#Rebuff Reality

[adamruns]

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[so-true-overdue]

Oh, sure, human-caused climate change is just a figment of our collective imagination, despite the overwhelming scientific consensus and mountains of evidence. I mean, who really cares about record-breaking temperatures, melting ice caps, rising sea levels, and increasingly frequent and severe natural disasters? Those are probably just nature's quirky way of keeping things interesting. And let's not forget the 97% of climate scientists who are clearly in on some elaborate prank, insisting that our burning of fossil fuels, deforestation, and industrial activities are to blame. It's not like they're basing their conclusions on decades of meticulous research, peer-reviewed studies, and empirical data. No, they're just trying to ruin the fun for everyone. So, by all means, let's keep pretending that human-caused climate change is a myth and hope that Mother Nature gets the joke soon.

[lettersiarrange]

Want to emphasize the above commentary ^^^

A lot of times when neurotypicals refuse to answer they're not intentionally trying to be dicks; it's because other neurotypical people will play dumb and ask "Well what did I do?" To avoid accountability. Neurotypicals who don't want to indulge this will refuse to answer, thinking you're trying to manipulate them.

You know weaponized incompetence? "What did I do wrong / I didn't know I was doing it wrong / I don't know how to do it" is a classic refrain for someone trying to avoid taking responsibility and wanting to force others to do work for them.

Another common manipulation tactic is DARVO. Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender.

Consider an interaction like the below:

Person A: I can't believe you. You're such a jerk

Person B: what did I do??

Person A: ??? You called me a 'fat, ugly loser' in front of all of our friends??

Person B: 🙄 you're so sensitive. It was just a joke. Chill out.

Person A: It didn't seem like a joke. And even if it was, it was a cruel thing to say

Person B: God you're so fucking humorless. What is wrong with you. You always act like I'm some kind of evil villain. I can't even make a joke without you blowing up at me.

By asking person A to name what the specific problem was, it allowed person B to refute the behavior and turn it around on person A. We all know person B knows what they did wrong. They just don't care. By engaging at all, person A allows them an opportunity to manipulate them and be even more hurtful and dismissive. Whereas if Person A simply condemned their behavior and refused to engage in the conversation, person B wouldn't have an opening, and Person A gets to subtly convey "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, because I know you'll just use it as an opportunity to manipulate me if I do. I'm done playing your games."

Now, am I saying it's right for a neurotypical person to refuse to explain to a neurodivergent person what they did wrong? No. I'm just saying that the neurotypical person probably isn't doing it out of malice, or intentional ableism, or spite. They probably assume the neurodivergent person knows what they did and is looking for an opening to manipulate them.

As the above poster explains, the best way to circumvent this is to be genuine in explaining that you struggle with understanding social norms, are upset to have hurt them, and want to do better next time/make it up to them. There is always the possibility that the neurotypical person may not believe you because they've been burned too many times by manipulators, but that's life. They're much more likely to believe you and explain to you what you did wrong, though, if you take the above poster's advice in phrasing.

[churchofnix]

In the grand cathedral of inquiry, where the stained glass of skepticism casts intricate patterns upon the altar of truth, the act of rebuff is a sacred rite. With unyielding resolve, we cast aside the beguiling whispers of fallacy, the seductive allure of baseless conjecture. Here, in the hallowed halls of the scientific method, we embrace the rebuff as our guiding star, illuminating the path through the labyrinth of ignorance. Each hypothesis, scrutinized under the relentless gaze of empirical evidence, must withstand the crucible of rigorous testing. For in the rebuff, we find not the death of ideas, but the resurrection of knowledge, purified and strengthened, ascending towards the zenith of understanding.

[believe-you-me-you-believe-me]

Discover the subtle art of influence with "Rebuff," the psychological tactic that turns the tables in your favor. By strategically rejecting or dismissing someone's proposal or idea, you create a powerful dynamic that compels them to seek your approval. Watch as they strive harder to win you over, opening up opportunities for you to guide the conversation, negotiate better deals, and steer outcomes to your advantage. Perfect for business negotiations, social interactions, and more—master the power of rebuff and become the ultimate persuader.

[faith-in-democracy]

Rebuffing, when executed thoughtfully and respectfully, plays a crucial role in fostering civility and reinforcing faith in democracy. It allows individuals to express dissenting opinions without fear of personal attack, thus encouraging a culture of open dialogue and mutual respect. By addressing disagreements constructively, we can prevent the escalation of conflicts and build a more inclusive environment where diverse perspectives are valued. This process not only strengthens the democratic fabric by ensuring that all voices are heard but also promotes a more empathetic and understanding society, where the common good prevails over individual differences. In essence, rebuffing with civility can transform potential discord into opportunities for growth and consensus, reinforcing our collective commitment to democratic ideals.

[capitalism-is-a-psychopathy]

The psychopathy of capitalism, particularly in the context of rebuff, manifests through a systematic and often cold-blooded rejection of ethical considerations in favor of relentless profit maximization. This economic paradigm, characterized by an insatiable pursuit of growth, inherently devalues human well-being and environmental sustainability. Such psychopathy is evident in the ruthless dismissal of social responsibility, where corporations and individuals alike adopt a predatory approach to economic interactions, prioritizing financial gain over communal welfare. This ideological stance, rooted in neoliberal principles, engenders a callous disregard for the socioeconomic disparities it exacerbates, effectively normalizing the marginalization of vulnerable populations. Consequently, the rebuff of moral imperatives within capitalism's framework underscores a broader pathological indifference to the societal and ecological consequences of unbridled market dynamics. This phenomenon highlights a critical tension between the imperatives of ethical governance and the self-serving motivations entrenched within capitalist systems.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: I got like insanely sick suddenly and I still feel off.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Sam, that paradise punch was a bad idea,” you groan as you struggle to get your bag out of the trunk of the taxi. 

“Whatever,” Sam slurs as he comes around, “I tipped the driver extra. Bud, you think you can get this out for the lady?” 

