#WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS BULLSHIT THIS YEAR

[seewetter]

I mean it seems rather explainable.

The reasons given for the war were fabricated, because that is a habit for American military interventions. Vietnam was the first time this kind of deceit could be perceived by the public and the Gulf War was when new forms of propaganda were invented to fabricate reasons for war.

Why don't people talk about it all the time?

On the one hand, because a media capable of ignoring Germany's invasion of Poland and a political apparatus capable of presenting their media with false testimony by a small child (!) trained in lying (see first link) are not going to keep a memory of national failure alive if it isn't in their interests and the news cycle moves fast. (On that note: a small child testifying before Congress, but the kid is acting and the whole thing is a PR stunt to start a war -- isn't that "a catastrophe that should utterly delegitimize the society that made it happen" ? Like the Gulf War is at least as ridiculous as what happened in Iraq. I don't mean to downplay the horrors of that war, but like I sense a larger and more enduring historical pattern of "utterly deligitimizing" bullshit that people could reasonably be expected to be talking about all the time).

Another reason why people don't talk about Iraq all the time is that this pattern just never stops. Not only are there ridiculous examples of foreign policy prior to the Iraq War, there's ridiculous examples now. The so-called "Israel-Hamas War" or recently "Gaza War" (why do we call the recent attempt at intensifying the Nakba into a second Shoah a "war", even now, Wikipedia?) is no less spectacular and no less "mysterious" than the Iraq war. America's 2024 solution for a genocide: not only will they, as in previous years, supply weapons -- nope, they'll send some soldiers to help too. "This is a war that destroyed a country" -- I mean is that not something we can say about Palestine?

Richard Haass may never know why the war he advised on happened, but neocons wanted this was to happen since the 80s. The Iraq war is no less mysterious than the current ambitions of various American politicians who don't like Iran. If we ever see a military intervention or proxy war in Iran, we'll know that it's the result of decades of whining and begging on the part of people who had personal incentives to destroy that country. The postmortems of such a war would also be "uh, it's a mystery why it happened" because if some event remains unexplained and mysterious, then nobody has to make ugly confessions.

And a destabilized Middle-East seems to be part of the point, no? Why is one of the largest Middle-Eastern ethnic groups, the Kurds, a culture who aren't granted nationhood (not that I like nation states, but under normal circumstances nationhood is granted to groups like this, so this should make people think)? Do people ever benefit from a region being unstable?

Imagine if the Middle-East was a stable political region where people could, say, build trade networks between Europe and East Asia, connected through the Middle-East. Whose economy would suffer? Or say a bunch of Middle-Eastern countries were independent enough that they gave Russia nice sea access through the Red Sea or the Gulf of Oman / Arabian Sea? The US just don't like some prospect of some sort that has to do with their economic interests. I think we can be sure of this.

Now it *is* wild that the people who fabricated a claim of Saddam possessing WMDs would later go public about lying. That absolutely is wild. It's genuinely hard to understand why that was done.

But in the grand scheme of things it was mainly a costly and visibly unnecessary war. The Gaza "war" caused millions to be displaced and resulted in devastating losses to the cultural heritage of the region too. And people will also refuse to explain "why it happened", though the reasons seem fairly intuitive if one realizes what the US is getting out of this.

I missed most of the Iraq war due to being a baby, but every time I read about it I start wondering why we aren’t all talking about it all of the time

[bluem1lls]

i need part 2 of se-mi with comphet reader 😭

✧₊⁺ speak now (or don't, and love forever in silence)

groom bff! se-mi x comphet! reader

synopsis: after years of waiting, he finally propose. wasn't this everything you wished for?

but you couldn't bring yourself to be happy.

was it maybe because when you thought about it, all you could picture was her face?

content: some angst, but finally fluff!!!!

authors note: im so sorry for the looooong ass late updates, im so so busy but im ab to go on break so everyone cheered!!! im back i promise:( im so excited for this part 2 i actually love it and i hope u do too!!!!

part one. part two (you're here!)

famous actress finally engaged with the famous choi su-bong, more known as 'thanos', old rapper surging back!

we all saw on Instagram the romantic proposal he prepped for her, and of course like every girl would, she said yes!

we are so happy for the married couple!

