#<- not really but its close enough innit

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Im so sorry, i know this is the second time ive put tamlin stans on blast for calling him kinky on this blog, and i truly mean no offense to them, I guess Im just baffled as someone who jerks it to people getting strapped into unfeeling machines and having Things done to them. some of them dont even resemble sex. anyway,

Listen, I understand that the tamlin girlies need to defend themselves and justify their liking of him but you can just say that you think hes hot normalstyle, you dont need to be all like "yeah, Rhysand's pretty kinky with all his CoN-exhibitionism stuff but did he bite Feyre in the shoulder? 😈😈😈" (also, for the record, while I would consider the CoN stuff kinky, its still pretty lame imo. this joker went into the den of sinful debauchery just to have a woman sit in his lap and lightly finger her in front of his uncle, like come on)

Anyway, lets dissect all the things that supposedly make tamlin 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 (paraphrased for anonymity and entertainment)

1. He had sex with Feyre outside in the grass

wowwwwwwww bogstandard cishetero sex but more unsanitary? nvm that is kinky

2. Hes good at playing the fiddle so hes probably good at playing the clit

Cmon man thats not kinky, thats like the bare minimum if youre 500 years old and like to have sex with women even semi-regularly

3. He could probably use his spring powers to do nature shibari

Okay, but does he? Is there any canon evidence that hes ever done that? Whatever, atleast this one is an actual kink thing so thats one point. But even then i feel like thats so mild, Ive read so much smut about someone getting trapped and fucked full of pollen by some giant monster plant, he could do that with feyre except more safely and less noncon-y. use your imagination

4. The Beast Form

cant argue with this one

5. He can shapeshift himself and others which means they could swap genders and see how that feels, among other things which are not listed

I mean thats still just bogstandard heterosexual sex innit. And if only one of them shapeshifted it would be bogstandard homosexual sex. like, its fun but I wouldnt call it kinky. What kind of kinky use can I think of for the shapeshifting powers? uhhhhhhhh, shapeshift his urethra to be really small so he cant cum for some orgasm denial ?? Idk man. you could use that for some omorashi shenanigans as well

6. His nails are sharp and he drags them down Feyre's back during sex

Istg we are this 🤏 close to people calling french kissing kinky

7. He eats pussy. one time he even ate Feyre's pussy after cumming into her

I understand that women receiving oral sex is still not really a "mainstream sex act" because society at large still doesnt really care about women's pleasure but come on, thats not kinky thats just him being a good husband

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Before I had Sunny, I had a rabbit... His official name was Eddy, but he went through many names in my friend group

The names were: Kirishima, Springtrap and lastly Springkiri

Some pictures of him and a funny pic of Sunny

(A sad thing from here on)

So Eddy sadly passed away on 16th May 2022 while I held him. I bawled my eyes out when I realized he passed and literally couldn't go to school the next day because I was grieving so much. He was my childhood pet. He was 12 years old! Also he decided to pass before my birthday (21st May). I miss him very much

Now let me tell you, in February, the year (2022), he decided to jump from my arm because he was not happy about him getting his nails trimmed and fell on his side! He broke his fucking leg and was too old for operation because he wouldn't handle the amnesia. His leg was fully healed in April. You know he ran around, had fun with his toy, and played as if he was young again... Just to pass in May.

Now, to cheer you up, Sunny has the SAME sleeping spots as Eddy did. She also has similar running habits and such things as Eddy did. Now I think here Eddy's ghost was like 'Let me teach you cat' when she arrived at home and I like that!

Sorry for the kind of sad ask :(

AWWW eddy has such a lovely pelt pattern 🥺 and no worries about this being a Sad Ask: it'd be even more sad if you werent willing to share memories of him- he was still a little darling in your life, so i'm happy to hear bout both the good and bad bout him! so sorry to hear he passed right before your birthday tho.. 😭 at the very least, im sure he passed knowing how loved he was- and still is :]

ANND that's so cute sunny sleeps in his old spot now 🥺

[abigolemess]

hobie x reader where they’re smoking a blunt (maybe with some sexy shotgunning) and it gets really nsfw really fast

YES. YES. AND YES, ANON. also I'm shit with trying to get Hobie's speech down. especially since I'm not British lol. I hope u enjoy!

P.S. its finally here ya'll >:)

Warnings/tags: hella smut, p in v, protected sex, overstim, edging, degradation, praise, drug use, a lil rough, porn without plot for sure. Let me know if I missed any!

Word count: 1K

"Pass it here, love?"

You were making dinner at your apartment when Hobie texted you to see if you were busy. He hadn't seen you in a while as you both were busy, and he wanted you to come to his place. Missing him as well, you made him a plate and headed to him. And now you are both on his couch passing your second blunt back and forth.

You turned to Hobie to see his red eyes scanning your body. His lids were being weighed down as if there were something heavy pulling on them. You passed him the blunt without breaking eye contact. You couldn't. Hobie's brown pupils were too mesmerizing. But you didn't want to look away anyways.

Hobie took a drag of the blunt without looking away. Gently, he grabbed your face and brought it close to his, forcing your mouth in an "o" shape. He exhaled the smoke slowly into your mouth before finally pulling your lips to his. You exhaled the smoke into his face after his lips left yours. A smirk appeared on his face.

"Good girl. C'mere."

Hobie pulled you onto his lap. You could feel his bulge straining through his jeans.  "Y'feel that?" You nod as Hobie gets closer to your ear. "Wanna do somethin' about it?" You nod again. "Use your words, babes." You start to grind against him, breathing heavy. You earned a deep groan in your ear right before Hobie grabbed your hips to stop you. "Whaddya want?" he asked, his voice dripping with lust.

"Please, Hobie." His tight grip didn't allow you to have the friction you so desperately craved.

"Please, what, love? Do ya even know what your beggin for?" Hobie continued to tease you.

"Please give me your cock, Hobs. I need it," you whimpered. Hobie decided to stop toying with you and give you what you desperately needed, mostly because he couldn't wait either. Hobie lifted you up and carried you to his bedroom. After placing you on his bed, he grabbed a condom from his nightstand and pulled his pants and underwear off, freeing his cock. It was hard and ready, precum dripping from the tip. He quickly put the condom on.

"Gonna keep your clothes on for this next part o' what?" Hobie teased. You quickly stripped yourself. Hobie stood towards you and leaned over you. Sometimes you forgot about his height, but right now, his frame was engulfing you. His cold, slender fingers caressed your pussy lips slowly but with enough pressure to cause you to moan. You were practically dripping and you couldn't stand the teasing any longer. "Hobie please," you pleaded.

"This f'me? You're so wet 'n soft, love." Hobie inserted two of his fingers slowly inside of your sopping pussy, curling his fingers up to hit that gummy spot. You mewled in response and Hobie smiled. "Mmm… love those sounds you make, babe." Your pussy grabbed his fingers after those devilish words. "Feels good, innit? Y'want more?"

"Yes Hobie, more, please," You began to grind your hips. Hobie got the hint and began to speed up his movements.

You were oh-so-close when Hobie's fingers suddenly went missing. A confused whimper escaped your mouth. Hobie spoke with a deep, raspy voice. "Sorry, love," he says standing up straight, "I just can't wait any longer." Hobie grabbed your thighs and held them apart. He began rubbing his cock up and down your pussy, covering him in your slick. "This is what you really want, right?" After you nodded profusely, Hobie shook his head. "You know the rules, love. Use. Your. Words." "Yes Hobie, I want it so bad." "Good girl," Hobie said as he readied at your entrance.

Hobie began to slide in slowly, easing his cock into you. It stretched you in a good way, and you moaned from the tip all the way to the base. "Fuck yes, love those fucking sounds." he hissed as you squeezed around him. Hobie's thrusts were agonizingly slow. He know how badly you wanted to cum, but he can't help but tease you. He chuckled at your pained expression. "What's the problem, love? Want me to go faster?" A sly smile painted his face. He loved hearing you say what you want, especially because of your shyness. Your growing need cuts through your humility.

"Please fuck me faster, Hobie," You responded. Hobie's smile grew. He leaned forward, slowly, getting closer to your face. As he leaned, he somehow buried deeper into your hole. "Such a good fuckin' slut," he said before kissing your wet lips. He's thrusts increased in speed; cock rubbing over that sensitive spot just how you wanted it to. You arched into Hobie as your orgasm drew near. "Oi," he grunted, "tell me how my cock feels so deep inside, yeah?" You muttered out your pleasure. "Feels good, baby, so fuckin' good." Hobie hummed in your ear. The vibrations of his voice kept putting a warmth in your belly.

Hobie used his right hand and pushed down on your tummy, the spot where his dick makes an appearance. "Fuck!" "Oh, wow, you're usin' a lot of profanities, babe. Gonna cum, f'me?" Hobie's words pushed you over the edge. "Yes, I'm coming!" you screamed as your legs shook. Despite you reaching your peak, Hobie kept fucking you fast and deep. The overwhelming pleasure caused you to try to close your legs but Hobie's body was in the way. "Nuh uh, darling. You begged for this, 'member?" You whined. "I can't Hobie, can't take it," you cried. Hobie started going even faster, bringing you both close to cumming. "C'mon, babe, be a good whore and cum again f'me." Hobie moved his hand from your stomach lower until he reached your clit. Your eyes widened in anticipation, already knowing what comes next. Hobie began to rub your clit in circles, causing your orgasm to explode immediately.

"Good fucking girl," Hobie moaned as you pulsed around him, causing him to cum as well. You both panted as you came down from your highs. Hobie pulled out and laid down next to you. He pulled you to him and he kissed your forehead as you wrapped yourself around him. "You did so well f'me, love. Maybe we should smoke together more often."

"We definitely should."

"Well, we never finished the blunt from earlier. Wanna do it again?" You smiled at Hobie, and he smiled back, knowing what you smile meant.

"Let me go get the lighter."

[sugar-coat-it]

i reread teenage dream and i am crying and throwing up thinking about them wanting to make it as a couple despite being young

STOP I WILL ALSO CRY AND VOM

Here is a little tidbit about that. I did in fact cry while writing it because I am a baby. this is SO SAPPY

You're both already awake when the sun peaks through the blinds, gracing the gentle features of his face. It's a routine you both know well: Matty sneaks into your room in the middle of the night and leaves when the sun comes up before anyone notices he's gone. He always jokes about how stealthy he is when he's climbing up to your window even though you have to hold your breath every time, praying he doesn't break his neck. ("It's like Romeo and Juliet, innit?" "Would you just get inside, please?")

