#his fight with stw?

[tyrantwombat]

There is a lot happening right now, but the authorial decision to relay this to the reader by putting Song Taewon, Han Yoojin, and Sung Hyunjae alone in a room together had to have been The most chaotic way to go about it.

Case and point: Song Taewon heard 'possibility of double suicide' and didn't think twice. Sung Hyunjae is lovingly feeding them personally baked goods while nearly actually vibrating with the desire to absolutely murder both of them. Han Yoojin - the man who walked into this building prepared to blow it up with a bomb as an expression of disgruntlement - is currently the acting voice of reason as he desperately tries to referee this shit with a gun.

Some highlights:

SHJ: I'm still trying to decide if I should kill you.

HYJ: *oh free juice!* Officer Song, sit down please, he said he's still thinking about it.

---

STW&SHJ: *very literary showdown scene, very dramatic**you who are better than I at stripping away the monster and swallowing it whole-* *pst use looting* *pst I got it*

HYJ, in background: *staring into camera like he's on the office are you seeing this shit*

--

HYJ: You know you could die, right?

STW: I'm fine with that.

HYJ: Of course you are.

---

HYJ: WILL YOU BOTH JUST SHUT UP NO ONE IS DYING THIS TIME

---

STW:

STW: why

STW:

STW: why is there a child?

---

HYJ: okay but hear me out...

HYJ: what if you could kill me?

[icharchivist]

undefined

Strength To Wield Cosplay Show from the Granblue Fantasy Festival of 2021, Recursion and Reunion

with subtitles (translation coming straight from how those lines were translated in game)

[artyandink]

the art of heresy forged 2022

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

TW: psychological torture, trauma, angst, smut, drinking, consumption of drugs, smoking, mentions of sex, blood, murder, gore, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), derogatory remarks, gunfire, murder, killing, lots of it, it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, crack, literal crack

STW: fingering, Ben being Ben, degradation, explicit spoken detail, practically manhandling

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift

keep it quiet

NICARAGUA, 1983:

The sun hung low in the Nicaraguan sky, casting long shadows over the dense jungle. The air was thick with humidity, clinging to every leaf, every blade of grass, and every breath the small town's inhabitants took. A deep, unsettling quiet had settled over the place, punctuated only by the occasional call of distant birds or the rustle of leaves. The tranquility of the town was deceptive, however, masking the turmoil that had gripped the world beyond its borders.

In the heart of the town, a small news station buzzed with a rare energy. Reporters shuffled about, their voices tense, their faces drawn with concern. The camera lights were harsh against the evening gloom, casting sharp shadows on the walls of the makeshift studio. Outside, a handful of locals gathered, their curiosity piqued by the unusual activity. News had traveled fast, as it always did in small towns, and the disappearance of Soldier Boy was no exception. For the people of this remote corner of the world, the arrival of a famous superhero—however dire the circumstances—was an event worth witnessing.

Inside the studio, the main anchor, a seasoned reporter named Esteban Garcia, sat behind a worn wooden desk, straightening the stack of notes before him. His dark eyes were set with a determination that had been honed over years of covering stories that often blurred the lines between the ordinary and the extraordinary. But today, the story was unlike any other he had ever covered.

Esteban had been one of the first to receive the report that Soldier Boy, the legendary superhero and symbol of American might, had gone missing during a covert operation in Nicaragua. The details were still murky, shrouded in a haze of classified information and official denials. What was clear, however, was that the man who had once been invincible, the man who had been the living embodiment of strength and bravery, was now feared dead.

As Esteban shuffled his notes one last time, the door to the studio creaked open, and in walked a woman who seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. Crimson Countess was a striking figure; her red hair, usually fiery and untamed, was pulled back into a tight bun. Her crimson suit, once a beacon of power and confidence, seemed to have lost its luster, the fabric dull and wrinkled as if it, too, had been drained of life.

She moved with a heaviness that Esteban hadn't seen before, her every step measured, her every breath labored. As she approached the interview chair, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly. This was not the Crimson Countess the world had come to know—the fierce, unyielding force that had fought alongside Soldier Boy for years. This was a woman on the brink, teetering between despair and the desperate need to hold herself together.

"Thank you for coming, Countess," Esteban said, his voice gentle but firm. He gestured to the chair opposite him, and she lowered herself into it, her movements slow and deliberate. "I know this must be an incredibly difficult time for you."

Countess nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, she seemed unable to speak, her throat working to push down the grief that threatened to spill over. When she finally did find her voice, it was hoarse, raw with emotion.

"Difficult doesn’t even begin to cover it," she murmured, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance, far beyond the walls of the studio. "I’ve… I’ve been through a lot with Soldier Boy. We all have. But this… this is different."

Esteban nodded, giving her the space she needed to gather her thoughts. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words, with the weight of shared history and the looming specter of loss. Outside, the gathering crowd pressed closer to the windows, straining to catch even the faintest whisper of what was being said inside.

"He was… he is," she corrected herself quickly, as if to banish the thought of his death from existence, "the strongest person I’ve ever known. Indestructible, or so we all thought. To think that he could be… gone… it’s like waking up in a nightmare you can’t escape from."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she closed her eyes tightly, as if that could somehow block out the pain. Esteban felt a pang of sympathy. He had seen many interviews like this before—family members of the missing, the grieving, the lost. But this was different. This was Crimson Countess, a superhero, someone who was supposed to be beyond the reach of such ordinary, human emotions. And yet here she was, broken in a way that no enemy had ever managed to break her.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Esteban asked softly, careful not to push too hard, but knowing that the world was desperate for answers. "Anything at all that you know?"

Countess opened her eyes and looked at him. For a moment, she seemed to be weighing her words, deciding how much to reveal, how much to hold back. Then, with a deep breath, she began to speak.

"It was supposed to be a routine mission," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "We’ve done this kind of thing a hundred times before—go in, neutralize the threat, get out. But something went wrong. I… I wasn’t there when it happened, I was in a different part of the field, but I spoke to him on the comms. He was… he was confident, as always. He didn’t think anything could go wrong."

She paused, swallowing hard, as if the memory of that last conversation was too much to bear. "But then we lost contact. Just like that. One minute, everything was fine, and the next… nothing. No signal, no word. Just… silence."

Esteban leaned forward, his brow furrowing in concern. "And you haven’t heard anything since? No communication from Soldier Boy or anyone else on the mission?"

Countess shook her head, her expression one of helplessness, an emotion she was clearly unaccustomed to. "Nothing. It’s like they vanished into thin air. The government’s been tight-lipped, as always. They’re saying it’s classified, that they’re ‘looking into it,’ but I know what that means. They think he’s dead. They just don’t want to say it."

The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Esteban could feel the tension in the room rising, the weight of the world’s expectations pressing down on this woman who had spent her life fighting battles that most people couldn’t even imagine. And now she was fighting a battle of a different kind—one that she had no idea how to win.

"What does this mean for you, Countess?" he asked after a long moment, his voice soft with understanding. "For the team? For the world?"

Countess looked at him, her eyes filled with a deep, abiding sorrow. "I don’t know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I really don’t know. Soldier Boy was… he was the heart of the team. The backbone. Without him… I don’t know how we go on."

The room fell silent again, the weight of her words sinking in. Outside, the crowd had grown larger, their faces pressed against the glass, their eyes wide with fear and fascination. They had come to see a superhero, but what they were witnessing was something far more profound—a woman laid bare, stripped of the armor that had always protected her, struggling to make sense of a world that no longer made sense.

Esteban knew that he had to tread carefully now. He could see how close she was to the edge, how fragile her composure had become. But he also knew that the world was watching, waiting for answers, for some kind of closure. He took a deep breath, choosing his next words with care.

"Countess," he began gently, "the world has always looked to people like you and Soldier Boy for strength, for hope. In times of crisis, you’ve been the ones to lead us, to show us that even the darkest times can be overcome. What would you say to those who are watching right now? To those who are afraid?"

Countess stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if looking for something—perhaps a lifeline, perhaps an escape. When she spoke, her voice was stronger, more certain, as if she had found some small reserve of the strength that had always defined her.

"I’d say that fear is a natural response to the unknown," she said slowly, the words coming out measured and deliberate. "But fear can’t be the end of the story. Soldier Boy… he wouldn’t want us to give up, to let fear consume us. He’d want us to fight, to keep going, no matter how hopeless it seems."

Her voice grew steadier as she spoke, the words seemingly giving her strength. "I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know if Soldier Boy is… if he’s really gone. But I do know that he wouldn’t want us to stop fighting. He’d want us to keep pushing forward, to keep believing that there’s a way out of this, even if we can’t see it right now."

Esteban nodded, feeling a sense of respect for this woman who, despite everything, was still finding a way to inspire hope. "Thank you, Countess," he said quietly. "I know that wasn’t easy."

Countess managed a small, tight smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Nothing about this is easy," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it’s what we have to do."

As the interview drew to a close, Esteban could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her body seemed to sag with the weight of it all. He knew that the moment the cameras stopped rolling, she would retreat back into the private hell she was living, the grief and uncertainty gnawing away at her resolve.

"Do you think he could still be out there?" Esteban asked, unable to resist the question that had been on his mind since the beginning of the interview. "Do you think Soldier Boy could still be alive?"

