#Mostly because he does not have the qualifications to give the two of them the therapy they desperately need over both their trauma.

[grey-eyed-menace]

With hope so fragile, so quiet and scared, that it's already long shattered. The pieces digging into her soft heart like fiberglass, hurting, aching, Uri doesn't want to take his hand.

She doesn't, but his hand is still held out, and his smile is so heartbreakingly gentle, so sincere, that Urisha can't help but grab onto it, with both of her hands, and squeeze, stumbling forward with wide eyes.

And, for the first time that she can really remember, someone catches her, pressing her close to their chest, arms wound tight, as though afraid she'd disappear, lips against her temple, and they whisper comfort into her ear with little hesitation.

Uri buries her nose in the crook of his neck, shoulders shaking as the first sob begins to make it's way out of her throat. Ugly and sharp, it's more a wail than anything else, but still... It's hers.

It's the first moment of the rest of her life, a new beginning, but, for the first hour or so, it feels so unbelievably unbearable that all Uri can bring herself to do is cry.

Hope has never felt so unimaginably painful before, and, she wonders, quietly, if this means she was ever really meant for it.

If it meant something as flawed and ugly as her deserved to exist, if something as beautiful as even hope could scare her into submission.

[Uri remembers the first, and only, time she went to her mother for anything resembling comfort, she remembers the pain it brought, the despair, the fear.

She remembers the burn of alcohol on the woman's breath, the dig of her nails, the venom in her voice. Uri remembers it as the only time the woman called her anything other than 'Girl' or 'Darling Urisha'.

She remembers the tears, hot and ugly that pricked her eyes after everything was said, after everything Alara told her, after being told she was nothing.

...Uri doesn't have many more memories of her mother after that incident, she doesn't think she'd want more if she's honest.]

(Uri loved Azazel as a child, so frighteningly innocent in her admiration and want to remain by his side.

Azazel had treated her more like a particularly amusing puppy, she realized now, and when she stopped amusing him he threw her to the side, uninterested in playing the father figure to a little girl who's only real achievement was being able to jury-rig rudimentary spells.)

{Uri thinks she might have been some sort of suicidal the first time she tried to kill Vali, tried to strangle him because he had made one too many tactless comments about how her sister put up more of a fight than she probably ever had.

She remembers tackling him to the ground, she remembers screaming and kicking, biting and scratching.

She remembers being thrown into the adjacent wall hard enough to leave an indent, she remembers diving for his throat not long after.

More than anything, Uri remembers that Vali's the only person who's never called her anything other than Uri, she also knows she's probably one of the only people who's wanted his head on a silver platter for anything other his title as Albion's champion.

Uri thinks she would have hated him for the simple fact that his mother loved him.}

"You can stay here for as long as you want," Nero offers, softly, fingers running through her hair with obvious affection, "for as long as you need, you don't have to hide, we won't hurt you."

Uri can only latch on tighter, bury herself deeper in his embrace as he quietly mumbles soothing words, sobs still wracking her small frame.

It doesn't escape her that he hasn't offered her a place in his Peerage, he's offering her genuine protection, an official education, something...

Maybe a family?

She... doesn't know how that works. Family. Not really.

Alara was a shit mother, always more obsessed with her status as the mother of the bastard Mammon, the useless little girl who hadn't brought her the protection and riches that her visions that said she would. The useless drunk of a Seer who hit and verbally tore apart little girls whenever she didn't get something she wanted.

Evectus was completely absent, wholed up in some mansion in the Underworld swearing beyond all reason that she deserved to have her head mounted on a pike for simply being born to a woman who was crazy enough to fuck him.

Azazel was interested in playing the role of a father for all of seven months before he found her rivalry, (Vali's childish want), with his actual investment more amusing. His words always lilted towards his own benefit, treating her more like a brainless puppy than someone with an actual self-worth beyond 'Please Love Me!' and all the bullshit that entailed.

Vali wanted just as many things from her as others, but his were always more personal, more hard-headed, less obvious, Vali wanted such childish things from her, such childish little things that... Uri sometimes, could entertain the idea of looking up to him as an older brother. Could sometimes allow herself to indulge in those childish wants when they still just... wants of a child, the bone crushing hugs, the assurance that someone cared about him beyond his status as a Longinus user, sleeping with someone who wouldn't leave as soon as morning came, who wouldn't use him for Albion.

[Uri could never quite bring herself to believe in things about people loving her beyond what she could bring to the table, could never quite find it in herself to look Vali in eye after one to many truths had been revealed.]

____________

And this is where I ran out of ideas!

[suzukiblu]

NaNoWriMo day three; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Still, Kon's been taking care of himself this long, Tim guesses, so maybe . . .

No. No, this is definitely fucked-up and a terrible idea.

But he has no idea what he should do about it. What he even could do about it.

Kon finishes a whole order of cinnamon bread and is eyeing the next one before they even get back to base. Tim doesn't say anything about it because he's apparently been living on laboratory cafeteria food all this time, but does make him carry the highly precarious stack of food in. In his defense, "precarious stacks" are basically what TTK is made for, and also it'll hopefully distract Kon from potentially feeling weird about getting paid for or eating "too much" or just whatever.

Tim is going to burn Cadmus to the ground and stock up on kryptonite and a whole lot of explosives, but he's going to do it in the least Kon-upsetting way possible. Plus his supervillain timeline is a long-term plan too, and Kon should be eating things that aren't cafeteria food right now. And also not working for and living in a shady lab. And also–

"Shit, do we have any cups left?" Kon asks, looking around with a frown.

"Top of the fridge," Tim says, both because it's his job to know as much information as possible and because he's trying to avoid stressing himself out any worse. Stress is not productive. It's not going to fix the problem. Kon doesn't even want him to fix this problem.

"Cool," Kon says, then thumps the stack of pizza boxes down on the table and goes right for the cinnamon bread again, flipping the box open as he heads off to, presumably, retrieve the cups. Tim is entirely unsurprised and has no illusions that he'll be getting any of it himself.

He arranges the pizza boxes and everything else they ordered a little more accessibly on the table, trying not to obsess over the problem of Kon's current lifestyle. He's living in a lab getting by on cafeteria food and not getting properly compensated for doing a dangerous job and doesn't know Superman has a secret identity and is never, ever anything but "Superboy" himself. He doesn't have another identity to hide inside or fall back on or just take a break in. Didn't even have a real name until just recently, and that real name isn't anything he can use outside of still being Superboy.

Tim can't imagine never being able to take off Robin, but Kon probably can't imagine ever having to take off Superboy.

Tim doesn't even know what that would feel like.

Kon comes back with the cups, tosses them on the table, and stuffs another chunk of the already half-gone cinnamon bread into his mouth. Tim is starting to doubt the quality of that cafeteria even more than he reflexively did.

He opens the Zesti and pours them both a cup, and Kon looks oddly–not surprised, exactly? But a little puzzled, almost, watching Tim fill a cup for him.

"I can pour my own drink, Rob, geez," he snorts.

"I had it open already," Tim replies with a carefully dismissive shrug, screwing the lid back on the two-liter. Kon huffs, but picks up a cup and takes a drink.

"Sure, whatever," he says. "This is so much pizza, man. Think we can get through it all or should we call in Imp for backup?"

"If we do that, we're not getting any of it," Tim points out dryly.

"Okay, good point," Kon says. "Guess that's why you're the one in charge here, Wonder Boy."

"I had to get my qualifications from somewhere," Tim says, sparing him a wry smile. Kon sniggers, then rips off another chunk of the cinnamon bread and holds the mostly-empty rest of the box out to him. Tim blinks, a little surprised, but takes the last piece. "Thanks."

Note to self: Kon really likes cinnamon. Or icing, maybe. Or both.

Actually, that thought makes Tim feel a little flustered over Kon giving him the last piece of the cinnamon bread, given how thoroughly he destroyed the rest of it. Which is stupid, since he also hogged the rest of it and could've shared way more than just the last piece, the asshole.

Tim is absolutely still flustered anyway, though.

Yeah, he has it embarrassingly bad.

Ugh.

"Sure, man," Kon says, flashing him a grin. Tim swears to himself that this bastard can never, ever know how cute that grin makes him. If Kon knew he had a crush on him, he would be absolutely insufferable about it. Insufferable and smug.

Or, possibly, uncomfortable and freaked out. Or worse, angry and hateful. But Tim would rather not assume the absolute worst of an ally who almost counts as a friend, to whatever extent he can count anyone who hasn't seen his actual face before as a friend.

Both more and less than the guys at school, probably.

Tim's not sure what that actually says about his life these days.

But Kon . . . Tim doesn't really think Kon would be an asshole about it, if he knew Tim wasn't entirely straight. He's never really said anything to give him that impression.

He'd definitely be unbearable, though, so Tim will be taking the secret of this particular inadvisable crush to his grave, please and thank you.

They both sit down at the table–well, Tim sits, Kon more sprawls, and looks unfortunately attractive doing it–and grab a couple slices apiece and then crack open the wings. Kon eats much faster than Tim, who deliberately takes his time about it. Technically, avoiding getting pizza grease and barbecue sauce on his gloves is reason enough to do that, which is what he's going to point out if Kon comments on it, but obviously he's doing it to make sure Kon gets to eat as much as he wants.

Seriously. Cafeteria food for every meal. And not from a private school or fancy company's cafeteria; from an underground cloning lab with, again, incredibly dubious ethics.

Tim really can't imagine Cadmus is all that committed to food safety and quality, given all the human rights violations they've committed in just their day-to-day operations–to say nothing of any special projects like Kon.

Maybe Tim should release all their classified files onto the internet and just let whatever happens to them as a result happen.

. . . no, no, nobody needs any random weirdos on the dark web reverse-engineering any Kryptonian DNA or anything. Which they definitely would. Hell, just the front page of Reddit and a few YouTube comments would probably be enough to do it, and then somebody'd try to actually go and produce it "just to see".

Though it's still tempting, honestly.

Extremely tempting.

"Are you going to be here next weekend?" Tim says once Kon's mauled his way through a good dozen wings and four slices of pizza with very little sign of slowing down, and Kon stuffs most of another slice into his mouth with an easy shrug. He still looks cute even with terrible table manners, Tim notes resignedly. How is that possible? Why is that even a thing?

Kon is so goddamn annoying that way.

"Probably, yeah," Kon says around a mouthful of pizza before shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth. Tim watches in vague revulsion, wondering how he still finds him cute.

Gross, definitely, but still cute all the same.

"I mean, unless Cadmus needs me for something, anyway," Kon amends as he gets himself another slice. "Sometimes there's emergencies and shit, you know how it is."

"Definitely," Tim agrees, though "and shit" doesn't really cover Gotham-level disasters, as a descriptor. Still gets the point across, so whatever. "I'll be here, barring Gotham."

"You mean barring Batman," Kon snorts, rolling his eyes, and Tim feels a very weird way about the fact that Kon doesn't have a Batman in his life. Well–doesn't have a Bruce in his life, more like.

Or a Jack Drake.

It's kind of a sad thought, to be honest, though it probably makes the vigilante work a lot easier.

"Barring Batman," Tim agrees again, smiling wryly. "You realize you have a boss too now, right?"

"I could still be Superboy if I quit Cadmus, though," Kon says, which is a valid point, if not quite the one Tim was trying to make. "No way Batman wouldn't flip shit if you kept being Robin out from under his big black cape."

"Well, historically that hasn't always gone so well," Tim says, taking a sip of his Zesti. Kon tilts his head, looking curious.

"Wait, you've actually done that before?" he asks. "Seriously?"

"There's been other Robins, you know," Tim reminds him, wry again. Kon blinks.

"More than one?" he asks. "I thought it was just you and that Nightwing dude. Who else?"

It occurs to Tim, very suddenly, that Kon not only wasn't a superhero when Jason was Robin, he didn't even exist when Jason was Robin. He wouldn't have heard anything when it happened, even in rumors, and it's not like many people talk about Jason now, even in the community. At least not anywhere that Tim's ever heard, anyway.

Admittedly, that might be survivorship bias, all things considered.

"My immediate predecessor," Tim says carefully, taking another sip. "After Nightwing and before me. He's–not active anymore."

"Dead or just maimed?" Kon assumes. Tim doesn't bother wondering why "retired" doesn't occur to him as an option.

It's Kon. Of course "retired" wouldn't occur to him.

[vodika-vibes]

Convenient

Summary: Now that the war is over, you should leave Kamino. But, well, Kamino is just so damn convenient for you. And Alpha-17 has some questions.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x Reader

Word Count: 1823

Warnings: Suggestive

A/N: I'm in a Fox mood, but I can't think of an idea for Fox, so I wrote for Alpha-17 instead.

Divider by saradika

You hate Kamino.

You had the hospital white walls, and the way it always smells like antiseptic and soap. And you really hate how the Kaminoans look at you like you’re somehow lesser than them.

As if you’ve ever been lesser than anyone a day in your life!

Still, you are very well paid for your services, and Kamino does not have extradition treaties with Republic planets, which is the whole reason that you agreed to take the job in the first place.

You are a thief. Well…a con-artist, really. And you are very, very good at what you do. The Kaminoans don’t know that…though you’re fairly sure that Master Ti at least suspects that you’re not what you claim you are.

Which is categorically untrue. You started your career as a Hacker, after all. Which makes you more than qualified to teach. Well, sort of. Technically your qualifications are all fake, but you’re the only person who knows that.

But now the war is over, and technically you can leave Kamino, and the judgemental Kaminoans, and the even more judgemental Jedi…but you don’t want to. 

Partly because Kamino still doesn’t offer extradition to Republic planets, but mostly because you’ve become attached to your kids, and you don’t want to leave them.

But right now you aren’t working.

Right now you’re sitting in a communal kitchen, curled up on the one comfortable couch, with your gaze focused on a datapad.

