#like yeah this site is fucked up a lot of the time but fucking hell can we stop acting like its a personal moral failing fir ppl to like

[robitherat]

Man just saw someone saying that "flaunting" the fact that they spent money on the stupid little blue checkmarks on here when "there's countless donation posts floating around" makes you a bad person and just like. Congrats you reinvented catholic guilt on tumblr.

[lexosaurus]

Ghost Boy? In my college class? It's More Likely Than You Think

[ao3 link]

Warnings: None Words: 6,031

****

College was crazy. 

Okay?

There was absolutely no reason why college had to be as insane as it was.

Alright, maybe there was a reason. A reason called, "We have four years to make these students professionals in their chosen field, and some even less time than that."

Danny understood. He really, truly did. He knew that to work in his dream job at NASA, he needed to learn not just how to locate the constellations in the night sky, but also about subjects like chemistry, biology, calculus, physics—a lot of physics.

But seriously, when the hell was a guy supposed to sleep?

Last night's problem set only had five questions, theoretically. But it was run by a completely sadistic site that Vlad himself must have designed—that bastard—because while submitting a correct answer seemed to mark one of the five outlined stars in gold, the site also seemed to be more than happy to remove the gold star if he got a problem incorrect. 

Which meant that the theoretical five-questioned assignment ended up taking Danny many, many more questions than that. 

Just when he had thought the hell was over, he realized he still hadn't begun his paper for his mandatory freshman writing class. So then, he got the absolute pleasure of writing an essay about a stupid, Victorian-era play he didn't read regarding the symbolism of a hat as it related to...foreshadowing, or something. 

He didn't read it. He only signed up for this dumb writing seminar because the timing worked better on his schedule. He'd much rather be taking the writing class about horror novels. But unfortunately, that one happened during his mandatory physics course.

When it was all over and he finally caught sight of his pillow, he was pretty sure he’d shed a single tear. Did he remember sinking into the mattress? Closing his eyes, and drifting off?

No. He didn't. 

He was fucking tired.

But apparently, the universe did actually hate him because instead of being roused by his alarm the next morning, he was shaken by his ghost sense.

Oh yeah, apparently Skulker found his dorm.

Joy!

No seriously, fuck that guy. 

What the hell kind of sick weirdo wants to make a rug out of someone else's skin, anyway? Not to mention that Skulker had no conception of what a good time to hunt was, considering he seriously was trying to start chaos at five in the fucking morning.

Again, fuck that guy.

He only just barely had enough time to fly home, shower, hastily read over and submit his essay (he'd long since learned from high school that he couldn't trust himself that late at night to be coherent), and make a mad dash to his favorite bagel spot on the way to class.

However, the bagel guy—he had a name, Danny was almost sure—must have been under the weather today because, for some reason, he could not stop staring at Danny.

The instinct to run his hand over his face to check for post-fight ectoplasm splatters was a learned reaction at this point. But this time, he couldn't feel anything off. His skin was dry. Cold, like usual, but dry.

"Uh..." The bagel guy continued staring at him slack-jawed.

"Do I have something on my face?" 

That seemed to shake the bagel guy out of his stupor. He blinked, his eyes darting around to catch the eye of a few other customers who, for some reason, were giving Danny a really wide berth.

Did he smell or something? Had he forgotten to put his deodorant on?

Oh god, did his parents do something to make national news again? Did the news use a family photo when reporting the story or something? Why was everyone looking at him? Seriously, what the hell was going on today?

The bagel guy locked eyes with Danny once more, briefly, before darting back down to the register and handing Danny his change. "One everything bagel with cream cheese for the, uh—for—coming right up."

"Thanks," Danny said, trying to be as friendly as possible. Jazz always said that he shouldn't judge people for acting strange. That they could be going through something personal.

So, Danny shook it off. Maybe he missed a chunk of ectoplasm on his hair when he was showering. Skulker had nailed his shoulder pretty well. The green, ecto-infused smoothie he'd sipped that morning was working its magic to mend his skin, but who knew? Maybe a little bit of blood was leaking through his shirt. It wouldn't be the first time that happened, anyway.

Or the last.

Amazingly, he did get his bagel. But when the man handed it to Danny, his eyes were almost popping out of his skull. His heavily accented, "Ah, here is one—ah, your—your bagel," sounded especially halted today. 

But no. The big, gruff bagel guy wouldn't have stuttered. He wouldn't have been nervous to pass a bagel to a tired-looking college student either.

Danny must have misheard. 

He darted down the sidewalk. He was going to be late for class. And it was because of his internal panic that he didn't notice the girl with her nose buried in her cell phone at first. Not until she almost crashed into him, looked up, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"HOLY SHIT!" she yelled, her hands flailing beside her. Her phone flew out from her fingers and clattered on the pavement.

"Sorry!" Danny scooped up her phone from the ground and handed it to her.

She stared at him as if he were completely insane, making no move to take the phone until Danny leaned forward a little closer and pointedly said, "Here."

Whether or not this girl was hungover or still drunk from whatever party she'd been at the night before, Danny did not have time to work around her brain. He was going to be late for class!

"Fuck," she said, eyes still glued on Danny. She did, however, finally reach out and gently take the offered cell phone.

Which was all he needed.

Mission accomplished, he whirled back around intending on continuing his fast-walk-nearly-run pace to the science building, but caught the eye of a biker who seemed to go into a similar trance as the bagel guy and ended up crashing straight into a parked car.

"Oh my god!" Danny darted over to the strewn biker. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Stay back!" the man yelled, struggling up and holding his hand out to block Danny from seeing his face.

Was this guy...cowering at him? Like he was some sort of ghost?

No, no. This was silly. Now Danny was just being paranoid.

"Just stay back!"

An oddly phrased demand, and a little biting at that, but the biker did just crash into a parked car because of Danny and that other girl—who was currently holding her phone up at Danny—so he guessed he could forgive this random dude for being a little snappish.

Danny didn't have time to dwell on this stranger anyway, because holy shit his class was starting in ten minutes and if Danny didn't get his ass to the room right now he was going to be screwed.

So with one more apology to the biker, and one more glance to the strange phone-obsessed girl, Danny adjusted the strap of his bag back over his shoulder and took off down the road.

Not literally took off. Though, he really wanted to jet through the air today. He'd had these urges to duck out of sight and fly to class before, but it never felt so compelling as right now. 

Unfortunately, the street was crowded as shit, and in between classes as it was, the building would likely be crowded too. Finding a discreet place to transform would probably take just as long as running to the classroom like his half-life depended on it. And so, the latter option it was.

Somehow, he managed to make it to class with five minutes to spare. Okay, maybe not somehow. Maybe he did risk using his flight to propel him forward a little bit. Could anyone blame him? 

College was crazy. And anyone who thought they saw a guy not quite touching the ground when he walked could have just as easily been sleep-deprived and were almost certainly hallucinating. Humans couldn't fly! Only ghosts could fly, and Danny Fenton was clearly a human college student just running to class.

Gaslight, gatekeep, ghostboss—or whatever the saying was.

Energy was buzzing in Danny’s veins, and he found it a little difficult to stay in his seat. An aftereffect of only barely using his flight powers, he was sure. His body got a taste of being airborne, and now it didn't want to return to the laws of gravity.

Danny could forgive his ghost core for that. Gravity could be very exhausting sometimes. Especially when he was in the middle of a ghost fight and his enemy was hurling him to the ground.

But he was in a lecture, and it would look weird if this random college student was hovering over his seat, so Danny forced his butt onto the chair as he dropped his bag beside him.

Whispers fluttered around him, which wasn't too unusual. People often talked in pleading freak-out whispers to their friends after an especially grueling night of homework.

Danny was about to turn to his chemistry lecture buddy and do the same—because seriously, he was going to have nightmares over that damn assignment for weeks—when he realized that his chemistry buddy was not in his usual seat.

And then, a whisper caught the attention of his enhanced eardrum.

"...ghost..."

"...Phantom..."

Ah, that explained it. 

Oh yeah, it was all coming together now.

They must have been talking about the ghost fight from this morning, the one with Skulker. This city wasn't Amity Park, so the students here weren't exactly used to ghost attacks. Of course, the initial fight was probably very exciting for them.

And, well, his parents probably were on the news that morning, but likely only to be interviewed about the attack. Maybe they ended up rambling about ghostly habits and migration patterns or whatever other bullshit theories they’d been churning with recently.

So then, the bagel guy must have recognized Danny as a Fenton, a child of Jack and Maddie, the infamous, kooky ghost experts.

The effects of that realization were delayed, but when they finally hit, he felt like his brain was hit by a semi-truck. Because, shit. He didn't know if he could deal with his bagel guy knowing who he was. He was going to have to find a new bagel spot, wasn't he? 

Danny craned his neck over to the door. The lecture was supposed to be starting, but his chemistry buddy was nowhere to be found.

But then, to his immense relief that he wouldn't have to suffer through this lecture by himself, the door opened to reveal the tall, lanky form of Cameron, his chemistry buddy.

Danny eagerly moved his bag out of the way of Cam's seat, his woes of that fucking assignment hot on his lips, but before he could begin his trauma-dumping session, something strange happened.

Really, really strange.

As Cam began habitually walking over to his seat, he looked up, caught Danny's eye, and froze.

His mouth parted into a perfect 'o,' his eyes widened, and his eyebrows disappeared under his hairline. Then, he backed up, caught the bewildered expression of another student near him, and moved to another aisle.

Danny sat there too stunned to call out to Cam, though the intent was at the precipice of his being. Hurt stabbed his gut, and the social anxiety the A-List had trained his brain for in high school started creeping up his spine.

Did Danny do something wrong? 

Why had Cam moved away?

What did that look to the other kid mean?

He tried to think of a reason why Cam might have suddenly decided that Danny was a weirdo freak that should be avoided, but the only thing he remembered doing between yesterday and today was the two texts he'd sent at eleven last night complaining about the assignment. But surely, everyone had complained, right?

Or was the assignment genuinely effortless for everyone? And Danny was just an idiot who didn't understand some really simple concept, and now Cam had suddenly realized that he'd picked the wrong chemistry buddy to sit next to in class?

That must have been it.

Why else had he moved away?

Danny turned around, looking to the back of the lecture hall. But all he could see was a sea of faces all looking at him.

Okay, honestly, what the fuck was wrong with everyone today?

He whipped out his phone, paranoia striking through his gut like a spear. Maybe he'd accidentally revealed himself during the fight? But he checked Google, searching for Phantom's human identity, but all he got at the top of the search were old Reddit threads theorizing about which historical figure he could have been, and celebrity news sites spouting completely absurd clickbait-type theories about his past.

Is Danny Phantom Napoleon's son?

Could Danny Phantom be Related to George Washington?

New Theory Suggests Danny Phantom is Alexander the Great!

Yeah, like Danny was leading legions of ghosts around Europe anytime soon.

As Danny wracked his brain for what the hell he'd done to deserve the wrath of having his classmates stare at him like he was some sort of weird alien species and everyone was plotting on how to initiate first contact, the side door opened and the professor came darting in the hall with a stack of folders all but falling out of his hands and a muttering of breathy, "sorry, sorry," light on his lips.

The muttering broke out into jilted, uncomfortable laughter, and Danny still couldn't help the feeling that they were laughing at him. 

He tried to brush that off as just the remnants of his high school on him and keep his attention focused on his short, salt-and-pepper-haired professor who looked like he couldn't remember if he was going to a beach party or Burning Man today, and decided to dress for both. 

Yang put the manila folders down on the front table, miraculously without spilling any of the contents inside, set his bag down on the rolling chair beside him, and picked up a piece of chalk to face the board.

He held a hand up and began writing Chemistry 101 — Stoichiometry on the board.

Behind Danny, the snickers grew louder. 

Was there some inside joke that he just wasn't getting? Had his classmates prepared some sort of prank for the teacher today and Danny hadn't read the email? Was it April Fool's Day, even though logic and reasoning told Danny that it was only October?

"Sorry I was late, everyone," Yang began. "Now if you don't mind, I want to begin by going over a few problems from last night's assignment. I noticed a pattern in the problems everyone was getting wrong..."

Someone coughed rather obnoxiously behind him.

Danny felt ice begin to build in his stomach. 

"...so as you can see here, I noticed a lot of people forgot to calculate the used excess of iron to find the amount of excess reactants. Remember, guys, you can't just subtract the bigger and smaller masses in the problem..."

Another obnoxious cough. 

Yang didn't break stride. "...you have to actually convert it to moles and set up your mole ratio, and then convert back to grams. I mentioned this in class but it seemed like too many of you—"

"Professor Yang?" the impatient voice of Brittany, one of his classmates, said from behind.

The class broke out in a fit of whispers and giggles, this time not even trying to hide their restlessness.

"What is it?" Yang turned around, his chalk still hovering on the board.

And then he looked at Danny. His eyes bugged out like a cartoon, sticking out beyond the rims of his glasses. His jaw opened and closed like a fish, and he dropped the chalk on the floor.

Now, the class was roaring with noise.

Danny stared eye-to-eye with the professor for ten seconds or ten minutes. He didn't know which, and it didn't matter anyway, because then Yang's thin lips opened to exclaim a word that may as well have electrocuted him all over again:

"Phantom?" 

Confusion and panic hit Danny like a sledgehammer.

How did Yang know he was Phantom? Had he been revealed? Did everyone know he was Phantom?

And then he heard the whispers. 

"It's really him! It's Phantom!"

"Why is he here?"

"It's Phantom!"

No!

No!

How did everyone know his secret?

Danny had to stop this.

He had over four years of hiding his ghost half from his parents, the world, and most impressively, his parents. Over the years, he'd honed his ability at lying and using his silver tongue to smooth over situations with such practiced ease, he was expecting his Oscar in the mail any day now.

Which is why, like an utter pro, he jumped up from his seat and shouted, "It's a lie, I'm not a ghost!"

The room went silent, and then was launched into a frenzy.

"Phantom!"

"Is he delusional?"

"It's really him! It's Phantom!"

His panic was bordering on hysteria as it stampeded over him, beating his core so furiously that Danny thought it was going to jump through his ribcage.

He stood, his gloved hands held out in front of him as he began his best at pleading with the masses, but before he could grovel too much, Professor Yang's voice sliced through him like a knife, calling out, "Phantom! What are you doing in my class?"

Wait...

Gloved hand?

Danny looked at his hands again. They were gloved.

And glowing.

The relief was so heavy on his shoulders, his back, and every inch of his skin. It was also mortifying.

Because here he was, in his Chemistry 101 class not as Fenton, but as Phantom. 

"Holy shit," Danny muttered. 

What. The. Hell.

No, really.

What the hell?

How was this happening?

Had he really been so tired that he'd forgotten to change out of his Phantom form after Skulker's fight?

No, hang on—had he been walking around in his Phantom form all morning?

How had he not noticed?

Then all the memories came flying back to him at once. The bagel guy acting weird, staring at him like he wasn't sure if he should seriously give a ghost a bagel because "Do ghosts need to eat? Is human food poison?"

And then the girl. She hadn't screamed because she nearly crashed into a stranger, she screamed and threw her phone in the air because she'd nearly crashed into Phantom. And that's why she was recording him after, too. She was recording Phantom, a ghost that wasn't native to this college town.

Danny thought he'd die of cringe-fail right there because that meant she also recorded the biker crashing into a parked car and was probably uploading it to TikTok later. He was sure it would be trending in minutes.

That was, if she hadn't already uploaded it to Tiktok, and it wasn't already trending. His phone suddenly felt heavy in his pocket. 

He looked around at the faces of intrigue and excitement, feebly attempting to squash the anxiety that was currently tap dancing over his skin.  Okay, so his initial attempt at acting hadn't gone so well. That was okay; nobody could be perfect all the time. If he just channeled the inner cool and suave hero that he was, he could totally save the situation.

For sure.

He floated a few feet in the air. His legs felt awkward sprawled out, and he tried to form a ghost-tail, but somehow his sense of self was too strong for that today. No matter, to balance it out, he splayed his arms out wide and began doing jazz hands, saying, "It's me! Danny Phantom! Just here checking your classroom for ghosts!" 

There was a moment of collective pause before his brain caught up with what his mouth said, and then he scrambled, making a big show of ducking around the room to search for...ghosts, or something. He lowered to the floor to check under the auditorium chairs, flew to the front of the room to peek around the tables, and finally went up to the ceiling to glance around the four corners of the room.

Once he felt embarrassed enough, he stopped in the center of the room, puffed out his chest, and said, "Good news, citizens! There are no ghosts in this room!"

Whispers and mutters once again broke out from his classmates, along with a few giggles. In the front of the classroom, Yang's head was craned up to look at him, his expression showing pure bafflement. 

Okay, Danny was bombing this set. He was catching onto the vibe of the room, and had come to this very astute conclusion: there was no saving this. 

Time to abort the mission.

"Well, that will be all! Have a fun class learning about chemistry!" 

And then, without another word, he jetted through the wall and into the hallway of the building, turning invisible immediately. Fortunately, with classes having started several minutes ago, the corridors were mostly empty. Only a few stragglers remained, booking it down the halls and trying to duck inconspicuously into their classrooms. 

Danny cut around a corner of the hall where, thankfully, no one was standing. That didn't stop him from triple-checking over his shoulder (it was just the water fountain, Danny) before he let his ring wash over him.

Then, when he was sure he was human again this time, he ran down the hall and pushed open the auditorium door to his class which, by the looks of things, hadn't calmed down from their encounter yet.

The door hit the wall with a bang—oops, he thought he hadn't pushed so hard—and then every head was turned to him.

"Sorry!" Danny rubbed the back of his neck and gestured vaguely to the clock on the wall. "I lost track of time."

The room was...silent. Incredibly, confoundingly silent. 

That wasn't good.

On instinct, Danny glanced down again to make sure that he was wearing his red hoodie and blue jeans and not his Phantom black and white jumpsuit. He was, in fact, wearing the right clothes. And out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the glint of his black bangs.

So then, what the fuck?

Alright, there was no need to panic. He was human, his classmates were human, they'd just met Phantom, and now Danny was busting in the classroom late. It wouldn't be the first time he was late to class, anyway. Lots of students were late for chemistry! 

With his brain sufficiently pep-talked, he pointed as inconspicuously to his seat as he could and said, "I'll just...take my seat." 

No one responded, so he took that as his cue to begin his walk of shame up the steps of the auditorium aisles to his usual seat near the front, which was still amazingly void of students anywhere near it.

"Phantom?" a voice rang out from the spattering of students around the room.

Danny missed the next step and ate shit on the floor. His bag hit his back heavily, and he could have sworn his shoe nearly flew off his feet. He scrambled to stand, his hand missing the railing only once, before he managed to stand back proud and tall. Sort of. His backpack had slid off one shoulder, and his body was hunched forward and he tried to regain his breath because holy shit, it actually really hurt for his torso to land on the corner of the step.

He rubbed his sternum, sure it was going to bruise, and coughed out, "Uh—what?"

"Phantom!" the voice, now too familiar, repeated. "You're him. Phantom."

Danny glanced up, and dread not only slammed into him with the force of a semi, but also backed up and floored it into his soul again. And again.

Because that voice was none other than his Chem 101 buddy, Cam.

No, Danny was a magnificent actor. He surely could save this one.

What did people always say? Something about the third try being a charm?

He could really use a charm right now. Unfortunately, Murphy seemed keen on watching him suffer instead.

"No—no way! I'm not a ghost! I'm totally human, guys! See?" Danny said with quite a lot of conviction, waving his hands beside his body like some sort of circus display.

It was so conclusive of a performance, that Cam simply laughed. 

Shit. This was not how he wanted today to go at all.

"I can't believe I never put it together before! Did people really buy that in your hometown?" 

"What act? I'm not acting!" Danny insisted.

But his classmates, it seemed, were even less convinced. 

"Seriously, it's so obvious."

"How did no one notice?"

"They're literally the same person it's crazy."

"What? No! No we're not the same person!" Danny insisted, trying not to sound desperate and hopelessly failing. "He's my—uh—twin? Yeah, that. He's my twin."

"He's obviously not," a classmate said.

"He is. He died in the womb," Danny refuted.

"Okay, now you're just being ridiculous."

"Does it sound better or worse if I say that my mother drank ectoplasmic smoothies while she was pregnant and that's why he turned into a ghost?"

"Fenton!" Professor Yang called out.

Danny felt his blood turn so cold they started forming frost in his veins. 

And then, he refused to look down because he was pretty sure ice crystals were glueing his feet to the floor.

In his panic, he'd totally forgotten that this was, in fact, a classroom. With a professor. And not just any professor, his chemistry professor. As in, the guy that had the sole power of crushing all of Danny's dreams of working for NASA via the power of the curve.

Yang took a step back, colliding with the chalkboard behind him and smearing white dust all over his brightly-colored shirt. But he ignored this, instead finding it more pertinent to fold his arms and regard Danny with a look of pure incredulation. "Are you really Phantom?"

"What? No!" Danny said. However, as luck would have it, that gasping answer caused him to inhale the wrong way, and coughs shot up his throat to overtake his body.

And then like the valiant superhero he was, he began having a coughing fit. In front of his classmates.

He knew Sam and Tucker always called him a dork, but this was really unfair.

"You okay, Phantom?" one student asked.

Danny tried to argue, "I'm not Phantom," but unfortunately for him, he hadn't stopped coughing yet.

Taking his silence for a confirmation that he was in fact the elusive ghost known as Phantom, another classmate commented, "I didn't know Phantom breathed."

Not-so-quiet whispers and mutters broke out around the class at once discussing theories of his cardiovascular system.

All while Danny was doubled over, trying desperately to reclaim what little of his dignity was still left. As well as reclaim some of the oxygen that his body seemed more than willing to push away for some reason.

Seriously, was he out of karma yet? 

Okay, Universe, if this is your way getting back at me for reading the Cliffnotes of that book for the essay last night, I get it. Cheating is bad, blah blah blah. I'm very sorry in a deeply remorseful way, so can we please stop ruining my life now?

