamorous couple you were pretending to be.

As you entered the ballroom, the grandeur of the venue hit you. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the elegant tables set with fine china and polished silverware. The guests were mingling, their laughter and conversation creating a lively, sophisticated buzz.

You and Ben made quite the entrance, heads turning as the two of you walked in together. It wasn’t long before you noticed a few curious glances and whispered conversations. You had always been used to attracting attention, but tonight it felt particularly charged, thanks to the way you and Ben had spent the ride over.

You turned to Ben with a sly grin. “Ready to make this night interesting?”

Ben’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “Oh, I’m more than ready.”

As you made your way to the bar, you could feel the weight of several gazes on you. Ben seemed to enjoy the attention, his confidence practically radiating off him. You could sense a playful competitiveness between you and him, each of you trying to outdo the other with quips and subtle touches.

At the bar, you ordered a champagne and turned to Ben. “I see you’re still sporting that smirk. You think you can keep it up all night?”

Ben chuckled, his voice low and teasing. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

A couple approached you—an elegantly dressed man and a woman in a stunning blue gown. They smiled politely, clearly eager to make your acquaintance.

“Good evening,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Richard, and this is my wife, Emily. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You shook Richard’s hand with a firm grip, then turned to Emily. “Nice to meet you. I’m Psyke, and this is Soldier Boy.”

Emily’s eyes widened slightly at the name, but she quickly recovered with a polite smile. “Oh, I’ve heard quite a bit about both of you. This must be quite the evening for you.”

Ben leaned in slightly, his voice smooth and confident. “Well, we do try to make things interesting.”

Emily chuckled, her gaze flicking between you and Ben. “I can see that. You both seem to be quite the pair.”

Richard nodded, clearly intrigued. “So, what brings you to the gala tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow, giving Ben a sidelong glance. “Well, let’s just say we’re here to enjoy ourselves and maybe shake things up a bit.”

Ben’s grin widened, and he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Psyke here likes to keep things lively. Keeps me on my toes.”

Emily laughed, clearly charmed by the banter. “Well, it sounds like you’re both having a good time.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you said, giving Ben a playful nudge. “We’ve been having a lot of fun lately.”

The conversation continued, but you and Ben kept finding ways to tease each other, exchanging smirks and subtle touches. It was clear to everyone watching that there was more to your relationship than just a shared evening at a gala.

At one point, you caught Ben’s hand sliding down to give your ass a quick squeeze as you chatted with another guest. You raised an eyebrow and shot him a look that promised retribution later.

“Careful,” you warned in a low voice. “Or I might just have to show you who’s really in charge.”

Ben’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Looking forward to it.”

As the night wore on, you and Ben continued to mingle with the other guests, your playful teasing never missing a beat. At one point, Ben even attempted to dance with you, though his moves were decidedly more suggestive than graceful. You found yourself laughing and trying to keep up, the entire scene feeling more like a private joke between the two of you than a formal event.

A particularly snooty woman approached, her eyes narrowing as she took in Ben’s casual demeanor and your playful interactions. “I’m surprised to see you here, Soldier Boy,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension. “And with Psyke, no less.”

Ben’s grin didn’t falter as he gave her a once-over. “Surprised? Well, I do like to keep people on their toes.”

The woman’s lips thinned, clearly unamused by Ben’s response. “I hope you’re not disrupting the event with your...antics.”

You stepped in, leaning close to the woman with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re just here to have a good time. If that’s too much for you, maybe you should have stayed home.”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock, and she quickly retreated, her face a mask of indignation. You and Ben exchanged a triumphant look, both of you clearly enjoying the minor scandal you’d caused.

As the evening continued, the two of you couldn’t resist finding more ways to push each other’s buttons. At one point, Ben leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “You know, I’ve been thinking about our little ‘discussion’ earlier.”

You turned to him, a playful smile on your lips. “Oh? And what are you thinking?”

“Maybe it’s time I showed you just how much I appreciate your company,” Ben said, his voice low and suggestive.

Before you could respond, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, his hands finding their way to your ass once again. You squealed in surprise as he gave you a quick, playful squeeze, earning a few curious glances from nearby guests.

“Oh, really?” you said, trying to sound shocked. “In the middle of a gala?”

Ben’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Why not? We’re here to make an impression.”

You laughed, unable to resist his playful demeanor. “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll just have to keep you on your toes, too.”

The rest of the night passed in a whirlwind of laughter, playful banter, and more than a few surprised looks from other guests. You and Ben continued to push each other’s buttons, reveling in the way you could make even the most formal of events feel like your own personal playground.

As the evening drew to a close, you found yourselves back in the limo, the car’s interior a stark contrast to the glitz and glamour of the gala. Ben leaned back, his eyes still gleaming with satisfaction.

“Not a bad night,” he said, stretching his legs out with a contented sigh.

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, leaning back against him with a relaxed smile. “You sure know how to keep things interesting.”

Ben’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm and reassuring. “Well, I do try. But I think I’m ready for the next round of fun.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh? And what do you have in mind?”

Ben’s grin was pure mischief. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

NOW:

You came to on the cold, hard floor of Hughie’s kitchen. The tile felt like ice against your cheek, and you tried to push yourself up but found your limbs unresponsive. A dull ache throbbed in your head, and the world spun around you in a dizzying blur. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the shapes of the kitchen appliances and the scattered mess of Hughie’s apartment.

Through the haze, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. They grew louder, more distinct, and you could faintly make out Hughie’s concerned voice.

“Jesus, what the hell?” Hughie’s voice was tinged with panic. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You tried to speak, but the words came out as a mumbled mess, barely audible. Your mouth felt dry, and the effort to communicate left you feeling even more disoriented.

Hughie’s footsteps grew closer, and a moment later, you felt his hands gently lifting you from the floor. “Hang on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Before Hughie could do much more, another set of footsteps pounded into the kitchen. Ben burst through the door, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. His face went from confusion to fury in an instant.

“What the fuck happened?” Ben’s voice roared through the room, filled with an edge of panic. “Why the hell is she on the goddamn floor?”

Hughie looked sheepish, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I—I found her like this. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he approached, his anger palpable. “You found her like this? How the fuck long ago?”

“Just a few minutes,” Hughie stammered. “I was in the other room and—”

“—Jesus Christ,” Ben cut him off, his voice low and dangerously sharp. “You had her on the floor for more than a few minutes? What the hell kind of shit show is this?”

Without waiting for an answer, Ben knelt beside you. His rough hands were surprisingly gentle as he helped you onto your back. You were barely aware of what was happening, your head spinning and your limbs feeling like lead.

“Hey, stay with me,” Ben said, his voice a harsh whisper but filled with concern. “Can you hear me?”

You tried to nod, but the motion made your head spin even more. You blinked slowly, trying to focus on his face, which hovered above you like a shadowy figure.

Ben’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression was still a mixture of anger and worry. “Jesus, you’re out of it. What the hell did you take?”

“I… don’t know,” you managed to croak out, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… can’t remember.”

“Of course you can’t,” Ben muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Alright, we’re not calling the fucking hospital. Not yet. We’ll deal with this ourselves.”

He glanced over at Hughie. “Get some fucking pillows or something. We need to get her off the floor and make sure she’s okay.”

Hughie scrambled to follow Ben’s instructions, rushing to fetch a few cushions from the couch and placing them under your legs. Ben moved with a rough efficiency, lifting you and maneuvering you onto the sofa with surprising care. He propped your legs up with the pillows, making sure you were as comfortable as possible given the circumstances.

As you lay there, trying to steady your breathing, Ben hovered nearby, his face a mask of intense focus mixed with frustration. He looked at Hughie, who was standing awkwardly by the counter, clearly feeling out of his depth.

“Alright,” Ben said, his voice still sharp but less panicked. “What the fuck happened here, Hughie? Did she just fall or something?”

Hughie shook his head, clearly rattled. “I don’t know. I came in and found her like this. She was just lying there.”

Ben let out a frustrated sigh, turning back to you. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s high as balls and you didn’t even think to call for help?”

You tried to focus on Ben’s face, his green eyes piercing through your disorientation. “High?” you mumbled, confusion evident in your voice. “I don’t… remember.”

Ben’s gaze softened just a bit, though his tone remained gruff. “Yeah, well, whatever the hell you took, it’s fucking you up pretty good. You need to stay awake, alright? Don’t go drifting off on me.”

You tried to respond, but your head was swimming, and the effort only seemed to make things worse. Ben’s frustration was evident, but there was a thread of genuine concern in his voice.

“You’re going to be fine,” Ben said, his tone a mix of roughness and reassurance. “We just need to ride this out and figure out what the hell happened.”

He looked at Hughie again. “Make yourself useful. Get us some water and maybe something to eat. If she’s been out of it for a while, she’s going to need to rehydrate and get some energy back.”

Hughie nodded quickly, darting off to the kitchen. Ben’s attention turned back to you as he settled into a nearby chair, his gaze never leaving your face.

“So, this is how you decide to spend your day?” Ben said, his voice gruff but tinged with a wry edge. “Lying on the floor, all out of it. Fucking great way to spend an evening.”

You tried to muster a weak smile, but the effort left you feeling even dizzier. “Sorry… didn’t mean to…”

Ben cut you off, his expression softening slightly despite the rough edge in his voice. “Don’t apologize. Just focus on staying awake. We’ve got this covered.”

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read what was left of your consciousness. “And for the record, if you’re going to get yourself fucked up, at least do it somewhere I don’t have to clean up after.”

You managed a feeble chuckle, which only made your head spin more. “Noted.”

Hughie returned with a glass of water and a small plate of crackers. He set them down on the coffee table in front of you, looking more than a little relieved to have something to do. “Here you go. Try to drink some of this.”

You struggled to sit up slightly, your hands trembling as you reached for the water. Ben moved closer, his hand steadying yours as you took a few sips.

“Slowly,” he instructed. “Don’t rush it.”

You nodded weakly, your throat feeling like sandpaper as you drank. The water helped a little, though it didn’t completely clear the fog in your head.

“Better?” Ben asked, his voice still gruff but with a hint of concern.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, though the word came out as more of a slur. “Just… dizzy.”

Ben sighed, his expression a mixture of frustration and empathy. “We’ll get you through this. Just hang tight.”

