#patch 7 is... yeah

[can-a-tuna-fish]

Give him $25 and he will come home with a bag full of food that hasn’t seen the light of day since the early 90’s.

[escxelle]

you know i made this post and was thankful for larian for having a backbone and keeping true to the original narrative they wanted to go with without succumbing to the masses but seeing what they did with the ascended astarion kisses??? hello???

don't get me wrong, i am an astarion girlie (gn) but i am solely a spawn astarion girlie (gn). ascended astarion is just as bad as gortash, if not worse. you guys do know that it isn't hot to glamourise abuse right?? that abusers shouldn't be babygirled?? abuse shouldn't be sexualised, right!!!??? honestly i'm more disappointed at larian than anything "yeah we won't give gortash a romance with durge but we will romance an abuser who you're essentially a slave to <3" like what, are we meant to say thank you???

romancing ascended astarion is fine if you're playing an evil character for narrative/roleplay reasons or want to explore all sides of the game or even to explore an unhealthy, toxic and abusive relationship with the comfort of knowing that it's fiction and will never happen, it's your game and it is fictional so what you do with it is none of my business however to then go onto tiktok and twitter to tell larian that you want the romance between your pc and an abuser to be more romantic (even making mods to do that is fine because at least then you can get what you want and the rest of us can carry on with the original narrative larian wanted) but please be real: leave villains to be villains, let evil people be evil. ascended astarion will never love you because he is an evil manipulative abuser !!!!! wake up !!!

all of this and meanwhile they give wyll content that should have been there since release and it still doesn't even compare to the amount that astarion has (also idk if it's just me but half the time wyll's dialogue doesn't even have subtitles even though whoever he's talking to has subtitles above their heads just fine so idek what he says half of the time... great update bozos) i'm so tired, it's so frustrating

TLDR: yeah i've lost a lot of respect for larian, the fandom and even for astarion's character after patch 7, i won't lie

P.S. same as last time: if you're going to whine about astarion being fictional, please just block me. i'm not going to bark back and i will just delete your comments, i don't care for those half-assed excuses because if he is just fiction then why are you taking about it to a stranger on the internet? let me rant in peace

i saw an article the other day that had the headline along the lines of 'baldur's gate 3 fans are sad to hear that you there is no lord gortash romance plot' and i'm usually a very open-minded person but... maybe i will second guess the bg3 fans in question...

i was geniunely scared of him when i first had a conversation with him in act 3... he's a creepy, slimey, horrible, disgusting man and yes i know he's fictional but his whole presence just made me nervous, sick even. i can't see why anyone would like him let alone want to romance him...

he's a fantastic villain yes. his actor (idk who he is sorry - please tell me!!) did a wonderful performance, the way that he's written and the story-telling is insanely good but it's because of that excellent performance from the devs, the actor and writers that it just feels too real...

of course, if you're doing an evil playthrough then it makes sense to be nice to him and whatnot but do you really have to romance him too? :/ there was a reason why the game didn't come out with a gortash romance and there's a reason why the devs still aren't putting one in, maybe think about the reasons behind that other than "but he's hot" or something??

[mercymaker]

trying to make bg3 work for me today got me like

[exactlyspookykxala]

dare I say this patch is better than the entire penacony arc, for me at least. idk, it feels less dialogue-heavy than penacony. the characters are still using more words than they need to, but not to the point where i question if their throat is getting dry. except aglaea, I think 😭 but i think that part was intentional lmao. all in all, definitely left an impression, but a foreboding one.

[killjoy-prince]

did the sorter again but just with the characters introduced in this world

[albonium]

i put on a shit ton of make up for the 3rd time in 5 years everything has been opened for at least that amount of time, wish my skin luck

[san-sews-seams]

Lol, I could juuuust fit all of the heraldry patches on my large embroidery hoop (well, sans the second Luthien design), but when I went to run it it was too many stitches for my machine. (Apparently she maxes out at 120,000, and the 15 patches together is about 150,000.)

And considering the run time... I may just pass on testing all the digitzations until/unless I'm actually making them for someone.

Absurd.

[cool-person-yey]

I have recently discovered that I am a morning person I just hate having an alarm wake me up

[tessa-james-elliot]

All granted that Yeva is still alive, which is extremely questionable

Something just occurred to me about Murder Drones Ep7, and I may have figured out the premise of Ep8. Uzi destroyed the flash drive with the patch...

Which means the patch code only exists in one other place...

Yeva.

Yeva was the only drone who was successfully patched. Nothing in an animation is shown accidentally. This was the show telling us where the only remaining antidote is. N is going to have to find Yeva and figure out how to extract the patch code from her to save Uzi (and everyone else, but N has priorities).

[snekdood]

people always gotta lot to say about comic artists and about how they need to be "posting more frequently" but you sit them down and tell them to do the same shit and suddenly they're "unprepared", etc. 🙄 yknow this shit doesnt get shat out over night, right? find a hobby in the meantime while you wait, goddamn.

[invincibledc]

RACCOON!READER X PLATONIC!ROBINS AU BATBOYS HEADCANONS/IMAGINES

Damian has once took you to school with him. You had a hoodie with your tail wrapped around your waist. Imagine a 14 years old holding hands with a kid that looks no younger than at least 8-7, hissing at kids. Damian almost got caught til you hide in his bag.. which you oddly fit in well.