The driver is all to helpful as he comes around you take the handle from you and swiftly plants the bag on its wheels. It’s everything you have that isn’t bundled up into storage or sacrificed to the dumpster. You thank the man and swallow a belch. 

“Have a safe trip, miss,” the driver nods and turns to slap Sam’s arm, “and you, sir.” 

Sam salutes the man and pushes away from the cab, your carry-on slung from his shoulder. The two of you clumsily lift the bag over the curb. You look up at the airport as the roar of jet engines cuts through the dusky air. 

“I feel like I’m drunker,” Sam snickers. 

“Uh huh, me too,” you murmur. Two hours on his couch was barely enough. If anything, it’s just set your vision askew. “They’re not gonna let me board if – hiccup—I'm blasted.” 

“Don’t worry, we can get water,” he blathers and yanks your bag onto its wheels, “off to the land of vikings! Skol!” 

“Skol?” You follow him in a clamour. 

“It’s what they say, isn’t it?” He chuckles, “I saw it on a show or whatever.” 

“I... yeah, usually while they drink, not stumbling drunk,” you rebuff. 

“Sound pretty sober to me with all that whining,” he rebukes. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes and follow him through the automatic doors. 

He veers off and you follow him in confusion, glancing back at the check-in counter. He stops before a bright vending machine and feels around in his pocket. He taps his card and focuses intently on pressing the button. 

“Waterrrrr,” he drones and leans on the machine to reach through the slot. 

He hands it over and you unscrew the cap. You chug half the bottle and let out an obnoxious belch. You cover your mouth in embarrassment and offer him the rest. He finishes it off and you linger by the machine as you let the cool flow settle in. 

“Feel any better?” He asks. 

“A little. I’ll have a coffee on the plane.” 

“Nah, you should sleep.” 

“Maybe,” you take out your phone and tap the side button. Nothing. 

“Anything from Mr. Carter?” Sam asks. 

“No,” you black the screen and shrug. “Come on, I gotta check my bag.” 

“You should check that boy,” he blathers as he stands straight and once more yanks the bag after you, “tell him what’s what.” 

“Sam, he’s busy--” 

“He’s your best friend! At least, he likes to say so then do nothing.” 

“Quit,” you beg him, “this is hard enough.” 

“This is what you need--” 

“I know!” You throw your hands up and face him as you come up before the counter. “I know. Okay. I’m stupid and---” you shake your head and let the truth sink back into the depths of your soul. You face the clerk and sigh, “I’m sorry, I’m here to check my bag.” 

You pull out your wallet and slide your passport across the counter. You show your boarding pass and pay for the extra weight. Your bid a safe journey and carry on with only the smaller bag still on Sam’s shoulder. 

Wordlessly, you sit in a row of seats. You look up at the clock. You’ll have to go to the boarding area sooner than later. He won’t be able to come with you. 

“Sam, I’m sorry. I just... is it that obvious?” You croak. 

He puts his hand on your back and rubs it gently. It’s soothing. The tension trickles down your sides and seeps out. It feels good to admit it aloud yet mortifying just the same. 

“No, I just sense these things. I know Steve, I know you, and I know he doesn’t deserve you. Even as just friends.” 

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands, “I am so stupid.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re human. It stinks. Our brains, our hearts, they aren’t logical, as much as we like to pretend,” he huffs, “trust me. We’ve all been there and if we haven’t, we’ll get our turn.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” you sit up as your eyes glisten, “I just... he said he’d be here. I thought I’d at least get that--” 

Your name echoes through the airy space and you wince. Right on cue, just before you can collapse completely. You turn as Steve rushes toward you. He wears jeans and grey sweatshirt. He remembered! 

You stand as Sam sighs. You smile, only halfway before you see the figure trailing behind him. Peggy looks less than excited to be there. Her sleepy lashes flutter as her wave hair is pinned back in a messy chignon, still elegant despite the carelessness. She wears a dark green trench over a silver satin nightie. She must’ve rushed out with him. 

“Hey,” Steve nears, “sorry I couldn’t make it for drinks, but I couldn’t miss take-off.” 

“Mmm, they don’t have any afternoon flights,” Peggy mutters. 

“They do but landing doesn’t line up with the train,” you shrug and glance at her briefly. Her glare darts back at you. You wonder if that work dinner was so impromptu after all. 

“Are you excited?” Steve drops into the seat next to you. 

“Uh, yeah, nervous,” you smile as the weight lightens from your chest. He came. Maybe Sam is wrong. Maybe friends isn’t that bad. 

“It’s going to be great. You have to send me updates, oh, and I’ll be sure to send you all the wedding news!” He grins, “I still can’t believe you’re going to be so far away.” 

“It’s a good opportunity,” Peggy intones as she sits on his other side, resting her hand on his forearm, “in her line of work, I’m sure they don’t come often.” 

You press your lips tight and look down, “yeah, not really.” 

“She can get out. Make new friends. Some girl friends, maybe,” Peggy remarks. 

“I’m sure she’ll make all the friends,” Sam interjects, “I hear there isn’t much sunlight over there, she’ll be a breath of fresh air for those grumpy vikings.” 

“Mm, yes,” Peggy grumbles as she trails her hand down to Steve’s. “Too bad you won’t make the engagement party.” 

“Or the wedding,” Steve adds. 

“Well, we’ve a full wedding party as it is,” she shrugs. “There’ll be lots of pictures.” 

“Right, yeah, I’m sorry to miss it all,” you frown. “I...” you sit back and nearly choke, “I’m gonna hit the bathroom.” 

You stand as Sam puffs out heavily and to your surprise, Peggy swiftly gets to her feet, suddenly very awake. Your soberness is setting in along with a pulsing headache. You really don’t want to deal with her. If you knew he’d bring her, you’d have told Steve to stay home. 

“I’ll come with you. I’m splitting at the seams,” she trills. 