It's quiet. It feels like you two are the only people awake in the whole world as you look into each other's eyes. Flushed cheeks and tender stares. It's the sweetest thing you've ever known. Affection courses through your body despite still being heavy with sleep. You always insist that he wakes you up before he has to go. You'd take the somber goodbye over waking to the coldness of an empty bed any day. You remember he’d kissed you hard after you said it.

"I don't want to leave," Matty admits softly, his voice scratchy.

Your heart aches in your chest, but the tender smile remains painted on your lips. Your fingers curl into his shirt, holding him a little tighter.

"I know."

"I wish I never had to leave... we could stay here, like this. Just you and me," he whispers, sleepy, his voice laced with the kind of longing poetry is written with.

You can't seem to find the words you're searching for, nothing seems like it's enough. You nod softly, searching the depths of his soft eyes for the answers. Matty carefully pulls you to his chest, burying his nose into your hair. He breathes you in deeply. 

"I think I want to be with you... always. All the time," he says, his voice thick with emotion.

Your eyes squeeze shut as unshed tears begin to prickle at them, heat gathering at the bridge of your nose. You both know you're talking about something bigger now.

"Promise me you won't let anything take you away," you whisper. You hardly recognize your own voice. It's so small.

He understands what you're asking. He doesn't even hesitate for a moment to respond. 

"I promise. I promise I won't. I'm yours. That's not gonna change, you know that?"

You don't feel like you know anything at all. You know he doesn’t either, not really. That’s the thing about being so young, it feels like you’re supposed to wake up one day and have it figured out, but that day never seems to arrive. There are only three things you know for sure. The first thing is that time isn’t always kind. But you hope she’ll take pity on you.  

Matty kisses the top of your head, cradling your head against his chest like you’re made of something breakable, his other hand at your back. You listen to the steady beat of his heart, feel the warmth of him under your cheek. You press against him like you couldn’t possibly get close enough.

“I’m scared about what’s gonna happen when school ends,” you utter against his chest.

You shudder softly as your tears soak into his shirt, unable to hold them back any longer. Matty feels his heart clench in his chest. He watches as the sunlight washes over your skin, painting you in its glow. It feels like time running out as it creeps across your frame. He’ll steal all the time in the world to stay in this moment.

"I'm scared too," he whispers back. "Scared shitless actually. But we'll figure it out, okay? We'll make it work, no matter what."

“No matter what,” you sniffle, nodding against him.

It’s quiet for a few moments. Matty gently guides his hand up and down your back, delicate, comforting fingers trailing across your spine. You can hear birds chirping outside your window, the same chorus that’s been there every morning since you were little. The second thing is that the idea of growing up and growing apart from him tears you to pieces.

"I don't think I'll ever stop feeling like this about you. Even when we're really old and gross,” he whispers, smiling through misty eyes. 

You laugh at that. He savors the sound, taking a shaky breath as he tries to etch it into his memory somehow. The arm that rests under your body has long fallen asleep. He’s numb throughout his limb all the way to his fingertips, but he doesn’t dare to move. 

“You think we have a chance then?” you murmur. It feels a little silly to ask, it’s like you’re trying to guide each other through pitch black. But, having his hand to try and lead you is enough. 

Matty pauses for a moment, considering the question. He’d asked himself the same thing plenty of times, his gut a tangle of both hope and uncertainty. He’s not dumb, he knows the chances, that nothing is guaranteed, especially not at this age. He knows the looks you both get from your parents. One of pity, like they’re already expecting heartbreak for the both of you, that the sweetness can only take you so far. It pisses him off to no end. Despite all of that, he wants to believe you two can be the exception. If that makes him naive, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “I think so.”

The third thing is that you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything.

[belovedspector]

Written in the Stars

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!reader (implied Marc Spector x gn!reader and Jake Lockley x gn!reader)

Word Count: 800

Summary: Steven doesn’t have a birthday. He takes the task of choosing one very seriously.

Content: Fluff, one use of a pet name (love)

A/N: This follows Leap Year, but it’s not necessary to read that first. I don’t know a ton about astrology, so I’m learning as I go. Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

“Here it is!” you say triumphantly, pulling a purple book off one of Steven’s lower shelves.

Steven takes the book in his hands gingerly, as if it’s something sacred. “Why do you have this, anyway?”

You shrug. “My college roommate was really into astrology and tried to get me interested, too. I just never got rid of it. It’s sentimental, I guess.”

Steven nods, already flipping through the pages as he makes his way to the couch. “So, what signs are Marc and Jake, again?” he asks, not looking up.

You join him on the couch. “Both Pisces, oddly enough,” you remark.

He hums. “Maybe I should be, too.” He quickly consults the table of contents before flipping to the page on Pisces. “‘Empathetic, imaginative, creative,’” he reads. He skims a few more pages before saying, “It’s all a bit vague, innit?”

You laugh. “I guess it is, yeah.”

“Well, you can turn on the telly or grab your own book, if you like. This will take me a bit to get through.”

You stare at him. “You’re not gonna read the whole thing, are you?”

He looks back at you, confused. “How else will I know what sign I am?”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” you say. “Jake just picked a date he liked.”

Steven just shrugs. “I’d like to see what the book says, I think.”

“Alright,” you say with a shrug of your own. “Knock yourself out.” You scooch towards the other end of the couch, where your latest read is waiting on the end table. You turn on the lamp and settle in.

Steven’s a fast reader. In the time it takes you to slog through a few chapters, he’s closing the astrology book with a satisfying thump. “All done,” he announces.

You close your own book after marking your place with a bookmark (a slightly crumpled receipt counts as a bookmark, right?). “And? What’d you pick?”

“Virgo,” he says.

“Yeah?” you ask, interested. “Why’s that?”

Steven finds the appropriate page and reads, “‘Intelligent, analytical, hard-working.’” He looks to you, his confidence wavering. “That…sounds like me, right?”

You offer him a kind smile. “I think so, yeah. Did you pick a date?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet.” He briefly looks down again. “Says here I can do any day from the twenty-third of August to the twenty-second of September.”

You hum.

“Wait a second…” Steven trails off, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and typing something in.

“What?” you ask.

“Aha!” he says. “Twenty-fourth August. That’s what I want my birthday to be.”

“How come?”

“Tomb Buster premiered on that day in 1990. I reckon us Steven Grants should have the same birthday,” he explains with a grin.

You can’t help but match his smile. “August twenty-fourth it is, then. I’ll add it to my calendar.”

He closes the book again and hands it back to you. “Thank you for lending that to me, love.”

“Any time,” you say, taking the book and returning it to its spot on the bookshelf. You glance at the clock. “Ready to start on dinner?”

“Sounds good to me,” Steven says, standing up and following you to the kitchen.

After dinner has been taken care of and you’ve watched a movie, you’re in the bathroom getting ready for bed. You can hear Steven talking outside the door. You assume he’s conversing with his alters.

When you exit the bathroom, you see Steven standing at the fish tank, bottle of fish food in hand. He doesn’t seem to notice you as he continues on speaking. You realize he’s talking to the fish.

“Maybe I should’ve picked Pisces, Gus,” he muses.

Gus II and his two tank-mates, Tom and Jerry (named together by Marc and Jake, despite Steven’s protests), swim around in slow circles, seemingly waiting for Steven to feed them.

He shakes the bottle, watching the flakes drop gently into the water. “Then all three of us would be the same. And Pisces is fish, innit? It fits.”

“Steven!” you groan playfully. “You can’t just change your zodiac sign!”

“Why not?” he counters. “I just picked it today. There should be some sort of trial period, right?”

You snort. “Maybe, but I like the day you picked. It means something to you.”

“Alright, fine,” Steven says. He bids the fish good night before following you to the bed.

You settle in under the covers and say good night to one another. Your eyes are closed when you hear Steven ask into the darkness, “Do I get a cake for my birthday?”

You smile to yourself. “If you want one.”

“And presents?”

“Of course.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then, “What about balloons?”

“Whatever you want, Steven,” you say fondly. “Whatever you want.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. :)

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Fable (Soap/Reader)

CW: selkie!soap, implied domestic violence, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, seal!soap makes an appearance

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 2.8k

Hot tears streamed down my face, a stark contrast against the frigid night air. I crossed my arms over my chest, squeezing myself tight as I walked down the dimly lit street. I was doing the right thing. One bruise inflicted by his hands was enough, let alone the countless ones scattered across my body. 

My palms grazed a guardrail leading down to the water. I stopped in my tracks, eyes locking onto the water ahead. The pale moonlight reflected off the ocean's surface. 

The dock squeaked below my feet as I slowly approached the edge. Each weathered plank shifted ever so slightly below my feet. I reached the edge of the dock, glancing out at the waves in the distance. Pursing my lips to stifle the sobs rising from my chest, I lay down against the dock, cheek pressed to the cold planks. I tucked my knees to my chest, holding myself tightly. If I were to die at this moment, I don’t think I would mind it. At least I’d be free. 

The water gently sloshed beneath the dock. My eyelids fluttered closed as I took in the salty air. 

“Y’doin okay?” A soft voice asked. I opened my eyes, glancing down at the edge of the deck. A set of blue eyes stared at me. Brown curls fell in his face, half obscured by the wooden planks. 

“Oh sorry, I didn’t think anyone was out here,” I sat up, wiping the tears from my cheek with the back of my hand. 

“It’s cold out, why aren’t you wearing a jacket?” He pushed himself onto the deck. His body was cloaked in furs. It was an odd choice of dress, but I tried not to pay it any mind. 

“I left in a hurry, I guess,” I mumbled, sniffling. “I’m sorry, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

He reached out, holding my hand in his. His blue eyes traced up and down my arms, taking in the scattered bruises that blossomed on my skin. He frowned, rubbing his thumb against the marks. 

“This why you left?” He asked, fingers grasping my arm. 

“Should’ve left a long time ago,” I hummed, closing my eyes. “I was just afraid of being alone, I guess.”

“Y’not alone now, are you?” He draped the fur over my shoulders. Despite being wet with salt water, it was warm, shielding my skin from the chilled air. He draped his arm over my shoulder. I leaned into his touch, resting my head against his shoulder. 

Sleep tugged at my eyelids. Every tensed muscle in my body slowly released as I sunk deeper into the stranger's embrace. He softly mumbled a tune in Gàidhlig, lulling me into a dreamless slumber. 

“Wake up.” A boot softly nudged me. I groaned, turning onto my side. My eyelids fluttered open. The sun was high in the sky by now, land tinged with a shade of bright blue. 