"...so he wouldn't need to breathe!" A classmate's voice had stepped above the rest.

"That's what I said!"

"Dude, he's literally fallen asleep on my floor once. I'm telling you he needs to breathe."

That voice must have been Cam's.

Danny took a deep breath, regaining control of his lungs. "Wait, guys!"

But it was too late. And, oh god, why were people now giggling over their phones? Had someone taken a video of him earlier? Was he trending online right now?

If this got back to Sam and Tucker, he was never going to live this down. 

"Okay, okay!" Yang's voice rose in volume. "Class, settle down!"

The class went silent.

"Alright, I know we are all curious to know about Fenton's secret double life—"

"I don't have a secret double life!"

"Sure you don't, Phantom," Cam said.

"—But please, we do actually have quite a bit of material to cover today, judging by the very impressive homework scores from last night. And, by the way, class, might I remind you all that my office hours are on Mondays and Wednesdays from two to four. I won't name names, but I'll just say that if you need to make it a point to come for some review, you know who you are."

Was Yang looking at him?

"Regardless, if Fenton is done screwing around with his ghost powers, we do need to get through the material sometime this year."

"But I'm not a ghost!" Danny protested.

"Dude, you're standing in a block of ice," a classmate argued. 

"Holy shit, he froze his legs to the floor!"

Danny felt frost on his cheeks. "The A/C system is broken! Everyone knows that!"

"The ice is glowing." 

"So? A lot of ice glows."

"Fenton, please." Yang had never sounded so disappointed in his life. "I'd expect anyone in this class to know that ice is made of which elements?"

Danny hated where this was going. "Hydrogen and oxygen."

"And please describe the bonds to me."

"The hydrogens have a double bond with the oxygen, and then there's two pairs of electrons leftover."

"What shape?" Yang pressed, pushing his wiry glasses up his nose.

"Bent."

"Good, thank you. So we have two hydrogen and one oxygen in an H20 molecule, yes? And so tell me, would that configuration with those two elements cause anything to glow?"

"Um, no." Danny had the sudden urge to die. "Water does not glow." 

"But, interestingly, ectoplasmic water does glow, correct? Because....?"

They'd touched over ecton science earlier in the semester. "Because ectons are larger and can sit closer to the nucleus which results in atoms fusing and due to the greater amounts of energy they emit, some this excess energy can be seen in our visible spectrum."

Yang smiled and then gestured to the seat devoid of any humans near it that Danny, previously Phantom, had been sitting in at the start of class. "Thank you, Mr. Phantom. Now, if we're all done dillydallying, we have some stoichiometry to go over."

It took Danny more than a second of the awkward silence that followed to realize that oh yeah, his feet were literally frozen in place.

"So..." He glanced around the room, meeting the expectant gazes of his classmates. "Just to be clear, none of you care that I might potentially be..."

A ghost?

Phantom?

Some sort of weird mutant hybrid thing?

"Danny, you're the only one making a big deal out of this," a classmate answered.

Danny guffawed.

"Yeah, it's whatever. You're dead, so what? We're all dead in college. You're not special."

"I have a biology lecture later right after this for my weed-out course and going to that is basically the same thing as dying, I'm pretty sure," Cam joined in.

Danny resisted the urge to smack his forehead with his open palm.

He turned back to Yang. "And if I were maybe the—uh—being that kind of has saved humanity from being invaded by ghosts give or take one or two times, would that maybe get me extra credit on the next test?"

"No."

Well, that was a brutally quick response.

Danny shrugged. "It was worth a shot." He reigned in on his core's fluttering, and the ice began to melt around his feet. 

He tried to ignore the obvious phone flipped his way as he did.

Shit, this was going to be all over social media later. How embarrassing. He could only hope that Tucker wouldn't find it. But who was he kidding? If he checked his phone, he bet he already had about sixteen messages from Tucker laughing at his misfortune.

Once he finished freeing himself from his ecto-ice like some ghost toddler, he began a very graceful and humiliating trek to his seat, complete with multiple instances of him bumping into chairs as he trudged down the row. When he finally reached his seat, it was just his luck that the rusty hinges let out an obnoxious creaking wail as he lowered himself down. He winced, hissing out apologies, but in the silent hall, the sounds of the withered metal were almost too much to bear.

It was for that reason that his entire body refused to unclench until the professor was well underway with his lecture about excess reactants and whatever else they were going to be quizzed on next week.

He tried his best to pay attention and not check his phone for the no doubt endless notifications. He'd already made his presence too obvious in this hall, anyway. Professor Yang would have been thoroughly annoyed if, after everything, Danny decided to spend the remainder of the class on his phone.

Miraculous as it was, he did manage to survive the lecture.  

After class when he finally was able to check his phone, he saw that the world was too focused on the viral posts about Phantom being spotted outside of Amity Park to give any attention to the little itty bitty post of Danny, in human form, frozen to his lecture hall floor.

As it turned out, that post only had two likes—one of them was Tucker—and one comment from a random user reading, "lol why phantom freeze that dweeby kid to the ground???"

Danny didn't resist the urge to facepalm this time, and in fact did it so hard he was surprised he didn't give himself a concussion.

Well.

At least his secret was safe.

****

"You really don't care that I'm Phantom, do you?" Danny asked, looking up from the barely clean dorm room floor that his back was currently stretched out against.

"No?" Cam glanced from his notebook. "Why?"

"Uh, I figured the whole part where I'm a part ghost would have been a little weird?"

Cam's thin brows shot up to his hairline. "You're only a part ghost?"

"Yeah? Why, what did you think?"

"Oh, I just figured you were legit dead or something."

Cam uttered those words with such nonchalance that Danny reacted immediately, shooting up from the floor so hard he accidentally switched into his Phantom form.

"You thought I was dead?" His voice echoed when he spoke, and his ghostly tail wiggled underneath him. 

Cam's pointed look and handwave were explanation enough.

"Okay, you know what? That's fair." Danny swiped his notebook off the floor and forced his adrenaline-spiked body back into human form. "That's actually super fair."

"Yeah I mean, being a ghost is sort of Phantom's whole shtick, anyway."

"Right but like...wait, you didn't even care that you thought I was a fully dead and deceased ghost taking college classes? And you still wanted to do homework with me tonight?"

Cam, once again, only gave a very lazy shrug. "Well, yeah. I just want to pass this class, dude, and we've already established that we should tag-team team this class instead of trying to rawdog it by ourselves."

"I mean...I guess?" Danny blinked at his friend, his mind reeling with astonishment. "You're weird, you know that?"

"Says the ghost-human person or whatever. Now, are we gonna finish this prelab assignment, or are you gonna keep having an existential crisis about your place in the Universe?" 

Danny slid back on the floor, propping his knees up to lay his notebook against. "No, you're right. We need to finish this prelab."

"Thank fucking god."

****

[read more of my stuff here]

[torakowalski]

Swimmer Steve has reached summer 1988 and is inching closer to become Olympic Swimmer Steve!

I've got a confession. When I checked where the Olympic swimming trials were in 1988, the site I found told me Indianapolis. So I wrote this part! But then I double checked and it turns out the 1992 trials were Indianapolis but the 1988 ones were Austin. HOWEVER, it's too late, so pls accept this tiny deviation from reality.

(part one | part five)

"This is so fucking cool," Gareth yells in Eddie's ear, over all the different noises crashing around the natatorium.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, way more pleased than he wants to let on. He doesn't know why Gareth's here, but they all are: Gareth and Jeff and Chris, plus Robin and all Steve's kids.

Wayne's sitting further back with Mrs Henderson, away from some of the noise, but he's here too.

"Hell, yeah." Gareth grins at him. "How many times can you say you've seen someone you know audition for the Olympics?"

"It's not called auditioning," Chris says, elbowing him.

"It is, if you want to annoy Steve," Eddie tells him. He thinks it goes without saying that he always wants to annoy Steve.

It's blind luck that the Olympic swimming trials are happening in Indianapolis. Sure, Steve acted like it was no big deal, and said he didn't expect anyone to come, but Eddie knows how goddamn delighted he is that everyone's made it here for the second day.

Eddie's pleased too, of course he is, but he did kind of enjoy yesterday when it was just him here for the heats. Sue him, but he gets Steve to himself so often that he's maybe forgotten how to share.

There's some shuffling from further down the row of seats, and then Gareth gets shoved out the way and Dustin takes his place.

"Who are our main competitors?" he asks, looking at Eddie expectantly. He's got a notebook out and everything, like he's gonna come up with a plan to take them down.

Eddie starts to answer and realises that the rest of Steve's gang are listening in too. It dawns on him that he's the expert here. He's the one who's been up and down the country, going to meets with Steve, and he knows about this shit now.

He never thought he'd willingly learn anything about a sport, and even less that he'd admit to knowing anything, but it turns out you'll do a lot of unexpected shit when you're head over heels for a jock.

Even a straight jock. Even one who's been nothing but sweet about his stupid crush.

Speaking of which, here he comes now, golden skin and black speedos, standing out from the rest of the hopefuls, at least to Eddie.

"What happened to his chest hair?" Lucas asks, from one of the seats in front of Eddie. Their little Hawkins gang is really taking up a lot of this stadium.

"Right?" Max mutters, sounding disappointed.

Eddie tips forward to lean in between them. "He has to wax. Legs too."

"Ow," says Lucas, shuddering. "What's wrong with staying hairy?"

"You didn't say that when you asked why I hadn't shaved," Max says.

Lucas throws up his hands. "I didn't mean it that way! I've said I'm sorry and that I didn't mean it that way!"

It sounds like an old argument. The only bad thing about spending all his time with Steve these days, is that they miss a lot of the kids' day to day dramas. The ones that are too small to get relayed to them over the phone, anyway.

He knows Steve feels that too. He's planning to have a real break back home, after the Olympics. If he makes it to the Olympics. Fuck, Eddie hopes he makes it to the Olympics.

There's a buzz down below by the pool, everyone lining up for the first semi-final. Backstroke first. One of Steve's favourites.

"Okay," Eddie says, and takes a deep breath. "Here we go."

Steve makes it through all his semis easily, which Eddie had known he would, but had still panicked about.

There's a break before the finals, but Eddie unexpectedly can't make himself move. He's too keyed up, so tense and nervous for Steve that it's gone all the way around in a circle and frozen his legs.

"He's doing great!" Dustin says, easy and relaxed, because he's not worried. Whether Steve believes it or not, Dustin thinks he can do anything.

"Yeah." Eddie nods. "Yeah. Yeah, really great."

Dustin frowns at him. "... isn't he?"

Fuck, now Eddie is infecting other people with his anxiety. That's not cool. "He is doing so great," he says. "Like, fucking fantastic." He grins at Dustin, wide enough that he feels it stretch the scar on his cheek that doesn't move as easily as the rest of his face.

"So what's wrong with you?" Dustin asks.

If it was anyone else, except Wayne and maybe Gareth, Eddie would deny anything being wrong at all. But he and Dustin are bonded by like, bats and death and shit. So instead, he finds himself admitting, "He just wants this so bad. It's gonna shatter him, if he doesn't qualify."

"But he will," Dustin says. He grins crookedly at Eddie. "It's cute how much you care about him getting what he wants."

"Shut the fuck up," Eddie tells him, but affectionately.

They grab lunch while the 1500 metres guys do their semis, and they're back before the 50 metre finals.

Steve doesn't do 50 metres, says it's too short to be interesting, but Eddie thinks there's something cool about watching people whizz along down one length then be done. The fact that he enjoys races that Steve isn't even in is no good for his cred and not something he's gonna tell anyone.

Two minutes before Steve's first final, Robin drops into the seat next to Eddie. She doesn't say anything, just reaches out and clutches his hand.

Since he knows exactly how she feels, he just clutches back.

Steve qualified third fastest out of all the semi-finalists for this one, so he's in a decent, middle lane. He's easy to spot in his yellow swim cap, amongst all the reds and blacks.

"I'm gonna throw up," Robin says conversationally.

"Yup," Eddie agrees.

It's backstroke again first, so the swimmers all get into the water before the start. It feels like it's happening in slow motion, which might be because Eddie isn't breathing.

The whistle blows and they're off. It's a 200 metre race, so four lengths. Steve keeps up easily for the first length, is slightly ahead at the start of the second, but he falls behind just, just slightly right before the turn for the third.

Robin's fingernails digging into the back of Eddie's hand are all he can feel.

"Go Steve!" Max yells, followed a second later by the rest of the kids.

But Eddie already knows it's too late, Steve pushed himself too fast too early and he's not gonna catch up.

He finishes fifth. And, like, that makes him the fifth fastest guy in America in the backstroke, but fifth isn't gonna get him a spot at the Olympics.

"It's okay," Eddie hears himself saying, because the kids look kind of stunned. "It's okay, backstroke's done, we move on. He's still got three more finals; he just needs to place first or second in one of those. It's totally okay."

"What if it's not?" Robin hisses.

"Then I'm gonna cry."

She nods. "I'll join you."

Eddie watches as Steve drags himself out of the pool. He stands for a minute, then follows the others back to the changing rooms, without looking up at the stands.

He finishes third in the butterfly.

He comes second in the breaststroke, but it's a joint second, tied with some guy from Nebraska, and Eddie just doesn't know if that will be enough. What he really needs is a win.

"He's better than this," Robin says, voice hoarse from yelling Steve's name. "He is, right? He's been winning all his other meets."

"He's nervous. He's tensing up." Eddie wants to go down there and do something, anything to make Steve believe he can still do this.

It's late by the time the swimmers troop back out for the breaststroke final. Eddie's tired just from watching, he can't imagine how they all feel.

Steve's last out because he won this semi-final. He's the favourite for this one, but even across the distance between them, it's easy to see he's still frustrated with himself from the other races.

"Everyone cheer," Eddie orders before jumping up and fucking, whooping. Making a fool of himself at a sports event? He never thought he'd see the day.

Steve sees him then sees the kids join him and laughs, his whole body relaxing. He waves, waves again.

"Knock 'em dead, Harrington!" Eddie yells and ignores the looks he gets from the other families dotted around.

"Drown them!" Dustin yells, which makes Steve cover his face with his hands, but probably to hide his laughter rather than his dispair.

"He's gonna do it," Robin says. "He's got to."

Eddie sinks back into his seat, and can't say anything.

They line up, Steve dead centre this time. The whistle blows.

Steve's dive is beautiful, sends him nearly half way down the pool before he has to come up for air. He makes the first tumble turn ahead of everyone else, and then he's unstoppable. It's like he's been waiting for this moment, like everything has kicked into place.

He's in the lead for the second length, the third. A guy from California starts to creep up on him half way down the last length and Eddie has a second to think this is all gonna get snatched away, but it turns out Steve's not gonna let it.

He puts on a burst of speed that looks superhuman, fucking shoots himself through the water, leaves everyone in his wake and slaps his hand down on the end two maybe three strokes ahead of everyone else.

Their section erupts.

Dustin and Gareth and Robin all hug Eddie, like he's somehow had anything to do with this. Over their shoulders, he can see Wayne and Mrs Henderson cheering as loud as the rest of them.

He kisses Robin's cheek, says, "You're crying."

"Damn right, I am," she sniffs. She pats her hand against his cheek. "So are you."

"Huh," says Eddie, who hadn't noticed. "Your boy done good."

"Our boy," Robin says, "is going to the Olympics. You should say congrats to him with a kiss."

Eddie snorts. "Maybe I will," he says, knowing he won't. Steve doesn't want that. "Maybe I will."

(continued)

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - 1. The Night Shift

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Preview: "Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal." “Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-" You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No Outbreak! Joel Miller, Mentions of intended smut towards the reader, Boss x Employee Relationship, Virgin Reader, All of the yearning, Joel Miller is a silly flirt, A small-ish age gap, Joel is too forward for his own good, Tess is a boss (and should not be fucked with - or you get the horns).

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: Well, hello there!

I honestly have no idea where this idea of a (somewhat crack) fic came from, but I had an idea and I ran with it! A lot of the character development came from my own anxieties of feeling behind in life, and if you feel that way too, I feel you! Don't worry, I promise it won't always feel like this. Time is just that- time, and it's never too late to follow your dreams! I believe in you!

To: IT@millerconstructiongroup.com

Fr: J.Miller@millerconstructiongroup.com

Subject: I think I have a Virus?

12:50 AM (10 min ago)

Hey Sugar,

I know it's late, but my computer fritzed out an hour ago (a shit ton of pop-ups) and I have that presentation with The H Hotel tomorrow morning. Well, do you think you could do me a solid and help me... not have any more of those darn pop-ups? I called the number that popped up asking if I needed assistance with the virus and they asked for my credit card information but they haven't replied back.

Shit, was that a scam? Fuck. I should call Amex.  

Anyway, do you think you can help me get out of this bind, Sugar? I'll be forever and eternally grateful. If you don't, well... I'm sure Tess will rip me a new one, and I would like to not have a Servopoulos-level meltdown at 9 in the morning. Not after last time. Sorry about having to be a part of that, Sugar. At least Maria was able to pay for your dry cleaning and get you a new shirt? You should have let me check your chest for burns, I sure as hell wouldn't want scalding hot coffee being thrown in my direction either. Shit. Not check your chest as in checking out your... breasts, just the burn site. Yeah. That's what I meant. 

(Also, sorry for emailing you last minute. Shit. I'm desperate, baby.)

Thanks,

Joel Miller 

Owner and CEO, Miller Construction Group

(512) 123-4567

To:J.Miller@millerconstructiongroup.com

Fr: IT@millerconstructiongroup.com 

Subject: RE: I think I have a Virus?

1 AM (0 seconds ago)

Good Evening Mr. Miller,

I got your request and will work on it shortly. I can't make any promises, but I will try to get you out of your "bind".  

Don't worry about that thing with Tess. She was rightfully upset, and I just so happened to be caught in the line of fire. If it had to be one of us, I am glad it was me being pelted with boiling hot coffee, and not you in front of your clients. You didn't have to have Maria buy me a blouse from Neiman Marcus, nothing a little tide-to-go can't fix, right? Also, I knew what you meant about my chest, and I didn't think you wanted to look at my... breasts. Let's not refer to any of my body parts moving forward.

Also, I am not completely comfortable with the terms of endearment that you continuously call me, Sir. Please refer to me by my actual name, these emails are monitored by Tess and I would not like to be scalded with hot coffee again for a little misunderstanding.  

Please let me know if you have any other pressing questions or concerns.

Goodnight!

IT Specialist 0926,

IT Department, Miller Construction Group

(512) 765-4321

"Ok Bubbles, let's see what mess Mr. Miller got himself into this time."

Settling by your coffee table, you access your remote portal and insert your portable SSD, initiating various programs to gain entry into your boss's laptop. Securing your hair in a messy top bun with a claw clip, you find yourself biting your bottom lip in concentration. Simultaneously, you switch on your TV, finding solace in the ambient noise that fills your dimly lit apartment—a space shared with Sir Bubbles, your British Shorthair companion since your college days. There's a marathon of Criminal Minds airing on TBS, Spencer Reid's adorable face on screen as he rattles off another theory for why the unsub was an abuse victim by his prostitute mother. You turn the volume down a bit, drowning out his voice.

It's near silent in the little shoebox you call home, the only decent place you were able to afford with your meager savings- after slaving away as a Geek Squad IT Specialist for the majority of your twenties at the Best Buy down the road from your parent's house. Despite graduating with your MIS at the University of Texas - Dallas, finding a decent job in your industry was brutal, and, honestly, quite embarrassing after receiving 30-plus rejection emails in a span of a year. Downtrodden and desperate for a job, you settled on working at Best Buy temporarily, but by the time you hit your mid-30s, it's been eight years working for barely minimum wage, and absolutely nothing to show for it. 

"Do you remember those sweet Miller boys who fixed our roof ten years ago?" your mother asks during a Sunday dinner six months ago, sliding a boat of gravy your way as you absentmindedly drizzle it over your mashed potatoes. "I ran into the older one... Joeseph? James? He owns his own company now with his brother, quite the feat, right? They're working on that hotel down the road... anyway, Josh-"

"Joel," you correct her, nudging the over-steamed carrots around your plate. "I think his name was Joel, Mama."

"Yes, Joel," your mother dismissively waves her hands. "Well, I told him about how you were on the job hunt, you know, with your master's and all. Oh, remember when you used to have that silly little crush on him? He's grown to be quite the looker, you know? Anyway, he told me that they were looking for someone to replace their old IT person—apparently, they retired—"

"Mom," you groan, "get to the point."

"Well," she grins conspiratorially, "he wants you to apply, baby. He remembers you and your little crush, and he said he could never forget someone as cute as you. If you're as good as I claimed you were, well... the job's practically yours!"

Your fork slips from your grasp, the metallic clang against porcelain causing Bubbles to leap in surprise, hissing at you in irritation. "Wait, what?" you blurt out, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion.

Your mother beams at your reaction, seemingly pleased with the bombshell she just dropped. "I told him all about your IT skills and how you practically run the technology world from your bedroom. He seemed really interested, sweetie. And, well, it wouldn't hurt to at least consider it, right?"

You sit there, a swirl of thoughts and emotions whirling in your mind. The unexpected twist of Joel Miller, the older Miller boy you once had a crush on, remembering you and possibly offering you a job—it's surreal. Bubbles, having recovered from the earlier disturbance, casually resumes licking his paw, completely uninterested in the familial drama.

"I... I don't know, Mom," you stammer, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. "I mean, working for the Millers? It's a bit... complicated."

She leans in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sweetheart, this could be a fantastic opportunity. And who knows, maybe that little crush of yours could turn into something more... professional, of course." She cuts into her meatloaf, humming in contentment as she chews. "Oh, and Sweetie? Wear the red sweater with your pleated skirt, with something other than those sneakers. You're turning thirty-six in September; you can at least do yourself a favor and start dressing your age for once! I'm sure Joel would appreciate it!" she winks at you as your father grunts in displeasure, rolling his eyes, muttering "meddler" under his breath.

"Mom, it was just a crush from a decade ago. Besides, mixing work and personal feelings is never a good idea."