Countess looked at him, her eyes filled with a quiet desperation. "I have to believe he is," she said softly, the words laced with a fragile hope. "Because if he’s not… I don’t know how we move on from this."

The camera panned out, capturing the room in its entirety—the small, stark studio, the gathering crowd outside, and the lone figure of Crimson Countess, sitting in the harsh light, her face a mask of controlled despair. The broadcast would soon be over, but the impact of her words would linger long after the screen went dark.

NOW:

“Whatever you’re experiencing, it’s not real.” Your shrink - you still didn’t know whether her name was Emily or Earhart - assured you, but you knew better. “Vought only wants to help you get better.”

“They’ve been so called helping me for forty fucking years.” You gritted out, your fingers gripping the chair you were sitting on. The maroon chair, with some fugly beige cushions in this fugly beige room. You hated it.

Fuck all.

She sighed, leaning forward. “You exhibit signs of anger issues and PTSD. Vought is merely facilitating your recovery and return to glory.”

“They’re fucking with my head!” You burst out, standing up abruptly, surging forward and grabbing her throat, your eyes turning black, gleaming with wisps of purple. “Tell me the truth.”

Tell me the truth. It resonated through Eleanor’s head, and her eyes turned the same colour as yours, her jaw going slack as she stopped resisting.

“You’re not crazy.” She whispered, her eyes wide and unfocused. “You never were.”

You let her go, and her eyes returned back to normal, a shaky gasp escaping her lips. You bent forward, trapping her between yourself and the chair.

“You tell anyone what I just did, sweetie,” You warned lowly, “and I’ll snap your neck by the time I next come in here.”

“Of course.” She whispered, her voice cracking.

You sat back down on the armchair, cracking a smile as you examined the fear in her eyes. Good. “Shall we continue?”

They’d gotten into some weird shit.

“Is he always gonna be doing that?” Hughie whispered to Butcher, watching Ben crush some medicine and snort it like it was nothing. They’d broken him out of his cryogenic capsule, and it’s safe to say that he was an incredibly pissed off individual. Understandably so.

“Just let ‘im, it ain’t killing us.” Butcher replied under his breath, and then snapped into suave gent action when Ben cleared his throat and looked up. “Everythin’ alright, there, guv’nor?”

“Gotta add another name to my kill list.” He cleared his throat again, grunting distastefully.

“One more?” Hughie asked, eyes widening slightly, but he recovered. “Uh, w-who is that - the one you want to kill - who?”

Ben grunted again, snorting up more crushed pills. “Tricky bitch, she is. Superhero by the name of Psyke, she was my co-leader and fuck buddy. Real tricky to get past. She can create illusions that you’ll fall for if you’re a dumb piece’a shit, and if she gets her hands on you, game over.”

Butcher crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“One, she’s hot as fuck. And a great fuck.” Ben chuckled, reminiscing the days. “Second, she’ll just whisper a command and you’ll do it no questions asked.”

“No problem, guv.” Butcher smirked confidently, but Hughie raised his hand. “Put your hand the fuck down, we ain’t in school.”

“Cocksucker.” Ben snorted - not recreational drugs this time - drinking his beer. “What is it?”

“Psyke, she… she’s impossible to get to.” Hughie revealed, scrolling on his phone. “Apparently she had a psychotic outbreak after you were put in the freezer in ‘83. Vought’s holding her for rehabilitation and therapy. Has been for forty years.

Ben saw the picture of the old newspaper, the title blaring in his face. ‘Psyke in Rehab for Violent Behaviour’, but no explanation. It told him one thing— that you must have known something was wrong.

And Vought imprisoned you for it, the bastards.

There wasn’t a world in which Vought would imprison their darling, their golden girl. Not unless she went rogue.

“That means she’s deep in a Vought facility.” Butcher smirked, glancing between the two others. “We get the team together, launch an attack on the cunts holdin’ her, we can get her out quick an’ easy.”

Ben’s protective instincts over you flared up when he thought of what Vought could’ve done to you. “She gets out unharmed, y’hear?”

“Loud and clear, guv. Not a scratch.”

Oh, fuck. You could go for one of those at the moment.

You were left on the ground, on your back, trembling. Your brain felt like it’d been stretched and then left to rebound against all four walls of your brain, close to turning into mush had you not been fighting the drug injected into your system with everything you had.

“She’s resisting.” You heard one doctor mutter to another, just as searing, white hot pain made the corners of your vision turn black.

And then they shaped into the nightmare land, taking over your vision until it was half reality half illusion, messing with your perception until you weren’t sure which was actually happening.

You could see Nicaragua.

The blood, being distracted by a legion only to find Ben being subdued by Novichok.

Fighting off every member of Payback, making them turn on one another with nothing but a hand on their shoulder and a persuasive whisper.

Getting hit with a cheap shot from behind, and both yours and Ben’s bodies were dragged across the dirt.

Only difference was that you were barely awake. Awake enough to see his unconscious face as they took him away and put him God knows where.

“Have we tried giving her a stronger dose?” A male doctor replied, the corners of your vision blinking from reality, back to nightmare, reality, nightmare, reality- nightmare—

Keys jangled. “We give her a stronger dose and she’ll go up in a stroke. Homelander wants her alive.”

“I don’t understand why, she’s a walking weapon.”

“Talking like I’m not there.” You rasped out, like you hadn’t spoken in a hundred years. A rough chuckle left your mouth as you shakily pushed yourself up, the pounding in your head still there but finding it easier to regain muscle control. “Ballsy move, especially for a couple of dickless scientists.”

You pointed at the lady. “You’re already dickless, so you don’t count.”

The two doctors looked between each other, getting more and more anxious as you found your feet, staggering towards them, almost shuffling, footsteps uneven.

“Uh, what are you-” They froze when you clapped your hands on their shoulders, leaning forward so you were speaking in their ears, your iris turning into gleaming purple mixed with black.

“Kill each other.” You whispered, and the command resonated. The urge to pick up their pens and go postal overtaking them.

Kill each other.

Kill each other.

It went through their mind, body, soul. Clipboards flattering to the floor as their irises turned black and swirled with purple, turning to each other slowly. Teeth gritting, veins popping as the two doctors looked into each other’s eyes with pure hatred and a chuckle left your lips as you watched them click their pens and go straight for the jugular.

Over and over again.

“Sleep tight, bitches.” You muttered in satisfaction just as armed Vought soldiers burst in, two forcing you to your knees while two others went to check the tangled, lifeless bodies of the two doctors running rampant.

And you did that.

It felt amazing.

1980:

Mmh, fuck.

“Bet you’re so wet for me, pretty thing.” Ben chuckled against your lips as you stumbled back into the his hotel room, the rapid undoing of clothes not privy to the two of you as the curtains were wide open. Everyone in the street below could see the filthy way yours and Ben’s lips joined together over and over again, eyes closed but hands familiar with where they needed to go to make the other moan.

Ben separated from you to go and close the curtains, leaving the taste of whiskey on your tongue, still in his slacks from the press conference while he’d ridden you of everything but that delicious fucking lace you’d worn under your dress.

He’d been eyeing you all day in that thing, and all he thought about was having it off.

“Didn’t have enough after coming like a faucet on my cock this morning, hm?” He added, toeing his shoes off and working on his belt, his lips descending to your neck and leaving hot trails of kisses and rough sucks. “Nah, you didn’t.”

Your hands slid up his chest, and then one went down to palm him over his slacks, which had the vein in his neck popping, jaw tensing as his head fell back for a quick second.

Then he took control of the situation, tearing your panties off and throwing you onto the bed, the bra going with it as he sank two thick fingers knuckle deep in your pussy.

“Shit-” You gasped, arching off the bed, your legs widening instinctively as he set a brutally delicious pace, leaning forward to lick and suck at your nipple, biting and tugging at it with his teeth at his fancy.

Ben only laughed, manoeuvring your body how he wanted, rocking your hips in time with his fingers, hearing your moans, seeing your eyes roll back, knowing you were close-

NOW:

“TMI.” Hughie groaned, putting his hand out and shaking his head. “Really, dude. Ew.”

Ben frowned. “TMI- the fuck does that mean?” He thought for a second, then waved Hughie off. “Eh, I don’t give two shits.” Then he chuckled at the memory, nodding and hitching his shield higher on his arm. “Psyke, man. Best fuck you could ask for. She’d ride me like a damn champ, knows how to suck you off too. Had a mouth like a goddamn vacuum-”

“As much as I want to hear about your old buddy’s jerkin’ off talents, guv,” Butcher cut in with a wave of his hands as they walked, “we have half an hour to get in an’ out.”

“We’ll get her.” Ben assured, finding a Vought guard and slamming his shield into their face, successfully breaking their nose and making them drop, crumpling like a wet sheet of paper.

“Fuck you.” He added, sneering at the unconscious guard before trudging further through the halls, Hughie and Butcher keeping up right as the alarms blared red.

The moment they did, you - in your cell - smirked, finding an opportunity. The guards were about to restrain you, but you used their grip on your arms to knock them into each other, rolling out of the way and grabbing their handgun, shooting them both once each in the head before anyone could react.