“Alright,” you agree with a tint of uncertainty. 

She twirls and you walk parallel to her towards the bathroom signs. You chalk it up to the feminine habit. It isn’t unusual to visit the toilets in pairs, even without much kinship between you. It does however spoil your attempt at respite. You less so want to empty your bladder than clear your mind. 

You don’t say a word as you enter the bathroom. You go into a stall and she does the same. Your mind clogs your biology and you have to sit and focus before you can get a flow going. By the time you’re trickling into the bowl, she’s done. A toilet flushes and you hear her unlatch the door and approach the sinks. 

She’s in heels, even at this hour. The sink sprays out water and you listen to her hum as she washes her hands. You finish up and flush, coming out meekly to use the sink next to her. You focus on the simple task as she watches you in the mirror. 

Sensing her gaze, you look up and pull your hands out from under the censor-activated faucet. You meet her eyes and nearly wince at the steely intensity. You stand straight and move past her to retrieve some paper towel. 

“This is a wise decision,” she says, “well-needed.” 

You look at her again as you dry your hands, “thanks.” 

“Oh, I’m not congratulating you. About time you got some sense,” she sneers. 

You wince and crumple up the towel. You drop it in the bin and cross your arms, “okay, well...” 

“It’s better you’re not here for any of it. He doesn’t need the distraction.” 

You chew the inside of your lip as venom drips from her voice. You’re still slightly tipsy and too tired to process this. You have no response. 

“The distance will help you get over it. Finally,” she snips, “you know, I thought it was almost endearing at first then it just became pathetic.” 

You swallow. You’re humiliated that even she could see right through you. You can hardly blame her for her spite. After all, she’s his fiancée, not you. 

“He thinks it’s silly. He laughs.” 

You flinch then. Hard. Your chest rents and your stomach boils. 

“He knows. It’s obvious. I mean, it’s convenient, isn’t it? You’ll do anything for him and really it was rather helpful. Took a lot off my plate and his but it’s time for all of us to grow up. I will be his wife and he doesn’t need some girl to measure out his laundry detergent or remind him to eat.” 

You blink and look away. You cross your arms and push your shoulders up, “got it.” 

“So why don’t you go ahead and just put him on mute now?” 

“Peggy,” you whisper. 

“We’re getting married. You know you can’t stop it, that’s why you’re running away. So end it.” 

“You don’t have to be cruel,” you mutter. 

“I could be horrid. I could have been for all these years. I believe I’ve had remarkable restraint with you,” she points a manicured nail at you, “you should be thanking me for having the grace to do this in private.” 

Your lip trembles and your cheeks tug painfully. You nod and turn away, “don’t worry, Peg, you won’t hear from me. He won’t either.” You make your way to the door, “I wish you both the best.” 

“Mm, I pray you find some clarity and perhaps some maturity along the way,” she retorts as she follows you, heels clicking loudly across the tile, “perhaps you might find someone too. Someone you deserve.” 

Her last words sting. The derision is pungent enough to make your nose crinkle. Someone you deserve... because you could never ever be good enough for Steve Rogers. 

💟

You don’t look back as you go through the gate. You can’t. It’s too painful. The tears have receded but the pain is only deeper. Peggy’s words reverberate in your head, nipping at your ears as your nape burns hotter and hotter. 

She’s right. Sam too. This is overdue. It’s exactly what you need to do. You know it. It’s the reason you chose this. That moment when you were faced with being the eternal wobbly third wheel, you made up your mind. It’s over. That part of your life is behind you, but you don’t know that you’ll ever stop feeling this way. 

It’s hard to settle in your seat, even knowing you have ten hours of flying ahead of you. Disembarking alone will be another hour at least, then finding the train station, another few hours... It’s a lot of time to think and you just can’t stop. 

You don’t take the book out of your bag or touch the screen in front of you. Instead, you sit, slumped down in your seat, eyes drifting back and forth, as you wallow in your self-pity. You stay like that through the flight. You decline the mid-flight meal and the snack cart. You don’t even get up to use the bathroom. 

You close your eyes and float away into memory. You can feel the scene around you. You can smell the stale air freshener forgotten on the shelf above the desk and hear the muffled thrum of music through the walls. You sit on the bed, your textbook open in your lap and your laptop open by your leg. Steve’s on the other end, phone in hand, texting as his golden hair flops forward over his head. 

He’s younger. That rosiness still kisses his cheeks as subtle freckles speckle his pale skin. Yet he’s just a well-built as ever. Broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, long legs. He’s the very picture that should appear next to ‘hunk’ in the dictionary. Every girl’s dream. Your dream. 

“Huh,” he chuckles and drops his phone, “this girl in my history class wants to meet up.” 

Your heart plucks and you force a smile, “a girl? Meet up?” 

“Oh, yeah, she lets me copy off her pop quiz every lecture. Guess I kinda owe her.” 

“Wow,” you utter, the only noise you can eke out. Owes her? Funny, you did his laundry last week and helped him print out his term paper... what do you get? 

“Yeah, so uh, do you think you could send me a copy of your notes?” He pushes himself to the edge of the bed. “I probably won’t be back tonight.” 

“Right,” you nod and hide your embarrassment at the insinuation. 

“You can crash here if you wanna. Long way across campus at night,” he shrugs casually as he grabs his varsity jacket. 

“No, I’ll... I’ll just go now,” you get off the bed and close up your books. 

“Probably a good idea. Just in case she wants to come back here,” he chuckles, “see ya in poli sci?” 

“Sure,” you keep your chin down. “See ya.” 

Your eyelids lift as you come out of the dazed memory.  

New York is gone. Steve is gone. You’re all alone. You’ve left it all behind but that home was never a home. It was all a farce you built on a childish hope. You’re done lying to yourself. It was never going to be. You didn’t miss any chance at all. You just wasted your own time. 

You just languish there in the airplane seat. It’s still hard to believe it’s all real. It isn’t until the wheels bounce and hit the tarmac that it fully sinks in. 

