#I hate this job so fucking much I hate working I hate all of it I don't get how I'm supposed to do this shit for the rest of my life

[ellecdc]

Can you imagine pregnant medic reader feeling baby kick for the first time and not wanting to interrupt the boys in practice/at a game but knowing how much they’d want to feel the baby?? (Can be with any of the boys or all of them LOL)

so cuttteeee

hockey!marauders x team medic!reader who interrupts practice [877 words]

CW: pregnancy, afab fem!reader, poly!marauders

The boys have been conflicted about you still working ever since they found out you were expecting. 

On one hand, they liked having you close by; within their sights should you need them, and just getting to enjoy the pregnancy with you even when they were traveling for away games.

On the other hand, they hated that you spent so much of your job on your feet, they were extremely nervous having you so close to the action of the game, and don’t even get them started when you have to step out onto the ice. 

But you were determined to work for as long as you possibly could, and you couldn’t deny that part of you enjoyed getting to spend as much time as possible with your boyfriends during this very exciting time of your lives.

Were there times you wondered if you wouldn’t perhaps benefit from a little space from them? Sure. Especially when James tried to sit in on all of your appointments with the guys to ensure you weren’t straining yourself, or when Sirius stood directly in your line of sight at every game in an attempt to ‘save you from the tomfoolery, babe’, or when Remus shoved anyone who tried to help you out onto the ice so he could chaperone you himself.

But there were moments - like this - that found you so grateful to have them close by. 

“You okay, mama?” Coach Moody asked, though he didn’t bother moving his gaze from the ice where head coach Albus was standing with the boys for practice. “You seem jumpy.” 

You hummed in agreement as you placed a hand on your stomach; gently pushing and prodding what felt like a hard part of a little body, wondering if you were only imagining it. 

You’d become aware that you weren’t simply growing at about eighteen weeks into your pregnancy when you felt the baby move for the first time. It was like you remembered that your pants were shrinking for an actual reason. But any movement on the baby's part could only be felt internally.

Today, however-

“Oh.” You whispered, and Moody wrenched his eyes from the ice to grab your elbow.

“Doc? Are you okay?” 

“Yes, yes. Sorry.” You let out with a laugh; looking to the ice to ensure the boys couldn’t see you being fussed over even though you sort of wanted to call them over here yourself. 

“What do you need?” Moody gruffed, though he kept his voice low as if knowing any attention directed your way would result in cacophony from nearly half the team.

“No, nothing. Sorry Coach.” You laughed. “I just…I think, well, the baby’s kicking.” 

Moody furrowed his eyes at you as he examined your face; one blue eye piercing and intuitive, the other glass eye which saw the iris and pupil replaced by the Gryffindor Lion’s logo seemed just as knowing.

“First time?” 

“First time I can feel it with my hand, yeah.” 

He looked you over one last time, cautiously removing his hand from your elbow and looking out onto the ice before blowing his whistle. 

“Gather ‘round.” He barked, and though Albus looked confused, he allowed the team to head to the bench. 

“Did ya miss us, Moody?” Sirius sing-songed as he made his way over, James laughing and Remus rolling his eyes in response. 

“The only time I get any peace is when the lot of you fuck off.” Moody barked back, but his face stayed soft. “Your baby’s kicking.” 

Sirius’ teasing smirk fell quickly as he whipped his head to you, James nearly fell over in his haste to make it to you and Remus quickly skated around the clump of bodies to join him; all three of them leaning against the boards in front of you.

“You didn’t have to stop practice for this…” You chided Moody gently, but it seemed that Sirus, James, and Remus weren’t the only one’s excited about it. 

“Oh my god! Can I feel!?” Fenwick called, earning him an elbow in the side from Remus. 

“Not before us? What the fuck…” Sirius mumbled, keeping his eyes on your stomach as if he could see it. 

“Well hurry up then! You’ve got a line behind you.” Grönvall hollered then.

“Goalie first; is rule.” Krum muttered as he placed himself in front of both Fenwick and Grönvall, though politely stayed behind the three boys who all tucked one glove under their opposite arm and held their hands out to you. 

The practice arena fell quiet as the entire team held their breath, and you felt sort of horrified at the sudden pressure to perform.

“This will be so embarrassing if it doesn’t happen again.” You admitted quietly, suddenly very embarrassed to have interrupted practice.

Remus made a humming sound in dissent as he brushed his thumb over your belly, and then it happened.

“Holy shit!” James cheered, Sirius’ head snapping up to beam a smile at you.

“Did you feel that!?” Sirius asked no one in particular, but you, James, and Remus all confirmed that you did.

“Okay great! Next!” Dearborn called from behind Grönvall, and that’s how you ended up spending the rest of the practice with various hands on your stomach at any given moment.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙄𝙫𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Angst (Happy ending of course)

Warnings: Abusive father! Violence, Blood, Alcohol, Sick mother, Lots of cursing. Father is a real piece of shit and puts hands on reader multiple times. Sorry for any mistakes or missing tags.

Just for another warning because I think it’s important. This has content that could trigger some people. Please please read the warnings. If any of them make you uncomfortable please don’t read. Also a reminder. You’re not alone. No one ever should be laying their hands on you. I love you. You’re loved. You don’t ever deserve anything like this.

Find The Request Here

-🖤

Changbin wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to him. He kissed your neck tenderly nuzzling himself into your neck. You both were snuggled up on the couch watching a show. “My angel” he said softly before softly kissing your neck once more. When you were with him it felt like nothing else mattered like the world was alright. Your moment of happiness was short lived though seeing your phone buzzing. It was your father. Just seeing his name flash on your phone made you anxious.

After your mother had passed away your dad became an even bigger monster. He was always a good for nothing, But now not working as much as he did he stayed home drinking. Your mother had told you before the only reason she had stayed with him was because she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Her family was from another country, she didn’t have much money or friends. She was such a brave woman though. You don’t know how she dealt with him so long but I guess him never really being home helped. He had gotten fired from his big job because of his drinking and anger problems. Going to work one day hungover and punching a coworker so hard it broke his nose. He had to pay a hefty fine for that. Now he has a slow job where he only works a few days.

One of your earliest memories of him being his asshole self was him telling you how he hated that you were a girl. He hated that in his words ‘that useless bitch couldn’t even give me a boy.’ He wanted a son so badly and he made sure you knew that. He never really bonded with you however he’d be damned if you didn’t respect his authority. The first time he ever laid hands on you, you were 9. You accidentally knocked over a table braking the lamp that was placed on it. He grabbed you by the wrist smacking you across the face. ‘You stupid fucking brat! Look what you did, you’re just like your fucking mother!’ He spat pushing you away from him.

After that day it just kept going. Having to wear long sleeves at school to hide the bruises. At one point you had to stay home for almost a week. You had stepped in front of him to protect your mom when he hit you square in the face busting your lip. It stayed swollen and bruised for a while. Tooth slightly cracked from the incident.

You wanted so badly to tell someone. Confide in a teacher anything. You were scared to though. Scared they’d blame your mom, put her in jail and take you away. So you endured it. As your mom started to get sick he turned more of his attacks on you. Although a complete peace of shit he wasn’t stupid. He knew if he did anything to her the doctors would see it.

After she had passed you kept yourself from the house as best as you could. Not going home as much as you possibly could. You got a job at a cafe down the road and that’s how you met changbin. He was a regular who once you started talking admitted to only coming so much to see you.

You kept your home life a secret to him as much as you could but one day you were getting intimate you forgot about the bruises. When he had lifted your shirt his smile dropped. He looked at you with wide eyes “what the fuck? Who did this to you?” He said clenching his jaw. All you could do was sob he held you in his arms rubbing your back. “I’m sorry for raising my voice I just- y/n please- what happened?” He asked.

Through your sobs you told him, you unloaded everything in a word vomit of sadness. He would and wanted to go find your father. To beat him senseless, to show him how it feels but he knew you needed him more. He held you so tightly, feeling his own heart breaking from your words. Knowing a family member could do this to someone they were supposed to protect. To love and cherish just broke him. He was such a family oriented person and now he realized why you never wanted him to meet him. Never talked about him. He asked why you couldn’t just leave explaining to him how your mother wasn’t from here, how you had no family and no one else to rely on.