She chuckles, reaching across the table to pat your hand. "Well, think about it, okay? Joel seemed genuinely interested in having you on the team. It's worth exploring, don't you think?"

A wink, a handshake, and six months later, you find yourself on-call indefinitely, catering to Mr. Miller's every technological whim and folly. It's not a bad job, you reason — getting paid triple what you made at Best Buy, monitoring everyone's browsing history in the office, and fielding the incessant IT requests Mr. Miller sends your way- which was often.  Way too often.

[My laptop won't turn on.]  Did you charge it? Try doing that first.

[Why does the volume not work on my Zoom calls?]  Did you make sure that you're not on mute or that your computer volume is up? Check that first.

[Since when did we put a parental blocker on the internet?]  It was per Tess, who said that employees should be working instead of looking up anti-feminist manifestos on Reddit. I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Miller. [Oh, well shit. Do you think you could unblock it for me? I am... having a hard time accessing my... bank account.] I mean- I could, but I would have to run it by Tess first. [Do you think you could... for me? It'll be our little secret, Sugar. Don't worry about Tess, I'll handle her.]  Sure, Mr. Miller... Right. Our little secret.  [Sugar, for the last time, it's Joel. Besides, I thought we were past having a silly little crush on me, you've grown into a... rather nice young woman. Please, call me Joel.]  Uh, sure Mr. Miller.

You are broken from your silent reverie by the unmistakable ding, ding, ding of the pop-ups Joel- Mr. Miller - you correct yourself, mentioned in his email. You scoff, biting into a piece of beef jerky. Typing in a command, the pop-ups halt, the black screen granting you developer access popping up as you run diagnostic after diagnostic trying to catch the little sucker - a virus, as Mr. Miller claimed - in the act of corrupting your poor boss' laptop once again.  There you are, you little shit, you mutter under your breath as you furiously type in more commands, eradicating Mr. Miller's bane of existence for good (or so you hope).

After running what felt like the tenth diagnostic of the night and downing three cups of coffee for the last three hours, the dawn of a new day streaks through the sheer curtains against your window. With bated breath, you restart Joel's system once more, closing your eyes until the familiar chime of Windows 11 booting up reaches your ears.

Please, please, please for fucks sake... no more pop-ups...

Joel's home screen pops up in an instant, the photo of him and his two girls smiling back at you as you breathe in a sigh of relief. "Fuck yes! Finally!" you silently exclaim, a drawn-out yawn and a deep stretch escaping your body as you settle your laptop on your couch. "Okay, let's just run a few programs and check a few documents to make sure they're not corrupted and then I can finally hit the sack..." you squint at the digital clock of your microwave, "and sleep for an hour before I have to get ready for work," you groan, eyeing the jar of Cafe Bustelo in the distance. Yep. No sleep for me, you think bitterly.  Another night, another one of Mr. Miller's computer meltdowns... 

Your eyes scan his desktop, opening up the PowerPoint file he needs for his presentation. It opens up with a slight lag, something you can optimize later but you breathe out another sigh of relief anyway. You check his internet browsing history, his late-night extensive porn viewing not a surprise to you anymore as you snort at the ridiculousness of it all.  At least it's not as bad and kinky as Tommy's browsing history, you tell yourself, because you'll never quite get used to all of the roleplay porn he watches religiously, you think. Closing out of Google Chrome, You scan his desktop for a random Word doc for you to open, not checking its title as you double-click on the first one that you see, slightly hidden by the Recycle Bin icon to the bottom right.  Wants? What kind of a file name is that?

The Word doc pops open, and it seems to be a running list of random things. You blearily scan the line items, your eyes widening in shock as you read on.  

Fuck her against my office door as I cover her mouth to muffle her screams.

Spoil her with a shopping spree at Neiman's with my Amex black card.

Fulfill my breeding fantasy by convincing her to get off of her Birth Control (do you think she's on one?)

Fuck her from behind against Tess' desk (serves her right)

You quickly exit out of the document, pushing your laptop away as if it were cursed. You look at the document title once more.  

Wants.

What the fuck was this? Who is he talking about? you ponder, the guilt of your negligence weighing on you like a weight tied to your ankles as you sink into the depths of the Atlantic. You shut your laptop for good measure, covering it up with your quilt as you shake your head in disbelief.  

What the fuck did I just read?

“Mr. Miller? Do you have a moment?”

You knock on the office door once more for good measure, standing timidly as you try to occupy yourself by smoothing out your dress - sensible, a decent length, work appropriate, you think to yourself. You try to not occupy the idle time of waiting for your boss, Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction- and the thing you found while remote logging onto his computer last night - I think I have a virus, his email stated - only to stumble upon something rather telling and personal - but he was your boss, and you were a professional, and you weren’t going to think about the list… 

Kiss her in the rain.

Make love in my truck as she rides me. 

Bend her over my desk and take her from behind.

Marathon sex

Eat her out as she works at her desk.

No, Joel was unequivocally your boss—older than you by at least a decade (and maybe a few more years, give or take), and the document titled "Wants" was clearly personal, likely intended for someone else, and certainly not meant to be seen by anyone, especially not an overly curious IT specialist like you. No, you reckon that this list was meant for someone else in the office - someone beautiful, sexy, and confident— someone decidedly who isn't you. Certainly not for someone who dresses like she’s still in college, who only recently began living on her own in a shoebox of an apartment (if you can call it that) after living with her parents for the majority of her adult life, and who barely has her life together. It’s pathetic, being a woman of a certain age and with nothing to show for it, still painfully single, nothing substantial to your name, only getting your life together now while everyone around you has done everything right.  I feel so behind in life, you think to yourself.  Who would want someone so pathetic as me?

It’s not like it’s a crime to have wants, you think to yourself. Everyone has them, including you, you reason. So what if you just so happen to stumble upon your boss's deepest (and somewhat depraved) desires? Doesn’t everyone have a bucket list of their desires written somewhere? So what if your older, attractive boss with his Gen X tendencies has it typed out on his work computer? It’s not like he meant for you to open up the Word doc, right?

You knew he was single. You also knew that he had kids, at least two—Sarah, his eldest, was the head of HR, and Ellie, his adoptive younger daughter, an apprentice working under Tommy, the other half of Miller Construction—a serial flirt who asked you about your dating life in your interview a few months back. No, you didn’t think about your boss and the sheer mass of man that he was, that he smelled like cedar and sandalwood, that he winks when he tells you good morning as you pass him in the parking lot while stumbling out of your less-than-impressive shitty Corolla. You also didn’t take note that he drinks his coffee black with a sprinkle of sugar—the one in the brown packet—or that he eats in his office instead of the employee lounge because he’s a messy eater. The deep red blush trailing down his neck as Tommy scolded him about his lack of table manners during a company-mandated team-building day wasn't proof enough of that.

There wasn’t a ring on that tell-tale finger, not even a tan line, no photographs of another woman on his desk—besides his daughters, of course. Not that you were looking. Tommy had his wife Maria come down to the office often enough; wouldn’t Joel be the same with his own?

Miller Construction prided itself on being a family-run company, with Joel and Tommy at the helm and their best friend Tess as VP—more the boss than the actual Miller brothers. While Joel and Tommy preferred the hands-on work on-site, Tess ruled over the office with an iron fist. No one dared to cross her.

"You've got one job, and one job only," she declared during your office tour. "Make sure no one spends the majority of their shift watching porn, and keep Joel from messing up his computer with his boomer-isms. We can't afford to keep replacing a laptop every six months."

"Isn't he in Gen X?" you ask. "... at 56 years old, he's still considered to be in that generation, right?"

"Technically, yes," Tess replies with an exasperated sigh. "But you know what I mean. Sometimes it feels like Joel is stuck in a time warp with his 'boomer-isms.' Just keep things running smoothly here, alright?"

As the days pass, you notice an unusual trend in Joel's computer issues. It seems that every time his laptop malfunctions, it coincides with a spike in suspicious internet activity. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots, and you can't help but shake your head at the irony of it all.

After a particularly eventful morning filled with more than the usual technical hiccups, you decide it's time to address the elephant in the room. You knock on Joel's office door, half-expecting him to be engrossed in some spreadsheet or construction plans.

It's not like you have to tell him about your snooping - he would be none the wiser judging by the way he was so technologically inept - you weren't about to tell him that the reason for the virus on the computer was because he was looking at some rather specific porn - boss fucks unsuspecting secretary from behind- his internet history had listed, nor did he probably think that his computer is being monitored, including his internet browsing history- company policy, as stated on the employee handbook that every employee of Miller Construction signs on the day of their official hiring- nor does he think that it sends reports to her at the end of the day.

You don't think about how the sudden uptick of his secretary porn viewing increased since a week after your hiring.  It's just a coincidence, right?

“Mr. Miller?” You call out once more. “It’s about your IT request last night? I have an update?”

“Yeah? Sorry! Come on in!” you hear from behind the door, accompanied by the frantic shuffle of papers and a silent curse. You take a deep breath as your hand turns the doorknob. Silently, you shut the door behind you, offering a small smile as you smooth out the skirt of your dress once more.

You fidget in place in front of the door as Joel—Mr. Miller—in his green flannel and dark jeans slung just right—it really should be criminal, looking this ruggedly handsome for someone his age, you think—as he ungraciously flops onto his desk chair, motioning for you to take the seat in front of him as he clears his throat nervously. “Take a seat.”

You situate yourself in front of him, refusing to meet his eyes as you fiddle with your hands on your lap, wondering why he, out of all people, would be nervous. It's not like he stumbled upon something so... intimate. You are a professional, and you were only doing your job, you tell yourself like a mantra, trying to ground yourself. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like he would fire you over your accidental snooping, right? You nod to yourself. “So…”

“So…” he replies, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a drink of his coffee. “Thank you for taking a look at my computer last night.” He begins, smiling at you. “I know that it was late, and I’m willing to compensate your time by giving you time and a half…”

“Oh,” you nervously reply, shifting in your seat. “No, Mr. Miller—”

“Joel.”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Please. We’re all family here. Call me Joel. Mr. Miller is my father for fuck's sake—”

“Right,” you chuckle. “Sure. Joel. Listen, you don’t need to compensate me for last night, let alone give me the overtime rate—”

“I emailed you at midnight; surely you were already busy, or I probably irritated your husband—”

“No.”

“No?” 

“No,” you mumble solemnly, “there’s no husband, just me and my cat-“

He barks at that, the laugh so loud it makes you jump in your seat. He gives you a look, almost as if he was relieved with that bit of information. “Well, disturbing your cat, then-“

"Oh," you reply casually, waving your hands in dismissal. "I'm sure Sir Bubbles didn't mind... and I don't sleep much, really—"

"Oh?" He straightens himself, his face serious. "Is it because of all of my requests? Shit. My girls give me such a hard time about not being with the times, I'm not really interested in technology— So no husband? Boyfriend, then?"

"Uh, no," you reply quickly, not eager to delve into the details of your lackluster love life. You clear your throat, adopting a professional demeanor. "Joel, as you're aware—or maybe not," you chuckle nervously, "I receive reports of all employee internet histories at the end of the day. Being the sole IT specialist on your payroll—perks of the job, outlined in my duties—I keep an eye out for any... irregularities."

"Irregularities?" he replies, his demeanor shifting into something resembling guilt. "What are you trying to get at?" he presses.

"Well, I monitor employee computer usage to make sure that they're not... distracted from their work," you reply. "Tess was explicit about not having any employees using company time for any unnecessary personal... dalliances."

Joel gives you a hard look. "Dalliances?"

"Yes, dalliances. Tess told me it was an issue before, with employees browsing social media and visiting questionable Reddit threads?"

"I don't follow," Joel replies. "You gotta spell it out for me, Sugar. What does that have to do with my request last night? I had a late night at the office, and after... checking my emails," he gulps, "I suddenly get bombarded with these pop-up things, so much that I just... unplugged my laptop... and, well-"

How is he so oblivious about this? You bite your cheek in frustration, not knowing how to get to the point without having to spell it out for him that you caught him browsing porn last night, secretary porn at that, and although it's highly inappropriate, you hardly think he was watching it because of Gladys, his actual secretary, who is old enough to be his mother.  Not unless he has some weird mommy kink...

Unable to endure the suspense any longer, you decide to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. “I’m sorry!” You exclaim, “I didn't mean to look at your browsing history, I mean, I had to, but only because I had to find the reason why a virus got on your computer, but that is not the point! I had to open a file to make sure it wasn't corrupted, and I swear, I didn't mean to open it!"

“Open what, sweetheart?” he smiles at you, leaning forward towards you.  

"Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal."

“Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-"

You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Joel visibly pales at your confession. He adjusts his collar, unbuttoning the second button as if he were being strangled by your scrutiny. “I just want to let you know", he starts, looking you in the eye with an unreadable expression. "I respect you as a woman, and Tommy, fuck, he wouldn’t let it go, with all that teasing about you being exactly my type and all, and well, your mother did remind me about your little crush on me back then-“ he rubs his hands through his hair as he rambles on, “… and I know that this looks bad, with you being my employee and all-“

“Wait, what?” You cut him off, a confused look on your face. “What do you mean? I mean, they're your personal preferences, and the list, well, I'm sure whoever you're writing about must be some woman, not that it's any of my business-”

“Fuck. You didn’t read all of it?”

“No!” You exclaim, practically jumping out of your seat. “I quickly closed it once I realized the nature of the document…”

“Well.” He stands up suddenly, pacing behind his desk. “I wrote that drunkenly one night after the company dinner, you know, the one when you wore that dress… do you remember?”

“Yes,” you reply breathily, “… the night where-“

You vividly recall that night. It was a dinner at the recently completed new hotel project. After a few glasses of wine and an impulsive, rather expensive purchase at Nordstrom.com a week prior, you endured most of the evening in an uncomfortably tight and overly revealing dress—a poor choice for a company party, for fucks sake. You believed Joel approached you at the end of the night out of sheer pity, not because—

“Well… after seeing you in that dress, and how stunning you looked in it, sitting by yourself, biting your lip in a way that makes me-“ he stops himself, giving you a small smile. “I was drunk, and I was thinking… I was contemplating how, if I were to have you, if you, by some miracle of fate… were interested, that I would do things right, you know? That if I had a second chance at… I would do it right. Treat you right.”

“You do know I’m not a secretary, let alone your secretary,” you roll your eyes. “I’m in IT… the only person in IT actually, and you’re not the first person I caught looking at questionable porn…”

Joel bristles at that. “Shit. Let me guess… Tommy?”

That gets a small smile out of you. “I can neither confirm nor deny, but… he’s partial towards a certain porn actress, and let’s just say he is really in love with women who looks like his wife.”

He smiles. "Shit, I thought I was being obvious enough, being that Tommy has teased me about it enough... I thought you knew. I know you work with computers, Sugar. I’m not completely senile, and I know Tess has been on a warpath about people getting their rocks off at work, I figured you would look at all of my… perusing.”

You're left stunned, your mind racing to process what Joel just revealed. It's not the revelation about his desires that leaves you speechless, but the unexpected admission of his feelings toward you. Your mind flashes back to the list, the desires that seemed so out of reach for someone like you. You never thought Joel would be harboring any feelings for you, let alone express them so openly.

"I... I had no idea," you stammer, still grappling with the revelation. "I thought that list was for someone else, someone... not me."

Joel walks around the desk, his eyes never leaving yours. "You thought wrong, sweetheart. I've been trying to drop hints, but I guess I've been subtler than I thought."

A myriad of emotions wash over you — confusion, surprise, and a hint of something you can't quite place. The professional boundary between boss and employee seems to blur, and you find yourself in uncharted territory.

"But," he continues, "I get it. I'm your boss, and this is complicated. I didn't want to put you in an awkward position. I should've been more direct."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Joel, it's not about being direct or indirect. This is just... unexpected. I never thought someone like you would... feel that way about someone like me."

He reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you meet his gaze. "Someone like me? What does that even mean, darlin'? You're intelligent and beautiful, and I've seen the way you handle your work. I've noticed you, and I can't help how I feel."

A mixture of vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes makes it hard to doubt his words. You start to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, your insecurities have clouded your perception.

"I don't want to pressure you, and I understand if you're not comfortable with this. I just needed you to know. The last thing I want is for things to be awkward at work," he says, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

You take a moment to absorb everything. Joel's revelation, your preconceptions, and the unexpected turn of events. The office, once a familiar space, now feels like uncharted territory.

"I need time to process this," you finally say. "It's a lot to take in, Joel. I never expected... any of this."

He nods understandingly, his hand dropping to his side. "Take all the time you need. I'll respect whatever decision you make. And hey, if you're not interested, we can go back to being boss and employee, like nothing happened."

You manage a small smile, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll... let you know. Just give me some time, okay?"

"Of course," he says, moving back toward his desk. "And, for what it's worth, I meant every word on that list. Whether it's a rain kiss or making love in my truck, I want it all with you."

You nod, silently acknowledging his sincerity. As you leave his office, you can't help but wonder how a routine IT request led to such a revelation. The office dynamics have shifted, and you find yourself navigating uncharted waters, unsure of where this unexpected revelation will lead.

As you walk away from Joel's office, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts consumes your mind. The revelation about Joel's feelings for you is a shock, but it's not the only thing echoing in your head. The list of desires he had penned down only magnifies your own insecurities. The voice in your mind grows louder, whispering that you're not the woman he deserves—too much of a mess, too behind in life, and certainly not beautiful enough for someone like him. The echoes of your perceived inadequacies replay like a broken record, drowning out the possibility that someone could genuinely see something valuable in you. You glance at your reflection in the office window, critiquing every imperfection, every perceived flaw. The dress that seemed sensible before now feels like a sad attempt to disguise what you believe is a lack of style or grace. The weight of self-doubt becomes an invisible burden, and you can't shake the feeling that you're not enough, that you may never be enough for someone like Joel.

As you grapple with your internal struggles, a small spark of defiance begins to flicker within you. Perhaps it's time to challenge those self-limiting beliefs, to be bolder than your insecurities allow. Joel's admission has opened a door you never expected, and you find yourself at a crossroads. Despite the echoes of doubt, a newfound courage whispers that maybe, just maybe, you can be more than what you perceive.

Embracing this sudden surge of determination, you make a decision. Instead of letting fear dictate your actions, you choose to confront the uncertainties head-on. Swallowing the apprehension that threatens to hold you back, you turn on your heel and head back to Joel's office. The faint thud of your own heartbeat echoes in your ears as you push open the door.

"Joel," you say, your voice steadier than you anticipated. "I've been thinking about what you said, and I need you to clarify something for me."

He looks up from his desk, curiosity etched across his features. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You take a deep breath, suppressing the self-doubt that still lingers. "Is that list something you genuinely desire with me, or was it just a drunken fantasy?"

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, a mix of surprise and sincerity in his gaze. "Every word of it is something I want with you. Why?"

A daring smile plays on your lips as you respond, "Then let's not leave it as a list, Joel. Let's see how many of those desires we can turn into reality."

The room seems to hold its breath for a moment as Joel's expression shifts from surprise to a slow, understanding smile. The air thickens with anticipation, leaving the next steps uncertain but filled with the promise of something new and exhilarating. As you stand on the precipice of this unexpected journey, the uncharted waters of possibilities lie ahead, and you find yourself ready to take the plunge.

Taglist: @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115

For more updates on all of my fics, please follow @chiriwritesstuffnotifs

All dividers by @saradika-graphics

[greenbloods]

🕸 waifnumber17 Follow

she let me hit becuause behind my whimsy there is this Sorrow

[this post was made by an adherent of the great council of 101!!! DNI if you adhere to andal succession law]

🌻 littlelordroses Follow

omggg my fields have been absolutely THRIVING since the tyrells have brought comfort and prosperity to the capital. feel so proud to be a reachman. thank youuuu @ mace_the_ace

🦁 hearmerawr Follow

mace tyrell is a separatist and a cryptofascist btw

🌻 littlelordroses Follow

umm could you provide some sources for this?

🥖 heelobread Follow

LANNISTAN GLOWIE SEETHING RN

🏵 ofthegreenlands Follow

lolol thats def cersei isnt it

🦁 hearmerawr Follow

it’s not my job to educate you

❄ whorefrost Follow

ok this is a long shot but if any of you are in the area around the godseye i lost my raven Moonwing yesterday and i was wondering if any of you might have seen him. he was pacing around my room two nights ago mumbling things like 'snow' and 'king' and 'hardhome'. my brother likes to play pranks on me so i thought it was just one of his games but when i woke up my raven was gone. i miss him a lot so i wanted to reach out to see if any of you might have seen him

🌙 moonglowinherhair Follow

heyy im in the godseye area too (im from Crofter's Fall if youve heard of it) but i was wondering if you have any more information about your bird? theres a lot of ravens around these parts haha

❄ whorefrost Follow

hes black

🌙 moonglowinherhair Follow

anything else?

❄ whorefrost Follow

he bites me a lot

⚔️ swordcrosseryaoi Follow

streets are saying sansa poisoned joffrey and took off from kings landing on leathery bat wings to go to the wall you go girl!! starks stay winning

fireandboob Follow

oh my fucking none of these people care about you. a stark brigade literally plundered my whole village!! can we not do this again i hate this goddamn site

🍏 fossobabe Follow

does anyone know if we have tomorrow tomorrow

🍁 plummpudding Follow

for man, perhaps. but for a tree, time is different. a river roiling back and forth, both here and there, but inconstant--always inconstant. a thousand years are but a mere moment through the eyes of a heart tree

📿 sparrowsbones-777-deactivated2990707 Follow

yeah go pray to your rivers northoid. and when the shaman comes to tear your heart out and sacrifice it to your trees, maybe spare a thought for the Seven and their divine might. we'll be waiting.

🍁 plummpudding Follow

254.421.81.132

❄ whorefrost Follow

yooo thats near where i live! if you see a raven flying near your house, could you dm me?

⛓ rhllorbot Follow

The night is dark and full of terrors.