The young Queen of Naboo is throwing a gala in two months and there’s going to be a stunning dagger on display and you want it. Conning someone from half a galaxy away isn’t that hard, really. Not so long as you prepare.

You don’t even look up when you hear someone enter the room.

“You do know that you have a room, right?”

“Oh, is that what that room is? I hadn’t realized.” You reply lightly as you type a few more things, and then turn off your datapad as your plan goes into motion.

“What are you doing anyway?” You look up at Alpha-17, who watches you from the corner of his eye as he makes some more caf.

“A lady never reveals her secrets, Alpha.” You reply lightly, as you adjust on the couch and watch him with a secretive little smile.

Alpha-17 is one of the oldest clones. He also has the honor of being the most dangerous man on Kamino, and the most stubborn man you’ve ever met in your life. And you’ve met a lot of stubborn men over the years.

He watches you, all the time, and he’s not subtle about it at all. Likely because he believes you’re a threat to his brothers.

You respect that about him. Grudgingly, at first, and genuinely as time passed.

And, over the years, that respect has grown into a genuine attraction.  

He turns to look at you, “A lady, huh? Didn’t know there were any ladies on Kamino.”

“Then you must not be looking all that hard,” You reply as you smoothly untuck your legs and stretch them out in front of you, “After all, Shaak Ti and myself can hardly be compared to the…hm…thugs that made up the cuy’val dar, no?”

You smother a grin when you notice his gaze drag down your legs, and then back up to your face, “Well,” he says roughly, “General Ti isn’t a thug.”

“Oh Alpha,” You practically purr out his name, and you feel a surge of triumph as his gaze snaps to your lips, “I’m hurt.”

“You’ll get over it,” He counters, “You don’t look that upset. In fact, you look downright thrilled.”

“Well, I do enjoy talking to you, Alpha. No one else gives me the time of day. Except, of course, for my babies.” A fond smile crosses your face as you think of the dozen or so boys who lovingly call you mom.

“Maybe they’d be more willing to talk to you if you didn’t call them thugs,” Alpha offers sarcastically, as he walks over to you and stands close. Close enough to be uncomfortable if you were any other person.

“They are thugs.” You reply blithely.

“And that’s why no one here likes you,” He says.

“Hm…including you?” You ask as you smoothly push to your feet, allowing yourself right into Alpha’s personal space. 

And Alpha, who’s never backed down from anyone in his life, merely raises a single brow. “Why do you care if I like you or not?” He asks.

“Well, we are co-parenting, dear.”

He takes a sharp inhale, and you don’t even bother to hide your amused smile, “We’re not co-parenting.” He says after a moment.

“Agree to disagree then.” You say lightly, and then you gently tap his arm, “Excuse me.”

He moves to the side, allowing you to pass, but before you can make it to the sink, and grabs your wrist and spins you around fast enough that you’re off balance, “What are you working on, mesh’la?”

“Just a game, Captain,” You say to him, completely unafraid even though it would be so easy for him to hurt you, “No need for you to fret.”

His grip around your wrist tightens slightly, “General Ti doesn’t trust you. She says that you’re planning something.”

“I’ve been on Kamino, training those boys, since before she even knew Kamino existed.” You counter, “And I have never done anything to harm those boys.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You don’t deny you’re planning something.”

“I have lots of plans, darling.” You reply, your voice a whisper, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Tell me your plans.”

“Hm…” You flash a sly smile, “I have a twelve step plan based solely around getting you into my bed.”

His grip around your wrist loosens slightly, “You’re lying.” Alpha says with narrowed eyes.

“Am I?” You lean closer to him, until you’re pressed against the hard plastoid of his armor, “You’re not a dumb man, Alpha. And you’re not unobservant.”

His lips press into a thin line for a moment, “Fine. You’re not lying. But you’re not completely telling the truth either.”

You hum quietly, “Well, full disclosure, when I applied for the job it was…convenient.” 

“Convenient?”

“Mm.” You hum your agreement, “Convenient.”

“In what way?” Alpha demands.

You hum thoughtfully, and then you grin, “That’s a secret, I’m afraid. But, you can go and tell General Ti that my only plans involve seducing you.”

“You think she sent me to interrogate you?” Alpha asks.

“Oh Alpha, of course she did.” You say with a laugh, “Now…since you don’t want me in here, I suppose I’ll just have to return to my room.” You lightly tap his hand, and he releases your wrist. You favor him with a warm smile as you back out of the room.

The walk back to your room takes ten minutes. And you manage to get the door open, and then shut, and your datapad plugged in, before there’s a knock on the door.

You open the door and don’t even bother to hide your amusement at seeing Alpha-17 on the other side. “Is there something else General Ti needs from me?” You ask lightly.

Something dangerous slides across Alpha’s face and he steps into your room. He reaches out and shuts the door with a hit of the door panel. “So far as I’m aware, she doesn’t know I’m here.” 

“She’s aware of where you are, Alpha. She’s a Jedi.”

He scoffs, and his deft fingers start stripping his armor off, his gaze locked on yours, “I find myself very interested in this seduction plan of yours,” He said, his voice a low rumble, “But I’m also not half patient enough to wait for you to put your plan into play.”

You quirk a single brow, “Is that right?” You ask as you watch him strip his armor off and set it next to the door.

“It is right.” Once his armor was neatly stacked next to the door, he advances on you, “So you’re going to tell me about why Kamino is convenient, and then I am going to claim you as mine.”

“What if I don’t want to be claimed?” You ask.

His hands settle on your hips, and then slide down to your thighs, and you squeak when he lifts you effortlessly, “I think you’ll find that I can be very convincing, cyar’ika.” He says once he encourages you to hook your legs around his waist.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” You agree with a laugh.

He walks you across the room, to the bed, and he settles you in the middle of the bed, and then he settles himself over you, using his hips to pin you in place. “So,” he says lightly, as he lightly grips your wrists and pins them next to your head, “Why Kamino?” Alpha asks as he presses his face into your neck and presses a hot kiss against your pulse.

You jolt at the kiss, and then again when you feel him nipping the same spot, “Uh…maybe I like the rain.”

He hums against your skin, and his lips trail down to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, where he kisses, and then bites down just hard enough to leave an obvious mark, “Try again, cyare.”

You whine as he moves his lips again, and bites down a third time, “Kamino doesn’t extradite anywhere.” You say through a quiet moan.

You feel him grin against your skin, “That’s an interesting thing for you to worry about.” He growls as he moves his lips to your throat.

You let out a breathless laugh, “I’m a con-artist, Alpha. A con-artist and an art thief. And I really don't want to go to jail.”

He pauses, and pulls back to look at you, “I’ve seen how you train the cadets, mesh’la. Are you telling me you’re a thief and a tech wiz?”

“I started out as a slicer and decided to evolve into something more challenging.” You admit with a sheepish grin.

“So your credentials?”

“All fake.”

Alpha stares at you, and then he laughs, and crashes his lips against yours, “Good to know.” He mumbles against your lips, “But I can’t seem to bring myself to care.”

You laugh quietly, “If I knew that all I needed to do to get you in my bed is tell you that I wanted you there-” You tease lightly.

His eyes glimmer with mischief as he sits up a little. And then he slowly drags your hands over your head, and pins them in place with one hand, and he uses his newly free hand to start peeling your clothes off. “I’m going to strip your clothes off, and then I’m going to unmake you three or four times before I claim you as my own.” He promises, and then he kisses you.

You grin into the kiss. Alpha always keeps his promises, after all.

[hellaverse-deconstructed]

5 of the Most Notable Images in Hazbin Hotel

To start, I honestly think that this was one of the most impactful frames of the first episode and it sets up Charlie's conflict with heaven perfectly. We already kind of understand from the little lore breakdown in the beginning of the episode that heaven is going to be a difficult entity to deal with, but this whole scene really solidifies it. Not only is Adam set up as one of the story's biggest antagonistic forces, but he's set up as a character that exists to directly oppose Charlie. Everything he does is done with the intent to demean her and her values -- some examples include him using up all of their meeting time talking about things that are irrelevant to the purpose of the meeting, refusing to entertain her concerns, taking every possible opportunity to make her look bad. This shot alone (which, interestingly enough, is only like a handful of frames in the first episode) sets the tone for their dynamic perfectly.

(Sorry for the crappy image quality; I had to get these screenshots through a third party service!)

I feel like this image has more personal significant than plot-relevant significance, but I still wanted to talk about it! Throughout the season, we see this underlying struggle between two groups of overlords -- overlords that have been around for a long time (think: Zestial, Alastor [barely makes the cut], Carmilla) and newer overlords (e.g. Valentino, Vox, Velvette, Beelzebub). I just think it's so interesting that we get to see how things function differently between different generations of overlords. I'm also really looking forward to seeing how/if Hell will end up making the shift to rely more on newer technologically dependent overlords as the times and social needs of Hell's population shift.

I think we can all agree that this image speaks really strongly. To start, this is the first time that we see Anthony breaking the "Angel Dust" persona, which is a really strong plot point on its own. I also think that, without making it feel too expository, Angel Dust is a really good example of exactly what making a deal with an overlord can look like. Although I'm sure it's different between overlords depending on their motive (if that's the right word for it), I'm sure the amount of control is about the same. Between Angel Dust and Husker, both of whom are bound to their respective overlords because they've sold their souls, both of them seem to cruise along with their bosses as long as they don't present any unnecessary challenges.

I don't have too much to say about this one, I mostly just included it because this is one of the most popular songs in the show (Loser, Baby) and I really do hope that these two idiots end up together (though it feels a little bit unlikely as I squint as Stolas and Blitzo from Helluva Boss). I also feel like it's important to point out, because one of my friends didn't see it until I pointed it out to her, that this image is colored with the colors of the MLM pride flag!

I would honestly say that this image is one of the most impactful images in the entire show. I have watched this episode probably at least a hundred times and this scene still gives me goosebumps every time I see it. For context: this is after Charlie has been able to secure a meeting with Heaven's Court to argue for the cause of her hotel, that sinners should be worthy of Redemption so that they can move on to Heaven. This would take care of the problem of Hell constantly becoming overpopulated. As it turns out, no one in Heaven knows what actually got them there, which leads us to this scene. Enraged, Charlie and Emily (one of Heaven's seraphim) are pushing back in song against Heaven's Court and their qualifications. Charlie has just spent all of this time arguing that Angel Dust, as an example, should qualify for redemption and it turns out that it was all (kind of) for nothing because no one in the court has any say in who comes to Heaven and who doesn't. It might seem kind of silly but, trust me, just watch the episode (Episode 6). It'll just make so much more sense.

[riftwalker-limbro]

cephalon classifications

we know that Jordas & Ordis are Series-2 cephalons. Simaris & Suda are much newer. Cy is... i'm gonna guess somewhere in between these two classes. so, we have

Series-1??? Prototype?

Series-2: Orokin-style servant cephalons, with features to avoid the cephalon getting too much of an identity of its own, like mostly talking in the third person.

Railjack Cephalons: capable of first-person speech but obviously still very focused on one specific goal. need certain qualifications for this, according to Cy.

Relay Cephalons: have a fully-fledged personality and personal goals that stretch beyond their digital confinement. The only type of Cephalon whose datascape we've been in. presumably, these were volunteers to be turned cephalon in life, and have as such been allowed to retain all of their memories.

several questions.

what was the prototype cephalon series like?

what are the datascapes of non-relay cephalons like?

are there other cephalon tiers we just never hear about?

headcanons below the cut.

Prototype Cephalons

So the bare minimum requirements for a cephalon is to be smart enough to pilot an Orbiter and serve a Tenno, right? but not smart enough to rebel against the Orokin, or even give the Tenno the idea to.

i propose that the protoype cephalons were even more restricted than we see ordis being - probably like how ordis was with the vitruvian messing him up: completely depersonalised, emotionless. maybe prototype cephalons didn't even have a biological base in the first place but were pure AI. ordis with his mind-spy might've been one of the foundational/prototypical series-2 cephalons.

Datascapes

simaris' datascape is his pride and joy, and it is immense and varied, and several whole ass game mechanics happen inside of it (sanctuary onslaught, the simulacrum). compared to this, suda's datascape as we see it in octavia's anthem is almost barren, just containing the music elements. her goals do not require extensive use of her datascape like simaris' do, so her datascape is likely just for personal hanging out. it's like comparing someone's office-workspace to someone else's bedroom full of cds and a radio that belongs in a museum.

and these are two of the most advanced cephalon we meet. what does this mean for the other tiers? they might not even have datascape functionalities but i don't like that thought so i'm gonna invent something else that does make me happy.

going down tier by tier, i think railjack cephalons would be able to use a datascape for training, with or without their crew. simulating battle scenarios etc. they would need capabilities to host multiple people for these trainings.

but regular series-2 ship cephalons? the bare minimum i think would be to be able to support a 1 person training session. that would fall under the tenno support cephalon needs. maybe if multiple tenno are working together, their ship cephalons are able to work together and build a cooperative datascape to support all of them at once.

Other Cephalon Tiers

Ordis mentions there's barely any Series-2 left that he knows of. Cy mentions that he can't find a suitable railjack cephalon except for himself. We know that in-universe there are more tenno than just you, and presumably, not everyone has an identical Ordis copy. What are the odds that everyone else has a relay-tier cephalon and all of them are perfectly fine steering a ship for a tenno?

I think there is probably a tier in between series 2 and railjack, let's call it series-3, which mostly populates all other ships. if relay tier cephalons were allowed to keep their memories because they were volunteers and not otherwise a danger to the orokin empire, those were probably quite rare, and the orokin likely needed more cephalons than they had volunteers. so they would've likely sourced the biological components from undesirables if they couldn't get volunteers, similar to the warframe program.

so, after the failed series-1 and the prototypal hybrid-source series-2, the orokin perfected the single-tenno servant cephalon in series-3. i'm thinking, personality of polite-orokin-ordis, without the third-person-thing, which would make it less obvious that these cephalons still have a mind-spy-esque thing on them that would prevent rebellion.