“Shit- it’s my dad” you said frantically picking the phone up.

“Where the fuck are you? He spat.

“I’m- I’m just at a friend’s house” you stuttered.

He laughed “sure, you’re probably slutting around. Get your fucking ass home.”

He hung up leaving you shaking. “I gotta go.” You said picking your keys up.

“Y/n you don’t have to” Changbin said with pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You said before heading to the door.

Your brain wondered what was going on. Why he needed you home. As you pulled up coming through the door you saw him slumped in his usual chair. “About fucking time” he hissed. “Do something useful and go get me some more beer” he demanded.

You stood there almost dumb founded. Before he hissed again “don’t make me say it again!”

You nodded heading down to the store and getting it for him. When you got home again you sat the beer beside him. He gave you a smirk “glad you know how to listen” he chuckled. Your nose twitched at his smell, you hated being close to him. The smell of alcohol, cigarettes and B.O. always radiated off of him. He motioned for you to leave and you did slinking back to your room to text changbin.

Him: Y/n! Text me back! I’m worried!

You: I’m fine. He just wanted beer

Him: I swear I’ll end him one of these days

You: I’m gonna go to bed ok? I’ll see you in the morning! Love you!

Him: Love you to beautiful. Text me when you wake up🖤

You fell asleep shortly after always finding peace in sleep. The next few days were the same old. Going to Changbins after work going home late when you knew he’d be passed out. Today though. You had to run home for your wallet. When you walked through the door your dad was in the kitchen. You took one look around and realized something had to have happened. Things were thrown around. Smashed. Your body froze before you could go to walk back out he saw you.

“Where do you think you’re fucking going!” He yelled. He made a bee line toward you.

“I’m- I’m picking up another shift at work I just came home to grab something.” You lied.

“Bull fucking shit!” He spat.

He grabbed you by your throat lifting you up against the wall. His eyes were dark, knuckles bloody from punching the wall. “I get fucking fired from my god damn job only to come home to see you running back out? For what huh? To go fucking whore around some more?” He said. “No! There’s gonna be some fucking changes!” He screamed.

He dropped you to the floor before grabbing you by your wrist dragging you to the kitchen. “You’re gonna get another fucking job, you’re gonna start paying the other bills!” He spat. “You got it!”

When you didn’t answer right away he slapped more like punched you across the face. “Answer me bitch!” He said gritting his teeth. All you could do was nod scared for your life. You felt a warmth running down, your nose was bleeding.

“You’re fucking pathetic you know that, just like your fucking mother! That bitch. That bitch fucking deserved what she got! I’m glad she’s fucking dead!” He spat. Something had come over you at that point. You shoved back making him stumble backwards. You made a dash to the door luckily in his drunken stupor he stumbled getting back up. You ran. Not even bothering getting in your car afraid it take to long.

So you ran. You ran as fast as you could until you couldn’t anymore. You hid yourself in the bushes at the park panting. Trying to catch your breath as you fumbled to call changbin. “Hey angel” he said happily but when he heard you breathing heavy his heart sank. “Y/n what’s wrong? Are you ok?” He asked.

“I’m- I’m at the- park down- down the road- please” you stuttered out.

“Stay there I’m just down the road!” He said before grabbing his keys speeding to you.

He gripped the steering wheel afraid for what had happened. “Angel? I’m here!” He yelled out.

You peaked your head out, when he got a good look at you anger filled his body. ‘That mother fucker’ he snarled. There was no time to be angry right now though. You needed him. So desperately needed him.

He sat beside you pulling you into his arms. He took his jacket placing it around you as he whipped away the blood from your nose. He noticed the handprint mark around your neck, he gritted his teeth seething. You sobbed, holding onto him for dear life. He rubbed your back “ssh sh it’s ok angel, I’m here, I got you.” He said.

He rocked you back and forth letting your sobs subside before asking you anything. “Does it hurt?” He asked lifting your face to him looking over your nose and neck. You nodded. It hurt to swallow, hurt to breathe, everything just hurt. “Can I take you to the hospital?” He asked. You were hesitant but you nodded.

The car ride there all he could do was watch over you. Scared something could seriously be wrong. Cursing at himself for not being there. He was in the process of finding a new place. A new place so you could move in with him. The only reason you didn’t live with him now was for the fact he had other roommates and if the tenant found out about you they all could be evicted. He was gonna surprise you today with the good news, that he found a place. Close to his work and close to a bakery you had wanted to work at.

When he had gotten to the hospital they all looked at him like he had done it. They checked you over asked him a million questions. The cops being called from below to ask him questions. They weren’t completely shocked when they heard your dad’s name. He was notorious for his anger outbursts and violence. He had a list of charges that had gotten one being the man he punched at his old job. They wrote everything down, took pictures of your bruises and wounds. Asking you lots of questions before leaving.

“Y/n did you know you had a broken rib at one point?” A nurse asking you.

You shook your head.

“Looks like it happened a while ago, it fused back but not properly. You ever have sharp pains?” She asked.

“Yeah, she use to complain about side pains but they kinda just stopped.” Changbin chimed in.

“How is she right now?” Changbin asked.

“Nothings broken however you’re lucky, the pressure he had around your throat bruised your vocal cords. Any harder you could be looking at serious damage”

The nurse had left to grab some papers changbin took your hand into his. He kissed your cheek softly rubbing his thumb over yours. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there” he said softly.

You shook your head “I don’t want him hurting you either” you said looking up at him.

“I’m proud of you though, pushing back and getting yourself out of there. Your mom would be proud” he said with a small smile. His words made you smile a bit. “She definitely would.”

“I had some news to tell you” he said hoping this would make you smile.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’m moving. Well we’re moving” he said with a smile. When you looked at him a bit confused his smile grew “I got a place for the two of us. Wish it could have happened sooner but-“ he said.

You wrapped your arms around him hugging him tightly “we’re gonna live together? I’ll get to spend all the time with you?” You said eagerly.

“Yep! Got the keys today!”

When the door opened you thought it was the nurse however it was an officer. “Y/n we have your father in custody. Do you have a place to stay for the mean time?” He asked looking over at your boyfriend.

“I do, but can I go back and get something’s you asked.

The officer nodded “I’ll have to escort you because it’s a crime scene now.”

You nodded.

“Whenever you get discharged we can go alright?” He said before walking out.

After you went to the house grabbing your clothes, laptop and a few things you smiled saying good riddance to this place. You had the few things from your mom packed, having nothing more in this house for you.

Moving in with changbin was something to get use to. However he helped you every step of the way. You got into much needed therapy and after your father’s sentence you felt like things were going up. As a little house warming gift Changbin had surprised you with a cat. You had bonded with him with the many times he had taken you to the cat cafe. You always said how much you wanted him and now you had him. You had your little family now.

Changbin showered you in love as usual, never missing a chance to compliment you, praise you and tell you how much he loved you. You knew in your heart your mom wherever she was, she was happy. Happy seeing her little girl finally get out of the situation. To live her life to the fullest.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

[yukioos]

hiii honey!! can i request a leon and ada drabble kinda like ur ashley and leon one? but this time reader takes a liking to both but leon and ada don’t like each other?

BE MY BABY

SUMMARY: on september 29, 1998, you first met leon kennedy and ada wong. six years later, you are sent to rescue the president’s daughter from a town in spain. the last people you expect to be there are leon and ada, who both seem to have an attraction to you. unfortunately, they seem to hate each other more than ever.

