#this isn't even just about five what the fuck is wrong with the authors

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

oh hey, forgot about nine celebrating that five wanted to die, tried to kill himself in front of him, and almost succeeded 🙃🙃🙃🙃

[inkskinned]

you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.

bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.

this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?

so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."

you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.

you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.

but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.

quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.

you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.

you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?

[icallhimjoey]

Lost & Found

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader    

Summary: You take a little break, a week away to somewhere warm to relax and calm your senses. So does Joe – same flight, same hotel, same travel plans and, worst of all, same suitcase. What was meant to be a lovely trip to the sun starts off on the wrong foot when you find expensive designer outfits belonging to a man in what you thought was your suitcase.    

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, lots of swearing, we get a little spicy but nothing too bad, 18+ just in case though!    

Author’s note: we're going at a much slower pace for this one, apologies for the longer wait!    

Wordcount: 2.9K  

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Not looking him in the eye, tension left your body as you snorted at the strange compliment you got.

“Looks better on you, anyway,”

He could probably tell your heart was beating a million miles a minute, the compliment clearly a joke meant to take the edge off. Which it did, so, that worked out fine.

But then tension built back up when you both started walking in the same direction, back the same way you came to get a taxi. When it dawned on you that you were both going to be headed back to the same hotel, the possibility of sharing a taxi stared at you right in the face.

Fuck.

You immediately started looking for excuses to play for time. A toilet. A souvenir shop. A phone call to distract you enough to stop walking. Anything.

Coffee shop.

Perfect.

You stopped walking and queued up, but then, so did he. Got in line right behind you.

You turned and gave an awkward smile. He returned it and then, there was silence. You just... stood there, next to your suitcases, until it was your turn.

The longer neither of you said anything, the more excruciating it became. Every second that passed made you think the same thought more pressingly: say something, say something, say something.

But... say what, exactly?

You’d already said more to each other than was normal for two strangers, hadn’t you?

You glanced behind you again as you felt your neck was still hot, probably all red, and immediately made eye-contact with him.

“So, this isn't– this is not awkward at all,” you said, huffing a nervous laugh through your nose.

He copied it and went, “Yea,” and was about to say more, was about to instinctually reach out a hand to touch your shoulder, maybe. To touch the fabric of his own T-shirt. But you were next in line and were asked for your order, and then got handed it quite quickly, making you scurry off with it immediately because the thought of waiting for a taxi together was awful and oh my God, you could not share a taxi with him. You needed to be in one by yourself before he was even out of the building because how else were you going to call your friend and tell her everything?!

Plonking down in a taxi with your coffee had you biting your nails, or what was left of those anyway, until it actually pulled up onto the road.

You sighed a breath of relief when you left the airport in your own taxi. Safe, just you in the backseat joined by the friend that you called.

"Bitch, guess what the fuck just happened?"

The nail-biting had been for no good reason. Joe'd been just as adamant about not sharing a taxi when he too realised that you'd be giving taxi drivers the same address to go to. He had hung back with his drink until he'd seen you drive off from behind the glass of the large windows that adorned the full scope of the building. Then, he had a cigarette outside just to extend the time. The space. He'd honestly just wanted a coffee and didn't get into the queue behind you to be a creep, although, he'd mentally admitted to the mistake when he'd seen you awkwardly look at him.

Best to create some distance now to not make things any weirder than they already were.

He'd seen how deep you blushed.

Thought it was all cute, but, understood you probably didn't feel all cute.

On the way back, you told your friend what had just transpired which amused her greatly.

"So he's good looking and rich?"

"I'm afraid so."

It was honestly so unfortunate.

"And staying at the same hotel?"

"I literally died. I'm dead. I am speaking to you from the afterlife."

Dramatic, sure, but it was truly how you felt.

"Oh my God, wait, I need to write all of this down for my speech,"

"Your speech?"

"For when you two get married," your friend found all of it a lot more amusing than you did. The bitch.

"Pff, piss off, my God. It was the most embarrassing thing ever," you complained.

"Well, did you survive it?" she asked pointedly.

"Ugh, stop, keep the voice of reason to yourself, I don't need it,"

She ignored you and answered her own question. "You've survived it fine, get over yourself and actually relax, will you?"

You didn't need reminding. When your boss gave you a weird stare last week and then said that you looked like you were dying, like, actively decaying, you confessed that the stress of, well, everything was really starting to get to you.

You'd been piling responsibilities on top of more responsibilities and the whole thing had become one big unsturdy mess that had started keeping you up at night.

It had started with innocent nail biting, had progressed into waking up at weird hours of the night, unable to get back to sleep and, eventually, nightmares and weird night terrors had crept in. Kept you from getting any sleep at all.

You'd gotten used to passing out from sheer exhaustion around 4 AM, sometimes 5, and then your alarm would pull you from your slumber a mere two hours later. Two and a half if you were lucky.

You'd been sent on this trip to do some mandatory relaxing. Your boss needed you back fresh-faced and well-rested next week. Something something big client, major meetings, important presentation et cetera, et cetera.

"Did you end up getting some actual sleep last night? Hotel bed okay?"

"Yea fine actually, but that was mostly thanks to the three tequila sunrises I poured into myself last night – my nails are practically gone,"

Stress.

"Have an early lunch, get drunk, have a cheeky nap,"

"Yes ma'am,"

"Seriously though, I can't believe how fucking lucky you are, just, fucked off abroad to laze by a pool, boss's orders. Meanwhile I'm stuck here in this horrid fluorescent office lighting and, you know what, I think blue light glasses are a right scam, they don't fucking do anything at all,"

"Hey." you interrupted, "Have an early lunch. Get drunk. Have a cheeky nap."

"Yea, thanks," Sarcasm. "Feel how hard you're frowning right now? How clenched your jaw is? How high your shoulders are?"

Okay, time to hang up. You were keeping your friend from doing her job and her shoving your currently situation into your face wasn't actually helping.

Back at the hotel, you opened your suitcase with your code and only realised then that the good looking rich guy hadn't even been able to open it. You'd gone through every single item in his, knew what he underwear looked like, and he'd been stuck in his room with your locked one.

Unfair, but, in your favour, so fine.

There was a little trickle of guilt, but that was easy to ignore as you unpacked and changed into something more weather-appropriate.

When you dropped the black T-shirt off at the front desk, it took too long for you to explain what you were doing and what you wanted them to do. You kept hesitating on sharing more information, kept adding little bits, until you basically told them the full story.

"Can you hold onto this? Someone will pick it up later– it's, this is his T-shirt. I borrowed it, but he wants it back. Obviously. But I don't know– I don't know when he'll pick it up. I just had his suitcase for a little bit. I've got my own now. We– they got switched, so, this isn't mine. He said to leave it here so..."

Confused narrow eyes stared at you as they hesitantly took the black T-shirt from you. "Do you perhaps have a name, or a room number?"

"No, um... no, I don't– wait, yes, I do, or... I think I do. Do you have a guest here with the name J–"

"Hey,"

There he was. Polite smile and all.

"Oh, that's him," you pointed, glad to end whatever this dumb interaction was.

"That's mine. Thanks." Joe took his own T-shirt, giving you another smile – definitely awkward still – before heading towards the lifts.

Good.

You were going to sit out by the pool, which was the other way. You hoped that he'd be busy enough with work meetings, conference calls, and whatever else people on business trips got up to that you wouldn't have to run into him again.

Except then you did.

Because of course you did.

You'd followed your friend's advice and had gone for a nap at 4 in the afternoon. It was a struggle to actually fall asleep, and perhaps you should've gotten a small coffee at the airport instead of a large one, but you'd gotten a good hour and a half in. You'd woken up all kinds of disoriented and groggy, and had silently debated getting room service for dinner instead of going down to make your reservation at the restaurant. After going back and forth between staying in bed or getting out, you'd decided to get out for fear of not being able to get to sleep later.

You'd gotten ready, decided that a strappy dress would do, and double checked if you had your hotel room key before closing the door behind you and making your way over to the lifts.

It took ages for a lift to get to you, and then when one finally did, you pressed the button for the ground floor, but the lift slowed just as quickly as it started going.

Ninth floor.

Doors opened.

Him.

Wearing the fucking jacket you'd worn to the rooftop bar the night before.

Should've gone with room service.

"Hi," he said on the back-end of an amusing chuckle. You pursed your lips together in a small smile as a response.

Cool.

You were going to be in a lift together for half a minute. Very fun that every single surface inside of the lift was mirrored, your reflection inescapable.

And he was wearing the fucking burgundy jacket.

This was going to be your trip, wasn't it? This was what it was going to be like the whole time. Constant reminders of your stupid cringeworthy choices from that first evening and maybe you could just go drown yourself in the ocean later. Just for funsies.

The hum of the lift as it picked up speed wasn't enough to fill the silence.

The deafening silence.

"Nice jacket,"

As you counted down the floors, you though you might as well just lean into it now. Into this whole bit. Acknowledge the elephant in the room and make yourself feel lighter about it.

"Thanks. Nice dress."

"Thanks."

Just a few more floors.

"I wouldn't have been able to pull that off,"

You looked at him in the mirrored surface in front of you before you turned your head to look at him from the side. Was that... was that a double entendre?

No.

Could be though.

Was the rich good looking business man flirting?

Maybe.

The potential lay in wait.

"Mhm..." you mused, confidence growing when you saw he was trying to repress a grin. "I think you're selling yourself short, Joe," 

You revealed you knew his name. Thought you knew his name, anyway. His face dropped, just for a second. It could've been a reaction to the lift stopping with a slight jolt as it reached the lobby.

"I feel like you've got the legs to make this work." you joked, but didn't get a laugh in response. Just a tightlipped sort of barely there little smile. The polite kind.

Doors opened and you left whatever that moment was behind as you stepped out.

Food.

It took Joe a second to gather himself, to silently scold himself for needing to get used to this already. Be appreciative of it whilst he was at it. People knowing him ultimately was a good thing, something he'd worked so hard for and had wanted for so long. He couldn't let the bitter aftertaste it left him with affect him so much.

He was fine.

So, you knew who he was? Big deal. Lots of people knew who he was.

He was fine.

Except, he wasn't fine.

He wasn't fine as he sat through his dinner at his table for one, tucked away in one of the corners of the restaurant with perfect view of you.

Perfect view of you sinking teeth into your starter, main and dessert.

Perfect view of fingers wrapping around glassware of every drink you had.

Of the flirting the waiter seemed to entertain you with, getting warm smiles and sometimes cute giggles in return.

Of how you filled the quiet with your phone that was laid down face up next to your plate, just using a middle finger to swipe and tap at the screen.

Of how you declined a coffee and told the waiter you were going to go upstairs for a drink, smiling as you pointed a small finger up.

Of how your body swayed as you walked away in a dress that looked great, but you know what looked better?

You know when you'd looked better to him?

Joe wasn't allowing himself to think it.

He thought it, but didn't let his inner monologue sound the words out.

Joe had watched you all throughout dinner and then, after finishing his own meal, had followed you upstairs and then watched you as you sat at the bar with a cocktail.

He watched as you buried yourself into your phone even more.

Watched as you ordered another drink with a charming smile that told him you were probably not going to have to pay for any of the drinks you were getting.

Watched as your leg started bouncing.

Watched as you used a hand to rub at your arm, picking up then that the breeze he felt was getting colder.

Watched as your shoulders hunched up more, full attention with your phone still.

What were you even doing on that phone? Work? In a place like this?

Well, sort of.

You were working through e-mails. Slowly. Very slowly. You'd get distracted by Instagram and group chats. Tidied your gallery a little. Added whatever you wanted to the notes app: little to do lists, silly thoughts, creative ideas, things you couldn't forget to do before you'd go back home – like, "get a manicure" and then right below that, "mani pedi if possible".

You felt how the alcohol started warming your blood a little, and it had been enough to keep you warm until suddenly, it wasn't anymore. Temperatures dropped fast at night, and when you'd ordered your third cocktail, you contemplated maybe also getting a warm drink.

You shivered and checked the time.

You could also not order a fourth drink and maybe ask if you could take this one back to your room. Have a hot bath and drink it there.

Before deciding on anything, you typed, "get a jacket" in your notes app, and then added "or get the one long sleeved thing you wore cleaned". It was stupid how making lists like this made you feel productive. Calmed your nerves almost instantly. You looked at your finger nails and realised you hadn't bitten at any of them since that morning.

"Hi, can I just ask– is it okay for me to take this back to my room?"

As an answer, the bartender reached and held up a plastic cup before looking at you questioningly. Did you want whatever was in front of you poured into a to-go cup?

Before you could answer, you jolted a little at a sudden touch to your body from behind.

Fabric.

A jacket got draped over your shoulders.

Burgundy.

You took a shaky breath of cold air, ribs tightening around your lungs.

You recognised the scent before you did anything else which made you bite your lips into your mouth in an attempt to ignore that thought completely.

You turned to look.

Nobody.

Other side.

Joe.

Joe smiled, already walking away from you, back towards the lifts. All polite and warm and charming. Rich business man smile. Ugh.

Before he got out of earshot, you managed to ask, "Do I leave this at the front desk again?"

"Sure," Joe shrugged one shoulder, triggering the glass sliding doors in front of him. "Or drop it off at room 907, either one's fine."

Was there any point in trying to hide your smile?

"907. Got it. Thank you."

With a last glance that lasted just a fraction of a second too long, Joe headed inside and you turned back to the bartender who was still waiting for an answer.

"Um," you frowned, shook your head and closed your eyes a second to think.

"Did you want your drink to go, ma'am?" 

"No, thank you." you moved to slide your arms into the sleeves of Joe's jacket.

"I'll have it here."