You barely dodged a bullet (literally), jumping and spinning, whipping your leg around so your heel could connect with the side of one’s head, snapping it sideways and sweeping another guard’s legs out from under them, grabbing their head and snapping their neck.

All the guards were down, so you got up, looking at the massacre - the art - you’d created with a small smile on your face and an approving nod.

“Cocksuckers.” You muttered under your breath before shaking your head, clearing the corners of your vision of Nicaragua, induced by whatever shit they put into your system. Wasn’t the good shit either, it was bad shit.

You really needed a smoke round about now.

But now wasn’t the time, so you picked up the guard’s assault rifle and pocketed a few rounds, making your way through the clinically white halls with it held up, popping a few rounds through the heads of the guards you met.

Eventually, of course, all your rounds were depleted soon enough, and you resorted to using your hands (and not in the sexy way), Nicaragua threatening to take over your vision

“You can check that way, guv, she might be there.” A voice with an accent said gruffly, and when you looked around the corner, you saw a boot disappearing down a side corridor, and two other guys. You stepped up behind the smaller one, your bare feet silent on the cold floor.

With a sharp movement, you grabbed the smaller one’s shoulders, yanking him against you as your powers activated again, ready to strike. “Move a muscle and I tell this one to dislocate his own shoulder. Maybe break a leg.”

“What the fuck- I don’t wanna break a leg!” The dude held to you squeaked to the taller guy, who turned around, taking one look at you and smirking.

“Guv, we found ‘er!” He yelled, and a large red and brown boot stepped out, connected to a much larger body that you knew all too well. Only difference was that his hair was darker and he had a trimmed beard. Oh, you’d have fun with that - you mused, right as a grin spread on your face.

“Son of a bitch.”

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[envy-of-the-apple]

Oh my god I’m obsessed with all your fics, I think my two favorites are the jjk!naga and ms. Moon. I would love it so much if you made a fanfic of the naga!satosugu x reader on ao3(with rizz). Speaking of those two goofballs I have some questions😋🎀

STW:

So how did Satoru and Suguru act when reader didn’t understand their language and only spoken a language they never heard before (English)?

How does Satoru and Suguru act when reader disappears randomly (trying to escape). Do they just like instantly know or do they think she’s doing something else?

NSFW:

How tf does it even work, do they just give her some venom and hope for the best orrr is it one man at a time😈

How’s the aftercare?

Those are just 4 (I think) questions I came up with at 3 am and I’ll probably have more so thank for making that juicy fanfic bc now I can’t get it out of my head😭

ahhhh thank you!!!!!!onto answering your questions:

It does take them a while to figure out that you are speaking a different language. I think at first they'd be like 'oh, so the squishy little thing is kinda stupid' then, they realize that you don't have the right parts to mimic what they're saying. Eventually, they start out with basics, repeating the stuff you seem to say a lot. I think the first time Satoru manages to repeat 'hello' you get really giddy and excited and so will he and his willingless to learn just increases exponentially after that. Suguru will follow in suit, not wanting his mate to be the only person to make you laugh.

Once the language barrier starts to fade and they start actively calling you theirs, you'd obviously reject their claim because they are two giant snake men and you wanna go home. They obviously won't like that and are just like 'well if you dont want us, the least we can do is keep you with us forever, right?'. After that, you'd be strictly kept in the cave. Eventually, you'd be able to go back outside again, once they've gotten it into your skull that you are never leaving.

im not answering the nsfw part cuz idk how it works either LMAO but for the venom, they learn pretty quickly that they have to be careful with it. The first time, you were bitten was by Suguru (see pt2). He was already careful, giving you less than half than what he gives Satoru but you were still out cold for days. I do think that your reaction will scare them out of using it for a couple more weeks but eventually, they'll start giving you doses if you start lashing out too much. I think Suguru would be more responsible with the dosage, never really giving in unless you start doing something that will put you in danger. Satoru would be more than happy to bite you at any small grievance. They definitely get into fights about that, but even Suguru admits that you are cute when you're loopy and dozing peacefully in their arms.

[acutemushroom]

Some Sokkla family headcannons because this ship has been stuck in my head for a good week

They live in the Southern Water Tribes (STW) and Sokka has eventually succeeded his father as chief.

They have two children: A son named Haku (Spirited away reference? I don't know what you're talking about...) and a daughter named Lykka.

Haku is a waterbender and Lykka a firebender.

Haku looks very similar to his father. Though, his eyes and facial expressions are all Azula'.

Lykka's skin is darker than Azula's but still a bit lighter than her father's. Her hair is black but wavy (same hair texture than Katara). Her eyes shape is round like Sokka but the colour is gold.

Azula's favorite cloth from the STW is the Amauti. I just know that she is the kind of mother who would carry her children everywhere with her until they can walk, so she would absolutely adore these.

Ironically for a man who loves his sleep, Sokka insisted to be the one who wake up when the kids were babies. He would only bring them to Azula if it was because they wanted to eat. Because of his responsabillities, especially at the beginning of his chiefhood, it was his moment to be able to solely focus on bonding with and taking care of his children. Plus, Azula wakes up very early in the morning, so it let her rest and sleep.

To no one's surprise, considering who their parents are, the siblings favorite pass time is to prank their uncle Zuzu when they see him. They are sillies in general.

Sokka insisted they learn, at least the basics of, weilding weapons. In case something happens and they can't rely on their bending. Haku can be frequently seen fighting or hunting with an ice-coated halberd. Lykka, on the other hand, preferred dual broadswords. Thing is, in good uncle fashion, Zuko taught her some fun tricks combining the swords and firebending. She once almost burned her hair and the house while juggling fire with the swords. Oops....

Sokka taught them a lot of manual skills in general. I just know it in my bones that, in a Modern AU, he would be the kind of dad to put a mechanical drill in his toddler's hands.

At each of the kid's first full moon, Sokka took them outside to present them to Yue. They're the only kids in the world that can brag about having the Moon Spirit as their godmother.

[livrere-green]

ATLA x Omegaverse AU

Part 1 | Part 2

This post is going to revolve mostly around cultural and social perception of alphas, betas and omegas in the Water Tribes and the Fire Nation.

Northern Water Tribe & Southern Water Tribe

First of all, the way gender (conventional) is managed in the SWT/NWT is evident from the begining. There's a certain order about what every person must or mustn't do, so I'm gonna talk about it, but establishing how these two communities beliefs and practices may differ.

Talking about omegaverse's gender divisions, I considered that doing an extrapolation of some of the beliefs from the Inuit culture (main inspiration of the SWT/NWT) is needed. This is, taking as axis that gender roles are demarcated, but there's no sense of inferiority regarding any gender, because the fulfilment of their roles is highly needed for the survival of the community.

Of course, here's where the difference resides. While the STW, as a whole, doesn't establish limitations or prohibitions about what an omega can or cannot do or learn, the NWT does, they also continue with the tradition of arranged marriages as a way to maintain the equilibrium of the community (after puberty, all omegas are considered in marriageable age).

Now, this is important, a young omega is eligible for marriage after their presentation, but an alpha or beta had to prove they are efficient enough to support a family before they could marry.

Why? Because roles are important, but an omega is appreciated only for the fact of being an omega and what that naturally implies. While an alpha or beta had to show that they can fulfill certain expectations (this usually happened through courtship when it came to alphas).

This is a complex issue, because it doesn't mean omegas are equally free, they are valuable because their worth is inherent to their nature (yes, as baby machines) and what that role demands of them (taking care of a household and taking care of children).

History fact here: the SWT separate from the NWT due to their different understandings and ways of living, the South grew detach of some expectations and practices regarding gender, such as prohibiting omegas from carrying out certain activities such as hunting, armed fighting and waterbending to combat. Most of these changes took decades in being completely embrace, but the war and the subsequently limitation of material and human resources forced the community to accept changes faster.

While in the South, being a chronically reduced and scattered population, there were no many options, they couldn't keep up with the demands that came along with gender/sex roles. If became a situation in which, if you can fight, you fight, contrasted with the teachings that the old sages shared with the young kids that were left behind during the war.

In consequence, there was a clear dichotomy between what those children were taught by the elders who refused to let go of the past and the reality they lived in, because there were omegas that left to fight, as much as old alphas and betas that had to stay behind because they couldn't fight anymore.

This difficult context had different effects in characters from the SWT, for example, Sokka and Katara.

While Katara recognized the value in who she was, and embraced the idea that she could do whatever she wanted because her status as an omega wasn't a limitation or a specially relevant factor to it; Sokka learned that there was an order that wasn't being follow, that things were out of place because of the war and maybe when it ended, everything would be normal again.

The reality is that after their journey started, Katara was faced with a harsh world, one in which all her value resided in her sex/gender, or worst, with a society that didn't even see her as a human worthy of respect, because her nature was a inherent sign of inferiorly.

In the other hand, Sokka found his beliefs refuted the hard way. He came to accept that there was not an ideal order, or a place in which an alpha, beta or omega is limited to be; he also outgrew past resentments and conflicts that he had been holding since Kya died and Hakoda left.

Fun Facts:

Avatars born in the SWT/NWT have commonly presented as alphas.

The practice of giving mating marks was discourage during the war to avoid the harming effects of broken bonds.

In both tribes, Alphas are neither obliged to take any kind of suppressants nor prohibited access to them.