Hughie watched from the sidelines, clearly feeling out of his depth. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Ben shot him a look that was both appreciative and impatient. “Just keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t slip back out. I’ll figure out what the hell we’re dealing with.”

Hughie nodded and took a seat across the room, his gaze occasionally flicking toward you with concern. You tried to focus on the voices around you, the conversations blending into a background noise as you fought to keep yourself awake.

Ben stayed close, his presence a reassuring constant in the midst of the confusion. He occasionally checked your pulse, his movements deliberate and precise, and though his words were rough, there was an undeniable care in his actions.

As time passed, the disorientation began to fade slowly. You could feel the room starting to come back into focus, and the nausea receded somewhat. Ben’s gruff comments and occasional jokes about your state made the whole situation seem almost surreal, adding a touch of humor to the otherwise unsettling experience.

“So,” Ben said after a while, his tone more conversational, “what exactly did you get into, anyway? You got some sort of new drug or something?”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog from your mind. “I… I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

Ben gave a skeptical look but didn’t press the issue further. “Alright, well, let’s just get through this and figure it out. In the meantime, just try to relax and stay with us.”

You managed a faint smile, feeling a bit more lucid as the minutes went by. Ben’s rough demeanor had its own charm, and though his swearing and brusque attitude were far from comforting, there was a sense of reliability in his presence.

“Thanks,” you said softly, the words coming more easily now. “For… helping.”

Ben’s expression softened slightly, though his voice remained gruff. “Don’t mention it. Just try not to make a habit of this, alright?”

You nodded, feeling a bit better with each passing moment. Hughie continued to keep watch, his concern evident but his actions hesitant. Ben’s constant vigilance and occasional snide remarks kept you grounded, providing a steadying influence as you slowly regained your strength.

The night wore on, and as the initial haze of disorientation cleared, you felt yourself growing more coherent. Ben’s rough charm and Hughie’s well-meaning but somewhat awkward attempts to help created an oddly comforting atmosphere, despite the chaos.

Eventually, as you started to feel more like yourself, Ben leaned back in his chair, his expression a mixture of relief

and exasperation. “Well, you’re not exactly back to normal, but at least you’re not out cold on the floor anymore.”

You gave him a weak smile, appreciating the effort even if his methods were a bit unconventional. “I’ll take it.”

Ben nodded, his gaze shifting to Hughie. “Alright, I think we’re good here. Just keep an eye on her and let me know if anything changes.”

Hughie nodded, looking more relieved. “Will do. Thanks for—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben interrupted, standing up and stretching. “Just don’t fuck it up again.”

As Ben headed for the door, he threw a final glance back at you. “And for the record, if you’re going to get yourself fucked up, at least make sure it’s something worth the trouble.”

With that, he was gone, leaving you and Hughie in the quiet of the apartment. The disorientation was mostly gone now, and you felt more like yourself, though still a bit shaky.

Hughie moved closer, offering a reassuring smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you said, your voice stronger now. “Thanks for—”

“Don’t mention it,” Hughie said quickly, though there was genuine relief in his eyes. “Just glad you’re okay.”

You nodded, grateful for his concern even if his presence had felt a bit like a secondary player in the drama. Then you frowned. “Cocksucker.”

“Yeah?” Hughie instantly answered, perking up a little, making you inwardly laugh at the fact that he actually responded to that.

“I didn’t take anything that strong.” You frowned, rubbing your forehead. If so, what the fuck did that?”

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[empyrean-thrones]

The story of a woman with a physical disability being a dragon riding hero was such a compelling idea to me and I love that idea so much, but I think a lot of Rebecca’s writing choices in the Empyrean series when it comes to the PoC characters are so thoughtless and racist this story is just kind of awful in so many ways.

Xaden, a MoC MMC being perceived as uniquely ruthless in the quadrant and never experiencing love before the white FMC chose him and Xaden being so desperate to save her that he is the one out of the two of them that becomes an evil wizard? The FMC’s mother scarring his back? Horrific storylines. Xaden’s story is depressing and in a lot of ways demoralizing and the way Rebecca writes him makes me nervous. I could see his character arc taking him to the “dark side” and I hope Rebecca handles his story tactfully. I know this is a love story, but I don’t want Violet to “save” his soul from corruption. I do not care if it ruins the female power fantasy, Xaden being depicted as emotionally and mentally helpless and dependent on the white FMC is not a feel-good romantic story, it is awful. I hope and I want it to be clear by the end of the series that Xaden is good natured and strong with or without Violet’s influence, I want him to save himself in the emotional/spiritual sense. Wouldn’t mind if Violet saved him from physical threats.

Also, Rhiannon, the bisexual Black woman that becomes the “best friend” hardly gets a storyline of her own and is depicted as a tough girl that does not have a committed lover and it is just so fucking tiring. I liked some of her conversations with Violet in part one of Iron Flame, when she was figuring out that something strange was going on at Basgiath. But Rebecca hardly ever does anything interesting with her character, Rhiannon wasn’t really given an emotional character arc. Violet lies to Rhiannon for months and Rhiannon seemingly gets over it pretty fast and shows mild annoyance and stays very loyal to Violet. Rhiannon could have saved Violet from Varrish or she could have helped Xaden save her from Varrish, she could have been pulled into the emotional storylines some more. It definitely feels like she gets sidelined from the story even though she is Violet’s “best friend”.

I’m so glad you feel the same way about the depiction of PoC in this series.

My thoughts on Xaden are… mixed, to say the least.

He’s the son of a noble duke who disgraced and deemed insane by the public for trying to do what’s right and faces the burden of carrying the weight of hundreds on his shoulders. If either of them step out of line, everything he’s worked for will be destroyed and he’d suffer the same demise as his father. No one trusts him and everyone paints him in a bad light because of this. His worst nightmare comes in the form of the daughter of the woman responsible for almost every awful thing in his life being permanently chained to his soul; so not only does he have to aid the secret revolution without getting caught and make sure none of people are getting killed/doing some stupid shit that’ll put a target on their back, he also has to deal with the knowledge that Violet will inevitably get roped into this mess and further complicate things.

And on paper, I’d eat this shit up. This is the kind of character that I’d be rotating in my head for months. But instead of this guy with a ton of trust issues and deep desire to help others so they don’t go through the same thing he did, while also being so laser focused on the end goal, he’s either unaware or unwilling to see the collateral damage he causes.

Instead, I got some quick witted snarky dude with shadow powers who has a hair kink, low key sucks at flirting, and is just like… a dick to people sometimes? I understand that his trauma keeps him from communicating in a healthy manner with Violet in Iron Flame but the things he does to her in that book might be borderline gaslighting at some points.

The thing that really turned me off this character was the part where he threatened to withdrawal his support for Poromiel and leave them to die because a random gryphon flier (who might not have known who he was) attacked him at an outpost. He even goes so far as to say that “if you’re asking if I’d rather your people die than mine, then obviously my answer is yes.” It made me wonder if he was so quick to threaten their entire country with death, why does he bother helping them? What are his true intentions? What’s his end goal? Cuz right now, it just feels like he’s doing this for brownie points.

When it comes to ruthless characters, I’m reminded of this quote from Animorphs:

"People don't understand the word ruthless. They think it means 'mean.' It's not about being mean. It's about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It's about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it."

— Marco, Book #30: The Reunion

There are a lot of good lines in this series but this one stuck with me the most for some reason. Whenever I think of Xaden, I think of whether his actions apply to Marco’s definition of the word. Can he see that bright, clear line or was his final act in IF just an impulse decision?

When the characters call him ruthless, I think they really just mean cruel. What makes this fact uncomfortable for me is that it’s not just Navarrian bootlickers calling him that. The Marked Ones even joke about it during their meeting under the tree at night. Cat says he’s incapable of love which… yikes. Violet thinks this:

“And it’s not just his body. It’s… everything. Even the darkest parts of him, the parts I know are merciless, willing to annihilate anyone and everyone who stands between him and a goal, pull me in like a moth to a fucking flame.”

Girl, can you name one positive aspect about his character that you like? Cuz if not, it’s giving “small pacifist white girl falls for large aggressive black man”.

And I agree with you on his status as a venin. I don’t think it’s up to Violet to “save” him. Yarros said she wanted the whole venin thing to be about the struggle for power and how much is too much power. I think Xaden could’ve worked as one of them if he hadn’t been a wingleader at the start and was given special privileges because people were too scared of him. If he was reduced to nothing in Navarrian society and drew from the earth as a last ditch effort to save his people, then I wouldn’t be so harsh. Maybe if the venin had more nuance than just “we love killing people,” I’d be more open to introducing them as this new threat but for now, they just seem uninteresting to me.

But yes, Xaden needs to be the one to save himself spiritually/emotionally. Just like how you can’t force a drug addict into therapy, Violet can’t force a cure onto him. He needs to realize that he’s the problem and needs to seek rehab. There can be moments where he relapses but that shouldn’t deter him from becoming a better person.

And then there’s Rhiannon.

My sweet, beautiful Rhiannon.

She is what I call the three B’s of tokenism in media: black bisexual bestie. She sleeps around with everyone but never has a proper romance arc of her own. She doesn’t have an arc where she drags her sister into the Revolution or anything. All she is is Violet’s cheerleader who inserts herself into the Cat situation despite having nothing to do with it.

I really believed we’d get some growth from her in IF since she was starting to get some conflict with Violet over the secrets she was hiding. I thought we'd be getting something GOOD. And then Violet revealed everything to them and Rhi was just like, "I'm not mad, just disappointed." I was absolutely livid when I read that part.

We don’t even get a scene where she and Violet do some sleuthing to figure out what the fuck is going on in the healer’s quadrant because our stupid MC keeps trying to gaslight her into thinking everything’s fine. She doesn’t challenge Violet in any significant way after part 1. If Yarros does nothing with her in Onyx Storm, I’m gonna be so pissed.

And don’t even get me started on how she’s only the only character who’s dragon is named after an emotion (not even a positive one at that). Why did she name the WoC’s dragon ANGER???

[bsnotoneaskedfor]

Tired MK

Before you judge, hear me out.