Jason who holds you like a newborn baby, you munch off the crackers with a wide smile. Jason felt his heart melt a lot, feeling his big brother instincts come in and tickle your chubby belly. You giggle with small little chirps and boy did Jason not let anyone hold you for hours.

Tim who got accused of looking up weird things, getting a lecture about his search history as Tim was bewildered and yells out “I didn’t search that!” “Then who did?” Bruce says as Tim looks around. That’s when he sees you upstairs grabbing the railings as a sneaky look riddles on your face. “You.” He mouths with anger as you run off. Jason had to take the blame so you wouldn’t be found.

Dick who does a small fashion show with you, making you dress in clothes you may like or not like despite Damian being the one who mostly gives you clothes. Dick rubs his cheek against your chubby one. “So cute!” He took multiple photos, getting all the angles as you stood there thinking about salty crackers. You did this for the crackers.

Tim and Damian educating you in their favorite cartoons, games, movies, and comic books. Your speech started to get a little better, only a little. But it’s worth it!

Dick and Jason teaching you how to cook incase one of them or all have to go on patrol and leave you. But when you burnt yourself, globs of tears falling off of your face, ears flatten. The two older brothers felt their heart crack and immediately banned you from cooking. Forget cooking, you get all the crackers and pizza you can dream off. Dick was about to cry at how you were crying as Jason patched up your hand.

The robins who play peek-a-boo with you, you have the mental capacity of a young toddler. So they’re glad you can at least be entertained easily.

At the Titans towers, The team is gushing at how you cling to the robin of the team. Robin smirks proudly as he shows you off as if you are simba. Praise the raccoon!

Jason who reads you bedtime stories, but shhh don’t tell the guys that he’s becoming soft around you.

Damian who has told Jon about you, Jon once seen you and wanted to pinch your chubby cheeks! As he flew at you at max speed with bright eyes, he got stopped by Damian’s glare and him holding out kryptonite. Yeah Jon had to hold back his cute aggression as he just pets you. Your fluffy raccoon tail wagging around with soft chirps.

You always climb onto Dick, always using your small nail like claws. Clawing him like a cat as dick yelps before he smiled despite the pain. At least you place your head onto his shoulder.

The robins love you dearly! How could they ever leave you back into the cruel streets of Gotham.

And the only people who don’t know is Bruce. Alfred has already known about you when you snuck last night into the kitchen to find tea and biscuits. It was a trap! You swore it was, but the tea was so lovely made by this elder guy who smiles at your new manners when eating.

[strnilolover]

⌗ . . . VOICEMAILS

WARNINGS : ANGST. SLIGHT CRYING. HURT NO COMFORT (?). PLOT TWIST (?).

it was a habit—the way matt would pick up his phone everyday and call you. even if you never responded to him, he was more than okay with that. he just liked having someone there to listen to him.

and really this week was no different.

START VOICEMAILS - remaining - *7*

*beep*

“hi!—sorry i can’t come to the phone right now, you know how life can get. but just leave a message and i’ll get back to ya! love you!”

*beep*

Monday - 3:12 pm

Voicemail #1 :

“hey sweetheart, i just left the grocery store and got your favorite cereal,” he pauses, laughing softly to himself. “i don’t know why you ever liked it, it didn’t even taste right, but..i don’t know why i keep buying it even though i know i’m never going to eat it. it’s a habit i guess,” he lets out a small sigh running his fingers through his hair. “maybe i just like pretending you’ll come around and steal the last bowl again..”

there’s silence on the line for a moment, matt’s breathing filtering in before he spoke again.

“call me when you get this, okay?”

Tuesday - 11:46 pm

voicemail #2 :

“i can’t sleep. the apartment’s been too quiet recently, more than normal. do you remember that creaky floorboard in our hallway? yeah? well i keep stepping on it by accident, and it freaks me out every time even though i know it’s there,” he laughs to himself, at just how silly he sounds saying that. “you used to tease me about it every time. pretty sure you even doubled over to the floor once after i screamed like a girl one night.”

suddenly he paused at the memory, he could feel his head starting to swim.

“miss hearing your voice. miss everything. call me when you can.”

Wednesday - 5:07 pm

voicemail #3 -

“work was fucking hell today. chris tried to prank me by messing with my camera settings again, and I nearly threw him out a window,” he paused, allowing himself to take a few deep breaths at the thought of his brother. he exhales before speaking, “you’d have loved it. you always said I needed to get better at standing up for myself, or really speaking my mind.”

he exhales a laugh, but it’s quiet.

“i’m sorry this isn’t as long..but, i stood up for myself today. thought you’d be proud—i love you and thank you.”

Thursday - 9:21 am

voicemail #4 -

“i saw a girl with your jacket today. the one with the patches and the paint on the sleeve—i thought it was you and almost ran after her.” he took a deep breath, sniffling. “though i stopped myself in my tracks. because really i shouldn’t be bothering with it”

there was a long pause. then, his voice came quieter than before.

“i wish i had really…just to see your face one more time, even if it wasn’t really you.”