In the South, the use of natural suppressants is common between omegas, stronger medications are not recommended if they can be avoided. While in the North, only recently presented omegas are allowed access to light suppressants.

Packs are uncommon in the South due to reduced population. In the North, there's requirements that should be fullfil in order for a pack to be formally recognized.

Fire Nation

The Fire Nation maintains an strict social order when it comes to the understanding of oneself, family and community (the prominent inspiration for this comes from Confucianism). Their values are widespread and forced in people through propaganda, just as part of nationalist beliefs.

They preach that maintaining the hierarchy between alphas, betas and omegas is needed to reach harmony within the Nation and encouraged the fulfilment of the duty of filial pleity. Is important to highlight that the alpha population is almost equally divided between male (+6%) and female alphas, while beta females (+15%) and omega females (+31%) are more common that their male counterparts.

Under this statement, male alphas and betas, as well as female alphas and betas are optimal for training and taking place in the army. Being alphas the ones that are regarded more respect from fellow officers, soldiers and other members from a crew. Usually, only alphas assume positions of power within the army, the only exception could be a beta who is also a powerful firebender.

On the other hand, omegas are not allowed to take part of any military training or operation. They are relegated to stay home, and are usually educated since their presentation in the different knowledge regarding their own nature, the care of a household and raising children. The government provides this type of education aimed at omegas in schools, but they can also be educated at home, in which case, omegas from wealthy families could access a more integral education.

Also, If they happen to be a bender, once presented, all omegas are only allowed to use their abilities for domestic activities and must be inmidiatly retired from any sort of training.

Omegas that had already underwent proper education are eligible for marriage, this is estimated around age 16 to 20, they are usually courted by alphas or betas. Although, it's always preferred to marry an alpha, as it it's believe they're better providers.

Courtship is a mere formality when it comes to arranged marriages, those are common within the upper class of the Fire Nation, and are set in order to reinforced the status and power of the families.

The Royal Family relies on arranged marriages too, being the members commonly alphas, the court assumes the task of finding a proper omega to take place as their partner, they execute an exhaustive evaluation process (it includes, but not limits to: physical condition for procreation, mental state, education and economical status). Most upper class families encourage their omega kids to participate in this selection, despite the humiliation and trauma it implies.

Due to the inequality in access to education, most of the people working as servants at the Royal Palace, are lower class omegas and betas. While trainers, instructors and governesses of the Royal Family children are alphas, betas or middle/upper class omegas, as long as they fulfil the requirements.

Now, talking about Zuko and Azula. It was expected for both of them to present as alphas, but only Azula did.

Ozai was informed that Zuko presented as a beta by Iroh, because during the standard years of presentation (13 to 14), he didn't show any major change. Clearly, this was another thing Ozai added to the list of reasons why his son was a disappointment, but Iroh was aware that he had blatantly lie, because Zuko never show any of the signs or even minor changes common in betas. He presented as an omega almost a year later, and Iroh agreed to help him hide it, because they both were aware of the vulnerable position that put him in, even when it came to his own crew, let aside his father.

Back in the Fire Nation, Azula presented early as an alpha, which was celebrated and granted her respect around the court and military officials. After her presentation, she was taught, mostly by Ozai, to employ her nature as a tool to control others, mostly through her alpha voice, which she started to use, mostly with servants and in occasions, with her friends.

Fun Facts:

Avatar Roku was an Alpha, Fire Lord Sozin was a Beta, but everyone within the Nation and its colonies is taught that both of them were alphas.

Unmated Omegas are allowed access only to light suppressants unless they're older than 50 or have a broken bond, in which cases they can access stronger medication. Mated Omegas can access any kind of suppressants as long as there's a justification for it (I.e. their alpha mate is abroad, serving in the military).

The Fire Nation has its own regulations regarding a packs legal recognition. Also, It's common to find pup packs that are formed for young presented people, but these are not formally recognised. That term is also used in a derogatory tone to refer to a pack that was formed impulsively.

High rank military officials are allowed to use their alpha voice and other actions, such as a throat grab against other alphas. But an alpha can be condemned for using their voice, independent of rank or position, if they end up harming/endangering children and pregnant omegas.

Alphas serving in the military must take suppressants and these are part of the supplies they receive, but it's a rule that's widely ignore by officials of all ranks. Most of them commonly abuse unmated omegas from any nation, this is also common in all prisons or detention centers.

That's all for now! I linked some stuff here for context, and I know some of these stuff is truly raw but I tried to be realistic.

Thank you for reading!

[mrmarxy]

SOME OF MY FAVORITE THUMBNAIL SCOTTS

You ever look at a Scott the Woz thumbnail - specifically the little image of Scott in the corner? I know I do. And here are a few of those that I like the most.

Did anyone ask for this? No. But it's too late to turn back now.

THE GUY GAME

This particular image of Scott (from the actual episode) is one of my preferred reaction images. It's just so versatile!

What's there not to love, y'know? An absolutely perfect choice for the thumbnail.

NIGHT TRAP

He looks like,, almost uncomfortable. But not quite. It looks like he doesn't know how he should be reacting exactly. I don't know why, but my mind always goes drifting back to Night Trap thumbnail Scott. What a guy. Interestingly enough, the image in this thumbnail and the image used in the It's Awesome Baby! thumbnail are very similar! (I say as if they are not of the exact same man.) They've both got that same expression going on.

It's basically like a slightly worse version of Night Trap's Scott image. I guess that's just my opinion, though. For all I know, the entire STW fanbase prefers It's Awesome Baby! thumbnail Scott over Night Trap thumbnail Scott. But that's okay. I will fight for my beliefs no matter what.

SONIC THE HEDGEHOG 2

I don't know he just looks really funny to me in this one and I'm not sure I can explain why.

WII CHANNELS

He looks extremely concerned. Possibly terrified. Like he has seen something that is very heavily weighing on his mind. (The Check Mii Out Channel will do that to you). I have to imagine I look somewhat similar when I'm trying to play my backwards compatible launch model PlayStation 3 knowing it could fucking explode at any moment.

STORE EXCLUSIVES

Have you ever seen a man look so genuinely hopeless.

SUBSCRIPTION SERVICES

So before I address the image of Scott itself, I think it's so great and clever that there are so many subscription services in the thumbnail that there's not even any room for the title of the video.

(Listen. I know this is far from the only video that doesn't have the title in the thumbnail but I choose to believe this was an intentional design choice let me have this.)

As for the image of Scott, does he not perfectly embody how we all feel about subscription services? Seriously. Now whenever I want to watch a movie and it's only on one lame, obscure subscription service, this image of Scott is what pops into my mind immediately.

TOUCH! GENERATIONS

I saved the (arguable) best for last. I'm not sure if it's my favorite, but if it's not my favorite, it's definitely top three. Touch! Generations thumbnail Scott you are everything. Look at him. He looks like you just put him in time out for watching a YouTube video with swears in it. He looks like you told him that you're not gonna take him out of school early because it's national little guy day. He looks like someone completely ignored his "no miss no dodge" attack in his Animal Jam roleplay. He looks like all he got in his lunch was a sandwich (no cosmic brownie... :( ) meanwhile all his friends got lunchables. I could keep going forever. And I could keep looking at Touch! Generations thumbnail Scott forever. Enough said.

so making this made me come to the realization that being autistic and then trying to describe a person's expression and how you feel about it is actually hard af who would have guessed.

im sorry I made this lmao

[wovenstarlight]

also unrelated but i was looking at vol21 with the hyj+shj VS stw+hyh fight and i found the bit where hyh sets up a decoy with his clothes and hyj shoots at it with ZERO hesitation and i think we thought before that yoohyun was upset about the lack of hesitation. but no. it says he can't stop himself from smiling over it

[a-random-khajiit]

ALEX THE KHAJIIT'S FORTNITE HEADCANONS!1!1!1!1

Montague is homophobic but flamboyantly gay and is trying to hide it

Montague and Peter Griffin are having an affair

Midas and Montague are brothers, and they fight 24/7

Jonesy and Midas are gay together (because I said so)

Jonesy likes classic rock and 80s metal

Oscar has a skincare and self care routine that he often does social media content about

Valeria and Montague used to be married but Valeria just used Montague for his money and was cheating on him with Chapulin Colorado (the Chapulin part is not originally mine but I it was wonderful)

The Good Doctor/Jekyll are different in regular Fortnite and STW lore

Vinderbot is Metal Gear Raiden's grandpa (I also made this one with a friend because it's silly)

Drift and Sanctum are brothers

Sanctum and Dominon are boyfriends

Cerberus did Hades' nails

Cuddle Team Leader is aroace

Rex acts like those Warriors obsessed kids but with T-Rexes.

Skull Trooper loves Metallica

Some of these headcanons were made by or with my boy @cowardlyoreo , give him some love!

[mybelovedstarlings]

SCTIR NOVEL SPOILERS [snippets]

😭😭 I'm so relieved SHJ and STW's plans failed oh my godd

Yoojin rlly said "you are not allowed to abandon me, so y'know what?? Let's use my mental skill and fight our problems out" and proceeded to shoot Song Taewon in the fucking head 😂😂

And now we shoot various other S-Class Hunters while they're weakened!! Yay!! 😅

DID THIS LITTLE SHIT JUST CALL YOOHYUN A DOMESTICATED DOG!?!? OH YOOJIN YOU GOTTA KILL HIM NOW BYE 😶

Ah yes, Yoojin just going to Hyunjae's bedroom like it's normal lmao

Hyunjae & Taewon are 'stepping back'!! We did it, they're not leaving today birches!!