MK goes through SO much shit because of his "Monkey Kid" status. Like, a ton. As someone who is a teen and struggles with mental health it is so obvious that MK has been spiraling since day one. The poor dude is going to die of anxiety and depression before the Lady Bone Bitch tries to order a smackdown with a side of trauma. MK is also a people pleaser. He legit is always trying to live up to people's standards and be "just like Monkey King".

Here's the thing: I also suffer from trying to please everyone and let me tell you that shit is exhausting. Fuck magic, the thing that really makes this show fiction is that MK hasn't had a massive mental breakdown. He's had baby ones, that are still valid, but he's pushed them aside because "he has to be the hero". He never really shows signs of emotional distress besides the show poking fun at it or using it for plot. For those in the comments, please don't try to psychoanalyze the show to prove me wrong. This is just what I have seen. So, with this being said, there is something I really would love to see and have adopted it as my personal headcannon.

MK being done with everyone's shit.

Not, "MK's tired", or "MK's sassy ;D", or even Mk going through an emo phase.

I want absolutely 100% done MK.

I want to see him surviving on coffee or energy drinks because the weight of everyone's expectations keeps him up at night. I want him mad when people start blaming him/looking to him for answers because "he's the Monkey Kid". I want him done with Wukong's bullshit. I want my realistic representation of burnout and mental illness. I want to see him trying to get better and no longer caring about calling people out for being toxic.

I don't know if I'm 100% explaining this right because words are really hard so here are some examples of what I see my MK head cannon as.

(This one's based off that one TikTok audio where the guy yells at the cats to get off the couch)

MK: *Sitting peacefully, attempting to do homework or some other quiet activity*

Macaque and Wukong : *fighting like feral cats*

MK: (almost roars it) STOP IT!

Macaque and Wukong : *is startled and a little afraid*

MK : LEARN TO FUCKING GET ALONG OR SO HELP ME I'LL TEST THE LIMITS OF YOUR IMMORTALITY

Macaque and Wukong : *obeying, nearly about to piss themselves out of fear*

MK: *Deep Breath. Goes back to what he was doing*

Every Demon Within 50 miles : wtf was that?

--- -------------------------------------------------------------------------

MK: *chugging a coffee or energy drink*

Some Demon: *starts destroying the city*

MK : Dammit *Chugs faster. *

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wukong: Hey bud! When's the last time that you've slept?

MK: *completely deadpan* It is finals week.

Wukong : That doesn't answer-

MK:*getting angrier* I have to defend the city every damn day. I have to deal with your messes, including you. I train every day for at least 4 hours even when we don't meet up. I WORK FULL TIME AT THE GODDAMN NOODLE SHOP AND THEN I HAVE TO FUCKING STUDY FOR COLLEGE. WHEN IN THE NAME OF BUHDDA WOULD I BE ABLE TO SLEEP?!?!

Wukong : *sweats* So I see that you're stressed-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Team Monkey : Why didn't you use [ insert power] to start with?!

MK: *sarcastic* I'm sorry. I thought we all deserved a nice bonding trip where we spent the entire time bickering and getting the shit beaten out of us. Was that supposed to be next week?!?

Team Monkey : . . .

MK: How about you guys make a list of everything I can do. That way, next time, we can just all look at it together and none of you blame me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Red Son : * trying to pick a fight and just being a dick in general*

MK: *Not having it* Do not make me duct tape you down so I can embroider your worst nightmares onto your skin, you pompous little fuck!

Red Son : . . .wtf

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Red Son : *Is pretty*

MK: *deep sigh of disappointment* I need therapy . . .

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mei : * Gets the Samhadi Fire*

MK: *remembering all the shit and expectations he went through once he got his powers*

Mei: *About to have a breakdown*

MK: *laughs* Have fun

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Red Son: *breaks in at the middle of the night in an attempt to capture MK*

MK: *is awake because insomnia* So, do you , like, want some tea . . .?

May do a Pt 2

[wiiildflowerrr]

5 takeaways from Ashton Irwin of 5SOS’ Artist Friendly interview

Alternative Press Magazine, 26 July 2023

'...Ahead of 5 Seconds of Summer’s massive world tour, drummer Ashton Irwin stopped by Joel Madden’s Artist Friendly podcast. The pair cover a ton of ground during their hour-and-a-half discussion, exploring lessons learned from touring with One Direction, the secret to ensuring a killer live show, and their respective evolution. Madden and Irwin also bond over coming from small towns, with the 5SOS member sharing that Luke Hemmings’ mother was his math teacher at one point — far before they ever met and formed the band. 

Before you start listening to the new episode, we rounded up takeaways from their conversation. Check them out below...'

'...5SOS were “mind-blown” when they toured with One Direction

A decade ago, One Direction were at the peak of their powers, and 5SOS were invited to join them on the road. For the Aussie outfit, every night became an opportunity to soak up lessons from one of the biggest bands in the world. “They had this killer band behind them,” Irwin gushes. “Even just learning how to harmonize while we were on tour with those guys. They were a dialed unit. If you ever saw the Take Me Home tour, we were mind-blown by the way they sounded through a PA. It was an unbelievable opportunity.” Because of that run, Irwin says 5SOS “became a better band.”

Spiritualism improved his outlook on life

Irwin calls himself more spiritual than religious, saying that “nothing’s good or bad.” To get there, though, he needed to grasp that suffering is a considerable part of existence. “[It] makes being in a band even more special because it does relieve a lot of suffering,” Irwin says. “It’s this energetic engine that you can cathartically push your traumas through. It’s a vehicle to express.” He became spiritual when he was triggered and angry about everything — and needed answers. “I kept messing up my relationships by not having that unconditional thing that comes through when you start to realize that kindness is worth it, and that’s how you heal things; that it’s better to be forgiving than begrudging,” he explains.

Irwin knew music would save him

Throughout the episode, Irwin and Madden share a lot of wisdom. “I’ve been on my path since I was young, and I knew music would save me,” he mentions. Early on, though, the 5SOS drummer explains that he’s always been “ready for anything” because he doesn’t count on his career lasting forever, but he can still have a long life in the industry. “The musical application and mastery and sticking to that path keep you safe from the stuff that doesn’t matter. Keep looking after your skill and sharpening your skill because it can’t just be ripped away from you like a lot of things. That’s how you create longevity,” Irwin says.

His relationship with Calum Hood is “indestructible”

The secret to improving your live show is bettering the rhythm section — it’s the motor of any band. That’s why bassist Calum Hood and Irwin are connected in a way that transcends emotions. “We’re full-blown telekinesis. [We] barely have conversations,” he tells Madden. After spending years together onstage, he knows his bandmate on a deep level (and pays him some hefty compliments, calling him “deep and sensitive [and] an epic problem-solver”). “We have our own language, which is why our relationship is slightly indestructible,” Irwin says. “It isn’t based on any external human shit. It’s a flow state that we get in together that’s wordless.” 

5SOS have evolved over time

During the episode, Irwin is a realist. Understandably, the band put each other first in their early days but split off to experience their own lives over time. That makes their willingness to be in the band all the more special and significant. “Sometimes I wish we were still a band that could just live in a house together and make music every day,” he says. “But it’s back there. Everyone wants to live their life. It’s not so connected in that way anymore, but we still all make that effort to come together.” In fact, branching out and collaborating with other artists made Irwin realize that he has a unique relationship with the band that has “flourished from [their] youth and innocence and [their] sponge brain.”...'

[system-of-a-feather]

Less moody about it cause - actually no equally moody but less bothered by it if that makes sense - but as much as I am glad to be working through the gender stuff with the system, or rather for the system until now, finding out just how deep this rabbit hole of misery goes fucking sucks and is literally draining as shit.

I think I'm getting fatigued cause I've been bearing it on my own for what, like three years? Solely to give Riku the time to focus and catch up on healing sexual trauma (which I've been responsible for monitoring and guiding them through) and so that Ray - who is our stability backbone - didn't have to endure or risk his stability for longer than needed when little could be done (cite Riku's sexual trauma being a blocking point for any genuine deep thought on gender at the time)

Like, in hindsight, and Riku pointed this out the other day, but in a polyfragmented system that is majorily transmasc, I'm the only part that has actively stayed focus on this and have kept a very intense tab and focus on it while juggling being the ferryman for Riku's sexual trauma recovery, the advocate for EPs for like a year and a half of that time, and the Persecutor Breaking-In Guy like

It's totally fair for me to "start getting burnt out" and if anything its really impressive that I am only NOW getting burnt out being the only one dealing with a topic that regularly makes me suicidal (not active but not passive either, a secret third thing - active but absolutely not doing it)

And honestly though, having dealt with that and been the ferryman through trauma processing of CSA shit for like 3 years and forcing persecutors to communicate their trauma and issues effecticely to help them, I REALLY don't get why anyone would think someone would CHOOSE to be trans or that it is anything but a group of people just trying to live life with a fucking shitty hand

Like I'm sure others would disagree, but as someone with a lot of trauma thats carried less experienced trauma holders through living inspite of what happened to them, dysphoria is literally the only mental / psychological / physical means of suffering that has ever had me **depressed properly** rather than any form of depression or hurt that immediately turns into a burning fire and rage of some sort

Literally raising myself, being a trained dog, regularly handing my dad his own ass on a plate in fights, dealing with an oppressive DID system, fucking America existing, first hand and second hand shit with sexual trauma, betrayal from the person who was supposedly our "only support" - literally dysphoria is the top dog of a beast I have ever had to push through

And the fact that some people minimize how much people with dysphoria could be struggling? It just blows me the fuck away

If you gave me the option to solve our dysphoria and all its complications in a snap or resolve our trauma and all its complications in a snap I would rapidly click dysphoria without hesitation and without consulting the system

Cause at this point I am the Trauma King. I'm the best at handling it and Im (at least one of) the best at dragging parts through Trauma Coping 101. And I'm also the dysphoria king, and as it is such a hypothetical situation would fall into my domain to make decisions on since I have the largest breath and experience with both

And it would be such an easy decision I kid you not.

But anyways, this is equally for the trauma / DID community as it is for the trans community. And for the transfolk out there, good god know your misery is valid and you arent being dramatic or asking for too much to have people respect you and make small changes to make your suffering slightly less

It shouldn't be needed, but if you need a socially normalized right to validate your hurt and need for aid, this post stands here as verification as a survivor of a shit ton of traumas that the suffering is absolutely, at the very least, comparable. If people can understand how bad it is to have to deal with PTSD let alone the shit thay gives you DID (diagnosed), there is at least one person out there that says dysphoria is more unbearable.