WARNINGS: not proofread, cussing, reader’s in the military, ada and leon literally hate each other

AUTHORS NOTE: hi guys! please send resident evil asks because i had so much fun writing this! this is kind of like my ashley and leon writing, so it’s not necessarily a full-on oneshot. it’s basically just ideas. this is 1.1k words.

being in the military is hard work. hours on the field and time-consuming training and meetings have tired you out quicker than you expected. but there is one thing you know for sure: being in the military isn’t for everyone.

september 29, 1998 was the day that changed your life. living in raccoon city was great, it had a supportive community and historical sites to visit once and a while. you’d just gotten home from a mission that took half a month to complete. you quickly became a lieutenant, and ever since then, your days have been filled with leading troops through missions.

however, you didn’t have much time at home before you had to evacuate to the police department because of the zombies. on your way to the department, you met a man who claimed his name was leon kennedy, and he was a police officer who was supposed to start his job that day. he was a sweetheart, far too kind and caring to be deserving of dealing with a traumatic outbreak.

for the hours you spent together, you learned a lot about him, and vice versa. he was a sweetheart, but you could see the sadness and pain behind his eyes. this certainly wasn’t how he expected his first day to go. unfortunately, it was as if the zombies were perpetual, almost every time you’d turn a corner, a hoard would be walking toward you.

the two of you then met a supposed fbi agent, who introduced herself as ada wong. she was mysterious, leaving randomly with no answers, leaving you feeling annoyed. there was something different about her, something wrong. you believed there was no way an fbi agent would randomly leave an officer and a lieutenant on their own to do their own thing, especially not in that situation.

you eventually parted ways with the two of them and found yourself safe for a short period.

six years later, you still remember leon and ada, secretly hoping they’re still safe or in touch. the trauma had followed you, and when you were sent by the president to find his daughter, you of course accepted. it seemed iffy that she was kidnapped by a cult, in a rural town in spain, but nonetheless, you did what you had to do.

he stated you would be accompanied by an agent, who he didn’t name. only when you saw another person standing by the police car to drive you to spain, did you realize who the man was.

leon fucking kennedy. he was actually alive.

your heart flutters as he gently says your name, “y/n?” and you softly smile, you feel exhilarating, and happiness runs through your veins.

instead of a quiet ride, like you would have preferred with anyone else, you and leon discuss what had happened the past six years. he had become an agent with the role of protecting the president’s family, and at the same time, you were moving up the ranks as fast as lightning. the president wanted the best and most talented people to save his daughter. luckily, he chose the perfect team.

you ask what happened with ada, and your heart drops once he tells you she’s a spy.

she seemed genuine, but your suspicions were proven right, she was just trying to get the g-virus and bring it back to her boss.even after hearing all that, you still feel sad for her. she went through so much, and the only two people who went through exactly what she did probably hate her.

but when exploring spain, you never would’ve expected to see her again. you persuade yourself to trust her again, because, in the end, she desires the best for the world.

leon feels the opposite about ada. he hates everything she does, every little word she oh-so confidently says, and how she’s always doing so much for you. she left the two of you, she doesn’t deserve you, as he thinks. he doesn’t want you and him to get manipulated again, and he thinks the two of you share the passion of hating ada.

leon took in all the words you said in the car ride to spain, but was mostly focusing on your plump lips. the way your lips would stretch into a smile, the sides curving upwards, would make his body feel warm. he missed you so much, more than words could describe. every day, he thought about seeing you again. he didn’t even know you were still alive until he heard the president mention your name once. as he spoke highly of you, pride bloomed in leon’s chest. he knew you before you became a very well-known military asset.

leon knew he fell in love easily. hell, he fell in love with you the first time he saw you at the police station. you were in the prettiest outfit, and once you escaped the department, he saw your necklace that had been lying on your chest, dropped on the ground. he kept that necklace for the next six years in hopes of bringing it back to you one day.

he gave it back to you in the police car, telling you straight up, and how he had hoped he would see you again someday. the gratefulness and red cheeks made him quietly chuckle. he secretly relished in the idea of you being flustered and touched because of him.

in 1998, ada felt the need to protect you and leon, she thought she felt attracted to him at one point. she then realized the idea of being with you would be much more wholesome and better for you. leon was just a rookie who didn’t know anything! there was no way you would warm up to him quicker than her

the rookie hardly knew anything, he clearly wasn’t taught to be weary of other people. he was too gullible, in ada’s opinion. there wasn’t many good things about him. his jokes weren’t funny, he didn’t have many appealing qualities, so clearly she was a much better partner for you.

seeing you in your cute, dark blue button-up blouse and black skirt makes her eye you like a dog eyeing a cat. she wants you all to herself, and will do anything to gain that. she would gently lift your chin or tease you while talking to you, asking “are you listening? seems like your mind is somewhere else.” and hook her arm around your waist to redirect you to a different path.

but she and leon knew the other won’t give up on attaining your love. i mean, who wouldn’t want you? you are the most perfect person ever, perfect qualities, perfect beauty, perfect skills, and that’s something they can both agree on. the spy and agent both want you to have the best partner, but both believe they are the one for you.

you hate how they can’t see eye to eye on what you think about the two of them. you love both of them. leon’s chuckle and jokes make you feel like you have a heart attack— in the best way possible, though! he always finds a way to brighten your mood whenever you are feeling upset and will voice his concerns about you. he was straightforward, and you love that in a person. another reason why you love him is that he’s one of the most handsome people you’ve ever seen. whenever his eyes wander into yours, your cheeks feel a little too hot beyond comfort.

ada is beautiful, and you are sure of one thing. red is her fucking color. i mean, god, you’ve spent days just thinking about who could wear red better than her, and that wasn’t even one of the main reasons why you love her! the way she does everything in a confident matter makes you adore her, she seems so sure of herself. she was so strong and far more talented than anyone you’ve known. the way she effortlessly avoids danger like the back of her hand, and protects you from it as well, makes your cheeks flush.

how were you supposed to choose between two of the best people in the world? the hours you spend with them are supposed to be calm, besides finding ashley, but instead, it’s stressful. all that time you only think about finding the president’s daughter, and the two love interests that cloud your mind for eternity.

[centrally-unplanned]

(Link embed not working? Okay)

Okay a bit surprised at this one! Back during the July Crisis I had a very clear logic in mind. I thought Kamala was a weak candidate, she was a very bad pick in 2020 for all the wrong reasons and being BIden's VP was bad baggage. Biden stepping down and having a process where a strong candidate with none of the Biden stain could emerge seemed ideal to me - US campaigns are way too long anyway, it being "rushed" could be a blessing in disguise.

However, that was impossible - the Democrat's org structure is just too sclerotic to throw that together. If it hasn't been approved by eight committees over the course of two years of debate, it can't be done. So in practice, Kamala was the only bet. She is the VP, that is literally their job and why they exist, so we could all default to Kamala, throw Biden into an early grave, and sail off into the tail end of Brat Summer to go down actually putting up a fight.

(And she did better than I expected! Props to her, pity about that last bit)

What all this means is that my assumption was that Biden endorsing Harris was something everyone was on the same page about! It was the only option, and so who would bother dissenting? But now Nancy Pelosi is out here telling me it was a fait accompli and she was actually discussing having an open primary? Was that really in cards?

So Pelosi is definitely a bit of a schemer, so I wouldn't be shocked if this is a bit of a white lie to burnish her rep. Still, she is also very much a schemer, and so maybe she actually could have pulled off getting the DNC to commit to an open primary? My respect for her would go way up in that case - way to really understand the problem at the critical moment.

And my respect for Biden would go way down. We all know Kamala was a mistake at this point as a VP choice, the entire logic behind it was backwards (Why was the candidate earning the overwhelming support of black voters feeling compelled to choose a black woman to double-represent them? Oh, she didn't, she represented the white vote? Uhhhh). But it was a mistake of the past, and so you had to deal with it. Now, though, it comes off as doubling down on that mistake! Just not acknowledging the political errors of the past four years.

Which is a recurring theme of this year - constant whining from the Biden camp that their record wasn't being "sold hard enough" to a voting public that fucking hated him. I can almost imagine it as a moment of stubborness - fine, you don't want me? Then you get my VP; my choice, *I* get to decide.

I don't want to read too much into one article of course, but it is one more datapoint for my already strongly held prior that the Biden team just completely lost the plot in 2024.

[fromthestacks]

I’ve been sitting with this for a couple days because I want to respond (hopefully) thoughtfully. And on the one hand, it’s a really good point and I can see how all the “I hate men” stuff could wear on the guys who AREN’T, you know, raging assholes. But on the other hand, my forty years of lived experience is pushing back on that. Long-winded rant under the cut.