The 'puppeteer' person knows how to kill a transcendental??? Oooh

Oh!! Chloe Alger, our resident S-Class hostage!!

🤣 Yoojin can bring whole ass cars into the drawer space 🤣🤣🤣

CHATTERBOX SET UP A BROADCASTING CHANNEL 🤣🤣😂😂

Hyuna thinks Yoojin with a gun is sexy, and honestly same

What is Chatterbox planning...?

Oooooooooo he said a dungeon would break in 1 hour... let's see if it does

He's gonna film them blowing up the whole fucking Source???? 😂😂

Yoojin... stop acting like a housewife my guy... feeding Hyunjae??? 😳 chill

'A volleyball popped out of the dungeon terrifiyingly' lmao that sounds so weird

Ooo Chatterbox broke the contract

'I was hugging my dying brother.

My younger brother was hugging my, as I died.

I blinked and the illusion shattered.' OH NOOOOO [is the dying Yoojin part from Han Yoohyun's World chapters??? Or the future]

America apparently hates S-Class Hunters... damn that's weirdly scary

I love Gyeol so much ❤️❤️❤️

The S-Classes worrying over Yoojin... 😭😭

They have a GROUP CHAT!! a FAMILY group chat ❤️❤️❤️

Also Sung Hyunjae pretending to cry lmfao

The plot doesn't even matter rn they're so fucking wholesome

Help Yoojin discovered fanfiction 😂

THE PAPPARAZI FOUND YOOJIN 😱😱😱 NO BABY RUUUNNNN

Yoojin making a fool of himself in America is the cutest thing ever my god

Yerim 😂 is carrying 😂😂 Song Taewon 😂😂😂

SHJ threw coke at STW and we stan honestly 🤣🤣

Song Taewon needs to wear a yellow dress to match Yerim!!

I love that there's this one random paparazzi man with them all the time 🤣 like who are you?

Gyeol has a secret?? Oh dear

'"Han Yoojin, my child is sleepy~ "

-Dad! Don't listen, don't listen!

"He bit my finger and hit me with his tail."

-When did I-! Dad! Hang up!! Good night!

[Uh huh. Sleep well. Sung Hyunjae, don't bother him.]

"I am being bullied."'

This interaction is pure gold 🤣🤣

HOLD UP-

GYEOL IS PRETENDING TO LIKE YOOJIN??? WHY WAIT WHAT!?!? NO

Apparently Yoojin has never in his life used lipbalm and I think it's hilarious

[chapter 500s]

[k0koii-yu]

CC theory time—

Randomly thought of this last night but I’m also writing it here just in case anyone else wants to hear me out; also kinda spoiler warning for TiT and WE.

Okay so you guys know how Jack’s age is inconsistent throughout STW and TiT? (In STW his birth year would be 1988, but in TiT it got changed to 1990 while others like Marina and Martine remain consistent) + the fact that his past profession in STW promo images is listed as unknown-?

That got me thinking;

What if Jack is a time traveler?

Yeah I know it’s more likely that PS made a mistake and completely overlooked it; but I’m still gonna post this theory anyways because I can and it’s plausible.

Anyways; I believe that he’s actually born in 1990. In that timeline, SOMBRA won, and somehow got a grip on time travel. Initially, I thought he could potentially be SOMBRA and they sent him back to alter the past even more in their favor, or as a test subject; but then I also thought of him being in some sort of rebel group but somehow getting sent back in time probably as punishment or during a fight.

In the former timeline, he never joined the Bureau. Never recruited the player and they never won against SOMBRA. So when he got sent back, it was likely at max 2 years ago and he was 25 at the time, which ended up creating the age paradox we know of. And in the end of WE, he faded, since we won and his timeline’s future never happened. We didn’t even get to say goodbye to any of them, and therefore, never got to see what happened after that. It is also possible that us going to MoTP could’ve also been the result of time travel but idk.

The TiT Jack could likely be the present Jack in our timeline as well. When time travel was discovered in that timeline he probably found out about the other him and the future he came from, which leads him to seemingly knowing us in the beginning of TiT; or he could see an older version of himself and us, the player, being well-recognized as members of the Bureau before trying to find out more about stuff when the other Jack suddenly disappears. Could probably be why he never even mentions any other characters from S3 (esp the other Bureau members) when Marina did mention Jonah at least once.

[tyrantwombat]

Han Yoojin calls Sung Hyunjae to help him against Song Taewon and then when Sung Hyunjae does TOO GOOD OF A JOB at that he gets spiteful and starts trying to help...SONG TAEWON. Even the field a bit. Just let him punch SHJ ONCE.

Why are they like this.

[artyandink]

the art of heresy forged 1982

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

TW: psychological torture, traummentions of sex, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, crack, fluff

STW: voyeurism, exhibitionism, missionary, unprotected sex

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: Heaven by Julia Michaels

cracked armour

NOVEMBER 1982:

You were in the middle of one of your usual sessions with Ben when the door swung open. Ben had you pinned beneath him, both of you completely absorbed in each other, bodies tangled in the sheets, sweat clinging to your skin, and you were right in the middle of things—no warning, no knock, nothing. Just the door creaking open and the shrill voice of Crimson Countess cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

“What the fuck?”

Ben didn’t even flinch, didn’t pause for a second. He just kept going, driving into you with that same reckless abandon he always had, as if nothing had happened. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but glance over at the door to see her standing there, wide-eyed, her hands on her hips, her mouth twisted in a mix of shock and anger.

“Jesus Christ, Marjorie,” Ben growled without breaking his rhythm. “What the hell do you want?”

You let out a snort, barely holding back a laugh as you gripped the headboard to steady yourself. “Yeah, you can see we’re kinda busy here.”

Marjorie—Crimson Countess—looked like she didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Her perfectly manicured fingers clenched into fists at her sides, and she sputtered for a second before finding her voice. “Busy? You call this busy?”

Ben chuckled, deep and throaty, not missing a beat. “Yeah, sweetheart. Busy. You know, this thing we’re doing here. Real complicated. Takes focus.”

You couldn’t help but throw in your own dig, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you smirked up at her. “You could always pull up a chair, Marj. Take notes if you need ‘em.”

Her face flushed crimson, almost matching the ridiculous red getup she always wore. “You’re disgusting. Both of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Ben grunted, “you’re still standing there, so clearly you’re not that disgusted. Maybe you’re into it.”

“Or maybe you’re just curious,” you added with a wicked grin. “It’s okay. We all know you’re not getting it like this from anyone else.”

That set her off. She threw her hands up in frustration, her voice rising in pitch. “You’re seriously doing this while I’m standing right here?”

“Damn right, we are,” Ben said, his tone casual, as if he was discussing the weather and not in the middle of absolutely wrecking you. “Not like you’re gonna stop us, are you?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as Ben’s pace quickened, but you were having too much fun watching Marjorie squirm. Her eyes darted between the two of you, disbelief etched into every line of her face.

“This is fucking sick,” she spat, taking a step closer to the bed but keeping her distance like she was afraid to get too close.

“Sick?” you laughed, arching an eyebrow at her. “Nah, this is fun. But you wouldn’t know, would you? Too busy playing PR princess while we’re back here doing the real work.”

Ben let out a bark of laughter. “Real fucking work, yeah.”

Marjorie’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, you thought she might actually lunge at you. But instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, her voice cold. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, Ben, but this is gonna blow up in your face. The public—”

“Fuck the public,” Ben cut her off, his tone sharp. “I don’t give a damn what they think. They don’t matter.”

You grinned up at him, locking eyes as you added, “And neither do you, Marjorie. Not here, not now.”

She looked like she’d been slapped, her lips twitching as she tried to come up with a response. But there was nothing she could say that would matter, not when Ben had made it clear that he didn’t give a shit about her or anyone else.

Ben slowed down just enough to smirk down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Think she’ll stick around for the grand finale?”

You laughed, not bothering to hide the wicked gleam in your eye. “Maybe she’ll take a few notes after all.”

“Doubt it,” Ben grunted. “She’s too uptight.”

Marjorie’s face was flushed red, her breathing ragged as she stood there, hands still balled into fists. “You two are fucking insane.”

“Maybe,” Ben agreed, his voice thick with sarcasm. “But at least we’re having a good time. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll pass,” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. “Enjoy your little game while it lasts.”

“Oh, trust me,” you shot back, grinning. “We are.”

She stood there for another few seconds, her eyes darting between the two of you before she finally turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her with enough force to make the walls rattle.

“Fucking drama queen,” Ben muttered, his eyes still locked on you, his breath coming in rough, heavy bursts.

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the now-empty room. “She really thought she could do something, didn’t she?”

Ben shook his head, still chuckling. “Dumb as a sack of bricks.”

“Yep,” you agreed, your laughter subsiding as you arched your back, pushing up against him. “Now, where were we?”