Friday – 1:33 pm

voicemail #5 -

“It’s been… how long now?” he sighs quietly, feeling the way his face goes hot. “i stopped counting honestly..it doesn’t feel right. time doesn’t move the same when you’re not here. it’s like it got stuck on that day and never wanted to progress.”

a sniffle. silence for a few seconds, then a quick breath.

“anyway. i’m rambling again. i’ll call you tomorrow, okay? like always, i promise.”

Saturday – 6:45 PM

voicemail #6 -

“remember that little bookstore you loved? they’re closing down…I was able to though before hand and bought that poetry book you kept picking up but never brought yourself to buy. it’s sitting on your nightstand. still has the receipt in it.”

he breathes in like he’s trying not to cry—cause god—he really was trying to hold on for you.

a few small sobs and sniffles are caught on the microphone. “i’m scared I’m forgetting your voice.”

Sunday – 10:00 am

he doesn’t leave a voicemail today.

not at first anyways. he’s walking through the quiet apartment—his phone to his ear as he scans the walls of everything that was yours—before he then ends the call. and suddenly he’s standing in front of the shelf in the corner of the room when he shifts his gaze up from the floor.

the one lined with polaroids, bracelets, your favorite candle—

and

a ceramic urn with your name etched in soft gold.

and next to it—your phone still sits propped upright beside it. the screen’s dark and the battery’s long been dead. matt stares at it for a while, knowing just how many messages he’s sent to you since you’ve been gone.

slowly, matt presses the call button again, bringing his hand up to his ear as his other hand reaches out to trace the pictures of you and him—and leaves one more voicemail.

Sunday – 10:06 AM

voicemail #7 :

“hey, angel. i know you can’t answer these—I know that. i know that every time i pick up my phone and dial your name,” he sucks in a sharp breath, biting his teeth into his lower lip to stop the sobs from spilling past his lips. “i hope you’re happy up there..wherever you are. and happy 6 years my love—i can’t wait to have you in my arms again.”

another broken breath slipped from him. and a pause full of everything he never got to say to you—never got to marry you.

“but.. i’m gonna keep calling anyway. you don’t have to hear me to know i’m still here for you—it’s forever right? i promised you that.”

his voice cracks just a little—his walls about to crumble the longer he stays on the line. but he couldn’t help the cry that left him as he said the last few words he’d never get to hear from you again.

“i love you so much…and i’ll talk to you tomorrow baby.”

END VOICEMAILS - remaining -*0*

a/n : my version of the voicemails :)

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[all-with-angel]

Stress test // Superhero!Sukuna

➤ Superhero!Sukuna x Gearmaker!Reader

➤ Deadlines are nipping at your heels and you haven't found yourself a willing test subject for your projects. As your last Hail Mary, you waltz into the training area and borrow the first person you see; Not knowing who exactly you had just made your test subject. Not like it matters to you.

➤ gn!reader, Sukuna being sukuna, cocky Sukuna humbled by reader, both are 20+, light injury, sfw, NOT PROOFREAD and I couldve probably done a better job but wtv we die like gojo

You haven’t slept in thirty hours.

You haven’t eaten anything other than energy bars and instant coffee in fourteen, and the last time you took a break was when a rogue drone had exploded and knocked you out for 16 minutes. Those were a good 16 minutes.

You’d love to take a rest, sleep until the world exploded even, but deadlines were looming over your head like a death knell, red marker on your calendar telling you ‘You’re screwed.’

You had ideas- God, you had way too many ideas. Building them was one thing, but that was the easiest part really. You could do that in your sleep, and frankly, probably had once or twice. No, the problem was testing them.

You needed raw data. Field stress levels, user performance under duress, energy thresholds when pushed to their uppermost limit. Simulated tests could only go so far. The board wanted grit. They wanted the real deal. The kind that said, “Yes, this will absolutely survive a villain launching a bus at your face.” or “Yes, this will hold up against the strength of Infinity.” (Like that's even possible)

And you couldn’t give that. How could you? You didn’t have teams of testers like the more known gadget makers, no, you had yourself and A.I. test dummies that started flirting with you if they weren’t reset every other week.

You were a genius. But what good is a genius without results?

You put on your best unwrinkled lab coat, shoved your tablet under one arm, slapped a fresh stim patch onto your neck, and marched your overworked ass down to the training floors of the facility. Academy, as the higher ups would say, but it was anything but that really.

You didn’t learn much here other than that most of your coworkers were stupid.

Today’s plan? 

Find the strongest idiot. Throw gadgets at them. Hope for the best.

Yeah. 

Yeah, that sounded good. You really were a genius. Or sleep deprived. You couldn’t tell.

The facility, of course, was always active. Training rooms were booked 24/7 by heroes, cadets, and the occasional egomaniac. As you stepped into the third hall, the sound of explosions- actual explosions- echoed down the corridor, followed by some deeply maniacal laughter.

Sounds like the strongest idiot to me.

You took a step into the viewing area, peering into the highly reinforced glass and observed. There was smoke everywhere, but it quickly dispersed to reveal your maybe test subject.

He looked pretty familiar. HawkTuna-something?

He stood there in a scorched tank top, hands on his hips, surrounded by sparking debris. Pink hair and red eyes, face tattoos. He looked more like a gangster than a hero.