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

[lucystark12]

how to convince the ga that byler isn't rushed (kind of just a rant about lettergate)

they need to and i mean NEED to vecna mike because the only way the ga will understand that byler has been built up since the beginning is if we’re given scenes in context. we as bylers obviously get it but byler is at risk of being labeled “too rushed” if they don’t put effort into referencing the important parts of mike’s feelings developing.

the audience doesn't really have a problem with believing that will is gay and in love with mike because there are things in his arc that are just obvious and clearly point to that.

but mike on the other hand is in the middle of a love triangle. unlike most of the other main characters, mike isn't open about his feelings. we don't get his internal monologue. he doesn't tell others how he's feeling. thats why its so easy for bylers and milevens alike to interpret his every move in either direction. it's purely because we don't know. so, in season five, there are things they have to address and give concrete meaning to so that people understand how byler actually does make sense.

the most important scene that i’ve already kinda talked about to do this is...

this one, obviously, the most important little part of all of byler's season three. i want vecna talking about this. i want mike thinking about this. it’s crucial. it’s essential. his behavior here is weird as hell! it even reads weirdly in a script that was released and then edited quickly after. it's important and it needs to be addressed and treated as such. in the script (forgive me if i'm off, i don't have a copy of it so this is from memory) it reads as "what's wrong with me?" that obviously points our way, but since we don't get his internal monologue there's no way to be sure. it needs to be addressed.

this is also kinda lettergate proof because i think the unsent letters and the fact that mike did try to call will also be essential to proving what was going on with him during the gap between season three and four. if i were in charge of the show, i would do a whole flashback sequence to these six months. i want to know exactly where he is, what he’s doing, what he's thinking, how the people around him are reacting to his behavior. we need a shot of the love, mike. it's SO IMPORTANT.

literally i could scream about how important (and likely) lettergate is.

one thing that REALLY scares me about lettergate is the possibility of them reddieying us. yes that is now a verb. for any of you who never had an it 2017 phase, reddieying is where richie and eddie, two characters, had feelings for each other but never admitted it. at the end of the movie after eddie dies, we get this scene:

this is what i like to call reddieying. and yes that is also finn wolfhard. this is why we are scared.

the letters could be used in a VERY similar way if either mike or will dies to express the love that they both once had for each other. closure of sorts. i think that would be VERY poor writing (we've all heard my theory about how mike's love for will is literally essential to the ending of the show) but i think it's highly possible especially given the overlap between it and stranger thing's fandoms. the letters could be read at the end in a similar way to the way hopper's was, sad heroes and all. this draws another parallel.

yes i am bringing newtmas into this. fuck you.

above is a letter written by newt from the maze runner to thomas. newt is confirmed gay by the author of the book, and this letter is written to thomas but never read by him until newt dies. letterboxd reviews of this movie read:

"that letter at the end was the gayest thing I’ve ever witnessed and I’ve seen call me by your name."

"homophobia is thomas reading newt’s declaration of love and the shot cutting to thomas scratching his ex’s name into the rock ABOVE newt’s"

"newt, to thomas: "and i remember you. [...] i knew i would follow you anywhere. and i have." me: *im ready to be queerbaited again meme*"

and i didn't even have to search for these. these were like the top couple reviews of the movie. they were all on the first page of reviews.

all i'm saying is, by having the letter be an idea in our minds, they've set up a way to kill off one of the characters and still have a slightly resolved, weirdly up to interpretation ending. i do still think it's poor writing. i could kind of go into that too if anybody is interested.

i think that if lettergate is used as a device during mike's flashbacks to show how long he's felt this way that they will be using this thing they've set up for good, however, if they newtmas us and reddie us i might die. just letting you know.

[myfandomrealitea]

I really wanted to ask you about this:

Do you have any advice of how to develop critical thinking and media literacy?

There are many, many ways you can practice critical thinking, evaluation and media literacy. At its most basic, you can access student resources for lower levels of education like earlier high school years and look at the examples and guidance given there. Rehashing this will often give you a good foundation to build off of and apply.

One of the main aspects of critical thinking involves discerning what is fact and what is opinion. A good portion of media analytics is opinion. What is 'bad' by one person's standards is 'sub-par' or even 'great' by another's. Similarly, the majority of fandom space is opinion-based. The main pitfall of fandom spaces is that everyone wants their opinion to be taken as fact, which is where critical thinking and even basic communication begin to fall away.

"I'm right and you're wrong" and "this is the way it should be, if you do it or think differently, you're wrong" are common roadblocks people run into when engaging with things like media analysis and even basic fandom activities like fanfiction.

'Mischaracterisation' is fanfiction is one popular topic, especially here on Tumblr. What people often fail to recognize is the true creative depth of fanfiction and using someone else's pre-existing characters. Characters as they are in the source material may not make the choices or behave in the ways necessary to activate or validate certain plot material or author intentions in fanfiction. Which is, inherently, one of the main points of fanfiction. Exploring the alternate.

While you might immediately recoil and say "he'd never do that!" you then have to sit back and recognise that that's exactly the point. That this iteration of that character is not meant to directly reflect the source material. Its a re-imagining, a re-interpretation. That doesn't mean its bad. Its simply different.

'Mischaracterisation' is only actually applicable in fandom spaces when someone is trying to insist as a blanket fact that a character would do something or behave in a way that blatantly contradicts their canon behavior, opinions, morals and perspective or deliberately interpreting an action in biased bad faith. It is not actually applicable to fanfiction where creative liberty dictates you can do whatever the fuck you want with a character because you're not trying to claim it as part of the source content.

Questions To Ask Yourself

Am I reacting to [media] emotionally instead of rationally? Is my emotional response to [media] blinding me to the rational or critical approach(es)?

Am I allowing my expectations to get in the way of me understanding [media] fully? Am I forming a biased negative opinion of [media] because it isn't meeting my expectations?

Even if I disagree with [media], do I actually understand it? Can I recognise the reasoning behind choices made or actions even if I don't agree with them?

Am I searching too hard to hidden meaning or purpose in absolutely everything? Can I recognise what is simply passive information/detail and what is active information/detail? (E.g; English tutors saying a character's curtains are blue because they're depressed when throughout the literature its passively reinforced that blue is the character's favorite color.)

Even though I disagree with the statement or opinion shown, is it necessary to argue against it? Is there any benefit to making my counter-opinion known or is it simply a no-end argument? Am I just using arguing as a means of release/fulfilment? Am I treating this person poorly because of their opinion/statement?

Resources

Critical Thinking Exercises & Explanations #1 The Critical Thinking Activity Workbook Early Stage Critical Thinking Games Five Media Literacy Activities Six Media Literacy Ideas

[esamastation]

Part fifty-eight of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-fix, fifty-seven

-

The first day with Tseng as his babysitter begins easily enough. They have breakfast, they have tea, Tseng has impeccable manners, and even compliments the tea… There's no weird comments, no pointed looks, and when Sephiroth gets ready to train, Tseng says nothing, just follows him outside to watch.

And then he watches. He watches Sephiroth very closely. He watches every movement like he's looking for flaws. Sephiroth feels like he's being graded, like this is a test and every move he makes is being scored on a damn point scale!

Who could concentrate on cultivation like this?!

"Do you have to?" Sephiroth asks irritably.

"I am not doing anything," Tseng says mildly as if he's not just standing there, staring.

Giving him an unimpressed look, Sephiroth rests one hand on his hip. "Reno and Rude managed to observe without being in my face about it - can't you do the same?"

"If the result is the same, why does it matter which way I go about my observation?" Tseng asks. "I will still be observing, and you will still be aware of it."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have to see your face doing it," Sephiroth says, annoyed. 

"Inability to handle public pressure seems an odd quality for someone so… famous."

The guy is actually trying to piss him off. Sephiroth realises this with a mixture of incredulity and awe. Tseng is actually trying to make him, Sephiroth, the Big Bad with one psychotic episode already behind him, lose his temper. Does the guy have no survival instincts, or is this some kind of test?

Probably a test. The Turks are far too practical for it to be the other thing. And that makes it a little less annoying and far more worrisome.

"What do you want, Tseng?" Sephiroth asks slowly. "Do you want me to lose control?"

Tseng blinks at him, his face like a fine-featured mask. "Are you going to?"

Annoying. "Keep this up and I might."

"Very well," Tseng says and fucking settles down to wait.

Sephiroth suppresses the urge to tap his foot at the man and instead takes a step back mentally. It's another manipulation tactic, and it's not even subtle. Tseng is doing some corporate middle manager psychology bullshit, establishing authority through perceived roles in the corporate ladder.

I'm the observer and the judge. You are on trial. Now perform for me.

Ugh, it gives him the worst kind of flashbacks for Shen Yuan's family life. Did not miss that part of it one bit! But now that he knows what's up…

Sephiroth smiles at Tseng - who of course doesn't so much as blink in return, but Sephiroth can sense how he goes on guard.

You want to play office politics, sir? You picked the wrong Peak Lord.

"Very well," Sephiroth says pleasantly. "Then you can help me with this."

That makes Tseng actually react. "I'm sorry?"

"Your job here isn't just to observe me, is it? It's also to get me back to my duties promptly, right?" Sephiroth says and smiles a little wider. "That will occur much faster with your help."

Tseng hesitates, clearly sensing the trap.

"Unless you want my report to eventually include a section explaining how I could've, surely, returned to work faster, if only I had the cooperation of my coworker."

Tseng's eyes are narrow. "We are not coworkers."

"We work for the same company, don't we? In different branches, perhaps, but still within the same corporate structure - within the same department, even. Ultimately, aren't our goals within Shinra the same?" Sephiroth purrs, putting all his smug villainy into it. "Surely we should be working together."

Now, Tseng could still decline. If this was your usual corporate politics, maybe he would've. But there's not much Tseng can actually gain in the attempt of putting Sephiroth down, seeing as they really are in very different fields within the company. So there's a different motive for his posturing. Question is, when given different avenues to pursue, which will tilt the scales? The original goal, whatever it was, or a new opportunity and all its potential gains?

What's the worth of an indebted Sephiroth to Tseng?

"Very well," Tseng finally says and steps forward, adjusting his gloves as he does. He's suspicious, more so than before, but there's a crack, an opening, in his hard outer shell. "What can I do for you?"

Sephiroth smiles a little wider. Seems like what his Da-ge used to say is true after all. Ultimately, all successful company men are opportunists. 

"Tell me, Tseng - do you use Materia?" Sephiroth asks.

"... I do, yes," Tseng says slowly. "Though I wouldn't call myself an expert, especially in the face of a SOLDIER."

Well, isn't that a surprise. Humility. "Do you have any you particularly favour?" Sephiroth asks interestedly.

Tseng hesitates, just looking at him for a moment. "I tend to carry at least a Sense and a Barrier with me."

Information and defence. "Fitting," Sephiroth hums, looking him up and down. "Using Materia, you have a pool of MP," he says. "Correct?"

"... Yes, obviously I do," Tseng agrees slowly, even more on edge now. "What of it?"

Sephiroth's eyes wander up his face - and to the red dot adorning the space between his brows. 

In PIDW many cultivators marked their upper dantian. Shen Qingqiu did too, when he felt like it, with a little red line. It was where Luo Binghe's Demon Seal rested too, marking his connection and curse from the heavens. What such markings mean tends to vary with the setting and what rules, traditions and myths were in play. But usually they mark someone as especially enlightened.

Why Tseng has a mark on his forehead, Sephiroth has no idea. He's pretty sure it wasn't ever fully explained or explored, like a lot of other things about Wutai. It's very clearly deliberately applied, and it means something. 

Sephiroth hums to himself, as the Turk braces himself for a battle he doesn't even know is already over.

"Tell me, Tseng," he says and smiles, "Do you know where the MP resides in your body?" 

-

Get Shizun'd, part two.

This was brought to you by fever and a good nap.

[justatalkingface]

The 'Great' MHA Read Along, Part Five (Chapters 22-44): The Mandatory Exploitive Tournament Arc

Been awhile, huh? Let's see if I can still pull this off. I'm warning you, this is probably going to have a bit of heft to it.

We start off people trying (and failing) to investigate Shigarki and the Villains and, first off, a couple of things. The whole, 'Quirk Registry' shit? Very X-Men. I'm... kinda mixed feelings on it. It makes sense for a government to try and keep track of this kind of shit, but at the same time it feels like a whole lot, you know? That said... the way the guy in the suit phrased it makes it seem like they only searched for 'Shigaraki/Disintegration' and 'Kurogiri/OP warping' pairings, which seems... dumb. Like, really dumb.

Are they.... are they not going to search for anyone with a similar Quirk? Because it sounds like there are other people with similar Quirks, so... what about them? Oh, this pale haired guy who mutters a lot about how horrible heroes are isn't named Shigaraki, so clearly this isn't the guy? Do some ground work or something, man, bloody hell.

*spits out drink*

Even All-Might thinks Shigaraki is a man-child, lol. Brutal. That said... Vlad goes, 'You mean he's just like a kid with a 'power' or something?!'

And I. My dude. You're just some guy with a power. It feels like some depersonalization of the 'villains' because, yeah, everyone in this story is, in fact, just some rando human, 99.9% of the time with super powers. I don't know, it just feels like that's this really concerning perspective for someone in authority to have.

'I keep forgetting this is an actual school!'

That. That's... actually really concerning? Everyone, literally everyone, from Aizawa, to the students, to the actual author, can't seem to figure out if UA is some military academy meant to pump out child soldiers, or an actual high school meant to prepare children to go into society. And not to belabor the point here, one I've talking about on and off again for awhile, but that's fucked up.

I can't help but get the impression that UA (and presumably every other hero academy) is some military complex, setting up the students to live a life where the only way they know how to live is through violence and trying to be famous, but it's just... pretending to have standards, pretending to care for the kids as anything more than the next generation of... idol-police, or something. The way every school related thing is so out of place, the way their grades are so unimportant... it's very telling.

And like. It's not a bad thing, per say. Morally bad, sure, but from a story telling perspective? For a story like this, the way the heroic's school is morally dubious is actually a really good plot point to work off of. But... that's the problem. It never happens.

If the setting was fucked up enough, it'd be understandable if it wasn't explored, but it's not. I feel like there's some fertile ground to talk about... how heroes don't know how to handle living normal lives. How to cook, clean, do taxes, hIstory (which is, of course, very loaded sort of topic in a more dystopian kind of a set up) and so on. There's no way they have the time and energy to do all the thing a normal kid should do at their age, and as they grow up, and get these dangerous, fucked up jobs? There has to be consequences to that.

And the next line later, they bring up, you know, a bunch of terrorists just attacked the school. Which is, in fact, a serious fucking concern! What does Aizawa say?

'No no, we're only doing because we're so sure we have this shit locked down.'

Spoiler alert: They did not, in fact, have this shit locked down. In the least.

My god, this is so fucked up. It's pretty clear that the fact this is still happening is because UA, and heroics as a whole, honestly, is doing a show of force to try and make all the bad things go away. In all honesty, they're putting these kids lives at risk; the only reason nothing went wrong isn't because 'the school had all its ducks in a row when it comes to crisis control' or what the fuck ever, but because AFO didn't want to do anything. And you know why he doesn't interfere?

Because it's so damn useful for him that they flat out broadcast the details of the students and what their Quirks are!