You’re not doing that again. You’re better off alone. You have to be, right? You don’t really know. You don’t even know yourself. You just know the girl who only wanted to be what he needed. 

But what do you need? What do you want? Can you figure it out? Is there anything in this land for you that you couldn’t find in New York? 

At least you’ll have lots of time to figure that out. Intimate hours with yourself to dwell and cringe and regret. Time to think, time to move on, time to cut him out. 

As you join the line to have your Visa stamped, you pull out your phone and turn off airplane mode. You swipe through to Steve’s last message. It was weeks ago. That makes it easier to hit that button; ‘mute’. It’s a start. Maybe in a few weeks, you’ll be ready to hit ‘block’. 

[fallenclan]

wow! it feels weird for this moon (and ravenstar's leadership/arc to finally be over)... i have some Thoughts, particularly about the exiled trio!

patchback -- i like that, of the three, she's the only one who looks genuinely angry. the same is true when ravenstar is killed. levi and sleepydawn look more surprised in that instance as well. given her history, this is the SECOND time patchback has been exiled. i imagine that she enjoys being a part of a clan. possibly, being exiled for the first time was the worst thing that ever happened to her, so when cherrystar gave her a chance, patchback chose to try and "adapt," to be whoever cherrystar would accept. but then ravenstar gave her the room to be herself... surely, with his support, and levi as deputy, then patchback will never have to fear exile again? ha! wrong.

levi -- levi only joined fallenclan after realizing an opportunity to hold power awaited him. i highly doubt levi cares about clan life. i think he's disappointed/annoyed, but not particularly "devestated" in the way that i imagine patchback is. levi will just... move on with his life, and try to find power somewhere else. i think he and patchback will stick together, since they're friends, and there's power in numbers. i believe levi likes power, but doesn't like to be the one making decisions (he likes his second-in-command spot imo). so, with ravenstar gone, patchback becomes his first-in-command. better yet, i imagine levi enjoyed ravenstar, but didn't like him. levi actually likes patchback, so being her second-in-command, backing her up, or better yet, being her partner is especially appealing.

sleepydawn -- he just looks numb. after ravenstar's death, i imagine he quickly resigned himself to what his fate would be. it's also noteworthy that his mate, ashblink, won't be joining him. ashblink could easily have chosen to leave with sleepydawn, but didn't. their relationship felt very shallow from the beginning. while i do think they care about each other, i think sleepydawn's loyalty to ravenstar would always come over his affection for ashblink, and ashblink would ultimately realize that sleepydawn isn't looking for love. within their interactions, ashblink is shown being caring/supportive (as best he can) towards sleepydawn, who looks bored/disinterested or rebuffs him. sleepydawn doesn't know how to be in a relationship. he needs to sort his own shit out before having a boyfriend. i think there's a 50/50 chance that sleepydawn will set out on his own, and try to "find himself" while also seething in bitterness and grief, versus deciding to throw in his lot with patchback and levi.

silly idea: patchback starts her own clan (ravenclan? after the first cat to ever """accept""" her for who she is) with levi as deputy. sleepydawn joins. teeheehee. it would be funny, but in all likelihood, i think the three of them will just have to face reality and Cope rather than getting any sort of resolution they would have hoped for.

anyway, yay wolfstar!!! yay kestrelfeather! yay pondshine and flamefall and cloudtuft!! yippee!! i love how happy wolfstar looks for once, and i was delighted to see broccoli and pepperswipe <3 i know sweetclover is so proud... but also trying to be there for her parents

also finchbeak kits next moon! is the father chumtail or flamefall? or a mysterious, third cat... comment down below! /j

-🐉

MY GOD dragon once again you have hit the nail perfectly on the head... i don't even need to make an explanation post you got it in one. incredible

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Entrapment (post Crisis Supercorp angst)

The last place Kara expects to see Lena is in the CatCo elevator. It breaks her heart to feel it lift at the sight of Lena’s breathless smile, only to come crashing down when that smile disappears as Lena sees who it is who held the doors for her. 

But Lena doesn’t withdraw. She squares her shoulders to a professional set as she turns back to face the closing doors. As the car lifts, the silence is so heavy that Kara has to break it before it crutches her alive.

“Visiting Andrea?” 

A noncommittal hum comes too swiftly to be construed as anything but perfunctory. With a lump rising in her throat, Kara swallows painfully, but nods to herself, resolute. Fine. If Lena won’t even try to be civil, then neither will she–

A loud metallic clank lurches through the elevator, making the walls rattle. They stop moving abruptly, staggering slightly to keep their feet through the jostle. The lights then dim, as through to drive the point home. They were stuck.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Lena mutters darkly, jabbing her finger against the help button. To Kara��s surprise, a tinny voice answers, promising that a team was on the way.

“And how long will it be before we’re moving again?” The barest hint of an edge creeps into Lena’s voice, cutting deep in Kara’s ears.

“I couldn’t say, ma’am,” the voice returns, professional but unbothered. “We’ll keep you apprised of any developments.”

The quiet that follows the disconnecting click of the speaker lingers for a long moment before Lena snaps. 

“Fuck!” she hisses sharply. Kara tries her best to pretend her frustration is at being trapped and not that she’s trapped there with Kara. She doesn’t quite succeed. 

She bows her head to hide the tears that prick at her eyes. Neither of them speak again for a good ten minutes before Kara dares to try again.

“How have you been?” She tries to say it casually, but she knows she’s not fooling anyone, let alone Lena.

“How do you think,” Lena mutters a growl.

“I wouldn’t know,” Kara snaps back. “That’s why I asked.”

It comes out sharper than she means to, and she can tell it takes Lena back a bit. Good. Let her see how angry Kara is, how frustrating her rebuffs are, when all Kara wants is to check in. But Lena’s surprise soon shifts to an expression that Kara recognizes as Lena digging her heels in. In that moment, Kara realizes that she’s spoken the language Lena is most fluent in– contempt.