I have a fair amount of men in my life by choice- family, friends, boyfriend. The ones I choose to spend time with are, by and large, really good guys. They’ve also heard more than their fair share of my own “I hate men” rants, and to their credit they’ve never been upset about it. They know I don’t mean them because my words and actions back it up, and they understand where I’m coming from because they hear the stories accompanying said rants and generally agree with my assessment.

All this to say, as much as I sympathize with the good guys who have to listen to the “I hate men” rants, I also very much don’t, because they have arguably more power to help shift that narrative than I do. The shitty men of the world do not care that people think they’re shitty, they are not changed by reason or logic. Men who, for example, sexually harass women don’t (generally) hear the many, many stories from women’s perspectives and have a lightbulb moment where they realize how wrong they’ve been. They will likely never be Ebenezer Scrooge throwing open the windows to wish the town poors a merry Christmas. But maybe, just maybe, if enough of the good guys start speaking up to call them on their behavior, that might have even a small effect on them.

“It shouldn’t be our responsibility” well no shit, grown adults shouldn’t need to be spoon fed basic human decency, but here we are. Women telling men how much we hate being catcalled doesn’t seem to be fucking working, so if the good guys aren’t willing to try telling them, then I’m out of ideas that aren’t along the lines of Goodbye Earl.

One last thing, this is getting away from me. I work a public service job, and it involves a fair amount of face time with people needing help finding things and using stuff like printers. I’m always polite and reasonably friendly, but it’s never anything beyond professionally kind. Even at that, it’s more than half of my interactions with men that leave me feeling uncomfortable. I’ve had men try to take my hand, I’ve had men ask if I’m single thirty seconds into me walking to their computer to help, I’ve had men stand right behind my chair while I’m looking something up. “Why don’t you just say something to them?” Because I’m not trying to get assaulted or shouted at, I’m trying to make it to the end of my shift and go home. It’s extremely well documented that a lot of men don’t handle rejection well, which ends with a lot of women getting assaulted or worse. And the thing about THAT is, you never know which men are gonna be the ones to lose their cool. So you just hedge your bets and tread carefully with everyone in case.

SO. What this very long-winded rant is saying, is that a lot of women encounter a lot of shitty men, and it sucks absolute donkey dick to deal with. If the good guys out there want to stop hearing about how terrible men are, they need to step the fuck up and help, because women are exhausted. The other, smaller, part that they might not like is that it’s not our job to constantly reassure them that I don’t include them when I say “I hate men”. If I’m spending time with you, and trusting you with these stories or complaining or whatever, then go ahead and take it on faith that I don’t mean you.

Maybe I’m alone in feeling this way, I don’t know. Just needed to get this out there.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[gothghostiie]

I’m so fricking pissed about this but recently discovered that like… Me likes my feet being loved upon… so what I’m saying is uhhhhh

taskforceandlosvaquerosandgraveshavingafootfetish

God love your soul if you follow through, you’re stronger than me

you're braver than me bc I'd never admit that 🫡 jokes aside tho, i genuinely dont see the need for all the hate on foot fetishes, theyre overhated and i stand by that

also I never wrote anything for feet or even like,, got into the topic but ill try

cw: foot fetish (reader getting their feet loved on), foot job, bdsm, bondage, orgasm denial, gn!reader

Price is totally down for it. he wouldn't say he has a foot fetish, but when he kneels down to slip your socks and shoes on for you, gently caressing the skin and placing soft kisses on your ankle while going down further, he's almost embarrassed at how hard he gets when he glances up at you and sees you biting your lip.

Soap is into pretty much anything under the sun, so might as well be into feet no? his absolute favourite about it is getting a footjob or fucking between your soft soles. humping them like a dog in heat, leaning down to sloppily make out with you while he cums.

Gaz isnt a foot guy but who would he be if he didn't worship every part of his darlings body? massaging your feet after a shower, using your favourite lotion while grinning up at you. lips pressing gentle kisses to your toes, litte love bites by your ankles as he works his way up.

Ghost is keen to love on your feet in his own way, which (un)fortunately for you entices testing out how much your little feet can take. bullying his cock into you while taking a cane to your soles, grinning at the way you whine and squirm in your bounds, clenching even more around his fat cock.

Alejandro is a nasty fucking dog. down to try anything once. so when you bring it up it doesnt take long before youre under him, ankles on his shoulders while he fucks into you, big hand grabbing your foot and pushing it close, tongue trailing along it between love bites and suckling on your skin.

Graves is a dirty bastard and i stand by it. will fuck anything on you he can, and i mean anything; especially if he can tease you with it. so why not tie your feet sole to sole, fucking the space between while taunting you with how good he's feeling while you won't get to cum like this.

Rodolfo is more shy but definitely into it as much as you are. your feet on his lap while you watch TV, thumb rubbing your ankle mindlessly as the bulge in his pants grows harder and harder, you teasingly rub against him a bit. before either of you know it hes desperately humping your feet while quiet begging emerges from his throat.

[salmonrowe]

This is a 150 page, partially incomplete graphic novel. I worked on it October 2022 to April 2024, though the story originates from 2018. That year I was 21, and I was living alone, working as a housekeeper while the rest of my family took care of my dying alcoholic father. Life in general was bad but I hated that job in particular so fucking much; I had gotten the job when I realized I couldn’t afford art school. I often drew gory scenes and characters on hotel stationary for comfort (catharsis?), and at some point began telling myself a story: A sad girl is decapitated and becomes two distinct identities. The body runs away while the head attempts to follow. What happens in between was never quite set in stone but involved lots of blood and guts. I called it AmenAmy (from a song) as a placeholder(I could never think of anything better). I then thumb nailed the original draft in a frenzy and was completely consumed by it since. From the beginning there was a focus on stylization and composition, which would end up a defining trait along with an intense dissatisfaction for my work. I would continuously scrap progress to begin again, over and over and over. The story has literally countless drafts between then and now, each varying in style and theme, yet through them all I worked out my obsessions and anxieties. Death and the transformation of the body (stemming from my dads long illness and slow death), loneliness and depersonalization (stemming from my sheltered and isolated life) with underlying themes of repression and sexual frustration (don’t worry about it). For six tumultuous years AmenAmy was an outlet through which I processed my art as well as my life. I could just never fucking finish it. This is the closest I got, and perhaps the closest I’ll ever get to something intentional. I don’t know if it’s a good comic, but at the very least it’s interesting. I hope people get some enjoyment out of it, because I did love drawing it. After this maybe I’ll move on, or I might keep making the same thing over and over. Let’s see.

https://salmonrowe.itch.io/amenamy

[s0uth3park]

Random SP headcanons pt2

Pt 1

Tweek tried to, but ultimately will never, learn how to drive with heavy advice from his loved ones (Craig). It’s too stressful. It’s dangerous because of his anxiety and tics for others and himself. No driving for Tweek. Please.

Cartman doesn’t make fun of Craig for being “half ginger” because he’s a little scared of him… kind of.

Speaking of, Cartman showed Craig his own wiener (as per TxC) of his own volition.

Fat fucking crush on Kyle btw.

If Stan hates that he looks like his dad then he hates that Kyle looks like his mom btw. Because… alcoholic x radical canadaphobe?? Fuck knows.

Stan shakes on weed (no projection here). He can’t feel it though.

Speaking of, Tweek can’t feel his own shaking.

Cartman wishes that Kenny would act how he would / seeks Kenny’s validation, hence his criticism of Kenny of the most menial of things (ie. holding a candle in Put It Down).

If there was money for it, Karen would own a lot of stuffed animals.

Kevin and Karen do not carry the gene for red hair. Or blond/blonde hair.