You jogged your memory, as fucked as it was- and remembered some news broadcasting about a Hero that had more than half of his fights end with a building or two collapsing. You snapped your fingers when you remembered, “The King”. That was his hero name.

You recalled it from an interview, where he refused to be called anything other than that. Right, so he was a cocky fucker. You could work with that. 

A few minutes later, you found yourself at a vending machine right outside the training hall, buying yourself your nth energy drink today. Just as you grabbed the can from the machine, the mechanical doors of the training room opened. Out came walking the King, steps heavy but not rushed.

You straightened your lab coat, holding your tablet to your chest and energy drink in the other as you walked up to him. “Uh, excuse me?” You smiled politely. Holy hell, he was bigger up close.

“What?” He clicked his tongue, red eyes narrowing at you. “You better make this quick. I have things to do.”

“Would it be alright if I borrowed you for a little while? You see I need test subje-”

“Not interested.” He huffed, shoving past you.

Okay, rude. You stumbled to the side, head whipping in his already departing direction. You mentally debated whether pursuing an already bitchy test subject was worth it, before realizing that both your job and education was on the line. You let out a huff of frustration before running after his retreating figure.

“Hey! Wait! Um- Tuna guy? Suzuki, was it?”

He stopped abruptly, leading you to bump into his back face first. He didn’t even budge. Instead, he turned around, a scowl that would leave any sane person shaking in their boots. 

Unfortunately, you were not sane. At least not right now.

“Sukuna. It’s Sukuna.” He hissed at you.

“Oh right, yeah, Sukuna. Anyway-” You took a few steps back, clearing your throat before continuing. “I need to put my projects under stress tests so I need-”

“Don’t they have simulations for that?” He was tapping his foot, crossing his arms as he looked down on you. 

Okay, this guy seriously had to stop interrupting you. “Well uh, those can only go so far. And the board wants actual real life testing,” You answered. “Could you come up to the lab with me and test some of them? It’ll be quick. I promise. I just need to get my reports done before my deadline.”

“Why should I care?”

“Sorry?”

“I said why should I care?” Sukuna repeated. “You’re some nobody asking me for a favor when I’m supposed to be getting dinner. Who do you think you are talking to the future number 1, huh?” He leaned forward, looming over you with a scowl.

“The future number 1 hero?” You mused, staring right back at him. “I highly doubt that.” It hurt your neck to crane your neck this high, but you kept your voice from wavering.

“Tsk. Do you not even know who I am? What I’m capable of, brat?” He clicked his tongue, voice lowering into a growl as he glared, crimson eyes inches away from yours. “I can destroy this facility and everyone in it in seconds.” 

“So?” You blinked.

You could see his eye twitch. “Do you have a death wish you-” His voice raised, almost yelling before you cut him off.

“Dude. Seriously, I can’t care less about what you can do.” You waved him off, “I only care if you can help me. Got it?” 

Sukuna, The King- The so-called prodigy with more potential as a villain than a hero, stood there, dumbstruck at your audacity. You could see the gears turn in his head, the veins starting to pop on his neck.

You sigh in faux defeat, slumping your shoulders. “Unless you’re too much of a pussy to test some measly little gadgets.” You shake your head, turning away from him. “It’s a shame really, the so-called future number 1, scared by some nobody's little inventions.”

“Do I look stupid to you?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not falling for your taunting.”

“Alright.” You shrug. “But you do sound,” You look him up and down, pointedly ignoring the imprint of his muscles the size of your waist. “-pretty weak to me.”

Sukuna stood there, glowering at you, a support course nerd he’d never even heard of. To be honest, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit curious at what you’ve got in store in that lab of yours if you’d really go this far to recruit him. His manager probably would be annoyed that he was late to their dinner meeting again, but what was that idiot gonna do anyway? Yell at him?

He clicks his tongue. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” You raise a brow, a small smirk tugging on your lips.

“Yeah, fine.” He snarled.

“Perfect!” You clapped your hands once, previous ‘disappointed’ demeanor melting away quickly. “Come, come. Follow me.”

You click the handcuffs into place. “Comfortable?”

“No.” Sukuna answered, flexing his hands under the cold steel of the cuffs.

“Good. They’re not supposed to be,” Nodding, you take a few steps back. “Now break out of them.” You look down to your tablet, tapping a few buttons to monitor the stress levels of the cuffs and see how quickly they might break. You two have been at this for a while now, most of the gadgets being destroyed or barely grazing the cocky hero- Who simply grew more arrogant with every failed test. “These are a pair of reinforced handcuffs, they should hold up quite well-”

The handcuffs explode into pieces, scraps of metal littering the floor and edges of the testing area. “Against some robber, maybe.” Sukuna drawled. “Is this it? Are you seriously gonna waste my time with barely put-together chunks of metal?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing the pair of handcuffs off the list and marking it for extra blast reinforcement and maybe power dampening qualities.

“Nope. Next.” You grabbed a gadget from your side table, raising it and aiming at Sukuna. The hero stares at you, the weapon and then back at you. Seemingly unimpressed. “A gun? Really?”

“It's a non-lethal firearm, just as impactful as rubber bullets but not as harmful.” You keep your aim steady, ready to fire.