[crazyk-imagine]

Thick Gloves and Bloody Mouth Pieces

Pairing: Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe (Henry “Wolfman” Ruth) x Fem!reader

Characters: Fem!reader, Dick Rick (bad trainer), Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe (Henry “Wolfman” Ruth), Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, Ron “Slider” Kerner, Rick “Hollywood” Neven

Warnings: Dramatic (I don’t know where any of the theatrics came from but I’m rolling with the punches), Rick the trainer is a dick (maybe not so much here but in my mind, he is), Tom and others tease reader, reader and Leonard are adorable idiots

Word Count: 2,894

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You know you shouldn’t be here right now, not when you should be at home getting for- you don’t even want to think about the date right now. 

Especially not when Leonard looks so cute in his non-official uniform, a jacket that has a zipper and gym shorts or as you like to call them basketball shorts (followed by innocent teasing from Leonard and Ron mostly, although the latter takes it further by making jokes about you two getting together which somehow manage to go over the former’s head). 

Your eyes wander around the room, checking on the others, making sure no one needs anything like water or a first aide care. There have been too many times when that’s happened plus, you’re the only one who can even do a proper stitch. 

You inwardly groan at the sight of Dick Rick. 

Sometimes you wonder why he couldn’t have been named something else because you guys already have a Rick and he has a much cooler nickname, Hollywood (not given to him by you, thank God he’ll always say during his interviews). 

You pretend like you don’t see him and let him sit near you. 

Even knowing he’s sitting there beside you pisses you off, good thing no one likes him. Honestly, the only reason he got the job was because he has the qualifications… and his uncle is the one in charge of this whole thing, but everyone can admit that he genuinely does have what it takes to be here and that’s ALL you give him credit for. 

The new fighters always wonder what he did to make you hate him so much and then they hear him open his mouth and some understand while others join in. 

Now, usually you’d have one of the guys sitting with you (more like babysitting you) but today, no one could because they have a fight they need to train for. 

You’re on the edge of your seat watching as Leonard practices, always giving everything, he’s got no matter what. “Kill ‘em!” 

“Ease up on the coaching there.” (Fake) Rick advises. “He’s got enough to worry about right now. We don’t need you trying to get into his head.” 

Your head snaps over in his direction. “You know what I think? I think that you’re actually worried that your uncle is gonna lose out on big win and making me seem like I’m the bad guy is your way of coping with it, which isn’t gonna get you very far. All I’m doing is supporting him. Now, either you shut up or lose it.” 

He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. 

“Listen here, Dick. I’m going to cheer him on. I will be screaming as loud as the other people in the crowd. I get this is practice, but I am proud of him, and I will show it any time I can. Either you shut up or I do it for you.” 

He stares at you with his every day sour expression. “The names Richard-” 

“Dick can be short for Richard. Think about Dick’s sporting goods, a place you don’t own, so sad.” Was it necessary to bring that up, no. Did it feel good, hell yeah. 

“I prefer Rick and they’re practicing. Tonight’s the big night so you’re “supportive” screaming isn’t helping anyone.” 

You raise your brows, “I say otherwise because he’s doing a real good job right now.” 

He doesn’t need to look over at Leonard and Tom, he knows they’re doing good. “It’s practice. You don’t need to scream.” 

“I'm going to scream as loud as I want because he’s a good fighter and I am going to show it.” 

“I understand what you’re saying but-” 

“But nothing. I’m gonna go check on him and our friends because this conversation is going nowhere and you’re pissing me off.” 

Dick Rick doesn’t try to argue with you knowing this is the smartest thing to do. 

-

You get out of the chair and head over towards Leonard (who exited the ring right before you started to walk over) and Tom who sits in the chairs closest to the ring, sweat dripping down their heaving chests. “You two did good today.” 

“You mean, he looked good, and you assume I did good because you were too focused on screaming for him,” says Tom before he drinks some water. 

You scoff, glancing over at a non-focused Leonard, “someone is totally, not completely off?” 

The man with frosted tips raises a brow. “Everyone but dogboy knows you’re horny for him.” 

Your eyes widen, “what the hell?” You smack his shoulder. “Don’t say that.” 

He chuckles, “am I wrong?” 

“Shut up,” you walk away and head over towards their boxing partners, Ron and Rick. 

-

“You two feeling alright?” 

Ron lifts his head, staring at you. 

“Has anyone come over to check that out?” You point to the blood trail on the edge of his eyebrow closest to his temple. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“He’s lying and you know it.” 

You take the first aid kit from Rick. “Yeah, yeah.” You grab the items you need and start by cleaning the wound. 

“He’s staring.” Ron hisses, you mumble an apology. 

“He’s preparing for the fight.” 

“He’s staring at you,” the two say. 

“Why do I even bother trying to fight you two anymore?” You finish with the wound and start cleaning up. 

“You ever gonna tell him?” asks Ron. 

“If I haven’t told him and I’ve known him for- God- as long as I can remember-” 

“Hasn’t it been more than five years?” asks Ron. 

“Thank you, Mister know it all.” Your brows furrow together, “how do you know that?” 

“He won’t shut up about you. Plus, you showed up around the time he did.” 

“That seems like it could be true.” 

“Could be?” He scoffs, “it is true, and you know it.” He pushes himself off the bench and walks over to where Tom is. 

“He’s not wrong, you know,” Rick informs you. Always the one to tell you the truth when it comes to this kind of thing (plus it’d be nice [for all the guys] if the two of you got together). 

“If what you’re all saying is true, then why hasn’t he said anything?” 

He doesn't think he heard you correctly. You’ve never agreed with them or even thought about the possibility of Leonard liking you to be true. “What was that?” 

You shake your head, grabbing the first aid kit, “nothing. I’ve- Dick Rick pissed me off today and I’m not making sense so I’m gonna go.” 

“Come on, don’t be like that.” 

“How else am I supposed to be, Hollywood? I mean… seriously, if he hasn’t said anything by now, even when all you guys say is how much he likes me. Why hasn’t he tried to ask me out?” 

He shrugs, “maybe-uh- maybe he thinks you’re not interested.” 

“Do you honestly think that’s why?” 

He struggles to give you a response. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Look, I’ve got to go.” 

“Wait- where are you going?” 

You huff, the strand of hair blocking your view moves off to the side of your face. “I’ve got to go. I- I didn’t tell anyone but I have a date tonight and I wasn’t going to go on it but now I think I will. Maybe see where things take us, you know.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“I’m all out of good ideas when it comes to my love life but I’m ready to put myself out there and see what happens.” 

He clearly doesn’t approve of this idea, but you could care less right now. 

“I’ll be here for your guys’ fights, alright?” 

He says nothing. 

“Rick?” 

He blinks, processing what you’ve said. “Yeah, yeah. Have fun.” He keeps an eye on you as you walk out. 

-

He rushes over towards Leonard and smacks his arm. 

The latter breaks out of his daze, rubbing his arm with a confused expression. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Because you’re an idiot and everyone here can agree with that.” 

“That’s not true.” Various “yes's” and “he’s not wrong” can be heard through out the area. 

Leonard scoffs, “whatever.” 

“You need to get off your horny butt and go after the woman you’ve been fawning over for the last thousand years.” 

“You’re exaggerating.” 

“What if I told you that she’s out on a date right now?” 

“Is she?” 

Rick shrugs, “you tell me.” 

“Do you know with who?” 

“She didn’t tell me that much.” 

“What if she winds up really liking this guy?” 

“That means you would miss your chance.” 

He pushes himself out of the chair, “I have to go find her.” 

“And then what?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You mean to tell me, you’re gonna crash her date with absolutely no reason?” 

“Well, I mean, technically, I have a reason… she’s gonna know right?” 

“No because you haven’t given her any signs you moron.” 

Leonard stops, taking a deep breath, “I’ve got to go, man. I can’t stand here and wait anymore.” 

Rick chuckles, slapping his shoulder, “go man.” 

-

You sip your drink, not at all enthralled by what your date is saying and no matter how many times you try to give your two cents, the man just… won’t… shut… up. 

“And then he was like-” 

A handful of flowers are shoved into your face. “I love you.” 

You set the glass down and take the flowers, finding them to be one of the prettiest combos you’ve seen, sunflowers and roses. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

You turn to see your the cowboy. “Leonard? What are- what are you doing here?” 

He opens his mouth to respond when your date interrupts him. 

“I’m sorry, whoever you are, but we’re,” he gestures to the two of you. “On date here so if you could just go back to wherever your redneck ass came from, that’d be great.” 

The man in the cowboy hat bends down to whisper in his ear. 

Your dates eyes widen before he rushes to get out of his seat, practically tripping over the legs of the chair. 

Leonard sits down in the, now, unoccupied chair with a cocky grin dancing across his lips. “What did you tell him?” 

“Nothing much. A little “harmless” threatening.” 

“What kind of threatening?” 

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze, “harsh enough to ensure that he doesn’t come back… here… on a date with you… ever.” 

Your jaw drops. “Wait- wait.” You remember he said something. “What did you say earlier?” 

“I don’t want him to date you.” 

“After that.” 

“I threatened him.” 

“No!” you set the flowers down on the table. “What did you say?” 

He gulps, unsure if he should tell you again or not. “I- do I really have to repeat myself?” 

“Please?” your tone wavers, thinking you may not have heard what you think he heard. 

He smiles, reaching for your hand. “I- I think I made the dumbest mistake waiting to tell you this but, oh boy. Here it goes, I-" he looks around, seeing how many people are here. “Actually, could we do this outside?” 

“If we do, will you ever tell me? Because when we need to have a serious conversation, it never happens, and it feels like you’ve shut down on me.” 

He leans forward, rubbing his hands across his faces. 

“Okay. Okay. Uh- there’s this- I- I’m having a real hard time trying to tell you this.” 

“Let’s start with what you first said when you shoved these beautiful flowers in my face,” you say with a light chuckle. 

He cracks a smile. “You caught that huh?” 

“I think I did but I don’t know for sure if what I heard was the right thing.” 

“Well, that- uh- that depends on your reaction to what I’m about to say.” 

“I think we both know what we’ve been denying for so long.” 

He leans closer, “and what’s that?” 

“That you, cowboy, are completely as smitten with me like I am with you.” You pray he doesn’t turn you as doubt swirls around in your mind. 

That crooked boyish grin takes over and that damned hat of his tips forward, covering his eyes. “That’s good to hear.” 

“Why? Cause it means you didn’t crash my date for nothing.” 

“Hey now. If I knew all I needed to do was this, I would have had Hollywood set you up a long time ago.” 

“Like I would have accepted whoever he wanted to set me up with.” 

“You... I think you would have.” 

“He probably would’ve told me his plan and then tricked the both of us into meeting at the same place.” 

He chuckles, “yeah, maybe.” He glances around, “how about we- uh- get out of here and go somewhere you’d actually enjoy.” 

A teasing smiles stretches across your lips. “What if I like it here?” 

“You don’t, I know it.” 

A heavy sigh slips past your lips, “if we must.” 

“I’ll make it worth your while.” 

-

“I told you not to order so much,” you chuckle, munching on a couple of fries. You kick your legs, the cool air hitting the exposed skin of your lower legs. 

He smiles, setting his burger down, wiping his face after you gestured to the mess on his chin. “You look really pretty by the way.” 

“You sound like a middle schooler with a crush.” 

“I’m just being honest, sweets.” 

“We both know you have more to say.” You’re hopeful that he’ll just come out and say it again. 

“Okay, maybe I do but I don’t want to scare you off.” 

You scoff, “please.” 

“Hey! I’d like to keep the woman I love close to me since I was on the verge of being too late and barely gained enough courage to ask her out tonight.” 

You cover your mouth, preventing any more food from flying out as you cough. 

He pats your back. “Are you okay?” 

“You just,” you croak with a hoarse voice. “You just- just said the woman you love.” 

“Oh,” he extends the word, finally realizing what he said to you (again). 

You grab your drink and gulp as much as you can, wanting to get rid of your hoarse voice. “That’s what you said right?” 

“Said what when?” 

“Don’t mess with me like that, Leo. You know what you said.” 

He gulps, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re right. I know what I said and I’m- I’m scared that you don’t feel the same.” 

“If I didn’t feel the same, would I have accepted this date?” 

“You’ve gone out with me before,” he points out with attitude. 

You scoff, “because I thought that you were asking me out on a genuine date! But then there you were talking to some girl just a few feet away from me.” 

“I’m sorry for thinking I never had a chance with you!” 

“If you had asked, you would have known!” You set your food off the side, pushing yourself out of the truck bed. “I’m leaving. I can’t do this with you right now.” 

“You can’t- you can’t do this with me right now? Seriously?” 

You reach for your purse. “I’m not going to sit here and fight with you over how scared I was that you didn’t like me even though I’m in love with you and how much it hurt to see you talking to all those girls when you were the one who invited me to go out with you!” You’re too upset to even realize that he’s pushed himself off the truck bed. 

He spins you around to kiss you only for it to end in laughter. The corner of his lips tugs upwards. “Are you really laughing at my romantic gesture right now?” 

You chuckle, staring into his pretty eyes. “You know exactly what I’m laughing at.” 

He nods, the hat bumping against your forehead once more, in a more affectionate manner. “That I do.” 

You snatch the item off his head, tossing it beside the food. You take a deep breath, watching the way his eyes dip down towards your lips. 

“This isn’t going to be as dramatic; you know?” 

“Just kiss me you-” Your hands slid up his arms, fingers interlocking against the back of his neck. The warmth of his hand on your cheek and your hip causes the butterflies in your stomach to flutter harder than they ever have when you’re with him. You’re the first to pull away, eyes still closed enjoying this moment. 

“Wow,” he breathes out. “I think I’m getting a hard on.” 