I glanced around at the deck beside me. The man from last night, and the cloak he draped me in, were gone. Above me stood a man in a police uniform, brows furrowed in silent pity. Beside him stood a woman in a long dress, holding a child by her side. 

“We received a report of a domestic dispute. Care to follow me to the station?” The man held out his hand for me. Nodding, I held my hand out. He gripped my wrist, pulling me to my feet. 

“There was a swimmer here with me. Did you see where he went?” I asked the officer, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. 

“You were alone when Mrs. McCloy found you this morning. Was he the one who made the report?” 

“Must’ve been. He was awfully kind.” I sighed, following behind the officer. My eyes scanned the shoreline. There wasn’t a single person around, just clumps of washed-up kelp. 

A roaring seal call bellowed from the coast. My feet halted beneath me. On a rock, nearly twenty meters out at sea sat a lone seal. It raised its head, calling out. My lips tugged up into a smile. 

“Cute, innit?” I chuckled. 

I turned the key in my hand. On the back were the numbers “201”. I stuffed the key back into my pocket and started down the stairs. Clenching my jaw, I headed toward the end of the dock. He had to be here.

I kicked off my boots, setting them aside. The wood creaked beneath me as I sat, dipping my feet into the water. 

Barely visible in the moonlight, the seal from earlier chirped, slapping its stomach with its front flippers. I watched as it dove into the water, disappearing under the surface. My eyes were fixated on the depths before me, scanning for any movement. 

A familiar head of brown curls appeared before me. I grinned, looking down at the man. 

“You’re back,” he smirked, resting his elbows on the dock. 

“So are you,” I rested my hand on his wrist. Despite the frigid night, he felt warm. “Did you call the police station?” I asked. He silently nodded. I looked away, feeling my lips curl into a smile. 

“I don’t leave here that often, but I made an exception,” he explained. My brows knitted, gaze locking onto him. 

“What do you mean? You live in the lighthouse or something?” 

He pulled himself from the water, draped in the thick fur from last night. His muscles tensed, skin glistening under the pale lighting. Glancing at him, I could help but compare him to images of water spirits in fairytale books. 

He looked ethereal draped in seal skin, bare body covered by the pelt. I watched as he moved to lie on his back, blue eyes not leaving me. Something about this encounter felt odd. Maybe it was the fog of despair finally fleeing my brain.

I pursed my lips. Surely I was being childish. 

“Sure, something like that.” He grinned, patting the space next to him. I laid down on my side next to him. He draped the pelt across my body, arm resting on my waist. He pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. I pulled away to look at his face. My gaze flicked from his deep eyes, like pools of navy water, to his plush lips. Gently holding his face in my hand, I leaned in, pressing my lips to his. 

His kiss was warm, soothing every worry in my mind. He held me tight in his arms, keeping me by his side. When he pulled away, a thin, silvery strand of saliva connected our lips. 

“You’re safe with me,” he spoke softly, fingers tracing patterns into my skin. 

I smiled, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck. His skin smelt like salt and sand. I pressed my lips against his neck, drawing a soft noise from him. His fingers ran through my hair, keeping a gentle hold on my head. 

“Thank you…” my voice drew on. I pulled away just enough to get a look at his face. “You never told me your name,” my gaze was fixated on his plush lips, and the way they slowly curled into a smirk. His canines glistened in the dim lighting. 

“It’s Johnny,” he leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. His tongue swiped against my bottom lip, urging me to part my lips for him. I obliged, letting a soft noise rise from my chest as he slipped his tongue into my mouth. His breath tasted of fish, tinged with salt and musk. 

I draped my leg over his hip. He twitched, bucking his stiff cock against my thigh. I whined against his lips. With a soft grunt, he pushed me onto my back, settling himself between my legs. He sat back on his shins, eyes raking down my body. 

His hands reached toward my shirt, fingers sliding underneath the hem.

“Johnny, it’s cold.” I grabbed his wrists, tugging his hands away. 

“I’ll keep you warm, love,” he cooed, slipping my shirt over my head. His teeth caught his bottom lip, pupils dilating as he took in every inch of my bare skin. His warm palms slid up my stomach, over my ribs, fingertips brushing against my nipples. A soft chuckle left his chest as he watched me twitch beneath him. 

I hooked my arms behind his neck, pulling him down into a messy kiss. I moaned against his lips as his fingers hastily worked at the button on my trousers. He hastily yanked the fabric down my legs, tossing them aside without another thought. 

His lips traveled down my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut as his sharp canines sunk into my skin. My body felt feverish as arousal pooled underneath my skin. He kissed over the marks, cooing soft praises next to my ear. 

“Wanna treat you so good,” he mumbled against my skin as he kissed down my chest. 

I clasped my hand over my mouth, muffling the noises that spilled from me as his lips wrapped around my nipple. He groaned against my chest, sucking harshly. With his other hand, he toyed with my nipple, rolling it between his fingers. 

“Johnny,” I whined, glancing down at the man between my legs. He ran his tongue in circles over my nipple before dipping down lower, kissing over my ribs. 

My cheeks flushed red hot as he slowly descended between my legs, leaving behind bite marks and wet patches of saliva. I bit down on my lip, staring down at him with half-lidded eyes. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a siren.” I sputtered as he kissed along my thighs. 

“Wrong species, dear.” He chuckled, running his fingers up my cunt. 

I threw my head back against the dock with a thud. My voice strained, words coming out as incoherent babbles. His fingers traced around my clit in quick circles, only to pull back and run down my core, teasing my entrance. He repeated this torturous pattern, nipping my inner thighs and reveling in my need.

I watched as he brought his sodden fingers to his lips, moaning as he slid the digits over his tongue. His brows knitted, groan rising from his chest. He pulled off the digits with a soft pop, blue eyes meeting mine. 

“Taste like a dream,” he grunted, leaning in closer to my aching core. 

“Johnny!” I cried out as his tongue licked a thick stripe up my cunt. My fingers carded through his curls, tugging his locks. He groaned against my core, sending pulses of electricity up my spine. I arched my back, pushing my hips forward into his face. 

He chuckled, using his arm to hold me still as he flicked his tongue against my clit. Every movement of his tongue drew needy noises from my throat. Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over. 

His fingers circled around my entrance, gathering enough lubrication to slip inside. My vision grew unfocused as he pushed knuckle-deep inside of me. My cunt squelched around his fingers, earning another grunt from him. 

I looked down at the man between my legs, catching his glimpse. His pupils were dilated, blue eyes deepening into deep pools of inky black. His skin glistened with moisture.

He thrusted two fingers inside of me at a steady pace, moving his tongue around my clit in sync. My body jolted with the force of his fingers. My breath grew shallow and shaky as he ate me out with fervor, not stopping to even catch his breath. 

His lips wrapped around my clit, sucking the delicate skin into his mouth. My nerves pulsed as the stimulation wracked my body. Hot tears streamed down the sides of my face. A stream of unfiltered moans fell from my spit-soaked lips. 

My jaw went slack as tension built in my stomach. I clenched around his fingers as I drew closer to my orgasm. With a soft graze from his canine, he pushed me over the edge. The tension snapped in my stomach, limbs going limp in his grasp. 

My back arched up off of the dock, a burning ache sparking in my flanks. My grip on his hair tightened, pulling him closer to my twitching cunt. I squeezed his head between my quivering thighs as I slowly came down from my high. As my vision came back into focus, I glanced down at the man. He raised his eyebrows, wide eyes staring down at me. 

“How’d you get so good at that?” I asked, chest heaving as I caught my breath. 

“No idea,” he said with a grin. 

He shifted onto his hands, pelt draping over both of our bare bodies. I reached up, fingers caressing his dampened cheeks. He leaned into my touch, gaze softening. 

I crossed my ankles behind his back, pulling his hips closer to my core. The tip of his aching cock brushed against my cunt. He grunted, looking down between our bodies. 

He gripped his cock, lining it up with my entrance. His blue eyes met mine again, brows knitting, a silent ask for consent. I nodded, lips parting as he slowly pushed forward. 

The stretch burned, spreading across my hips. I squeezed my eyes shut, jaw clenching as he inched his cock inside of me. 

“Doin’ so good,” he cooed, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to my cheek. I whined, spreading my legs for him. 

He pressed his chest to mine, hands gripping my hips tightly as he bottomed out. His sweaty forehead rested against mine, hot breath fanning over my sticky skin. I opened my eyes, staring into the deep, navy pools before me. 

“Johnny, move,” I whimpered. He sputtered out an incoherent response, gently rocking his hips into me. A loud, desperate noise rose from my burning lungs. I cradled his face in my hands, lips meeting his once more. 

His pace was fast. With every thrust of his hips, my body rocked against the dock. He moaned against my lips, cock twitching inside of me.

His lips ran down my neck, teeth finding my pulse point. I choked out a sob, fingertips caressing his cheeks. He grunted, angling his hips upward. My back arched off of the dock.

Every thrust burned, his cock splitting me open. And yet I couldn’t get enough. Each drag of his cock against my insides drew a wine from my marred throat. Each nudge of his cock head against my cervix blurring every thought in my head. 

His hips sped up, fucking into me at an even rougher pace. My voice grew higher in pitch, each noise growing needier than the one before. I felt that same tension pooling in my hips, tugging at my insides, building more and more with every thrust. 

I held his face against my chest, tears welling in my eyes as he grazed his teeth over my nipple. His palms slid up and down my body, groping every bit of flesh within reach. 

The grunts erupting from his heaving chest grew more strained. Every last bit of resolve slowly chipped away, leaving behind a needy man, pumping his cock into my quivering cunt. He chased his high, whimpering soft praises against my skin. 

Static flooded my limbs as every nerve ending sparked to life. My jaw went slack, lips parting in a silent scream as he pushed me over the edge. Tears streamed down my blotchy cheeks. 

His hips stuttered, pace growing erratic. With a high-pitched whimper, he stilled, spilling warmth inside of me. I felt his cock twitch inside of me as his cum flooded my insides. I glanced down at him, cheeks flushed and brows furrowed. He looked beautiful even in the dim lighting. 

He pulled out, watching his seed drip down my inner thighs. I grabbed his wrist, pulling him to lie beside me. With a soft grunt he collapsed at my side, limbs tangling with my own. We sat in silence, sweaty skin sticking to each other as we took in heaving gulps of air. 

When I awoke in the morning, I was back in my clothes. A soft grunt pulled me from my slumber. I opened my eyes, only to be met with a set of deep black eyes staring down at me. 