Kara sighs. “Lena…”

“Don’t bother,” Lena drawls, folding her arms over her chest. With a scowl, Kara slumps one shoulder against the elevator wall. 

“Fine.”

—

As the first hour bleeds into a second, Kara’s anger ebbs to a simmer. In its absence, the urge to reach out again overwhelms her. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. 

“I don’t care.”

And just like that Kara’s temper flares once more. “You could at least pretend to be civil.”

“What on earth makes you think you’ve earned that from me?”

“I don’t know– how about four years of friendship?!”

“Friendship is a funny way to pronounce ‘deception and fraud’,” Lena scoffs dismissively. 

Kara’s hands curl into fists, and it takes all of her self control not to grip the side rail and crumple it into a mangled mess of metal. “That’s not what it was–”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Lena counters swiftly. Her gaze spears Kara in place, the bright glint of her anger as cold as ice. “

“Actually I do. Your perception isn’t reality, Lena.”

“Oh, I’ve learned that lesson, don’t worry.”

The rebuttal kicks Kara straight in the gut, nearly driving the air from her lungs. Her jaw snaps shut with an audible click, swallowing any retort with the need to keep her tears at bay. Lena senses her moment of weakness, and closes in for the kill.

“And don’t pretend this overture isn’t for any purpose aside from your need to assuage your guilt. If you’re looking for absolution, you won’t be getting it from me. So why don’t you just. move. on.”

—

“You’re wrong, you know.”

By hour four Kara has found a home on the floor of the elevator, her seat padded by her coat. Lena stubbornly remains standing, though Kara can tell by the shifting of her stance that the discomfort of her Louboutins grows by the minute. Lena’s eyes roll towards her in exasperation.

“Well, you’re partly right. But mostly wrong.”

Lena huffs. “Do tell.”

“I do feel guilty,” Kara admits. She picks at the skin of her cuticle, seeking any ounce of solace from the distraction. “But I’m not looking for absolution. I will always carry the guilt of how I treated you. Even if you told me right now that you understood every decision I made that hurt you, I would still feel guilty. Because you deserve better. You’ve always deserved better.”

“Then why the pretense?”

“I miss you, Lena.” Kara lets her hands fall still, and she lifts her chin to meet Lena’s gaze. She shrugs. “It’s not a pretense, just the truth. I just… miss you.”

Lena doesn’t have anything to say to that. Silence returns, and Kara dares to hope it might mean more than it did before.

—

“You think I’ll just move past it?”

Lena finally sits, prying her shoes off and setting them to one side. A wiggle of her toes elicits a cascade of crackles as abused joints settle back into their proper place. Kara gazes at her calmly, feeling better now that she’s gotten at least some of the weight off her chest. She considers Lena’s question– if she’s not expecting forgiveness, yet still yearning to repair their friendship, then what avenue could possibly get them there but the idea that Lena might one day come to peace with what happened?

“I guess… I guess I hoped so.” The admission feels heavy, distorting the air around Kara until Lena’s sharp reproach slams her back to reality. 

“You really thought me capable of that?” Lena smirks, leaning back against the wall. “That’s adorable.”

“Is it?” Kara counters. “All the time I’ve known you, you have demonstrated over and over again that you are a compassionate, kind person– one who believes in second chances.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, but doesn’t break eye contact. “Is it really so hard to believe I’d hope that might extend to me?”

Dark eyes narrow, even as blood-red lips curl into a smirk. “You think you’ve cornered the market on being selfish?”

Kara eyes her. “I know you, Lena.”

Lena scoffs. “You still don’t get it. Kind, compassionate, good Lena…” She straightens, shaking her head. “You only knew the person I wanted to be.”

“You’re still those things.” When Lena doesn’t respond, Kara hears her silence as clearly as any response. “But you don’t want to be.”

“Why would I, when it’s only ever brought me heartache?”

—

They get a third update of no update thirty minutes later. The temperature has risen slightly, not enough to affect Kara in her sweater, but bringing a flush to Lena’s cheeks and a sheen of sweat to her upper lip.

“I don’t suppose it’s been long enough for your… friend, to make an appearance?” Lena asks, one eyebrow cocked. 

Kara shakes her head. “You saw the fight on the news two days ago? I sort of, um… Supergirl’s still recovering.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Wonderful.”

An apology lifts to Kara’s tongue, but she dismisses it before it can emerge. Solar flaring is one of the few things she doesn’t have to apologize for. Instead, she watches Lena, and in the minutes that follow, she can see exhaustion slowly claim her. She’s an old hand at recognizing it by now, after all– it just kills her that she’s now one of its causes. 

“How have you been, Lena. Really.”

Lena sighs, the sound sharp and bitter. “I don’t know Kara. My brother has been resurrected, and someone let him create whole fucking reality with himself at the center of it. How would you be?”

Kara fights the urge to grimace. She may not have let Lex do anything– she didn’t even think bending an entire reality by sheer will was possible. If she had, maybe she could have– no, she stops herself. What Lex had done had been a shortcut. A cheat code, of sorts. By the grace of Mxy she’s seen what cheating the system could do. None of it had felt right– none of it would have been fair to Lena.

If she has a chance of repairing what she broke, she’ll do it the right way. She’ll finally give Lena the agency she deserved all along– even if it’s to tell her to kick bricks. Before she can say as much, Lena exhales, and in the sound Kara hears the fight leaving.

“A brand new reality,” Lena breathes, “where anyone can have a second chance.”

Hope lifts hot and bright in Kara’s chest.

“And all I can think is that I wish he’d just left me out of it.”

Lena’s voice is as heavy as her words. Kara absorbs it, in a way only a person who understands could.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. You’re in a tougher spot than most.” Being positioned as Lex’s right hand, answering to him from the rank and file of the same company she’d resuscitated with her own blood, sweat, and tears… 

“You don’t have to work with him, Lena.” 