“I’ve melted bullets in mid-air. Do you really think that would work?” 

“They’re high velocity, so we’ll find out.” You pull the trigger twice, but nothing hits Sukuna. Instead, two very small and unrecognizable puddles of the bullets are a few feet away from him.

“Well, well, well. Looks like your high velocity rounds aren’t much compared to me.” He scoffed.

This time, you felt your eye twitch. He really was starting to get on your nerves. “Yeah, guess so.” You lowered the gun to your side. “Could you get the next gadget? It’s behind you.”

“Tsk. Asking me to do your job now, huh?” Sukuna rolled his eyes, large frame turning around and inspecting the table behind him. Just enough time for him to lower his guard. You raised the gun again, firing at his back- This time, it hits.

“Fuck!” The hero exclaimed, lips pulled into a scowl as he whipped his entire body towards you. “The hell was that?!”

You hummed in satisfaction, finally setting down the gun and tapping your tablet to record the results. Success. “My finger must’ve slipped, sorry.”

“Like hell it did!”

“Did it hurt?” You smirked.

Sukuna felt a bruise forming on his back, the point of impact throbbing lightly on his back. “No. Of course not.”

“Noted.”

Sukuna growled at you, ready to lunge and rip you a new one before he remembered that if he did maul another of his coworkers, that he’d get suspended. Again. So instead, he huffed and crossed his arms. “Are we done yet? Or do you have more chaos to unleash?”

“Yep, just one more.” You tossed a grenade-shaped contraption up and down your hand. “Though, this one has healing properties. Should help with the pain.”

Sukuna eyed you suspiciously, checking if this was another trick. He didn’t find anything other than quiet amusement in your eyes and anticipation. You were clearly enjoying it with him as your test subject. When you noticed his distrustful glare, you reassured him with a smile. “Don’t worry, if something goes wrong, the agency has your medical bills covered.”

He rolled his eyes, like that made it any better. “So you're saying something can go wrong?”

You shrugged. “Anything could go wrong, really.” You traced your thumb on the metal of your little toy, finger hovering right on the detonation button- It should go off after 5 seconds after pressing it. “But trust me.”

“I don’t trust you.” Sukuna said, voice flat.

“Shame.” You pressed the button, tossing it at his feet and stepping backwards. He didn’t move though, even if he did raise a brow at your sudden withdrawal- It didn’t last long before the healing grenade exploded.

Green slime-like substance coated him and a good portion of the area, luckily nowhere near you. The substance from the grenade seemed to pulse and glow green, especially the chunks that were on and around Sukuna. You quickly noted that down.

Sukuna cringed at the sludge coating his body, he didn’t feel any better than he did 3 seconds ago, maybe even a little worse with how icky the green goo felt. “The hell?” He raised his hand, the slime connecting in strands to the rest of his torso. “Some healing grenade this is.”

You stayed quiet.

He clicked his tongue, glaring at you before looking to the door. “I’m done with this bullshit. Now I gotta take a shower before going anywhe-” Sukuna tried to take a step forward, only to be halted by the slime. He kept trying to pull at his limbs, each action taking more effort than the last as it became apparent that this was no ordinary healing grenade.

It hadn’t even passed any screenings yet. And this was still a work in progress, not an actual thing you had to test at the moment. It was one of your flukes, you knew that. Sukuna, did not. “Oh, right. About this one,” You picked up your tablet, voice painfully nonchalant as you act unaware of the struggle that Sukuna was going through. “I don’t exactly have a dissolvent for the healing cream, and it gets quite sticky.”

“Then what are you waiting for??”  Sukuna screeched, head snapping in your direction as any fire or explosion he tried to use was cancelled by the healing agent. Did you mention that it also doubles as a power-cancelling agent? No? Oops. “Get to work on it then!!”

You shrugged, turning your back to him and towards the exit “Alright.”

“Hey, HEY! Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” 

You turned around, motioning towards the testing area in shambles. “You don’t expect me to work in this mess, do you?” Voice level, like you were pointing out solid facts- trying your damn hardest to not let the smugness bleed into your tone.

“So, what? You're just gonna leave me here??” Sukuna sounded a mix of stunned, confused and angry.

“Thats the plan, yeah.” You start walking away, the door hissing as it automatically opened. “Don’t worry! It’ll probably melt off in an hour if I’m not done by then!” You give him a wave, smirking at him over your shoulder. 

“Probably?? You motherfu-”

He was spewing curses at you now, belittling you and trying his hardest to defend his last remaining drops of dignity. You simply smiled back, polite. “See you, Number one.”

Yeah, you weren’t going to work on that dissolvent.

(open!) tags: @idontwannatalkrn1

[agender-witchery]

I feel like every post that focuses on and celebrates the sexuality of transfems hyperfixates on gock and like. I get it, the majority of transfems are either pre-op or non-op, and yeah those people are so frequently excluded from even being allowed to celebrate sexuality and need representation because, hey, especially for the pre-op folks, that reassurance that you're desirable is needed. I should know, I used to be pre-op and I fucking hated it. I didn't get that reassurance when I needed it most, and I'm damned happy that people who do need it can get it now.