[Beep-boop! I look for heathens and non-believers. Sometimes I mess up.]

🐗 bobby-b-bot Follow

IS THAT HOW YOU SPEAK TO YOUR KING??

🐀 askmeaboutmylengtheory Follow

every time i scroll past this post i have to reblog

🦀 crackedclaw Follow

hey can i ask you about your leng theory?

🐀 askmeaboutmylengtheory Follow

No.

🍏 fossobabe Follow

what the hell happened to my post

🗝 adropofdragonblood Follow

alright we're solving this once and for all

🧀 bloodncheesewasan1n51d3j0b Follow

op you coward wheres stannis

🗝 adropofdragonblood Follow

many have been asking the same question

🕯glasscandle-was-taken Follow

ok i know i shouldnt be surprised bcz its popular on this site to bandwagon onto the next popular thing but just a reminder that if youre supporting the conquests of daenerys targaryen youre supporting a literal colonizer and imperialist. plus slavery is literally a unique and traditional part of ghiscari culture so we cant be surprised that people over there dont like her. begging yall to pick up a scroll once in a while

🍷adornishred Follow

K

👁️ eye-motif Follow

U

⛈ pisswaterprincess Follow

N

🩸 blood-motif394 Follow

what if we were both locked in the formless dark void of the dungeon together, bereft of our own names and our own identities, bereft of everything that made us who we were. and we were both boys

🐒 littlestvalyrian Follow

haha that would be pretty epic i think

[lastoneout]

Honestly, I don't say it often bcs I know how this site is but I really do think for a lot of survivors of abuse, especially abuse that went on for years and years, sometimes the message "it's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong/to deserve this" while ABSOLUTELY TRUE* isn't actually super helpful. For a lot of us there's a LOT of guilt tied into it, and even if things were truly out of our hands we will not be able to accept that we are truly blameless, at least not at first, and maybe for some of us not ever. So being told "no dw you didn't do anything wrong <3 <3 you're innocent" feels...idk like some toxic positivity style lies. It doesn't make me feel better, because I still do feel like there were things that happened that were my fault, that were in my control, even an ethicist or god or whoever could look me dead in the eyes, weigh all the facts, and assure me of my complete innocence, and I still wouldn't believe it. (Tbh, you have to be ready to forgive yourself and trying to force it early does more harm than good.)

And I occasionally see movies and shows and stuff get roasted all to hell for having the audacity to go with a different message, to offer abused characters not a platitude about how they are innocent and should forgive themselves asap, but instead say "so what if it was your fault? so what if you fucked up? you're still alive, you still have time, your mistakes(or perceived mistakes) don't make you irredeemable scum who deserves to suffer, it's okay that you fucked up, what matters is what you do next, and even if the horrible thing was your fault in one way or another or you did actually hurt people, you still did NOT deserve to be hurt in turn" because people think that is like, admitting that the person in question is at fault when they almost always aren't....but as an actual survior, I'm sorry, you can tell me I'm innocent till the cows come home and I won't believe it. What I need to hear is that even if it was my fault I didn't deserve to be treated that way. I still deserve help. I deserve to keep going. I am not forever stained by my mistakes. I deserve a future free from this pain.

I think before we look at things in this like...grand moral way where we try to make sure we're sending the most Correct and Healthy Message Possible, sometimes it's worth asking if that message is actually the one the people it's about need to hear. I'm sure for some people it is very freeing to be told it's not their fault, but that kind of message does not resonate with me. And I, as well as people like me, deserve to expirience stories about us that are cathartic, that resonate, that make us feel seen, and to not have to see everyone and their mom throw a fit because what helps us is "problematic".

Anyway this has been mulling around in my head for a while and I def have a lot more to say about the way guilt manifests in trauma born of abuse, but yeah I just feel like this is something that should be talked about when we bring up abuse narratives and how well written they are and if they send the Correct Message, because the "Correct Message" is never going to be the same for everyone. And that's true of ANY demographic you could choose to represent!

Like some disabled people might enjoy the "magically healed" trope while others find it offensive. Some trans people like stories where transitioning is easy as drinking a potion or getting a fancy futuristic surgery and some find that that trivializes their struggles. Some queer people want stories where there's just no homophobia at all, others find that a world without it feels fake and patronizing. Some women do want to read stories about how keeping hearth and home is noble and empowering and others want read about women who have other jobs and never have kids or get married. For some of us "you're beautiful no matter what" is lovely and some of us just want to be told being fat and hairy and having acne and scars and shit is normal and fine. Or, like the last post I reblogged says, sometimes "you're not a burden" doesn't hit as well as "being a burden isn't a bad thing". No one type of representation is ever going to work for everyone, and that doesn't mean one type of rep is objectively wrong and the other is objectively right.

So yeah, the next time you find yourself angry because you think a story is sending the wrong message about a marginalized or harmed group, maybe stop for a second to ask yourself if it's actually harmful...or if you're not the person who the story is speaking to, and if there's someone it is talking to who desperately needs to hear what it has to say.

(*Getting ahead of this now: Do not put words in my mouth. I am not saying that any abused person in any way deserved their abuse or was at fault for it happening, that is not up for debate. The fault is always in the hands of the person who chose to hurt them. I'm just saying it's nuanced and complicated and guilt is a huge fucking issue that survivors have to deal with all the time and it's not wrong to acknowledge that some of us are always going to feel like we did something wrong and not be eased by being told otherwise even if the person saying it is 100% correct and/or means well. I do not have time for people who are going to willfully misinterpret me. You will be blocked.)

[ineylesian]

ME, OR HIM?

─ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X FEM! READER

AO3 | MASTERLIST | CODENAME: FANGS MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT | 4k+

SUMMARY | las almas was burning at the hands of the shadow company. and you…

you had disappeared on the site of the fuerzas especiales HQ betrayal without a single trace to follow. in under 24 hours you were declared an alpha threat to the task force. Now, the city was under a veil of death and horror, words of commandment spread under the names graves and cobra.

yet, there was still digging to be done, and lieutenant simon “ghost” riley wasn’t quite done with you. after all, cobras always have a reason to strike.

WARNINGS | smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, fingering, cunnilingus, jealous sex, implied graves x reader, biting, scratching, canon typical violence, ghost being a jealous hoe

AUTHOR’S NOTE | god i am literally such a whore for ghost it’s unreal. also, reader goes by the codename cobra, so you’ll know what that means when it pops up. graves also calls you fangs a few times bc he’s sexy like that

THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

“Cobra? Do you copy”

“Cobra. Come in, it’s Ghost.”

“Y/n? Do you read me?”

A soft buzz echoed inside your earpiece as the static began to fade, melting desperate calls to the distant fizzle of newborn embers. Your earpiece was gingerly unhooked from your ear before a pair of arms hoisted you up, gently setting you to slump against the nearest wall.

“You awake, Fangs?”

Your eyes slowly peaked open from the call of a familiar voice, leading you to drag an arm over your eyelids before prying them fully open. Just a few inches away from you kneeled Graves, sifting through a small first aid kit laid out on the ground below. He glanced over to see that you were indeed alive, offering a soft smile your way before returning to the half assembled needle in his hand.

“Hey.” Your eyes shot back open at the feeling of him rolling one of your sleeves up. “Try and sit still. You’ll feel a Hell of a lot better in a few seconds.”

Droplets of rain kissed the newly exposed patch of your skin, coating the area in a gloss that gave way to the thin veins below. Graves ran a gloved hand along your forearm, stopping just before your elbow to bring the needle right beside his pointer finger. You hissed at the sudden feeling of a sharp tick in your arm, yet found yourself gasping at the surges of heat that came right after it. Your hands subconsciously clamped around Graves’ shoulders as the flames of adrenaline licked through your blood, ending in the faint scent of smoke nearby.

“That’s it, Fangs. You’re alright.” Graves affirmed, tucking your loose arm around his neck before pulling you to stand. “You okay to stand?”

“Yeah.”

Graves nodded, allowing you to untangle yourself from his upper region and stand straight. Your gaze was soon pulled from your dirtied vest as he dropped your earpiece on the ground, smashing it dead into the dirt with his boot. Before you could even articulate a response to his sudden agression, your attention was pulled to the sound of approaching tires.

“Your men, I’m guessing?” You questioned, taking the new earpiece from his extended hand. “What’s going on here, Graves?”

The man before you simply shook his head, signaling to the oncoming vehicle with a wave. You grit your teeth at him, taking his outstretched arm before pulling him into a shaded patch of the alleyway.

“You wanna fucking explain that stunt you pulled back at Fuerzas, huh?” You growled, shoving his back against the soddened walls. “Playing Mr. Nice Guy doesn’t work on your enemies, Phi.”

“You think I have a choice, Y/n?” Graves snapped back, tilting his head almost comically at you. “In case you forgot, we are OWNED by Shepherd, whether we like it or not. I did the best I could.”

“COMMANDER GRAVES?”

You pulled off of him at the sound of pounding footsteps, emerging from the shadows with a grim expression set upon your features. Graves was quick to follow, adjusting his vest before leaning down to level with your ear.

“We lost our rights to free will a while ago, Fangs. But that doesn’t change a damn thing when it comes to you, okay?”

An erratic chill ran down your spin as Graves used the last of his cover to run a hand along your side, stopping to give your wrist a light squeeze before fully emerging into the light.

He was right. You had lost your right to life two months ago. But choosing not to fight back? Turning on the people who had the most capacity to apprehend Shepherd?

“… right on. Cobra and I will lead you through a sweep of the city. Remember, it’s the police we’re after. Do what you have to, but try your best to limit civilian casualties.”

“But sir, Shepherd confirmed that we had full, unrestricted reign of the city?”

Silence coated the atmosphere in a blanket of suffocating static, pulling Graves’ jaw taut as he gripped the sides of his vest tighter.

He knew this isn’t what you’d have wanted. The scrutinizing judgment of your ill-witted gaze drilling him from the back was enough to say so. You knew Phillip Graves never wanted his life to play out like it did for the past two years. And you knew he tried to play hero, but at the end of the day, both his life and yours had always mattered more than anything else.

“Of course, do as you must.”

And you were just as bad as him, holding what could be potential liberation behind tongue tied thoughts. But instead of speaking up, you nodded your soldiers off, slipping a hand into one of the many pockets on Graves’ vest as you slipped by. A look of deep solemn was sent his way, captivating his gaze even as gunfire began to light up the dim space around you, ending with a gleam of remorse before the sun disappeared.

You watched as he turned his back, typing a set of eight numbers in the device you stole before dropping it into the mud, kicking it deeper, and moving to join him.

Maybe you could do something before all Hell broke loose.

———

ONE WEEK AFTER THE INCIDENT. / A WAREHOUSE SOMEWHERE ALONG THE OUTSKIRTS OF LAS ALMAS.

“Cobra. I trust you’ve been having successes in finding Hassan’s location?”

“Negative, sir. She won’t speak without Alejandro present. With Graves’ report on the prison break, I’m afraid we’ll have to open negotiations back up.”

A noise of disapproval crept it ways through your earpiece, moving you to sit straight whilst watching Shepherd from the edge of your screen.

“Find Hassan, Cobra. I don’t care how. Golden Eagle out.”

You closed the computer with a sigh, standing up to make way for the armory. A suppressed DMR was grabbed and strapped on top of a lightweight vest, followed by a silencer pistol strapped to your thigh. A line of smokes and frags were clicked onto your belt, finishing off by smoothing your hair back and pulling a black balaclava over your face.

Midnight was approaching fast, leaving you with nearly 20 minutes to reach your destination. Emerging outside, you fastened your DMR to a clip on your vest before spinning your keys in place, letting one foot fall to the ground as you swung yourself onto your vehicle. The engine of your motorcycle raged to life as you yanked your keys against the ignition, leaving a mass of dust in your wake as you tapped the gas, setting off for the barren roads ahead.

The time on your watch had just flashed to 11:59 as you eased to a stop, setting your bike to lay against the sand before dropping beside it. Flicking your thermal scope onto your DMR, you set the gun down against the cool grounds below, finger hovering the trigger as you peered at a warehouse nearly 100 meters ahead. Breathing in, you focused your crosshairs on a pair of guards on the perimeter’s outskirts, lowering down on the trigger as one of them moved in position for a collateral.

Your eyes snapped to the side as a third man dropped in the corner of your scope, winding a faint smile upon your face as you rose up from the ground. Small piles of sand kicked up behind your footsteps as you broke into a sprint, watching bodies drop in the near distance with every footstep you took.

There would only be 10 internal guards at this time. 20 on the outside and dropping rapidly made easy work of it, allowing you to slip in through a side gate completely unnoticed.

A stray guard stationed on the main roof caught your attention, leading you to snatch a half cracked beer bottle off the ground before moving forward. Peaking your head above a ladder, you rose your hand when he glanced away, tossing the bottle a few meters in the opposite direction. Following a string of confused murmurs and the turn of his back, you mounted the roof and ran up behind him, spinning him by his shoulders before jamming a knife into his jugular.

Now came the hardest part, eliminating the ones inside. You couldn’t pick them off one by one since the area was so compact, and starting a gunfight could prove risky. The only one safe way you could think of led you to crouch beside one of the roof’s skylights, peering down at a clump of guards that sat directly below you.

A soft click sounded from your belt as you pulled a smoke bomb from it, smashing a small hole in the glass before dropping it in. The rise of agitated coughs led you to flip on the infrared lens on your goggles, dropping down onto a crate before taking your last fall onto the chest of a guard.

Frenzied gunfire rang out as blinded guards screamed in confusion, their rasps soon cut short by a swift sequence of knives jutted to their skin. You made easy work of the first 5 that had been grouped up, but the rest had already been alerted, and were approaching fast.

You dropped another canister of smoke before sliding against one of the numerous crates in the warehouse, peaking out to see a red, thermal mass just a few feet away. His legs were kicked from behind as you spun your knife to his front, spurting a thick trail of blood into the mist at the expense of his esophagus. A chain of horrific screams echoed throughout the space as you moved forward in rapid, deadly progression, grabbing the last man’s head before putting a silenced bullet in the base of his skull.

A click pushed past your tongue as you knelt down, swiping a now bloodied keycard out of the guard’s pocket. However, you could only freeze in shock as the sound of a cocked gun rang out from your front, leading you to stare straight into the barrel once the last of the smoke cleared.

“Don’t move.”

You raised your hands in defeat, allowing the guard to reach forward and snatch the covering off of your face. The moment his eyes widened was the same a sharp object whizzed just meters past your head, allowing him to mutter a single word before slumping to the ground.

“Cobra.”

His body was kicked to the side, allowing you to step out of the pools of blood that coated your boots and turn around. The sight before you drew a thin sigh from your lips, leading you to avert your gaze at the sound of approaching footsteps.

You couldn’t believe he’d actually followed your message.

“Ghost.”

His eyes traveled to your face, taking in the fresh strokes of red that coated your cheek, soon narrowing into a look you couldn’t decipher. However, if there was one thing you could pick up, it was anger.

“These people, they’re..” he blinked roughly, looking back up to you with a newfound glint of confusion resting in the small corner of light that sat there. “Tell me everything, now.”

“I doubt there’s much you really need to know.”

“Wrong choice.” The harsh bark in his tone grazed your ears as he began walking forward, roughly grabbing the hem of your vest to push you into a nearby crate. “Come clean to me. Right. Now.”

“Tell me what they’ve told you.”

A frustrated sigh passed through the lower region of his mask, followed by the slight tilt of his head downward.

“Shadow Company. Almost an entire section of Las Almas slaughtered.” His voice grew with each passing word, sucking in a sharp breath before looking back up at you. “Graves’ closest advisor.”

You could do nothing but nod.

“I had no control over what he did, Ghost. Shepherd has him wrapped around his finger, I-“

“So you just sit and let him kill all of these innocent people?” He growled, pressing you further into the metal. “You could’ve prevented all of this.. but you..”

“Fucking Hell Simon- don’t say it.”

“You’re in love with that bastard, aren’t you?”

His hand tugged violently on your vest, some fingers moving into the collar of your jacket. Following the upward aggression, one of his knees pressed into your thigh, forcing you to cower under him.

“No, you don’t understand.” You snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously. “I saved him back in Al Mazrah. He owes me his life.”

“And what about us, Cobra?” He spat, leaving just a few inches of space between your noses. “You’ve been with the Task Force way longer, and now you suddenly want to act all high and mighty because your team failed?”

“That was NOT our fault.” You snarled, roughly shaking against his grasp. “We had no choice but to follow Shepherd’s orders, you know that!”

“Fine, but the choices you’ve made up until now? Those are on you.”

You grit your teeth firmly together before swiping one of your feet against Ghosts’ leg, taking his stagger to spin him to where you had been moments prior. Kicking a body towards you, your hands forced his head down, the edge of your boot pointing to the Shadow Company’s insignia sewed into left side of one of the guard’s chests.

“I’m killing my men for the Task Force, Simon. I betrayed my squadron, sent you those coordinates, and you still have the nerve to say I’m acting high and mighty? Do you hear yourself?”

Silence.

“I did this all for you, not Graves.”

You.. meaning the Task Force, of course. Not “you” for the man pressesd flush against your chest, hands running along your forearms, stopping to clamp against your wrists in a fluid squeeze.

“But you’re still going to go back to him, aren’t you?”

You sighed through your nose, unlinking one of his hands from your wrist to rest beside his mask. The eyes above you fluttered nearly shut, holding you in a squint that proved he already knew the answer to that question.

“I have no choice.”

Your hand traveled to the side, languidly hooking a finger under his mask, pulling just high enough to expose his mouth and the stubble coating the skin around it. Before you knew it, he dipped his head down to pounce on your lips, teeth knitting against the soft flesh in a sudden course of hunger.

“Let me have you tonight, then, Cobra.”

It was true, you had no choice when it came to your situation. The mere thought of Shepherd catching you with Ghost made your skin crawl.. but right now, you had him, and you weren’t going to take that for granted. A major mistake, maybe, betraying every ill word you’ve spoken to him in frustrated lust.

Yet, you nodded, allowing him to pick you up and set you away from the mass of bodies you had been standing near.

Gloved hands snaked under your arms the moment you touched the ground, moving to unclip your vest and toss it to the ground beside you. His hands continued to roam along the expanse of your jacket, tugging the zipper down in one harsh movement before taking your belt along with it.

“Do you let Graves touch you like this?”

You bit your lip, shamelessly lifting the bottom of his jacket up to access his belt.

“None of your business.”

He shook his head, knowing what that entailed; fingers moving to fiddle with your pants as well.

“Lucky bastard.”

Ghost took no leisure in sliding your panties down once he popped the button holding your jeans open, tugging one of his gloves off with his teeth before tossing it to the side. His index finger plunged to circle around your folds, rousing a deep sigh from his throat at the feeling of your slick coating his fingers.

“Fucking Hell…”

You whimpered as that same finger suddenly pushed inside of you, the sensitivity of the sudden intrusion making you clamp around him. Only a few shallow pumps sufficed for him until he added the second finger, making sure to stretch them open inside of you before moving forward. You bit back a moan as his fingers curled against your sweet spot, the look in your eyes telling him all he needed to know anyway.

His speed picked up with every short thrust inside your walls, eventually rousing a quiet moan from your lips as your head fell back. A soft hum followed the crude noise, only encouraging him to run his other hand along the bundle of nerves above. Your teeth gnawed at your lips at the feeling of rough velcro abusing the outside of your pussy, each sloppy rub of his fingers sending a pleasant shock through your system.

“Fucking Graves.” Ghost mumbled, thrusting his fingers in you particularly hard at the thought of the man. “Wish he was here to watch someone else touch you like- this.”

You bit your hand as his fingers curled on the last word, heating the coil snaking around your midsection tenfold.

“Let me hear you, lovie.” He reached up, prying your hand away from your mouth. “What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck, Simon, keep going.”

You felt yourself growing closer to an orgasm with each approaching second, hands slapping the metal behind you to relieve the heat. Ghost’s thrusts were nothing short of sloppy now, three fingers in at their cruel pace.

“That’s it, come on my fingers. Nice and slow.”

You’d never admit it, but he had such a fucking way with words. So much that one sentence alone had you lathering his fingers in cum, drawing a thin line of slick substance between them as he pulled out of you.

His arms dipped down to encircle your legs, lifting you to sit on the edge of a crate. Now decently higher above, you glanced down, the arousal between your legs growing with no doubt as you watched him sink to his knees. Tugging your jeans down a little further, he hungrily pried your legs apart before glancing up at you, and plummeting his face between your legs.

A sweet moan fell from your lips as the coarse pad of Ghost’s tongue licked up your folds, stopping to swirl around your bud before moving back down to your hole. Just as you were beginning to enjoy the slow pace, he shoved his tongue inside of your pussy, sliding against areas even his fingers didn’t satisfy. One of the hands holding your legs open began toying with your clit once more, eliciting a string of curses from your mouth as you felt your next orgasm start to build.

Though he’d never admit it, Ghost always thought you had a beautiful voice. The way you accentuated some words and let others fall over like rain water enticed him to no end. And now, hearing the sing sing moans and whimpers spilling from you was undoubtedly catching his attention, causing him to glance up from your pussy.

You, on the other hand, had never been shy about complimenting him. You’d always drone on about how nice his accent sounded, how perfectly cocky he was.. Hell, the list never ends. However, if there was something you made sure he was aware of, it was how gorgeous his eyes were. Piercing oak and softly shaped; always adorned with an intimidating smear of black around them.

And with the way they stared up at you now? Your composure was snapped and broken beyond repair.

Seconds later you felt yourself crying out on your second orgasm, leaning back as Ghost hungrily lapped up whatever dripped out of you. He stood up after a good 20 seconds, the upper hand side of his mask noticeably drenched in your juices. He let out a sigh at this, raising a hand to tug what was left of it off.

It had been a long time since you’d seen Ghost without his mask on, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Dirty blonde locks sat plastered against his forehead, longer than what you remembered. However, the moment was short lived, as his eyes were soon to harden back to the way they had looked when you first encountered.