Cartman loves his fucking grandma. (No projection I swear)

Jimbo holds some affection for Liane but is just a gay old fuck. Jimned 4eva

Did I mention in my last post I think, despite Mrs Valmer’s canon design, that Mrs Tweak has the biggest tits? I’m saying it again if so

SHE AND RICHARD SCREW SO BAD I KNOW I SAID BUT PLEASE UNDERSTAND–

I know I said last post that I didn’t know how Tweek and Butters would be cousins but now I’ve decided… people can think differently because anything goes but for me it’s through both fathers. Tweak Bros. originates from Mrs. Tweak’s father and to earn the right to marry her he had to win him over and show his dedication to the profession

Richard and Stephen got grounded a LOT

Linda and Sheila’s hair always smells incredible (so much product)

Sheila is the type of grandma to give out stale sweeties

The Marsh name ends with Stanley. The bloodline ends with both him and Shelley

Heidi is the mother of Kyle’s kids (coping)

Cartman only became homeless after his mother died

He never worked ever (garageman future aside)

Clyde got vaccinated guys we can all rest now (the bad future self came back to tell him to never do it but once the good future is put into play he gets vaccinated because there was no bad future to come back to tell him)

Clyde is very girldad coded, soz

Bebe’s dad is a bit younger than her mom (he is the ultimate girldad… Mr. Stevens I wish I knew your name)

Clyde gets more insecure about his weight / appearance as he gets older. For now he is young however so let him live (his pudge is the pudge ever and he is sonboy if not a carnal dream and a half… latter only in pcov ofc)

Mr. Stevens helps Bebe with her homework a fuckton (particularly maths)

Butters bites his nails

Butters (after growing up) loves strong women. Look at his Pcov design and tell me he doesn’t want / have / respect a buff wife.

If Butters wasn’t grounded as much as a kid he wouldn’t have a fear of expectations as much as he does, meaning he would have probably gotten a better job than working in Dennybees or whatever it was called. Bro could have been a multi billionaire girlboss

I just want someone to hear this it’s not really a headcanon but BHLK Queen Thistle? LINDA STOTCH? Same character different nationalities istg

Kyle plays chaperone a fair bit to the guys

Kyle, Tolkien and Craig are the most sensible drivers out of All The Boys (Tolkien behind Craig and Kyle if I’m being honest)

Kenny and Bebe (Bebe isn’t a boy but YKWIM) are the fucking fastest / most reckless

Clyde and Stan are sort of not great but not bad drivers

Jimmy is rather close to Tolkien in terms of driving skill yk

Butters, Cartman, Tweek don’t drive – Cartman out of laziness / expectation of chaperones, and Butters and Tweek out of stress… Tweek tried to learn though

Craig in later years drives Tweek everywhere

Tweek and Cartman have experienced heart attacks (in later years) but for different reasons to the other. Clyde has come very close. So has Craig, though not as close.

Tweek dies before Craig.

Stan dies before Kyle.

Butters dies before Kenny (ironically).

Craig visits Tweek’s grave with flowers every week??

Craig, as an old man, where’s a lot of fucking cardigans. Grandpa shirts too (the things without the collars).

Tweek and Craig have matching anythings. Typically slippers.

Bebe is very handsy and sometimes possessive. Clyde thinks it’s “sweet”. (The dudebro sweet not the romantic sweet through the possessiveness originates from romanticism).

In Pcov Clyde is a delivery man, actually

Out of all the couples, it would always be Clybe to cause the most hickeys

Bebe has a flatter ass than brilliant boobs (opposite for Wendy, though Wendy isn’t flat chested)

Nichole bleaches her skin in the future (it’s sad but look at her design. Out of everything else it’s the most unrecognisable and it’s awful)

Nichole loves 60s/70s paraphernalia and fashion (the ultimate flower power child)

Wendy and Cartman fuck at least once in their lifetimes. They take it to the grave, but because of this Cartman doesn’t die a fucking virgin

That sounds so damn harsh wth but it’s true (I think Cartman doesn’t really have any labels moreso is just attached to certain people when it’s not just himself *cough cough* Kyle and Wendy *cough cough*)

Jimmy can see perfectly fine out of both eyes until he reaches teenhood

Jimmy has two brown haired alleles

Cartman doesn’t make fun of Kenny or Craig for having a ginger / red haired parent because he thinks they’re pretty cool. He lowkey ships them / wants to be them.

Cartman has the gene for ginger hair.

[liquidorcard]

HEY Y'ALL IT'S MIKAILER WITH AN "ER" WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO GRASP!?

---

Did I get your attention, Mikaila? I hope so, let's see.

Mikaila, I don't like you. You've done shit that's soured my opinion of you. I'm acknowledging that now to get that out of the way. I'm not here to be two-faced about this or blow smoke up your ass.

But as one idiot who stayed in a toxic relationship to another-- I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better. I know. Being in a relationship like that brings out some ugly shit. You resent and fear people will never forgive you. You don't know if you will forgive yourself. I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better than you.

And it feels kinda good, being treated badly? In a weird way? When you're used to it? When you feel you kind of deserve it? It did for me too. My abuser did some fucked up shit to me. I don't know how to describe to you the strange feelings I'm left with now. Sometimes I think I finally hate her, sometimes, as pathetic as it makes me feel, I still miss her. It's a rot in you that never really goes away, but you learn to live with it. I understand that agony. I understand that anger of how fucking unfair it is.

You know my opinion of Lily. You're not going to trust me that I'm not saying all this just to get you two to break up to hurt her. Fair. Very fair, not going to pretend like it's not. But if Lily loves you, nothing I'm about to say should be an issue. She should want what's best for you, right?

Here's the rub Mikaila, it's been a few years now. I know you want out of your situation at home, but it doesn't seem like Lily's going to be able to help you with that at this point. I'm sure Lily's given you plenty of reasons as to why, and it's time to listen to her.

If you're heart's set on coming to Canada, your best bet is getting a job here. Or even, going to school. Art degrees (Here in Canada) aren't as expensive, provided you go to the right school. Even taking out a student loan for just one year to figure your shit out. I know you're in quite a bit of debt right now and don't want to get into more, but. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Here's the college I went to. Yes, your work is sufficient to potentially get admitted. Believe it or not, art school's get that illustration is a learned skill. Artists start from all different levels:

Look through the admissions requirements to see if you have the academic records to be admitted. If not, you could also consider upgrading through online classes aswell.

Again though, your best bet is to try to find employment. The cost of living isn't great here right now, but it isn't great anywhere. I doubt you'll be able to find cheaper rent in America.

Once you're here or wherever you end up, away from the chaos of your home, you might find it a lot easier to get your head around, establishing some better independence and becoming a citizen by yourself. It's a shitty process, but not as bad as the one you guys have in the States. We stan an immigrant here.

You need to look out for you, Mikaila. It's not selfish. It's not a matter of whether you "really deserve it or not." Nobody's going to save you. You're emotionally spent because of your parents, You're emotionally spent because of Lily. And it feels kind of nice how much Lily needs you. But you can't help her until you help yourself - and again, if we're all wrong and Lily really loves you, she shouldn't have a problem with you finding your way.

My own mother once told me I was "born sad." I've never not hated myself. I ate up any little bit of love and validation no matter how many bitter, razor pills that came with it too. That's just how it is for some of us.

But you know what Mikaila? Fuck em. Fuck all of them. Fuck everything. Fuck me, Mikaila. You've got one life. One body. One you. Whatever you think of her, someone's gotta fight for that poor bitch. Why not you fight for you?

Everyone's a stinky meat bag stripped down, Mikaila. Everyone's made a fool in the wake of the shit people like you and I have been through. Not everyone's going to be able to forgive everything, but everyone's not wholly past forgiveness.

I'm no better than you Mikaila. Nobody is. Some of us just get to know the worst sides of ourselves better than others.

I don't like some of the things you've done, girl. But I see you. I get it. Tell us all to eat shit. Fix your life. Don't rely on Lily to make you feel whole or to save you. To make you feel worthy. No person can do that. She could be the reincarnation of Mary Mother of God herself, and you couldn't expect that from her. Be your own advocate. If your relationship isn't toxic, it can survive you becoming a more whole you.

This asshole is rooting for you. Give me an excuse to undoomer "Mikailer." My girl needs a win.

[anonymous-dentist]

Bleeding Heart Part Six

Part One | Previous Part

-

Almost two months after his first altercation with Hombre Misterioso, Cellbit hears a knock at his door as he's editing the last of Roier's photos.