And don't even get me started on this 'Olympics have fallen out of favor' bullshit. It's a world wide event, and it doesn't matter if the population has... shrunk (? That's what my translation says, anyways. Is this honestly saying that so many people died that the Olympics no longer holds any attraction? I mean.. what? What the fuck? What happened???? Why in the hell is this getting brushed over?! Or is that just a bad translation, and if so what is he saying is the reason the Olympics no longer have any appeal?) or whatever, because that's just... bullshit. That's just bullshit. If super powers happen, and they get at all stabilized and regulated like they are in here, all that's going to happen is that the powers are going to be part of the Olympics, and a lower population count really isn't going to change the fundamental reasons why it's popular in the first place.

Speedster racing, various forms of competitive flying (racing (in all its variations), acrobatics, mid-air dancing, synchronized flying.... flight along has dozens of potential new Olympics sports, easy), something like shot-put hurling but with some kind of projectiles, fire, lasers, whatever? Oh yeah, the Olympics are going to be just fine.

So please, Hori, spare me your obsessive need to make heroics the most important thing EVAH all of the time.

But, wait, there's more! It's not just, the new super Olympics, oh no, this is for their careers. In high school. This is, apparenlty, a make or break moment for the rest of their lives (again, with however that undefined heroics ranking and what not works). How old are they? What, fifteen? 'Here, go do bloodsports, and if you fuck up, you're going to be a menial, loser fry-cook of a wannabe police officer, dressed in brightly colored spandex for the rest of your life, barely making any money, and never getting any real respect or validation for putting your life at risk'.

Oh, I have opinions on the Sports Festival, believe me, I have a lot of opinions, but I'd like to save at least some of these more for when the actual Sports Festival starts, and not, like, five pages into the first chapter out of what, twenty two? We've got the time.

Uraraka! You're an actual character! My, this is nostalgic. I always loved the contrast between her hyper cute-zied design of her and the fact she's down to beat the living shit out of someone at the drop of a hat, and it's nice to have that again.

(Also, she's showing more ability to inspire the class here than Bakugou has shown literally the entire series, no matter how much Hori goes on about his 'charisma' or whatever.)

And then we get into her "impure" motivations to be a hero, (which I've also talked about on occasion), and it's very humanizing, both for Uraraka as a character, and the industry as a whole. It's one of those great set ups Hori ended up dropping on world building, which sucks because it'd be so interesting if he got into the nuts and bolts of the world a bit. I'm not saying we need to see the tax code or anything, but for a series that's about corruption and what not, some more detail would really help pull all of this together.

Ah, Dumb Might. I didn't miss you, except I kind of did because Dumb Might is still better than Useless-Side-Character Might.

Also, can I talk about how stupid it is that Dumb Might is burning his less than an hour's worth of time 'teaching' students again? Because holy fuck that's such a waste it's honestly criminal.

And what the hell is this switch in motivations, here? All Might never mentioned, you know, replacing him is the Symbol of Peace before now. Before this point, the whole reason he chose Izuku is that he'd be worthy user of his power, not, what, replacing him. If Izuku never gained any real fame, but still managed to save a lot of people? Before-this-point All Might would have been fine with that. More than that, he would have been proud of it, proud his successor was humble and chose to focus on doing good rather than fame. Hell, not too long ago it was pointing out by All Might that Izuku wouldn't want to use All Might's fame to benefit himself, to go slow and steady and earn his success rather than relying on fame.

Where the fuck did this come from? What the fuck kind of pressure is he trying to put on this kid?

And then right after that, we see flashes of who All Might used to be with the whole 'don't forget how you felt at the seaside park, that day', bit. Because, like, that's good. That's great! It's real, and deep, and gritty, and I'd love it if it wasn't being use with this set up, because those expectations work in other shonens, but they don't work here. Izuku can't do what All Might did, because he can't stop damn hurting himself. Going Plus Ultra, here, now, for this? It could cause real, serious harm to him for the rest of his life! And for what? To make a good impression?

And if something would call him on that, it could still work, because All Might is canonly shit at taking care of himself, that could, like, close the circle for all of this, bring it together with the two them as shit at at self care as a place to build them improving off of, but for whatever reason, Hori never went all the way on that because he was too damn afraid to commit to it, commit to a story, commit to a theme, commit to a moral.

...Holy shit, how many pages is this? We haven't even gotten to actual Sports Festival yet in the post about the damn Sports Festival.

And now we have this creepy, kind of morbid mob of people filling the hallway to stare at Class 1-A for.... being attacked by terrorists.

*what the fuck.jpeg*

What is wrong with you people?! What the actual hell is wrong with you???

And then Shinso rolls up:

"Wow. Look at these arrogant assholes, so excited about not getting killed. I'm going to declare war on them, because they deserve it for getting all high and mighty."

...

You know, I completely forgot about the epic story of, 'Shinso Hitoshi and his Completely Unmerited Persecution Complex'. I'm sad that I remember that now.

Bakugou: "People's opinions don't matter once your at the top."

Me: *looks at how much people's opinions matter to getting to the top, and staying there*

Me: ...Uh.

Thank you, Kaminari, for pointing out his edgy bullshit is, in fact, actually bullshit, and is only going to make his life more difficult for no reason. I like you as an actual person who does things other than cheerlead for Bakugou.

Izuku. Izuku no, Izuku...! Damn it. Bad Izuku. Bad! Stop getting inspired by the festering waste spewing out of Bakugou's mouth!

Cue all of two panels of the media being absolute assholes only out to make ratings with no redeeming features.

And... here's the actual Sports Festival, god knows how long into this post later!

(if you believe the text editor I just posted all of this into? Well into four pages. ...Even with my generous use of spacing, I think I have a problem.)

..Wait. Wait. Where the hell is this happening?

*does five seconds of research on the wiki*

I'm right. They have a stadium for this. Like, a giant ass sports stadium that exists for this. Only for this. That is used once a year.

At this point, I'm honestly wondering why UA isn't just it's own city. Like, Izuku should have moved here, along with the rest of the students, and all the families and various staff needed to run this just.... live on site. It's not like it'd cost them anything, since they apparently have spare cities sitting around for the kids to trash.

That's... that's actually a really interesting idea? Because it'd be a hero run city, then, which feels like it'd work well into the over commercialized, corrupted state heroics is supposed to be like, their overwhelming level of influence. I don't think that's what Hori was going for, to be clear, I think he has no idea just how much space he's causally put on UA's campus and didn't think through the implications... at all.

Ooh, and here comes Todoroki's characterization.

And... here comes the bloodsport, because that's what all of this is: bloodsport. They're throwing a bunch of teenagers onto this stage, broadcast them to the entire country, and have them fight against each other for fame. This society is so fucked up.

Random Gen Ed kid: Yeah, he placed first in the Heroics Entance Exam.

...Yeah. As fucking stupid as it is that Bakugou somehow placed first, it does make sense the person who place first in the Heroics Entrance Exam would be class representative in a school for heroics. Damn, you're salty, kid, but you're also kinda dumb, not going to lie.

Bakugou: *opens his mouth on live TV*

Bakugou: *vomits diarrhea for the entire country to see*

Izuku: ...Wow, Bakugou's so cool! He's grown up and mature now!

...Izuku. Izuku, buddy, please, stop doing this to yourself.

As yet another thing I've mentioned before, a lot of our views on Bakugou comes from Izuku. Izuku who has, from chapter one, all but worshipped Bakugou. Even when he does things wrong, even when he's actively fighting against him, Izuku can't stop himself from going on and on about how great Bakugou is, how cool and tough and determined he is. Izuku's hero worship of his abuser is sheltering Bakugou's actions from the readers, papering over all of his worst traits with a a transparent facade that he's this glorious figure. It's the narrative going the extra mile to cover his arrogant ass, to make him seem like a rival instead of an bully, someone worthy of respect rather than contempt.

Hmm. I don't want to go too much into the nuts and bolts of the event, I think, since I've done that before, so let's try something else: How Many Times Could This Kill A Literal Child? Where I, you guessed it, count how many times a teenager could have been killed, on national television, in this event.

Count one: The start of the race itself, where... *counts how many kids are in 1-A, multiplies by eleven*... two hundred and twenty kids run forward at the same time, trying to force themselves through the same opening. This shit is why it's illegal to shout fire in a theater, because a stampede like this could get someone trampled to death, or maybe crushed by the sheer weight of the crowd (which is something that happens, someone getting killed by the a crowd of unruly people just... squeezing them on accident).

*stares at Shinso being carried around like a wannabe king instead of using his own damn legs judgingly*

Count Two: Mineta gets bitched slapped by a robotic arm bigger than he is. I don't think I have to get into how that could be fatal.

Count Three: The army of Zero Pointers who could easily step on someone.

*Momo wondering about how UA can fund this makes me feel very validated, BTW*

Count Four: Todoroki dumping the Zero Pointer on the rest of the competition to block the way, again for obvious reasons. He obviously doesn't meant to, but this kid isn't even looking back. This is both lamp shaded and then dismissed because it happens to the only two people who could shrug that off, but holy shit that could have killed so many of them.

...The cameras are robots. The cameras are robots with AIs that are cheering on the other robots. I- I can't- what?!?

And then everyone can't stop themselves from praising Bakugou for the radical idea of going over a problem instead of blasting through it. Wow, Bakugou. Amazing. Such brains, such smarts.

Count Five: The Fall. Because there's no way that anyone could get themselves killed by. You know. Falling. If I was more generous, I'd say something like, 'There's probably something down there to catch them if they fall', but I'm not terribly impressed by UA's ability to actually keep these kids safe, so that doesn't make me think they'd have thought that through that much.

Grudgingly, I'm going to give a landmines a pass, because they're explicitly supposed to be non-lethal, and them blowing up didn't do any real damage. Burns, maybe, possibly a broken limb, probably some scars, but this count is about people dying. Izuku's pile could have been, maybe, but that's a level of deliberate action on his part big enough that I can't really blame UA, per say.

Eraserhead, on how 1-A has improved: I didn't do anything.

...Well. At least he's honest.

One other thing: I've said before how bullshit All Might telling Izuku to 'fight to win' was, and right here, here's the proof: All Might explicitly going, "I was afraid you'd be too nice to try and beat other people in competitions, but you proved me wrong! I'm so proud!". You know, fighting to win. Like he later says Izuku doesn't for some mysterious reason *cough*, to make him seem at the same level as Bakugou, *cough*. Poor, poor All Might, yet another victim of Bakugou's narrative warping favoritism.

And here we see the management kids going all out in how to sell Izuku and his brand, which is so very fucked up, for them and the people they're 'selling'. I'm aware this is something that celebrities go through, (which is fucked up for them as well, don't get me wrong; I'm an equal opportunity 'this is fucked up' call out-er), but these kids are in high school. The fact that they're doing this, and getting this done to them, in such numbers, in such an early age... yeah. There's no way this could give them lots and lots of long term stress and psychological problems, right?

Meanwhile, as we get to the offical rankings, I think it's time go back over the 'How Many Times Could This Kill A Literal Child?' count... at five. Five times they could have been killed on complete accident.

That is not a good score.

I'm stopping it here because the other events don't have the same problem, but instead of a whole new problem of delibrately pitting them against each other. On live TV. With minimal supervison. Cementoss popping in at the last second in Izuku vs Todoroki, considering how badly Izuku got hurt in the process, does not fill me with a great sense of these fights being well monitored.

*gets an omake chapter*

*Bakugou gets called Izuku's childhood 'friend'. Bitch, please.*

So. Here's a new point: the million point bullshit is... well. Bullshit. It's the snitch in Quiddich all over again, giving the hero something both super import, with an extra layer of difficulty, to drive up the stress and stakes, only kicked up by a million. Making more than the others makes sense, and making it enough to pass by itself is still pretty reasonable, but making it so excessively much has no point other making Izuku feel isolated from his peers and hunted by his classmates.

Also, Mt Lady going on about how 'great' an exercise the second round is is missing the point that this is literally a thing Japanese kids do in school. Literally, this is a game they're playing with Quirks, not some tactical exercise; it's like saying that playing hide and seek makes you great at hunting people down or something. Again, Hori, dial back your constant need to tell us how great the Sports Festival is. Because it isn't. It really, really isn't.

More doses of everything drooling over how great Bakugou is, and how much of a total shit of a human being he is, joy. Mineta and Shouji's teamup is actually pretty damn brilliant, even though it's tainted by how much of a one-dimensional character Mineta is. Iida is getting shown as Izuku's enemy, but honestly it looks more like he's just trying to improve himself more than anything, while acknowledging how competent Izuku is. Not just that he won the first round, or has a lot points but that Izuku, as a person, is the goal he wants to surpass; there's some good shit there, and pretty validating, if Izuku could allow himself to accept it.

Oh Mei! Mei... actually, I have a post I need to do about the Mei and Izuku dynamic at some point, how they're so designed to work together, but yeah she's fun.

And then Uraraka thinks about how strategic Izuku is being and again, I can't help but contrast this with how things happen later on; even if Izuku never lets himself really feel the respect people have for him, people at this point in time really, honestly seem to respect him, not for his Quirk, but for his brain, his determination, his heroism; it's so well setup for Izuku to stand on his own two feet without OFA and it's some really good stuff. It's a shame Hori gets rid of it.

Hmm. Class B. Class B is... interesting. They're set up as rivals but after this it never goes anywhere, and just leaves us with a bad impression of Monoma, without letting him get a good chance to get past it. I don't like him, honestly, his personality grates at me and he needs to get over himself, but he doesn't deserve the hate he gets from the fandom.

That said, though, the Class A vs Class B victory philosphy is honestly just another example of destroying yourself vs having realistic limits, how All Might and Izuku keep destroying themselves vs everyone else not doing that. The fact Class B is actually thinking ahead is smart, but the series doesn't give them that credit because it's not ambitious enough... even though that runs straight into conflicting with Izuku and his issues.

Hori, fucking commit already. In all honesty, it feels like 1-B should have won over Bakugou and knocked him out of the compition; they planned it out, and played him like a sucker, because he's a bullheaded moron. It's all right there, but right as they win... Eraserhead shows up in the booth and says, 'Yes, you've won, but actually no, because Bakugou need to win anyways. So he is. Because REASONS!' Then All Might gets dragged into that same bullshit just to make it really clear that no, Bakugou is right. Planning? Strategy? That's for losers. Real winners just need to want it hard enough, and no one wants things more than Bakugou!

It would have been better, as a story, and for everyone's character development, if that had happened. Bakugou would have lost to some 'nobodies', Izuku would have gone past him without even validating him with a fight, and Class B and Monoma would have gotten a better chance to show themselves as characters; win win win.