“Plah,” the seal babbled. My lips curled into a grin. I quickly sat up, turning to face the creature. 

“Johnny…” I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. 

An assortment of shiny trinkets and shells were laid out before me. My face flushed red as I took the items in my hands. Johnny snorted, watching intently as I inspected the items. 

“I’ll be back here tonight,” I said, looking up at the seal. Without another grunt or snuff, he dived into the water. I glanced back at the items he’d given me, holding them close to my chest. 

“See you tonight.” I only caught a glimpse of his curls before he disappeared beneath the surface again.

Masterlist

[kiyomitakada]

many of my friends from other spaces (who were around for the actual death note mania back in the 2000s unlike me, a Youngster) have criticized death note for not going hard enough on the fact that the stuff light is doing wouldn't work. in manga canon the existence of kira has somehow stopped all the wars on the planet and the crime rate has dropped steeply when realistically that wouldn't. happen. at all. and i agree with them, i think this is part of why death note objectively really sucks

i do think it is interesting that death note chooses regardless to paint light as doing an unequivocally bad thing. hang on there's a better-phrased post like this let me go find it HERE. read that first

okay welcome back. death note says, if you killed someone and it genuinely decreased the amount of harm that spreads in the world (a question that obviously disregards the grief that person's relatives would have, the opportunity of rehabilitating them, the impossibility of knowing for sure that this would actually improve the world — just. death note does not deal with those things even though i think it should), that would still be a bad thing.

and like, i agree. but i think that death note and i don't agree on the why. most death note fans i've seen could write whole novels on how punitive justice doesn't work and disproportionally affects marginalized communities and so on and so forth; death note sort of just shrugs and says, murder is bad. which it is! but god that's a weak justification i can see why some of its fans started writing quora essays like "actually light was right the whole time and should have killed more people"

…actually you know what, here's what death note is doing: it is taking a magnifying glass to the justice system but only to the perpetrators. death note is a really good treatise on how power corrupts everyone, even when you think you'd do the right thing. (death note to me is a thinly veiled metaphor pro-gun control/anti-death penalty but that's a different post.) "whoever picks up this note will only ever lead a life of misery" "the true evil is the power to kill" "misa, i'm sorry, i should never have given you the notebook" etc etc etc. death note is screaming that having the power to kill will destroy you.

what death note is not good at is actually examining the effects of that power over the world at large. it just sort of says, i mean, murder is always bad innit. L and near and mello aren't trying to catch light because they truly believe kira is Wrong, they're just after him because what else are they supposed to do. you're just another murderer, near says. and the world goes back to status quo. and the police continue to rule the world in place of kira. and i mean sure the police have less power than Magical Killing Notebook but man. death note is so close to saying "tear down the existing justice system too" and never gets there and sometimes i want to strangle it.

[squints at post] is this even anything

[gaasuba]

First Kiss

A prequel to Disapproval

Link to AO3 1,108 words

Tags: fluff, idiots in love, they/them Hobie

"Excited for the extra time with you guys! Well.... I guess just 'you' today...." Miles wants to scream. 'Just you????' Come on, Miles, get it together! "I mean! Not 'just you' as in 'I don't want to hang out with you!' You know, I mean it like 'it's just us'," oh no that sounds too right! "Aaaagh! Look! What I mean is...." Miles takes a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. It barely works.

Hobie is staring at him; amused, confused, and expectant.

Pav's and Gwen's portals close behind them, leaving earlier than usual, and now Miles is left alone with Hobie. It doesn't happen very often, but that was why Miles had planned this with them both earlier. He tries to hide his nerves as he takes off his mask and attempts to play dumb.

"They sure seemed in a rush. Wonder what's up with that," not that dumb!

"It happens," Hobie says with a shrug then pulling off their mask, "What about you? Usually busy with school work, innit?"

"All caught up, actually!" Pav had helped him get caught up two weeks ahead in case it took a while for a moment like this to come up. "Excited for the extra time with you guys! Well.... I guess just 'you' today...." Miles wants to scream. 'Just you????' Come on, Miles, get it together! "I mean! Not 'just you' as in 'I don't want to hang out with you!' You know, I mean it like 'it's just us'," oh no that sounds too right! "Aaaagh! Look! What I mean is...." Miles takes a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. It barely works and he decides to commit to the truth.

He's already forgotten the number of this reality, too distracted by planning what to say in this moment, but its sunset is beautiful, so he feels it's a good enough place. Anyway, he's not sure he could handle coming up with more excuses for going somewhere else, and Hobie is staring at him; amused, confused, and expectant.

"Actually.... I asked them to leave early," Miles admits, "because I want to ask you something, but I'm not really sure how to ask it..." Hobie's expression softens and their eyes widen. They almost seem nervous as they shove their hands in their pockets.

"Oh yeah?" but their voice seems chill as ever, so maybe he's imagining things. "Well give it a go then." Miles bounces on his heels and closes his eyes as he focuses on his first words.

"When we first met, I thought you were the biggest jerk in the multiverse, but looking back at everything...." Miles' heart is pounding against his chest so hard that it's distracting. "You've been.... amazing ever since I first met you. Been rooting for me. Been looking out for me." Somehow the words bring a bit of relief. He manages to turn his bounce into a sway and to open his eyes, tho he can't bring his wandering gaze back to Hobie and he picks at the legs of his suit. "And I honestly can't imagine my life without you in it. So.... Look I know you don't like labels and this is for sure probably the wrong one but....!" He slams his eyes shut tight again, "Will you be my boyfriend!?" He's immediately embarrassed by how loudly he asked, but still, he opens his eyes again and finally forces himself to look at who he's been rambling at.

Miles has never seen Hobie this color before; pink and covered in scribbled hearts. That's good, right?

"Sunflower," the nickname makes Miles forget how to breathe for a moment. How long have they been thinking about calling him that?? "I'll take whatever labels you want to give us, so long as there's an 'us'." Miles is still stunned and processing their answer when they ask,

"Can I kiss you?" Miles considers his words for a second longer than he wishes he had, then quickly settles on a panicked,

"Of course!"

Still totally not smooth.... but Hobie doesn't seem to notice. They step closer, taking one hand out from a pocket to pull Miles' away from picking at his suit. He hadn't even noticed he was still doing it.

Distracted by attention being drawn to his picking, it takes him a moment to realize Hobie is holding his hand.

Distracted by Hobie holding his hand, it takes him a moment to realize they haven't moved again.

And he notices how their hand holding his is shaking.

So they are just as nervous as he is. So nervous they asked to kiss him and now are waiting to be kissed. Miles can barely handle how cute that is.

He uses his free hand to grab the back of Hobie's neck and pull them closer, taking in their awed expression before closing his eyes and letting his lips meet theirs. He feels Hobie's other hand rest on his waist, then gently pull him close....

Then shove him away with a shout!

"AH! Bleedin-!" They've turned pink and yellow.

"AHH!" Miles copies, jumping back before he realizes what happened.

He shocked them! And aren't those the colors they turn when they're angry?? Shit! He's already messed things up!

"I'm sorry!" he shouts, turning invisible. "I swear it was an accident! I'll focus better next time!" If there is a next time.... Please let there be a next time!

Hobie starts laughing. Miles just ruined their first kiss by shocking them and they're laughing!

"It's nothin, love," they say through the laughs.

Recovering from their amusement, they step forward and easily find Miles with one hand to pull him close again. The touch triggers them to turn back pink with the hearts. Their eyes are closed since they don't know where to look for him, but Miles can't stop staring at their smile. "You're amazing. I don't care if you shock me every time. I won't stop kissin you unless you ask me to."

Then why aren't they kissing him now?

Miles leans in again and kisses the heart scribbled across Hobie's lips. They tense for a moment, surprised, but relax into it quickly. While Miles focuses on not shocking them again, he also wills himself to turn back visible so they won't look like a weirdo kissing air.

He wraps his arms around Hobie's neck.

They wrap their arms around his waist.

They straighten their posture and it pulls Miles onto his toes but he doesn't mind.

He feels like he could stay here forever....

but he eventually notices the light though his eyelids fading as the sun sets, and supposes Hobie must have been serious when they said they'd never stop kissing him until he asked. He decides to make himself break the kiss.

The way Hobie is staring at him, gaze soft, lips slightly parted, illegible writing beginning to join the pink hearts, a barely readable cursive "sunflower" across their lips where the heart had been.... it makes Miles want to kiss them again so badly.

"I love you," Hobie says quietly.

"I love you too," Miles replies, then gives in and kisses them again.

[bitchyfoxymama]

Dirty Little Secret - Moon Knight System x F!Reader

Warning: smut, sex work, fingering(F receiving) pinning, very fluffy.

A/n: sex work is work, also I hope I did good describing camming I've never done it nor have I watched it so I hope I did ok. This was inspired by @valeskafics camgirl series

Tags: @juneknight @romanarose

...

It was a late friday night in London, the boys had no plans and it was Steven’s day. Steven had been bored and curious, sometimes a disastrous combo but today it probably worked in his favor. 

He was horny, and he didn't want to watch the same old scripted porn on pornhub, no he wanted something intimate. So he opened a website he saw Jake had used once when he hadn't realized Steven was confronting. He noticed you never showed your face but he assumed that was because of safety or for privacy. 

So Steven typed in your name and sure enough there you were, streaming and in the middle of presumably fulfilling a request as you spoke out the word ‘Mommy’ in a breathy moan that went right to his already half hard cock. 

‘Mommy, can I please cum on your strap. Its s’good, mommy, i'm so close’

“Bloody hell, I’m about to cum in my trousers like a bloody teenager.” he mumbles to himself as he guides his hand down his sweats to release his cock and begins to mimic the speed you are using the dildo on yourself. 

When you both finish, Steven tips you 50£ and writes ‘You looked absolutely like an angel in the stream darling, make sure to drink some water’ he smiles as you read his comment out loud. 

…

Jake was really horny and he knew exactly how to help relieve his dilemma, he was going to watch his favorite camgirl. He pulls out Steven’s laptop, logging into the website and searches for her name. 

He discovered you not too long ago, on a night quite like this one, he enjoyed the way you were so sweet with the audience, you started every steam by asking if everyone has had their water today, he loved your personality as much as he loved your body.  He liked to watch you stretch yourself on the dildos you used.  The little moans you let out when you were close to orgasm. 

He loved your streams. They always felt so homey and intimate, plus you sometimes wore the lingerie he would gifted you and watch you play with yourself in it. He would like to imagine you being his girlfriend, as he watched your face as you came on your fingers. 