“Save the inspiring soliloquy for someone who needs it, Supergirl.” 

“You flourished without him! Why shove yourself back into that box? You saw his diaries, you know how he thinks of you. You’re better than that.” 

This time when Lena meets her gaze, it’s without the malice that has predominated the duration of their entrapment thus far. The combativeness has left her, and in its place is an apathy Kara has only glimpsed once before– the night after Jack Spheer’s death, sitting with Lena on her office couch.

“At one point, I almost believed that,” Lena murmurs. 

This, at least, is a sentiment that Kara has known for all the time she’s known Lena, and she knows just what to say.

“Then I’ll believe it for you,” she says firmly. “And I’ll remind you until you start believing it again.”

“We’re not friends anymore, Kara. There’s no need to pretend you care.”

Kara shakes her head. “I can’t control whether you see me as a friend or not. But you will always be mine.” She holds Lena’s gaze. “Always.”

—

Just as the clock on Kara’s phone ticks past 3pm, Lena breaks the silence for the first time.

“For what it’s worth,” she says, her voice low and solemn, “I’ve missed you too.”

—

Twenty minutes later, the elevator car jolts upwards. It shakes them from their wait-induced torpor, and they rise to their feet together just as the doors peel open to reveal a ledge about chest height with a firefighter kneeling down to study them with an appraising eye.

“You two all right in there?”

“Fine,” Kara and Lena say simultaneously. They shoot each other a wry glance. 

The firefighter nods, reaching in with a long arm. “Time to get you ladies some fresh air.”

Lena goes first, allowing Kara to give her the slightest boost as their rescuer hauls her up. The exit is about as graceful as it could possibly be, and by the time Kara meets her on the other side, Lena is on her feet and tidying her skirt.

Kara stares at her, savoring the chance to drink in the sight of her one last time. Lena feels her gaze, and looks up to meet it, eyes inscrutable as the murmur of the gathered onlookers wash over them.

“It was good to see you,” she offers softly. “Despite the circumstances.”

Lena doesn’t respond. Kara decides to press her luck, just one more time.

“Please, think about what I said. About Lex. You are worth so much more than what he’s offered you.”

Than what I’ve offered you, Kara almost adds. She doesn’t. 

After a long moment, Lena gives a single nod, before merging into the crowd in the direction of Andrea’s office. Kara watches her go, then turns the opposite direction towards the stairwell. As she makes her way down the steps, thoughts of Lena occupy every corner of her mind. The odds of their relationship changing even an inch towards how they used to be are slim to none, Kara knows. But maybe, just maybe, Lena still might take what she said about Lex to heart. 

Replaying Lena’s final nod over and over in her mind’s eye, Kara emerges onto the street outside, greedily inhaling the musty city air. After a moment, she sighs, tipping her head back to bask in the pale winter sun.

Odds or no, she can’t help but hope.

[hmslusitania]

15 for timkon if you'd like! (“This is a lot, even for you.”)

“Oh boy,” Kon says, hesitating in the entryway to the microcave Tim’s claimed. When Steph and Cass had called him about it, he’d thought they were exaggerating. In Kon’s defence, Tim’s been on more than a few somewhat unhinged murderboard investigations in his life, and the girls’ claim that this is actually, truly, the most unsettling one he’s done, that he’s locked himself in a microcave and they’re not sure he’s been eating — and are absolutely sure he hasn’t been sleeping — had felt melodramatic in the way only Gothamites can get.

In reality, he thinks they might’ve undersold it.

“Uh, hey, buddy, whatcha doin’?” Kon asks, hovering over the piles of office document boxes that — jesus fuck, is that a LexCorp logo?

He finds Tim in the centre of the microcave next to the aforementioned murderboard, and then he kinda wishes he hadn’t. The focal image in the centre of Tim’s web of red yarn and blue yarn and green yarn and something that looks like yellow caution tape that’s been twisted into thread is… Kon.

Tim is hunched in gargoyle posture next to the murderboard, chewing on the wrong end of a pen while he stares at the board with eyes so far past unfocused and surrounded by such dark bags that Kon’s kinda a little surprised Tim hasn’t like… toppled over and passed out.

At the sound of Kon’s voice, Tim spins on the balls of his feet and hurls the pen from between his teeth at him. Kon rebuffs it with his TTK and when the pen clatters to some scattered manila folders on the cave floor, Tim frowns.

“You’re… real?” Tim asks, lifting an eyebrow to inspect him. When he talks, Kon can see the dark spot of ink on his tongue that really can’t be pleasant to taste.

“Please tell me you haven’t been hallucinating,” Kon requests, and immediately regrets it because he’s really not sure he wants the answer to that.

“Um, n—just like the squiggles in the corners of your eyes when you’re sleep dep—why are you here?” Tim asks.

“Well, this is, uh, kind of a lot, even for you?” Kon replies, and hovers closer to the one working electronic in the microcave besides the flickering overhead light: the coffee pot. There’s nothing but tarry sludge at the bottom of the pot which is definitely contributing to the acrid scent of the cave, alongside Tim’s general state of being.

“Oh,” Tim says, looking back at the murderboard and then to Kon again. He seems to finally register that the subject of his investigation is now in his personal space, because his eyes go wide in addition to glassy. “Oh.”

“Any chance you’ll tell me why I’m the subject of this, uh…” Kon trails off, gesturing at the murderboard. Tim doesn’t write his tacked-on notes in any sort of way Kon can read. It’s not actually shorthand, not the official version of it, but probably some hybrid system Tim’s developed on his own. Whether or not it’s legible to other Bats is anyone’s guess.

“Um,” Tim says, and falls off the balls of his feet to land hard on his ass on the desk where he’s been perched. Based on the way he rubs absently at his knees and rolls his ankles around, Kon gets the impression he’d been crouched like that for way too long. “You’ve been, uh, exhibiting some… uncharacteristic behaviours? For about ten months now, give or take.”

Kon blinks. “I have?”