And then Endeavour shows up. Fuck Endeavour. Also that is a man who looks like a serial killer. Dumb Might continues to reign and be completely unable to recognize when someone hates him when he monologues about it right in front of him.

Meanwhile, Bakugou is just... there. For some reason. Why? Why does he need to be there for this? It makes his hissy fit later even worse when you realize he knows why Todoroki doesn't use his fire, and it has literally nothing to do with him. Ignoring him, though, Todoroki and Izuku's moment here is some good stuff, a nice setup for a healthy rivalry based on mutual respect, rather than the toxic mess he has with Bakugou.

Ugh. That cheerleader bullshit. Honestly, it says a lot that they can be told that, 'Aizawa says you need to dress up as cheerleaders', and apparently no one questions this, because of course Aizawa would pull some kind of weird bullshit on them with absolutely no warning at what anyone else would think is the worst possible time.

Midnight being really creepy about how she talks to teenagers, of course, and now... Shinso.

'Consent is for losers' Shinso. 'Everyone is coasting on their Quirks except for me, who only knows how to use my Quirk' Shinso. 'Let me use my Quirk on someone before we even get in the arena so I can blatantly cheat' Shinso. 'No one else has dreams or ambitions' Shinso.

I don't like Shinso. I like the idea of Shinso, sure, but that idea is another one of those paper thing veneers Hori likes to put on his characters, without doing the work to make that match the reality; the only hardship we've seen him go through is his apparent inability to work hard. Like, everyone loves Shinso, in story and out, they can't stop themselves from telling him how great his Quirk is. And you know what? It is. It is a great Quirk.

But Shinso talks like he's had a such a hard time with it, even though he seems to love it, love using it, and the way he acts, like he knows he can go through a career as a hero based only on that Quirk. He's wrong, since he's so out of shape he can't even run, apparently, but he's operating off that assumption at this point, which conflicts with his poor little martyr act.

I want you to look at the iceberg Todoroki makes, and compare it to his efforts against Stain. If he did that against him? That fight would have been over the minute he showed up, and Todoroki ambushed him. This is pretty much our last moments of Todoroki, certified badass, before the nerfs roll in. Savor it, Todoroki fans, because he'll never recover from having to lose against Bakugou.

Another omake, which seems like foreshadowing about Hori deals with women characters: bringing up a good characterization, or valid idea (do women heroes need sexiness to do their jobs?), before throwing it away to fall for the same tropes that he was making a stand against just a minute ago (women getting in a cat fight, which apparently gets really explicit, all of this on a TV before Mineta, Hori's avatar of his own horniness).

Then, as if to prove my point, we get Bakugou vs Uraraka where, like Class B before her, she does everything right, gets the win... and then gets it taken away at the last minute by idiotic bullshit pulled out of nowhere (since when could Bakugou make a blast like that? Why does he need those bomb gauntlets if he can do that?) because Bakugou isn't allowed to lose. And then Eraserhead, Hori's mouthpiece, shouts down the crowd, and us, when we think bad thoughts about it because that isn't allowed either; we need to love Bakugou.

Bakugou respects women! ...Just as much as he respects everyone else. That is to say, he doesn't. Hell, he doesn't respect her enough to think Uraraka planned her own fight! He just gets one line for one second that makes it seem like he respects her, but of course once that moments gone it's back to the normal level of complete disrespect. That's totally character growth right there, one second of acting different before returning right back to standard behavior.

So... Izuku vs Todoroki. I like the fight, it's very dramatic, very cool, but... stop to think about it a second, and about a minute in, Izuku's entire ass hand is broken. That is not OK. Why are they letting it go on? It's simultaneously a great fight, but a seemingly awkward implementation of Izuku having a Quirk, because so much of this arc is built off of him not using a Quirk, not having it. This fight only works with it, though. And it's cool, don't get me wrong, but it's shallow at the same time because of the Quirk, because Izuku has to go Plus Ultra, has to go past his limits. Instead of accepting a more reasonable win, he has to win, period, and he doesn't have the power for that.

There's this awkward conflict here between the story's various narratives, between Izuku needing to suffer, and struggle, and break himself, and his more grounded planning and actions, and you can see Hori's old, better planned out ideas getting replaced with newer, less thought out ones. It's honestly kind of a theme for this arc in it's own right.

Flaws aside, though, the fight is gripping, and it's a great setup for Todoroki, a great starting point in making him an important character, in giving him growth. Shame Hori ends up throwing all that away literally the next fight.

Well, before that happens, let's talk the one two punch of, 1, Izuku having done himself permanent, life long damage, which nobody thought to stop, and 2, the sheer, unmitigated clusterfuck of Recovery Girl going, 'I'm not going to treat wounds like these'.

So. If Izuku breaks anything... well. She's not going to treat that. I guess he has to walk around with a broken finger/hand/arm, without any medical attention whatsoever? Well. I certainly don't see any problems with that.

Then we get Bakugou, who canonly has problems using his Quirk for extended periods of time, outlasting someone by using his Quirk for extended periods of time, before going on to fight someone who uses cold, his canon weakness, and ignoring how it should completely neutralize his Quirk to overpower it, through what I can only call his sheer, narrative warping concentration of favoritism.

On what happens after he wins... I've seen people say that he doesn't mean to attack Todoroki, just try to wake him up, but looking at that scene: he's holding Todoroki's body up with one hand as if to shake him, sure, but it's the other hand that's the problem. The way he's holding it is, for his Quirk, an offensive pose, making it ready to attack his target. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt (against my own opinion) and say it's not proof positive that he was about to attack, but there's no getting around that Bakugou had himself perfectly set up to hit Todoroki, full blast, while he was unconscious. Even if it's the more innocent explanation, that feels like something that should have disqualified him because... that's really concerning. That feels a step away from him threatening victims he thinks should have stood up for themselves or something; it's not heroic, in the slightest. The fact they had to knock him out, presumably for Todoroki's own safety, says enough about how bad that is.

The fact that the ending comment is basiclly lamenting from his perspective, that this 'isn't what he wanted' is... certainly a choice. He won, but, gasp! The person with long held issues in using his full power that long predate him didn't use his full power! The poor baby!

Then we get to the award ceremony where they... chain him up? Why!? If the doesn't want the damn award, don't give it to him; they let those guys earlier give up when they felt they didn't deserve it, why is Bakugou different? It feels like it's Hori tying him up here, against Bakugou's own will, and characterization, to give him that win just so he can win, but also to forcefully set up Bakugou's own importance with the League later. It's ham handed. It's probably child abuse. It's stupid.

It's fucked up all the way down, is what I'm saying.

Then All Might shows up, and fucks up his entrance timing because he's not allowed to win anymore, of course, and then forces that medal on Bakugou.

Uuuugh.

Last couple of panels, though, are pretty nice: we build up Uraraka's character, get the next arc set up, set up Izuku (fucking finally) getting away to use his own damn power, and develop Todoroki a bit.

A nice little cherry on top of the shit sundae.

[pbforeva]

after this i’ll probably switch to updating every other day 😔

but enjoyyyy

part 9!

**TW: DV**

—

Evelyn's pov:

No, she's wrong. Blake isn't abusive. He would never do that to me, he loves me. She just doesn't get it, I mean many people don't. I pick myself up from the bench I was sitting on and attempt to wipe a few tears. I start my walk back to my apartment with Blake, when I realize I don't have my phone.

It's ok, I don't need my phone, currently, I just need Blake. Oh shoot, I still haven't texted him. Well, I guess seeing me is better than a text. Soon I arrive at my door and I slowly open it.

"Blake," I call throughout the apartment with tears streaming down my face.

"Evelyn? Where the fuck were you?" He asks in an angered tone.

"I'm sorry, I lost my phone," I choke out, as my tears increase.

"Yeah, well were you cheating on me?" He asks, while slamming his hand next to my face.

"No-no I would never, you know-" I try to say, but suddenly I'm cut off by Blake punching me in the side of my face. I feel blood start to spread throughout my mouth.

"You know, I don't believe you," he yells out before he pushes me to the ground.

"I TOLD YOU TO TEXT ME," he shouts as he gets on top of me and starts hitting me all over. My mind is spinning and my hearing is fading, the only consistent thing is the hits raining down on me.

Blake's pov:

She deserves this. All I asked was for her to text me, was that really so difficult? After I didn't get a text by ten p.m., I went over to Aurora's dorm to see if she was there. I knocked, and I knocked a few more times before I threw my hands up in frustration because no one answered. She was definitely cheating me.

Rage has over taken me and I can barely control my own actions. I continue to yell at her, hitting her anywhere I can think to.

After about ten minutes, my rage begins to subsides, and I stop hitting her. I get up off the floor and make my way to the kitchen, I grab a rag, wet it a bit, and start to clean off my bloodied knuckles. I hate when she makes me do this to her. She knows I don't like to hurt her, why can't she just be a good girlfriend?

I walk back out to the living room and look at my Evelyn. Wow, I don't think I've ever hit her this hard, especially near her face. Whatever, this isn't my problem to deal with. She'll wake up in the morning and clean herself up, along with the blood splattered floor.

I probably won't come back for a day or two. She looks horribly ugly right now and I don't want to see that. She is so incredibly sad all the time as well, I'll come back when she is a bit more pleasant looking. Why would I stick around right now when I could be with hotter girls? Evelyn is my safety net, no matter how many girls I get with, I won't ever let her get away.

Paige's pov:

Today has been a tough day. Aurora went to the beach, alone, and turned off her phone because she needs a little bit to collect herself. Although I can't blame her, it would be nice to have someone to talk to about Evelyn's predicament.

I can't talk to KK about this because this would be a big burden on her. She loves to fix things because she's a bit uncomfortable when around serious situations, and I don't want to put my stress on her.

Aubrey is out of the question because she would suggest we would go tell the authorities. We don't even have evidence, and Evelyn denying it wouldn't help our case. She just doesn't get everything.

I guess I could tell Azzi. She always understands, knows how to comfort me, and keep it respectful. I guess I'll go talk to Azzi about it. No way I'm getting up though, my bed is way comfier than hers.

AZZI BOO

Hey, can you come to my room?

Yeah, what's up?

I have to talk to you about

something

Yeah, I'll be right there

After about five minutes, a confused Azzi stumbles into my room. She comes to sit on the bed with me, noticing the stressed out look in my eyes.

"What did you want to talk about?" Azzi questions me gently.

"It's about Evelyn," I say while looking down. Looking up, I continue, "I think she's being abused by her boyfriend," I finish with my voice breaking. I watch as Azzi's face twists with a mix of emotions, fear and dismay being the most prevalent.

"What? How? Wait where is she?" She says, the words almost running out of her mouth.

"I'm not exactly sure, she left about twenty minutes ago," I reply.

"Well how do you know?" She questions me further.

"Well, at the party, I was just watching everyone, not really feeling the dancing. I eventually saw Aubrey and Evelyn dancing together and having good time, but then Evelyn's shirt came up and her whole stomach was covered in bruises. Also, at the end of the night, I ended changing her and I noticed four small, circular bruises around one of her wrists." I utter as the weight of it all comes down on my shoulders, realizing how dire the situation is.

"Oh gosh," Azzi said, seeming to be at a loss for words. Finding the strength to talk again, she says, "We should go find her and make sure she's safe."

I agree and quickly wipe the tears from my eyes before we go. Wait, I don't know where she lives. Although, she did leave her phone here.

I grab her phone and open it, I'm surprised there isn't a password, but it's helping me so, whatever. I go to her google maps and tap on the location that's labeled 'home'.

Azzi and I begin the walk to her apartment. The walk is short, and we continue to talk about Evelyns situation. Eventually we arrive, and it's been about forty minutes since she left. That much couldn't have happened, right?

The door is cracked open by a bloodied rag. Oh gosh, what happened? Azzi and I make eye contact, knowing this isn't a good sign. I push the door open and walk a few steps into the kitchen. I start scanning the apartment for any sign of Evelyn, and I stop on the living room floor, where I see a bloodied Evelyn, laying in a pool of blood.

Oh gosh, why did I let her leave? That was stupid, this is all my fault. I call out to Azzi, telling her to come here, as I run over to Evelyn. Tears prick in my eyes as I notice the extent of her injuries. Her nose seems to be broken, along with a few ribs, the Uconn hoodie she went home in now across the room. I attempt to check her breathing, when my heart stops for a second.

"AZZI," I yell out, "She's barely breathing! Call someone," I scream with tears streaming down my face. I hear Azzi calling 911 as I begin to pray over Evelyn's unconscious body.

—

I decided to make this chapter a cliff hanger because @ollieslesbo said she loves them so much 🤗

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the third part of our angst rec list for you to check out! You can find part one here and part two here. The fics on this list are all amazing, so please be sure to read them, give them kudos, and leave a comment for the author. If you enjoy our rec lists, please like this post and reblog it to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Please, Don’t Say You Want Me | Explicit | 9,320 words

Prompt 496: ABO/royalty AU. Where Omega Prince Louis is forced to marry alpha King Harry by his father for the benefit of their kingdom. After the wedding, Harry lets Louis know that he didn’t want a mate and to not expect a relationship from him. Since they are already mated, Harry has to officially reject Louis’s omega to break ties. This practice is so taboo that he doesn’t know the omega has a maximum of a year left to live after rejection. As time goes on, the omega gets weaker and weaker.

2) All This Delusion In Our Heads | Explicit | 15,088 words

After Harry and Louis break up, they cope with it in very different ways. What will happen when Harry keeps calling his ex over when things go wrong in his life, but Louis just can't take it anymore?

3) Dandelion Heart | Explicit | 17,563 words

After his sister’s death, Louis is granted full custody of his 4-year-old nephew, TJ. It isn’t easy, but with the help of TJ’s other uncle, Harry, they learn to make it work.

4) Death Wish | Explicit | 22,067 words

Louis hates vampires, he lives his life trying to kill as many as he can, night after night, year after year. He hates them. Then why the fuck is he kissing one? Again. “I mean it, Harry.” Louis says, into his mouth this time. “You need to get the fuck away from me.”

5) The Games We Play | Explicit | 23,448 words

Louis is a political lobbyist who chose his career over his personal life a long time ago and has never regretted it. Then he met Harry.

6) Bloom | Explicit | 24,887 words

When they first meet at Harry’s flower truck, Harry falls hard but Louis’ unavailable. Only before long, Harry reignites a spark that Louis thought long forgotten.