He grinned down at you, that familiar cocky smile spreading across his face as he rolled his hips again, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. “Right about here, I think.”

“Good,” you murmured, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Because I wasn’t done.”

Ben smirked, his grip on your hips tightening. “Neither was I, sweetheart.”

For a moment, the encounter with Crimson Countess was nothing more than a vague memory, something to laugh about later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the way your bodies moved together, the way every touch, every word, sent sparks of electricity shooting through your veins.

You knew this wasn’t normal—not by anyone’s standards. Most people didn’t keep going when someone walked in, especially someone like her. But you and Ben? You didn’t give a fuck. You never had, and you never would.

That was part of the fun.

“Think she’s gonna run crying to PR?” you asked breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair as he moved faster.

“Let her,” Ben growled, his eyes blazing with that familiar mix of arrogance and lust. “Let her tell whoever the fuck she wants. I don’t care.”

You couldn’t help but grin. That was why you liked being with Ben. He didn’t care about appearances, about what people thought. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and didn’t apologize for it.

And neither did you.

The two of you were a match made in hell, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The tension built between you, the air crackling with electricity as you moved together, faster and faster, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel your muscles tightening, the familiar heat pooling in your stomach as you hurtled toward release, and from the look in Ben’s eyes, he was right there with you.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice low and rough. “Show me what you’ve got.”

You bit your lip, a moan escaping your throat as you arched against him, your body shuddering as the tension finally snapped. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

Ben wasn’t far behind, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He let out a low, guttural moan as he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with every breath.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your breathing, the only sign of the chaos that had just unfolded. You lay there, tangled together in the sheets, bodies still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

Eventually, Ben rolled off of you, propping himself up on one elbow as he reached for his discarded cigar. “Think she’s gonna tell Vought?”

You snorted, running a hand through your sweat-dampened hair. “Who gives a shit?”

He lit the cigar, taking a long drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke into the room. “Damn right.”

You couldn’t help but grin as you lay there, feeling a sense of satisfaction settle over you. You didn’t care what Crimson Countess did, or what Vought thought. All that mattered was the moment, the thrill of it all, and the fact that, for now, you and Ben were untouchable.

“Next time, maybe lock the door,” you said with a smirk, glancing over at the still-open door.

Ben laughed, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “Why? Adds to the fun.”

You shook your head, still grinning as you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

With Ben, things were always unpredictable, always chaotic. But that was exactly why you kept coming back for more.

2022:

You stood at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping eggs like it was second nature. The sizzle of the pan filled the small kitchen, a comforting sound that grounded you in the present moment. The sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue across the countertop. Everything seemed peaceful, normal even—well, as normal as things ever got.

Behind you, Ben was grumbling as usual. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest, cigar clamped between his teeth. His face twisted in that all-too-familiar sneer of disdain as he scrolled through his phone, eyes narrowed at the screen like it was personally offending him.

“Jesus Christ,” Ben muttered around the cigar. “What the hell is this shit? Who the fuck needs a phone that talks to you? Back in the day, we just picked up the damn thing and dialed.”

You couldn’t help but snicker under your breath. “Welcome to the future, old man.”

Ben scoffed, taking a long drag from his cigar before blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. “Yeah, well, the future’s fucking stupid. Half the shit they got nowadays is useless. What happened to good old-fashioned simplicity, huh? You know, when a car was just a car and not a goddamn spaceship?”

“You sound like a cranky grandpa,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him with a smirk. “Next, you’re gonna tell me how much better everything was ‘back in your day.’”

“Because it was,” Ben shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t have to deal with all these gadgets and apps and…what the hell’s this thing?” He held up his phone, jabbing a finger at the screen. “A fucking smart refrigerator? Why the hell would I need my fridge to talk to me? Just keep my beer cold and shut the fuck up.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the stove as you scooped the eggs onto a plate. “Sounds like you’re just too old to figure it out, Ben.”

He let out a bark of laughter, stepping closer until you could feel the heat of his body behind you. “Too old? Sweetheart, I’m in my prime. These tech bros just don’t know how to make shit that works.”

“Right,” you replied, sarcasm thick in your tone as you leaned forward to grab a plate. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Ben moved closer, his large hands finding your hips as he pressed himself against your back. The familiar weight of his body was warm and solid, grounding you even as he continued his rant. “You’re telling me you like all this high-tech bullshit? What happened to just waking up, grabbing a cup of coffee, and going about your day without some gadget asking you to rate your sleep or telling you how many steps you’ve taken?”

You laughed softly, your hands steady as you set the plates on the counter. “It’s not that bad. Just different. People like convenience.”

“Convenience, my ass,” Ben grumbled, his voice low in your ear as his hands roamed lazily from your hips up your sides. “It’s just making people soft. Too much reliance on these machines. Hell, half of ‘em probably don’t know how to change a tire anymore.”

You leaned back into him, feeling the rumble of his voice vibrate through his chest. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not one of those people.”

“Damn right you’re not,” Ben muttered, his hands slipping lower, fingertips brushing along the hem of your shirt. He was getting handsy again, not that you minded—usually.

But then, his hand dipped lower, skimming over your stomach, and your body tensed. It was subtle, a brief stiffening of your muscles, but enough that you felt the change. Your breath hitched for just a second, your heart skipping an uneven beat.

Ben didn’t seem to notice at first, his lips grazing the side of your neck as he grunted something under his breath. But you could feel the tightening in your chest, that uncomfortable sensation creeping up on you, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment. “You good?”

You forced a chuckle, shaking off the tension as quickly as it had come. “Yeah, fine. Just—got a weird cramp. Probably from standing too long.”

Ben’s grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t pull away entirely. His breath was warm against your ear as he spoke, his tone more curious than concerned. “Cramp, huh?”

You nodded, turning the stove off and focusing on dishing up the food. “Yeah, nothing serious. Just one of those things.”

Ben was silent for a beat, his gaze lingering on you as if he could sense something was off, even if he didn’t know what it was. But, true to form, he didn’t push. He never was one for digging into emotions, at least not unless they were his own.

“Well, if it’s nothing serious, then I guess we can keep going later,” he said with a smirk, his hands squeezing your hips again before giving you a playful slap on the ass.

You rolled your eyes, the tension in your chest easing slightly as you grabbed the plates. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Damn right,” Ben said, swaggering over to the table like he owned the place. “And you love it.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Despite everything, despite the complicated mess that was your life, there was something comforting about Ben’s rough-edged confidence, the way he bulldozed through every situation like nothing could touch him. It was like having a storm in your corner—loud, chaotic, and impossible to ignore, but also undeniably powerful.

Still, as you sat down across from him, the brief flicker of unease from earlier lingered in the back of your mind, a shadow that wouldn’t quite go away.

Ben took a bite of his eggs, glancing up at you between chews. “You’re quiet today. What, did I finally wear you out?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not even close, old man.”

“Old?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You wanna talk about old? I’ll show you old when we hit round two later.”

“Pretty sure you’re already on round fifty by now,” you teased, taking a bite of your own food. “Might need to slow down before your back gives out.”

“Fuck you,” Ben grinned, clearly amused. “You wish you could keep up with me.”

You grinned back, the banter lightening the mood, but that tension in your stomach still hadn’t fully disappeared. Ben’s hand on your stomach—it had been nothing, just an absent-minded touch, but it had brought back memories you’d buried a long time ago, memories you didn’t want to face right now.

You shoved them down, locking them away where they couldn’t reach you. Not today. Not while Ben was here, running his mouth about the good ol’ days and griping about technology. You weren’t going to let the past creep in and ruin your morning.

“So,” Ben said, leaning back in his chair and taking another drag of his cigar, “what’s the plan for today? Gonna make me breakfast every morning from now on, or was this a one-time deal?”

You smirked, leaning back in your own chair. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not your maid.”

Ben laughed, a low, rough sound that sent a thrill down your spine. “Damn shame. You make a hell of an omelet.”

You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the half-eaten plate in front of him. “You mean these eggs?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Close enough.”

Shaking your head, you got up to clear the table, but Ben’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. He pulled you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“Let’s skip the dishes,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Got something else in mind.”

You felt that familiar heat rise in your chest, your body responding to his touch despite the lingering discomfort from earlier. But still, there was a part of you that hesitated, a part of you that couldn’t shake the memories his touch had stirred up.

“Ben,” you started, but he cut you off with a kiss, his lips rough and demanding against yours.

Whatever you had been about to say was forgotten, lost in the heat of the moment as you gave in, letting yourself get swept up in the chaos that was Ben. His hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your skin as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

For now, the past could stay buried. You had enough to deal with in the present.

You pulled into Georgia’s driveway, the crunch of gravel under the tires the only sound as Ben sat next to you, looking about as out of place as a bear in a tea shop. He was fidgeting with his cigar, lighting it for the third time since you’d left your place. He glanced at the house with narrowed eyes, lips pulled into a scowl. You could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“Remind me again why the hell we’re doing this?” Ben asked, his voice gruff, irritation evident as he took another drag from his cigar. “I’m not exactly the family man type.”

You chuckled, pulling the keys from the ignition and turning to face him. “Because it’s polite to visit people, Ben. Especially when they’re family. You’ll be fine. Just don’t swear every other sentence, alright?”