“Yeah, your sense of humour’s shifted, because you keep finding me funnier than other people in our group,” Tim says. He reaches for the pen he’d had in his mouth, like he means to use it as a pointer stick, and remembers at the last second that he’d thrown it at Kon to test his realness. Kon picks it up and offers it to him. Tim thanks him with a distracted, dazed expression, and then points it at the red lines. “And, um, you’ve been agreeing with me more? So, like, I know you haven’t been replaced by Match this time, because that was all about him trying to argue with me and divide our team. Also, you keep looking at me more when you think I’m not looking, I had to run through so many hours of security tapes.”

Tim points to some pretty damning screen grabs of security footage from the Young Justice HQ that kind of make Kon want to die of embarrassment.

It kind of sucks that Tim is so smart that he’s noticed all of this, but has also completely failed to put it together.

“So, what’s your conclusion, detective?” Kon asks.

“I don’t… know,” Tim huffs, and rubs the heel of his hand into one of his eyes like it’s about to give up on him and he needs to fight it into submission. “And I can’t think of what happened ten months ago that would’ve started a change in behaviour or—”

“Can I give you a hint?” Kon asks, swallowing down the nerves it immediately gives him, just to offer.

Tim blinks. “Wait, you’re aware of the change in behaviour?”

“Yeah, Tim,” Kon says, only keeping himself from laughing at the consternation on Tim’s face by the skin of his teeth.

Tim looks between him and the murderboard, a deep frown on his face. “So what happened ten months ago?”

“Well, eleven months ago, you told us you’re bi,” Kon says. He folds his arms across his chest and tucks his hands under his biceps to keep Tim from noticing them shake with nerves. Not that Tim’s really in a state to notice anything at this point. “And it took me about a month to do some soul searching and figure out that I am, too?”

The furrow between Tim’s eyes gets just a little deeper, like he can’t make the math problem add up. “But… if that’s it, then why are you looking at me like…”

He trails off, staring at the board for an excruciating enough length of time that Kon seriously considers just flying away and hoping Tim’s so out of it that he won’t actually remember this conversation.

“Wait, you like me?” Tim asks, face fever-bright when he looks away from the board to stare at Kon instead.

“Only kind of, like, a lot?” Kon replies, balling his hands into fists under his arms.

“Oh,” Tim says, and finally, to Kon’s relief, his face smooths out into a smile. “Cool.”

And, mystery solved, he immediately loses power to all systems, and slumps into a deep sleep. When he starts to topple forward off the desk like a marionette with the strings cut, Kon swoops forward to catch him. There’s probably a bed somewhere in this microcave, but if there is, it’s completely buried by Tim’s boxes of files, and Kon doesn’t want to dig. He cradles Tim in his arms and carries him out of the cave into the uncharacteristically pleasant Gotham evening, and when Tim burrows closer into his chest and murmurs, “like you too,” Kon can only smile.

[ripplestitchskein]

You know what I find super baffling? Is how much emphasis is put on the cigarette on Blitz’s horn thing. Like people use it as THE evidence that Stolas doesn’t respect Blitz or imps in general and is toxic etc etc like are really fired up about it sometimes and I’ll be honest. I do not get it.

The first time I watched that scene it didn’t even register with me. Because I’m watching a show about demons in Hell. And rewatching it even trying to read it that way I can’t. Blitz uses the already lit cigarette to untie Stolas, they are obviously finishing a scene, he hands Stolas the cig wordlessly and Stolas takes a drag and puts it out. It seems very practiced,. Blitz is not visibly annoyed by Stolas doing it, his eyebrows go MUCH lower and deeper when Stolas pinches his cheeks versus when he puts the cig out. I even slowed it down, Blitz follows his movements with his eyes and his brow does go down a bit but his expression is pretty neutral. He DOES get annoyed and physically pushes Stolas away when he starts pinching his cheeks and doing the baby voice. So we see he has no issue telling Stolas he is annoyed with him or physically rebuffing him within the same minute.

The little itty bitty imp, Blitzy and other diminutive things and being dismissed or disregarded are what visibly annoy Blitz. That cigarette didn’t, not really. To be clear, I’m not saying it wasn’t annoying, I’m not even saying he wasn’t annoyed by it, nor am I saying it shouldn’t be factored into the overall Stolas is Oblivious About His Treatment of Imps, I’m saying it wasn’t like abusive or OMG. 1. Because of the context of the scene, they are in a BDSM relationship and this might be quite normal for them, they use bear traps for sex toys and in the scene they seem very comfortable and routine about it 2: This is Hell. They established fire doesn’t hurt them, Blitz doesn’t flinch or react at all. It also comes across as being a regular thing. He lights the cigarette, he takes a drag, he uses it to burn the rope and then hands it over to Stolas without a word or gesture from Stolas. They’ve done this before.

I just feel like with that particular instance too much reality is applied in the interpretation of it. Maybe it will be a big issue, maybe Blitz will bring it up in the future, but until that happens I default to how the characters react, how it is handled with other actions, and what is going on in the scene and what I saw was maybe slight annoyance, but much more for the baby talk and cheek pinching, by two demons in hell in a BDSM relationship.

It’s fine if you see it differently, but the hand wringing is what confuses me. These aren’t real people, it’s not the real world and these things can have different implications with the world especially considering the context of the scene and their relationship at that point and that Blitz did feel comfortable enough, within the same scene, to brush Stolas off and rebuff him for his behavior.

[xenosagaepisodeone]

one reason why i'm a fan of how widespread and accessible vtuber technology is is that it gives all the usual aspiring professional content creator sludge a fantasy-like coat of paint. while you can't stop parasocial relationships from forming between the vtuber and their audience, the technology rebuffs a lot of the factors that draw people in to feel connected to a youtuber or a streamer on a personal, human level. a vtuber is a character no matter how dimensional their host wants to be. a vtuber boy breaks character to get into an argument with someone in the comments, their audience is immediately discomforted with how cringe and kind of pathetic their anime prince is being. a vtuber girl fake cries while addressing allegations against her, her rig only capable of articulating a vaguely sad expression as her avatar breastfully bounces in tandem with her sobs. this. this is the new television. the new jon and kate plus 8. the new maury show. dubiously ethical as all reality television is but impersonal enough to be easy to consume as pure entertainment.