7) Somebody's Got Your Trainers On (It's You) | Explicit | 28,000 words

Louis hasn't thought about Harry since half an hour after the shift started, when Krystle told him that she was binging Gogglebox last night and therefore didn't get enough sleep - a sure reminder of Harry’s temporary Gogglebox obsession. Five hours isn't much without thinking about someone, but that's as long as it gets. Louis came to terms with that two years ago. When Harry walked out the door with his stupid New Balance trainers and never looked back.

8) The Road Not Taken | Explicit | 30,393 words

The one where Harry returns back home for the holidays after a successful debut album, leaving Louis to unwrap gifts as well as old complicated feelings. Cue: hometown holiday hookups, overbearing siblings, and a disastrous New Year’s Eve party. A 'Tis’ the Damn Season' inspired AU.

9) Compass To The Soul | Teen & Up | 31,439 words

Harry Styles, alpha, is 1/4 of the perfect pack, and 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time touring the world with his best friends and family. Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don’t notice him.

10) Like The Stars Above | Explicit | 33,759 words

Louis has a witchy little secret that is slowly ruining his relationship. When that secret comes out, it turns out that he has a lot more to worry about than just losing the love of his life. He might lose everything.

11) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34,589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

12) Just A Pretty Boy | Explicit | 35,614 words

The alpha in front of him wasn’t only tall, but used every inch of his body to look even more threatening. He looked as shocked as Joseph felt, in his eyes he could clearly see horror and anger mixed into an odd and painful mix. It was as if he just watched a ghost or a monster from a nightmare come to life.  “Louis…” he said with a low voice. It wasn’t a question, he was calling Joseph by that name.  The crease between Joseph’s brows deepened. “Who?” Louis and Harry were married until, one day, Louis passed away in a tragic accident. Years later, he is found alive and with a thousand questions plaguing his mind. The most important ones; was his husband involved in his disappearance? And, how long did it take Harry and his best friend to fall in love after his supposed dead?

13) Best Colours For Your Portrait | Explicit | 37,717 words

Louis bites his lip in, his eyes leaving Harry's face, they are cast low as he takes a deep breath before sighing, "In solitude, I felt the liberty you spoke of." "But," The omega glances up, his eyebrows twitching as he brings his face closer to Harry's neck to overpower the alpha's scent with his scent, "I mostly felt your absence."

14) Give Me Love | Explicit | 41,041 words

Despite being an omega, Louis’ always had a blatant dislike of alphas.

15) Letters To June | Explicit | 41,150 words

It's 1915, Europe is in the middle of the Great War. Omega Louis decides to join the Letter Home Project to become someone’s penfriend. Through this he meets a lovely soldier who hasn't got anyone else to send a letter to. Along with his letter, comes a picture of the most handsome alpha Louis has ever seen.

16) Strangers In Love | Explicit | 42,207 words

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

17) This Glass House | Mature | 43,072 words

While deployed, Alpha Harry gets injured by an IED explosion, leaving him to deal with severe injuries in its devastating aftermath. During his road to acceptance and recovery he learns with the help of Louis and their children just how important family can be for the mind, body, and soul.

18) Oubaitori | Explicit | 48,822 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

After a year away, Harry comes back to his hometown ready to shoulder the responsibilities that come with being a Styles. However, an unforeseen return will greatly setback his plans as he finds himself confronting ghosts of the past, his prejudice, and a torrent of feelings he thought were long-buried. In the midst of a battle between protection and progress, trust that was once broken will try and pierce through walls of convictions he built around himself, leaving him grasping for power he is unsure he even wants. Meanwhile, Louis merely tries to save his family and make the next day better than the last. As he faces his past wrongdoings and the scars they left, chances will be granted to him - either to repair what was once broken or finally find closure. Torn between the desire to defend himself and the fear of the truth being rejected, he will learn peace comes from honesty - and that sometimes, what appears to be the easiest solution simply was the most coveted one.

19) Untamed Hearts Align | Explicit | 55,795 words

For as long as Louis has known her, Lady Margaret Tomlinson has had two aspirations for the remaining years of her life. The first was to out-dress the Duchess of Kent at every soirée and gathering. The second was to marry off her omega nephew to the most honorable – and highly ranked – alpha suitor she could find. He does not expect for her to arrange a marriage between him and the crown prince, and he certainly does not expect to fall for him. Everything changes when Harry disappears.

20) If You’re Out There (I’ll Find You Somehow) | Explicit | 55,916 words

Harry looks so intensely into Louis’ eyes it’s as though he’s reaching in and touching his very soul. “I never thought… I never… I’ve been searching for so long, Louis, but I never gave up. I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop trying,” Harry says, bottom lip trembling as he strokes the backs of Louis’ knuckles. “I just knew that if you were out there, I’d find you somehow.”

21) Of Lost Things | Explicit | 57,980 words

Louis comes with a familiarity Harry has never felt with anyone else before. After their fateful meeting, their chemistry became undeniable, and soon after, Harry had felt like he hit the jackpot when it came to finding the person he would spend the rest of his life with. But all relationships come with their own unique problems, and Harry soon realizes that their relationship is no different. When their problems go from unordinary to nearly bizarre in nature, he takes it upon himself to find an answer to their troubles. What he stumbles upon are terrifying coincidences between his and Louis’ story, and the ill-fated mythological couple, Orpheus and Eury. But it’s all they are; just coincidences, ones that feel as frighteningly familiar as Louis. Except… what if none of this is a coincidence? What if everything Harry has always seen as fiction is true, and myth—or rather, history, is about to repeat itself?

22) But We Have Promises To Keep | Mature | 62,608 words

Note: This fic is the fourth part in a series. We'd recommend reading the other fics first, though none of them have smut.

Maybe, Louis thought, from the beginning to the end, he had always known exactly what he wanted. He had always heard it, a quiet song in his head never giving up, because it had never been a thing apart from who he was. Someone who wouldn’t stop. Someone who could walk out into the dark, seeing nothing, having little, and still looking. The undeniable, terrifying, gorgeous truth was always going to be this: that he had a heart, and that that heart wanted to live.

23) Sink Into Your Sunlight | Explicit | 79,601 words

Louis hadn’t forgotten about Harry as much as he tried. It wasn’t due to the strange nature of their meeting, more so the magnetic pull he somehow had on Louis. He couldn’t fathom why this complete stranger stayed in his mind as much as he tried to stop it. Any time his phone sounded his heart skipped a beat at the thought of it possibly being Harry. In all honesty, it made him feel sort of pathetic. Gay guy falls for straight guy, what a cliche he had become.

24) The Rose Of Whitechapel | Mature | 100,180 words

Jack the Ripper AU. Detective Constable Harry Styles and his partner, DC Liam Payne, lead the case on the Whitechapel murders. Louis Tomlinson, the Rose of Whitechapel, is harbouring secrets of his own, along with a dark and sordid past. When their paths cross, truths are revealed, and perhaps hearts are mended... A darkness is brewing, and it's finally come to collect on the promise it was made.

25) Our Endless Numbered Days | Explicit | 120,815 words

“Harry?” whispered Louis, his mouth dry, his nose pressing against the other’s warm skin. “Mh?” Harry’s humming was gentle, his fingers lightly caressing the younger boy’s arm, his chest steadily rising and falling beneath Louis’ cheek. A couple of seconds passed, and Louis looked up at him in the darkness of the cave, barely able to make out the expression on his face. When he tried to inhale deeply, his breath hitched. He struggled to find the words to tell Harry what he was thinking about. Another couple of seconds passed, and Louis listened to the reassuring beating of the prince’s heart beneath his cheek. He couldn’t. “Nothing,” he whispered, his voice weak. I think you’re half of my soul.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[sunnysam-my]

Warning I get a bit politically and frustrated I guess.

One important message to you all. Keep your fucking indoors-outdoors beef outside of the adoption groups, post and shelters. I don't care what side you're on, do not bring it up, because by doing that you are actively harming the chances of the kitten/cat being adopted.

Here, let me explain to you a few concepts that so many people apparently can't graspt:

Not everyone can adopt any cat in need they see. That's just not possible.

Just because someone isn't trapping every single cat outdoors they see doesn't mean they're animal abuser or are single handly responsible for ecological damage.

Not every feral cat can be caught and castrated by a random person with no training or equipment.

Cats born into the wild are not homeless. Do not treat them like strays.

A feral cat is an outdoor, free-roaming cat that has never been socialized to humans and is living in a “wild” state. Because they're not socialized to people, feral cats are not adoptable. If you take them to a shelter, they will almost certainly be killed there.

In the eyes of the law of many countries feral cats born in the wild are not and, by the definition, cannot be homeless as the wilderness is their home. Taking them from their natural habitat and entrapping them in houses is wrong and in same place even illegal.

Feral cats, unlike strays, cannot live a happy life indoors. They often live in groups, called colonies, wherever they can find food. They are happier in their own territory with their colony family.

Stray cats on the other hand were once pets and are lost or abandoned. They will try to make a home near humans in garages, porches or backyards, because they relay on human help.

Not every wild-born kitten will be feral, in fact most won't, and not every feral cat can't be tamed, some can go through process of socialising to make the adoptable. That's not up to you to decided tho, unless you met the cat and know your shit.

Because people where I live (Poland) found this simple concept so hard to understand, animal shelters around me no longer accept cats from private people, only from organisations and authorities, since so many of them were people's outdoors pets and feral cats. This already makes it harder to help cats in need.

But the real problem I have is something that happens more and more nowadays and even happend to my family. A feral cat, who lives in our forest and we're trying to tame, gave birth to 7 kittens on our farm and left them in our care. Only two of 7 were feral and strong enough to live in the wild, so we tried to find homes for the rest. Upon mentioning they were born from a feral living close us we were blocked from every single adoption group. The reason? We apparently were 'abusers and breeders', because we tried to help kittens who would 100% died if left alone, instead of focusing on somehow finding cats that lives somewhere in the giant woods, capturing them with no equipment and driving with them 2h+ to make them go through abortion and castration that most of them probably wouldn't even survive. Yeah.

BTW we never found homes to those kittens, because of crazy indoor cat ladies that would shit on every single post of ours and got us blocked. Obviously we didn't leave the cats alone, considering only one in five feral kittens will live to five months of age. We were forced to travel with them 4 hours and keep them in our small house with 3 other adult cats that were not happy about the situation. Eventually we gave one to my Uncle, one was left at the vet to find home (she did), and the last one stayed.

So, for the love of God, regardless if you think cats should be indoors or outdoors DO NOT FUCKING ARGUE ABOUT IT UNDER SOMEONE "FOR ADOPTION" POSTS. Even if you're right. Do not try to bring feral cats to shelters. Do not make it some random person responsibility to deal with feral cats. If you really care about those outdoors, stray and feral cats then research the topic and try advocating for change with how we handle wild-born kittens and castration of feral cats, because right now, depending on where you live, the authorities will most probably only maybe check on them and give them food.

In case I haven't made it clear, I do not think feral cats should be just left alone, even if they shouldn't be adopted.

[crybabyddl]

Tell Him

Mean!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader x Eddie Munson

Warning: smut, threesome, references to cheating, mentions of manipulation, unhealthy relationship dynamics, voyeurism, cuckolding, sir kink, male masturbation, cum swallowing, degradation, praise, hair pulling, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, swearing, humiliation, face slapping, spit kink, dacryphilia, pet names, name calling, single use of the word daddy (sorry!), modern setting, 18+ content. MDNI.

Author's Note: Can you tell I'm desperate for some debauchery? I need help. I hope you enjoy my first ever steddie x reader! For some reason, tumblr doesn't want me to indent my paragraphs or dialogue, so I apologize for that. I tried to redo it like, 3 times already, so I'm just gonna leave it. :(

--

"What the hell happened?" Steve runs a hand through his hair. "I was gone for like, five seconds!"

"Relax, man. It was an accident. I was chasing Y/N around the house and she slid and bumped into the end table." Eddie quickly comes to your defense, which you were grateful for. You didn't know if you could handle the embarrassment of admitting your mistake.

Steve eyes you questioningly, silently asking you if that was the case. You nodded, but averted your gaze downward, the wooden floorboards suddenly becoming extremely intriguing.

"God damn it. That was my late grandmother's. One of the only things I have to remember her by." The chestnut-haired man sighs dramatically, pacing in a circle before inhaling through his nose and putting his hands on his hips in annoyance.

"I'm so sorry Steve, I-"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Woah, Harrington," Eddie says, dumbfounded. "It was an accident. You don't need to make her feel any worse about it."

The metalhead knew better than to lay a hand on his friend's shoulder, despite the idea running through his head. Steve had been garnering quite the temper as of late, but Eddie hadn't yet figured out why.

"Don't tell me what to fucking do, Munson. I don't need advice from a low-life loser like you."

This was getting way too intense.

"Listen, man. Why don't you go outside and take a minute to cool off?" Eddie took an urging step forward, hoping it would convince Steve to do the rational thing.

"Why don't you and her go fuck yourselves," Steve took a bigger step, now chest to chest with the guy who was his best friend all of three minutes ago. "Or just go fuck each other. Isn't that what you two do now?"

"Sorry, what?" you piped up.

"Don't play dumb, Y/N, it doesn't suit you. You think I don't notice the way you look at each other?"

"Excuse me? Steve, I know I fucked up, but you're crossing a very weird, and frankly disrespectful line and I would appreciate it if you apologized."

"Yeah. Breaking a vase doesn't mean you get to berate us and accuse us of... having sex?"

The room was quiet for a brief, but anxiety-inducing moment.

"Wait, you guys aren't having sex?"

"No! What would even give you that idea? She's your girlfriend!"

"You two have been hanging out a lot more lately, and I just thought that-"

"Well you thought wrong, asswipe. I may not be having sex with Eddie, but I won't be having sex with you, either."

You stormed upstairs, completely done with the situation at hand.

"Y/N, wait. Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Steve attempted to go after you in an attempt to talk it through, but Eddie pulled him back by his forearm.

"Give her some space. You just flipped on her for breaking a piece of glass and accused her of cheating on you."

"But I-"

"Hate me all you want, but you know I'm right."

Steve went into the kitchen to get a glass of water, while Eddie went to find the broom and dustpan.

After cleaning up the broken glass, Eddie made his way upstairs. He found you on you and Steve's bed, face down on the comforter, sobbing.

"Hey, it's me. You gonna be okay?" you felt the bed dip as Eddie sat beside you, running a soothing hand up and down your back.

You flipped over and sat up, using the heel of your hand to wipe the tears from under your eyes.

"Yeah," you sniffled. "I guess so. I just don't know what's gotten into him lately. He's been so short with me, and nothing I say or do makes it better."