Your eyes snap open, finding that he’s staring at you. The corner of your lips twitch (of course he would say that now), you finally understand what everyone else has been saying, eyes truly are the window to one’s soul because all you can see is the love, he holds for you. “Guess everyone was right.” 

“What’s that?” 

“We both fell for each other but didn’t want to admit and now,” you stare at the collar of his hoodie for a few seconds realizing what the boys are gonna do. “And now they’re gonna make fun of us.” 

“Maybe, but then we can just do this,” he pulls you in for another kiss. 

You chuckle against his lips. 

[freebooter4ever]

So its hard not to feel completely out of place when your badge was only gifted to you because you happen to volunteer at a place every monday at the same time a Legend does. There's not a lot to volunteering - it doesn't require qualifications or a portfolio, you just have to know how to sweep leaves and cobwebds and memorize a ton of historical facts, and also wave to guests as they go by on the train. And here i am being introduced to important people with this sticker on my badge, and i want to go hide under a rock. BUT. But. Then a thing happened.

Dont get me wrong, i still absolutely do not belong here. But today as i sat down to lunch with everybody, somehow we got on the topic of googling people and jeff was being all 'i never google anybody i just ASK' and me and the wife of the Legend were disagreeing with him (the only two women at the table). And i told jeff i googled him after we met, and he was acting as if this was a betrayal, but i was like 'jeff, you were a man twice my age suddenly inviting me to things and spending a lot of time with me. of fucking course i googled you extensively'. And the Legend's wife was nodding along with me. And she added on that she googled ME.

And of course i was sitting there like Oh Fuck. How much of a panic should i be in right now?

And then she leaned in and said "your drawings are really good by the way. [the legend] thinks so too, we were looking at them".

I'm terrible at taking critique. I'M EVEN WORSE AT TAKING A COMPLIMENT. I was in like 100% panic mode, i dont remember how i responded, i was mostly just sitting there in shock.

So here's the thing about The Legend's wife - she's an artist, but not as loud about it, but every bit as talented in her own right. And she's intimidating. Not because of anything I've seen her do. But because everybody who intimidates me is intimidated by her, so its like passed down intimidation. (personally i've witnessed her hold court over an entire dinner booth full of fellow women in the industry who were giggling and chatting up a storm and i think the 'intimidation' is heavily skewed towards men).

One time after the Legend gave me a tour of the studios I baked him chocolate chip cookies as a thank you. And his wife happened to be there when I finally got the chance to deliver them. And she didn't try one in front of me, but i heard from jeff a few days later that not only did she eat a cookie (unheard of) but she also said it was the best cookie ever and that it actually made her want to drink milk (and she hates milk). And holy shit i was so proud, jeff was acting like i'd been annointed by a king. It was very clear that if i was to try to impress someone, she was the one to impress.

What im saying is, she has very high standards, she does not bullshit anyone, and unlike a lot of people in this industry will not give out praise unless its genuine.

And she liked my drawings ;_;

This weekend is over for me, im done, pack up, go home, it cant get better than this, ive peaked \o/

[chaotic-super]

Joining The Superfriends - 2

Well, this isn’t where Lena was expecting to be less than twelve hours after putting in her job application and yet here she is anyway: the office of John Jones’ PI firm.

Her hands are sweaty and she brushes them down her suit pants out of nerves, worrying about the creases she doesn’t have an iron to get rid of and despite hanging it up whilst showering, hoping for the steam to pull some of them out, it didn’t take out the folds from being in her suitcase so she’s nervous about that.

For whatever reason, she’s more nervous about that than she is about the actual interview, as strange as that sounds, and it makes her feel shallow and undignified.

Lena wills herself to gather her confidence and hold her head high then brings a hand up to knock firmly on the large wooden door to the office.

It swings open just a second later and it occurs to her that they might have known that she was out here and were waiting for her to get the courage to actually make herself known. The idea of these people standing inside judging her gives her an uncomfortable pit in her stomach, like she’s swallowed a lead pipe, and she can feel her cheeks heating up in a red flush.

John Jones is not what she was expecting at all. While stern, she can see a gentle kindness behind his eyes and she can’t help but envy the clear and precise way everything he says hits the mark perfectly, like he is the embodiment of a dictionary and thesaurus that can magically find the right words.

Lena is led further into the office by Mr Jones and sat on one side of a large oak desk which she’s happy for because the lip of the desk hides her creased pants from view. Two other women come and join him and they sit across from her, pulling up extra chairs so they can do so, even if it means that the women are only half behind the desk because of lack of space.

“Alright then, let’s get into it.” John states, pulling out a copy of Lena’s resume and smoothing it onto the desk in front of him. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice Ms Kieran.”

Lena puts on her best polite smile and looks over at the three of them, trying to make eye contact because that’s the only thing she can remember from a website that gives instructions on how to impress and interviewer. “No problem, and please, call me Lena.”

“Ok, Lena.” J’onn seems to sense her nerves and smiles softly at her across the table. It does give her a sense of calm in the middle of a storm because he has such a fatherly air about him, something her own father lacked when he was still alive. “You have a very impressive resume.”

“Thank you.” Lena feels like she should elaborate but her brain is coming up blank.

The woman on the right has short red hair and sits up ram rod straight in a way that Lena is sure must hurt her back at least a little bit. “I can see that you don’t have any IT experience.”

Lena clears her throat. “Whilst I have no experience in regard to qualifications, my previous job required a lot of IT skills, although that was mostly coding, and I have taught myself how to do a great deal of my IT skills, so I have no doubt that I am computer literate enough for whatever tasks you may need me for.”

The woman narrows her eyes, staring at her like she’s trying to burrow her way into Lena’s brain to see what she’s thinking. “Have you ever hacked into anything before?”

Lena isn’t shocked by the question, she’s sure that private investigators all do the odd sketchy thing to get the information they need but it still feels wrong to admit it, yet the way that Mr Jones is looking at her makes her want to be truthful, his earnestness seeping into skin.      

“I know that I shouldn’t admit it, but I have, yes.”

The woman leans forward now and if she were to have puppy ears, they would have perked right up at that answer. “Can you elaborate on that? What did you hack into?”

Lena presses her lips together. She’s definitely not getting the job now. “My previous employer. I found out that the money that they crowd funded with a gala for a children’s hospital was never donated so I hacked into their data bases to find out where it went and funnelled it to where it was meant to go in the first place, to the children.”

“Is that why you are now job searching?” Lena had almost forgotten about the other woman, a beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed woman with the kindest face she’s ever seen on a person, and she’s immensely jealous of her black framed glasses because they get to sit on her face and she doesn’t.

“No, I should have left after that, I was expecting to get found out and fired but it never happened so I stayed. I left because the company I was working for was manufacturing weapons against aliens and leaving the designs in the names of engineers in the labs, including myself, so they take the fall if it gets discovered.”

John tilts his head. “So you left because you were being set up and were afraid of going down for something you didn’t do?”

“Partly, but also because I turned a blind eye way too many times when I shouldn’t have and my designs and my work were my way of making up for that, I was working on a new medical device before I quit, and then I found the CEO in my office redesigning it to be used against Superman specifically and if I couldn’t make something good enough to outweigh the bad, then I wasn’t going to be there at all.”

The blonde woman watches her for a second before smiling. “So, you worked for Lex Luthor, huh?”

Lena was not expecting them to know that, she purposefully left the company name off of her resume so she wouldn’t be linked back to it.

“I did.”

The red haired woman stands sharply, leaning over the table. “I heard that he had a little sister who worked in the R&D department at Luthor Corp and her name was also Lena.”

The air around Lena is suddenly stale and she can do nothing but stare blankly across the desk at the three of them, John and the two nameless women.

“I think we all know who I am.” Lena forces out. “As much as we would all like it if I wasn’t.”

“Alex, sit down.” John’s voice is commanding and it seems like the red head, Alex, reacts on instinct because she lowers herself down all without losing an ounce of her hatred and rage. John redirects his attention back to her. “Why are you here, Ms Luthor?”

Lena ducks her head, trying to escape his probing looks. “I – I just moved here, I’ve been trying to summon up the courage to leave my family and their awful business for years but never had the guts. I rage quit Luthor Corp after the incident I just told you about and moved here. That was less than a week ago. I want to make a name for myself outside of my family, in spite of my family, can’t you understand that?”

A silence takes over the room, the words sitting heavy on their minds.

“Yes.” It’s the blonde who says it, her voice soft and thoughtful.

She and John share a look and then she nods at him.

“Lena, I don’t think I introduced myself before, I’m Kara Danvers, and that’s my sister Alex Danvers. Let me show you around and while John here gets you your written offer for you to look over.”

Alex’s glare turns into bafflement, and her confused look matches Lena’s own. “You’re offering her the job? Kara I –“

Kara stands, prompting John and Alex to do the same and then she steps in front of her sister, resting a calming hand on her forearm. “Alex, please just trust me. I have a good feeling about this.”

They stare at each other for a few beats, seemingly having a silent conversation of their own before Alex gives in and steps back. “Fine.”

“Lena, come on. I’ll give you the tour.” Kara turns to her with a smile.

In that moment Lena decides that she would be willing to follow this woman anywhere and rises from her chair to follow her across the room.

She follows close behind Kara, keeping her eyes at a respectable level even though she is very tempted to sneak a look at the behind of the beautiful blonde that just stuck her neck out for her.

At the back of the office is a staircase which then splits both left and right to lead upstairs with a wall being directly ahead to so you have to turn however when they get closer something strange happens to the wall – it starts to shift.

The bricks begin to part and move away from each other, opening up to reveal a strange set of metal doors which then open in turn to reveal the small open space of an elevator to them.

“What in the- you have a secret elevator? What kind of private investigators are you?” Lena watches as Kara steps into the elevator and gestures for her to join her inside.

“It’s actually easier for me to show you. Come on in.”

Lena pushes down her gut instinct telling her that doing so will get her in trouble and steps inside where she tracks the doors as they slide shut, trapping her inside. As soon as the doors shut she lets her eyes wander and finds it even stranger that there is multiple floors available. Surely there isn’t enough space in this building for more than two floors, three at a push, but there is four available floors according to the buttons.

Her heart feels like it’s going to explode out of her chest with how fast it’s beating which makes her nervously rub her palms down her pants again, still worried about the creases despite everything.

Kara catches her gaze and smiles at her in what Lena thinks is a reassuring way. “I’m going to be honest here and say that I’m probably more nervous than you.”

Lena’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “I doubt that.”

“It’s true. You’re about to see something we keep hidden from literally everyone else and I don’t really know you. I do have a really great feeling about you though.”

“Is this some kind of criminal stuff? If it is then I want nothing to do with it.” Lena steels her gaze. She really means her words. She’s only just got away from the criminality in her own family, she’s not about to get caught up in someone else’s.

The last response she’s expecting to get from Kara is hysterical laughter. Kara is even clutching at her sides and is still cackling away while Lena stands awkwardly beside her when the elevator doors open and expose them to a wide open room with computer at the ends that look like they are packing some serious hardware.

Kara gasps for breath, stumbling forward into the room before forcing herself to speak. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’ll see how funny that is when I explain in a second because we are really doing the exact opposite of criminal activity.”

Lena doesn’t know what to say to that but her face reacts quicker than she can control it, one perfectly sculped eyebrow lifting up into a raise that brings a pretty flush to Kara’s cheeks, something Lena enjoys the sight of very much.

Kara ducks her head shyly and clears her throat before wandering over to the other side of the room where a whiteboard is set up beside the fancy looking computer.

“Right so, this is going to be a bit shocking for you.”

Lena takes a deep breath, preparing herself. “Can we skip to the part where you tell me? The anticipation is killing me.”

“Of course, yes.” Kara rubs at the back of her neck then moves her hands down to unbutton her shirt. “This is what you’ll need to know.”

Lena is about to stop her, completely blown away by the fact that the woman that was just interviewing her for a job is now stripping for her, that is until she sees what’s beneath the shirt.

She knows that glyph.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Kara just nods, sensing that she needs a minute to process.

Lena turns away but doesn’t head for the elevator, her hands in her hair, messing up her previously neat ponytail. “I don’t understand.”

She turns back around to face Kara and she had no idea that Supergirl could look so sheepish. “Listen, Lena. I’m being upfront here, we need someone to help us out with our day to day vigilante goings on and that includes a lot of technological stuff we can’t do on our own and unfortunately, people who can help us out with stuff like that don’t just fall into our laps, we have to find them.”

“So, you would tell anyone who got the job your identity right away and just hope that they are willing to keep it a secret?”

Kara shakes her head. “Not exactly. John isn’t who we said he is. His name is actually J’onn J’onzz and he’s a Martian. He can read minds and also erase memories if he has to, although that is something we try to avoid at all costs. He wouldn’t have let you up here if he had sensed even a tiny bit that you would use this information against us.”

Lena feels both violated and flattered. On the one hand, she’s happy that these incredible people, superheroes, have enough trust in her that they told her their massive secret just a few minutes after meeting her, but on the other hand, they have looked at her private thoughts without consent and they could also wipe her memory if they want to.

“The job is real? It’s just working IT for superheroes and I’m guessing you want someone to design fun little gadgets for you since you want someone who knows engineering too?”

“It’s real. We didn’t know how else to look for a new team member. We had our IT guy before and he was great and will always be great. He had to go to the future to save the world and we realized that we have no idea how to do half the stuff he did so we need help and based on your resume and the whole vibe you’re giving off, I think you’d be a great fit.”

So, apparently time travel is real. That’s a good little titbit to be dropped in the middle of this already confusing conversation. Lena used to pride herself on having a quick brain and now she’s come to the conclusion that she was just deluding herself because she is very slow right now.

“I can’t believe that this is happening right now.”

Kara’s mouth opens like she is about to say something and then closes again because really, what else can she say?