So what with all the American stages of transgenocide going on especially in America, I just wanted to let you know that they are the fucking atrocious people and whatever garbage transphobes say that might make you question your "choice" throw it in the fucking garbage.

Being trans isnt easy and wouldnt be anyones choice with how bullshit it can be

[scorbleeo]

Book Chat: God of Ruin

Legacy of Gods (Book 4) by Rina Kent

Source: Google Images

I’m out for revenge. After careful planning, I gave the man who messed with my family a taste of his own medicine. I thought it’d end there. It didn’t. Landon King is a genius artist, a posh rich boy, and my worst nightmare. He’s decided that I’m the new addition to his chess game. Too bad for him, I’m no pawn. If he hits, I hit back, twice as hard and with the same hostility. He says he’ll ruin me. Little does he know that ruination goes both ways.

Source: Goodreads (2023)

I'm Embarrassed

I really did not do God of Ruin justice. My only goal to reading this book was finishing it so I could get into the next book immediately. That being said, I entered the Rina Kent universe only for Brandon and Nikolai, so by default, only for God of Fury. Knowing that is the next book in the reading order, I was breezing through God of Ruin like it was unimportant. When I say I sped-read through this book, I truly meant it, I probably missed a ton of sentences and with that, some minute details.

Now, going on to the review, this is the first book in the Legacy of Gods series where I felt the first half was bad and it got better afterwards. Let me put it this way, I was bored through the first half which made speeding through it a lot easier than usual. Unlike many, I never hated Landon before God of Ruin but because of that, he was nothing fascinating here. He even annoyed me several times initially.

Thus, when his eventual and gradual character arc redemption arrived, I wasn't wow-ed by it. Just felt like it was something Kent had to write because all her characters must not be horrible at the end of the day, right? I know I sound bitter here but that's because God of Ruin really was very average.

The character arc redemption was one thing. But the trauma plot? So weak. Mia's entire character ever since she was 8 was due to the trauma she suffered but the resolution was not even half-assed, it was less than that. Why give Mia such a character, have plenty of pages to foreshadow and yet the final countdown was so pathetic? Personally, I think the biggest problem with the trauma plot was that Kent did not know when or how to foreshadow it through the book. This would have been such a kickass final countdown scene yet ultimately, it fell flat, so very flat.

One last thing, I am aware Kent might be having fatigue from writing stories in this universe now, which I completely get. Because not only do we have the same kind of characters in the same series (Killian, Creighton, Landon and since she's been hinting at it, Eli), her writing for God of Ruin was sloppy. I will just use one example: In Chapter 33, due to Mia's friendship with Jeremy, Landon said he will bump Jeremy up to the top of his shit list. You know who else who happened to be very different from Landon said a similar sentence? Nikolai, to Mia, about Brandon, earlier in this book.

I do want to justify Kent's sloppy writing to her fatigue for this world, and I will. Unfortunately, Kent's lines around all her characters are becoming muddled. Not only are so many of her characters similar, she's using very specific sayings for characters that should not have had those same kinds of sayings. This is not the first time I caught it but this series had multiple of this instances, I have had enough and need to point it out.

Despite this entire post being filled with complains, I like God of Ruin. I just think Kent should not have written them all one after another. Someone, or many, should have told her to take a break, write something else in between and clear her mind of this world for a while. Because back in her first series, all the guys and the ladies had such distinctive personalities yet in this series...

Rating: ★★★☆☆

More on the Legacy of Gods series here: God of Malice (#1) | God of Pain (#2) | God of Wrath (#3)

[mrmcribs]

Hey, nerd, guess who's here?

1, 3 Cassi, Athens, Serpa

4 Athens

7, 8 Mir! Rotary, Rotary

15 Rotary

17, 18 Cassi

thank you for the long ask, this isn’t satirical, I genuinely love having long asks

1, Best and Worst qualities, and Why

Cassi’s best quality is her durability and loyalty to the people close to her (sadly there’s only 1 person, and it’s exactly who you think it is)

Athens has the great person you can get along with, because they have the collective experiences of tons of people. Knowledge of different peoples lives and experiences gives him a big variety of lives to pull from

Serpa is completely and utterly devoted to their cause, which I guess is a good quality? I don’t have many “good” qualities for them

but A MAJORITY OF MY CHARACTERS have the quality of being COMPLETELY AMBIVALENT AND NOT CARING ABOUT LIVES, they have no real ties to “morals” and such, making them not the best friends you could have, really

3, What are their voices like?

Cassi has a voice like a beautiful singer, while having an American accent (I think American accents sound like how I think they sound, idk)

Athens’ voice varies a lot depending on their mood, varying from a very forced sounding happy voice or that of a smooth bartender, so really, idk

Serpa’s voice is somewhat sultry, sounding like a super villain, not leaning towards feminine or masculine. Though, occasionally, some of her words can sound a bit…. bitcrushed? Makes you wonder wether they’re using the tv head to speak or are doing it without a mouth.

4, Underlying motivations

Athens has only one thing he wants to do most in his probably unending existence and suffering, and that’s going to Venus. There is a reason why, but I refuse to tell you guys because it’s an inside joke that only i know :)

7, Greatest Insecurities

Mir!Rotary canNOT pick a fucking struggle, man. He’s an orphan who’s constantly worried or crying, and has like, 0 friends. It’d be difficult for me to find something he’s NOT insecure about. Meanwhile, Rotary’s only real struggle is with him feeling that him being around annoys people and they don’t want him around. Also, fun fact that is slightly refered to only once when he was first introduced during the Box mini battle, he went to Church and witnessed the Anti-Bostonian Preacher guy, which 100% gave him some sort of trauma

8, Coping Mechanism

Mir!Rotary: He doesn’t cope, why would you ask me this about him, have you fucking seen this child before?

Rotary copes through good ol’ cynicalism, the most marketable type of coping besides blowing all your money on useless shit. Sadly, this makes him 1% more similar to Rick from Rick and Morty, which makes me want to blow my/his brains out.

15, are they different from how they were as a child?

As I’ve kinda hinted towards at 8, Rotary was likely a normal young Christian child before he met THAT Priest and lost all of his faith in god. Ever since, Rotary barely acts as positive as he used to, I wouldn’t be surprised if occasionally you’d find him in bar smoking. He probably used his phones to sneak in tho, no bouncer would let this 4ft fucko in, and I’m willing to be he never got a license because he was too short to drive.

17, How many hours of sleep do they take?

Cassi, being a goddess, doesn’t NEED to sleep to live, but because of their habits, needs to sleep to be fully lucid(us). Saying that, I fully believe her sleeping periods either span from a quick nap, to a healthy rest, to a few days. Really depends how many things they do, but in an average basis, i’d give it…. 6 or so hours for her regular day, so a little under average.

18, where do they see themselves in 10 years?

For being a being that can go between universes and stuff, 10 years isn’t THAT long, so if you don’t mind me I’m putting an extra 0 on that shit.

Now, I truly and completely believe that given enough time, Cassi could be able to become the new God of the PEPN multiverse, but she’d have to take advantage of a few things. But in only 100 years, I’d see her actually having grown as a person, and being maybe a bit more compassionate and polite to an extent.

Also she’d have murdered everyone in Miraculum at least once, because as before mentioned, she holds grudges

————————————

Sorry it took a while to finish this, but I also loved doing this.

Thank you for the based ask, Edow, and remember!

none of you are safe

[akutahaha]

just angry ranting about the news in the furry community if you know you know, i didn't know the dude nor did i hear great things about him and stuff but it's how the healthcare system absolutely killed him and how the system doesnt care about helping but rather care about money, it's so triggering and upsetting

putting my angry ramblings below because blah trauma talk (a bit trauma dumping lol and being angry)

ive been ranting about this system for literal years i hate it so much they fuck over so many people just to squeeze out every bit of money out of them

seeing people go through shit like this is so triggering because it's what my family has to go through constantly because we are poor, because we are disabled, because we don't have insurance (or expensive ones they can get more money out of)

going through the very traumatic events of mom needing emergency brain surgery the hospital she was sent to kept shrugging her off, saying she's probably on drugs, and was not only rude as hell but wanted to instantly kick her out. if it wasnt for that ONE doctor with common sense to actually check her brain with a scan she would have been dead that same night.

but not only that the hospital they sent her to also ended up kicking her out literally right after her surgery with tubes and all still connected to her because we didnt have insurance, she should have not been sent home. she should have stayed there longer because for the month she was at home me and my father basically had to play doctor and take care of her, her tubes and other things she came home with, her tons of medicine that had to be given on the hour, EVERYTHING. this is ON TOP OF her not mentally being there because of the brain trauma and her having a literal piece of her skull missing that could easily have gotten infected or worse. (which would have been ANOTHER trip to the hospital)

and then on top of all this if we had not made donation posts and asked for help we would have been in debt and lose everything. we couldn't afford bills that were coming up, mom who was unable to do anything was literally the only one with a paying job and now that was gone. (still to this day im so fucking thankful for tumblr fandoms here and for you guys donating i am not exaggerating when i say that you guys literally saved my life and i will forever appreciate that)

the system also didnt do anything to help my grandmother but send her to her grave quicker when she fell and broke SEVERAL bones but instead of helping her they just let her lay there in her bed to suffer

i know people, especially abled body ppl will wanna celebrate and dunk on this but you guys have GOT to see the bigger picture in how fucking terrifying this is that the system does this to people. YOU ARE ALSO INCLUDED IN THIS. the system doesnt give a fuck about anyone all they see is money.

but also literally listen to us disabled and poor people when we talk about these things and point out how horrific this is. it's not "hehe evil person died uwu" it's "OPEN YOUR EYES THIS SYSTEM IS ACTIVELY KILLING PEOPLE" and it can and will kill people you are close to and love and care about, not just the evil people.

because of me being poor i literally live with the mindset of "if i die i die" because im fully aware that all it takes is one bad illness, one bad infection and i'm gone for good. being poor and disabled means living life knowing full well you are going to die and not get the help you need. is that depressing as hell? yeah. but thats the reality of our health system.

they do not care. they do not care about people or wanting to help. i havent been to a doctor in forever and im honestly terrified to because i know damn well they are gonna slap me with a bill that i will never be able to pay off.