Ben scoffed, leaning back in his seat and blowing smoke out of the window. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just sit there like a good little puppy and pretend to give a shit about... what? Kids' soccer games? PTA meetings? Jesus, I’m already regretting this.”

“They’re not asking you to join the PTA, relax. Just... be nice. Try not to traumatize the kids.”

Ben muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. You both knew this wasn’t his scene—family gatherings, kids running around, small talk with people who weren’t about to get shot or punched. But this visit wasn’t about him; it was about Georgia, your niece, who you hadn’t seen properly in years.

You got out of the car, and Ben followed with his usual swagger, rolling his shoulders as though preparing for a battle. You had to hide a grin—he was more nervous than he let on, and the idea of him being awkward around kids was just plain funny.

As you approached the door, it swung open to reveal Georgia standing there with a broad smile. “Auntie! You’re here!”

She wrapped you in a tight hug, and you smiled, hugging her back. She was all grown up now, in her forties with kids of her own, but she still had that sweet energy she’d always had. There was a part of you that found it almost grating, but the pride you felt for her managed to outweigh the disdain.

“Of course I’m here,” you said, pulling back to look at her. “I’m not gonna miss a chance to catch up.”

Georgia’s gaze flickered to Ben, standing awkwardly beside you, his cigar clenched between his teeth as though it was the only thing holding him together. “And you brought... Soldier Boy.”

“Yeah, well, he’s hard to shake off,” you teased, nudging Ben in the ribs with your elbow.

Ben grunted, giving Georgia a half-hearted nod. “Nice place you got here.”

Georgia smiled, a little unsure of how to respond to Ben’s gruff demeanor but polite as ever. “Thanks! Come on in, both of you. Ryan and the kids are in the living room.”

You and Ben followed her inside, stepping into the cozy warmth of the house. The smell of baking cookies wafted from the kitchen, and the faint sound of children’s laughter echoed from the other room. The normalcy of it all hit you like a wave—this was the life you could’ve had, maybe. If things had been different.

Ryan, Georgia’s husband, was sitting on the couch with their kids—a girl about seven and a boy around eleven. The boy, Liam, looked up at you with curious eyes, while the girl, Ella, was more focused on her tablet.

“Hey, Auntie,” Ryan greeted, getting up from the couch and offering a hand to Ben, who hesitated for a split second before shaking it.

Ben wasn’t much for pleasantries, but at least he was trying. “Ryan,” Ben said, his tone short but not entirely dismissive.

You smiled and sat down next to Georgia on the couch, the familiar comfort of family making you relax. Ben, however, stayed standing for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do with himself before eventually taking a seat next to you, his broad frame practically swallowing the chair.

The small talk began—how the kids were doing, Georgia’s job, Ryan’s latest project at work. Ben mostly grunted in response, keeping his words to a minimum as he watched the kids with a wary eye, like they might attack at any moment.

After a while, Georgia stood up, clapping her hands together. “Alright, Auntie, you ready to help me finish up those cookies?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I remember how to bake?”

“Come on,” she laughed. “You used to be good at it. Besides, we’ll let the guys bond, right?”

You shot Ben a quick glance. The thought of leaving him alone with Ryan and the kids was mildly amusing, but also concerning. Still, you figured he could manage for a few minutes. “Alright, lead the way.”

As you followed Georgia into the kitchen, you heard Ben grunt behind you. “Don’t take too long. I’m not exactly the babysitting type.”

Ryan chuckled. “You’ll be fine, man. It’s just kids.”

In the kitchen, Georgia handed you an apron, which you waved off, and set out some dough for the cookies. As you started rolling it out, she glanced at you, her expression softening.

“So... what’s going on with you and Soldier Boy? Are you guys... a thing?”

You paused, your hands stilling for a moment before you resumed rolling the dough. “A thing? I wouldn’t call it that.”

Georgia frowned, her curiosity piqued. “But you came here together. You’re, like, a couple, right?”

You sighed, knowing this conversation was going to happen eventually. “It’s... complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

You shot her a look, trying to decide how much to explain. “We’ve got an arrangement. We’re... close, but it’s not exactly the whole flowers and dates kind of deal.”

Georgia tilted her head, trying to wrap her head around it. “So, you’re... not dating?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” you admitted, smirking at how understated that was. “It works for us. We’re both rough around the edges, not really the romantic type, you know?”

Georgia raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t push further. “Alright. As long as you’re happy.”

You snorted. “Happiness is overrated. But yeah, I’m good.”

She didn’t quite seem to buy it but let it go for the moment. Instead, she started telling you about Ella’s latest school project and how Liam was getting into sports, and you let yourself get lost in the simplicity of family life, even if it wasn’t yours.

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Ben was having a slightly different experience.

Liam, the eleven-year-old, had been watching him closely ever since you left the room. Eventually, he scooted closer, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Hey, Soldier Boy,” Liam said, his voice hesitant but eager. “Can I ask you something?”

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ryan, who was distracted by something on TV. “What is it, kid?”

Liam fidgeted, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “How does... uh... how does sex work?”

Ben blinked, completely caught off guard. For a moment, he just stared at the kid, processing what he’d just heard. “What the hell?”

Liam’s eyes went wide. “I mean, I just... I heard some stuff at school, and I thought maybe you’d know.”

Ben sighed, running a hand over his face. This was definitely not in his wheelhouse. He glanced toward the kitchen, silently cursing you for leaving him alone with this.

“Look, kid,” Ben started, leaning forward, “sex... it’s complicated. You don’t need to worry about it yet. But when the time comes, you do it like a man.”

Liam blinked. “Like a man?”

“Yeah,” Ben continued, clearly out of his depth but powering through anyway. “You don’t... overthink it. Just, you know, be confident. Be in charge.”

Liam nodded, though he looked more confused than enlightened.

“Right,” Ben muttered, realizing how unhelpful he was being. “Look, maybe ask your dad, alright?”

Just then, Ryan glanced over, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Ask me what?”

Liam hesitated, glancing between his dad and Ben before shaking his head. “Nothing, never mind.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow but let it go. Ben, on the other hand, was desperately hoping the topic would never come up again.

Back in the kitchen, you were helping Georgia place the cookies on a tray when you heard Liam’s voice echo from the living room, asking about sex. You froze, eyes widening as you shot Georgia a look.

She chuckled nervously. “Uh... should we intervene?”

You shook your head, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Let’s see if Ben can handle it.”

After a few minutes, you and Georgia returned to the living room, carrying a plate of freshly baked cookies. Ben was still sitting on the chair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, while Liam was quietly munching on a cookie, his mind clearly still processing whatever Ben had said.

“So,” you said, setting the plate down on the coffee table, “everything go alright while we were gone?”

Ben shot you a look that could’ve melted steel. “Peachy.”

Georgia laughed, shaking her head as she sat down next to Ryan. “Well, I’m glad you two could make it. It’s been a while.”

You smiled, relieved that the worst of it was over. “Yeah, it’s good to catch up. Even if Ben here had an... interesting conversation with Liam.”

Ryan chuckled, glancing at Ben. “So, how’s your visit been?”

Ben cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. “It’s been... different.”

Georgia gave you a questioning look, clearly curious about the nuances of your relationship with Ben. You just shrugged, deciding to keep things light.

“Different is one way to put it,” you said, glancing at Ben. “But it’s been good.”

You and Ben trudged back into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind you with a familiar thud. The evening had been a whirlwind of awkward interactions and half-baked explanations, and you were more than ready to escape into the solace of your own space. Ben, still visibly perturbed by the entire experience, tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and slouched against it with a sigh.

“Well, that was a goddamn circus,” he muttered, reaching for the bottle of whiskey you both kept in the cupboard. He poured himself a generous glass, taking a long swig before turning to face you. “Never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad to be back here.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and tried to shake off the strange discomfort that had lingered from the visit. Your thoughts had been preoccupied with a myriad of things throughout the evening—your niece’s sweetness, the kids’ innocent curiosity, and a gnawing sense of something unspoken.

Ben caught your distant look and raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you grabbed a glass for yourself and poured a modest amount of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled inside the glass, offering a brief distraction from the conversation you were about to dive into. “Just thinking. That’s all.”

Ben took another sip, clearly not buying your casual demeanor. “Thinking about what? Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on how I handled the kid’s question about sex.”

You winced slightly, the memory still vivid. “Not exactly. Just… other things.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, his expression softening with a touch of genuine curiosity. “Like what?”

You hesitated, weighing whether or not to dive into the topic. The conversation about kids had been avoided during the visit, and it wasn’t exactly a subject you were eager to tackle. But Ben’s probing look made it clear he wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Well, since you asked,” you said, taking a deep breath and settling into a nearby chair. “I was just thinking about… if we’d ever wanted kids.”

Ben’s face twisted in thought as he settled into the chair opposite you, his posture casual but attentive. “Kids, huh? Funny you mention that. I’ve definitely thought about it before.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You have?”

Ben nodded, taking another swig from his glass. “Yeah. Back when I was with Marjorie, we had these… grand plans, you know? The whole family thing. Thought it’d be great to have a kid or two running around. But then life happened, and… well, I guess that’s not on the cards anymore.”

You nodded, a touch of sadness flickering across your face despite your efforts to stay composed. “Yeah, life happens.”