But now I'm post-op and like, what? I just get to feel even more excluded from that sort of celebration? It's mostly just all encompassing, like it is nearly the totality of what constitutes celebrating trans bodies, with a teeny tiny exception carved out for transmasc bodies which I am absolutely not qualified to have an opinion on, not even gonna try, and damn near nothing for post-op transfems.

The thing that gets me the most is porn. Sure, it contributes to the feeling of unwelcomeness that nearly every post that gets slapped across my dash is about The Gock, but I don't seek that out. I'm not out here looking for text posts about how cool gock is, I haven't had one for 7 years. But I seek out porn. And any time I see porn that depicts transfems, even when that porn isn't fetishizing transness, the thing that defines a transfem is her dick. Aside from literally one instance, I never see a girl with a scar on her abdomen, I never see a cross section of a pussy with no womb, I never see someone with two holes and an estrogen patch. It just isn't there.

And on one hand, it feels like I don't deserve to complain, that I'm lucky to have even gotten to have surgery, but on the other hand, fuck you! I get to complain about shit like this, I get to complain that the overall atmosphere of transfem sexuality necessarily including gock, I get to complain that this shit makes me feel like surgery was a mistake even though if I take a couple hours off social media and think hard about it, I don't have any real regrets, I get to complain that when transfem bodies are celebrated, that almost never seems to include my transfem body. I get to complain that trans representation doesn't represent me.

So fuck it. Neopussy Tuesday.

[voxmortuus]

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Dom!Benny Cross x Sub!F!Reader

⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Bikeriders

⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 3k

⇘ SUMMARY:⇙ Seems you've found yourself in a rather unique situation. You've known Benny for a long while, but you always felt a little out of his league, whatever league that may be, it just didn't feel like you were good enough for him. The thing is, you're just what he's looking for. You've got a lot of love to give, a heart on your sleeve, and a loyalty that is stronger than a dog. He wants you, but he wants you specifically. He wants you to be his old lady, he wants you to be his ride or die. Once he gets you alone though, the patches stay on, and things get a little far from vanilla.

⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Fluff | Language | Smoking | Smut | Some BDSMesque Scenes | Dom!Benny | Kissing | Face Smacking | Boot on Face | Hair Pulling | Fingering | Hand job | Oral (M) | Face fucking | Guided Masturbation | Benny Masturbating | Begging | Facial | These are in no particular order! PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…

⇘ NOTES:⇙ I hope this brings you some joy.

⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa

⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa

⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

Was it happenstance, or was it planned that he happened to show up today? Handing the beer over the counter, you lean against the bar, and you smile the sweetest smile you've got in you.

"Well shit, if it ain't Benny Cross. How long has it been?" You asked. Benny looked up at you as he walked in, giving you that same crooked grin he always walked around with. He gave a slight chuckle.

"Well, no shit. It's been, what, almost 7 years?" He asked you. You nod your head and chuckle a bit.

"Yeah, somethin' like that." you smirk and look down at the bar top.

It had been what feels like forever. It feels like you haven't seen him in ages, and truth be told, it had been ages. Seven whole ages, as a matter of fact. Smirking, he looks over you as he approaches the bar. Looking over his face, you smile, and a soft blush graces your cheeks, causing you to feel warm. Letting out a soft, shaky breath, you glance around, realizing that no one else was there in the bar, but you knew that wasn't going to last too long. How do you even say what you think you need to say. You groan, and you sigh and decide not to say anything.

As the night went on, the two of you mingled and caught up. He learned quite a bit about you, just as much as you learned about him. You learned quite a bit, and he learned just as much. However, you learned something that he didn't tell you either, he had always liked you. Well fuck. Upon closing up the bar, you look at him and shake your head.

"Benny, I've always had a thing for you. I always thought you were too good for me. Outta my fuckin league." you state honestly.

Benny stopped and stared at you. "Outta my league? No, no. I felt you were outta mine. Let me ask you this... you still want me?"

"I've always wanted you... that never changed, never after all these years." you admit.

He looks at you and runs his hand over his face. Nodding his head, he looks back toward the door. Looking back at you, he walks to the door and locks it. "Come here." he points to the ground in front of him.

Lifting a well-manicured and well-defined brow, you walk to him and stand in front of him. You look over that face, that handsome, perfectly chiseled face, and you lose yourself all over again. Why? Why, when you are around him, he makes you feel so... weak. He makes you feel so... dead-brained.

Walking to you, he sticks a finger under your chin and forces you to look up at him. A thought crosses his mind, an urge.

"I want you to prove to me how much you want me." He tells you, his voice drops an octave as he watches you.

"How do you want me to do that Benny? Just say the word and you got it." You state.

"Strip, then lay flat, face down on the floor." He states.

Okay, so that was NOT what you had expected. Blinking a few times, you don't hesitate, and you do just that. Stripping down, you fold your clothes and place them to the side, and you lower yourself to the floor. Biting your lower lip, you listen as he paces around you, observing you, taking in your figure, your heartbeat picks up in anticipation as you watch his boots come into view, and he stops and looks down at you.

Benny lights a cigarette and takes a long drag from it. Watching you as you lay there, he runs his free hand through his hair and then over his facial hair for a moment. Smirking, he takes a few steps closer to you and kneels down a moment, a hand dangling between his legs.