[novadreii]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I'm so sorry you went through all of that with your ex. That sounded so hard, but you sound pretty resilient! Can I share my story here, I'm at such a loss and I'm in a relationship that sounds kind of similar. Very hot and cold. Used to think the world of me, now he hates my guts. I do struggle with anxiety and ocd and am on medication to help, but I stg he makes it a million times worse than it needs to be.

He's been treating me worse and worse in last 6 months (1.5 years together), but then I will get occasional flashes of the guy I fell in love with in the beginning and it's like I get freaking amnesia for all the shitty treatment (he mainly just straight up ignores me like I don't exist when I don't behave exactly the way he wants me to, stays out till 5am without any contact, likes pics of and follows Instagram models which I haaaateeee, etc). I just want the man I fell for back. I know I should probably leave but the thought of following through feels like dying. I really love him so much. Can I ask you to share any tips that made leaving easier? To get over your love for them? I am so miserable, but I'm scared leaving will be the wrong decision. Gahhh I'm sorry this is so long. I need help and have nobody I can really confide in :/.

Hello and hi! Of course you can share and I'd love to share what worked for me. My jaw was agape reading your ask because 90% of this sounds exactly like my ex. Specifically, the hot and cold treatment, the devaluation, lack of empathy and the silent treatment as a control strategy.

Believe me, I know how gut-wrenchingly painful someone you love who supposedly loves you ignoring your entire existence like you're a ghost they can't interact with is. To look in their eyes and see literally nothing there, to know they couldn't give a shit if you lived or died.

You can leave. And I really think you should. This kind of misery over time erodes your mental health, self-esteem, sense of self, and your physical health too. The longer you stay, the higher the cost.

Good news is, you are probably not as in love with this person as you think. Your subconscious knows it's not safe to love people who don't care about you, but you CAN absolutely become addicted to a person like they are a drug.

You are likely dating some kind of narcissist/sociopath/avoidant. Hard to tell, even with mine, but the telltale stonewalling/silent treatment, devaluation of things he used to love about you, and complete lack of empathy for your suffering points in those directions. They put on such a good fucking show in the beginning, I bet he love bombed the shit out of you and it's hard to resist such devout adoration. Believe me, I knowwwwww.

Look up trauma bonds on YouTube. There are tons of videos. The intermittent reinforcenent from the hot/cold behaviour keeps you addicted and coming back for more. You think if you can just shrink yourself down enough, you can bring him back. It's why leaving feels impossible even though you're not happy anymore. You have hope, and hope is normally a beautiful thing to have. But not when it comes to people who are emotionally immature and unavailable.

You need to cut this person off cold turkey, in my opinion. Move away, cut all contact, remove them and block them on everything. Yes, you need to detox from a person. It's the same principle as quitting cigarettes. Even a puff every now and again will keep you addicted.

This will feel like ass. A withdrawal for the ages. Your heart will feel so broken, but it WILL PASS. You have to keep that faith to get through. During this time the best thing to do is stay busy, lean on your support network, and take care of yourself.

The single most effective thing I did to get over him though was concentrate on all the negative things about him and our relationship. All the awful memories. The nights spent crying myself to sleep alone in our bed because he insisted we couldn't work on our relationship in the same home and took off to his fucking parents' house for 3 months lmao.

When I missed him, I would replay all the moments he ignored me, denied me closeness/communication, literally stared at me expressionless when I cried and begged for him to talk to me. I treated this like science (bc it is) and trained myself to associate him with only the pain he caused me, which was substantial. No good times, no positive traits. Bad times only.

I screenshotted any awful interactions I could find over text messages, and deleted literally everything else positive about our relationship that I could find on my phone, Discord and Tumblr. We had a little server that documented our relationship, I left it so I wouldn't be tempted to read over the good times. I left/sold whatever gifts he got me, or any reminders/memorabilia of us. It's like the CIA did a crime scene wipe of this man from my life.

The memories that remain are the awful ones only. Without reminders of the good, you'd be surprised at what you can forget with time. The good times and tender moments will fade. Sometimes they pop back in; send those memories some love & gratitude and move on.

Do not text or call him, this gives him power over you. He will think he can still treat you however the fuck he wants to if you hang around. He will not respect you. Whenever you miss him, replay the abuse, journal as if you're writing to him, but do not under any circumstances contact him. You must delete this person from your life in order to rebuild it.

People were trying to give me the same advice 6 months before we broke up, but I stubbornly clung on. I wasn't ready, I hadn't suffered enough yet. I really believed his bullshit, that he loved me and wanted to work on things, but his actions never once lined up with his words.

Once I realized that, it became apparent that the Good™ side of him I was hoping to see again, the man I fell for, was no longer there. Real or not, he was gone like the mfing wind and I was going to destroy my sanity trying so hard to get him back. He became a stranger to me.

So, I broke up with him, realizing that this would be my life for who knows how long if I didn't put my foot down. I genuinely couldn't do another second of it. He ignored my break up message too, LOL.

It took me a few weeks to confidently feel like I did not love him romantically anymore. He was wanting to be stay friends, hinting at getting back together one day, and at first I was so pathetically receptive. But one night a few weeks after the breakup I asked if we could clear the air so I could move past this and be able to be friends, and he fucking shut me down AGAIN. Again!!!! After everything he put me through. I felt so fucking dismissed, unheard, and embarrassed that I'd thrown my dignity on the floor for someone who proved time and time again he didn't give a fuck about my needs or wants.

This is when I understood that this is not love!!! Love does not only take. It is not concerned with ego or power or with satisfying one's own desires only. Love is empathy, it's having compassion and mercy. He had none of these things for me. He wanted to string me along for God knows how long so he could get his validation without doing any work. This was the moment I broke fucking free and never looked back. I saw and focused on his selfishness and cruelty, and disgust set in for me in place of love.

I'm so sorry friend. It feels like such a betrayal to have someone you love so deeply and who you feel genuinely loves you pull such a total switch up on you. It fucks with your head. But you will be okay, if you cut them out. No contact, no sex, no social media. I encourage therapy if you have access to it.

Someone who loves you for real will be unable treat you badly on a chronic ongoing basis. They won't be able to see you cry without gathering you into their arms. Your pain will feel unbearable to them. This man does not fucking love you my dear. I'm sorry, truly, but I wish I'd understood this for myself years before I did.

Tldr: trauma bonds, negative associations only, no contact, detox, self care and spending time with people who actually care about you so can contrast how it feels.

I hope everything works out. Let me know how it goes if you'd like, I know how fucking isolating this shit is and I'm here if you need. No presh tho.

[idiotwhotalkstoomuch]

Haha, yeah Ace would absolutely do that!

I prefer a demon slayer Yuu though simply because of the angst potential. Since being a demon slayer is really dangerous, the prefect would obviously have a shit ton of scars so imagine how everyone would react to seeing them? Like in the event that the prefect is supposed to become the next pillar of a breathing technique, they’d have to be super skilled and have to fight a ton of powerful demons to reach that point so that just makes the amount of scars they have even higher!

Also during an overblot, maybe they get severely injured due to the debris flying everywhere but instead of being phased, they’re like; Tis but a scratch! But everyone else is like; No it’s not!

And the dorm heads after overblotting! Like if the prefect gets badly injured every time it happens which leaves a scar and they’re already aware of the other scars, they’d feel really bad for hurting the prefect, because they’ve already been through so much they deserve a peaceful life! Being at NRC, for the most part, has clearly given them the chance to truly act their age where they can also receive the help they need to work through their trauma and then because of the overblot, things are taking a few steps back again! Of course the prefect is like; “It’s fine, I’ve faced worse!” But that honestly just makes all of them feel worse because damn.

Knowing all this, I bet Crowley and everyone else would be reluctant to send the prefect back to their world cause they don’t want to see their friend suffer more pain.

Everyone is frankly quite horrified at the amount of scars they have on their body and how some of them are near parts of their body that could very well be fatal

They are 16! They should be going out pulling pranks and getting on the teachers’ nerves or being a good student preparing for their future not fighting in battles that could very well kill them

Crowley confiscated their sword because it’s dangerous to have in school but luckily they didn’t get through all those battles and be able to be a candidate to become a pillar only relying on their sword, they can make do with what they get

Despite Deuce’s horror at MC’s situation he’s also pretty curious on just what pillars are and about the demon slayer corps in general though of course he always goes about the topic gently despite the fact it really doesn’t MC that uncomfortable (he wants them to focus on having fun! Not fighting with their life on the line)

Ace takes it upon himself to make sure you have loads of fun in NRC and his shenanigans with MC are actually given some slack when MC is shown to be genuinely enjoying themselves (though he still gets punished, boi you thought)

Jack wants to protect them but also respects their strength so becomes more of MC’s self preservation because they don’t need to run into battle! There are magic wielded though MC can’t really be stopped when the situation escalates

Riddle would feel terrible if he scarred or injured you in any way (which considering he fought with rose bushes, I BET HAPPENED) and want to make it up to MC but MC is just dismissive of it insisting it’s okay when it’s not. (He gets Trey to teach him how to make tarts properly and gifts them to MC who accepts it cause free food!)

Leona on the outside is dismissive of the whole thing cause big whoop the kid has scars, not his problem. Inside however he does feel a little bad though considering the nature of his power they likely didn’t get too injured especially since when faced with demon blood arts that can send you flying without you even seeing (Reference: Yahaba’s demon blood art. The partner of the Temari demon), Leona’s muscles really doesn’t intimidate them

Azul feels pretty shitty about trying to take away their home after learning that they were okay with it for the most part because they didn’t really need sleep much anyway (seriously when do demon slayers sleep, they train in the day and fight demons to sunset the next day, if you think you can stay up all night become a demon slayer, they are on another level) but ultimately settles for treating them to a free treat in the Mostro Lounge and is off. He doesn’t like getting personally involved

Jamil was worried about his plans in all honesty with the fact that MC could see through him and is surprised when they approach him post overblot like he didn’t deceive them and send them flying with Grim. When MC explains he doesn’t need to feel alone, he just feels bad and mends their Haori as an apology (since he saw Riddle and Azul already apologize with food)

Vil didn’t insist on MC working with them since they had recovering wounds and scars that could possibly be aggravated by his strict training but they laugh off the idea his training is strict cause compared to demon slaying training it’s a breeze. When he accidentally injures them in his overblot (since he you know, DESTROYED THE STADIUM) as an apology he does something gets a gift personalized to something MC would actually like (since he luckily has Rook to find out what MC likes) and gets them some potions to speed up their recovery

The students would openly protest if MC was going to be sent home. They shouldn’t have to go back to such a bleak world where death is staring them at the face! They can just stay here and be a teenager!