…

Marc loves watching you, he loves being able to match the speed of you fucking yourself on your fingers to his fist running up and down on his cock. He likes to imagine it's your hand jerking him off. He adds more lube to his palm as he watches you squirt for the camera. 

As bad as it probably is, Marc wishes he could be the one to make you do it. He wants to be the one to make your cunt glisten with cum and pound into you. He wants to replace your fingers with his, make your viewers guess whose fingers are knuckle deep in your pussy as you moan out and quiver in ecstasy as you orgasm under his touch. 

“Oh! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh! Fuck!” you moan out as you squirt on the purple dildo that you pull out of your quivering cunt. Marc comes soon after, getting off on your moans and heavy breathing.  

…

The boys had agreed to spend the 200£ for a private video chat with you and so the day had come when that was finally happening.  

“Hello!” you say excitedly. People never splurge for the private video chat so this was gonna be fun seeing as how it's the user celestiallover87. He is always so sweet when they give you tips, compliments and gifts. 

“Hello love, bit of a beautiful night innit?” Steven says with his camera off. 

His voice sounds so familiar, you can almost place it, if he put on his camera you’d be sure to place where you've seen him from. 

“It is very beautiful especially since i get to speak to you, my handsome gifter,” you flirt, biting your lip even though you knew he couldn't see it. 

“Flirt back, Steven” Marc says in the head space, since they all pitched in to pay for this they all decided to be present when it came time for the private chat. 

"Yes! Tell her how much we enjoy her content, and turn on the damn camera hermano!" Jake also butts in.

"Bloody hell," he mumbles before turning on the camera. 

There in front of you is the cute gift shoppist you always visit. 

“St-Steven?” you let out and before you can even stop yourself you raise your camera to show off your face. 

“Y/n!” a blush begins to make its way up his neck, “Um fancy meeting you here,” he says with a lopsided smile. 

“Mierda, it's that cute little bakery owner who has a crush on steven!” Jake looks shocked from the headspace, “I bet her pussy tastes just as sweet as the pastries she makes.”

Steven’s cock swells at the words. 

“I-I this is a little awkward,” you chuckle, “Um you won't reveal my secret will you?” you bite your finger nail, it was newly painted, with little stars and a moon painted on it. 

“I wouldn't dream of it, love! But um why camming?” He asks while rubbing his clothed thighs trying to focus on anything but the way your breasts bounce slightly when you laugh at his question. 

“I love getting off and I love being in control. I control my environment, how and when I come and sometimes I get to be in control of others' orgasms and that is just so thrilling,” you begin to explain, getting into a much more comfortable position on your chair, “The bakery is my passion and this is my stress relief,” 

“Steven, you gotta ask her out now. Come on for us.” Marc says. 

“I-I wanted to ask this the next time i saw you but no time like the present right?” he swallows thickly, he can't focus. Between his cock hardening and you looking so god damn cute in your baby pink lingire, “But would you like to-to go out with me?”

“Are you sure you still wanna go out with me? Now that you know what I do?” You ask blushing. This was the best day ever for you! Your long time crush whom you have liked for a few months now, and may now possibly love feels the same for you. It makes you wanna kick your feet and twirl your hair. 

“Of course I still want to go out with you love, just because you do this doesn't make you any different than the sweet woman you are that brings me treats every friday. You're still Y/n”

“Pick me up at my place this friday at 8! There's this great vegan place that just opened up, but for now I've got to go!” you both quickly say your goodbyes. 

“Holy shit,” Marc lets out. 

“Hombre got a date with Y/n and she's the sexy little cam girl too. Fuck” Jake adds biting his lip staring at the black screen in front of them.  

“Bloody hell I've comed in my trousers,” steven mutters to himself. 

…

“Oh, fuck yes, please daddy deeper,” you moan out. Splayed in Jake's lap, his hardened cock rubbing against your ass. You will definitely be helping out with that the moment your stream is over. You are both in your streaming room with Jake knuckle deep in your cunt, while his thumb is rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Yeah you like when Daddy makes you come on his fingers don't you, mi vida?” Jake whispered in your ear. He runs his unoccupied hand towards your throat and gently squeezes. You're so close to your orgasm but know you can only achieve it when Jake feels like letting you come. 

   The boys didn't like to have their voices on camera and it also helped the viewers imagine it was them with their fingers inside you. Each of the boys had their own ways of being with you. With Steven it was sweet, soft and caring. He will coax so many orgasms out of you with his sweet words.  Jake was rough, he liked to deny your orgasms as long as he could. He also liked to choke you which you found you enjoyed. Marc was a mix of both, depending on how he was feeling and the requests you would get would determine which mood he was in. 

“Come on my fingers mi vida, i know you want too,” he puts pressure on your throat once more as he feels your walls tighten around his fingers. He curls his fingers inside of your warm cavern and runs them against the spongy spot inside. 

You moan out, squirting over his fingers. You lean your head back on Jake's shoulder, still out of sight of the camera. You moan as he removes his fingers from inside you. 

“Thank you daddy,” you sigh out. Soon after youve come down from your high, you thank your viewers and tell them to drink their water because if they are just as thirsty as you are they need their water. 

When you know for a fact the stream is off you slide off Jake’s lap and turn towards him smiling. 

“Thank you for helping me with this stream baby,” you say while leaning forward and kissing him sweetly. 

“Anything for you mi cariño,” he responds once you pull away, he places the fingers that were once deep inside you into his mouth, “As sweet as always.  

[clockworkcheetah]

not me coming here with an analysis on the 2x07 brotzly arguement that nobody wants. this kinda fell into me going and aNOTHER THING, but i'll try and keep it vaguely coherent

also these are just interpretations/theorising- they're just ideas to chew on. obviously i'm coming to todds defense a little bit here (lbr he gets the most flack for a scene where i dont think anyones to blame) and at the end of the day its just a bit of fun innit

firstly and the main take here:

dirk did not want to be comforted right then and there. sounds a little odd, right? when you're upset you expect someone to hug you and tell you everything's fine. well... not always. especially when you're angry. especially when you're someone who needs time to process everything. he didn't want to be touched- throughout s2 he flinches away from todd (2x03) and he often uses something to shield himself- a cushion/the filing cabinet (2x03 and 2x04). he also distances himself from everyone when obviously upset. aka he wants space. the point is, todd picked up on that. he isnt gonna try and give dirk a comfort hug because how well would that go down, really? also i will point out in that scene todd never does try and touch dirk- when he notices dirk's upset, he kneels down close and speaks softly, but doesn't go further. it's similar to other times- close, but doesn't touch- dirk actually puts the distance between them. compared to how beast is with dirk, how BW treats dirk too, and how miserable he is the entire time with unwanted touching.

what todd normally does- and what seems to have worked before, is words of encouragement- they inspire him! except... he didnt want todd's words of encouragement or pep talks this time. at that point they would be just empty words, completely meaningless. he very clearly wasn't in the state of mind where any of that would've helped to me, i think dirk just really needed to vent and rage and eventually cool off and be in a better enough mental state to actually talk it through. but it's entirely possible even then he wouldn't wanna talk to todd- he clearly has a lot of self-blame to what has happened to him, even if todd doesnt blame him for that. and thats not todd's fault for not knowing that (todd not knowing will come up alot). hes not a mind reader, he has other priorities, and todd's own mental state isn't exactly great in s2, either. (another reason that occured to me why dirk might not talk to todd even afer he had time to process is the simple fact that todd was there. he spoke to francis and beast about the events of either the spring or cardenas case. hell! he even unloaded onto hobbs within knowing him a few hours. yet with todd, he doesn't... he could've told todd about the timeloop, the spring case, ect, but he knew todd was going to be there. maybe i'm reaching but its interesting- and falls back onto dirk keeps todd at arm's length (this will also come up alot). might make another post on that specifically)

so lets talk about todd now. a lot of flack he gets is that he shouldn't have left dirk, his words were harsh and his frustration came out of nowhere

i've already dived into the leaving thing (although he didn't abandon dirk. i kind of hate that narrative- he didn't tie dirk to a tree in the middle of the woods and drive off) dirk didn't want to go, wasn't in the state of mind to go and todd had a motivation to go. todd didnt force dirk to come with- even though he very much wanted him to- and dirk didn't force todd to stay. (and amanda at this point was still his main priority- was this a good priority? no! his arc was learning to let her go. dirk wasn't todd's main focus throughout s2 and this isn't a revelation. dirk still mattered- todd didn't stop caring for dirk just because he went off on his own.) and yes maybe he should've indicated he was coming back more clearly, because like todd, dirk isn't a mind reader either (but i'll come back to the communication thing)

todd's words were harsh. they were, i'm not pretending they weren't and they're supposed to be, because the brotzmans tend to be harsh when angry. i'm not justifying, but i can think of reasons: 1. self-projection. pretty much all of todd's really angry moments (directed at patrick and dirk in 1x07 and also suzie in 2x10) you can tell he's talking about himself at the core of it. with 2x07, i'll admit this falls into fanon speculation, but this line: 'Friendship isn't just about someone being there for you. It about you being there for them too.' there's weight there. there's no way this was just said on a whim, imo. todd is friendless at the start of the show, and yeah his selfish choices fucked them all up- but i think people tried to be there for him, and he pushed them all away (and probably hates himself for that.) I don't think dirk's being selfish, but todd had a point in indicating people have been trying to help and dirk wasn't accepting it. from the audience's pov yeah, we know why. todd's pov? he's given speeches, coaxed dirk into talking to him, or to engage with the case (dirk's indicated plenty of times he's a detective and wants to do cases). he is trying in the friendship, but dirk keeps him at arms length. for todd this would eventually become frustrating. (once again, i'll come back to this) 2. the blackwing line. hoo boy. 'I'm sorry they didn't teach you that at Blackwing' like i said, i doubt this was suppose to be favourable to todd here. but, a thing to consider: he doesn't know how bad blackwing is. '"Blackwing," it's a defunct CIA program that's after Dirk.' (1x06) 'Well, they don't exactly let us just wander around the halls' (2x02) 'I was in a government prison for psychics.' (2x02) todd was def given a watered down version of BW. todd wouldn't have known dirk was small in there- he says he hasnt seen mona in 15 years, we dont know dirk's exact age, probably early-mid 30s, though. todd is likely imagining dirk to be late teens-early 20s- and no context to how long he was in there the first time. another thing is, dirk talks about BW in a particular way- with humour, he downplays the trauma, and plays up that ~he was in a psychic prison~ to impress people. so in todd's pov, BW almost sounds like a very strict school (like how teens describe school as a prison). of course dirk doesn't- and shouldn't- have to traumadump anything, but todd has a specific idea of BW that he's been holding to for two months with no corrections to it and no real context provided. to add to that, todd is woefully optimistic. all throughout s2 he was desperately holding onto hope for things to be what they were. at the end of s1 he seemed ok(ish) with letting amanda go, then he got her phonecall and he spiralled- to a near delusional degree, basically in denial with the idea things can never go back to what he wants- until amanda tells him that is reality. self-improvement isn't smooth and linear, so him reverting isn't too shocking nor is it ooc of him. he needed to be called out and he was.