“I think I need to sit down.” Lena’s eyes are wide and frantic making Kara snap into action, using her superspeed to get her a chair and carefully help her down into it, a glass of water appearing in her hand before Lena can register it. “Thanks.”

“Do you want me to give you a minute alone to gather your thoughts?”

Lena nods absentmindedly. “If you don’t mind.”

Kara squeezes her shoulder on the way past her and disappears through a door somewhere off to the side.

Then Lena is left to her own devices and the storm raging on in her head. How in the world did she leave her psychopathic family and get offered a job with by the family of her brother’s greatest enemy. Not only that but Supergirl believes in her despite not really knowing her.

Looking around the room there is several things that she takes note of: the buttons on the wall with all of the symbols of different heroes from many different cities, the whiteboard displaying different types of aliens and the best ways to take them into containment, the lit up computer screen that has surveillance of the entire city and the red cape draped over the banister of the stairs leading up to the balcony.

This is real and this is a real opportunity to separate herself from the Luthor name for good and build a legacy of her own, with the good guys on her side this time. This is too good of an opportunity to turn down now.

“Supergirl?” Lena calls out in the direction of where she thinks she saw her go and makes her way over to the doorway on the other side of the room.

She doesn’t get an answer but when she peeks around the doorway she sees why. Standing in the middle of the kitchen she catches Supergirl herself with her hand in the cookie jar and her mouth full.

“I’m in.”

Kara tries to answer but can’t because of the cookies she stuffed into her mouth so she just does a happy little excited dance and gives Lena a thumbs up while she chews.

She swallows the cookie as quickly as she can, grabbing more cookies before closing the jar. “Want one?”

Lena is about to politely decline but changes her mind, gone are the days when she has to listen to her mother tell her how she’ll ruin her body if she so much as looks at foods with sugar in them. “You know what? I do.”

Kara gleefully hands one over. “We’re going to get along just fine, Lena Kieran.”

Lena squints at her. “Why are you calling me that now that you know who I am?”

“I used to be Kara Zor-El, still am sometimes, but now I’m Kara Danvers. Circumstances change and so do people. We get to choose who to be and it wouldn’t be fair to lump you in with people you don’t want to associate with, even if they are family. I know better than most what it’s like to want to separate yourself from your family.” Kara bites into her cookie, at the end of her little speech and leaves Lena speechless.

“You really have a way with words, you know that right?”

Kara smiles at her, crumbs gathering on her lips. “Thanks! Now, how about we finish up that tour and I show you what will be your lab?”

“I get my own lab?” Lena’s excitement overtakes her to the point where she has to stop herself from skipping down the hall after Kara.

Read chapter 1 on A03 here

Read up to Chapter 8 on Patreon here

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

Please ramble away about MK and the waddle dees!!

the joke au where MK is legally a waddle dee :0 I need to know more about it!!

This is the Dedede 64 crochet attempter anon btw who had to stop their work because of college hell

So Waddle Dees are simple creatures.

A common, but major misconception is they are uniform to the point where deviation is not tolerated. Variations are on the rarer side, but not unheard of. Sometimes Waddle Dees are not orange, but instead red, brown, yellow, and in rare cases almost green or purple. These variations do not matter in the social structure of a Waddle Dee herd. Additionally, some Dees are known to become masters in a dedicated subject, changing their name and appearance to reflect this. These changes also do not matter; they are still Waddle Dees to any other Dee.

The essentials are as follows: Waddle Dees are all are small, round, no mouth, two eyes, and a face lighter than their bodies.

The important thing to note is this:

When wearing his mask, Meta Knight meets all the qualifications for Waddle Dees to consider him as another Dee.

Nobody has seen Meta Knight Without his mask.

When Meta Knight came to Dreamland, the first person he met was not the King, not Kirby, but a small patrol of Waddle Dees who had seen his small starship crash.

Inside was a strange Dee, one with weapons and armor forged in stardust, one with wings meant to soar on solar winds, but also one who was bleeding and one who needed help. The alien features this Waddle Dee had were not given a second glance once the patrolling group had decided this knight was one of their own.

Recovery had become tricky once the Waddle Dee herd had discovered Knight Dee did not speak Wanya. However through persuasive shows of kindness, and by Wise Waddle Dee giving basic language lessons, Knight Dee had accepted the hospitality. This was when Meta Knight truly began to become part of the family.

Previously, he had lived a mostly solitary life, devoid of kindness or comfort. The universe has been razed over by dark matter, nightmares, and other nameless wars; Popstar is an oasis. Being taken in by aliens who saved his life and still were kind when he tried to reject help struck a chord in him. Meta Knight would learn how to repay the kindness every one of these creatures had shown him.

Through the years, although Meta Knight was far more solitary than his companions, he had learned their names, even bonded with many. His closest companions are two Dees by the name of Sailor and Bandana, although he deeply appreciates them all. Meta will take time away from his travels of the universe to visit the Waddle Dee herd, helping or celebrating or giving them gifts.

The Knight eventually catches on that the Waddle Dees have always considered him another one of their species, and when he tried to come clean and correct them all, they still called him one of their family. Needless to say, Meta Knight is extremely fond of each and every Waddle Dee.

Years later, when a new king comes into power and employs the Waddle Dees into his help, King Dedede is sifting through registration records of all the Waddle Dees. Seeing a name marked down in as Knight Waddle Dee piques his curiosity—he really does need a knight for his new court. He summons this knight and is confused when he sees who answers. Why is this “Meta” guy marked down as a Waddle Dee? When King Dedede brings it up, offering the correct the paperwork, it’s met with denial from not only the Knight, but every other Dee in the room as well.

Realizing his mistake, The King apologizes and doesn’t bring it up again. Meta Knight won’t admit it out loud, but that had been the first straw which eventually lead to him attempting a takeover. He had become so used to unquestionably being considered a Waddle Dee, having that questioned made him furious.

Meta Knight’s familial attachment to the Dees is also why he is so serious about his role as a guardian in Forgotten Land. He blames himself deeply for failing to protect them initially and refused to rest until every one had been rescued. They all had a big cuddle pile and he also had to talk to Therapist Waddle Dee after that incident.

[rocorambles]

Surprise Interview

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Pseudo-Cest, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Verbal Humiliation, Manipulation

Summary: Kenma sees if you have what it takes to be Bouncing Ball’s newest employee.

A/N: This is for @sugawara-sweetheart ‘s Decadence Collab. So excited to be a part of this collab and to be able to indulge in such a delicious prompt and theme. Be sure to check out everyone else’s works! As always, thanks for beta-ing @sawamooora ~

There’s a familiar peace and a new nervousness about coming back home for the holidays. Mostly because home isn’t quite the same home it used to be. You can feel warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of seeing your mom, telling her about everything and everyone (as if your daily phone calls aren’t enough), and just lounging around while she fills you up with her cooking. But you can also feel a certain shyness as you approach the house, a building that still feels brand new and strange to you.

Your mother had gotten remarried during your earlier college years after your father’s passing and you were elated for her. If anyone deserves all the happiness in the world, it’s her. You had met Mr. Kozume quite a few times and you have no qualms with the man. He treats your mother like a queen and even though you playfully gag as they sweet talk and kiss in front of you, you wholeheartedly approve of their relationship.

However, what you aren’t quite as prepared for is having a new step-sibling.

You don’t know much about Kenma Kozume. Well, not much more than the rest of the world does.

Professional gamer. Successful stock trader. Popular YouTuber. Founder of his own corporation.

You know exactly who your new brother is, but other than seeing him a few times in person at family gatherings and exchanging polite greetings, there’s no real connection. Which is why your heart races as you nervously ring his doorbell, anxiety already making your leg twitch as you wait for the door to open.

Your mother and step-father are on a couple’s vacation and won’t be returning for a few days.

(“We just want some romantic time together before we have a full house again for the holidays. Plus this is a great chance to get to know your older brother better!” You hadn’t even been able to get a word of protest in before she had laughed and hung up on you, leaving you speechless and on your own as you hesitantly texted Kenma, letting him know what day to expect you.)

Kenma is quiet as ever as he nods in greeting, silently leading you to your guest room before quietly telling you to make yourself at home and leaving to do his own thing. You let out a huge sigh of relief as the door closes behind him.

There’s nothing wrong with Kenma. He’s smart and successful. Maybe a bit on the quiet side, but that only adds to his down to earth charm. You know your mother and step-father adore him and you can’t blame them. Yet, you can’t help but feel scrutinized, seen so clearly in a way that terrifies you when his feline eyes gaze at you. It takes everything in you not to immediately scurry away whenever you’re in viewing distance of him, desperate to hide all the flaws you imagine he’s noticing and calculating. Your step-father had mentioned how Kenma used to be the strategist of his high school volleyball team, and has always been able to evaluate and accurately break down situations and people. And you believe it.

You’re just grateful the house is large enough to avoid each other and that Kenma tends to reside mostly in his home office and bedroom.

But even the founder of a company needs a break from time to time. Kenma shuffles towards the gaming room, only to blink in surprise when he sees you already inside of it, happily smiling as Animal Crossing visuals and sounds fill the space.

He had known you owned a Nintendo Switch, a piece of information your mom had shared to break the ice a bit. And it’s really no surprise that this is your go-to game. But knowing and seeing are two different things and he can’t help but let his own lips twitch upwards at how calm and relaxed you are tending to your garden, decorating your home, choosing your outfit.

Kenma’s never been good with people, has never been the one to initiate a friendship. He knows he should have made more of an effort to be friendly and welcoming to you as your new older brother. There’s a slight pang of regret in his chest when he sees how at ease you are while you’re unaware of his presence. His eyes are as sharp as ever and he locks in on the way your body slightly stiffens, fingers nervously fidgeting when you finally notice his figure in the doorway, words already stuttering an apology for using his game room without explicitly asking.

You look like a scared mouse about to flee from the claws of a cat. And it pisses him off.

He hasn’t made the best efforts to bridge the gap between you, but for you to fear him? That seems a tad unnecessary, and more than a tad insulting. It’s more than enough to make the sadistic streak in him want to give you something to be scared about.

But he’s never been impulsive and he just quietly sits beside you on the floor, reassuring you it’s fine to play, smirking when you sneak little side glances his way as you continue collecting fruits.

“Kozume, do you want to play-”

“Just call me Kenma.”

Entranced eyes watch as you grow flustered at his words, mouth silently testing the weight of his given name in your mouth. For once, Kenma could care less about playing video games when a shaky timid “Kenma” slips past your soft lips.

“Kenma, do you want to play something together?”

You have no idea how badly he really does want to play together, but it’s a game you’re not ready for. So he calls upon any restraint he has to pluck your device from your hands and change the game to Mario Kart.

It’s amusing how easily you soften besides him, brow furrowing in concentration, eyes intently and eagerly following the screen, any anxiousness quickly forgotten as you get into the game. He greedily watches as you pout when you make a mistake, as your eyes light up every time you pass someone.

If he had known how easy it would be to make you warm up to him, he’d have done this sooner and he genuinely laughs when you whine and fake glare at him as he wins yet another round.

He asks about school. You ask about work. He tells you about his childhood. You share your own stories.

It’s a comfortable rhythmic back and forth and he’s afraid of ruining it, but a certain question nags at his mind, a question he knows may ruin the entire flow of the conversation.

“You’ll be graduating soon. Have you decided what you want to do after college?”

“Kenma not you too!!!”

His shoulders relax at how well you react to the question, smiling at the way you flop onto your back and groan about how mom and dad are already on your case about future plans.

“I’ve been applying to places, but who knows. Maybe I’ll just work for you at Bouncing Ball.”

There’s a playful lilt in your voice when you say it, a giggle and teasing smile accompanying the words. But there’s nothing funny about it to Kenma and your smile falters a bit when you see how tightly Kenma’s gripping his controller, the way his eyes pin you down.

“Kenma? It’s just a joke. I would never take advantage of-”

You try to get up from your reclined position, only to whimper in confusion when Kenma’s hand on your shoulder forces you back down. And suddenly you’re pinned down by more than just his stare as he moves to straddle you, knees on either side of your body, hands next to your head, his whole body caging yours.

It’s a lighthearted joke in the family that if all else fails, you could always work at Bouncing Ball. A joke your step-father and mother always dish out when the arguments get too tense as the three of you talk about your future. But it’s become less in jest for Kenma, especially after Kuroo sent him a scandalous picture of his newest secretary kneeling between his long legs, lips wrapped around his cock.

It wasn’t the first picture, nor was it the last incriminating photo the older businessman had sent him. Kenma merely rolled his eyes before deleting the image from his phone, wondering when Kuroo would grow bored and find a new toy to play with. But he freezes when he sees the following text message from his long-time friend.

“You’re the CEO of a company, Kenma. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone convenient around? A pretty warm body? I bet that cute new step sister of yours would look really good under your desk. Doesn’t she graduate from college soon? If you don’t make a move, maybe I’ll snatch her up right from under your nose. I’m due for a change of secretary soon.”

There’s absolutely no reason for the hot anger that lances through him at Kuroo’s taunting words and he grimaces at playing right into his ex-captain’s hands, already hearing Kuroo’s braying laughter in his head if the older man saw just how much his words affected him.

But initial irritation aside, he lets himself really think, really imagine what a life with you at his beck and call would be like. And he likes what he sees. He doesn’t delete Kuroo’s photos as quickly as he used to, replacing the female faces with yours in his imagination as his hands slip under the hem of his boxers.

He knows it’s a longshot, knows there’s a high chance you’ll continue your lives as is, never destined to exchange more than a few polite greetings at family outings. But now...now hearing you voice the idea out loud yourself, hearing the way his first name sounds from your lips…

Maybe it’s not the silly pipe dream he had believed it to be.

“I’m in need of an assistant if you really do want to work at Bouncing Ball, but you’d need to prove why it would be worth hiring you.”