MC however would insist on coming home because they still have precious loved ones at their home world who they wish to protect and they can’t just live a normal life here while their comrades are likely off fighting demons and possibly even the upper moons and Muzan Kibutsuji something that the students would reluctantly have to accept.

Okay so I know you prefer demon slayer! MC but Demon! MC has plenty angst potential too! I mean with some exceptions, most demons didn’t exactly want to become one because the life of a demon is not an easy one

They would be close to Malleus as a demon since they can only come out when it’s night and Malleus and his centuries of wisdom could be an interesting conversation buddy to the immortal (from everything but the sun and wisteria) demon.

Demon! MC would be way more nonchalant about taking hits than a demon slayer! MC because hey! Their arm might’ve been blown off but it’s already regenerating and since none of the guys have sun powers or Nichirin blades, they can only be killed by being pushed into the sunlight (which no one is possibly an asshole enough to do when they saw what happened to them after Crowley dragged them off to get some sunlight cause “it’s good for them”).

Demons feel the pain of their injuries (ex: Nezuko wincing when her leg was blown off by the Temari demon and the Temari demon’s death) so them using themselves as a meat shield while practical makes the NRC students feel awful when they recall them remarking on cutting themselves the other day or some other passing comment of pain cause they can feel it but take every hit.

The Pomefiore students and Crewel night even volunteer to work on a potion that could get them some form of sun resistance after a near miss after an overblot attack where the sun got exposed to them and if it wasn’t for Adeuce tackling them and hiding them under their bodies they surely would’ve been nothing but ash but MC just laughs bitterly at the idea of sun resistance as it’s after all what “that man” desires most

With demon! Mc being sent home, demon! Mc might actually accept staying in Twisted Wonderland unless they’re someone like Tamayo who’s actively making something to work against Muzan though if they’re just a demon with humanity still in them trying to survive I imagine they would actually like to stay which would make a happy ending but still full of angst potential

[enderwoah]

ORIGINS SMP HEADCANONS (because i love them): SEASON TWO EDITION BAYBEEE

(this is really long ENJOY :gun:)

tommy

he is phil's son smile

phil's most recent son at least

he's got like one more somewhere

he picked this one up off the dangerous streets a few years ago and he's been sticking with phil ever since

his wings are small- not too small to fly, but they're untrained to the point where it would take a lot or work to get him off the ground

but at first, he didn't really seem to want to learn all that much?

(he has three scars on his face- all from trying to learn how to fly when he was younger)

(he gave up after the third one)

("if at first you don't succeed; try, try again" is his motto, and he tried all three times)

but!! phil and wilbur are very persuasive :) and now that he knows he can fly, he's not going to rest until he does

he's a little manipulative to get what he wants sometimes, but can you blame someone that lived on the street for so long?

he had to do that to survive! it's not his fault.

(it's a great excuse.)

he laughs like a kookaburra amen

he squawks when he gets scared

he chirps. he tries not to because it makes phil go absolutely bird-brained but he does sometimes and he hates it.

tubbo

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A B[GUNSHOTS]

god he is. so fucking annoying (/rp)

he simply does not know when to stop

he ignores social cues to see when someone is annoyed

(see: he can read social cues. he does read social cues. when you get annoyed that's when he starts being more annoying, because you're more likely to give him what he wants to get him to shut the fuck up.)

he loves talking to (at) people, especially people he doesn't really know that well

so he's trying to be friends with ranboo, but the absolute prick keeps trying to avoid any actual conversations, so that's not working

he buzzes when he gets excited-happy

his fingertips are completely blackened and horrendously sharp, functioning as ten individual stingers

they don't do any actual damage but he's working on that

techno

wither hybrid (??)

how can you be a wither hybrid?? nobody got down and dirty with the wither

he's an experiment

the reason we haven't seen him yet? he's staying away from the main area of the smp

he doesn't want to ruin its natural beauty with his withering effect, so he keeps to himself on the outskirts of the smp

which sucks

withers get health from killing things

he's not fully a wither, so he gets energy from being around people and sort of draining their life force a little bit

he feels terrible when he's with just one person because they are Literally his life support and it makes the person feel like shit

when he's with a big group of people its great!! he only has to take a little bit from everyone and its barely noticable!!

but then there's the wither part. so he has to stay away.

he's always tired

always exhausted

he's a farmer, so taking it from animals works, but god does he miss people

but he can only visit a few times and for very short

(he's afraid that one of these days he'll get so bad that the next time he sees someone he'll accidentally kill them)

(it already happened once. he's blessed that he's been forgiven, even made friends with by the victims, but he doubts he'll be able to pull that off again with no consequences like last time)

wilbur

phantlings are dead elytrians, and given that wilbur was phil's son...he's a phantling

he died in the late 50s and was a librarian when he was alive, so he's very possessive (ha) over all of his things

you should never ask to "borrow" anything from him, he will hound you about it until you give it back

it's best to just say that you want something from him to keep

even if youre going to give it back

just for your own peace of mind

phantlings can feel fear and get a genuine feeling of elation from scaring people

of course, sometimes its unwelcome (feeling large amounts of fear from someone they care about in a bad way just makes them pissed)

but for the most part, wilbur loves appearing in the corner of people's visions just to jumpscare them a few minutes later

all in good fun, of course!! it's just hilarious :)

being the lighthearted, fun guy he is, he's not particularly secretive about his method of death

"how did i die? well, it all started -- ended -- on november 16th, 1958!"

"i walked out of the library late, since i took the shift for my wife since she was feeling sick and i worked there anyways,"

"the streets were dark and only lit up by gaslamps...and out of an alley...appeared..........."

techno.

he didn't mean it. wilbur isn't at all mad at him (anymore)

he was starving. he didn't know that one touch would be enough to fully revitalize him...

and murder wilbur where he stood.

sneeg

has details on everyone on the server

you Cannot Hide Shit From Sneeg

its impossible

if you find of his any shittly little mouse holes then you're doomed

you find one and there are twenty more

he's under your floorboards while you're having your important discussion about trapping the nether roof

sucks to suck ig??

he seems to be the favourite of many, which is weird since he rarely goes out of his way to actually talk to many people

he's the only person that tubbo doesn't actively try to annoy (or maybe he just doesn't find tubbo's antics all that annoying)

he's the only person that ranboo stays around (or maybe he stays around ranboo- he and Phil seem to be the only ones not off-put by his slightly sadistic and whiny demeanour (not counting tubbo, who annoys him anyways)

phil seems to be more protective of him than he thinks is normal (he lets sneeg ride on his shoulder while travelling, so he doesn't really complain)

niki is completely protective over him (again, not complaining)

contrary to popular believe, he does not get high from sugar

if anything he gets

high-per

(get it)

(high-per)

(hyper)

he's literally just a nine-year old getting a sugar rush leave him alone

phil

take the normal "bird-brain" headcanons and multiply it by like sixty-four

and you've got origins phil

he can't see glass- or, rather, he can, but it doesn't register that 'hey, this is a solid surface i am going to slam into'

its very funny for everyone else but he's pretty sure he has permanent brain damage from the blunt force trauma

if there is ANYONE on the server who dares to chirp, bird or no, they must understand that they are signing away their privacy and giving phil the right to go absolutely bonkers over them momma bird style

(shoutout to tommy, wilbur, ranboo, and fundy for having to suffer through this)

"oh??? you don't have wings?? you don't have feathers?? omg?? then what's this im preening?? what do you mean im just braiding your hair?? nono this is preening smile"

god help you if you dare to have wings

poor tommy, wilbur, sneeg, and tubbo

phil can't help himself alright

do you think he wants to be any sort of protective over sneegsnag?

no!! but he cant stop himself!! sneeg might damage his wings if he keeps flying those super long distances!!! nnnno! carry the bug man!!!

it's weird, he's always had that protective sense over ranboo, too

but ranboo very obviously doesn't have wings, so he doesn't get it...

ranboo

yes ur a peasant

yes ur poor

yes im cooler than u

what r u gonna do about it

the enderdragon's son! partially a dragon, partially enderman, partially human (don't ask, his other mom is a hybrid), all spoiled brat!

given that he has a ton of dragon genes, he's extremely possessive over his stuff and Yes He Does Do The Hoarding Thing

he has a pile of rings and gold chains and necklaces and most of his jewellery hidden underneath his bed

(if you ask him, no, he doesn't)

not to wear

just to Have

one time, fundy stole one (1) bracelet from the hoard and ranboo was sent into a panic for a good 24 hours

he wouldn't leave his cave and kept counting and recounting as if that'd make the missing piece reappear

(when fundy had to give it back because of the guilt, he expected to get his face bitten off)

(instead, he just watched as the prince was flooded with relief, telling him to get the hell out and nothing more)

it's weird, he has so much gold and even a crown, and yet here he is

living with all those people ^^^

truth be told, the enderdragon isn't a very nice dragon

nor is she a very kind queen

nor was the other queen

nor was her son

there was a mutiny in the end, leading to the dragon queen and her wife being killed brutally by the crowd of angered people

they went after their son next, who had ordered executions and worked servants to the bone just as much as they had

they cut off his wings in the middle of the square

he was sure he was going to die until a random person (a peasant) jumped up and yelled at them for publicly torturing a child

but ranboo didn't really catch all of it, given he was delirious from pain

he got to get some stuff quickly and escape with his life

this wasn't too long ago, either, so he's still trying to...adjust...to people talking rudely to him

(he's also trying to adjust to not having wings)

(hence why he hurls himself off the edges of cliffs and then has to teleport to the bottom instead of glide. he keeps forgetting.)

[sortasirius]

“Inherit the Earth” and the Fakeout

Absolutely genius.  Amazing, iconic, legendary, something only our showrunner Andrew Dabb can pull off.