There was a brief silence as Ben stared into his glass, the room filled with the soft clinking of ice. You could sense the weight of his unspoken regrets and the path his life had taken, and it struck a chord with you. But you were far more adept at masking emotions than Ben, and you focused on maintaining your tough exterior.

“Did you ever want kids?” Ben asked, breaking the silence, his eyes still fixed on his drink.

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the edge of your glass a little tighter. “I don’t know. I never really thought much about it.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Never? Not even when you were younger?”

You shook your head, forcing a casual tone despite the tightness in your chest. “Not really. Things were always so… unpredictable. I guess I never thought I’d have a stable enough life to think about having kids.”

Ben leaned forward, his expression softening. “You know, I always figured you’d be great with kids. You’ve got that… protective streak.”

You looked away, feeling a pang of unease. “Yeah, well, things don’t always work out the way you plan.”

Ben took another drink, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. “True enough. But sometimes, it’s worth thinking about what might have been, you know? Even if it’s just for a moment.”

You nodded, the words hitting closer to home than you’d expected. “Yeah, I suppose.”

The conversation fell into another silence, the clinking of glasses and the faint hum of the city outside filling the void. You took a sip of your whiskey, trying to steady your nerves as you thought about the life you’d lived and the choices you’d made.

Ben broke the silence with a chuckle. “You know, I think we’d have made a hell of a team if we’d ever decided to have kids.”

You managed a wry smile. “Yeah? How’s that?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, you’d be the strict one, keeping them in line, and I’d be the one teaching them how to break the rules.”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Ben’s grin widened. “You’d have made a great mom, you know.”

The compliment, however casual it was, made you stiffen. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Thanks. I suppose.”

Ben seemed to pick up on the shift in your mood, though he didn’t comment on it directly. Instead, he just took another drink and studied you with a thoughtful look. “But hey, we’re still here, still kicking. And that’s something.”

You nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. That’s something.”

The conversation drifted away from the topic of kids as you both delved into more trivial matters, the evening winding down with a sense of settled familiarity. But the discussion had left you with a lot to think about. Ben’s offhand remarks about children and what could have been stirred up old emotions, ones you weren’t entirely prepared to confront.

As the night wore on and you both settled into a more relaxed routine, the weight of the earlier conversation lingered, a reminder of the paths you’d taken and the choices you’d made. And while Ben seemed content to move on, you found yourself grappling with the implications of what might have been, even as you masked your thoughts with a veneer of nonchalance.

Fuck.

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[blazehedgehog]

Got a top 5 or 10 most wanted Fortnite skins?

I've been playing Fortnite regularly since 2019. I've had every Battle Pass since Chapter 2. I get free currency daily for having a Fortnite Founders Pass (hence why I have every Battle Pass).

I am drowning in so many skins that the 100 locker presets Epic gives you is nowhere near enough. Every time I get or buy a new skin, I have to make the hard decision of what I can safely replace.

It actually genuinely influences my spending habits because I'll think, "I've wanted this guy for a long time, but I don't feel like deleting anything for him."

If you mean: are there any skins not in Fortnite that I really want? I don't know if I can answer that. Partially because of what I just described, but partially also because of "Santa's Lap Syndrome" where I'm sure I've said "oh I want that in Fortnite" but now I cannot for the life of me remember a single thing.

Following through on Samus would be nice, I guess. It seems like she was really close to releasing and then got held up at the last second. There's a fair amount of evidence in her favor (but this post is long enough as it is), and I was all prepped an ready to buy her back when I thought she was right around the corner.

As for skins already in the game, I can just skim a list to tell you that.

Envoy. She's priced cheap and I think she's cute.

I'd love to have Calamity, but she's a battle pass and as such will never rerun. She's just a cool cowgirl and has lots of alt styles.

I've come very close to buying ISO and her male counterpart. They're actually in the shop as I'm writing this. FIGHTING POLYGON TEAM

Sandshark Driver reminds me of Gum from Jet Set Radio. That's enough for me.

Mezmer is another guy I've come EXTREMELY close because I think his mask is rad.

I think Peekaboo's juggalo/goth clown alt is hilarious but I've never been able to bite the bullet and buy her.

The Joker is fun but he's always a real money skin and he's only sold in a pack with other stuff for like $30. Barf.

Mariana looks super cool but I wonder how visible she is at night.

Trog was a Battle Pass skin so he's gone forever.

I like Errant because you can apply gun wraps to his armor, giving him hundreds of customization options. But I own another skin that functions somewhat similarly.

Silver Surfer just looks cool.

I have Deadpool, so the other X-Force members just make sense, like Domino and Cable.

I regret not being on the ball enough to get this Playstation Blue variant of Versa. (it was free for PS+ subs) Vanilla Versa is definitely a "one day when I have enough vbucks to spare, I'll buy her."

The Classic Storm Trooper is also just a good in that "I always had this skin in Quake 3" way.

Blackheart is another Battle Pass skin I would die for. Blackheart/Blakebeard is one of THE best characters in STW, Fortnite's campaign mode. AND HE HAS GHOST PIRATE STYLES

Dire is yet another Battle Pass skin I missed. He was the Halloween skin one year and is basically just a cool werewolf, and you can toggle how far in to the transformation he is.

Spider Knight is just a cool looking... uh, Knight. Really, I also want his glider, which is a giant flying black widow spider. But the skin looks great, too.

I've come very close to buying Ghost Rider.

I've waffled back and forth on Rustler because I don't know how much value there is for me personally in just going "hur hur it's my little pony." It's still funny it exists, though.

I've thought about getting the OG Beef Boss, but I already own a couple of other variants, so it's less important now. Same for Tomato Tom.

They put a freakin Gundam Wing parody (Sentinel) in the Battle Pass and it is maybe my #1 regret not having it.

Sometimes I want Crackshot, but I have a friend who uses him pretty often, so it'd be kind of weird? (Another STW all-star character)

When I first started playing, Moisty Merman was the top of my most-wanted list. Now I've wondered if I still care.

Deadfire is in the same camp as Calamity as far as "cool cowboys" go, but this guy is also a phantom cowboy. Double cool!

Order Remnant is the same category as Envoy where he's not very expensive and I just like the way he looks.

Madcap is a fun concept for a character and I like his colors.

A World War 1 gas mask guy is a weird thing to see in Fortnite, and that's the entire reason I want Sky Stalker.

I don't like Chiara's default (with the silver paint), but I love her alt.

I didn't love Kill Bill, but something about Siren is still cool.

Taskmaster is like The Joker where I'd like to have him, but he's in an expensive real-money pack and no thanks.

Eternal Voyager was a Battle Pass skin from the season before I started playing regularly and he's awesome. That skull alt...

...Honestly? That's a lot more than I expected. And I'm probably forgetting or missing some. For comparison, here's a (also probably incomplete) list of all the skins I already own.

If I had to boil it down to a top ten most wanted, I'd say: Chiara, Versa, Mezmer, Ghost Rider, Sky Stalker, Taskmaster, Madcap, Deadfire, Domino and ISO, I guess.

[goodgaymckay]

I'm having a catboy brain drain rn. Picture this: STW catboys. In a weird catboy universe. It started me with imagining Scott curling himself up nice on a warm bed next to a fan and within the span of an hour has evolved into me KNOWING his house fucking reeks during his heat. They live in a word with free catboy health care and sex ed education yet Scott is total shit at taking care of his heats.

His parents never taught him and he missed catboy sex ed because he was in heat and thought he was DYING. So he just thinks he's a super freak because he has hard heats. Literally spends 5-7 days a week hiding in his empty dark room and sometimes his heats last double the length of a normal heat. Dudes not on heat (?) Control at all and has them inconsistently.

He only goes out for short Busts because he's afraid he'll get his heat in public then get victim blamed for being used like a free use whore so he hides at home and Jack's off at the thought of it.

He never cleans up after himself either so they guys take note of the smell radiating from his room. After following the sounds of his whines they find him all bundled up pathetically jacking it. He starts crying about how lonely he feels and how they all hate him like in that Christmas special. The guys feel pretty bad or him so they get him water and cuddle him a bit before fucking him like crazy then hosing him down in the shower. They (mostly Jeb, rex and Jerry but Jerry and rex just makes more if a mess) clean up a bit. They all pitch In to buy him febreze, food and a generic puberty your body and you book.

Since then they've been coming over to help Scott with his heat.

Scott basically has extreme catboy PCOs.

Rex and jeb Snuggle together a lot especially during heats.

(I'm fighting the melatonin to write this out I'm sorry if it makes no sense, I'm insane)

I’m kind of obsessed w Scott having catboy PCOS. Like he only has a heat once every few months but when he does it’s BAD

he just wants to be held and told it’s okay and I’m glad Jeb Rex and Jerry r all there for him that’s cute

god. I bet he’s so lazy about getting off, doesn’t even touch himself properly, just keeps his palm over it and thrusts the tip between his fingers. Just waiting for a big man to come and take him. Finally fix him. Make him feel good.

[kartonidze]

I was admiring your stw respectfully and when I looked down my jaw actually dropped 😂

it's just there is no way his shirt stay tucked during the fight without at least garters 🙏 after I saw stw in the webtoon, this thought lives rent free in my head