He almost laughs at how you perk up despite the precarious position you’re in, almost ready to launch into an elevator pitch of your qualifications flat on your back underneath him. You’re quite the multitasker already and he groans at the thought of having you cockwarm him while he tests out a new video game, making you answer all his calls stuffed full of him and desperately trying to hide the lustful tremble in your voice.

But he’s not here to listen to your carefully crafted speech. (Guess you really were practicing for job interviews like you said you were. What a good girl.) And he firmly presses his lips against yours to silence you, taking his time to immerse himself in the way your mouths mold against each other.

Your taste, your smell, your warmth. It’s all intoxicating and he slips his tongue inside your parted lips, subtly rutting his groin against your body. He can feel your body jostle as you lift your arms and he waits for the weight of your arms to lovingly wrap around his neck, only to be shocked when you weakly press against his shoulders until he finally relents and pulls back just enough to look down at you in irritated confusion.

“We- we shouldn’t be doing this.”

It’s not the words that have him clenching his fists, not even the way your palms still timidly press against him in a laughably weak show of defense.

It’s the fear in your eyes, the way you look at him like he’s some monster. It's the way he can almost palpably feel and hear your desire to be anywhere other than here, with anyone other than him, wishing to put as much space between the two of you as possible.

It’s your rejection.

It hurts to know that he isn’t enough just as he is, that he needs to resort to less...savory and straightforward ways to entrap you. But he’s not Hinata or Kuroo. He doesn’t have an electrifying personality or roguishly handsome features and charm to woo you. He only has his cunning and sharp tongue.

And he fully intends on maximizing his gifts.

“Of course, you don’t have to. You can just keep on applying and getting rejected by every company you speak to, if they even bother meeting with you after seeing your pathetic resume. Average college. Average grades. Average major. Tell me, how many interviews have you actually been reached out to for?”

He’s going out on a bit of a limb, but his suspicions are right and he cruelly smirks at the way tears bubble in your eyes at his words, no comeback or denial rolling off the tip of your tongue. He had a feeling you were struggling from the bits and pieces he’s picked up as your parents quietly talk and fret over you actually being able to find a job after graduation.

“Our parents are too nice to say anything about it, but you know they’re disappointed in you, right? Have you noticed how they always avoid talking about how school is going or asking you about how job hunting is going? How they only ask me how work is going? It’s because they know you’re just a loser whose life is going to amount to nothing.”

“That’s not true! They love me-”

“I’m not saying they don’t love you, but doesn’t that make it even worse? Making your loving and caring parents worry and stress over you when they should be preparing for retirement, an easy life? Instead of letting them finally enjoy a carefree life, you’ll be their freeloader daughter who uses up all their remaining funds. Is that what you want?”

You really are too easy and his lips curl in satisfaction at the way you frantically shake your head side to side, fat wet drops streaming down your face, adorable sniffles filling the air.

“If you become my assistant, I’ll compensate you well. You can live here with me, have your own room, a roof over your head, all the food and clothing you need and want. Think about how relieved and happy our parents will be seeing you provided for, seeing us getting along. Isn’t that what you want? For them to be happy?”

He knows how close you are to your mom, how important this idea of a perfect family is to you. He knows how insecurity and doubt about your own capabilities torment you. And he knows you’re hooked on his claws when your hands that are still pressed against his shoulders drop limply besides you, not even a hint of resistance left in you when he leans down once more to rest his forehead on yours, one hand cupping the side of your face.

“This is all you’re good for anyway. Working underneath me.”

If you notice his pun, you don’t acknowledge it, too busy wincing and squirming as he harshly nips and bites a trail from your lips to your neck as he pushes up the hem of your shirt until your chest is on full display for him. There’s something experimental, cold, meticulous about the way he gropes and fondles your breasts.Your face heats in humiliation at how he treats you like one of the many game consoles he’s reviewed for his audience.

But you don’t do anything about it, telling yourself that this is just his version of an interview as he pinches and prods at you, meanly twisting your nipples and chuckling at your yelp of pain. You obediently let him spread your legs apart, only letting out an agonized cry as he tests your flexibility, staring at him with a trembling lower lip as he sharply tells you to shut up while scrutinizing your panty-covered sex.

“You really are made for this, aren’t you?”

You whimper as he nudges the small wet spot on the thin fabric, clenching your eyes shut in denial at how hot and wound up your body feels from his touch, unable to hide your gasp as he pulls the layer aside and rubs your aroused clit.

There’s something so different about the way his fingers slowly sink into your wet pussy, almost lazily curling against your soft walls, his thumb never stopping its careful massage on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. So different from your own fingers desperately thrusting in and out of you. So different from the drunk partners you’ve hooked up with at college and their sloppy, rapid, frantic movements.

You can feel something large, something intimidating slowly rising from deep inside of you, a volcano about to erupt compared to the bright and fast to fade shooting stars you’re used to. You’re scared. Scared of the intoxicating feeling, of how easy it is to grow accustomed to Kenma’s presence, of how his cat-like eyes are all you can see and think of.

How can something feel so wrong and so right at the same time?

That’s the last coherent thought you have before your world goes blank, pleasure rocking through you as you soak the carpet and your step-brother’s hand with your juices. You’re moaning as Kenma continues to rock his fingers in and out of you, fingertips insistently massaging your clit and g-spot as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling and convulsing.

But even when the tremors slow, when pleasure becomes something sharper, more overwhelming, he doesn’t stop. You wail, begging him to stop, to let you rest, slumping in relief when he finally drags his hands away from you, carelessly wiping the mess you’ve made of his hand on your skin, covering you in your own essence.

Your heavy eyelids threaten to flutter shut as you let exhaustion wash over you, already dreading having to get up and wash yourself. But you’re shocked back to reality as something hard begins to nudge at your still fluttering entrance.

“Kenma! No! Too much-”

You break off into a sob as surprisingly strong hands dig into your hips, holding you still as he pushes and pushes until he’s fully settled inside of you, balls resting against your ass.

You’re still so tight, your quivering walls clamping around the intrusion, and he groans at the thought of being able to sink into this hole every day, multiple times, whenever he wants. His cock is already aching from holding off for so long, from watching your body and face contorted in pleasure. Kenma can feel his end quickly approaching as you scream and wail underneath him, eyes rolling back in your head, drool trickling from the corner of your mouth. You look absolutely obscene and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this side of you.

But despite the way his balls are tightening, despite the stutter in his hips, he’s determined to watch you fall apart once more, to see you shatter to pieces yet again. He grits his teeth, fingers reaching down to furiously rub at your already oversensitized clit, reveling in how your back arches, thighs shaking in overstimulation, and then you snap.

He wonders what his parents would think of their dear dumb daughter now, looking nothing like their silly angel, looking like a wanton used whore, incoherent garbled noises slipping past your lips as you twitch uncontrollably, your pussy milking him dry as he cums inside of you.

There’s only silence mixed with your pitiful whimpers as he slides out of you, grimacing at the sticky mess you’ve made of yourself and him. But that’s what your other hole is for and he orders you to suck him clean, admiring what a quick learner you are, eager to please as you noisily slurp and lick him clean, moaning at the taste of your combined fluids...

Maybe too eager and he shoves you off of him when you become too enthusiastic, his cock beginning to twitch in interest once more.

You look so lost, still sprawled out on the ground, staring up at him with wide imploring eyes as he pulls up his pants. So vulnerable and in need of guidance.

Good thing you have such a great boss to manage you.

“Not bad. Consider these next few days your internship and if all goes well, I’ll be more than happy to hire you as Bouncing Ball’s newest employee this summer. Now clean up this room and show me that my future assistant can do more than just be a slut.”

[the-sage-of-dissolution]

I unlocked a new type of fanfiction for me: reddit posts from fictional characters

AITA for expecting my rival to share grapes with me after we both fell off a cliff?

I (39M) and my rival (??M) are both working in the same field. He stole all of my clients and regularly makes me look bad in front of the whole town. My business and life are ruined because of him.

To get back at him I told people about his secret past. I got a tad emotional after no one seemed to care that he completely lacks all qualifications for his job and lied to them for years.

My rival then tackled me to “save“ me from falling off some cliffs even though I wasn't even that close to the edge. Because of his extra weight the ground beneath us crumbled and we both fell. It was his fault really.

Besides, we were rescued pretty quickly and he was mostly fine.

As a peace offering and token of gratitude I wanted to go the hospital and bring him grapes for the two of us to share, as one does in this type of situation.

My employee/sister (??F) told me to leave him alone and my best friend (4F) agreed with her!

I had already bought the very expensive grapes, so I couldn't change my mind anyway.

I managed to give my rival the grapes (even with my sister annoying me the whole way to the hospital). He refused to share them with me and threw me out of the hospital room while screaming obscenities.

My sister has been bothering me non-stop and clearly thinks I am at fault. I don't know what I could have done differently. So AITA?

Edit 1: My assistant (??F) tells me I cannot tell the internet about my rival's former secret job or his name, so I changed it.

Edit 2: I was once mixed up in a plot to take my rival's life, completely against my will and without fault. I don't know what that has to do with anything, but some commenters think it is relevant.

[thespineoftherighteous]

foxes being college kids

while the mob wars and sports and whatnot are absolutely delicious, there isn’t nearly enough regular college life shit in the books so i’d like to offer the following to make up for it:

aaron having a total dick of a professor and he finds out that dan had him as well and they just bitch out over him together

it’s a new semester and matt has never been in this building before and he cant find his classroom and turns out he’s on the wrong side of campus

instead of trying to make it to his class, he just says fuck it and spends the hour playing with, Luca, the therapy dog he found in that building

nicky telling neil about some 'shortcut' in one of the buildings and they end up getting locked in a stairwell and have to call one of the others to get them out

half of the foxes beefing with the other athletes of the school

(like neil, kevin and allison for some reason all have an ongoing rivalry with the soccer players and it is not made better by the fact that neil and kevin both have better footwork than most of them. someone once asked neil if he was "that one redheaded player on the school soccer team" and he just reeled back in horror)

certain foxes catching each other in a lounge or the library before class and then convincing each other to hang out and not go to class

nicky saying that he's dropping out like six times a week

matt and neil joking about the group of kids doing yoga on the grass before they notice renee in the back of the group and tease her about it later (Matt joins her the following week)

Andrew knowing where every single vending machine on campus is

Nicky finding a Quizlet with all the answers for his take home exam and nearly crying out of delight

kevin accidentally locking his phone in those charging station/locker things and fighting with it aggressively before having to go ask for help

neil having beef with the school mascot

hanging out in empty classrooms and getting chased out by the same angry, ancient janitor who seems to be out for all of them

aaron immediately dropping any class if the professor says that they can’t take notes on their laptops

aaron being that kid who watches shows under the pretense of taking notes on his laptop

(only in the classes he doesn’t particularly care for, mind you)

nicky taking an intro level psych course but using it as a qualification to gravely psychoanalyze the foxes

he also declares himself Betsy’s protegee...and then never took another psych class again

(*literally any of the foxes*: does something wrong or random. Nicky: if you want my professional opinion, this sort of behavior is usually a result of buried or unacknowledged trauma. the foxes: .... nooo..." or or or *after a game* Nicky: Neil your pupils are dilated and I hate to tell you this but that's usually a tell of lust or desire and I'm flattered, really, but I'm a taken man and also you're dating my cousin so I don't think it'll work out. Neil: Nicky I'm concussed.)

renee being well known around the school without knowing it and mostly she's seen as some pastel- colored ethereal being because those are the vibes she gives off but also, legend has it that if you pass by or catch a glimpse of Renee Walker before an exam it'll bring you good luck

matt sitting in class for half an hour before realizing that he's in the wrong place and has never taken an anthro course in his life

andrew quizzing Kevin on flashcards when they're the only two left awake and Kevin doesn't mention the pint of Ben and Jerry's Andrew is slowly working his way through

their conversations developing into more when Andrew starts making comments about some of the topics and Kevin responds half earnestly, half exasperatedly

dan changing her major (or at least debating changing her major) like twice a week

andrew being that son of a bitch who seemingly doesn’t pay attention at all (dude doesn’t even bring a bag to class) and teachers try to trip him up by asking questions but he always knows what’s going on

neil having one (1) notebook and one (1) pen that he uses all semester. which is good, which is fine but my guy still lugs a massive backpack around and when the others ask him wtf is in it he just pulls out all this random shit including but not limited to: three different flavors of gum, two exy balls, an assortment of snacks, an extra pair of trainers and a travel neck pillow

renee regularly getting free drinks from starbucks because the barista is smitten by her

Matt paying for a chegg account and the others find out and suddenly everyone is using it

neil knowing where all the best food vendors around campus are (courtesy of his runs)

Allison one time scrolling on her phone in class and clicking on a video and music starts blaring out (if she was anyone other than allison mf reynolds she would have been mortified...though dan still did find her banging her head repeatedly against the table later)

aaron literally not knowing how to find a book in the library but he hates talking to librarians so he will sit in the same aisle for half an hour seething cause "i know you're around here somewhere you motherfucker". (Matt has witnessed Aaron come home cursing Dewey and his decimal system many, many times)

the upperclassmen handing down books for core classes to the monsters so they don’t have to buy them cause that shit expensive and for what (k they might be covered by their scholarships but whatever)

the foxes are all oblivious to this but I feel like the whole student body has all these conspiracy theories or even just rumors running about the exy team, not just because of the news articles linking them to the yakuza or because they somehow went from last to first in their league, but because they've each built a reputation for themselves among the students (whether it's Kevin being known as the one who starts arguments with the teachers that they can't win or Neil for telling the mascot to square up in the middle of the courtyard or Andrew for just appearing out of nowhere all over campus like a blond groundhog) and they all just contribute to the mystery that is palmetto state university's exy team

[xamaxenta]