"So, you've gone this whole time not sayin anything. All because you felt I was out of your league... You know Darlin' if you had said anything, you may have learned a thing or two about how I felt. Maybe you need to be punished for that, huh? Teach you how to speak your mind? Make you beg for my attention now?" he stated.

Why did that make your cunt tingle? Make you hot? And why the fuck did that sound like such a good idea coming from him? You nod softly.

"No, I want you to say it." He stated firmly as he took a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke bellow above him as he exhaled.

"Yes. Punish me, teach me to speak my mind... make me... beg." You state. Your eyes look at his boots, and your fingers press into the floor as they are stretched out to your sides.

Standing up, he looks ahead of him, out the window of the bar, and smirks. He leans against the pool table, thinking of ways to punish you. Looking at your figure as you are sprawled out against the floor, so many things come to mind.

Standing back up from leaning, he pushes himself from the pool table and walks to you. He places his right boot on the side of your head. Not stepping, but applying just enough pressure for it to feel -- oddly comfortable. Your fingers press into the floor as you gasp. Why are you feeling this right now? Feeling these... feelings push through your thoughts. You bite your lip, and you let out a slow breath.

"Now, I've been thinking, since walking into this place, since we started talking, reminiscing about the past. I have been thinking about how things could go. About how we could have been together this whole time. But now, now I see the kind of girl you really are. I won't lie, Darlin'... kinda revs me up a bit. Eager to please." he mused a moment.

Looking down at you, he tilts his head, a sight for sore eyes, and fuck did he enjoy the view. Licking his lips, he took another drag from his smoke before he reached over to a close by table and tapped the ashes into an ashtray he had. With your head under his boot, he looks over the rest of your body. Leaning over with a smoke between his lips, his fingers run down the length of your spine. Feeling your flesh under his fingers.

"Soft to the touch." he pointed out.

Standing back up, he moved away from you, leaving you to bite your lip and almost ask for more. But instead, he reached down, grabbed your hair, and moved you to a standing position. You guided yourself with ease, and there was this deeper part of you that also enjoyed that. "What is wrong with me?" you asked yourself.

Moving you to sit in a chair, he spreads your legs apart. Looking over you, he licks his lips.

"Hands on your thighs, don't move them." He demands.

You nod in agreement. He wasn't going to demand the 'Sir' word just yet, but holy fuck was he going to enjoy it when it happened.

"Now I'm going to ask you a question, either say yes or say no. It's that simple. Got it?"

"Yes. I understand."

"Good. I'm going to hurt you, but it's not because I want to hurt you, it's because well... I want to see you in a different light, and because I enjoy it. Do you consent?" he looks over your face.

Taking a moment to understand, you've read some raunchy trashy books, so you knew not to compare the two, you weren't that naïve. You draw in a breath and you nod. "Yes. I consent." you finally state.

With a smirk across his lips, he nods. "Good girl. So long I've wanted to do this to you." He stated as he put his smoke out.

Walking behind the bar, he went to wash his hands, took a swig off a whiskey bottle, and made his way back toward you. Standing in front of you, he tilts his head. With a firm hand, he looks at you and throws it across your face. At first, you gasp, you close your eyes, your head whipped to the side. You whimper, not sure how to feel about it. You look to the ground, but he takes your chin and forces you to look back at him, and he smiles. Giving you a wink, and that's when you feel this sense of calm wash over you. It's like this switch was flipped in your mind. Submissive mode on... more so than before.

You didn't dislike the feeling on your skin, a hot sting. He brought his hand back, and it met your face again. Quickly moving to grab your chin, he leaned in and kissed your lips softly.

"Atta girl." he praised.

You felt this bubble of excitement rise inside you. It was this rush that moved through your veins like a hot liquid. Bubbling at the surface, wanting more.

"More, please." You ask.

He was happy to oblige. A little harder, be clipped your lip, but you didn't mind. The coppery taste on your tongue was sort of pleasant, a welcomed gift. You smile looking up at him. He looked at you, almost worried, but yet oddly calm. He smirked, leaning in he kissed you again, nipping at your now swollen lip. You feel your lower lips clench and quiver with want. Your breath was shaky against his lips.

His hand moves down your torso, moving to grip a breast before his hand moves down your apex right to your core. Your breath, staggered, your heart, pounding, your mind, stupid. You clench your lower walls and bite your lip, watching him, feeling him, desiring and needing him. You whimper. His fingers hover, and the heat from his flesh kisses your warm, swollen, needy bud.

When he finally brings his fingers to touch you, you gasp. You lock eyes with him, studying his baby blues as he begins to work your little swollen bundle of nerves. His free hand moves to jerk your head back by pulling your hair, as he hovers over you. His legs pressed against yours spreading your legs further as he worked you, exposing you to the pool table behind him.

But it was when he slid his fingers into you that your mind went more stupid. You let out a heavy moan as your eyes flutter, feeling his fingers work you. Leaning back in the chair, you let him take complete control, as he desired, and your body was no longer your own, and you were far from upset with that idea.

His fingers were like magic, but suddenly that all came to a stop. He looks at you, holding his fingers up as he looks at you. Bringing them to his lips he placed them in his mouth and smirked.