"He has been a real jerk, hasn't he?" The question was rhetorical, but you nodded. "Why don't we go get some ice cream? Give him some space to think. Give us some time away from that meanie. How 'bout it?"

Eddie clapped his palm down on your thigh.

It was done with the innocent intention of encouraging you to forget about your problems and have some fun with your friend, but it ignited a buzzing that went straight to your chest. It was hard to ignore, but you did your best to push it to the side.

"Uh, yeah. That sounds great. Let me just put on some actual clothes and I'll meet you downstairs."

"Sounds good," Eddie went to leave the room, about to shut the door behind him, but he stopped, turning to face you and resting his hand on the doorframe. "And don't even think of bringing your wallet. My treat, you hear me?"

His smile was making your heart race.

You always knew Eddie was an attractive guy, but why was he suddenly so alluring to you?

You shook your head in an attempt to rid the thought, but played it off as an act of amusement at his kind offer, laughing as you looked down at your lap.

"Thanks, Ed."

"Of course."

With that, he left you to get changed. As you pulled off your pajama shorts, you wondered if Steve's accusation was to blame for the lens you were currently seeing Eddie in. Whatever it was, you hoped it would pass. In the meantime however, you would use it to your advantage. If Steve was so sure that you were making eyes at Eddie right under his nose, why not let him be right?

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Where?"

"Ice cream. Don't wait up."

That's all you said to Steve before heading out the door, rounding Eddie's van to get to the passenger's side.

The drive to the ice cream parlor was short and quiet, save for the Metallica CD that softly played in the background as Eddie drove.

Once you arrived, Eddie told you to get anything you'd like. You told him you wanted a vanilla milkshake and he ordered it for you, along with a mint chocolate one for himself.

"Feeling a little better?" He asked, handing you a napkin and pointing to the left corner of his mouth. You wiped the same spot on yourself, nodding in appreciation.

"Yeah, definitely. Thanks again, Eddie."

"Sure thing, sweetness."

The nickname was nothing new, but it felt different than the other times you'd hear it coming from his mouth. His dark brown eyes quickly flickered down to his cup. He took a somewhat large sip.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

Eddie's gaze returned to you, his eyebrows holding slight concern.

"Why do you call me 'sweetness'?"

"Oh, well, because you're always so kind," he scratched the back of his neck. "So, uh, sweet." he gave a small, yet awkward smile.

"Fair enough. Can I ask you one other thing?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Would you want to help me get back at Steve for his little tantrum earlier?"

This practically made Eddie's ears perk up. He was a sucker for practical jokes, especially ones against Steve.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking about what he said, about how he sees the way we 'look at each other'. So why not prove him right? Why don't we make him think we've got the hots for each other?"

"What, like make him jealous?"

"Yeah, something like that. Really play it up. Act like you've been my boyfriend this whole time instead of him."

The look on Eddie's face is one of confusion and slight concern.

"I don't know if that's the best idea, Y/N. You saw how mad he was earlier, and that was without any evidence. Just imagine how pissed he'd be if you started acting extra sweet on me in front of him."

"Yeah, that's kinda the point."

Eddie sets down his milkshake on the picnic table you're sitting at and puts a leveling hand on your shoulder.

"I know you're mad at him, but you're not thinking rationally. All this would do is cause more hurt than there already is. Look, I get it. I really do. You want to make him feel what you felt so that you can call it even, but it doesn't work like that."

"He disrespected you too, Eddie. You're really going to let someone who's supposed to be your best friend get away with slinging harmful accusations at you and calling you names?"

"He didn't mean any of it, he was just angry at the time and-"

"Damn it, Eddie! He called you a low-life loser. That sounds like more than the usual 'dickhead' that gets thrown your way when the two of you bicker. You can't have him thinking it's okay to hurl insults at you just because he's mad about something."

"He doesn't mean it though. He wouldn't still have me around if he really felt that way."

"Well, if I know Steve, I'm assuming things only get resolved once you've apologized."

"Well, yeah. How else are thing gonna get be-"

"Has he ever once apologized to you?"

"Sure he has."

"Oh yeah? When?"

You can see Eddie searching his brain, flipping through each sour memory of him and his supposed 'best friend' arguing over trivial, and not-so-trivial things. He sighs defeatedly, proving your point.

"Okay, maybe he's not one to own up to his mistakes. But it's different with guys. We don't get vulnerable like that unless it's absolutely necessary. He apologized to you earlier."

You took a sip of your milkshake.

"Yeah, but that was only after he realized I wasn't gonna have sex with him."

"That can't be the reason why he apologized. Steve wouldn't do that."

"Steve wouldn't do that? The same Steve that used to leave girls on the curb if they didn't put out on the first date? That Steve?"

"He's not that guy anymore, and deep down, you know that."

"You sure? Because just last week he threatened to leave me at the mall because I didn't want to have sex in the changing room at Urban Outfitters."

"Jesus, Y/N. I didn't know he did that."

"Yeah. Not to mention the time I had to take a bus home after going to the movies because I told him he couldn't finger me during the Barbie movie."

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry, I had no idea. What a fucking dick."

"I had a talk with him on Thursday about his temper, and he said he'd work on it. But after the stunt he pulled today, he deserves what's coming to him."

"Are you going to break up with him?"

"I thought about it, but I realized that he's only acting this way because he feels emasculated. I think that the whole 'King Steve' thing really messed with his ego, and now that that's gone, he feels inferior. So me denying him what he wants makes him feel even worse," you both got up and threw out your empty milkshake cups before walking over to the van. "But if I just leave him to handle that himself, he won't. He'll think it's okay and that I'll forgive him if it happens again. I've already made that mistake, so it's time I tried something else."

Eddie opens the door for you, and closes it before getting in on the driver's side. He buckles and turns the key, engine roaring to life.

"I totally support you teaching him a lesson, but I don't want to hurt him."

"Trust me when I say he'll be just fine. Sure, he'll be pissed, but he knows he deserves it and it'll put him in his place if he sees me giving you the attention he could be getting if he acted right."

"I don't know, Y/N."

"You'd be doing me a huge favor. Besides, is he really that far off the mark? You're an attractive guy. I've known that you've had a thing for me for a while now. I was too distracted by all this bullshit with Steve, but now I realize I have a thing for you too."

Eddie's eyes nearly pop out of his head.

"You do?" his cheeks are red, and when you reach out to caress his face, the skin is warm to the touch.

"I do. Now, here's what's gonna happen..."

--

As soon as you and Eddie get through the doorway, Steve's springing up from the couch and clambering around the furniture that stands in his way of you.

"Hey, listen, I just wanted to apologi-"

"Save it."

"Just hear me out, please. The only reason I freaked out so much was because I thought you and Munson were foolin' around."

With a newer, clearer lens on the situation, Eddie can't stand to listen to the excuses Steve pulls out of his ass.

"Jesus Christ, Harrington."

"What?" he crosses his arms.

"Nothing. I just thought you'd know better than to keep spewing this bullshit."

"And what bullshit am I spewing, exactly? What did you tell him, Y/N?" Steve looks over to you with a scowl, and you can't be bothered to hide the tiny smirk that plays on your lips.

Luckily, Steve had already redirected his pointed gaze back toward Eddie.

"She told me enough."

"Eddie, it's okay," you put a hand on his chest, calming his pretend anger. "I can handle it."

The action didn't go unnoticed by Steve, but he chooses to save his questions for another time, because you're taking a hold of his hands and telling him you forgive him. You share an eskimo kiss to really seal the deal.

"Thank you, darling. I knew you'd understand. Why don't we go upstairs and have some alone time, hm?"

He was falling perfectly into you and Eddie's well-laid trap.

"Oh, I'd love to Stevie, but I promised Eddie we'd watch an episode of Fallout." you give him a sympathetic look, one that you know will make him lose his mind trying to keep his composure as you break his expectations.

"Oh, well, okay. Whatever makes you happy, princess." You see him curling and uncurling his fists.

Eddie notices too, and shoots you an amused look.

"You're free to join us if you'd like," he says with an air of self-satisfaction. "We're cool, right?"

"Sure. We're cool." Steve's response is through gritted teeth, but you had to admit he was doing a great job keeping his cool compared to how volatile he was earlier.

You and Steve make your way to the couch, holding hands. But just as you sit down, Eddie announces he's going to the kitchen to make some popcorn.

Steve turns to you in hopes of stealing a quick kiss, but before he can, you've sprung up from your spot on the sofa.

"I can help!"

Just as you're about to prance over to where Eddie stood behind the counter, Steve's grip on your hand tightens, preventing you from walking any further from him.

"It's just popcorn, babe. Not a two man job." he tugs you back down on the couch, pressing a kiss to your temple.

A few moments later, Eddie's making his way back into the living room with three bowls of popcorn, setting each one down on the coffee table. He goes to sit in the recliner, making a show of plopping down in the chair and letting out a relaxed sigh.

"Eddie, honey, there's plenty of room over here! Why don't you come sit with us?"

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get a word out, Steve's taking the floor.

"He just sat down, don't make him get up- don't get up on her account, Munson."

"It's cool, man. The couch is way comfier. Besides, I wouldn't want to waste an opportunity to spend some time with my favorite girl."

Eddie's wearing a shit-eating grin as he sidles up to the couch, taking a seat right next to you. He leans all the way back, forcing Steve to remove his arm from around your shoulders.

"Your what-now?"

You looked over at Eddie, who--by the smile on his face--definitely caught the words grumbled under Steve's breath.

Throughout the nearly hour-long episode, you and Eddie would toss popcorn into each other's mouths, grab a hold of each other's arms when you laughed at a funny moment, and even leaned against each other when you were "feeling tired". Little actions that were amped up to look as flirtatious as possible to rile Steve up.

The whole time, Steve had a hold of your thigh, squeezing it and nudging you with his elbow while pointing to the screen to try and draw your attention back to the show. You'd shown him bits of affection in order to keep him baited on the hook, but you were much more generous with Eddie.

Once the episode ended, you grabbed the empty popcorn bowls and brought them to the kitchen and placed them in the dishwasher.

Steve took your bent-over state to his advantage, pressing himself up behind you.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Can I help you?"

"What, I can't express to my girlfriend how hot and sexy I find her?"

"You can, but Eddie's still here. It's not appropriate to do that while we have a guest."

"A guest? Since when is Munson considered a guest? Besides, he's in the bathroom; he takes ten days to finish up in there. How 'bout you and I do a load of laundry?"

He lifts you up onto the island, bunching your skirt in his fists and pushing the fabric up to your hips before gripping them tightly.

"Steve, not while Eddie's here."

"Are you still mad at me? Is that what this is?"

"No, I just don't feel like doing anything while he's here."

"You sure? Because you didn't seem to mind having him around when we were watching TV."

"We were watching a show, Steve. There's a difference between watching a show and fucking me on top of the dryer."

"I'll give you a show."

"Shit. Am I interrupting something?" Eddie's timing was nothing short of miraculous, having caught you two in quite the compromising position.

You tried to slide off the kitchen island, but Steve blocked you from doing so.

"Not at all, Eddie! We-"

"Yeah, actually. You are."

"Sh-should I go?"

"No, Eddie, please don't go!" you made sure to sound desperate, as if there was something Eddie had that you needed--and you supposed there was.

This was seemingly the last straw for Steve. Hook, line.

"Why do you want him here so bad? Isn't it enough you went out for ice cream with him?"

"Steve, it's not like that. I-"

"Oh, it isn't? Then what is it, huh?"

"I'm gonna see myself out." Eddie moves to grab his jacket off the back of the recliner.

"No." Steve yells sternly. "You're gonna stay right here and watch me as I show you what's mine."

"Steve!" you hissed in protest.

He ignored you while he removed your shirt. It wasn't until he pulled your panties down and sucked a couple hickeys into your collarbones that he responded.

"You want him so bad? Well here you go. He gets to watch me fuck your brains out. How's that for a show?"

"I don't know if I-"

"You're gonna stay right there if you know what's good for you, Munson." Steve gave a look that made chills form on the back of Eddie's neck.

"Okay," he rocked on his heels awkwardly, giving a tight-lipped expression. "Guess I'll stay here."

"You know what? No. Get your ass over here."

Eddie obeyed the man's order, timidly approaching the kitchen island. He didn't bother averting his eyes from your chest, your push-up bra leaving him wishing he could kiss the tops of your breasts. Thinking about sucking your nipples between his teeth made him strain against his pants.

"Eddie, don't listen to him, if you want to leave, feel free."

"Darling, I love you, but shut the fuck up before I spank your ass into next week."

Your parted lips closed at the vague threat, hoping it would satisfy the anger-driven madman that stood before you.

"You shouldn't talk to her like that. She's a lady, she deserves respect. Ain't that right, sweet girl?" Eddie comes to your defense, causing your heart--and pussy--to flutter as Steve shoves two fingers past your lips, telling you to suck them.

"Ha! What would you know about respecting women? You can't even get a chick to blow you after one of your lame-ass gigs."

"I know enough to get your girlfriend wet."

Steve pulls his fingers out of your mouth and uses his other hand to swipe your slit. When his fingers come back to his line of sight with your slick, he storms over to Eddie, grabs him by his arm and hauls him over to where the two of you were situated. Steve begins to play with your breasts, tugging and twisting at your nipples in a way that has you feeling desperate for more.

"If you're so good at making my girl wet, why don't you finish the job? You wanna make her cum? Be my fucking guest."

Something about the commanding tone of Steve's voice has Eddie hanging onto his every word, excitedly anticipating what he'll demand next.

"Fuck." Eddie can't suppress the groan that tumbles from his lips at the thought of getting you off with his own fingers.

But before he can do just that, Steve grabs you from the counter, carrying you up the stairs, Eddie following close behind, and practically tosses you onto the bed. Your boyfriend manhandles you with a gentle, yet strong force as he positions you on your hands and knees.

He takes off his shirt and unzips his pants, pulling them down along with his briefs.

"You gonna be a good little slut for me?" Steve grabs your face with one hand, causing your lips to pucker for him.

You nod.

"Yes, yes sir."

"Sir?" Eddie says incredulously.

He wasn't expecting that.

"Is there a problem?" Steve shoots a glare in Eddie's direction.

"No, no, not at all," Steve arches an eyebrow, eyeing Eddie in a way that makes his cock twitch. "Sir."

"That's what I thought. Now, get over here and make her cum until she cries."

You'd gotten Steve right where you wanted him. Hook, line, and sinker.