“What’s your plan after this?”

“To steal any information from here, and get Hassan’s location from the girl.”

“You know she wont talk.” He pressed, leaning closer to your face. “What then?”

Oh.

Your mouth contorted into a sickeningly fake smile as you ran a hand along his face, stopping to caress lightly over his cheek.

“You want me to beg for your help, don’t you?”

He only grew closer at this, warm breaths fanning over your mouth in drawn out waves.

“No, I just want you to make the right decision.”

You scoffed, thumb slowly coming down to run over his lip.

“Aren’t I doing that right now?”

A hum answered your inquiry as he pressed his lips against yours, tongue greedily sliding around the inside to get every taste of you. Muffled moans mingled between the both of you, leading Ghost to press his thighs against your own. One of his hands slipped down to finish unzipping what you hadn’t, the other running along your chest, reaching under your bra to cup and squeeze your breasts one at a time.

You eventually broke apart from his lips because of the ache, glancing down to see him smearing his precum along his dick. Your legs vibrated at each push of his hands against your skin, gently clamping down on your flesh before breaking one hand away to drag his cock against your already weeping pussy.

“Think you can take all of me, sweetheart?”

You nodded feverishly, already growing hot at the pure cockiness present in his tone. What was a small match erupted into a flame as he pushed into you, trailing embers down your walls with each inch he moved. You’d never felt so full in your life, groaning shamelessly as he bottomed out, moving back after a few seconds to adjust you to his length.

“Simon, please.. fuck.” You exhaled roughly, head tilting back to alleviate some of the pressure. “Faster, please.”

A screech caught itself in your throat as he began to thrust inside of you, hands moving up to cage around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. This allowed his cock to burrow even deeper than before, the pleasure rousing incoherent phrases from your lips. Ghost eagerly tilted his head up at this, messily taking your lips in his and greedily swallowing all of the sounds from your throat.

Your hands dug into the sheer fabric of his coat, legs feebly wrapping around his waist in an attempt to stay grounded. You mumbled something along the lines of “.. please.. faster” against his lips, rousing a drawn out groan from his throat at the sound. The slaps of his cock against your pussy grew louder as he increased his speed, filling your ear with a mixture of lewd pants and moans.

“He’ll never fuck you like this, Cobra. Never.”

Ghost choked on the last part of his sentence, letting out an almost animalistic moan at the rate his cock was slamming inside of you. Each thrust grew sloppier, filling him with the carnal need to suck the breath out of your lungs, moving to nip at your neck after you gasped for air. His teeth picked at your skin skillfully, drawing out just enough force to have you sobbing his name, desperately clawing at his back for any leverage.

“My god- Simon!” You cried, raising a hand to grasp his hair. “M’ gonna.. cum.”

“.. shit…”

To be completely truthful, you hadn’t experienced anything like this with Graves in your life. The sweltering blister of heat in your midsection ignited further with every thrust, a release itching to come out as your overstimulated walls clenched around him for the third time. Blistering tears streaked down your cheeks as your orgasm came crashing around Ghost’s cock, drawing a beautiful moan from his lips as he chased his own high.

He abruptly pulled out, mixing streaks of white with the arousal already pooling in between your legs. Panting lightly, Ghost helped you down onto the ground after you zipped your clothes back on, never letting go of your shoulders as you regained composure in your legs.

“You know can’t do this without us.” He spoke, voice just above a whisper. “Come back to base with us, we’ll roll out an operation tomorrow.”

You slowly shook your head at him, hands turning his inside out mask before taking his ungloved hand and placing it inside.

“You know I can’t do that.” You sighed, running a hand along his forearm. “Someone needs to be inside, and I need to make sure Graves gets out safe if you’re really planning on doing what you said.”

“No.” His tone lowered as if you’d flipped a switch in his head, firmly taking hold of your wrists, eyes narrowing dangerously at you. “It’s either us or him. You have to choose.”

It’s either me or him. You have to choose.

You inhaled sharply, digging a device holding your frequency inside out of your vest.

“You know I’d always choose you.”

Your hands clasped around his own as you placed the device in his care.

“Just… try not to kill him. He’s looked out for me more than you know.”

Heaving a small sigh, Ghost pocketed your device before leaning down, lips hovering just inches from yours.

“No promises, Cobra.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

You ohhhandedly mentioned tessai livong through ww2 and… wow thats true there were a lot of characters that got a first row seat to both conflicts, even if only the second was really impactful on japans history. Does urahara, yoruichi, tessai, the vizored or any of the shinigami have any specific feelings on ww2/the nuclear bombs? I know its a wild fucking question but it literally just occurred to me and i cant stop thinking about it.

Yeah WW2 is an entire 5-chapter arc in the fic because apparently Kubo is from Hiroshima, and Karakura town is based on his memories growing up there. Stuff that happens during that arc:

The Soul Society's sole warning that something catastrophic might be coming is the arrival of an irradiated and enraged Coyote spirit from the Trinidad test site. It's up to Newly-appointed captain Komamura to calm it down and explain what happened, and Mayuri is able to work out that atomic weapons are real from it's descriptions. He gives Soul Society about a month before the humans drop one on a city.

Unfortunately, he's correct.

***

Urahara and the Visoreds use the fact that they're already dead to mitigate some of the damage from the bombing by walking into the epicenter and shoving carbon rods into the most radioactive points, stemming much of the radiation damage, but there's nothing they can do for the initial wave of destruction.

It involves going through a new gigai every trip and learning what if feels like to have the flesh actually melt off your bones, but Hirako Shinji and the other Visored are no cowards, least of all about Hard and Dirty Work.

Tessai makes Ururu and Jinta out of spare parts from Urahara's Gigai experiments to house a heavily damage Kitsune and Tanuki spirit pair from a shrine that was destroyed. Ururu is the Tankuki, and the older one- Jinta seems a bit more 'organic' because Tessai learned a lot making his sister, and because as a Kitsune, he's a better actor.

***

Soul Society is in major trouble though.

with the sudden influx of souls- first from the bombing, but then from the radiation sickness and the famine that followed, the living and spirit worlds are in danger of becoming unbalanced.

It's a Major Crisis!

Fortunately for them, people with sociopathy tend to operate really well during Crises, and I realized the reason Mayuri hasn't been fired or killed by the time Ichigo shows up is that when shit hits the fan, Mayuri's lack of emotional response to the suffering of others means he can buckle down and fucking DELIVER.

Expansions to the pocket dimension that the queue of incoming souls is housed in? He didn't sleep for two weeks to get it done on time, but there was more than enough room when the bomb dropped and for the few months after as casualties continued.

Emergency rations for all these incoming factory workers that know nothing about farming? Behold, Nutritionally complete meals that you can eat right out of the box! And smaller, friendlier ones for the kiddies!

Hell, the 12th division even makes instructional propaganda videos about how safe and tasty these new foods are, featuring The Grand Clown Himself, and distribution centers featuring his likeness, so Mayuri enjoys a peculiar popularity in the Rukongai, not unlike an off-brand and sometimes educational Krusty The Clown.

Just ah. Stop asking questions about the ingredients list.

***

"I'm not fucking killing civillians." Says Kenpachi when Yamamoto begins to bring up the historical method that the Shinigami have used to balance out sudden influxes of souls from the living world.

"Oh?" Yamamoto glares at him. "You have a better idea?"

"What's them big fuckers that come outta tears sometimes? Hundred feet tall, black, bird faces?" He asks, waving as he tries to remember the names.

"...Menos Grande?" asks Ukitake, who has gotten remarkably good at interpreting for the man next to him at meetings.

"Yeah!" Zaraki grins, patting his six-foot-tall colleague on the head like a small child. "You said they're like... combination creatures of a thousand souls each right?"

"Zaraki is correct." Pipes up Tousen, who is also extremely eager to not murder civilians and even more eager to absolutely fuck up the army of Menos Aizen has been gathering in Hueco Mundo. "-It wouldn't be *easy* but dispatching approximately Five hundred Menos in the next week seems much more doable and much, much more morally sound than killing five hundred thousand civillians. Sir."

Kaname can feel the curse nails on his back starting to bleed from Aizen's glare but he presses on.

"-There appears to be a significant population of them gathered on the far eastern edge of Hueco Mundo. It would probably take most of the 11th Division's forces but-"

"IKKAKU!" Zaraki is already bellowing out the door to his lieutenant. "TELL EVERYONE TO PACK AN EXTRA PAIR OF PANTIES, WE'RE GOING ON A HOLLOW HUNT!"

There is a distant but enthusiastic whoop form Ikkaku in reply.

"An excursion into Hueco Mundo is exceptionally dangerous." Unohana notes, voice placid as he returns to the table.

"-and? I don't do this job because it's safe 'n' easy." Zaraki shrugs.

Her neutral expression softens just a bit into a small, affectionate and perhaps ever-so-slightly lascivious smile. "May I suggest that a detachment of the 4th Division accompany the 11th? It won't make the work easier, but it will mitigate some of the risk."

Yamamoto groans, aware that the decision has been made for him.

"Fine." He grunts. "Take a detachment of the Ninth too, you can use that newfangled radiodar whatsit to keep me updated."

"Pardon?" Mumbles Kaname, slightly woozy from blood loss.

His circulatory situation is not helped when an illusion-blind-to-the-blood Zaraki grabs him about the middle and starts carrying him off under his arm in exactly the direction the 9th and 11th are not like a particularly bewildered purse Chihuahua.

***

Aizen... almost strays from his path.

The Hogyoku is slow and tiresome, his first plan to barrage Karakura with Menos to create the Oken is being trashed and actually being forced to work his job of Rukongai Management is- Well, it's reminding him just why he started this quest to Dethrone God.

What loving creator would make an afterlife of squalor, where the 'lucky' are cursed to outlive everyone they know and love? Not one worth worshiping, surely.

But actually being out here, setting up emergency food distribution, implementing the latest in civil engineering from the newly arrived and seeing it immediately improve the quality of life, uniting families and... actually helping people? it's making him question his path. Perhaps- Perhaps God is not some uncaring regent on a distant throne. Perhaps God is something that lives in all souls, a kindness and goodwill towards one's fellow man, and to spread the will of a loving creator, one must Act to Enact God's Will...

Gin Panics.

He has not spent the last 300-odd years dangling the Hogyoku in front of Aizen, stuffing him full of spiritual energy to feed to the machine that generates reality like he was fattening up a goose for Pate, only to have him give up his quest for divinity NOW.

He's gonna have to do something drastic.

He's gonna have to convince Aizen he was right all along, and that he needs to keep using the Hogyoku.

He's going to need to use Aizen's own Illusions against him, and convince Aizen that the souls of the citizens of the rukongai aren't worth playing a Benevolent God for. That the whole thing needs to come out and be replaced.

Sure, it's a dick move

but those are his specialty.

***

It's the night before the 11th and the two detachments are supposed to leave for Hueco Mundo, and Yamamoto's been doing some thinking.

He is also in Zaraki's quarters at midnight sharp. "Captain-General." Nods Unohana, pausing mid-activity to acknowledge him. "Bruh." Zaraki grunts to indicate they were busy. "I need to borrow Zaraki for an hour or so, and then you may continue." he says, and then steps back outside so the man can get untied and dressed.

"This better be good old man, I know you haven't been married for a few centuries but REALLY-" Zaraki grumbles, emerging and putting his sandals on. "Don’t worry, it’ll take twenty minutes tops, all you have to do is stand behind me and don’t hide your rage." Yamamoto explains. "-We'’re going to go see the central 46." Zaraki pauses mid-sandal, slowly looking up at him with an intrigued arch to his brow. "Yes, it’s forbidden." Yamamoto says, not tearing his gaze away from the moon above them. "-But I've received reports that the Central 46 has acquired blueprints of the... Device. Used in the living world earlier this month and I'm nipping this at the damn bud." Zaraki grins, and finishes putting his sandals on.

The Central 46 are alerted to the Presence of Yamamoto and Zaraki by the main gate to their district being kicked through the wall of the council chambers.

"Hello, Sages and Wise Councilors of the Soul Society!" The Old Man greets them as he steps through the hole he just made, and The Barbarian squeezing through after, sword casually over his shoulder. "Well isn't this a surprise, everyone here in a full meeting at One in the Morning on a Teusday!"

"Wh-What is the meaning of this?" one of the head councilmen sputters, mustache bristling. "Shinigami are forbidden form this place, I'll have you both execu-!"

"Shut up." Yamamoto glares, and sparks fly from the corner of his eye. The hem of his Haori is starting to smolder and singe as well as he approaches the table the councilors are crowded around the blueprints from the living world.

"Now, we are all good and honorable people here." Yamamoto says, casually waving a hand in what would normally be a placating gesture but now only made his sleeve flicker as Ryujin Jakka grew hungrier. "-But I've been around long enough to know how Power corrupts."

"And we've all been exposed to a new, horrific level of Power."

"Oh, of course, you would never! It's unthinkable to sink to such a level!"

"...but it's been a few weeks. The initial shock has faded, and you're starting to understand the full toll of the destruction." he explains, strolling up, the diamond insignia on his back spreading across his shoulders as the Haori singes. Behind him, Zaraki is following with an unpleasantly carnivorous stroll, yellow eye lazily moving from face to face, taking stock of all those present. "...and you are perhaps developing a new standard of devastation and suffering to wish upon your enemies."

There is some muttering, some protesting, and worse, some agreeing. They are silenced by a sudden electric crackle of Energy from Zaraki.

"I’m just here to tell you all-" Yamamoto continues, unperturbed. Or perhaps so perturbed he's warped all the way around to a deep, ruthless peace.

"If I hear any ONE of you has taken steps to develop a weapon like this-" he points a finger at the blueprints, which singe and then burn, a low, slow flame that reduces them completely to ash.

"-I’m going to kill all of you."

"Actually," he explains, as the blueprints finish burning and the table catches as well, fire blooming and crackling, lighting him from beneath. "I’m going to kill all of you and your families. By which I mean, I’m figuring out who all your ancestors were going back Five generations, Kill them, and kill all their descendants."

The table burns, and the floor is threatening to catch, but nobody can move to ring the fire alarm or grab a bucket of water.

"-Because that’s the kind of indiscriminate destruction these things cause." he explains. "It's a damn shame to say this, but this is the first time we've been able to settle whole families in the same town- because five, six, even seven generations of families, from great-great grandmother to the newest infants were burnt together in an instant."

"So if you want to wield that kind of destruction, you best be prepared to deal with those kinds of consequences." he growls, and suddenly sweeps his hand over the fire, which snuffs out immediately.

Slowly he turns to go, and regards Zaraki behind him.

"Oh, and just in case any of you had thoughts of hastening my retirement in regards to this matter-" he speaks up, and points to Zaraki "-Near as I can tell, this asshole is immortal and indestructible, so if I happen to be dead, he'll do it for me, won't you?"

"Yes, sir." Zaraki Nods, eye fixed on the head councilor, committing his face to memory, blade and crackling eagerly.

"-and he's nowhere near as speedy and clean a killer as I am, so I suggest you don't test either of us." Yamamoto grins, and Ryujin Jakka can't help but flicker off his brow for emphasis.

"Goodnight, and go fuck yourselves." Yamamoto bows, and exits through the same hole he entered.

The walk back to the 11th is largely silent, but Yamamot can feel the pleased-yet-curious thrum of reiatsu from Zaraki.

"Question, boss-" he suddenly speaks as they approach the 11th.

"You're not supposed to question orders, Zaraki." He sighs. He'll make a proper shinigami out of him. Eventually.

"...Request for clarification, Boss-" Zaraki tries again, and Yamamoto nods. "-Why me?"

Yamamoto arches an overgrown brow at him.

"Not complainin'-" Zaraki explains, pointedly looking up at the moon and scratching his neck in deferment. "-But Byakuya's got more sway with them and Gin's definitely better at terrifying first impressions."

"Hm." Yamamoto nods. "It's in the follow-up, not the impression, you see."

"I do not." Zaraki says. For all his faults and frustrations, Zaraki sure keeps Yamamoto on his toes about not being lazy and actually explaining himself.

"-I am very serious about you killing them and their descendants if they ever think about making one of those devices." he sighs and Zaraki nods, waving a hand for him to continue. "-So I picked the Shinigami most invested in a peaceful future to make sure my orders would be carried out."

Zaraki still looks confused.

"You're my only captain with children, Zaraki." Yamamoto explains. "I know you only give half a rat's ass about the court guard, but I've seen what you'll do for Yachiru."

Zaraki nods understanding now, and a few more paces of silence pass between them.

"...Thank you, Sir." Zaraki mutters, bowing his head and using the honorific with genuine intent for the first time since Yamamoto had known him. "-For understanding."

"Thank you, Captain Zaraki." Yamamoto nodded slightly, stopping before the gate to the 11th. "-For understanding as well."

"-Now get back to Captain Unohana before she schedules some sort of blood test of a thousand needles for me!" Yamamoto grunted, prodding at Zaraki with his cane, and the man didn't need to be told twice.

[euniexenoblade]

re: egg discourse

i thought it was just people saying that specifically making jokes about someone being trans but not knowing it yet can be kinda invalidating and sometimes traumatic. are people actually saying you should never tell someone that they might be trans?

i dont really have a side in the debate it just feels like people are willfully misunderstanding eachother and its making my brain hurt

"making jokes about someone being trans but not knowing it yet can be kinda invalidating and sometimes traumatic"

Sure, but it also isn't for a lot of people. And, a lot of people I talk to say egg jokes helped them realize who they were. Though I do think part of this resistance to an egg joke is actually internalized transphobia at points (the idea of being compared to trans people is being treated as degrading in a lot of these people's arguments) the truth of the matter is different people need and want different things. Me making eggs jokes with my friends is not your friend group.

This is why the recurring complaint of our side is it's never egg jokes can make people uncomfortable, 'make sure your friends are cool with them before just doing them,' it's always complaining about trans women forcing cis men to be women or trans women being "transvestigators" or "similar to Christian missionaries." People who are uncomfortable with egg jokes are always projecting their discomfort onto other people, other friend groups, and portray harmless fun between friends as something abusive.

Like for example,

this is a projection. the egg jokes people are talking about happen among friends and stuff, but this person is doing a whole "never make egg jokes because people did it about me and made me feel bad" (oh woe is you, people thought you might be transgender, how disgusting to be a tranny). The majority of egg jokes are not about random ass people, it's within friend groups. And, if you don't like your friends saying them, tell them to stop. If they don't? Then stop being their friends. Also from that post

The underwater filter butchered that. I know you can't read it but I wanted to post it cuz fucking look at that. What the hell. Anyways,

This opposition to egg joke people always talk about strangers. As if we're walking up to random people on the street and making egg jokes about them. It's mostly contained to friend groups. This is just an inaccurate portrayal of what's actually being discussed, and I'm sure the op will be like "I'm talking about my experience!" but OP openly admitted that this rant was relevant to a random blogger complaining about an egg tweet a woman made about her own friend group that neither this OP or that blogger are part of. They are actually dictating how strangers are allowed to act and identify with this, not the egg jokesters.

Yeah, once and a while you get shit like "Aaron Bushnell seems transfem" which was a completely innocuous convo that no one would have seen if well known transmisogynists who accuse random trans women of pedophilia like three times a year hadn't found the post. It was a trans woman seeing herself in someone important in history, and even if someone said something inappropriate, the backlash was undeserved. Yall say embarrassing shit all the time and no one's running you off the web site for it.

I'm sorry this person and others seem to have a bad time with egg jokes (though most of the time, what they describe isn't egg jokes but that's a whole other thing), but their few experiences can not be used to determine a blanket response to something so many people actually do enjoy and find useful. I'm especially not gonna take a cis person's opinions on egg jokes seriously (since so many have seemed to gotten involved and think their opinion on this matters).

"are people actually saying you should never tell someone that they might be trans?"

Yes! That's like, the entire underlying premise of this! Like, 100% this is the backbone of every anti-egg joke argument. That's the entire concept of "egg prime directive." And, it's overwhelmingly weaponized against trying to help transfems realize themselves sooner than they would. From the aforementioned Bushnell drama, to the polls where a shit ton of transmascs voted it was ok to tell an eggy friend they might be a trans man but NOT ok to tell an eggy friend they might be a trans woman, to the newest drama where chongoblog whined about a random trans woman on twitter making egg jokes about her friend (which it was later revealed chongoblog misrepresented the tweet), the anti egg joke committee / "You can't tell anyone they're trans!!!" crew are always wielding this ideology against transfems / trans women but practically never against transmascs.

This is why it's constantly said that these posts and arguments are transmisogynistic in nature. "I'm a trans woman and I say eggs jokes are bad, so it can't be transmisogynistic you're just using that as a shield!" That's great but 1) maybe read between the lines, or read the criticisms you're clearly ignoring and maybe you'll see these people don't respect you 2) the whole "using transmisogyny as a shield" is like, classic transmisogyny at this point. We've been hearing that from anti-feminists, cryptoterfs, and trans woman hating google doc writers for a few years now and 3) you being complicit doesn't mean we gotta care about what you say.

"it just feels like people are willfully misunderstanding eachother and its making my brain hurt"

Oh, I'm sure this is absolutely the case. The problem is a bunch of transphobes are really who spurred a lot of this drama up earlier this year and instead of people thinking "oh these people have bad intentions I shouldn't boost this" they instead were like "Yeah! I don't like egg jokes!" and now we have to deal with trans women making egg jokes (normal, harmless, pro-trans and literally want to help trans people) being compared to transvestigators (a literal anti-trans hate group thing). The issue is people aren't treating us as people, and thus it gets returned in kind.

What's the answer to this? Mutual understanding that "some people need to be told they're trans," "some people don't respond well to being told who they are," "egg jokes can help people and be a fun joke for friends," and "some people are uncomfortable with egg jokes" can all coexist. But, honestly, I don't think we'll ever get there.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#359

“What the fuck are you doing?  You know our arrangement.  You agreed to it.  I told you last time I wanted you here waiting for me naked.  If you don’t want to live up to your end of the bargain, fine I’ll fire your brother tomorrow.  If you don’t want your brother’s parole officer to know he’s unemployed and the reason why, then strip out of those fucking clothes….