"But Lilly, the episode was so bad!  It was just the brothers, they didn’t look for Cas and Eileen!”

YES.  THAT IS EXACTLY THE POINT.  THIS WAS A FAKE ENDING, THE END OF THE SEASON, NOT OF THE SERIES.

Let’s get into it.

An empty world.  No one left but Sam, Dean, and Jack.

So Dean ran, he somehow managed to pick himself up off the floor of the dungeon and meet up with Sam and Jack.  That jacket was this silent reminder.  Remember what I’ve been saying, Cas has occupied the negative space all season, this is no exception.

Dean can’t look either of them in the face, he’s doing that thing, where his eyes move everywhere BUT where he should look. 

“I couldn’t save anybody.”

Sam couldn’t save the world and Dean couldn’t save the one person that means the world to him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“Dean?”

I think it’s there, in that pause where Dean tries to push down the emotions, continue the fight, not think about the memories he left in the bunker, that Jack realizes what must have happened. Jack is the only one that knows about the deal, he has to know what Cas not being there must mean.

“He saved me.  Billie was coming after us.  Cas summoned the Empty.  It took her...and took him.  Cas is gone.”

This may shock you, but I am GLAD they didn’t talk about Cas, especially with what happens at the end of the episode.  Cas is allowed to just take up unsaid space.  It’s obvious he’s missing with the way they blocked things, obvious he’s missing here.  This whole “oh well they don’t care about Cas because they didn’t talk about him”?  Malarkey.

“Jack I’m sorry.”

Guilt.  Regret.  Pain.  Dean will carry this with him for the rest of his life.  Not only that he lost Cas, but that Sam lost Cas, that Jack lost Cas.

That SHOT, with the distance between Jack and Sam where Cas is SUPPOSED TO BE, and then a zoom out to...THE WORLD.

Okay, as usual, Bucklemming has the subtlety of a sledgehammer lmao.

Jack crying???  Praying to Cas????  Bruh?????

Also it’s just straight-up frightening for everything around my boy to die he is my baby son.

Also not to point out the incredibly obvious, but Dean starts drinking immediately, and continues drinking throughout the whole episode.  Grief arc 2.0 babey.

“We can what, Dean?  There’s no one left to save!  Everybody’s gone!”

“You can’t just give up.”

“What other choice do we have!”

Idk why, but for Sam, who’s the constant, the one who’s always had hope, through everything, through all these years, when he finally says this, when he finally loses his hope?  It hits the hardest.  Sam is the leader, so not only is he grieving the loss of Eileen, he is a general grieving the loss of his soldiers, his friends, the world that he feels the duty to save.

When they go to meet Chuck, I just can’t get that image of Dean, leaning against the car, handprint still on his jacket, staring at the ground out of my head.  It takes him a few seconds to catch up to Sam, like he’s pulled out of thoughts like deep dark water.  Remember friends, it doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

Chuck wearing BLACK?  FEAR.

“That’s right, the whole Cain and Abel thing.  Us dead, whatever.  I’ll kill Sam, Sam’ll kill me, we’ll kill each other.  Okay, you pick.  But first?  You gotta put everything back the way it was.  The people, the birds...Cas.  You gotta bring him back.”

Willing to kill his brother.  Willing to die.  Tears in his eyes, begging God to bring Cas back.

And Chuck?  Chuck doesn’t care about their surrender, he knows he’s already got them beaten.  He cares about their pain, he cares about them suffering, because to him?  That’s the entertainment.  He’s not entertained by their found family, by their happiness, by their joy.  He wants them to suffer, all of them.

“Eternal shame.  Suffering.  And loneliness.”

And he leaves them with just that.  No hope, no family, just the three of them, broken, alone.  Jack locked in his bedroom, Sam trying desperately to make life “normal” again.  And Dean.  Dean who drank so much he passed out on the floor.

He doesn’t feel terrific, he feels like shit, because not only is he dealing with the shame of an empty planet, he’s dealing with the guilt of being back in the place where the Empty took Cas.

This whole thing with the dog was just absolutely heartwrenching shit and if I didn’t hate Chuck before, him snapping Miracle right in front of an already fragile Dean would seal that deal.

I just want everyone to know that this is a Jake Abel stan account.

“Daddy’s boy” is a big insult for my boy Dean to use considering his own past with his trash abusive father but I’ll allow it.

I do think it’s interesting, ending of his arc aside, that Michael is willing to help them now.  What changed?  Sure, he ended up trying to help Chuck, running back to his father, but why get back in the game?  I wonder if it has anything to do with the loss of Adam.  It’s an interesting parallel, a man loses his angel while an angel loses his human.

Everything is so DARK in the Bunker now too, even the lighting is loud.

When I tell you I lost my shit when I saw Cas was calling Dean, when I heard Misha’s voice??  I knew it didn’t make any sense but I didn’t care, I would’ve been one step behind Dean as he sprinted towards the door.

Fuck you, Eugenie.

I mean it’s torture not only to Dean, who looks beyond fucking crushed when it’s damn Lucifer at the door, but for us too.  Who the FUCK wanted Lucifer back?  And to tease Cas???  Garbage.

I mean...fam.  Listen, we know who’s writing this episode, this whole Betty thing is just like blatantly unnecessary but again, Eugenie loves Lucifer, gotta distract her with a shiny toy lmao.

It was cool to see Michael and Lucifer onscreen together.  It was a cool dynamic that we rarely got to see.

The whole episode is just twist after twist.  Listen, it’s their last episode so I guess they needed to fit in a season worth of twists in one episode.

Bye Lucifer.  We know Eugenie can’t bring him back.  Blessings to all.

This scene with Adam is the FOURTH scene where Dean is drinking...big yikes to my guy’s liver.

Here’s the thing about Michael.  He’s a mirror for Dean in season 5.  Loyal to an absent father.  He has never changed, but Dean has.  Dean is able to acknowledge now, the trauma that his father put him through, he was able to move past the need for pleasing him at any cost.  Michael and Chuck?  Are John and Dean, if Dean had never been allowed to grow.  And Chuck proves, like John did, that he would always put his wants (in John’s case “the mission”) over his children.

Also not to beat a dead horse but Michael’s death was also peak Eugenie.

Sam getting to punch Chuck in the face?  Thank you, he deserves that.

Obviously I don’t love any scene of my boys getting brutally beaten.  But what I love, what I will always love about them, is what Chuck hates about them:  they won’t ever give up.  They know they won’t win against him, they don’t even land any hits, but that’s not what matters.  What matters is their controller doesn’t control them anymore, that they really are free.  No matter how hard they get hit, the get back up.  It is their choice to stand up to him, no matter the cost.

The moment where Sam and Dean are supporting each other, covered in blood, and they look God in the face, and they laugh.  That is why I will love them unconditionally for the rest of my life.  That is who they are, they will never cow to the villain, whether that’s Azazel or Alastair or Zachariah or Lucifer or Amara or Death or Metatron or Cain or God.  They will always choose to stand up.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because.  You lose.”

Chills.  What a line.

And Chuck is left, small, human, no longer a villain, no longer anything.

Gotta be real, woulda been nice to, idk, not see all this essential plot in a flashback, but I know I can only ask so much of Bucklemming.

For Dean to walk away from killing Chuck, right after he’s called him “the ultimate killer” is quite simply the most beautifully heartwrenching thing I could ever ask for.  Because that’s who Dean was under Chuck, that’s who Chuck wanted him to be.

And he would have before:

But he’s heard some things since then, heard some things about how others see him.  Not as the killer, not as a monster, not as angry and broken or his daddy’s blunt instrument:

I’m not saying that Dean doesn’t kill Chuck for Cas.  He doesn’t kill Chuck because he doesn’t think he has to anymore, he doesn’t kill Chuck because he listened to Cas, he took Cas’ words to heart.  He made the choice not to be the killer.

“See that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are.”

And Chuck is angry, because he thought, after everything, even after losing, that he would still know Dean well enough to know that he would kill him.  But Chuck has never really known Dean, he has never understood where he’s really come from.  Cas understood, Sam and Jack understand, but Chuck never did, and writing off Dean as angry and broken is his biggest mistake, because that’s never been Dean.

“It’s not his power anymore.”

And it’s not just his physical power, it’s his power over the story, over the boys that’s the real power taken from him.

For Jack to be the one to bring everyone back, for him to be the hero of the story?  That’s poetic right there.  Now, I will say, I don’t think this story ends with him as God, because for him, the child, to take on this burden, it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me for his arc, but we shall see next week.  It felt pretty tied up, but there’s one major loose end: and that’s Jack seeing Cas again.

“Just you and me, going wherever the story takes us.  Just us.”

“Finally free.”

This doesn’t feel triumphant to me, it doesn’t feel like relief.  It feels like they’ve settled, like this is the best they’re going to get, so they might as well make the best of it, at least they have each other.

For Cas and Jack to be carved into the table?  I cry.

And for the montage, very similar to “Swan Song” to be set to “Runnin on Empty”?  Sorry but that’s just too sus to be ignored.

They packaged this episode as an ending, because for many, it might be.  The season’s story, the season about fighting Chuck is over.  So, you might be asking (or, well, screaming, judging by my replies lol), what’s left?  And that’s a good question, Chuck has been defeated, so what is left?  What’s left is what’s really mattered all season: the relationships that have been crafted over the years.  Dean and Sam’s unhappiness at the end of the episode, where “just you and me” sounded more of a grudging acceptance than anything else, is one of the clues that has to be looked at.  Why didn’t Sam find Eileen, why didn’t Jack bring back Cas?  Those two characters specifically are the ones we need to watch out for.  As I’ve said over and over again, peace, contentment, satisfaction, those don’t come from Sam and Dean on the open road together anymore.  They have a family, more of a family than they did when they started hunting together all those years ago, and that family is what holds them together.  They need each other, of course, but each other isn’t enough anymore.  Sam needs Eileen, Dean needs Cas.  That is where they will find their peace.

This episode, as many written by Bucklemming was sloppy, rushed, packed full of shit, and had little gems that we can talk about forever, but that was the end of the season, and next week?  Andrew Dabb brings us home, where Dean and Sam will finally be able to choose what they want for themselves, and that, my friends, is Eileen and Cas.