Eddie wastes no time, going to the opposite side of the bed and feeling up your ass. You feel like you're high, floating on the feeling of someone new touching you so intimately, but you're brought back to Earth with a harsh tug on your hair, bringing your face flush with Steve's stomach.

"I don't have all day. Make yourself useful, whore."

You kiss down Steve's happy trail, your body hot with desire. Eddie's still fondling and squeezing your butt. But just as you start licking Steve's swollen cock, his best friend's hand comes down onto your ass, eliciting a moan that makes Eddie's cock swell unbearably against his jeans.

He undoes the button and zipper, bending down to free his ankles from the suddenly all-too-restricting fabric. He takes off his boxers next, and decides to forego his shirt as well, leaving him in just his socks, his rings, and the guitar pick suspended around his neck.

Steve decides you've had enough time to fool around, and forces his hard-on into your mouth. He allows you to acclimate to the size, bobbing your head up and down in short strokes, using your hand to pump what wasn't enveloped by your soft lips. It's then that Eddie presses a ringed finger against your slit, causing you to gasp.

Steve uses this opportunity to shove his dick farther down your throat. You can feel him so far down, as if you were trying to swallow him entirely. You gag, causing saliva to pool in your mouth. But it only makes you that much more eager to please him. You know your limits, and you take him as far as you can without gagging every time.

"See, this is what you're good for. Not making the moves on Munson; sucking my dick until you cream yourself. You like taking my dick like a slut?"

You moan around his length.

"God, you are so fucking good at that. Too bad you're such a fucking bitch to deal with."

"Is he being mean to you, sweetness?" you can only hum in response, Steve creating a relentless rhythm with your head. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, you'll forget all about that asshole."

Eddie pushes a finger into your wetness, the cool metal of his ring heightening the sensation.

In an act of defiance, you pull away from Steve and crawl towards Eddie, pulling him into a heated kiss. You're on your knees in front of him as your tongues swipe along each other's lips, and you can't resist the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair.

"God, Eddie. Want you to fuck me so bad."

He gropes your breasts, barely even registering when Steve fixes your hair.

"That so? Want me to make Harrington watch as I give you what you've been missin'?" Eddie looks to your boyfriend, who just shrugs nonchalantly, giving him the go-ahead.

"Please, Eddie. Need you in me."

"Shh, I'm getting there. Just be patient, angel. Think you can do that for me?"

You nod as Eddie takes one of your nipples into his mouth, your heading fall back in ecstasy. He's supporting your back while his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, making sure to give each breast equal attention.

"You have the most beautiful tits I've ever seen." his praises only strengthen your desire.

Eddie kisses down your torso, sparking little fires along the trail of his lips. When he reaches your pubic bone, your hips buck involuntarily, causing him to chuckle at your eagerness.

"Sorry Eddie, I-"

"No, no need to be sorry sweetness. Just wanna make you feel good. I'm right here. 'S'it okay if I taste you?"

"F-fuck, yeah."

That's all Eddie needs to hear before lifting the hood of your clit and placing a gentle kiss upon it. His lips are so soft and it feels like he's connected you to a live wire. As much as he wanted to take his time and savor you, he can't help but lick at your pussy like a man starved.

His tongue is still languid despite his fervor, and you feel your orgasm creeping up.

"Eddie, you're gonna make me cum."

"Cool it, Munson. She's not a lollipop." Steve remarks as he jerks himself with his fist.

Eddie reluctantly detaches his mouth from you, his lips shiny with your arousal.

"She tastes just like one," he runs a hand over your hair. "Did so good for me, angel."

"Are you that much of a whore that you'll let Munson taste your pussy?" Steve grabs you by the shoulder, making you face him.

"He's better at it than you are."

"Oh," Steve looks like he's ready to chop Eddie's tongue off. "Well if he's so good with his mouth, why don't I have him do what you couldn't?"

"Stevie, what are you-"

"I'm sorry, who?" his eyes were practically ablaze.

"Baby, I promise I'll do a better job this time."

Steve yanks you by your hair, lowering his face to meet yours.

"Open that dirty mouth," he orders. "Do it. Now, bitch."

You comply, parting your lips. You're expecting him to shove his dick in your mouth, but when he stands up straight, he spits onto your tongue.

"Swallow," you close your lips. "I said swallow." He punctuates his demand with a harsh slap to your face.

You swallow.

"So you can follow orders," Steve turns his attention towards his friend. "On your knees, freak. Don't make me say it twice."

Eddie feels compelled to heed his words, moving to stand by Steve before dropping to his knees.

"I've never done this before. What do I-"

"Oh, shut up. If that cum slut can do it, so can you," Steve tilts Eddie's chin up with his thumb and forefinger. "You'll probably do even better, 'specially with that big mouth of yours."

The man on his knees is left speechless as his best friend reaches down and tugs his bottom lip.

"C'mere and kiss me, baby."

You inch closer to Steve, kissing his lips before leaving tiny pecks along his jaw and all over his face and neck. You let your tongue trace the shell of his ear, tugging gently with your teeth. Meanwhile, Eddie's taking Steve with no problem.

"Fuck, Stevie. That is so hot. Oh my god." you're breathless as you watch Eddie deepthroat your boyfriend like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

He's gagging, but it doesn't stop him from taking Steve's cock like a fleshlight. He reaches up to fondle his balls, earning a whiny groan.

"Yeah, just like that. You got it," Steve encourages, gripping Eddie's hair tightly as he fucks his mouth at a relentless pace. "Just imagine what your little nerd friends would think, if they saw their precious Dungeon Master on his knees sucking off King Steve."

Eddie moans desperately around Steve's cock.

"Sir, don't tease him. He's giving you what you want, isn't he?"

Steve scoffs.

"Certainly better than you ever did, but giving me what I want isn't a favor. That's the bare minimum. Though, I didn't expect you to know that, dumb slut."

Steve is close to the edge, and with a series of intense bobs of Eddie's head, he's cumming on his face.

"Yeah, take my cum like a pathetic little bitch. So fucking obedient for me, aren't you?"

"Yes sir," Steve looks at him with conviction as the last drop of his cum lands on the metalhead's chin. "ThAnk you, sir." Eddie didn't mean for his voice to crack, but it seems to satisfy Steve, a smug smirk resting upon his lips.

Eddie grabs his underwear to wipe his face. While his eyes are blinded by the fabric of his boxers, a firm hand grasps his dick.

"Since you did such a good job being my little bitch, I'll let you fuck her. How's that sound? You wanna show her how a freak like you abuses a tight cunt like hers?"

"God, please."

"You're pathetic. How 'bout you beg some more, dumbass?"

"Fuck," Eddie whines eagerly. "Please sir, let me fuck her, please!"

"Go ahead. You clearly need it more than I do."

Eddie joins you on the bed, immediately kissing your lips with desperation. He reaches down to draw his fingers along your pussy, pressing his rings against the heated skin.

"You have no idea how badly I've wanted this."

"Fuck, Eddie." you mewl as he collects your wetness on his index finger and nudges it against your clit.

"Want me to make you cum, sweet girl?"

"Yes. Please God, fuck yes!" you cry out as he plunges a finger into your wet cunt.

"Is Munson your God now? Gonna make you squirt all over his fingers like an easy, useless whore?"

"Please, Master. I'll be so good, I promise!"

"Oh, you sweet, pretty thing. Of course. I'll give you anything you want as long as you keep being a good girl for me." He continues pumping his finger, and right before your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, you seem him attach his mouth to your clit.

"Fuck! Eddie!"

"Hold it, Munson." Steve barks.

Eddie halts his movements, causing you to whine at the loss of contact.

"His name isn't Eddie, you know that," Steve lectures you before turning his attention to his friend. "You can't let her get away with that. If she doesn't call you by your name, she doesn't get a damn thing. Got it?" Eddie nods. "Good. Now like I said, make her cum until she cries."

"Yes sir."

"Good boy."

That made Eddie's dick dribble with pre-cum. He used the pearl of his seed to lubricate your cunt, sliding his tip along your slit.

"Gonna be a tight fit, angel. You ready?"

"Doesn't matter if she's ready. Stick it in."

Eddie listens to Steve's command, sheathing his dick inside you. He's stretching you out in a painful, yet blissfully dizzying way.

"God, fuck. So big."

"Christ, you're so warm and tight. Shit, it's so nice and wet, practically suffocating me."

"Pull it out, freak," Steve instructs, his tone a bit kinder, but still stern. "There you go. Now slap it against her clit. She loves that."

Eddie's cock is covered in your juices as he taps the tip of his cock against your pussy, making a deliciously wet slapping sound. You whine at the stimulation, earning praises from your boyfriend's best friend.

"You look so precious like this, sweetheart. Doing so good for me, so good." Eddie positions himself so he can line himself up at with your entrance, allowing your pussy to swallow his dick.

He sets a faster pace than before, taking you by surprise. He's pressing kisses to your forehead as he strokes and rubs circles into your clit with his fingers.

"Please, Master."

"What is it, angel?"

"Don't stop. Please, God, don't stop. F-feels so good." You're moaning after each sentence, your words slurring together.

"You getting cock-drunk from Munson's pencil dick?" Steve berated. Eddie's dick was anything but a pencil. "Like getting fucked by a freak? Loser whore. Just an easy slut, letting a loser pound you like a cocksleeve."

"Fuck, fuck! Please, Master."

"I'm close, sweetness. Just a bit longer, okay? You can do it." Eddie's gripping your hips as he fucks into you at a brutal pace.

"You better pull out." Steve warns, smacking your tits with the back of his hand. He pinches your nipples harshly between his fingers.

"I will- fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Eddie is brutally pistoning in and out of you, the sight and sound of your skin slapping getting Steve hard again. Eddie squeezes his hand around your throat, releasing his grip after you moan at the feeling of lightheadedness.

"I'm gonna cum, daddy."

"Daddy? Shit, baby. Cum on my cock."

The coil within you snaps and you feel yourself squirting as your cunt convulses around him.

"Fuck!" you whine, tears flowing from your eyes as Eddie continues to have his way with you.

"Shit, shit, shit! Fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

Eddie quickly pulls out, lightly slapping your pussy before releasing on your chest with a strangled whimper.

After giving you a few minutes to come down from your highs, Steve speaks up.

"Alright, you two go take a shower, I'll change the sheets."

"Come on, sweetness. I'll help you." Eddie picks you up, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom.

After you finish showering, Steve rinses himself off. You all end up falling asleep in the king-sized bed, limbs tangled around each other.

--

please reblog, like, and/or comment if you enjoyed! :)

[ohtobeleah]

Noun. "Bare Minimum" The smallest possible quantity or the least fulfilling, but still adequate, condition that is required, acceptable, or suitable for some purpose.

“I can't be with someone who's not willing to compromise Y/n.” It had been Bradley Bradshaw's way of telling you that he hated your dedication to your own career. You hadn't even bothered to lift your head from your textbook, still working away at writing out your latest set of study cards. It infuriated him to no end. “Are you even listening?” 

“I mean what exactly is there to listen to Bradley?” You sighed, finally lifting your head up to reveal your broken, teary eyes. “You don't wanna be with someone who wants to be just as successful as you.” 

“That's not what I meant and you know it.” Bradley hissed back at you as he leaned in further across the table you were sitting at in your apartment. Your textbooks, scrap paper, and laptop in the middle of the pair of yours as always. Your dining table had been your designated study zone for as long as you'd been studying to take the bar exam. “All I'm trying to say is spending all your spare time studying isn't doing us any favours.”

“Bradley.” You felt horrible, like you were trying to breathe in quicksand. “I love you, with all my heart baby I really do, but if you can't support me while I'm doing this after I supported you through the academy and your flight training and all the deployments under the sun then what the hell are we even still doing talking about this?” it felt like your entire world was shattering into a million pieces around you. 

You'd been with Bradley Bradshaw since junior year of highschool. He was the very definition of the love of your life. But ever since you started your law degree, he couldn't have been less supportive if he tried. You weren't sure if he was doing it unintentionally or if he really just didn't want to see you thrive in an industry that wasn't hospitality. 

“I guess I don't know either.” Bradley replied coldly, he thought he caught your bluff but as it turns out you were as serious as ever. You didn't want to be with someone who wasn't going to be by your side every step of the way. “Ill uh–I'll see myself out then.” 

“Yeah, fine.” Was all you could muster up the courage to say. Watching as your bottom lip quivered and your heart ached as Bradley left your apartment, shutting the door on you and your heart. “Fuck–” It was a sob laced with anguish that escaped as you let your forehead fall to the table, crying into the sleeves of the jumper of bradleys you wore that smelt like him. 

You remembered that night well when you heard his name again five years later from the woman who sat across from you in your office. Mrs bradshaw, well–soon to be Miss Ericson again. She’d hired you to be her divorce attorney. The minute you had seen his name on top of the paperwork and heard his name you couldn't help but to stifle a laugh. 

“Is there something wrong?” 

“No, no, nothings wrong–” You could have mentioned that there was a slight conflict of interest, you could have mentioned that Bradley had been the only man you ever loved and still did love. But you didn't, because you had been given a chance to get even. Get revenge. “I'll make sure you walk away with everything Mrs Bradshaw.” You smiled, reaching out to grab her hand. “Everything and then some.” 

You were going to ruin his life.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Author Note: Just an idea that’s been floating around in my head.

[evilwickedme]

So I did just block the anon who told me to get help bc of my magneto was right title which, more than anything else, tells me they're not familiar with the comics

But also. Trying to tell me, a Jewish comics fan who specifically specializes in the Jewish history of comic books, that Magneto is antisemitic, actually, because he was made into a Jew by a "gentle" in 1975 (which isn't even true), is so wildly a misrepresentation of what his character means in fucking 2023 that it baffled me. Like I considered answering the ask because it was like, ok this is a teachable moment. But like also fuck that guy so.

But here's the thing about magneto is that obviously he's wrong, in that killing people is wrong and in some cases he's basically represented as a terrorist. But he's also obviously right, in that it's literally been proven in the house of x storyline that mutants will never be accepted, will always be hunted and hated, and mutants can and should defend themselves against that. I'll remind you that, although genosha was far from a success, the basic idea of mutants having their own island country is essentially the exact fucking same as krakoa, which is the current wildly successful x men storyline!!!!