“Get over here and give me a kiss….  I know you don’t like to kiss, but I do.  Right here on my lips….  You can do better than that.  I don’t want a peck, give me some tongue.

“You look disgusted.  Too bad.  Let me do this right….  Oh yeah.  Going forward, I expect this kind of kiss from you.  Damn, boy, you feel good in my arms.  There’s something about a man holding his naked boy that gets my juices flowing.

“Go ahead and reach down; feel how hard I am getting.  That’s all you baby.  Why don’t you unzip me and take it out while we kiss some more.  Oh yeah….

“That feels so good.  You are doing much better than what you did on Day 1; you’re accepting your role here.  You know my cock needs your submission.  You are accepting giving a blowjob as part of how you serve me.  I’m beginning to think that you are enjoying taking my dick down your throat.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you have swallowed my load without my prompting.

“Here pull in.  Lean against me.  Keep stroking me; you almost have me rock hard.  Your back is so smooth.  My rough hands like how silky it feels.  Oh my, your ass is… wow…  Now, my fingers are going into your crack.  Relax. 

“I told you that things are changing with today’s meeting.  The first is that I will be fucking you.  My finger likes feeling every fold of your pussy hole….  No, no, no.  Don’t pull away.  This pussy is mine.  Have you ever had a man fuck you before?...  Has anyone ever fingered you?...  So I will pop your cherry?  Hell yeah.

“I said, ‘Don’t pull away.’  I will be fucking you.  Your pussy is mine.  I own it.  It’s mine to do with what I want to do. 

“But you know… after I fuck you, you can say no to me fucking you again, and all this comes to an end.  I can go to your brother’s parole officer and show him the videos of him dealing.  He would be thrown back in prison so fast.  Then you will be on your own.  I know you are going off to college in the fall.  You’ll have to pay for that, and a place to live.  Working here on site cleaning up after the men doesn’t pay much.  You and your brother would be screwed.

“Here’s what I’m going to do.  I’m going to leave your brother alone.  No one needs to see those videos.  I will even recommend him for a different job.  One that pays him just under double what he is making now.  The guys love him.  Most don’t care that he went to jail for drug dealing years ago.  They would all be shocked to know about those videos though.

“All you have to do is to give me your pussy from this point on.  No resisting like you did when I had you first suck my dick.  I expect you to struggle to take my thickness, every virgin I have fucked does.  Those are your choices. 

“Lucky for you, I brought some lube.  Don’t move and keep stroking me.  Like that.  You got me pre-cumming.  Some fag boys that’s all they get from me when I fuck them.  You are going to need a lot more.

“This is going to feel a little wet….  Oh yeah.  Your pussy is soaking this up.  My finger almost slipped in; can’t have that happen.  My cock needs to be first in there. 

“Lie on the ground right there, face down and spread eagle.  Until I tell you to move, you keep your arms and legs in that position.  That’s to prevent you from standing back up. 

“Bitch, I’m about to claim this pussy.  Scream if you want to.  You and I both know everyone is gone.  No one will hear you.

“Feel my cockhead at your pussy lips?  Here it comes….  Quit squirming and relax.  Yeah you have a fully clothed six foot two, two hundred sixty pound, forty seven year old man lying on scrawny, naked, five seven, hundred fifty pound, eighteen year old pussy boy.  I know it’s difficult to breathe.  But there’s no way for you to pull off my cock.  This is going to happen.  Your pussy belongs to my dick.  I can feel its hunger.  Goddamned, it feels good.

“You ready to be cunted?  You ready to become my bitch cunt?  Because this pussy is going to be changing.  It’s going to be a cunt in a few moments.  That means it’s going to be my possession.  If you want to walk away and send your brother back to jail, now is the time to tell me….

“Ok, I own this cunt.  This is a hole that was made to be fucked.  By me.  And only me.  No one will be using this cunt unless I say so, and I won’t be saying so.  You are giving up all women and men.  It will only be my dick in here or down your throat.  You hear me cunt?  Who’s in charge?

“You’re damned right I am.  I will be putting one of those cock cages on you so that even you won’t have access to your pecker.  And if I ever catch you with another man,… or a woman, your brother will be back in jail so fast, and I throw you naked in the middle of a biker bar with the words ‘Rape Me’ on your forehead and across your back and walk away.

“I will be taking over your schooling.  I will decide what classes you will take.  Your life belongs to me.  My place is only minutes away from your college; you will move in to the one-bedroom suite attached to my garage.  Other than school, you will be naked there at all times, ready to take my cock when it demands it.

“You ready for your life to change, fag?  Answer me!...  Damned right.  Keep calling me Daddy. 

“I need to see your fucking cunt face.  Flip over on your back; Daddy needs to cunt you right.  I’m going to give you one hell of a gape when my cock is done with you. 

“This is a much better position.  Keep your legs up in the air and spread.  Damn, my cock just slid right back in, as if the cunt was made for taking it.  You can now look into my eyes.  You can watch me as I nut in you.

“I am so horned up.  I am ready to bust my first nut in my new cunt.  The best part of this position is that I can… smack you across the face.  Hell yeah I will be doing that going forward.  Gone are the caresses and the tender play.  That’s for pussies.  And you are a cunt.  A cunt gets smacked around.  Like this.  No reason other than you are a cunt.

“Oh fuck.  Oh fuck?  You ready for my first load in your cunt?  Because it’s going to flood your guts.  Here it fucking cums. 

“Ahhh.  Ahhhhhhh.  Ahhhhhhhhh.  Fuck yeah.  I can do this all day, and I will.  But we need to get to my place, your new home.

“Fuck faggot.  Giving your brother a raise and a promotion is well worth having access to this cunt of yours.  Let’s get going.  No you are remaining naked. 

“But first, clean off my cock.  Cunt, you have no say.  Besides you are always to leap to my dick to clean it off after it was inside of you.  If you think that’s nasty, wait until I get you under my rimseat for hours at end.”

[itspbandjellytime]

The Assistant [Hailee Steinfeld x Fem!Reader] - Chapter 3

Plot: Y/N Waldorf is fresh out of college and her first job is being Hailee Steinfeld's personal assistant, but what Y/N doesn't know is that Hailee is hiding a huge secret from the general public and from her, as her assistant.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter fic, you can also read this on wattpad under the same username "itspbandjellytime". This fanfic is also going to contain NSFW themes in the near future, so if you're under the age of 18 please don't read this. Thank you!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Word count: 1.4k words

[Y/N's POV]

The next day arrived, today is the day I move in with Hailee. I already packed my bags earlier this morning again, I looked at Jackie with a smile on her face and gave her a tight hug "Girl, don't be sad, at least we live in the same state now." I reassured her as she fake cries. Jackie pulls away from her and laughs "I know, I am just being very dramatic and besides, West Hollywood and Malibu is a 40 minute drive. You can visit anytime you want." Jackie told me "Hailee isnt expecting you to show up, that quick right?" Jackie asks me as I reached for the door. I respond with a shrug "Eh, better to be early.", Jackie grabs my wrist all of a sudden which made my eyes widen. "You good?" I ask her with a confused tone, Jackie told me to sit down on the couch with her for a bit.

"Yeah, It's just that I've been hearing something online about Hailee... you know... Keeping a secret from the general public?" Jackie said, as much as I love Jackie, she's my best friend, I will jump off a tall building and sell my organs for that woman... There are times that she relies on random and odd stuff on the internet, especially engaging in blind item pages like Deuxmoi. I furrow my brows, oblivious on what Jackie was telling me "What do you mean? Also what did I tell you interacting with those pages?" I said in a very motherly tone despite the fact that Jackie is two years older than me. 

"Heard it from Deuxmoi before you got here, someone said that Hailee Steinfeld is hiding a secret from the public and only her manager knows about it." Jackie says, and then gasps "Do you think she's pregnant?" 

"GIRL WHAT THE FUCK?!?" I yelled "You've been on Deuxmoi way too much! We both know that site is like the fifth? or lower circle in hell, you know what Tree Paine did when Deuxmoi went after Taylor Swift, right? Also we don't know these people personally!" I said, I let out a sigh and rubbed my temples, going silent for a while. "Look, whatever that is... I won't believe it." I said standing up, putting my hands up with a smile on my face.

Jackie smiles back, understanding what I just told her "Alright, but you know I am just one call away and we can meet up like once or twice a week." Jackie said, standing up again and giving me a hug. I hug Jackie back and nodded "Yeah, just message me if ever." I said, grabbing my bags and finally leaving the apartment.

Forty minutes later, I finally arrived at Hailee's lavish looking house located in Malibu. The house looked amazing from the outside and made me think what's in store inside as well, I parked my car somewhere and grabbed my bags from the trunk. I walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell, waiting for her to open the door. 

Seconds later, she opens the door for me. Hailee is wearing a pair of black yoga pants, a pair of sneakers and a black sports bra that shows off those toned abs of hers that makes me weak on my knees. She looks so hot, my heart starts racing and a lot of thoughts run through my mind seeing her like that. But I still kept my normal posture in tact to be a little bit professional "Hey, you're here! Come on in." Hailee says, inviting me to enter the house. 

I enter the house with my bags and I look around the place in awe, I knew that her house would look this good even though I've never seen the whole thing. "I'm sorry if I look like this, I just finished working out." Hailee says, leading me to her living room "Make yourself comfortable, Y/N." Hailee says again, I nod with a smile on my face and I sat down on her couch. I just stare at her walk to her kitchen as she grabs a bottle of cold water from her freezer, the way I look at her is filled with admiration and adoration. My little moment was broken when all of a sudden I heard two high pitched barks, I look down to see her yorkies Brando and Martini looking at me, their tails wagging in sync. 

"Oh my goodness, are these Brando and Martini?" I say, smiling at the dogs having some second thoughts if I should pet them both, I am a huge dog person but I have a huge fear of dogs biting me. "Yep, in the flesh! Don't worry they don't bite, they're super friendly." Hailee says, heading to the couch to sit next to me. Hailee puts Brando on my lap and he starts to lick my fingers, which caused me to chuckle and gently pet his head "He's starting to like you, are you a dog person?" Hailee asks. I nod in response as I kept petting Brando while Martini is lying down on my shoe "I have a German Shepard in Washington, his name is... Well... It's a ridiculous name." I said, trying to keep up with an actual conversation with Hailee. 

"Well, what's the name of your dog then?" Hailee asks, her hazel eyes looking into mine. I swear, I get lost in those eyes every time.

"His name is... Sir Tenderloin McAvish the Second... We call him Tendy for short." I answered, Hailee starts to burst out laughing once I told her the name of my family's dog. Her laugh is so contagious, it made me laugh as well "I am dead serious, that's his name." I said, pulling my phone out and showing a photo of Tendy to Hailee. "He's a rescue dog, we got him back in 2003. He's like a big baby." I said, showing her a photo of me and carrying Tendy like a baby. Hailee laughs and smiles at the photo of me and my dog, zooming in the photo to see him up close.

"Well you're not wrong Y/N, I treat these two like they're my own children. Oh wait, that reminds me... Come, I'll show you your room." Hailee says, standing up from the couch. I gently put Brando down on the floor again and watch him run around the living room with Martini, I picked my bags up and followed Hailee upstairs. I continued to admire the interior design of Hailee's house, it looks cozy and comfortable. "Alright, we're here." Hailee says, opening the door of my room for me. I entered the room and looked around, I have a comfortable bed and my own bathroom and TV. 

I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her "Thanks, your place is cool. Who's your interior designer?" I asked, Hailee leans against the door frame, crossing her toned arms. "My mom, she's the best." Hailee chuckles and looks at me, "Well I gotta say, your mom is cool. Quick question, have you ever done this before with your past assistants?" I ask, Hailee shook her head in response "Nope, most of my old personal assistants are people older than me cause you know I started this whole acting and music thing at a young age..." Hailee answers, taking a sip of water from her water bottle.

"So I am the first assistant to stay in your place then?" I asks, with a little hint of casualness.

"Yeah, I feel like you're going to be an assistant that will last long." Hailee responds, winking at me with a smirk on her face "Anyway, if you need anything else. Just let me know, this is your home now... Well once you get a place of your own." Hailee says, closing the door of my room.

I flopped down on the bed, lying on my back as I stare at the ceiling, letting out a sigh. Everything is happening all at once, it feels overwhelming but in a very positive manner to say the least. I furrow my brows a bit, looking back as I was looking around the place before heading to my room earlier. 

There was this room at the end of the hallway and it was dark, I didn't ask Hailee about it because it might come off as invasive and I might lose my job. So I just quickly assumed it was a storage room, or a room that has her awards, or a room that has one single box that has her scrapped music or that damn album everyone in the fandom is waiting for. Whatever lies in that room, I'll just ignore it and focus on one thing and one thing only. My job as Hailee's assistant.  

[ayeforscotland]

I’m using Duolingo for learning Mandarin and like. God no. If I didn’t already have a few years of actual school to teach me the grammatical structures, phonotactics, and tones, I would have no idea what the hell is going on. I’m learning a good amount of vocabulary, yeah, but at this point I might as well just follow those “new word a day” blogs or whatever. Sad.

I studied Mandarin at uni and tried Duolingo to keep up with my vocab etc after it and I found it fucking insufferable. A really fun Mandarin alternative is this site. It has a free/paid option but I generally found it a lot more fun, and it has a much better vocabulary trainer than Duolingo. Like it actually fucking drills you.

Also you play as a cute wee dragon in a world of cats so a gazillion times better than that little fucking owl.

[tilthedayidice]

Hey welcome back to my BG3 Hot Takes

While I have your attention, here's a cool site to help Palestine, all you gotta do is click it daily.

This session was inspired by @lipsie, gettin me ttalkin way too much. Yes I am aware that the tadpole changes things, and they have to make it balanced for the game blah blah blah- let a bitch complain.

Screenshots sourced from the Baldur's Gate 3 Wiki

Gale is the only character I feel is spec'd correctly, He's smart but fiuckin stupid, he has autism rizz, mam could not lift any box you asked him to, the only reason his constitution is 13 is because he's been dealing with the Orb and he's used to it by now.

Karlach should start with 20 strength and you CANNOT convince me otherwise, her charisma should be higher also, she's a ball of sunshine and could put the fear of god into anyone, and the line "Gods I wanna ride you til you see stars" will never leave my brain. Give this bitch a 15. She do be a little dumb I'll give you that.

Shadowheart is just funny to me, How can her wisdom be a 17 when she's been cloistered away for so long? Her wisdom is only a 17 in ONE SPECIFIC SUBJECT, a subject where she's forced to give up her memories. Memories are where we get our wisdom. Wisdom is gained through lived experiences, I'd give you the 17 for endgame Shart, but not start of game Shart. I'll take the 8 CHA cause she's a bitch (said with love, me too babe) but she knows enough to get what and where she wants so I think we should nudge it up to like 10.

Lae'zel.... I think it's unfair to put Lae'zel's intelligence at 10. Her wisdom being low, yeah i get that she's been cloistered away in a society that believes its the only way, it's all she knows. But intelligence? No. She might know much about Faeruns culture and people, but she knows EVERYTHING about the stars. And there's far more of that than there will ever be of Faerun. She's the funniest person we know, give her 9 CHA.

Wyll my beloved, do you airbrush those abs on? Do you wake up every morning and contour them? I DON'T BELIEVE YOU DO!!!!!!!!! SO WHO'S THE ASS WHO DECIDED YOUR STRENGHT WAS A FUCKIN 8??????? THE BLADE OF FRONTIERS SHOULD HAVE AT LEAST A 13. He deserve a 15 but I know they won't give it to him. Lipsie and I were talking about him and they're right, WHEN WE DUMP THE BITCH HE SHOULD RESPEC INTO BARD.

Astarion..... oh Astarion.... you're such a disaster. Such a wet cat of a man. Such a pathetic little mew mew. I shit on him a lot, but I do really love his character and development lol. LESS STR MAKE HIM WEAK, he has been starved and living off rats and shame, he can have his measly 8 AFTER he drinks... uh "Thinking" Blood. His CHA being 10 is perfect actually no notes. I personally think his actual INT should be lower, not too much lower, maybe 11/12, I knooooow he was a magistrate, but you can't tell me he's not giving himbo... no what was that word on the meme graph? Himbim? Himbim.

Halsin.......... 10 STR? 10?!?!?!?! You built him LIKE THAT and give him 10 STR?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!? What in the nine hells...... Weaker than Karlach of course, but 10????? Give that man 15 at least 8 INT???????????? 8???????? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HATE HIM???? Is it because he isn't Gale? Mans has been studying the mindflayers on his own, he's been studying the shadow curse... on his own. HE'S A MASTER HEALER?!?!?! AN ARCHDRUID?!?!?!?!?!?!? That takes time, study, and dedication. You wanna assign him himbo so bad. He's just a whole well rounded man with autism,. (Not a dig on himbos, quite literally my favorite genre of Man). This is just 'cause he fucks isn't it.

Minthara she's so much smarter than Larian gives her credit for. While I agree with the WIS, that's more a product of being so closed off, Her INT is much higher. I'd give her a 14? She cunning, just because it's used for Evil deeds doesn't mean she hasn't been she hasn't put a lot of thought into her work. She lived in Menzoberranzan for Gods' sake. She had to be smart or be killed?!? She's said so on multiple occasions! Just because she's Evil aligned doesn't mean she not smart. (She's just as smart as our average Bear according to Larian)

Minsc...... First off let me say that I love that they chose this image. A Bad Bitch. Anyways, anyone who doesn't find that dumb happy face charming is either lying or literally has a stick up their ass.... 12 CHA. Also why is he so weak? I know he isn't like actually weak... but mans chunked that mimic? Let him have 14.

Jaheira I'll give you the 10 STR, she's complained about her knees like three times in my most recent session. 8 INT? So what I'm getting here.... is anyone not an origin character is just baseline 8? Lazy. Especially considering she was ALREADY GIVEN STATS IN TWO PREVIOUS GAMES. In both BG1 and BG2 she has an intelligence of 10, and if anything she's only gotten smarter over time. I wasn't gonna do this... but left is 1 right is 2.

15, 14, 17, 10, 14, 15, and 15, 17, 17, 10, 14, 15

Make it make sense. I know she's old at this point, but in my game she killed Sarevok again so idk man.

Rip me apart in the notes ;)

But do it nicely...

[daughterofcain-67]

𝙾𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 (𝚙𝚝.5)

(Soldier Boy x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Butcher, Ben, Hughie and yourself go to the Twins’ place so Ben could get some answers he needed, at least he hoped that would be the outcome. But afterward, a certain interference with Homelander brought back some memories of past events leading up to your retirement, which Ben doesn’t take lightly. You may have to find a compromise or some sort of middle ground.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of Herogasm,spoilers to S3E6 - to an extent (same ideas happen, executed in different ways), if you haven’t reread part four, the way Ben and Y/N have met has changed if you’d like to reread that so things can make more sense in this chapter. That was the only part that was changed in the previous chapter, (basically she met Ben in ‘45 after WWII ended because Liberty wanted her to meet Edgar and be involved with Vought as a minor hero, they didn’t get along initially.) Mentions of how Y/N retired, brief and indescriptive mentions of torture, implications of smut or leading up to it at the end.

You were sitting in the back seat of Butcher’s car with Ben and you looked out of the window while the four of you were driving to Vermont to interrupt TNT’s herogasm celebration. Seventy years since that mess started and you still don’t see the appeal. It just wasn’t your thing, never has been.

You could hear Ben softly snoring beside you. You had forgotten how long you were on the road and how draining they could be most of the time. While Butcher and Hughie were talking about some nonesense, you glanced over at the man beside you. Softening at the sight of him, a part of you wondered if this was still some sort of dream you were in. You wondered if this was actually your reality and Soldier Boy really had come back somehow.

Ben’s head was tilted back while his eyes were closed, his freckles seemed more prominent today than normal. He was handsome and you knew you had to treasure the little moments like this for as long as you could. You never knew what could happen after all.

You let out a soft breath before you leaned to the side and placed your head on his shoulder. You didn’t try to sleep though, instead you kept your gaze on the road from the backseat. Eventually, you realized that Butcher was pulling up somewhere discreet that must not have been that far away from the twins’ home. This must’ve been your stop since you realized the brooding man with the accent had turned off the engine.

“Ben, wake up.” You whispered and softly have his leg a little nudge.

He opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings, realizing the ride was over. He looked down at you and gave you a soft grin before he started getting out of the car with the others.

“You coming with us?” Ben asked you and you sighed a little.

“Are you going to be blasting the Hell out of people or are you going to talk first like a sane person?” You asked with a little smirk, Ben rolled his eyes at you.

“We’ll see what happens. Just as long as people don’t get in my way.”

“Then I guess I’ll go with you to at least be on lookout. Lot’s of Vought’s supes will be there.” You sighed, getting out of the car, you just hoped he’s stay out of trouble.

Once you were out of the car, you walked along side Soldier Boy as you both followed Butcher and Hughie to the site. The four of you his behind some trees while Butcher pulled out a set of binoculars so he could see what exactly the group was getting yourselves into.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t hard to figure out what the group was getting themselves into because you could already hear the distant sounds of pornographic moans from people going to town on each other in broad daylight.

“So this is just some fucking Supe orgy.. Great…” Hughie said, sharing your disgust.

“Still a thing, huh? Wow.” Butcher said and Ben scoffed.

“Yeah, my thing. Founded it in ‘52 with Liberty. Good times…” Ben said, and you wondered how he would react about the news revealing she was also known as Stormfront, a former Nazi. That would be an interesting conversation to say the least especially since he fought the Nazis. Or so he likes to claim.

“And you knew he started all this?” Hughie asked you and you shrugged.

“What he did before he and I started getting along is beyond my business and I never cared to butt in. Especially with his…. Extra activities and interests.” You said for lack of a better word or phrase.