his frustration came out of nowhere. no it didn't. won't lie i'm not entirely sure how to word this one without being really blunt, but it very much was building up, dirk wasn't making it easy. ultimately i think there was some compassion fatigue- he had been trying to motivate and encourage dirk throughout s2- this wasn't a one-off time, at some point it was going to wear thin. todd has finite patience- but he did try. not to mention, todd never got openly angry with dirk in that scene, he stays relatively calm. the only time the frustration really came out was at the end, when he realised dirk wasn't coming with. also the whole yet again, dirk keeping todd at a distance thing. eventually that distrust is also going to wear todd out.

next thing, priest. todd's not stupid i mean he is but sometimes he's smart he would've picked up that priest did something to dirk- nobody knows what specifically, but there's obviously something. the only info we get (from todd's pov) is:

'-that man, Mr. Priest, I've met him before, Todd. He kills people.'

couple things to take from this: - 'i've met him before' suggests they didn't interact all that often- it sounds like they met once and a lot can happen in one meeting, of course. could be dirk downplaying his trauma again, pretending priest wasn't his childhood monster, or that he's in denial that priest did something really bad to him. but we don't know! todd isn't going to know that either - the 'he kills people' line doesn't really hold much weight for todd. how many people does he know who kill people? quite a lot at this point. priest is just another guy on the long list of guys who kill people- he doesn't know much more than that.

something else i picked up on is this scene parallels quite well with 1x01. aka dirk givig a motivational speech and todd responds with: 'No. You know what, no, I don't want to hear all that from you right now.' whilst dirk never directly says he doesn't want to hear what todd had to say in 2x07, it certainly read like he didn't want to. maybe todd recognised that (the whole self-projection thing) and decided to back-off. yeah, he was bitchy about it, but giving breathing room isn't bad and honestly? seemed like the smartest move in the heat of the moment- the whole dirk wants space when upset. not too mention, todd 100% knew what dirk was doing- pushing people away, trying to make todd hate him- see him as a bad person who hurts people, because todd does the same thing. tbh that's probably why todd got bitchy with his response- he likely saw through it and the brotzmans when they sense shit aren't gonna be that soft in their replies

i think that's all the main things i noticed about that scene. but i have a few smaller ones that link back to previous points:

dirk is dismissive, keeping todd at arm's length- he is in s1 (brushing away todd's questions) and moreso in s2 (the wet circles, not wanting todd to be in the house within a house with him,ect). the constant dismissal is going to start becoming discouraging. how is todd supposed to help someone who wants help but also doesn't want help? plus todd wants to help dirk! finding amanda is his main priority, yes. but he is down to be his assistant

todd knows dirk cares for him- doesn't know just how much- but being told that to dirk 'he's just a guy whose life he ruined' we can 1. add a big old dose of guilt on todd's end, and 2. that probably feels like a slap to the face, even if todd likely knows dirk did that on purpose. (also a smaller detail, that admittedly might be reaching a bit, during dirk's rant he mentions that '-And then I end up alone!' despite the fact todd hadn't actually left yet, hadn't given any indication that he has given up on dirk. but it reads as dirk rejecting todd already)

they don't actually know eachother that well. one week, then a two month gap, then s2 was around a week long. they absolutely haven't worked their footing out yet.

to add to that- their communication sucks. especially dirk tbh. he probably was keeping todd at arm's length in a misguided way of protecting him. and tbh i don't think dirk was ready to let todd in yet. this is nobody's fault- todd wanting to be let in, and dirk shutting him out. this could be a sperate post but i think the 2x08 rescue, and the 'don't spin out' in 2x09 was dirk finally letting todd in.

self-recognition through the other. or todd seeing himself in dirk (but not in the sexy way) the way dirk was talking, even the words he was saying, his attitude, his anger... todd's been there. and who does todd hate most of all?

todd put all his faith in dirk. granted, this is todd's own undoing and nothing dirk could've done. but dirk quitting being a detective maybe have been a reason why todd got mean. at this point todd's got no money, no job, no home, no purpose. dirk gave him a purpose that he threw away right in front of him. however, to consider- todd didn't lose faith in dirk. despite the anger and the words said, todd had total faith dirk will work it out. and he did. (this comes back to my thoughts on 2x08/2x09, so i won't delve into them here)

that's all i got for now. it's very easy to fall down a rabbit hole with this scene and these characters. and i can easily do a follow-up on this because i've def missed things. but this is getting so long. ultimately, i don't think either was in the right headspace in that scene- they had differing motivations. and neither was the villain for that.

tldr: messy situation between two messy people is messy on both ends

[phagodyke]

well 3 ppl dipped and we quit the movie bc we were too tired. but nice to talk a little anyway

[ace-din-djarin]

Let it Go, eh?

Another Ted Lasso oneshot for you all! This one is a convo between Jamie and Roy. Warning for canon-typical salty language. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

He doesn’t know why he brings it up. He and Roy are out for coffee, the way they do now sometimes, which is still fucking mental if he thinks too hard about it. Roy’s draining the last of his black coffee – god forbid he give up the theme, even in his fucking food – and something in Jamie just kind of – forces its way through.

“D’you remember,” he blurts, and Roy stops, lowers his cup, watches Jamie expectantly over the lid. Jamie swallows. His words stick in his throat, and he has to swallow again to get the feeling to go away. He hates this; every instinct screams at him to shut up, stop being so fucking weak, in the voice in his head that sounds like his dad, the one he’s been trying and trying to ignore.

“D’you remember,” he tries again, and Roy’s still watching him, eyebrows furrowed, that intense fucking gaze that’s always made Jamie feel like Roy’s x-raying his bones or some shit. “D’you remember, back when Cartrick were still here and we were shit –” Roy snorts at that, but it’s true, innit, they were fucking terrible – “When Cartrick were here, and we were shit, and we played that away match at Liverpool?”

Roy grunts. Jamie’s gonna assume it means yes. “Yeah, and I fucked up, I – tripped, I dunno, tripped over thin fucking air, yeah? And I lost the ball and lost us the match.”

Roy frowns and nods, and his eyebrows haven’t moved an inch, angry caterpillars settling in and making their fucking cock-coons. Jamie shakes his head, a rough jerk, trying to clear that image from his brain.

“Anyway. You – after the match, we were all in the dressing room all sad and shit. And you came up to me and – and said –”

“Let it go, lad,” Roy mutters, under his breath, like he’s repeating the words straight from Jamie’s brain. Jamie nods.

“Yeah. That’s it, just ‘let it go.’ But Roy –” Jamie’s words stick in his throat yet again and he huffs, half annoyed and half filled with this – this echo of astonishment that still sometimes catches him by surprise. “Fuck, Roy, you hated me.” Roy doesn’t even try to disagree, and that makes Jamie grin. “See, y’did, not even denying it. You hated me, and you still said that. Still tried to make it better.”

Roy shrugs, something self conscious in the scrunch of his shoulders. “Just being a captain, weren’t I?”

“Yeah, but like, you’ve seen my dad.”

Roy looks like he just bit into a lemon. “Unfortunately.”

“Right. And how many times d’you think he's ever told me to let something like that go?” And he’s supposed to love him, Jamie doesn’t say. That thought is a little too close to painful at the moment. “All I’m saying is, it meant a lot. Even if you still hated me after.”

Roy’s silent for what feels like ages but is probably less than a minute. Jamie’s hands are shaking just slightly, enough that his own almost-empty cup rattles against the table when he goes to pick it up. Stupid, his fucking brain says, fucking idiot, made it all weird, why’d you go and –

“Thanks, Jamie,” Roy says, breaking through Jamie’s spiral. His voice has gone all soft, and there’s a smile playing at the edge of his mouth, like he’s trying not to let it escape and it’s happening anyway. “Y’know, Phoebe was going through a ‘Frozen’ phase back then.”

It takes Jamie a few beats to connect the dots. “Fuck off,” he groans, and chucks his coffee cup at Roy, who catches it easily. He’s definitely grinning now. “I get all sentimental and shit, and now you’re saying your fucking motivational bullshit was from a fucking Disney movie?”

Roy shrugs, unrepentant. “It’s a good fucking movie, to be fair. And I still meant it.”

It is a good movie. Ted brought it out for movie night once and the room had, predictably, been full of crying grown men by the end.

“Yeah, well,” Jamie mutters, slumping down in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. He’s not mad, not really, but he still feels like Roy’s taking the piss a bit, and something in his chest stings at that. Roy seems to know it, because he stands up and prods at Jamie’s shoulder until he gets to his feet as well.

“Come on, gotta get back to it,” he says, and his voice is soft again, still with that hint of a smile. “Just let it go, eh?”

Jamie snorts despite himself, and that little twinge eases. “Yeah, yeah. After you, Grandad,” he says, and grins when Roy punches him lightly in the shoulder as he passes by.

[infinitethree]

daz you confuse me

anywho! why must you call me an asshole? i haven't talked to you in A While! maybe i'm nicer now!

admittedly i was kinda rude to you in the past. maybe when Innit's got a separate body i'll apologize!

you do have to understand, though, that the level of civility you give to Innit, is the level you'll receive from me! at least from now on! which will probably actually matter as i plan to talk to you more-

ta ta then!

Daz glowers at the wall when he hears that.

It’s not like there’s a tangible form to glare at, so generally a wall, floor, or ceiling is the next best bet. Same thing with talking to San, just more annoying because of the nature of Observers.

He’s currently in his kitchen cooking a late lunch. Aster is watching him from where he's awkwardly perched on one of the stools at the counter.

“It hasn’t been anywhere long enough for me to believe that,” he scoffs. “But, hey, at least you recognize your faults! Maybe it can lead to some character growth.”

“Don’t taunt an Observer, Daz,” Aster sighs, brows furrowed in annoyance at him instead of at the divine messenger harassing him.