[outhereinnevada]

holy SHIT your writing so addicting!! If youre still taking requests, could you do a fic of Sanford or Hank slowly finding out their S/O is a defecting Soldat? Like one of their eyes are gouged, they’re kinda traumatized about the AAHW etc, and then it culminates in them getting majorly wounded and their blood being bright yellow? That would honestly be REALLY fucking cool for a storyline, you can choose to ignore this of course but i just think it would be really fun to explore and write about

Ooo, I love this idea anon! Very angsty and creative. I'll use Sanford for this one.

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Defective - Sanford x Defective Soldat!Reader

Sitting on the side of your shared bed, You clutched the bandages that covered the empty eye socket where your Soldat eyepiece used to be.

"How am I even alive right now? I should've been dead ages ago."

You had woken up from another nightmare, you suffered from reoccurring nightmares ever since you defected and ran from the AAHW. You still remember all the bullets they shot into you, the MAG agents that crushed you, the other Soldats that ripped out your eyepiece and every other horrible thing they did when you ran.

Sanford woke up to see your hunched over form shaking from your distressed sobs, he immediately got up and sat next to you to hold you tight.

"s/o? Come here, it's okay. I'm right here honey, let it all out"

You clutched onto him tight, head resting on his chest as you cried. He threaded his fingers through your hair to calm you down as he's done many times before.

"Another nightmare?"

You nodded, still not being able to talk. He gingerly pressed a kiss onto your cheek.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You quickly shook your head no, you did not need him knowing about your past relations with the AAHW and you didn't not wanna remember all of trauma they caused.

"No, it's fine. I'll get it over it Sanford."

He wanted to push, but nodded and stood up. He grabbed his hook and turned back toward you.

"Well, we have a mission today and you're needed."

Your eyes widened, you? You were needed for a mission?

"W-what for? I have barely any fighting skills, I don't think I'd be of much help."

Sanford looked you in the eye lifting you onto your feet. He had been suspecting a lot of things over the past few months of you staying at the base. Your vast amount of knowledge on the AAHW, the gouged out eye, the way you can handle any tech they bring in even stuff that Deimos couldn't crack.

Even when you had gotten wounded, you'd hide it from him and take care of it yourself. He wanted to talk to you about it, but he could never find the time.

"Seeing as you know a lot about the AAHW and their tech, you're with Deimos to help us break in and get important documents."

You hesitated, you really didn't want anything happening that could expose you, but they needed you so you sucked it up and started packing your equipment

"Ok, I'll get my equipment and head out to the truck."

Sanford gave you quick hug before you walked out. He was planning to tag along with you once you guys had gotten inside the AAHW base.

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Parking a fair bit away, you and Deimos snuck up and hacked open the back door to the base, you were about to split up with Deimos until Sanford butted in.

"I think we should have one tech each, it would make getting these documents a lot easier and faster."

Hank thought about it and nodded, taking Deimos with him to the upper floor you were left with Sanford on the ground floor. Taking out your weapon you and Sanford cleared out the hallways and side rooms taking anything deemed valuable.

You both had made it to the end of the building, a ton of files, weapons and textlogs packed into your bags.

"That should be everything we can get in here, we can head to the back entrance now."

"Yeah, frankly I'm due for a good rest. All this fighting is really stressing me ou-"

A sudden shot to your leg caused you to drop to the ground, some Soldats and Agents had surrounded the two of you. You panicked, if they recognised you, you'd be dead for sure and sure enough one of Soldats picked you up by the hair, wrapping an arm around your neck with a knife pointed at your temple.

"Well, well. Look who it is, the traitor!"

The Soldat ripped the bandages off your eye, the dried yellow blood clear as day to Sanford. He stared in shock, his worst fears were realised. To push the nail in the coffin, the knife against your temple was slit against your cheek, the golden fluid dripping down from the wound.

"W-what?!"

"S-San...I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you, but-"

You were cut off by one of the Agents shooting you in the stomach, a pained scream ripped from your throat. Enraged, Sanford wasted no time taking out every single one of Soldats and Agents leaving only the one who held you hostage.

"Let. Her. Go."

"And why would I do that? She's worth big bucks for capture, alive or dead."

That set Sanford off, he slung his hook right into the Soldat's eyepiece yanking him away from you. He made quick work of him tearing off his head with his hook. He gingerly hoisted you up into his arms, a worried look on his face.

"Are you alright? They didn't hurt you too bad did they?"

"Why? Why did you help me?"

Walking back to the truck he kissed your forehead.

"You're my lover, why would I leave you to die?"

You only sniffled, your wounds were aching. Getting into the back of the truck, he quickly patched up your wounds and rebandaged your eye.

"Don't worry s/o, I'll be here for you no matter what."

He looked outside to see Hank and Deimos approaching with their bag of intel, quickly starting up the truck and flooring it back to home base.

"I won't let them hurt you again."

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Anon! I loved this prompt, thank you for requesting it! Hope you enjoyed

[thedeviousdevilxx]

Besides the drug and alcohol abuse in these GnR bios and autobios, there is a lot of disturbing events that are just kinda mentioned rather casually. 

Like 13-14 year old Steven having sex with a 30+ year old woman? A grown adult SHOULD NEVER be sexually involved with a minor! It’s statutory rape and basically that woman is a pedo. It doesn’t matter if the minor is interested or into it, they are still relatively a CHILD at that age. Ahhh I read that in Slash’s bio and while he neither endorsed or condemned the fact, it was written more matter of factly, and then Slash’s father told him to warn Steven that the husband wanted to kill Steven who is very much a YOUNG MINOR for sleeping with his wife. It was written as if it was kinda a messed up but sort of amusing antidote. And yet for me I thought this was so FUCKED UP. 

But I remember how our society views minor boys as sex crazed fiends so when an adult WOMAN grooms and engages in predatory sexual behavior with A MINOR BOY CHILD, people will actually congratulate the MINOR BOY CHILD of scoring, praising him for getting laid etc. It’s a sick twisted perspective pushed by our patriarchal society(men always want sex/are ready for sex) and so when these minor boys grow up many develop a lot of issues stemming from this but society just brushes it off. 

Because like we should discuss the ways which women can be predatory and it can be done WITHOUT derailing other discussions about cis female and trans female victims ya know! 

Anyways yeah that part disturbed me a lot, along with yeah the accusation against Axl according to Slash’s perspective it seemed a mess of a situation and since nobody knows the girl’s side we just have Axl and Slash’s version so who really knows. 

But for the record rape accusations are very rare, and when cases get dropped it’s because the court system is actively hostile to victims, AND, lack of evidence thus dissolving into he said/she said etc. Going through the court system is traumatic, and when cases when the assault is seen, still the rapist walks off with a pitiful sentence showing even with EVIDENCE, witnesses! Most cases never receive any justice because the justice system is broken! That’s another topic. 

 Anyways this incident happened before they were even big and famous so the idea she did so because of some nebulous gain rather than drugs were involved and when drugs and sex are involved things can go bad really quickly. Which is why consent TODAY is so important. And that goes for guys under the influence as well, you become incredible vulnerable, can be incoherent and thus unable to make lucid decisions! It goes BOTH ways and while some might not think it’s messed up, if one partner is more sober than the other, that’s not okay and we as a society need to discuss why and how to openly and safely discuss messy situations like this without too much judgment and moral handwringing. 

And Axl himself was abused and sexually assaulted while hitch hiking but got away. This deeply impacted him, like of course that was fucking traumatic! Plus the familial abuse...y’all no wonder he’s unhinged, the dude suffered a lot.

 For me it just shows how incredible difficult things about this subject, it isn’t always clear cut, there are so many shades of grey, it’s complex, messy, and just fucked up and sometimes there is no justice, no help, no fix for the situation.

GnR are a bunch of fucked up individuals dealing with a shit ton of trauma, abuse, addictions but in general yeah I do not think they’re bad people compared to a lot. But we tend to view celebrities with too much heart eyes and idolize them that all their bad behaviors, bigotry, and flaws are ignored, justified or even praised and celebrated. Some “stans” take it even further and worship celebrities going so far as to harass, dox, and target people with criticisms. 

They are people, and people fuck up, and sometimes those fuck ups are too much. Personally I have a line that if something or someone I adore crosses, it’s over. I’m mature enough to know when it’s time to let go.  

I also don’t hold people’s past over their heads unless they haven’t shown they’ve changed. Someone with a looooong history of certain actions or behaviors, or it’s very, very recent. Yeah no cigar there mate 

No point this is just a brain dump. 

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Idk if you answered this and I didn't see or if it was one that got deleted by Tumblr fhdhddh but how about Helen, EJ, and Toby with an s/o who has like John Constantine type magic (🌙)

Uh. So. I have no idea who this dude is and he has WAAAAAAAAAY more abilities than I can put into one ask according to google, so I just selected his powers related to necromancy and the afterlife and the occult

I get that you guys sometimes like different-fandom related asks but please keep it simple. I almost didn't accept this ask but I chose to just focus on some of his powers instead.

Helen:

Helen is probably most interested in your abilities relating to traveling through the afterlife. It's not often that a human knows and is able to travel through all of the paths relating to heaven and hell, and the fact that you can escape death by exiting the afterlife is also quite interesting to him. Helen is a huge occult nerd and he loves everything involving death, and so it's quite possible that he might come out of his shell a little bit to pester you about such things and totally not because he wants you to use your powers to do things for him, definitely not.

Eyeless Jack:

Questions you CONSTANTLY about your powers, no, you will not hear the end of it. Jack is a man of science, despite being an occult creation himself, and it simply does not make sense that you can evade death and summon other spirits and communicate with them. Although be forewarned, if you start getting too cultish or end up venturing down that path, it'll probably make Jack start to avoid you a bit. The trauma he suffered from the cult he was a part of tends to resurface in his memories every now and then, and when it starts bubbling up he gets violent and reclusive, and it's best to avoid that.

Toby:

His very first question upon learning about your abilities is that if YOU can evade death by exiting the afterlife, and you help HIM evade death? And the correct answer is no because if you say yes he WILL do a shit ton of stupid shit because he isn't worried about dying anymore so definitely tell him that no you cannot save him if he dies, regardless of if you can or not. He considers asking if you can help him communicate with Lyra but decides against it. If he ever does ask, tell him NO. This will not be a good thing for him, and he needs to understand that.