Yawning, Cellbit leans his chair back and runs a hand through his hair. He cracks his neck and blearily checks the time in the bottom corner of his computer screen: three in the afternoon. He started editing almost nine hours ago. He's been out of coffee for two and a half hours at least.

So he gets up, groans as his spine protests at the sudden weight, winces as his bones all pop in quick succession. Picks up his coffee mug, ignores the knocking at the door, goes to start a fresh pot of coffee.

His mug was painted by Richarlyson at one of those do-your-own-pottery places. It's a bright, ugly yellow with a red heart and the words, 'World's Okayest Dad' painted on it in black.

The knocking continues.

Cellbit checks his hair in his reflection in the microwave. Pulls at one of the bags under his eyes. Sticks his tongue out. Grimaces at how stupid and old and tired he looks. (Bagi is 26, he thinks, so he should be, too. But, wow, he looks older. Much older.)

More knocking.

With one last forlorn look at his bubbling, brewing, beautiful coffee, Cellbit finally goes to answer the door. He's in his pajamas (sweats and one of Felps' old shirts), and he probably looks like a walking corpse, but, like. Whatever, anyone stupid enough to actually come to his apartment knows that he works from home. They should know what to expect when bothering him.

But:

"Hi!" Bluebird cheerfully says as soon as Cellbit's door is open.

Cellbit looks at her. He blinks, rubs his eyes with one hand, and moves to close the door in her face.

But he's stopped by Bluebird sticking her foot in the door and weaseling past him and into the apartment. She apologizes as she does so, but Cellbit knows that she doesn't mean it; she's a hero.

"Nice place," she comments, walking to the couch and plopping herself down like she's right at home.

"Um," awkwardly says Cellbit. "Get out of my house?"

"Who, me?"

Bluebird actually, really, legitimately looks around the room dramatically, head and hair whipping back and forth as she tries to find whoever it is that Cellbit is actually talking to.

Cellbit balls his hands into fists by his sides. Fucking. Heroes.

Bluebird's costume is basic: black undersuit, light blue vest and darker blue pants, white ski goggles. Her hair is halfway tied back in a ponytail. Her weapon of choice, her now-famous scythe, is on her back and digging into Cellbit's couch cushions. The Federation's logo is right on her chest, and all her sponsors' logos run down her sleeves and the legs of her pants.

Cellbit hates her. She isn't even making an attempt to hide her identity- the goggles aren't doing shit. Heroes don't have to hide themselves. Their faces are on cereal boxes. Bluebird is no exception, especially now that her popularity is skyrocketing.

Bluebird, of course, is assigned to find and defeat Hombre Misterioso. The public thinks that her job is to capture them so they can be tried and imprisoned in the Federation's special underwater prison facility. But Cellbit knows that she's going to kill Hombre Misterioso, and it'll be framed as an accident, and she'll get 'suspended' for a month or so as punishment but, really, it'll actually be a vacation reward for a job well done.

"What do you want," Cellbit flatly asks.

Sighing, he nudges the door shut behind him and leans against it, arms crossed.

Bluebird stares at him for a moment.

(Bare arms crossed, scars and all.)

And then she lets out a breath and crosses her legs, fold her hands neatly on top of her knees and tries to smile. Tries, because Cellbit can tell that her heart isn't in it.

"Hey," she hesitantly says, "so I'm supposed to be asking you about Hombre Misterioso and stuff, but, real quick, I just wanna say that I'm really sorry if Cucurucho's been bothering you."

"You're wasting your time," Cellbit tells her. "Get out of here before I call the cops for trespassing."

Bagi would love to arrest a Fed, even if the charge wouldn't stick longer than an hour after arrest.

Bluebird winces. "O-kaaaay, sensing some hostility here. But, listen, we all just want this guy caught, right?"

"Sure. It's a real shame what's happening to all your heroes."

"It is! And you almost ended up like them, but! But you didn't."

"Yeah." Cellbit nods. "Because I'm not one of you. You're talking to the wrong guy."

He smells coffee.

Ignoring Bluebird for the moment, he walks through the main room and past the couch and the hero on it so he can squeeze into the kitchen. His apartment isn't small, but the kitchen table takes up a solid ninety-percent of the kitchen's floorspace. It even dips into the main room, making it real hard to get around at night when the lights are off.

He grabs his mug and the coffee pot and pours himself a fresh cup. He can feel the warmth radiating out from them both, and he shivers involuntarily. (He usually wears a hoodie when he's working, but he spilled coffee on it earlier in the afternoon and hasn't gotten around to getting a fresh one out of the closet.)

Bluebird, of course, follows him. She hovers in the doorway near the end of the table; her scythe is tall enough to almost scrape the top of the doorway.

Cellbit raises his mug to his lips.

"You might not realize this, but you were probably targeted," Bluebird says, actually almost sounding serious. "Your parents might be dead, but you and your sister aren't."

Cellbit jerks so hard in response that he spills his fresh, hot, boiling coffee all down his front. But he can barely feel it through the sudden rush of hatred in his body.

"My parents had nothing to do with the Federation," he snaps. He pulls his wet shirt out in front of him and wrinkles his nose. "Excuse me."

He puts his cup down on the counter and pushes past a surprised Bluebird to go to his room. He actually manages to close this door behind him as he pulls his shirt off and starts searching for a new one.

As he's digging through his shirt drawer, he hears a tap-tap-tap at the window behind his desk.

Dread filling his veins, Cellbit turns around and sees a familiar gas mask poking out over the top of his computer monitor.

Hombre Misterioso waves.

Cellbit, suddenly, feels rather faint.

"No, sorry!" Bluebird calls through the closed door. "That was my bad! I meant your, uh, the parents you and your sister share? Not your actual parents."

Cellbit points aggressively at the window and mouths, 'Get the hell out of here!'

Hombre Misterioso just waves some more. They're absolutely smiling under their mask.

It's the afternoon. They haven't been seen once in the day, only at night. Sometimes in the evening. Rarely at dawn. Not when the sun is out; it's theorized that their powers relate to the darkness like the Demon's.

"I have nothing to do with those people," Cellbit huffs. He turns back around and grabs a random shirt out of the drawer and starts pulling it on. "Cucurucho probably made you read my file, right? So you should know that."

"It... briefly mentions the Webbers, but that's not what's important!" Bluebid protests. "The Federation is really worried about your safety here, dude! My partner, Lavagirl, is currently talking with your sister about this exact same thing."

"You'll have better luck with her. She's actually on your payroll."

"Yeah, so her time with the Junior Heroes actually makes her a bigger target than you, probably, but, listen-"

Somehow, Cellbit's window starts to squeak open behind him.

He whips around and glares at Hombre Misterioso, who freezes in place with their fingers on the glass. Are those... suction cups on their fingertips? What, are they a thief now? A Spider-Man wannabe?

"No!" Cellbit shouts.

Hombre Misterioso flips him off with a palpable roll of the eyes.

Bluebird repeats, "'No'? Aren't you listening to me right now? Hombre Misterioso is trying to kill you!"

Cellbit laughs dryly. "Yeah, no."

He angrily drives his finger downwards: 'Get down.'

Hombre Misterioso shakes their head.

Cellbit rolls his eyes and points at his bedroom door: 'Someone's here!'

Hombre Misterioso shrugs and starts moving his window again.

Cellbit bites back a groan and rushes to slam his window shut, having to reach around his computer to do it. It slams, and then it's immediately being raised again by the goddamn menace on the fire escape outside.

"Are you okay in there?" Bluebird worriedly asks. "You didn't get burned or anything, right?"

"Mmm, yeah, no, I'm burned as shit," Cellbit lies.

He hisses, eyes narrowed, "Fuck off! There is literally a superhero in my living room right now!"

Hombre Misterioso responds by pulling their cape aside and revealing the hilt of their sword.

"No!"

"Do I need to call an ambulance or something?" Bluebird asks.

"No, I'm fine!" Cellbit replies. "I'm putting on some burn cream now!"

"...You keep that stuff in your bedroom?"