"fucking bullshit" se-mi threw her phone away with rage after reading the most liked post from the magazine's instagram.

her hands went to her face as she groaned, biting back her lip to keep the tears away.

poor dumb girl. she actually thought you were coming back to her...

"the way he proposed was so romantic, i'm glad he did it that way, it was what you always wanted ever since you were a kid" my best friend jun-hee took my hands between hers with a comforting smile. i smiled softly as i sighed.

"y-yeah. it was.." i whispered. she stares into my eyes, squeezing my hands. her expression fell, now filled with pity. she knew me more than anyone.

"you do know that you're supposed to be happy about getting married right?" she says with a lifted eyebrow as i pressed my lips.

"i am." i said, trying to convince myself.

"honey-" she murmurs as i cut her.

"i have to be." i said, turning to face myself in the mirror. streightening my skirt as i faked my best smile.

and it was true. everything was exactly how i always wanted it.

so.. why didn't it felt like it?

i heard a knock that snapped me out of my thoughts. we both turned as the door opened. "excuse me, just wanted to let you know the invitations have been sent" a girl said with a smile as i nodded, thanking her.

once she left, jun-hee stared at me. "did you sent one for.." my best friend said, stopping herself as i shuddered.

"yeah. of course. they're best friends." refering to my husband and se-mi. i put a smile to pretend i didn't cared. or at least i tried, although it didn't even reached my eyes.

if your own best friend stares at you with pity, you start to consider maybe you're not doing as well as you thought.

but i couldn't back up. not now. not ever.

"this belongs in the trash" se-mi says with a sarcastic smirk, grabbing the invitation only to crumble it with anger as min-su stops her.

"we can't just.. not go" he says to her as she stares at him, incredulous.

"do you want me to go to that fucking wedding? for what?" she spits with anger and disbelief, her voice getting louder as he sighs. he got used to seeing his best friend angered ever since the news came out.

"listen, i get it, okay? but it's our best friend's wedding. we can't just miss it" min-su says in a soft tone, trying to make her understand.

"i refuse to watch her get married." her cold voice snaps. "fuck this." she says with a groan, frustration all over her face.

"you need to move on! you know those two! yeah they hate eachother, but they're not breaking up sem. they're getting married, and probably everything that goes after that. are you just gonna avoid thanos until you die?" he says snapping as she furrows her brow, a small pout on her pierced lips without her even noticing it.

"there's nothing to move on, there was never anything between me and her right?" she says with a sigh. "i'm still not going. i fucking hate weddings" she says under her breath, going to her room to avoid the conversation. and something about that doesn't feel true, because she loves to think about you on a wedding dress. but not if it's not with.. she shakes her head to remove the thought, slamming the door. min-su sighs, his hands on his face, exhausted.

"oh god" jun-hee says with tears on her face, her eyes twinkle in awe as i laugh, a little teary.

the dress looks.. perfect. just like in my childhood dream. my perfect dream wedding.

"it was made for you" she says as i chuckle, giving a little spin for her.

i should be so happy...

"yeah.. i think we're done" i say to the girl from the store, who's standing on my side, staring at me with a soft smile. "this is it. this is the one."

i slowly head back to the changing room to remove the dress. i place back my clothes while my assistant goes to pay. i stare at myself in the mirror.

why am i not happy? why doesn't it feel like i'm getting married?

i sigh as i leave the store with my two companions.

"let's grab some coffee, it's right around the corner and im dying for some caffeine." jun-hee says as i nod.

i feel my phone buzzing on my pockets.

oh god, of course. he's always fucking forgetting about the wedding or where i am. god why am i marrying this-

my breath hitches as i grab my phone, reading the text.

this can't be happening.

not now.

oh god.

sem: a wedding?

sem: really?

of course it's her.

of course she texts me out of nowhere a fucking random tuesday at 3 pm.

of course she makes my heart beat on my chest like no one ever did. just for a fucking text.

i scoff in disbelief as my manicured nails type with anger.

me: for real?

me: this is what you're texting me?

me: after not hearing about you for fucking YEARS??????

i see the little bubble that indicates she's typing back. the fact that she hasn't left the chat since she texted me makes me bite my lip.