Also, maybe, if it's okay, Luffy's? Egg situations?? Please?? 😳😳

If you’re into zolu or lawlu I have two options but imma do zolu first 🥺 bc i have a soft spot for them which I dont talk about much

Luffy looks as he does currently (timeskip luff) but with the same featurs as Ace, pointed ears, slit pupiled eyes, fangs, digitigrade legs and paw feet

Luffy’s a rare wyverian hunter who isn’t at the commission base to do admin or research like Ace and Sabo, his weapon choice is also the insect glaive because its the closest thing to steel pipe and he loves big bugs - he loves training with Marco fellow bug enthusiast, pineapple commander haha

Sabo and Ace are masters of their chosen weapons and mostly train for rampages (Sabo’s chief of supplies and stuff its a big boy job haha hes the motherfucker with the dragonator) but normally they don’t go hunting like Luffy does who has the qualifications etc

Luffy hunting with Zoro (long sword user ofc) and ends up having his heat in the middle of the goddamn forest… cue Zoro having to run with Luffy taking him away and out of danger to hide away in a little cave, it’s damp and musty and horrible but Luffy doesn’t care, Zoro doesn’t know what to do so he fires an SOS flare to let other hunters take over the fight, they can’t give up on the chance to take out the rathalos in the area, just like how Zoro can’t give up on the chance that he can help Luffy, stubbornly he thinks he can only protect Luffy in this difficult situation, make sure nothing finds them and traps them but Luffy ends up begging for him to help, he can smell how Zoro wants to and so Zoro does

Back at the base Ace and Sabo rushing over to an unconscious Luffy in Zoros arms like what happened?!? We saw the flare, sent Marco and Izou to help you both, you never ask for help—

Ace sees how Luffy looks like oh. OH. Sabo also catching up and getting in Zoros face like what happened don’t tell me you took advantage of him and Zoros snarling back like no he ASKED

Its very convoluted for a bit because Luffy is out for a while but when he wakes up he reassures his brothers everything was okay he and zoro are now mated <3

[bunni-teeth81]

Slender bros rewritten by me

Cause I want character development

(This is mostly Offender, trender, and Splendor. Also if you like Slendey/slender dad you might not wanna read this cause I do not make him a good guy in the slightest)

Possible tw for mention sexual assault, pedolophilia, necrophilia, and zoophilia!

To start off, Offender is not a rapist, he isn’t a pedo, and he doesn’t fuck animals

He doesn’t do anything without consent, plain and simple. Him being all those things was a rumor started by someone he fucked in the past who got caught cheating. They said Offender forced them and the rumors have escalated since with his legend.

He actively avoids children cause he doesn’t like them. So he literally couldn’t be a pedo.

He doesn’t hate kids, he just prefers to not be around them.

He won’t fuck someone with kids unless the kids are out of the house and somewhere safe.

He’s wary about fucking 18 and 19 year olds and usually doesn’t

Occasionally if he sees a kid sad while he’s on a walk or whatever he’ll give them some daisies or something. Though they kinda just appear near the kid. He doesn’t actually go near them.

Though he will fuck old people. He has no problem with that. But he will go gentler cause they’re frail

He likes animals, but not like that. Like.. ew

He has a kind of respect for the dead, even people he’s killed to eat, so he’d never do that. Also it goes back to the consent thing. They can’t consent so he ain’t gonna fuck them.

He’s pansexual.

He’s very kinky, obviously. He’s willing to do pretty much anything in bed

He prefers to top but he has no problem being pegged-

Has tried every drug there is.

Usually just sticks to weed, alcohol, crack, shrooms, and the occasional LSD

Bath salts fucked him up majorly and he will never do them again.

He works for trender, who has a whole ass company (will be touched on later)

He helps trender make clothes for more alt styles (punk, grunge, goth, emo, all that good stuff) and he helps with lingerie (masc and fem. trender makes both. Offender tests it out and gives feedback on what could be added or changed)

He also finds models for Trender (there’s really no qualifications to be a model, you kinda just have to want to be one. Trender, his assistants, and other models will help fill new models in. And they never have to wear something they don’t want or pose a way that makes them uncomfortable. also theres do discrimination when it comes to models, any one of any race, body type, gender (or lack there of), sexuality, and age to an extent (depending on the clothes being modeled and (if parent permission is needed if they get it)) are welcome)

He also does side jobs like art (he does realistic art) plays piano or violin for songs, every so often he’ll join a strip club. Definitely has an OF.

He learned piano from his dad. Their dad made them all learn piano. His dad was very against him learning violin but his mother let him learn it (she knew how to play)

Their parents kept them pretty reserved from the rest of the world (particularly humans) for safety reasons. The brothers didn’t find out they were the only ones of their kind till they were like teens and went hunting for the first time.

Their parents suddenly disappeared when they were teens. They still haven’t found them and have no idea what happened to them.

Zalgo killed them cause the dad was constantly fighting him, so was the mom but less so.

There were originally 5 brothers, but one got murdered (It was Tenderman. Who wouldve been the oldest, then slender, offender and trender are twins, then splendor)

They don’t know how tender was murdered. All they know is they can be murdered. They still haven’t figured out how tho.

They do know that they can regenerate any part of their body (teeth and nails grow back almost instantly, limbs take longer, they can just put their head where it should be and the bone, muscle, skin, tissue and all that will pull back together, skin can either regenerate in about an hour or two or a couple days depending on the size of the wound. Their organs can regenerate but it takes like a month.)

Drugs don’t effect them the same way they do us. Our massive hangovers that put us out of commission is what happens after they do LSD. A regular hangover for us is what happens when they do coke or a drink shit ton of alcohol.

Offender has the highest tolerance, then it’s trender, splendor, and Slender has the lowest cause he hasn’t done drugs.

Splendor has tried them but doesn’t like doing them. He doesn’t drink much either.

Trender will do them every so often, usually with Offender. He either drinks or smokes a blunt usually. Shrooms are for special occasions, and LSD gives him major anxiety so he doesn’t do it.

Trender and Offender were the only ones to try bath salts. They don’t know what happened. Splendor says they disappeared for a month and murdered a shit ton of people. They almost got caught. And at some point Offender ate a whole ass headstone and took a chunk out of a mausoleum

Slender hunts whenever the hell he wants, he doesn’t care about being caught

Offender hunts every couple of months or so

Trender hunts about 2 times a year. He spreads out his food pretty evenly

Splendor hates hunting and usually Offender or Trender will do it for them. They’ll maybe hunt once a year.

Human food to them is like sweets to us. They can’t live off it but it’ll keep them from starving. If they don’t eat human for about 3-4 years they’ll start to starve, but the process is slow and would probably take a while to actually kill them

Trender, Splendor, and Offender try not to get caught or make suspicions rise. They just wanna live their lives.

The amount of people they consume and how long they stay in their human form determines their power levels.

Slender is the most powerful, then Splendor, Offender, and Trender is the least powerful (but they’re all still mega powerful)

Slender is never in his human form and consumes humans whenever he wants so he has nothing holding back his power

Splendor may not eat human much but they’re rarely ever in his human form. And if they are it’s not for more than an hour usually

Offender is in his human form about 50% of the time. He’s in his normal form at home or hunting and any other time he’s human so-

Trender is in his human form like 90% of the time since he spends most of his time at work (he’s a workaholic to the highest extent. When it becomes really bad is when Offender will step in and be like “hey let’s grab a drink and chill out”)

Offender and Slender’s relationship is like Raph and Leo’s from tmnt if their relationship was genuine hatred and violent

Splendor tries to med their relationship and makes times where they all hang out and have dinner together but to no avail

This is the only time Slender can be seen in his human form. He doesn’t want to go but for some reason he does

Slender is stuck in his ways

Their dad hated humans with a passion, and Slender looked up to their father and wanted to be exactly like him so the hatred rubbed off

Slender blames humans for his parents disappearing and Tender’s death. Tender was the brother he bonded with the most

Splendor used to be a really emotional kid and their father hated that so now they bottle up everything

Their mother tried to help as best she could

V support

Trender’s company is a fashion company that produces just about everything

And the sizes go up to 4 or 5 x

And the prices are reasonable and don’t go up with the size

Trender really doesn’t give to shits about money. If he could he’d just give everything he makes away but unfortunately he needs some money to produce what he makes.

He makes kids clothing, teens clothing, adults clothing in every aesthetic you can think of. Rarely will you see basic shit from him

He makes jewelry (real and fake (for the kiddies) and specifies very obviously which is which so someone doesn’t accidentally buy the wrong one)

He makes shoes!

His prices are usually around 10-25 dollars for clothing, sometimes 30 if it’s a specific brand (like Gorillaz or something. He doesn’t work with brands like Victoria secret, brands that have sweat shops, things like that. He doesn’t support them whatsoever)

His business is huge but he always listens to the people and tries to improve. And all his products are made ethically. He tries in every way possible to produce good products without polluting the earth more

Splendor usually only hangs around babies-young adults. They help them through rough home lives, trauma, and helps them find joy. They do everything they can to make them feel better

Splendor is the one who takes care of Sally. And they feels incredibly guilty for not being able to stop what happened to her, or punish her uncle himself.

Animals and mystical creatures are drawn to them and their home. They go to it for shelter and safety, as well as some food. But because Splendor isn’t always there they have a nymph friend there to look after everything.

Slenderman is the only one with proxies

Splendor is demisexual and bi, leaning towards men

Trender is queer and demisexual/demiromantic

Slender doesn’t love anything. Ever.

Trender gets annoyed easily but rarely ever gets pissed pissed (like original face altering pissed) if he does it’s either cause someone did something to his brothers or his models. And the unfortunate soul who did such will never be seen again afterwards

Offender doesn’t really get pissed pissed cause he usually either bottles it up or makes a joke out of it. It’s really only if something happens to his brothers that he gets pissed pissed.

Splendor has a list of people they wish they could rip to shreds. All of them parents. But they don’t want to do that to the children. They only intervenes and gets pissed pissed when the abuse gets physical or sexual. When it’s physically they’ll give the parent one change to never do that again. They’ll scare the shit outta them but won’t hurt them. If it’s sexual they kill them. Plain and simple.

Splendor started wearing pokadots to make the kids happy. Trender hates the suit but doesn’t comment usually

Splendor’s black hands are a skin disease their species can have. The skin is black and kinda ridged.

Splendor wears gloves because of their skin disease. the blood stains and they can’t get it out. Also they’re very insecure about their disease

Splendor put the bells on their tendrils so their movements didn’t scare the kids. They would always know when he was moving and where he was moving to so they’d be more comfortable. It was painful but it was worth it

Slender was in the woods when he was younger and almost got attacked by humans, but his mother came and saved him. (Her tendrils could be used as a shield)

Eden is not related to the brothers.

But eden looks a lot like their mother, so much so that Spendor legitimately mistakes her for their mother.

Slender’s human name is John (splendor had to come up with it on the spot leave them be)

Offender’s human name is Dimitri and I’ll die on this hill

Splendor’s human name is Faer

Trender’s human name is Quael

They can change their physical appearance to be fem or masc. like their body can change.

Slender doesn’t give two shits about pronouns

Offender doesn’t care but he/they/xem works

Trender goes by he/him

Splendor goes by they/them

(Im including Slenderwoman now so uh... 🤷)

Her hair is her tendrils.

She’s not part of the Slender bro family nor does she know they exist (though eventually she will. She’s way younger than them so)

✨Lesbian✨

Has met Slenderman tho. She hates him

Like genuinely hates his guts

She hates almost sharing a name with him.

Prefers to go by her human name; Eden

As long as you don’t use the pronouns he/him she doesn’t care.

She just kinda... appeared at the ripe age of 4? (She doesn’t remember anything past 4 so that’s what if feels like to her.)

Splendor is a switch and you can’t change my mind

Trender is also a switch

Slender doesn’t get any cause he’d kill them, purposely or not, being radioactive and all.

Eden is a top but can bottom is convinced

Offender, Splendor, Trender, and Eden can all control their radiation output so they can glitch tech when they chose and won’t hurt anyone

Slender could but doesn’t want to 🤷

They can be killed by their hearts getting impaled. The reason they don’t know that is because the skin will heal, but the heart can’t.

Offenderman’s real name isn’t Offenderman. That name was dubbed to him when people believed the rumors of him. But he kept it. He can’t really explain why but he did. And now he forgets it’s not his real name sometimes. Though he does prefer to go by Offender/Smexy.

Splendor calls him Offendy and he’s the only one allowed to do so

Trended has four arms, plus his tendrils. He can hide his second pair of arms like his tendrils but it takes energy

Getting their limbs/tendrils cut off only stings to them. They’re only in full on pain when their organs are involved

Eden’s blood has healing properties.

Someone can be turned immortal by being injected with one of the brother’s (or Eden’s) blood in large amounts. It’s extremely painful though.

Doing it slowly can ease the pain, so doing it over a week’s time nonstop will get the job done.

The injected person will be very weak after it for a couple days. A week. 2 weeks in worse cases.

The only one who’s done this is Splendor. They were dating a guy for a very long time and they told him about the procedure and he wanted it. After gaining back his strength he left Splendor. They’re not entirely over this even though it happened a long time ago.