"My computer is old as shit and I have to run Photoshop on it. I burn myself daily. Just... get out of here!"

Cellbit, only vaguely panicked, suddenly grabs an exacto knife from his supplies drawer and drags it across his palm.

Hombre Misterioso lets out an alarmed-sounding electronic gasp, but Cellbit just grits his teeth through the pain and forces a string of his blood out of his hand and around the window's latch and then around the leg of the desk. It ties itself off with a neat knot; Cellbit forces his bleeding to stop and starts willing his platelets to kick into action.

"No, wait, I'm a hero!" Bluebird argues. "I'm trained in first aid! Let me help!"

"I'm literally shirtless!" Cellbit, wearing a shirt, shouts. "Get the fuck out of my apartment!"

"Not until I know you're okay! Do you know how much trouble I'll get in if they find out I let a civilian get hurt?"

Oh, Cellbit knows.

The window rattles and strains as the string of blood keeps it shut. (Blood is made of iron, after all.)

With his palm already scabbing, Cellbit storms towards the door and slams it open, blocking his desk and window from view with his body.

Bluebird looks up at him, determined.

Cellbit wants to stab her.

Instead, he says, "Look, I'm not the guy you want to talk to about this. Your partner is already talking to Bagi, but you both have forgotten about the guy who chased Hombre Misterioso away from me that time."

(The window goes silent.)

For whatever reason, Bluebird sucks in a sharp breath before attempting a smile.

"Oh, Roier?" she asks. "We don't need to talk to him."

Cellbit cocks his head. "Really? Because I was unconscious. I can't tell you anything about what Hombre Misterioso was doing. But Roier saw it all."

"And he talked to the police."

"But Hombre Misterioso has to be pissed at him for ruining their kill, right?" Cellbit asks. "Serial killers always end up escalating outside of their pattern, everybody who's studied them knows this. They lose control. The pattern now is Federation workers, but maybe it'll expand to people protecting Federation workers."

Bluebird pales.

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "Come on, have you really not thought of that? Aren't you guys supposed to be, like, crime experts?"

"Hey! I'm new!"

"Yeah, and you're letting a civilian stay in danger because you're too focused on protecting a failed lab experiment," Cellbit scoffs. "Trust me, if this guy knows as much about me as you think they do, then they know that I'm not the guy they want to kill. They're looking for people who like the Federation, not people who hate it."

Bluebird narrows her eyes. "That's a dangerous thing to say to a superhero, you know."

Cellbit shrugs. "Sue me. You read my file, you know that I'm more likely to be a suspect here than a victim."

She nods. "...Yeah, but you don't have powers. And they do."

He smiles bitterly. "Right."

He looks at Bluebird.

Bluebird looks at him.

"Well?" he asks. "It's a couple of hours until the sun sets, and Roier's going to be leaving work soon. In that area of town? It's only a matter of time until Hombre Misterioso catches him."

There's a quiet laugh from the window.

Cellbit quickly covers it up with a cough and a faux-pained wheeze. He grips at his chest, wincing.

Bluebird's eyes widen. "Oh, shit! Right! Your burn!"

He waves her off. "Don't worry about it, I texted my friend. He's a doctor, he's on his way."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Pac from Chume Labs? He probably helped develop your training program."

"Oh, shit, you're friends with him?" she gasps.

"What can I say? Us Brazilians gotta stick together."

"Huh. Fair. Well..."

She looks uncertain, but she nods, acquiescing. "Fine. If he's coming. But, listen, call the hotline if you see Hombre Misterioso around, okay? You might not have the... best history with us, but the Federation is good people."

Cellbit smiles. "Get out of my apartment."

Once she's gone, Cellbit lets out a scream into his hands and turns to go and yell at Hombre Misterioso some. What the fuck!

He storms to the window and drops the string. It falls apart, blood splashing onto the desk and the carpet.

He wrenches the window open and finds himself nose-to-nose with Hombre Misterioso.

Well.

Nose to gas mask.

"What do you want?" Cellbit growls.

"Who was that?" Hombre Misterioso replies.

"Bluebird. You know, the hero literally assigned to kill you?"

Hombre Misterioso's shoulders tense minutely. "Oh."

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Now. What do you want? The sun is out. And I hate you."

"Ouch."

"Don't act surprised. You're literally stalking me."

"I'm not. But I am here for a good reason."

"You are literally at my apartment." Cellbit blinks. He flushes red in both anger and embarrassment. "You saw me shirtless!"

"And it was very nice, but I'm here to tell you that I am going to kill Iron Boy tonight at midnight."

Iron Boy... former Junior Hero, graduated a few years ago into the mainline hero program, no known powers but an affinity for technology. Otherwise known as Tubbo, one of Pac's coworkers at the lab, and one of Cellbit's biggest haters for no good reason.

Tubbo isn't that old. He's a mentor hero for the Junior Heroes. He doesn't do much actual hero-ing outside of escorting the juniors on crime fighting field trips and testing out weapons for the lab.

Cellbit shakes his head. "Not him."

"Yes, him."

"Do someone else. Without him, the lab is understaffed until Mike gets back from his honeymoon, and we don't know when that's going to be. Kill him when Mike's back."

"Ugh, fine," Hombre Misterioso groans. They slump against the windowsill and rest their chin on their arms. "Who should I kill, then?"

"Why are you asking me?" Cellbit asks. "I'm not a villain, in case you haven't noticed. I'm retired."

"Whatever you say, enigmito." They drum their fingers against the inside of Cellbit's wall. "Maybe I should find Sharkboy."

"Fuck Sharkboy," Cellbit immediately declares. "If you can find him, kill his ass. But he's also retired. Nobody from the Order has been able to track him down."

"Maybe I should find one of those French heroes," Hombre Misterioso muses. "What do you think?"

"I think that I should give you Crow Man's phone number so you can ask him about this and not me."

Suddenly, Hombre Misterioso sits up and snaps their fingers.

"I know!" they excitedly say. "Man-Bear!"

Man-Bear... must be one of the newer heroes that Cellbit doesn't know about. Richarlyson might have heard of him, but. Yeah, no, Cellbit isn't going to ask him. He doesn't want to risk a repeat of the aquarium.

"Fine, Man-Bear," Cellbit sighs. He gives Hombre Misterioso a tired look. "Is that all? Can you go now? And never come back? And leave me alone?"

"I mean, you can come with me toni-" Hombre Misterioso starts.

They freeze.

Cellbit watches their still body until they come back to themselves in the middle of a different sentence and in a different pose: gesturing grandly with their hands and audibly smiling.

"-a team!"

"Yeah, no," Cellbit immediately says. "I can get you the Demon, if you want? But he's kind of on a murder break right now..."

(Fatherhood really has mellowed Bad out, hasn't it?)

Hombre Misterioso audibly grimaces. "I fucking hate that guy. Look, I'll call you with the details tonight when it's about to happen. You can show up if you want. If you don't, it's no big deal, you can just come to the next one."

"Please don't do that."

"Don't worry, I still have your number."

"I'm literally going to go change it as soon as you're gone."

"You won't." They tilt their head tauntingly. "You want to keep an eye on me. If you don't, how will you keep me away from your son?"

The hair on the back of Cellbit's neck stands on end.

"You haven't changed your number since I first called you," they say. "You won't do it now."

They laugh, slow and deliberate and absolutely just grating on Cellbit's ears.

"I'll see you tonight," they say.

Cellbit slams the window shut and backs away from it.

Hombre Misterioso wiggles their fingers in a farewell, and then they hop over the edge of the fire escape and drop out of view.

...Maybe. Maybe, Cellbit should call Bagi.

-

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! I want to hear your theories, thoughts, opinions, everything!