“Frenchie’s gonna be mad when he misses this.” Butcher joked, you didn’t know enough about Frenchmen to say anything but you still didn’t want to know what his interests were if he liked this kind of thing.

You heard Hughie discussing with Ben how he would go there first so he could tell Ben exactly where the twins were so no one gets hurt by getting in Soldier Boy’s way. You had a feeling that would be something that was easier said than done. You just leaned against one of the trees while they discussed their plans.

“You’ve got three minutes, Kid.” Ben said and that was when Hughie ran off and disappeared.

Ben watched you leaning against the tree, looking down at the grass. He smirked a little and wondered how you would react if you actually stepped into that room, how wide your eyes would get when you saw everything that was going on in that house. “You know it really isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

“Oh says the one that’s been to like a ton of them.” You said and shook your head, cringing at the thought of what was going on inside, and outside apparently.

“Of course I did, I started it after all. Liberty and I invited you, remember? It’s not like it would have killed you to go.” He reminded you and you cringed.

“No but it probably would have traumatized me. I don’t want to see everybody’s business.” You replied, Ben just laughed at you and you looked over at Butcher.

Butcher pulled out his phone while you two were talking and he looked at the time, then he glanced over at Soldier Boy, “His three minutes is up, Mate. You ready to get this show on the road?”

Ben finally looked over at Butcher and saw that he was putting his little rectangle device away then he looked down at you, “I’ll be in and out. Two more names crossed off the list and we’ll be one step closer to all of this being over with.”

He watched you lift your gaze to meet his and you nodded, “I’ll keep an eye out from here. I’ll give you a rumble or something if I can see any trouble.”

“Just as long as you stay out of trouble too, Doll. Payback knows I’m after them.” He said.

“I know how to keep watch. And I know how to take care of myself too if something’s not right.” You reminded.

He smiled, thankful you at least had his back even if you didn’t agree with this and didn’t even want to go into this. Butcher tossed Ben the binoculars and he handed them to you so you could keep watch. You took them as Ben leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head before he started walking off so he could head to the house, Butcher following behind.

He was one step closer to his goal in finding out who was behind his team stabbing him in the back, and he was eager to find out who exactly had the audacity to do such a thing.

You watched as Soldier Boy left with Butcher and you mentally wished him luck, truly hoping for the best for the outcome of all this. You just hoped that this wouldn’t be a repeat of what happened back in town when Ben accidentally killed all those innocent people. All you could do at the moment was wait and see what would happen.

A few minutes had passed and your eyes widened when you saw a blast shoot from the side of the building. Soon enough the entire building went down and you could hear so many people screaming in terror and pain from what was happening. You lifted the binoculars to your eyes for any sign of Soldier Boy through the rubble, ignoring the sites of random supes totally naked.

Everything happened so fast! He just walked in and he was just supposed to talk to the twins first! What the Hell happened in there?!

From what you could see, it was barely a glimpse of Ben putting a hand on one of the now burned couches. He looked around with confusion and you could tell he hadn’t realized exactly what he had done.

What the Hell was causing his black outs? How could you help get them to stop so he wouldn’t be killing so many people? You knew this couldn’t have been on purpose, could it?

Then trouble came by. It was only a glimpse and you had to do a double take but when you looked up at the sky, you could see a man in blue wearing a cape.

Homelander.

“Shit!” You cursed. So you dropped the binoculars, raised your hands and the earth beneath you began to rumble and that was your warning for Soldier Boy and Butcher.

Then, you shifted your feet and raised an arm before a pillar shot up from the earth several yards away from the entrance of the house and knocked Homelander from the sky to take him by surprise.

You made the same exact motions for another pillar to knock him around but he dodged this time. Unfortunately, this much power you were trying to use was starting to drain you.

“Fuck, why do I have to be so rusty with this?” You muttered and you stomped your foot and a large boulder popped up from the ground made up of the concrete in front of the entrance to the twins’ house and you hurled it as best as you could towards Homelander but he just used his laser vision and broke the boulder apart.

“Damnit!”

You were feeling weaker and weaker the more you tried to manipulate the earth, then when you realized that Homelander was now flying in your direction, you realized you might have been screwed.

“Fuck…”

A lot had happened within the past several minutes, and the first ten he had blacked out. He knew that he must’ve been the one behind blowing up this house. He could hear people screaming in terror outside when it happened but he didn’t remember any of it. He had no fucking clue what happened.

Maybe this was a part of why you were so hesitant about this entire thing.

That was when he felt the rumbling beneath him and when he looked over at Butcher, it was like both the men knew another fight was about to happen. But they could hear more commotion and when Ben walked outside, he saw that some random pillars had been made leading to the entrance of the house.

When he caught a glimpse of some boulder, clearly of your making, hurling towards some guy in a star-spangled cape only for it to explode from the two lasers in his eyes. But the moment Ben realized that the man he assumed was Homelander was flying in your direction, his eyes widened.

“Fucking Hell, Y/N…”

“Oy, what’s happening out ‘ere?” Butcher asked, rubbing his head to check and see if he had any bumps from the damaged building.

“Quake’s about to get herself into trouble if we don’t haul ass, that’s what.” Ben said as he started running into your direction.

He hated this feeling, and he only had it whenever you were on a mission before you retired. He never had this feeling with his other teammates, not until what happened to you after the ridiculous stunt you pulled back in the day.

Deep down he knew you were strong and capable. Hell, you could manipulate the earth however you wanted to and he was sure that if you had to, you could take down armies single handed, at least you could way back when. But Ben knew next to nothing about Homelander, and he didn’t know how good you were in a battle against another supe, especially one with a reputation like Homelander.

Especially since he knew what happened to you in ‘83.

When Ben made it to you, he saw that you were in combat with the so-called hero. You were trying and struggling to keep Homelander enclosed with some rock and soil wrapped around him since you didn’t exactly have concrete on hand and Homelander broke through your hold easily. Ben noticed blood dripping from your nose and he knew something was wrong.

Ben watched as Homelander flew towards you and he suddenly had his hand wrapped around your neck. With one effortless move, the hero flung you further into the forest and your back and head hit one of the trees, knocking you out. Then, Homelander turned to Ben and Butcher.

“Soldier Boy.. so you really are back from the dead.”

Ben’s jaw tightened and he could feel the rage building up, but he wanted to know what this condescending prick had to do with Butcher and why he was wrapped up in this shit anyway.

“Butcher, you and I had a deal. You brought outside interferences…. Deal’s off.” The next thing Ben knew, Homelander used his laser vision on Butcher and knocked the dust off him. Then the man in the cape turned back to Ben.

“You know… I really am a fan. I looked up to you, grew up watching all of your movies. You were the only person I could think of that was as strong as me.” Ben rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Look, Bud, I don’t need some fan boy to tell me how he thinks he’s so strong when he’s wearing some cape. Like what the fuck kind of weak son of a bitch needs a cape?”

“Weak? Compared to you, Old Man, I’m the upgrade.”

That was when the battle began between the two heroes. Ben had no idea just how strong this kid was until they started fighting. It was impressive, honestly. When Ben was backed up against a tree, he threw a mighty punch in the hero’s face and used his shield to push him off. That was when Butcher finally came to and used some laser vision he must’ve been keeping secret and he blasted the fuck out of Homelander to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Homelander was taken back from what Ben could see and he realized that the two were using their laser vision against each other and that could last who knew how long. Ben rushed over and pulled the hero by the cape and tugged him towards himself and threw yet another punch to the face, only for Homelander to return the favor. Butcher decided he wanted in and he managed to land a couple of punches against Homelander, who was getting frustrated by being cornered.

Ben used one last punch and used all of his strength and punched Homelander right in the face and it managed to knock the hero down to the ground. Butcher tackled Homelander down to the ground and pinned him there.

“Now!” Butcher yelled and Ben knew exactly what he meant and he put his hands on Homelander’s shoulders and other arm to make sure he couldn’t try going anywhere.

Ben closed his eyes and focused on absorbing as much energy as he could so he could prepare to blast the Hell out of this guy. Hughie finally decided to show up, ass naked, as he helped keep Homelander pinned to the ground. The energy building up in his chest was getting stronger and stronger by the second but he could feel Homelander struggling beneath him.

Suddenly, some sort of adrenaline from his life being in danger must’ve struck Homelander because some sort of strength overpowered him and he got out of Hughie and Butcher’s grasp and flew up and away to wherever the fuck he came from.

“Fucking Christ! We were so bloody close!” Butcher cursed, pissed off with how that went down. Understandably so…

Ben could feel the energy in his chest dissipating as he tried not to use it to blast anyone he didn’t need to. then he turned his attention to you. He saw your figure laying in front of a tree and he immediately got up and went over to check on you. What the actual fuck were you thinking drawing attention to yourself?! You were supposed to keep watch, not get yourself wrapped up in the fight!

“Y/N?” He questioned when he made it to your side and when he checked your pulse. He let out a breath of relief when he realized your pulse was still there, you probably just got the wind knocked out of you or something. It still didn’t change the fact that he was a little pissed at the situation you put yourself in.

Well… maybe more than a little pissed.

“How is she?” Hughie asked as he covered himself as best as he could.

“She’s fine. She’ll probably have a concussion, she’s been through a Hell of a lot worse.” Ben said and he set down his shield before lifting you up and he slung you over his shoulder. His brows narrowed as he recalled how easily Homelander slung you into a tree. What would have happened if you hit your head just right? You could have died if you weren’t careful.

“Uh… You alright?” He heard the runt ask and he didn’t respond. Instead he just lifted his shield once more and started walking to the car.

You had woken up several hours ago. You didn’t need to be checked out despite Hughie’s relentless suggestions to do so. All you had was a bit of a bump on your head and a bruise on your back from where you hit that damned tree. You were lucky, and you knew that. But it helped that you already had a lot of durability anyways.

However, things were tense in the backseat between you and Ben. You knew that he had a lot of things shooting through his mind at light speed. And you also knew that he wanted to tell you a lot of it, probably lecture you on how you were stupid or something.

He always hated when you were on a mission and he wasn’t there. No matter how many times you reassured him in the past that you didn’t break easily, he still hated when you were reckless. Especially after the last mission you were involved in that ultimately lead to your retirement.

It was 1983

You had been an official hero under Vought for several decades at this point, since 1946. Naturally you refused to be a part of Payback when they offered, you liked being one of the lower heroes despite Vought thinking your abilities would be good for Payback for their upcoming plans to get supes into the military.

Anyway, even though you wanted to be a lower rating hero and you wanted to avoid being a spectacle for the public you still wanted to do something that mattered. You were tired of being put on some sort of neighborhood watch and take care of petty crimes. You had read the newspapers and heard the reports on the radio. The Cold War was at its worst, and you wanted to help defend the country in a way Vought wasn’t allowing you to.

A part of you had regretted not being a part of Payback, but they were going about this whole military ting all wrong. They were more concerned about their ratings, how well their movies were selling, none of them cared to actually go and see any combat. You wanted that to change and you wanted supes to be legitimate, you wanted Vought to be responsible and show their supes that being a hero was different from publicity stunts and movies.

You were naive thinking you could actually make a difference in the country by your unauthorized little mission.

You found out a way to make some sort of fake identification for the government to disguise yourself. You were able to sneak into one of the secretary offices and find some files that the government didn’t want to release to the public and cause even more of a panic. You found out a lot about the nuclear arms and some of the testing sites, some known to the public and most unknown.

You found out a hell of a lot more than you wanted to, more information about both America and the Soviets, than you preferred. You found that the Soviets were reported at NATO. You decided to go to the hangar and see exactly what could prevent a war from happening. You found out was the Americans testing their bombs, mock bombings on Soviet territory. The air force and the navy were both involved and they were getting away with it. You even found out about the situation at NATO. And to those who payed attention to their history lessons, they know that NATO was a catastrophic event and it nearly caused the third World War. You weren’t the only one that was trying to help prevent everything.

But in the midst of this information gathering, you had been caught going through the files and you were mistaken as a spy.

You were taken into custody and when it was discovered that you were a Vought supe, they conducted experiments on you to try and find out what exactly gave you the powers you had. They were even getting the idea to take your DNA and find a way to take your powers away, just incase other countries had supes and it wasn’t just America.

They took countless amounts of blood, poked and prodded your brain, tried to find anything that would take your ability away and make you into a normal person, no powers whatsoever.

However, because Vought didn’t want anyone to know about the serum, Edgar sent Soldier Boy and Crimson Countes to retrieve you. And you had been in a rough shape because of the experiments used to try and take your powers. You were significantly weaker when they found you and it was never determined just how much of your abilities you lost, if you had lost any.

Vought ended up covering your involvement with the government, and Soldier Boy and Countess were able to destroy any evidence of the government’s experiments on you to find their biological weaknesses. Vought had become skilled in covering up scandals, failures, and anything that would ruin the company.

That was when they forced you to retire and you ended up working with Grace Mallory for a short period of time.

You blinked the memories away of your failure, and now you knew exactly why you felt drained while trying to fight Homelander.

You had forgotten just how much energy those experiments seemed to take away from you. Those experiments seemed to have taken away some sort of endurance you had in the past. Your powers weren’t taken away, just the amount of time you could use your powers. It was humiliating to know just how eat you were now, knowing that you could only use your powers for a small amount of time.

The car eventually pulled up to The Legend’s place so they could all stay there while Butcher would look for Mindstorm. Everyone else got out of the car and you heard Ben open the door on his side, “Come on.”

You could tell from those two words alone that he wasn’t exactly pleased, but what’s done is done and it’s not like the mission was ruined. Still, you got out of the car and you followed the rest of the group into the house, much to Legend’s annoyance.

“Hey, you guy’s can’t just waltz in here like you own the place!” He protested and Ben was dismissive as always.

“Hotel was too cramped. We need a place to crash while we find where Mindstorm is.” He said.

“That paranoid fuck? Do you know how long that’s going to take? How many cabins you all will have to go through?”

“As long as it fucking takes. And you.” Ben directed his attention to you, “You’re with me. Now.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, not exactly wanting to hear the inevitable lecture. But you followed him nonetheless and you could hear Legend in the background.

“Problems killing the twins?”

“Twins are dead. It’s the fight with Homelander and how Quake got knocked around that’s got him pissed off.” Hughie answered.

“Oh wonderful… we may as well try to find a start on Mindstorm. The sooner we find him, the sooner I can get you kids out of my house.”

Ben found the spare bedroom and he slammed the door shut behind him since you were already in the room by that time.

“You wanna tell me what the actual fuck you were thinking back there?”

He heard you let out a scoff and turned to look at him, “What I was thinking? I didn’t know what the fuck happened to you after that blast you created! I didn’t know when you’d collect yourself and I saw Homelander was coming! I did what I had to do!”

“I was perfectly fine! You were supposed to give a small signal if something went wrong! Or is that something you forgot before Homelander slung you around like some fucking rag doll?”

“Oh so I wasn’t supposed to help you out after you destroyed a building and killed even more people?”

“Look, my blackout isn’t the problem here! You know what happens when you use your powers like that! I hate when you get fucking reckless because you always, without fail, get yourself into trouble! Look at what happened in ‘83!”

“I can look out for myself, Ben. It’s been years since those blasted experiments and it’s not like I used my powers all the time after that! I lied low for a reason and it was a lot more than just those damned experiments.”

“Yeah. Mallory. I remember her from the military when I was shipped off. Butcher and Hughie told me about your little record after I was gone. I’m surprised you didn’t get yourself killed sooner.”

“Ben, I’m not incompetent. I know how the fuck to handle myself. I was a hero long before that disaster.” He could hear you say and he rolled his eyes as he put his shield down somewhere.

“You know, you’re lucky you were never a part of Payback. You wanna know what I would have done to you if you fucked up like this under my watch and under my leadership?” He asked.

“Let me guess, you’d beat the Hell out of me just to teach me a lesson. You were never a good leader, Ben. You were better off working alone like when you supposedly stormed Normandy and the Eagle’s Nest.” You told him and his jaw tightened before he lifted his hand but stopped himself when he was close to wrapping his fingers around your neck.

He sighed and put his hand down and walked off to the window, gazing out of it as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“You know, after nearly half the century we’ve known each other, I hoped you had grown out of that smart mouth of yours.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before he looked back at you crosssing your arms over your chest.

“I know they drained something out of you. You can’t hide that from me. If you were at your full capacity you wouldn’t have passed out after Homelander tossed you to the side.”

He saw you lift your gaze to meet his before you looked away from him.

“You were the one that wanted me to come along with this whole revenge thing remember? You were the one that agreed to kill Homelander and wanted me to be here with you on this whole mission. You must’ve known I’d have to fight eventually if I thought there was trouble especially when it comes to you.” You said, and Ben sensed a slight change in your tone, becoming a little less argumentative which made him change his tone a little.

“I know that. But my point is when you do have to fight, do you have to be so damned reckless? What would have happened if you used too much of your abilities and that asshole slammed you a little too hard to a tree? What if you hit your head just right or broke your neck or some shit and you end up losing your life because you didn’t stick to just being a lookout?”

“Awe, was the strong, stoic Soldier Boy actually worried?” You said and he knew you were trying to lighten things up, but it wasn’t really working for him. He walked over to you again and saw that necklace you still wore.

Ben lifted his hand and hooked his fingers around the chain of the necklace and watched as the pendant copy of his shield dangled from your neck, “Yes. I was… And it pisses me off because I’m supposed to be the strongest man alive and I’m not supposed to have worries like that. I never worried like that until what happened.”

“Even the strongest people in the world have their own worries. Some are just better at hiding it from others. But you have to realize that I know what I’m capable of. And when I know you’re in danger, I’m going to do anything I can to make sure you’re alright and nothing happens to you again, no matter if my life is at risk during the process.” He heard you say, causing him to sigh and he hated how stubborn you were but he also knew it was practically no use in fighting with you about this.

“But you’re right… I did make mistakes. And I know I said I wanted to go with you to make sure you stayed out of trouble, but it’s kind of pathetic now that I know my abilities have limits, huh? Little hypocritical too…” He heard you say, sounding a little discouraged because of it all.

Ben let go of the chain around your neck only to cup your face in the palm of his hand, “Maybe we’re not so perfect, but we try.”

He watched you look up at him again and he noticed one of your brows arch upwards, “That doesn’t sound like you at all. The Ben I know would never admit to imperfection.”

“To be fair, the Ben you knew trusted people that stabbed him in the back and shipped him off to the Ivans where they had radioactive shit pumped into him.” He corrected.

“I don’t know if that compensates… but I guess it’ll work.” You let out a soft chuckle, causing Ben to give a alight grin.

“But you know that I’ll still have your back even if my methods tick you off, right?” You said and he sighed.

“So we’re still in square one from where this little fight started?”

“Well… maybe step two. I’ll be careful, but I’m still doing what I have to.” You said and he hated that he had to compromise, but Ben supposed this was as good of a compromise as he’ll get from you for the time being.

“Fine. At least for now I’ll work with that.” Ben finally replied after a few moments before he walked over to the bed and sat down on the corner of it.

You watched Ben sit down and he ran a head through his hair. You could tell a lot was going through his mind and the risky move you made didn’t help much. But with Ben you had to stand your ground otherwise you’d get nowhere. But you could tell something else was bothering him.

You slowly walked over and you sat next to him, placing your hand on top of his that was gripping the edge of the mattress, “What did the Twins say before they died?”

“They said they didn’t really have anything to do with the group sending me off… they said that Noir was behind all of it.” He finally said and he rubbed his hand over his face before putting his hand on his thigh.

“Noir? But he’s too loyal to Vought. Surely they didn’t want anything to happen, they couldn’t have told Noir to orchestrate it. You were their top hero for so many years.” You said, becoming just as lost as Ben was.

“I’m not so sure anymore, Y/N. Something’s not right about this and I’m hoping that once we find Mindstorm, I’ll know more even if I have to beat it out of him.” You sighed a little.

“You really need to figure out a different way to find information from people. Killing and beating people up isn’t always the answer and maybe that’s why they were so eager to betray you in the first place.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just some tough love. They fuck up, I teach them a lesson so they don’t screw up next time.”

“A lot’s changed, Ben. You can’t just beat your teammates anymore. People don’t stand for that abuse nowadays and you could get yourself in trouble for that. There’s just a lot of things you need to catch up on.” You said, knowing most of these changes he more than likely wouldn’t agree with.

“Wait so the country’s just been raising a bunch of pussies all these years?”

“Ben, let that be a rant for some other time. Think about where Mindstorm could be. Do you know of anything that could help Butcher find him any faster?” You said and he shrugged a little.

“Not really, just that the paranoid fucker’s in some shack or cabin somewhere in the woods. I wouldn’t know for sure where that would be or even what areas to look anymore.” He said and you leaned over and kissed his cheek softly.

“I’m sure Hughie and Butcher are capable of figuring it out. I mean they found me and I didn’t want to be found either.” You reminded and he hummed lowly before he pulled a little container from one of his pockets. One of the guys must’ve given him something to help calm him down.

Before he lit up his cigarette, he perked up and looked around. You saw his eyes darting around the room, “Did you hear something?”

You tilted your head a little before you shook your head a little, “Ben, I don’t hear anything.”

He let out a soft hum before finally lighting up his cigarette that you assumed had weed in it and he lifted it to his lips. You hoped it would calm his nerves down a little and you had a feeling he was suffering with some form of PTSD. You wondered if that had something to do with his over the top energy blasts.

“Why don’t you get out of your uniform and relax? It’s been a long day and it’ll take a few days to find Dan.” You said and Ben hummed again and put the cigarette in the ash tray.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. You know, you could always help me out of my uniform.” He told you and you smirked and rolled your eyes.

“You don’t need my help with anything.” You replied and he placed one of his large hands on your thighs, giving it a light squeeze.

“No, I don’t…. But you’d make it more fun.” He said with that cocky smirk of his.

“Besides… we could pick up where we left off from the night I went to your place.” He said and you realized he was leaning down. The next thing you knew you could feel his breath on your neck followed by his lips.