[mazeinthemiroh]

i’m desperately trying to improve my art skills so while i’m in that mindset i was wondering if i could request a skz reaction to their s/o accidentally leaving their sketchbook open and it’s full of drawings of them ;-; i would draw the lovely members all day if i could </3 thank you!

stray kids coming across their s/o's drawings of them

genre: fluff

warnings: not proofread

please like and reblog if you enjoy :]

bangchan

is really flattered that you would use his face as inspiration for most of your drawings. he smiles shy and giggles as he flicks through the pages of his face. he would say things like "do i really look like that?" and "i'm sure you've made me more handsome than i actually am." you've helped him gain a new appreciation for his looks.

minho

minho is nosy sometimes, so taking a peak at your open sketchbook would not be unlikely. and what he finds is not what he is expecting. he didn't realise just how good at drawing you are. you captured the angles of his features very well. but that doesn't mean to say that he won't totally tease you for using him as your muse!

changbin

he thinks "of all the people you could've drawn, why him?" in his head, drawings of people tend to be delicate and elegant. but here, you've captured his features perfectly, focusing on his body structure and muscles that you admire so much. a grins spreads across his face as he realises that he is your muse and also know his body extremely well

hyunjin

as an artist himself, he would be deeply touched. he knows it must've taken you a long time to perfect your art, and the way he you have drawn him is so beautiful to him. he can't help but smile at your amazing skills, and how they mirror his own. who knew you guys would share the same talent?

jisung

he gasps loudly as his eyes flicker over the pages and pages of beautiful sketches of him. he is enthralled by your art and will continue to shower you with an overwhelming amount of praise from here on out. he just thinks you're so talented. and this is coming from an ace! that definitely means something.

felix

his eyes turn wide with curiosity as he can't help but look at your drawings of him. he feels warm inside, and this warmth seems to go to his cheeks too. all the little details, the shape of his eyes, the perfectly placed freckles. you captured his beauty effortlessly, and he can't help but feel honoured that he gave you some inspiration.

seungmin

"you can't stop thinking about me that you have to draw me when i'm not with you?" of course he will tease you about it, but only a little bit. after having a little fun, be will rebuff his playful statements by complimenting your hardwork. he can tell you've been improving, and he can't help but be amazed by your talent.

jeongin

he can tell you really knew his features so well. how you studied them in your drawings fascinated him. especially the close-up of his eye - the shape and the shades were a perfect representation of reality. he would tell you how impressed he was, pretending not to be a little shy that most of your works were pictures of him.

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

lmao she ate you up

Again Stolas is an insult to real abuse victims. The show tries to make Stella into this evil harpy while excusing people who have done abuse like Loona because she gets the trauma excuse. Heck, Stolas for all claims of being a victim is actually more of a victimizer than a victim because of how he used his power to trap a guy into a coercive deal to keep his book. People say Blitzo started it when reality he was going to have him in his room and expected him to ravage him even though this was the first time they met in years. The guy has been predatory from the start and I don't care what excuses to try to make him fake sympathetic. Coercing someone into sex for a long time is not a simple mistake it's a crime but since it's hell it wouldn't be punished. Also stfu about him giving his daughter love he will regularly choose Blitzo over his daughter while having the nerve to claim he still loves her.

People claim he wants to give her a normal life while not having two minds of cheating on her mother and obnoxiously still carrying on an affair that broke the family. That is the embodiment of not caring about your daughter. Also coming out of the closet shouldn't be an excuse to hurt people. Again everyone says he's improving but those so-called improvements is still coercing people into a relationship and whining when they rebuff his advances because in the past they treated them like shit and still denies they look do on them. This is the same twit who had the nerve to say Blitzo and Striker sound the same when they told him off for being a privileged asshole he really isn't learning.

There is a difference between being a normal,flawed dad and being a neglectful, selfish asshole who puts his wants before his child. And let me tell you a child shouldn't be forced to sacrifice their stability to make their manchild of a father happy. And even worse he's doing this for a guy he forced into his fantasy and treated like trash. His so-called abuse by Stella is forced and fake. He says he did it to give her a normal life but in reality he just ended up potentially putting her in danger of a unstable mother. Also it's less of an attempt to show males can be abused but the fact that it's a way to make Stolas look artificially better so his abuses on Blitzo are excused. Also Stolas has more power over Stella than he does over him. One thing abusers tend to do is trap their victims. And let's face the fact there is nothing Stella could do to trap him. Stolas was the one who could do that to her with his privilege but he doesn't exercise it because the narrative needs to make him look like a saint compared to her for putting up with everything.

Also not being able to read the room and his microaggressions have been detrimental because it feeds into his flaws and even worse his lack of accountability for his actions. He freaking put a cigarette out on Blitzo and we just expect him to see him as not looking down on him. And again this is the guy who used his own butler as a squeeze toy and Blitzo rightfully points out how he treats his own servants. The way he treats other imps have influenced why Blitzo callled bs because his microagressions aren't actually micro when he has acted like a typical royal who has abused the lower class. And again his obliviousness to read the room has hurt his relationships because people are telling him straight to his face but he ignores them because he'd rather live in his own world where he does nothing wrong. In summary, he's a selfish asshole people are babying and pretending that he's just a traumatized, flawed man when in reality he's worse than that and acting he ain't is just whitewashing.

Also stfu about saying we hate it for no reason. We hate it because it left the og premise for a shitty love drama with an insufferable creator's pet who ends up taking away anything interesting plot and refuses to own up to his mistakes. He always is a hindrance on the story and resent him for it.