[sampirism]

talkn bout my opinions on rook and varric and roleplay and feeling disconnected (roleplay in a game sense not the freaky sense. sorry) - SPOILERS FOR ENTIRE GAME, BEWARE. this post is WAY too long. sorry about that too.

it's very evident that bioware/EA wanted an action/adventure game first and an RPG second, but let me type at you.

i hate to say that i didn't feel particularly sad about varric's fate, due to the structure of the game. it is, in hindsight, completely obvious that he was not alive! i just hadn't been thinking about varric much at all the entire game because you have limited opportunity to talk to him in the infirmary or when he plops around barefoot when everyone decides to sit at a table and talk about how fucked we are. i genuinely forgot he was there otherwise.

he barely feels like a guy himself. because there's no personalized worldstate, any specific mentions to events or characters might be jarring to the player who may have made a different choice along the way.

no one talks about how sorry they are about varric because they CAN'T or the twist is completely revealed. even with another DA2 character in the game (who my hawke romanced. who is now dead in the fade. glad to see you're LIVING IT UP ISABELA!!! (I'm jk. a little.))

there's no response rook can say to condolences outside of "oh, thanks" without the game fully revealing its Twist, because "I'll tell him you said hi" and "he'll be up and walking in no time!" are only reasonable responses from a Mourn Watcher, and even then, should still cause your companions to be a little alarmed. the closest we get to this is the inquisitor making reference to lost friends, and rook visually registers it, but its swept under the rug and moved on from immediately.

(i know we're all mentally unwell in this lighthouse repressing our feelings but jesus christ)

despite spending two games with him and enjoying him as a character, I struggle with feeling much for his loss AS my rook, because i found there to be no meaningful connection between him and rook. i was only told i was supposed to have one.

the game wanted so badly get the ball rolling with an immediate threat, its at the expense of roleplay. you could argue that da2 and inq also started with Immediate Threats but you are also very limited in the choosing of your backstory in those games.

rook was deliberately designed to be more open-ended, with more similarity to origins, but still gave you a prequel where you felt what your life was before The World Began To End.

there's this conversation you can walk in on with lucanis and davrin, where they're talking about their worst jobs. there are three dialogue for rook I think and i can only remember two but they were "I don't want to talk about it" or "man I have the dreadwolf in my head". (I... honestly think the third option was very similar to the second one but I have a very bad memory. sorry)

i played a mourn watcher mage. i had to have done some messed up spirit stuff. some bone shenanigans. not able to mention my Down With Nobles rebellion at all. i halfway expected it to be revealed that my rook was just like a shitty pawn (haha) and actually all her memories are fake and not real. but obviously you meet people from your shared backstory and they do know OF you but they don't really know you

in mass effect 1, there were some unique missions related to both the backstory and psychological profile you picked for shepard. they were short, and nothing happens like that in 2+3 that i remember, but they are unique to your character and are something at least.

no one really asks you much more about yourself! mourn watcher rook is literally Found In The Crypts as an Infant, an incredible mystery that you have to fill in the blanks yourself, which could be something someone wants-- but i personally like my characters a little more predefined in a game such as dragon age. vague history worked for me in games like skyrim and fallout new vegas, even baldurs gate! but makes me feel wholly disconnected from the story and group here.

there was a fair amount of dialogue choices for mourn watcher, especially with Emmrich-- talking with emmrich was one of the few times my rook felt like A Person-- but there were other times that my companions seemed to think emmrich was the only necromancer/watcher on the team. (i even specialized in death caller!)

by containing all the dialogue with companions to ! markers and outings, it's weird to be unable to have any conversations without being able to provide personal insight, whereas some NPCs in inquisition actively asked you about your past.

its particularly noticeable because of lucanis, whom my rook romanced. the dude has a lot to say about nevarran culture and the necropolis and such, and we can have zero conversations on the matter lol.

maybe this is like, really a mourn watcher thing? maybe it feels better as a crow or a warden. but if you offer me the choice to be a freak crawling around in a tomb. i am going to be.

TLDR: i really feel that a prequel mission, a recruitment by varric then a timeskip, a personal quest tied to the consequences of your backstory, something, anything, to make rook feel like an actual part of the world, was a necessity and sincerely a missed opportunity. if you actually read this far, thanks!

[deoidesign]

when your main characters start dating after years of writing so they finally get to be like this

[lycandrophile]

today, my coworkers’ refusal to see me as a man put one of our patients in a position where they felt unsafe for the third time. i’ve been at this job for less than two months total. i don’t even care about getting misgendered anymore, i just want the people we’re supposed to be taking care of to feel comfortable around me.

i work at a hospital where we have to supervise our patients in a lot of vulnerable situations. there are safeguarding rules in place for certain things that male employees aren’t allowed to be present for when it comes to female patients. and yet, the people training me and telling me what to do have repeatedly put me in situations where i’ve been forced to do things that the female patients aren’t comfortable with me doing. and because they have repeatedly failed to teach me the rules for doing my job as a man, i have no way of knowing when i’m crossing one of those lines unless one of the patients tells me.

i’ve had to watch a victim of SA stare at me in abject terror as my coworkers asked her to strip naked with me still in the room. it took several minutes for her to even be able to speak enough to ask if i could leave the room. i found out after that she broke down crying the moment i walked out. my biggest regret is that i didn’t realize what was happening fast enough to leave before she ever had to say something, because she shouldn’t have had to say it. i never should’ve been allowed in the room in the first place, because that’s not something male employees are supposed to be present for. but i didn’t know that yet, because i was training and i thought surely, they wouldn’t train me to do something that directly violated their own safeguarding rules. that moment was the first time, and it’s haunted me ever since, but it wasn’t the last time. not only did it happen for the third time today — it almost happened for the fourth, and would have if someone hadn’t spoken up to say they should pick someone else. i care for these people so deeply, it’s why i took this job, and i’m so tired of hearing the fear in their voices when they have to ask me not to do something i never should’ve been told to do.

i’m very used to the personal discomfort of being misgendered. i willingly deal with it a lot at work as well as in other situations, not because i’m in the closet (at this point in my medical transition that would be impossible), but because it’s such a frequent occurrence with my coworkers that we would never get anything done if i took the time to correct them every time. but to see it get to the point of causing such visceral discomfort in other people? people i’m supposed to be taking care of and keeping safe? that’s something else entirely, and i’m fucking exhausted.

and after all of that, some of them still look at me like i have two heads when they tell me what to do and i say “i can’t do that, only female employees can” because i’m learning now. clearly i’m already seen as a man by our patients, but my coworkers would still rather put them in an unsafe situation than just train me as a man.

[shadyhouse]

if anyone is able to help me out i'd appreciate it, im still broke as hell. this month has been really difficult for me. i worked a total of 5 days all month and my bank account is in the negatives again after paying bills and getting some living essentials. i dont know how im going to pay my rent like this. i applied to a financial relief fund from a local trans advocacy group but it's going to be a few weeks until anything comes from that. if you have literally anything to spare it would help me out a lot 😭🙏 i feel bad ive been asking for help so often and i know everyone is struggling, im working on getting my life back in order but everything fucking sucks and is difficult right now :( even just spreading this is a huge help

pp: paypal.me/bewearrr vnm: tobias_leviathan

thank you 💕💕

[puppiedogs]

my job has had me on forced leave for six months and now i've reached my credit card limit which is the only way i've been able to pay my mortgage this whole time!!! and it fucking sucks!!! it sucks so much!!! i've been applying and applying and applying to other jobs and most of them don't even send back a rejection, i just never hear from them. it's hard not to feel demoralized when most of the time it feels like i'm submitting job applications into some black void of nothingness. i hate doing this, it makes me feel sick, i hate asking for help, i hate when i have no other option but to ask for help. if anyone has anything they can spare, i'd really appreciate it. i don't really know what else to say. everything feels so insurmountable.

p@yp@l - here you go

c@sh@pp - here you go also as well

[bunnihearted]

i learned at a young age that there is no help in society and that asking for help only makes people irritated with you, and that if you tell people things they won't believe you and deny your pain even exists. this is why it is fkn baffling to me that there are adults in this world who walk around thinking that this magical asking for help thing works and that anybody gives a fuck about anyone. like what fkn world do u live in???? if u tell ppl how others hurt you u are a liar, it didnt happen. if u ask for help bc you can barely function, they'll slap your hand away and say that u're fine stop whining. "DaRE tO aSk fOr HeLp" what fkn help are y'all talking abt?