“Ben… Now’s not exactly the time or the place, is it?” You asked softly, trying not to let out any sorts of noises after you felt his teeth nibbling at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Legend’s heard way worse… besides, I think this is long overdue.” He continued his work on your neck and you placed your hand on his shoulder.

“I-I suppose it could be.” You said softly and he lifted his head from your neck and you saw a familiar, deliciously dark look in those beautifully colored orbs of his. Then he leaned in and captured your lips with his own in a breathtaking kiss.

Tag List:

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[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case: Eddie Munson x Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Chapter 3: No One Like You

I’m back bitches. This chapter was a bastard to get out. I’ve been fucking around writing for every other scenario except the one where you two actually fucking get together. Fucking shit.

I hope you all enjoy my autistic rambling about Dune as well.

[Masterlist] - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three (You are Here) - [Latest]

****

“You ever read Clan of the Cave Bear?” You asked.

It was such a non sequitur. You heard an obnoxious snort from next to you threaten to turn into laughter.

“No, what… what the hell is that?” Eddie was red faced. Giggling.

“Prehistoric science fiction, bro” you said. “Caveman shit.”

“Cavemen?!”

Eddie guffawed. Covering his face with his hands as his giggles threatened again.

“It’s not funny!” You whined, unable to control your laughter.

“I’m so… ha! I… I’m sorry…” Eddie insisted, taking a deep breath and exhaling through pursed lips. “I’m sorry. But you said… you said it’s about cavemen?”

“Yeah like, a girl from the Cro-Magnon people gets adopted by a group of Neanderthals and she becomes this hunter who’s all bad, right? Then she gets kicked out of her cave and the second book opens up with her in this valley where she tames a horse and a lion cub. Real girl power shit. But it’s crap.”

“Why crap?”

“Because the girl turns into this air headed romance novel heroine when she meets her perfect jock caveman boyfriend.” You said. “And the book got all torcido in the second novel. You wanna know what her boyfriend Jondalar’s biggest flaw is?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your critique of the story.

"Lay it on me. What's the great character flaw of Jondalar, Mr. Perfect Caveman Boyfriend?"

“He’s sad because no girl on earth can handle his huge fucking wiener.”

Eddie screamed. Honest to god screamed. Screamed like a banshee and then dissolved into the worst fit of laughter you’d ever seen, laughing so hard you could have sworn you saw him trying to clench his butt cheeks so he wouldn’t laugh so hard he’d accidentally fart. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but the idea of a sad dimwitted caveman crying over his trouser snake was too much.

"I swea… I…” he paused, wheezing before he finally inhaled and managed to speak, “God dammit. How the hell did that even make it into a real book?!"

“Evidently Jean M. Auel had a lot of money and a lot of free time to be traveling to sites where they dug up remains.”

You sat up straight on the leather seats of Eddie’s Gaucho, hands seeking out the tactile wonderland of the spots on the leather seats where the top grain had begun to disintegrate.

“Like… imagine though?” you said, voice lowering to a conspiratory whisper as if Jean M. Auel herself was lurking outside the windows listening in, “You spend all kinds of money to actually learn how to make stone tools, build a lean to, and then you go and fuck it all up writing about sad peepee man over here.”

Eddie laughed even harder, his shoulders shaking and his face now burning red as a tomato.

"Peepee man, oh my God... You're killing me here! And… Ha ha, yeah… all that free time and money to learn about the Stone Age, just to turn it into a cringe-fest with Jondalar and his... oh shit!"

There was a frantic scrambling to prevent disaster after Eddie’s muddy Reeboks knocked over a full ashtray, sending a few roaches flying with the blunt in a sea of ashes onto the already filthy floor of the Gaucho. He looked at you, looked at the mess, then began howling again with laughter. You burst into laughter too, a delayed reaction. The distinctly pungent, acrid odor of the aftermath had already gone stale in the enclosed space, and it made you cough a little when you inhaled.

When you both finally looked up at one another after a moment of calm, you noticed Eddie was staring directly at you, smiling widely.

“Damn… you're a bundle of laughs when you're stoned, aren't you? I’ve never met a dork like you who was so captivated by prehistoric wiener.”

“Stop it…” you threatened, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter, “Don’t make me laugh… I… I’m gonna pee…!”

He was about five seconds away from laughter himself. Biting his lower lip to stop the sound.

“Oh? You want me to stop? Because believe it or not, I’ve got a whole arsenal of stupid jokes I can whip out to see how bad you really need to pee…”

A loud yelp erupted from his throat, followed by laughter when you began swatting him with your Carhartt jacket. The fabric made a snapping sound as it connected with his skin, and the both of you looked like jocks having a towel fight in a locker room when he began hitting you with his denim vest.

Before the van, before the two of you shared the reefer, Eddie had still been holding you by the waist back at school, the two of you hellbent on basking in the presence of one another. Then the bell rang to dismiss the first period, and you had honest to god pouted.

“Don’t make that face.” Eddie had grinned. “Who says we’re going to second period?”

“Huh?!”

“You really think I’m going to let you go to class? Away from me? Nah, we’ve got better things to do. You’re sticking with me today, princess.”

His voice dropped down into a conspirator’s whisper, hot breath ghosting along your ear as he spoke again.

“Unless…” he teased, “You wanna… you know, be a good girl and to second period…?”

“Hell no.”

“Didn’t think so.” He grinned. “After all, we only just started getting properly acquainted. What say you to us having a little alone time in my rather… unorthodox school hang out spots?”

He gave a light squeeze. A promise of an exciting adventure.

You scowled.

“… Bro I don’t even wanna be here at school.” You murmured. “I hate it here.”

His expression had softened. Maybe it was the hint of vulnerability in your voice, or the fact that you looked wilted and drained, either way he nodded eagerly. Desperately trying to please you from the looks of things.

“Yeah, okay… no, no I feel you. This dump was never designed for us. Let’s face it, we’re too badass to be here.”

For a moment you looked around. Confused as to who Eddie was talking to. Who the hell around here was cool besides him? Certainly not you.

“New game plan: let’s ditch class and go on an adventure. Just you and me.” He said.

“Okay but like… What’s there to do here?”

“Hawkins is our oyster. There’s a lot we could do. We could go cruising to the park, the lake, maybe find an old abandoned scary house and get chased by ghosts accompanied by a psychedelic synth number. The sky’s the limit. Anywhere’s more exciting than this hell hole.”

“… there’s a lake?”

You knew lakes. Liked them even. Abiquiu was a particular favorite. With the outcropping of mountains in caramel and umber surrounding the blue water…

“Yeah. Lover’s Lake. It’s quiet there on a school day. Especially now in the morning. Perfect for an adventure. You in?” Eddie asked.

“I wanna go!”

You sound like a damn kid. So eager. It’s just… no one’s ever invited you anywhere before like this. Plenty of your classmates back home ditched. One girl in your math class took off during a pizza party for the simple fact that she didn’t bring anything, and she’d just walked out of the room like nothing while you sat there at your desk gaping after her.

“Atta girl! We’d better be sneaky about it though. I don’t feel like catching hell from dirty old Higgs for commandeering you for a joyride.” He didn’t wait for you to put out your hand. He took yours in his, tugging at you to follow.

You laced your fingers with his, holding onto his arm as the both of you weaved through throngs of students, looking back every now and again to see if anyone noticed you were fleeing Hawkins High. For the most part students and faculty alike avoided Eddie like the plague if they saw him coming, and a stage five clinger like you wasn’t even a blip on their radar. Once you were both outside, the humid summer air punched you both in the face. By the time Eddie led you over to his van, parked all the way in the far corner of the lot, you were sweating and dying to get in it. The van itself was a bit beat up, but it ran, and that's all that mattered in the moment really.

"Here's our chariot. Hop on in, we're gonna have the best field trip of your life." Eddie said, attempting to move to pull the door open for you.

You did not hesitate for a single minute. Immediately once you approached his vehicle you tried the door handle. Just gave it a yank without even making sure the door was unlocked (it was) and hopped into the passenger’s side. He didn’t hesitate either, he just laughed loudly at you, making the engine sputter to life and peeling out of the lot the second he found the opportunity.

"Most girls I know would never just hop into a stranger's van like that. You're either fearless, oblivious, or just crazy," he laughed, rolling down the driver’s side window. “Did McGruff teach you nothing?”

“At this point I wouldn’t even care if you were Baron Harkonnen himself.” You said, buckling in. “I’d still go with you.”

"Well, princess, I promise you I'm nothing as sinister as Baron Harkonnen. Just a humble D&D dork with a bit of a wild side. Although, I do sometimes dabble in the melange trade." He winked at you as he turned the van out onto the road.

“Hold the phone… you… you actually know who the Baron is??” You must have looked incredulous.

No one had ever been familiar with your references to Dune, and here was Eddie just casually dropping lines about the Siridar-Baron and spice melange…

"Of course. Who doesn't know who Baron Vladimir Harkonnen is?" he replied casually, one hand steady on the steering wheel while the other fumbled for a cigarette in the pocket of his denim battle vest.

He must have done it a thousand times, you’d thought. Watching wide eyed as he lit his cigarette with one hand using a dented Zippo lighter.

"Dune's pretty much one of the major foundations for every science fiction world out there. It’s got everything. Space, politics, giant sandworms... What's not to love about it?"

“Yeah but…” You protested, unsure how to voice what you were thinking.

"But what? You seem surprised I know of Dune's existence," he said.

“I kind of am.” Alex admitted. “I never met no one who could keep up with my weirding ways…”

You had been buried deep in the desert sands of Arrakis ever since second grade, when your father had been tasked with reading you a bedtime story. That time you were so sick with pneumonia, the doctor told your parents that you had to miss more than seven days of school. You were inconsolable. You loved your second grade teacher Mrs. Viola so much, and you wanted to play with your best friend Jessica. Instead your parents kept you home and force fed you this disgusting bubblegum pink antibiotic that made you gag. Dad was home from a job luckily, it would be another month before he started hauling again. So instead of dealing with just your mom and brother, Dad was home and he’d decided to read to you from one of his old paperbacks he’d picked up at Waldenbooks while hauling in Dallas a few years prior.

The way Dad described the setting was magical. You loved the gentle intonations of his voice as he spoke aloud the dialogue of the Kwisatz Haderac: Paul Usul Muad’Dib Atreides, and the fearless women of the Bene Gesserit space witches had captivated you body and soul. Arrakis was your second home. Your escape from the world that did not understand you. You longed to learn to ride through burning sand dunes atop Shai-Hulud, to hold the Gom Jabbar with Alia Atreides as she killed the evil Baron Harkonnen, to drink the water of life with Lady Jessica and become the next Reverend Mother, the harbinger of an abomination. You even wanted to join Stilgar and Chani, feeling like a Fremen child yourself as you had been born and raised in the desert just as they were…

Four novels and eleven years later, on all levels except physical, you were still very much buried under the spice tinged sands of Dune, a blue tint evident in your eyes…

"I've read the first book and seen the David Lynch movie, I went with one of my friends." He smiled, glancing over at you briefly before returning to the road, taking a long pull on his cigarette before exhaling. “You’re not the only person in Hawkins who's been tainted by the Weirding Way. So I’ll be privy to any little Bene Gesserit mind tricks you try on me, princess.”

"You know, you're really different from anyone I've ever met before. I mean that in a good way."

It took you a second to remember that you were in Hawkins, Indiana, not on a desert planet or even a desert state. Instead you were laying back on a leather bench seat in the back of a green 1979 GMC Gaucho, smoking pot with a guy that looked exactly like Jason Newsted.

“I’m different?”

You seemed a little shocked at this. Almost offended. What? Was it not normal to get philosophical about prehistoric caveman fiction?

“That’s… that’s kinda cliche, don’t you think…?” You mumbled.

Eddie shrugged, his smirk turning into a lighthearted grin.

"Maybe it is cliche, but I meant it. You're not afraid to speak your mind, princess, even if it's about some fictional dude's wiener."

You couldn’t help the giggle that came out, covering your face.

“… I guess so…” You admitted bashfully. “I guess I just didn’t realize how many girls don’t talk about book characters like it’s some hot school gossip. I… I don’t really talk to a lot of girls, or really guys either… I… I don’t really have friends.”

"Hey… hey, princess."

His warm hand brushed against your bare shoulder, raising the goose flesh against your skin.

"You shouldn't say that. I'm sure there's plenty people who want to be your friend. You just... you need to find your people.”

“I guess but… I don’t know… I don’t… I don’t think there’s really anyone on earth, let alone here in Hawkins, who wants to be my friend.” You said this as if you couldn’t even imagine Eddie, for all his laughter at your antics and his cuddly nature, even wanted to be your friend.

The idea was laughable. There was no way he liked you like that. Maybe you were a fun time? Something silly to do on a Monday morning instead of school.

Eddie paused for a moment, his gaze unwavering.

"I'd be your friend." He said after a moment.

You tensed up. Gulping. Not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“Really?” You whispered.

"Yeah. You're smart, you're funny, and you've got a love for fantasy. Those are all… that’s badass, dude."

“Are you serious to me right now?”

Your voice was so small, so helpless. As if you couldn’t believe it.

Eddie's grip on your shoulder tightened gently. Red rimmed, watery brown eyes boring holes into yours.

"Yeah, really. I'm serious. I'd be honored to have a friend like you."

He gave you a soft, genuine smile with his laugh lines cutting deep, dimples creating divots in his cheeks. Even his eyes were smiling, crinkling at the corners.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well that’s real cool because I really like you and-…” You immediately slapped your hand over your mouth, a squeak erupting from the throat when you realized you had just admitted the quiet part out loud.

Eddie's smirk faded into a look of surprise as he heard the words come vomiting out of your mouth.

"Princess..."

He said your name softly, his eyes searching your face and taking in the flushed expression.

"You... you really like me?"

You didn’t look at him, just kept your mouth covered as you looked down shamefully. Slowly, you nodded your head yes.

“You know, princess… I like you too.”

“You do…?”

“Yeah, I do. I like you a lot.”

“… even if I’m the weird kid you just met…?”

“Especially because you’re the weird kid I just met.” He scooted closer to you, cocking his head to the side and getting in your space.

"You think you’re the only one in this van that does weird out there shit? We’re both weird. We’re both freaks. I don't care if you are a weird girl that talks about sand worms and prehistoric cock. I like it. I like you."

He cupped your face as he said this. Your hands hesitantly reached up, palms over his as you stroked his fingers. Every little sensation from the callouses to the jewelry he wore begged to be touched, your fingers ran along the grooves and ridges of his many rings, finding comfort in the shapes and the feel of the metal.

“… really warm…”

Eddie's breath hitched as he felt your hands on his, the sensation of fingers tracing the edges of his rings sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. He let out a low, soft laugh at your comment.

"Warm, huh? My rings?"

“Yeah…” you nodded. “People… people say that rings are cold but… yours… the metal is warm…”

You looked up at Eddie, and noticed something magical with his eyes: when the morning sun hit them just right, his iris glowed a warm amber, like cognac. And you could see all the beautiful little lines on his face, the eye bags, the early signs of crows feet in the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes darted down to his rosy lips, chapped and a little dry, but plump. Kissable lips.

Did he taste like cigarettes? Weed? Maybe minty, like toothpaste?

Slowly, your hands left Eddie’s and cupped his cheeks, and you found herself pressing your lips against his. Eager to find out. At first he stiffened, totally caught off guard by your movements. It took a second or two, but at last he began to reciprocate, immediately wrapping his arms around you and pressing you further into his chest.

This didn’t feel real. You couldn’t believe you were doing this… A moment ago you two were having the time of your lives. Nearly pissing yourselves with laughter, enjoying the bantering back and forth and being real friends.

His lips were chapped. Bitten in what might have been a bout of nervous habit, but… oh so warm…

His fingers tangled in your hair, a wet lathing at your bottom lip as his tongue gently stroked across your lower lip. Eddie was pulling desperately at you too, as if trying to get you to hop onto his lap, and you eagerly scrambled onto him. You frowned when you realized he was licking at your bottom lip sloppily, rapidly, as if he was an eager Saint Bernard looking for peanut butter.

“What are you doing…?” you asked.

Eddie blinked, pulled out of his momentary stupor by your question. He quickly tried to explain himself, a hint of guilt in his voice.

"Fuck... I didn't mean to! I just... I thought... I got caught up in the moment! Oh shit… Princess, I'm sorry-..."

“No like… what are you doing with your tongue?” You asked, genuinely confused.

"It's... I’m kissing you? Y’know, like, Frenching? You stick your tongue out and... and kind of…”

What the fuck was he talking about?

It took you a hot minute. A really hot minute to figure it out, and just before Eddie made like he was going to push you off him, you stopped him.

“Like wait no, hold on… is that… is that what they’re doing on tv…?” You asked softly.

Eddie nodded awkwardly. Unsure of what to say.

"Yeah... yeah, it is. When you kiss and... then you kinda slip the tongue. It's called... making out…"

“I mean I know what making out is but like… I didn’t know that’s what was happening… inside.” You said, feeling a little stupid as you too turned red.

"Are you telling me you've never kissed someone with tongue before?"

“… I’ve never kissed anyone in my life… let alone done that tongue thing.”

“Jesus H. Christ, you’re a fucking virgin!” Eddie laughed loudly and obnoxiously, as though reveling in the revelation of your awkward secret.

Now it was your turn to huff indignantly, only staying because Eddie had put his arms around you and held you in place.

“I’m sorr… sorry!” He wheezed. “I’m sorry! No… no that’s not funny.”

“Pinche mamon!” You hissed.

He shook his head, wiping a tear from his eye as he smiled at you gently. His hands began rubbing at your bare shoulders, enjoying the sight of you in your sleeveless linen summer dress.

"Would you like to try it again...?” He asked softly, “The tongue thing?"

You curled your soft legs around his thin waist, your Chuck Taylors pressing into the armrest of the leather bench seats of the van. His body responded automatically, intimates standing to attention in a single fluid contraction of throbbing hot flesh through denim… when you felt him get hard, how could you stay mad at him?

“Yeah… teach me, how do you do the tongue thing…?” you asked.

He gently pressed his forehead to yours, faces mere inches apart.

"Well, princess, it's pretty simple."

He paused for a moment, leaning in slightly closer to your face as he spoke in a soft, low voice.

"Gimme the Gene Simmons, like this..."

He slowly stuck his tongue out, the tip brushing against your lips. You giggled, mimicking him and laughing when his long tongue flicked against yours.

"That's right, princess. Just like that..."

“Then what?” You asked. Words were a bit garbled because your tongue was still lolled out.

"Well, princess, once our tongues are out, we... we kind of…”

He paused, his eyes locked on your lips before leaning in a little closer.

"Let them... explore each other..."

“O-oh…”

Eddie smiled at your quiet, accepting response.

"Don't worry, we'll go slow. We don’t have anywhere to be." He said, eyes never quite leaving your lips.

"I'm gonna kiss you now, okay?"

“Okay…”

"Close your eyes, princess."

You obediently closed them, lips parted slightly as you felt Eddie’s warm breath caress your face. He evidently decided he would skip the gentle pecks and go for the tongue thing, so you kept your mouth a little open this time.

"Good girl.” He whispered, leaning in towards you, “You keep your mouth just like that…”

It was then you realized that not only did he taste like the Camels he smoked, but like cheap beer, chocolate, and some kind of cereal you couldn’t quite place. All a myriad and fucked up mishmash of different flavors.

And you loved every minute of it.

[simpingforcreamsoda]

I think it would be really funny if everyone who’s made a pseudo intellectual post harassing or justifying hatred of Jocat stubbed their toes all at once. Like seriously it pisses me off so much seeing (hypothetical name definitely in relation to nobody) peewhirlpool on twitter go “um, he’s horny but pretending to be wholesome so people should be MAD AT HIM” like touch grass and grow the hell up. You’re malding because someone drew himself on SFW dates with women from a meme template. Because he made a parody video comedically showing off his fictional crushes. Breaking news fucko, sometimes people are attracted to women. Sometimes, just sometimes, people might want to fuck women. Some people have the desire to have sex with women. It’s so crazy how that works, isn’t it? It’s ok, you can come out of the blanket when it stops being scary! I wouldn’t want some widdle Internet funny man with a cute lil puppydog pfp to learn what a sex drive is! Check your arms for any boo-boos, because I fucking guarantee a song cover of Lizzo’s “Boys” and a panel drawing of two people dancing like in Beauty in the Beast didn’t melt your face off like the nazis in Indiana Jones.

Jumpscare! When I was in elementary school I had a crush on Blaze the Cat! Nah that was tame, wasn’t it? Ok here’s a good one— sometimes I’ll see women in real life and think “wow, she’s super pretty.” Sometimes I’ll even think “Wow, she’s hot.” Lock me in fuckin Alcatraz, pissvortex. Oopsie, said the barely hidden name because like be real who’s reading this besides my mutuals. It turns out when you don’t actually harm or harass people in real life, and respect them as human beings, you’re allowed to have feelings.

Not even sure why I’m so mad about this. Maybe I’m not even mad, maybe I’m just baffled. So many people going after some DND and Final Fantasy YouTuber and not only doxxing him off platforms, but trying to mask it by saying “he gives me the ick! I bet he looks at hentai” (believe it or not, you can look at hentai and it’s not a crime also, but clearly some people aren’t ready for that conversation). It’s not even that you’re making baseless assumptions and forcing what you think is sin on an individual who has not made anything nsfw in these things other than a reference to the couch meme at MOST, those assumptions don’t fucking matter! Like genuinely why do you CARE if Jocat likes women? He ain’t doing shit! You’re pissing yourselves over DRAWINGS! So yeah, washed up tumblr funny guys, and everyone else who participates in this bullshit, honestly just shut your fucking mouth. You jagoff.

Oh and yeah, I know some of you are doing this because Jocat is nonconforming to stereotypical masculinity. Maybe a lot of you. I hope next time you eat a tootsie-pop you cut the roof of your mouth on a crack in its outer layer.

am I missing something? Oh yeah, and then hammers fly everywhere, now it’s a a joke that’ll get me harassed by a site mod.