And that's ignoring the fact that the magneto was right slogan was born when magneto was dead, and wasn't meant to support any particular action he made, but rather general ideas as I presented them above, and then beyond that, the fact that many Jews in particular identify with the slogan because we've been persecuted and hated for being different for three thousand fucking years, and that in 2023 in particular, after seven years of an increasing rise of antisemitism, having that as the title of my blog is just pointing out the fucking obvious

(this also leaves out the context of when I, in particular, started using the title, and the content of my blog at the time, and the fact that I've had this particular pfp for about as long, and the way all three of those tie in together, but I have no doubt that the person who sent me this ask is not a long time follower of this blog. About two thirds of my followers either already followed me or followed me because of that phase in my life though, and the rest have most likely seen me refer to it multiple times, so that context is not lost on most of them)

Basically. Magneto is a character who, at first, was not very complex. But no character can stick around for sixty years without becoming complex and taking on meaning that was not necessarily intended by the original creator. At this point magneto has been a Jewish Holocaust survivor for nearly five decades, as this anon themself pointed out. He's been handled by Jewish and goyische authors alike. And pretending he's purely an antisemitic character rather than one that many Jews actively cherish and identify with and show in so many ways that you, yourself, are not Jewish, and don't have any idea what you're talking about just so you can send anonymous hate my way...

Well. Point is. Magneto was right.

[dreadsuitsamus]

Caring For Sick Vegeta Headcanons | Vegeta x Reader |

author's note: hi again! this is inspired by some squabbling i did with a friend earlier as he was suffering from a migraine. i wanted to try my hand at headcanons again as well!

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

warnings: light mention of nsfw topics, like blink and you'll miss it light

Vegeta initially tries to hide that he's getting sick

he's very fucking bad at it tho

His nose is stuffed and he's forced to breathe through his mouth, and you can literally hear the congestion when he talks

He looks so tired, and his appetite is literally halved

"Vegeta, get back in bed." You tell him when he shuffles into the kitchen for breakfast

He may be sick, but he's still Vegeta

Which is to say he's still stubborn as hell

"How dare you talk to me that way?! I am-"

"You are pissing me off." You growl, picking up the nearest kitchen utensil and holding it up threateningly

This is the only time Vegeta wisely picks his battles

He growls and turns around to go back to the bedroom, bundling up in the blankets

"I'm cold, woman." He says when you come into the room with a tray of breakfast for him

You shove a beanie on him that you had specially made just for him, since the store bought ones didn't have a chance in hell of fitting over his mane of hair

he's also just got a big head

Vegeta sneers at you but remains quiet. He knows he looks like a damn fool, but with a bright red nose, there isn't much he can do to seem like more of the prideful, powerful Saiyan he is

You bundle him up properly in the many blankets, fluffing the pillows behind him so he can sit up and relax while he eats

"You call this a meal for a Saiyan?" He snarks. "Looks like an appetizer to the appetizer."

lol @ him not finishing it all

"You... Wouldn't bully a sick man, would you?" His cheeks are flushed with embarrassment

"Of course not." You smirk and kiss his cheek. "But I certainly will bully a shit-talking prince."

"Please no."

You give him shit for only eating two pieces of toast and half of his eggs and bacon even after he's all better

and subsequently has the strength again to make you regret it

You catch him trying to sneak out of bed to go train, so you quite literally tackle him back into bed

"What... What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Stay. In. Bed. Vegeta." You straddle him and pin his wrists down. "I am not doing this with you this time. Keep your ass down until you can breathe through your damn nose. Are we clear??"

Vegeta blinks up at you, eyes wide

he's so goddamn hard rn

"Yes... Yes ma'am."

"Thank you." You hiss back and get off of him and go back to the kitchen to prepare his soup

he rubs one out while you're gone

He becomes a stage five clinger when he's sick

He whines if you're gone for too long, or after he wakes up from a lengthy nap and feels lonely

With that in mind, you tend to stay in bed with him. He likes to snuggle his head on your lap and wrap his arms around your torso while he snoozes

You run your fingers through his hair and usually watch a show while you cuddle your sick husband

He's adorable when he sleeps, occasionally adjusting and squeezing you tight, rubbing his face into your tummy before settling down again

He doesn't know why he gets so many sweet kisses when he does wake up, all groggy and confused about why he dreamt of riding Space Mountain with Goku

But he's certainly not complaining about the kisses

When Vegeta starts to feel better is when he starts to relish in being taken care of

He'll welcome all of his meals in bed and enjoy you giving him baths, and in general show his spoiled prince side

It gets to the point where you know he's all better, but the damn man is taking too much joy from being spoiled and pampered like he (in his mind, anyway) deserved

And when he gets to that stage, all you have to do is smirk at him and say one sentence

"Goku's gotten even stronger, I've heard."

That gets him off his ass and out the house again in no time

Bonus- Vegeta Taking Care of You Headcanons

You usually end up catching whatever Vegeta was sick with once he's gotten better

He's definitely not as good as you are at being a caretaker, but he still tries

He doesn't say it much, but he's grateful to have you around for when he's at a low

He does his best to mimic the things you did for him

He's a terrible cook though, so he goes out to various restaurants for takeout while you're unable to cook, otherwise you'll both starve or die in a house fire

He'll draw up baths for you and bridal carries you to the tub, gently stripping you down and setting you into the warm water

You hum softly and relish each stroke of the washcloth that he runs over your body

"Thank you, 'Geta." You whisper

"I wouldn't be much of a mate if I didn't take care of you."

He holds you to his chest and watches tv, your face in his neck while you take naps

He'll kiss your forehead every now and then and pull you just a little tighter to him

He's certainly thankful you're not as much of a brat as he is when he's sick

He usually ends up reflecting on how much you must love him to be able to put up with him, sick or not

"Yeah, well... I love you too, y'know." He murmurs. "If there's anyone in this world who's gonna take care of you, it's gonna be me."

You snuggle up just a bit closer, eyes still closed. "My Vegeta..."

"All yours, princess."

[mediocreanomaly]

What if Vash finds out that his s/o is a werewolf and they are just a big dumb puppy with him but a very terrifying monster to others?

Authors Note: really eating up these creature request lately...you guys are just as bad as me huh? I know what you are~ (plus we had so much creature boys it's good to let the reader have some fun too)

Vash X Wer!Reader

•I'd say this is odd but Gunsmoke is odd. Whether it's from plants that walk around or priest that carry machine guns, a werewolf is just another thing to throw into the mix

•You had always been like this so it was hard to imagine your life any other way, which is why you led the life of a loner. I mean Gunsmoke has five moons it's hard not to be in wolf mode and it's even harder to explain, so you keep to yourself. Never straying far from motel rooms or barns to hide out in

•That is until a certain chaotic blonde crashes into your life....literately. You meet him when he crashes into you running from bounty hunters

•You end up saving his ass due to your abnormal reflexes pulling him to the side and your enhanced eyesight as you throw the two of you into an a dark ally that the bandits get lost in but you manage to navigate just fine

•When the two of you catch your breath Vash apologizes profusely for causing issues and swears he'll be out of your hair now but... for some reason he has a certain draw about him

•You don't really know what it is about him that screams "follow" to you but he just does. Maybe it's the dog in you but the urge to follow at his heels, to obey, to be good is embarrassingly strong so you just decide "fuck it" and offer to come along and although Vash is reluctant to drag anyone else around with his hectic life he enjoys the company

•You...actually manage to hide your wolfish side for awhile, now let's be clear Vash is more observant than he lets on he just doesn't ever guess "werewolf"

•You insist on sleeping in different rooms? Makes sense he's a stranger. Don't like being out when all five moons are up? must be a religious thing and he'll comply. You growl when someone gets too close to him? Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed

•He picks up on all your weird behaviors he just seems to guess wrong on what's causing them, often trying to get you donuts or let you go to bed early thinking your tired or hungry (or possibly upset with him?)

•The cat (or dog?) is out of the bag though when late one night your camp is raided by bandits. Usually you sleep in a tent a bit away from Vash as to not cause concern but when you see the bandits aim their guns at the man...you see red

•In an instant you're a terrifying snarling growling beast. Teeth bared protectively crouched over Vash, your wolf form is pretty large so you easily cover the man despite his tall lanky body. The bandits kick rocks quickly not wanting to be on the menu for tonight.

•Vash is a bit stunned and at first isn't 100% sure what's happening, he didn't see you come from the tent so he's a bit scared thinking you really are some monster, until you whine and lay your large head in his lap

•He freezes and very slowly and gently reaches out a hand to run through the fur on your head, when you whine and press closer to him he recognizes your eyes, the eyes he's been falling for since the day he met you

"..y-y/n? Is that you?" you confirm his question by wagging your tail slightly and your pointed ears perking up at your name

•The next morning you sheepishly explain yourself a bit more, tell him how it's always been this way, how you're pretty in control of it (unless all five moons are up but that's another story) and how you're really sorry you didn't tell him

•and to him? it's a relief. So you didn't hate him you were just fuzzy, he could deal with that...also now is probably a good time for him to tell you he isn't human either

•Just like that the two of you are fused at the hip. Both of you take turns asking each other different questions, you ask all about what it's like being a plant while he pesters you about being a werewolf, it's not the most conventional bonding but the two of you are no longer the most conventional pairing are you?

•You start getting more comfortable being in your wolf form around Vash too, Vash likes it a lot because he doesn't hold heat very well (it's a plant thing) but your body is like a furnace, so you curl around him at night to keep the two of you warm and safe from bandits and the cold

•You're also super lovable like this, Vash knows you'd never hurt him and it's almost therapeutic to run his fingers through your fur laughing when you lick at his face or nose him along with your large snout

•When the girls (and Wolfwood) join your group you go back to keeping it a secret not ready for a whole group of people to know about your monster form, not to mention there's a bit of protective instinct you have towards Vash so in your brain it gives you the upper hand if only Vash and you know

•but this plan also goes out the window similar to the way it did last time. Desperate times call for desperate measures and a crowd of Ja'Lai police so large even the punisher cant clear them dictates for a less that friendly appearance of your wolf form especially when one of their bullets hits Vash in the side

•If the time you took on the bandits was scary this is down right terrifying, you're pissed, Vash is bleeding and it's making the more animalistic side of you fume. You do your best not to kill (Vash would throw a fit) but lets just say a few of them aren't going to be policing anything else anytime soon

•Your muzzle is covered with blood from biting and your ears are pressed back as you growl, you look feral like nothing more than a wild animal out for blood

•The gang is...admittedly scared. Even Nicholas "Danger" Wolfwood is keeping a steady hand on the punisher incase things go south and trying to tally up how many vials he has in his pocket while Meryl tires to remember how your supposed to deal with feral animals. Play dead? no that was bears...run? that was stupid, maybe back away slowly?

•That being said when Vash lets out a sigh of relief and run towards you with open arms? Everyone's pretty sure blondie's lost his god damn mind, sure he was a martyr but he wasn't suicidal right?

•Further more when you go from something out of a horror movie to an over grown puppy the second you see Vash it's even more bewildering. Your eyes go big and your ears perk up as you crouch to make yourself look smaller and non threating happily nuzzling against Vashs torso

•He laughs and gently scolds you for being too rough with the enforcers but he knows when to pick his battles and counts the zero casualties as a win, you yip happily and gently nip at his hands as Vash laughs and pets you softly thanking you for keeping him safe

•You whine and nose at where he was shot and he promises you he'll get it cleaned up and that it's really not that bad while the others slowly relax. There would be a conversation to be had but...it seemed like you were harmless!

•Wolfwood struts over now that he realizes how soft you're being with the humanoid typhoon and once he gets close enough even extends an arm to pet you...only to be met with a snarl and a flash of teeth

•Wolfwood actually prays for the first time in a long time during that moment

•What can you say? Vash's blue eyes make you soft, but let's just say you got a bite that matches your bark

[ofsmokenandgold]

Land of Women - Episode 3

So episode 3 and we're still on the "Amat and Gala have chemistry even though she's annoying as fuck" train.

We get a nice little flashback that outlines Amat's arrival in La Muga and how he came to be involved with the house and the co-operative and Golfo and Montse. The women are great, doting on him. It does give us a couple of Amat mysteries - the child in the photo and the fact that he bought the house with several large bundles of €50 notes - which suggests that he knows that Gala can't really complain to the authorities about him appropriating her cash - because there would be too many questions. This scene also reminds us that you can't convincingly dye a beard. It just looks too uniform, no beard is a single color. I know they did it to telegraph the time shift, but it's just distracting.

I do like the village tradition of useless men - that's a very European rural thing - we have something of the same tradition in my family.

This episode certainly shows us where Gala got her tendency towards entitlement from, Julia trying to extort money from Andreu based on the fact that he "might" be Gala's father is decidedly sketchy. She's causing chaos in these people's lives and isn't even very nice to them. And, talking of entitlement - I can forgive Kate for thinking she can just walk into a doctor's office in Spain and get a prescription, no questions asked, because she's 17 and doesn't know any better. But did Gala actually think through what it would mean to bring a child that needs medical support to a foreign country where she has no legal right to access ongoing care? Xavi (the doctor) is a twat, but he's not wrong that he can't just write her a prescription without her medical history and proof of legal residence.

So Amat and Gala - this episode is interesting because she yells less, is less generally annoying, and we see real chemistry developing between them. It's interesting to watch how often Amat is looking at her mouth and not her eyes when they are talking. It’s such a subtle tell for attraction and he just nails it. And then we get the whole getting drunk together and being cute. And then Gala finds out that Fred is cheating on her, so he's a rat and she doesn't have to feel any loyalty to him. Which brings us to the "almost-kiss" on the patio. At that moment I was sold, even though it seemed a little fast (she was happily married to Fred less than a week before), and then Montse shows up and the writers throw that massive curve ball at us.

And for me, everything falls apart at that point. If they'd chosen to have Amat talk to Montse that night, even just to make an excuse for the evening and talk to her later; he's still hungover, he's not feeling great, he's tired - ANYTHING other than going off upstairs and fucking like bunnies five minutes after he'd almost kissed Gala.

It's unfathomable to me why the writers chose to make him look like SUCH a dick. Even if it's just a friends-with-benefits thing he owes Montse an honest conversation about developing feelings for another woman. It just makes him look like he doesn't want to blow up his no-strings sex on the side deal in case he doesn't actually have a shot with Gala. Again, it makes him look like a dick. Even if he's a still pretty dick in another fine selection of slightly ratty henleys (and that one lovely sweater in the flashback scene).

I have pretty much come to terms with it. but it's jarring, especially as I know it's only going to get worse over the next three episodes.

I have decided to work through it with a little writing-therapy. I am taking a great deal of delight in the fact that the entire opus of Land of Woman fiction on AO3 is going to be Amat/Montse for the near future (one story up there, more to come).