Daz knows what it looks like when Aster is annoyed with him versus with anyone else. The difference is subtle, but Daz sees it often enough to clock it.

Be nice to Asher, Innit hisses, making Daz roll his eyes. “They’ve made a habit of trying to get under my skin. You’re all insane if you think I won’t make jabs back, let alone play nice.”

Aster, evidently hunting for a different avenue of discussion, asks, “Hey, Innit– which one is this Observer? Like, uh– which of the critters.”

Innit audibly perks up. Raccoon! Asher is the best friend I’ve ever had.

There’s a pause, and then it adds, Not that I don’t appreciate the others. But Asher is– really special. 

Daz opens his mouth, but there’s a quiet murmur of, They’re like my Tubbo.

And…

He feels guilty.

It’s not like he wanted to lock Innit up. But he’d been left with no choice, and he knew that trying to backtrack would be suicidal.

Hell; the only reason he agreed to let it out now is because the Showrunner agreed to ensure that it couldn’t just do the whole sleep-deprivation-torture thing again.

Knowing Innit’s lack of agency in pretty much any matter used to make him angry. At him family for breaking him like that; at himself for being so easily broken.

But…

Well, it’s not like that’ll matter soon. Innit will get its own body– a project that never should have been needed and is years belated.

The issue with splitting them apart is that, well, Innit is functionally his admin traits personified. There’s not really a way to fully split them without it causing…issues.

The best direction that the assembled mods and admin have come up with is something close to a wireless link to an organic robot. Innit will still be grounded in his head, and as a safeguard it will be returned back if a respawn is triggered.

Its body will be fine, and is being developed as a sort of shell. It can remain in what’s functionally ‘stasis’ for weeks, maybe even months, without issues.

The body would need to be given nutrients and such in a hospital if it took more than a day or so to fix, granted, but it won’t die if Innit get yeeted back at a bad time.

That’s all assuming it works as intended, of course.

Something this complicated could very easily go wrong. They’ve been testing various functions on Lucid’s testing sub-server environment– a sort a blank slate space where simulations of code can be run.

Daz’s free time is mostly spent on this project. It’s a massive undertaking, even with two minds working in tandem and several helpers.

Because make no mistake; Daz and Innit are the leads on this.

Day and Lucid have experience with extreme codework, sure, but they’re not as personally invested in this as Daz and Innit are.

Lee, of course, is there more in the hopes that he’ll learn from them than anything else. There’s a slim chance his vibes will kick in and help, but nobody is really counting on that.

Heaving a sigh and resuming his meal prep, Daz says, “Asher is the raccoon.”

“If we’re right about the audience in the Showrunner’s domain representing the Observers– or are the Observers, not like we know how they work– then…they’re definitely one of the VIP ones,” Aster murmurs to himself.

Daz says, “My theory is the more they interact with us, the more obvious they are. So Asher was the most solid-looking one. Fuck knows who the other is– Break, maybe?”

Be nice to Break.

“Break is one of Innit’s buddies, seems like. What were the other two ones– a small dragon and a mouse?” He’s pretty sure he’s remembering that right, from when Aster explained it.

“Looked bigger than a mouse. Rat, I think,” Aster corrects.

If you really have to know, Break is the dragon. And, yes, the last one is a rat. I don’t know their name, so I’ve been calling them Mithra.

He frowns, going into the Welcome Wagon name database. It’s a handy resource for anyone looking for help in finding a new name, and thus is freely accessible to anyone.

His first try– Mythra– gets close enough to get the actual entry.

…Fuck, it’s an ancient god of light, justice, and friendship.

With a long, tired sigh, he sets his com on the counter and slides it over to Aster. “That’s what they call the rat one.”

Aster’s brow creases and a horribly pitying look creeps into his eyes. “You’ll…” He hesitates, and then continues, “You’ll both be happier when you can have some space. When Innit can have some control again.”

Daz’s com is slid back, and he adds, “You still need to pick a new name, by the way.”

It won’t feel real until I can touch grass and feel the sun. I don’t want to jinx it.

“There’s nothing to jinx,” Daz scoffs as he pockets his com and finishes meal prep and shoves it in the oven. Anxiety buzzes under his skin so he does what he does best and grabs the stuff to make a dessert.

Cooking is half art half science, but leans even more heavily into science when it comes to things like baking.

He decides on something simple enough that Aster won’t look at it weird and yet has a lot of intricate steps involved.

Continuing, he reminds it, “I can’t back out, remember? I made a deal with your– fuckin’ patron god.”

I have faith you could find a way around it, if you really wanted. If you thought I was unworthy enough.

That makes him flinch. He hates that they had such a comparatively brief time being as thick as thieves, and now…

Now any goodwill is shattered.

But Innit made the first strike. It attacked when he wouldn’t follow its will– how the fuck could he trust it any more after that?

There was no other option.

Instead of letting the silence linger more, he tells Aster, “I have tomorrow off. I’m going into the Swords and Shields before lunch, but I won’t stay for long.”

His evidently future husband blinks at him. “...Okay? I don’t know why you’re warning me.” “Do I need a reason to do anything?”

Aster gives him a withering look. “You’ve never done anything you can’t justify or isn’t because of your deeply fucked up and entirely unresolved trauma.” “I resolved plenty when I watched Dream bleed out on his stupid fuckin’ blackstone brick floors.” “You know damn well that wasn’t enough, Daz. How long have you woken up in a cold sweat from nightmares he caused? How much–”

Uhg, he catches the signs of Aster seeing something again. “Fucking Prime,” Aster mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Resigned by now, Daz sighs, “What’d you see this–” “The cookies.”

He really doesn’t want to dwell on it, but the amount matters. “...How much.”

“I…I think it was a timelapse, sort of. So, uh, pretty much all of it.”

The look on his face makes Daz’s skin crawl. He wants to pick a fight, because it’s so much easier to accept Aster’s wrath than Aster’s pity.

He’s a good person, Innit repeats, almost like a warning. If you’re not gonna be good to him, maybe you should give up on him before you hurt him.

…What.

“The fuck does that mean,” he growls, bristling for reasons he can’t really put a name to. Hey, maybe if it’s just someone like you he’s into…I could give him a try.

Immediately, he snaps, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare you fuckin’ bastard! He’s–!”

He closes his mouth with an audible click before he says too much.

Fuck no, he can’t say that. It’s– it’s too weird, too untrue, too–

He’s what, Daz? Share with the class.

Through gritted teeth, furiously whisking the bowl he’s dumped things into on autopilot, he warns, “I’m not discussing this.”

Not like Innit has a chance anyway– Daz and Aster have been seeing the future, their future.

It’s…almost comforting, to have that sense of security. To know that no matter how miserable and painful it is right now, he’ll end up in a place where he’s happy.

But what if knowing is changing things? Maybe you’ve already started a new timeline, just by seeing it.

Maybe it’s not set in stone. Maybe the future is more malleable than you’re giving it credit for.

That’s…

No. No, he doesn’t want to– can’t believe that. Not when he sees something so precious and rare on the horizon– that ephemeral moonlight he can never hold onto–

Daz shakes his head, scowling. He’s not going to let these stupid mind games get to him.

He’s startled when he feels a hand on his arm, making him stop his mixing. He looks up and sees Aster looking at him with concern, having leaned across the counter.

“You okay?”

…Yeah, of course he’d be worried about this kind of thing. He’s weirdly purehearted like that– doesn’t like seeing others unhappy in front of him.

He sighs softly, forcing his body to relax. “...It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” “Daz–” “I’m not gonna talk about it with you. Push and I’ll make you go home without the damn food.”

Aster stares at him, but reluctantly pulls back.

“...Tell me if whatever it is gets to be too much. Please.” “Sure,” Daz lies, shrugging a shoulder.

He’s not going to discuss this with him any time soon, or ideally ever.

…Especially not the potential that things could be different from what they’re seeing.

Because a quiet fear has now nestled into his heart.

What would it take to push Aster too far and shatter that idyllic happiness they’ve been seeing? What would Daz be left with if the person who has seen him laid so bare decides he’s unworthy?

In his gut, he knows it would destroy him. He knows that getting confirmation that he’s truly too mangled and broken to love would kill him in all the ways that matter.

If he loses that future in his attempts to chase after it…what does he have left?

[unbindingkerberos]

Companion

Word(s): 1299

Warning(s): Animal death at the end

Tag(s): @scentedcandleibex @shegetsburned @poisonedtruth

The Pitbull pup whines in his arms.

She looks so beautiful with that gray and white coloration. He traces the outline of the small white heart-shaped mark on her forehead. The pup moves her head and sniffs the tip of his thumb. A smile spreads on his face.

The door closes and his sister warily approaches him. "You need to hide her. Now." His face drops completely and he puts the pup on the laundry basket, adding some clothes on top. Before he could ask her what's going on, they both freeze on the sound of large heavy steps making their way to the stairs.

He hides behind his sister whose hand has connected with his.

The door swings open.

--

"Oi Lt. Didn't know ya were a dog person."

A mastiff had been following them for some time now-- or rather specifically had been following Simon. The dog looks up to the skull clad man, tongue lolling out. Despite numerous attempts to shoo it away, the dog would always return. The Ghost had himself a Shadow. The man in question groans, trying his best not to trip over as the mastiff was practically all over him. 

"Have you fed him somethin' or what?" There is an amused and teasing expression in the Scot's face. "I don't know. The mutt started tailing me-- stop that." Simon gently pushes the mastiff's muzzle away from his arm. The mastiff whines and lays its form on top of Simon's foot. Soap snickers to himself as they carry on to their destination.

"Can't believe Lt's a fooking princess now." Simon groans as he withdraws his feet from the dog's laying form and follows John from behind. "You stop it now."

They had received an anonymous tip from an unknown source that details an auction involving arms dealers from various countries and automated rocket launchers. Now this was enough to get Price and Laswell's attention but both stressed out that this could be a trap and urged John and Simon to be on their guards. 

The villa comes into view. Cars are lined outside and multiple armed men are scattered throughout the area. The plan was to pose as potential buyers and--if all went according to plan-- would extract the cargo as soon as possible. 

But the moment they step foot, the guards scramble to their positions. 

"That's them-- OPEN FIRE!" 

In an instant, a barrage of bullets rained down upon John and Simon who took cover behind a wall. "How the fook were they expecting us?!" John grunts, returning fire at the enemy. Simon does the same, taking out a few men in the process. "We've been screwed over, Johnny!" John groans angrily, his bullets taking out three men. "Well thats just fookin wonderful now, innit?!"