"Finger lickin good... Now... show me what you do with that pussy of yours when you think of me, because let's face it, Darlin, with all you've admitted, I know you've thought about me." He smirked as he moved back to lean against the pool table.

Looking at you he watches intently. Your hand moves to your bud as you slowly begin to work yourself. You watch him, intently, watching how he moves, how he breathes, how his lips curl with that crooked grin of his. You begin to remember how his lips tasted, how they felt against yours, how his fingers felt playing with you. You whimper as you bring your other hand up to grip your breast. Your breathing becomes heavy and you watch as the front of his pants grow tight.

Biting your lip you tasted the blood but your focus was on him.

"Atta girl, slow down, not too fast." he guides.

He readjusts against the pool table as he undoes his pants, freeing himself, he begins to stroke himself slowly. You slow down a bit, your toes curl against the floor as your legs spread even wider giving him a full view as you scoot forward a bit and expose your whole self even more.

"Just like that, keep going. What crosses your mind when you think of me?" he asked you.

Letting out a whimper you look over him as he strokes himself right in front of you. Dear fuck, his cock is god damned perfect.

"What you would feel like inside me." You state honestly with a soft whimper.

"What I'd feel like inside you huh? Well, maybe if you're a good girl, you'll find out." He mused as he moved his hand a little quicker against his cock. "Pick up a little speed." He demanded.

Without a shadow of hesitation, your fingers begin to work yourself quicker. You moan a little louder. His hand works himself faster, a little harder. He grunts, you whimper. It's a tandem of back and forth, a perfect give and take.

It feels like a lifetime, but a lifetime you'd never give back. He sees how wet you are, how you're beginning to drip off the edge of the chair. He snarls and walks to you, taking you by your hair he guides you to the floor and slips his cock between your lips, pressing to the back of your throat. He lets out a heavy groan.

Like a good girl, you take all of his cock, your tongue swirling around as he uses you like a little sex doll, fucking your face. He pulls you back, strings of spit from your mouth to his cock still connected as he slaps you across the face and shoves his cock down your throat again. Your eyes water and your breathing through your nose becomes heavy, and he does it again. Pulls you from his cock, slaps your face and brings your mouth back to his cock, and proceeds to fuck your throat and mouth, his grip on your hair tight it pulls at your scalp. Your moans and whimpers echo and vibrate through him and you as he uses your head to pleasure himself.

"Finger yourself." He snarls

You begin to do just that, your fingers working yourself as your mouth is being used. He smirks looking down at you before he's had enough of using your face he throws you back onto the floor and stands over you.

"Keep going." He demands.

And you do, you don't question him.

"Yes Sir." You state. Again, no question.

He's officially lost all control, at this point you both have. He works his cock faster, and you're watching every bit of it while you're moaning loudly just slightly below him as you work your bud, driving your fingers as deep as you can, feeling your wetness. You want to finish, you're right there, you almost cannot contain that hot explosion between your legs.

"No girl, you gotta beg for that finish." He states.

"Please, please let me cum" You plead.

He shakes his head. "Not yet... keep going... faster." He demands.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you work yourself faster, you arch slightly your toes curled under you. You're rocking back and forth your hips buckle.

"Please... please Sir... I want to cum. Can I please. Please." You beg.

He looks down at you as he works his cock, and he feels his own eruption on the rise. He looks down at you and smirks.

"Open up." He states.

Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and you begin to taste those hot wet ribbons as he releases against your tongue, and over your face.

"Come on... Cum for me." He growls as he continues his facial finish.

You let out a heavy moan, a loud breathy gasp as your body begins to tremble. His cock tapped against your tongue as if saying he was finished with his finish. He watches you shake, almost a pleasure convulsion. You begin to giggle, swallowing what was in your mouth, and cleaning up your face. Licking it from your fingers.

"Thank you." you muse.

He looks over you and smiles. "No, thank you." he chuckles as he puts himself away.

Moving toward you, he scoops you up places you on the pool table, and looks over your face. He moves a moment and grabs a bottle of water from the bar fridge, and a clean, rag, getting it cool, he moves back toward you. Wiping your face, and neck, he starts to wipe you off and smiles handing you the water bottle.

"So I have a question." He states.

"Yes Sir?" you ask.

"How about you be my Old Lady... my ride or die... my one and only. My little pet... my little pain slut... my girl." He asked you looking over your face.

You look up at him, and this sense of perfection washes over you as you lean forward and kiss him sweetly. "I've waited a long time for that..."

"So is that a yes?" he asks with a smirk.

Nodding your head you chuckle place your arms around him and pull him in for another kiss. "That's a Yes." you whisper against his lips.

Smirking he presses his lips against yours and wraps his arms around you. Holding you tightly against him he leans back and looks over your face.

"Now, how about I take you back to my place, and show you how I feel inside you..." he smirked.

Nodding your head you chuckle. "Yes please, Sir." you whisper against his lips.

He kisses you again, and helps you get dressed before he takes you to his bike, hands you a helmet, and takes off in the direction of his place.

Everything that happened today, it felt like a dream, but this dream was one you'd remember. Only it wasn't a dream. This was real, and you were about to unlock a new chapter in your life.