They (mainly Offender and Trender) had to track him down and kill him. (Ya know, heart stuff)

That’s when they figured that’s probably how they could get murdered 

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

I genuinely do not know how to engage with the Loki fandom anymore without regularly tanking my mental health, and I have no idea what to do about it.

the thing about my brain is that it sucks, see, and one of the big ways in which it sucks is that it is incredibly easy for me to miserably fixate on anything that upsets me, which then often expands to include all kinds of other tangentially related things that also upset me, thereby becoming a very bad spiral even if the thing that originally upset me was objectively not a huge deal. (I’m also really, really good at catastrophizing, which just accelerates the whole process.) at best, I then find it completely possible to do much of anything, like work on anything creative, or do my actual job that pays my actual bills, or in general remember that anything good can ever happen again. about all I can do to reset my brain when that happens is to ignore every single one of my responsibilities and do something really distracting like playing a game so my brain is engaged in something other than eating itself alive, or maybe just take a sleeping pill and go to bed. (if neither is an option, then it just sucks even more.)

for reasons that I certainly hope are obvious, that’s something I prefer to avoid.

the thing about Loki is, he’s been my absolute favorite character for about a decade now. he’s my comfort character. I can’t reliably write anything except Loki fic (which would be enough of a personal investment even if I hadn’t written a fic or two that helped me deal with the death of my dog a few years ago and my generally unhealthy feelings about death as a concept, but I did that too). I’ve spent a not-inconsiderable amount of money--again, over the past decade--on my collection of Loki stuff because it makes me happy, and I’ve invested probably even more thought and emotion than money into this character. Loki, in general, is very important to me, if for no other reason than that he’s been part of my life for a long time.

and the thing about the Loki show specifically is, I mostly like it. in part this is because I want to like it, because I’m invested for all the reasons mentioned above. there have been aspects of every episode so far that I’ve enjoyed without reservation or qualification...and there have been aspects of every episode so far that have made me cringe or genuinely upset me for one reason or another. but because I want to like it, and because I have that tendency to fixate on things that upset me in a way that makes me absolutely miserable and renders my brain completely useless for doing anything except continuing to be upset, it is genuinely unhealthy for me to spend much time at all reading negativity about the show.

some of the criticism I don’t totally understand and that’s less of an issue, but a lot of it has merit, a lot pretty obviously comes from a place of actual pain, and there’s a lot I agree with (or at least understand even if a specific thing doesn’t bother me as much). so if I read much of it, I will fixate. I will lose sleep. I will be pretty much unable to do things I actually need or want to do. if I want to avoid those things, it’s not enough just to avoid reading really intense criticism of the show; I have to actively seek out positive opinions, both to reinforce my enjoyment of things I already liked and to provide additional viewpoints on things I didn’t particularly like on first watch so I can keep myself from fixating on them (which my brain is quite happy to do on its own, without even seeing specifically negative posts, so you can probably imagine how much worse my brain gets having the negative opinions reinforced).

like--maybe this all sounds kind of silly, I don’t know, but I’ve lived with this garbage brain for more than three decades and I have a pretty good idea of how it works, at least in terms of what makes it even more garbage. to take care of my mental health, I have to approach certain things in certain ways, and I’m...working on not feeling like that’s silly all by itself. in this specific case, that means avoiding a lot of the negativity and making an effort to seek out positive opinions. as long as people tag appropriately, that shouldn’t be hard, right?

well you’d think so, except actually no, because I’ve had the worst time finding people who like the show and don’t also spend a significant amount of their time dumping on fans who hate the show or just, like, have any issues at all with any aspect of it for any reason. it starts to feel like people think that if you’re not worshiping at Marvel’s feet and loving every second of everything in this massive profit-driven franchise, then you are deluded, whiny, entitled, stupid, sadistic, or some combination of the above. and you know what, maybe it’s weird but I absolutely find that just as upsetting as negativity about the show itself. constantly seeing that stuff is equally bad for my mental health, equally likely to make me miserably fixate on it and lead to a spiral of “everything is bad and hopeless and nothing will ever get better in literally any aspect of life so why even bother trying?”

for reasons that I once again hope are obvious, I still want to avoid that! regardless of the cause! and apparently...I don’t have that option. people typically don’t tag criticism of criticism, or at least not with anything specific enough to be really useful, and it sure seems like I can’t look for the positive opinions that help me enjoy the show and avoid unhappily fixating on things I didn’t like, while also avoiding the negative opinions about other fans that also get me unhappily fixated on things that upset me. so the only alternative is, what, take several steps back from fandom entirely? well, I’d have to stop using Tumblr at all for at least a couple weeks, probably avoid the finale for quite a while, stop writing for the most part because Loki fic is too tied up in the overall fandom and I struggle too much with writing anything else, stop reading most fic for the same reason, stop working on customizing any Funko figures or other action figures that aren’t just for Etsy, and generally give up a lot of things that make me happy. weirdly enough, I don’t want to do that either. 

if everyone in this fandom 1) tagged appropriately and consistently and 2) stopped being unnecessarily mean to and about their fellow human beings, I’m pretty sure it would be basically fine. and of course there’s no possible way I can make that happen. if I want to keep enjoying something that does genuinely make me happy often enough to be worthwhile to me, it seems like I just have to choose between two different types of mental-health minefields rather than, you know, being able to avoid all the mines.

so what am I supposed to do with that?

(this is...more or less okay to reblog if you’ve felt at all the same way, wherever you might fall in your opinions about the show itself, as long as you make sure to not be an asshole about it to anyone. this is not the place to talk about how much you hate the show, and it is also not the place to talk about how awful Those Whiny Fans are. take that somewhere else and for god’s sake put a useful tag on it.)

[bluejayblueskies]

Could you do "things you said at 1 am" for MarTim? Romantic or platonic is good. I'm loving all these prompt fics so much!

warning for some discussion of canon-typical worms

.

Tim sets the box of Martin’s things at the foot of the cot in document storage and makes a show of shaking out his arms and hands, even though it really hadn’t been that heavy. Mostly clothes and toiletries and other necessary amenities—though Tim had snuck in a small faux-leather notebook and a picture frame depicting a family he assumed to be Martin’s standing in front of the sea. Martin couldn’t have been more than five in the picture, but Tim recognized his auburn curls and button nose.

 If Martin’s going to be stuck in the Archives for the foreseeable future, he may as well have something personal to keep him company, Tim figures. So, he’d packed it away, gathered the rest of the items on the list Martin had provided him with, and brought it all back to the Archives. Sasha was already gone by the time he arrived, and Jon’s office door was shut, though a thin line of light escaped from below it.

 He’s been working later and later, Tim’s noticed. And if the cot already tucked away in document storage is anything to go by, he’s also been spending less and less time at his flat.

 “There we are,” Tim says, flashing Martin a warm smile. “You’re all set to live in the company of hundreds of years’ worth of dusty documents. Not exactly bedtime stories—unless you prefer the spooky sort—but, you know…”

 Tim trails off with a small shrug. There’s an ache beneath it, one that grows stronger when Martin curls in on himself slightly and says, “Better than the worms.”

 “Yeah,” Tim says, and some of it leaks out—a guilt so thick it hurts his teeth. Two weeks, and he hadn’t even thought to check on Martin.

“We would have come,” Tim finds himself saying, quiet yet too-loud in the space between them. “If we’d have known, we would have come.”

 “I know,” Martin says, his words ragged around the edges. “It- it’s okay.”

 “No,” Tim says, surprised at the conviction in his voice. “It’s not. You were trapped for two weeks by a worm-infested woman and- and we just took her word that you were out sick.” Tim feels revulsion bubbling up within him, a sickening nausea. “I texted her. I thought it was you, and I- I was sending her the things I would send you, little jokes and pictures I thought you’d like and offering to come over. But every time, you said no. Said you didn’t want me to get sick, and it was such a you thing to say that I just accepted it! After a week, I should have just come by, if only to see if you needed- Christ, groceries or something.”

 Martin hugs his arms tighter to himself. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “I- I don’t know what would have happened if you did.”

 Tim knows that Martin’s right. He’d probably be dead. Or worse. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that if he’d just cared enough to check in, Martin wouldn’t have that scared, haunted look on his face that he’s trying very hard to hide. “Yeah,” Tim says, that same guilt laced into his words. “You’re probably right. Doesn’t make it better, though.”

 Martin just nods. For a moment, they stand there in silence. Tim doesn’t know what to do, how to make it better. He hadn’t been there for Martin when he’d been trapped and alone and terrified, but he’s here now. He’s here, but he’s never been good at comforting people, at smoothing the pain from someone’s face or knowing the right words to chase away fear and sadness.

 So, eventually, Tim shrugs off his jacket, folds it on top of the box, and says, “You know, I have some playing cards stashed away in my desk, as well as quite an impressive selection of crisps and chocolates. I have to tell you, though—I’ve never lost a match of Go Fish.”

 Martin’s eyes when they meet Tim’s are wide with surprise. “What?”

 Tim shrugs and smiles, a practiced motion that keeps him grounded even when pain and sadness threaten to tear him apart. He hopes it does the same for Martin. “Thought we’d make a night of it. A good old-fashioned sleepover, if you will.”

 “Why—?” Martin cuts off, shakes his head once. When he speaks again, his voice is cracked down the middle. “You- you don’t have to stay, Tim. I’ll be fine.”

 “I know,” Tim says, a bit of that guilt pushing into the edges of his words again despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. He lets it take over, for just a moment, and says, “I thought you might not want to be alone. And I’ve been told that I’m excellent company.”

 Martin lets out a small, shaky laugh. “Do they?” he says, humored, and something warm spreads through Tim’s chest, nestling next to his heart. “I- I suppose… I’d like that.” He nods hesitantly and repeats, “I’d like that.”

 Tim flashes Martin another grin before heading off to retrieve the cards.

 They stay up late, into the very early morning even as exhaustion drags Tim’s eyelids down with every passing hour. Tim’s always liked spending time with Martin—on Friday nights at the pub or on the occasional movie night or even just in passing, taking a moment to chat at Martin’s desk before moving on to his own work. He finds himself moving closer and closer to Martin as the night wears on until their thighs are pressed together as they lean against the wall, the cards laying forgotten on the floor in front of them as they just talk. About frivolous things, like the kinds of flowers Tim likes and Martin’s favorite pastries. About personal things, like Martin’s visits to his mother in the home and Tim’s brief affair with Sasha.

 The clock rolls over into single digits, and Martin says, quietly, “I lied on my CV.”

 Tim looks over at him. His hands are fidgeting in his lap, but his mouth is set into a thin, determined line, like he’d been working himself up to this for a very long time. Martin must sense Tim’s eyes on him because he continues unprompted, “I- I mentioned that my mother is in a home, and- and she’s been unwell for quite some time, so I had to drop out of school when I was 17 to support us. Didn’t have time or the qualifications for a degree, but I needed the money, and- and nowhere was hiring, so I- I faked my credentials. Said I had a master’s in business or English or history—anything that might get me a job that paid enough to support us. For some reason, my lie about parapsychology got me an interview with Elias, and then… he hired me.” Martin sucks in a small, shaky breath. “I- I’m only 29.”

 Tim’s reeling a bit. He doesn’t really know what to say—what can he say? Eventually, what comes out is, “You’ve been here since you were 22? Without a degree?” He turns so he can face Martin fully and says, completely serious, “Martin, that’s amazing.”

 Martin flushes a bright crimson. “I- I don’t really think it’s- I mean, it’s not really something that I earned—”

 Tim puts his hand on Martin’s knee, and Martin’s mouth snaps shut. “To jump straight into an academic job without any prior knowledge? Yeah, maybe it’s not conventional, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you’re just as good a researcher as me and Sasha.”

 Martin’s flush grows deeper, and he mumbles, “Yeah, I- I guess.”

 Martin’s hands begin to twist around each other again, an uncomfortable gesture, and after a moment’s hesitation, Tim takes one of Martin’s hands in his, trying to offer support and reassurance in the brush of his fingers against Martin’s. He hears the way Martin’s breath hitches as he does so, and affection curls in his stomach. “I’m glad you told me,” Tim says sincerely. “And I hope you know that I’m not going to tell anybody, not unless you want me to.”

 Martin shakes his head firmly. “No, I- I really don’t want to be fired. I, er. I kind of need this job.” He lets out a small noise that could almost be a groan if it weren’t so laced with nerves. “Christ, if Jon found out. After the dog incident, I- I think he’d just fire me on the spot.”

 “Or maybe,” Tim says, “it might finally convince him to stop berating you for every little mistake.”

 “Tim,” Martin says, pleading.

 “I’m not going to tell him,” Tim says softly, squeezing Martin’s hand once more to firmly convey his point. “I promise.”

 The tension in Martin’s shoulders bleeds out, and he sighs heavily. “Thank you. For- for everything, I suppose.” He pauses a moment before saying, quieter, “For- for this. For staying with me.”

 Tim knocks his shoulder against Martin’s and then makes the split-second decision to leave it there, pressed against Martin’s. “Yeah, of course,” he says lightly. “We’re friends.”

 “Friends,” Martin echoes, like the word’s unfamiliar on his tongue. After a moment, he squeezes Tim’s hand in return and leans more firmly into Tim’s side. His curls brush against the shell of Tim’s ear, and Tim has the sudden desire to feel Martin’s lips against him, ghosting across his jawline and light against his temple. For a moment, he considers asking—taking Martin’s hand and raising it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Martin’s knuckles and his palm and the inside of his wrist.

 He doesn’t. Instead, he gives Martin a wide smile and says, “I like you, Martin. Me and Sasha and- and even Jon, I bet, underneath all that prickliness.” He gives in to his desires, just a bit, and lets his free hand come up to the side of Martin’s face, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “How could we not?”

 Martin’s cheek is hot beneath Tim’s hand, and he can feel the motion of Martin’s jaw as he says, quietly, “I… I like you too.”

 “Flatterer,” Tim says. He loves the way Martin’s smile at that feels against his palm.

 They go to sleep soon after, Martin flat on his back on the cot and Tim sprawled on top of him despite Martin’s protests that we’re not both going to fit, Tim, the cot’s not really built for two. Tim can feel the motion of Martin’s chest as he breathes; he wants to curl up into Martin’s side and stay there forever.

 “Goodnight,” Tim mumbles, sleep already overtaking him. Maybe that’s why he lets his lips brush against Martin’s cheek as he says it, a slight enough motion that he doesn’t know if Martin feels it.

 He’s not awake for long enough to know for sure. But with the feeling of Martin beneath him, soft and warm and safe, he doesn’t really mind either way.