His comms crackles alive. 

"Bravo 0-6, this is Bravo 0-7." 

"Come in Bravo-07." 

"We've been compromised. Our cover's blown, sir!" 

Price curses in the background. "Do you have a visual on the cargo?" The shootout intensifies and bullets clatter to the floor. "Negative, sir!" 

The Captain's voice glitches and the radio goes silent. "Captain?" No response. This was a really shitty situation they were in. Outnumber and outgunned, relying on a fucking wall to keep them bulletless was just great and that they had no other way of communicating with the Captain. When he finds the bastard that ratted them out, Simon will make em wish they never did so.

A bark draws their attention to the left. The same mastiff is there on the other side of the wall, completely unfazed by the ongoing chaos. "Oi, git!" John motions for the mastiff to run off. The mastiff tilts its head before sitting comfortably. "If you want that mutt not have a bullet lodge between 'is eyes, then I suggest you make it quick, Johnny!" Simon chimes in. Hearing this, John grits his teeth and his motions now desperate and fast. When the dog stands and begins walking away John sighs on the inside.

That was until the mastiff took a turn and came running towards the danger, biting one of the men in the crotch. The man screams and instinctively fires his gun in all directions. A couple of stray bullets find themselves hitting some poor unfortunate blokes.

"Well that just happened." Simon muses to himself.

Using the enemy's confusion to their advantage, John and Simon advance. A masked man notices them and shifts his gun to Simon's head. He was a bit slow on his reaction when a knife is lodged to his chest and he drops to the ground. The mastiff was quick to help. Pinning down a couple of blokes letting John and Simon finish them off. Silence soon befalls on them. The mastiff happily pads to Simon with an arm in his jaws, dropping it some meters away his feet. 

"Good boy." 

The mastiff sits in contempt, barking. John crouches down and showers the canine with pets. "You were bloody amazing, boy!" Something catches Simon's eye and he realises that the mastiff had a bulletproof vest strapped on. "Check if he has a name tag or somethin'." John palms the vest and shakes his head. "Nothing Lt." 

Simon narrows his eyes. There was more to their little friend than meets the eye. Suddenly, the mastiff stands and runs off towards the villa, following behind were him and John. Perhaps this night of questions will end with answers. Or maybe even meet with the mutt's owner.

The villa is awfully quiet and the mastiff is nowhere to be seen. They scan the interior and find that the villa completely empty until they come across an elevator with a single button going down. Simon and John glance with one another.

"Ladies first."

The trip down was tense. Both men ready themselves in case they recieve another bouquet of bullets for the housewarming party. The elevator pings open and they step out. "Fuck, I can't see nothin'." John whispers. The elevator doors shut and sooner than later the darkness engulfs them.

Suddenly the lights flash on and they are greeted with a sight. They found the arms dealers: bound to their chairs with bloodied plastic bags over their heads circling one of the missile launchers. "What the fuck?" Simon watches John approach one of the bodies and check for a pulse. 

"Whats your verdict, doc?"

"Dead as ice."

How have the men outside not know the fates of their employers? Were they simply told to stay outside and used them as bait to hold em off? That simple? "I think me head's startin' to spin for how confusin' this shit is." John gives a look at Simon. "Watcha think happen 'ere, Lt?" Simon shakes his head. "Not a clue, Johnny." He sighs, eyes landing on each body. "Not a clue." 

Jumbled and glitched words fill their ears. "Cap'n is that you?!" John presses the comms closer. 

"Soap you there?" Price sighs. "What the fuck happened back there? Are you lot alright?" 

"We are," Simon joins, "we got sum good and bad news.."

"Spill."

"We found one of the missile launchers, sir." Simon replies. "The bad news?" Simon looks over to John who fills the rest in: "Well that's the problem, Cap'n." Both find themselves staring at the looming and menacing weapon. "We found one of the missile launchers."

--

He lets the tears fall down his cheeks then unto the limp body of the pup. 

She was just. She just…. Just.

"Its okay, Henry…" His sister lets his head rest on her chest, shushing him quietly. She takes the body off his hands into the stained carpet. "She was a good dog, Henry.." She rocks him back and forth. "She's done her job well."

He moves a bit and glimpses at the body.

Trying to protect me.

[kafkaoftherubble]

Alright. I usually refrain from commenting on discourse posts—especially those that don't pertain to my usual domains because I always believe I either don't know enough or my opinions aren't something so enlightening it's worth sounding aloud—but I want to weigh in on what you reply to @/these-detestable-hands there.

Be warned, it is long—but again, if we hope to have some nuances in a conversation, brevity often does more harm than good.

I don't deny the prevalence of American (or even, as you brought up, Christian) soft power in globalization. But I don't think chalking this up as all "Americanization-is-white-washing" is remotely close to the full picture.

Why is these-detestable-hands' alternative inferences somehow an example of a "cultural Christianity" class of arguments instead of legitimate possibilities? Dude. They're themself are European. They are not White, either. When they said Europeans do don this type of aesthetics, they were just speaking from their experience growing up.

I'm from Malaysia, a Southeast Asian country that is Muslim-majority, socially conservative, and politically, visibly infused with anti-American rhetoric. And yet I've seen this same aesthetics, mixed and matched with others, among the people I live with. Mainland China has an even louder blaring of anti-American tone (it's considered a politically correct stance there), and yet some of their young people also show up in this sort of aesthetics.

Tell me: do Americans somehow have a monopoly on bun hairdos? Or that straight-short hair? Or that way of wearing a jacket? Or the man's facial hairstyle and white shirt? Or a bland t-shirt, that sort of dress, etc.?

Because I've seen similar fashion techniques in diverse cultures, past or present. The reason why they look so "whitewashed" here, methinks, is because these characters are fair-skinned. That's really it, innit? I could easily imagine a Malaysian Indian in the male's outfit, or a Chinese in that bun-haired Anna getup (bun-haired [发髻, article in Chinese] is a very ancient hairdo in Chinese history, going back about 6000 years ago or so, with many types being trendy throughout different dynasties). There's a plethora of people who could or do dress up like this. I've seen it.

Now, you might argue that this is because American soft power has become so embedded in globalization that people take up their cultural import without being aware of it. "Even if people from other countries like Malaysia adopt aesthetics like this, can we really say that it is completely devoid of American influence, considering how dominant it has become especially after World War II?"

No. I'll concede we cannot unequivocably say the American influence, however its shape or form, is absent. But I will also tell you that this argument is weak, because all cultural osmosis is multidirectional. Yes, there will be hints of American elements in certain fashion trends or aesthetics, but when it came to different parts of the globe, they always blend with local cultures (including fashion sense), and that includes Europe. By saying this "boring" aesthetics "can also be found in Europe", these-detestable-hands was (I hope I'm getting you right, mate) saying that Europeans can also just come up with this from their own local fashion sense regardless of how much American input there might be.

One of the things that really prompted me to write a response, other than your strange example for "cultural Christianity" (I'll get to that later), is the latent Americentric undertone when you refute these-detestable-hands' arguments. You made it sound like everything in this image can only be American inventions. That if I were to propose that maybe this isn't necessarily an example of "Americanization", I am being blissfully unaware of "cultural Americanism," because somehow other cultures are incapable of coming up with an aesthetic like this. Or even if they could, it's because they have seen the American Whites do it first, and so any similarity in other cultures' modern fashion sense is just following this American trend, instead of them coming up with something of their own and mix-matching different elements from different places that are not necessarily American in origin alone.

The Americentrist assumptions, therefore, are these:

People of other cultures or regions have no choice but to be subjected under American influence wholesale just because Americans have had really strong soft power tools for a few decades. This is ignoring how, in this modern era, different cultures and societies of the world often pick and choose what elements of a non-native culture they want to adopt, adapt, and reject.

People of other cultures/regions cannot possibly have come up with modern-day aesthetics that are similar to this^ on their own, even by mix-matching with whatever cultures they have seen. Even if they did, it's gotta' be Americanization at work, nothing else. To this, I wonder what un-Americanization in the modern era supposedly entailed. Are we Malaysians only allowed to be in our "traditional" outfits to be rid of "Americanization," for example? Am I, Malaysian Chinese, only allow to wear qipao or changshanzhuang to avoid the corrosive force that is "whitewashing" or the "American mold?" Do you know that the qipao is also not a purely Han Chinese cultural product, but influenced and adapted from another tribe(s) in China, among other things?

Of course that's not what you meant. I get it. My point here is to show how decrying this^ as "Americanization" without leaving room for other legitimate reasoning is itself Americentric.

"This is whitewashing; you guys just don't know it yet! They're being stripped off of their cultural background to fit into an American mold!" The non-American, who proposed a different viewpoint, are being told. But this isn't an American mold. This is a more of a modern mold—a bland fashion trend one could even say are

(1) fostered by the lack of options we have as consumers when it comes to fashion,

(2) the homogeneity of fashion sense propagated by celebrities (of different origins, I have to stress, but nonetheless they are rather homogenous because these are essentially one small elite group's preferred aesthetics being marketed toward a diverse population of different tastes),

(3) one of the safest ways to "look presentable" in the modern era when you don't want to spend too much time fussing over it, but sweatshirts, sweatpants etc. are not acceptable under your current circumstances,

and more.

It's a whole web of cause-and-effects, not a single line of it—which these-detestable-hands' arguments provide. So why dismiss them?

I suggest reading The Lies That Bind by Kwame Anthony Appiah, a Ghanian British-American philosopher. His chapter on "Culture" is exclusively devoted to topics like these, including the Americentric assumptions I marked out just now, but the entire book is a meditation on identities as a whole.

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Also: no, the idea of "revenge is good" is not believed by Christians or "people brainwashed by Christianity" only. Revenge is simply retributive justice done by an individual, and the idea of retributive justice itself predates Christianity. It is seen in the Code of Hammurabi, an ancient Babylonian legal code, for example. It's just an instinctive way of exacting justice, hence seemingly "good." I don't know what made you think it's a Christian idea, nor what examples had made you come away with that understanding.

Or maybe I misunderstood what you wrote there. In that case, my bad.

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Important addendum (to avoid having people misunderstand my position):

I did not say Americanization is not a real phenomenon. I'm a Chi-Eng translator and my translation guide is explicitly made to follow American localization regardless of the reader-base's preferred English. That's one of the many examples of it.

What I'm saying is that this particular case is not a strong case of example of "Americanization", and that the other person's arguments also legitimate.

My friend blocked me because I wouldn’t stop sending him this picture