sem: i've seen the photos

sem: you know

sem: you dont look like someone whos excited to get married

i roll my eyes as i let out a shaky breath, she hit a nerve.

me: what do you know? you havent talked to me in years, maybe things changed.

sem: everything did.

sem: except this.

sem: why do you keep lying to yourself?

i place my phone back in my pocket with shaky hands, leaving her on seen. i place my head on my hands as i groan.

why did she had appear out of nowhere?

i was fine without.. knowing about her.

without thinking about her. without her smile. without knowing if she's seeing someone..

i was okay without her. yeah. i was perfect.

god i really need that coffee.

as i get home i watch my... fiance laying on the couch.

"did you even tried the cake samples i left?" i said with frustration as i leave my purse.

"uh, nam-gyu did, he said the black tea one was really good" he said without too much care as i stared at him disbelief.

"am i getting married to nam-gyu? because i needed MY husband to try them!" i say, standing in front of him, my hands on my hips as he rolled his eyes.

"who the fuck cares about the cake baby? no one does" he says, his arms sneaking around my waist to bring me closer to him.

"i care! i am going to be the wife in this fucking wedding and i care about the cake!" i shout angry. "and don't touch me" i let myself loose of his grip as he groans in built frustration.

"seriously? this again?" he says with a sigh, letting go.

"after the wedding" i say to him as my heart sinks. liar.

"about time" he rolls his eyes, his focus on the phone once again.

i stare at him blinking in disbelief.

this is my life?

am i gonna marry.. this idiot?

i go upstairs as i remove my outside clothes, placing on my pjs. i slowly let myself sink in bed as i grab my phone, my hands trembling as i bite my lip.

was this a good idea? no.

clearly not.

but god, i couldn't stop thinking about her.

me: are you coming?

me: to the wedding

me: i sent you an invitation

it takes her two minutes to reply.

sem: no.

oh. i chew on my bottom lip thinking about what to reply, until she texts back a few minutes later.

sem: why?

do i? do i wanna get marry, knowing she's there, staring at me?

the question is.. will i get married, knowing she's there, sitting on the crowd, watching me?

me: i want you there

the texting bubbles appear and disappear for over 10 minutes, making me extremely anxious as i wait for her reply.

sem: okay

okay what? okay that i want her there although i shouldn't? okay that-

sem: i'll see you there.

sem: consider this as my confirmation to the wedding.

i throw my phone away with shaky hands. my head sinks on my pillow, muffling my scream.

god, what have i done?

finally, today is the day.

today, i'm getting married.

the happiest day in my life. that's what everyone is saying.

so why i've been crying non stop until falling asleep?

i stared at myself, sat in front of my mirror. my makeup perfectly done, my hair loose in soft waves, the dress made just for me. it had to be like this, because this was what everyone expected from me.

i sighed as i stood up, leaving the room to go wait on the door for my entrance. i could hear the bells ringing, the wedding music. my dad appears, walking slowly until he was standing besides with a smile.

"i'm proud of you" he said, staring at front as i did too, my eyes teary. but it wasn't happiness, it was...

"everything is like it's supposed to be" i said, streightening myself. my head turned to stare at him. "am i finally the perfect daughter?" i asked my dad, my voice trembling with emotion.

he gave me a confused stare, a hint of what it looked like sadness, creeping into his stare. "it's not the wedding, it's clearly not the husband" he said as we both softly chuckled. "it's you.. you're my daughter. and i don't need you to be perfect, you being you it's all i want. your happiness. honey, nothing else matters after that." he said as i holded my tears. i bit the inside of my cheek, my heart pounding on my chest.

it's too late now, isn't it?

i could feel him interlock our arms as the doors opened. we moved one step at a time as we slowly entered the ceremony. to my wedding.

i shudder at the sight of everyone in the room, but i knew my eyes were only scanning to look for one person.

and when i found her, and my heart stopped.

she was watching me with a soft gaze, eyes almost twinkling as she roamed through my form, slowly taking my face, my body in the dress, and lastly, going up to meet my eyes. all i needed to make my heart flutter. i felt frozen in place, i could see everyone staring at me, wondering why i wasn't moving. my dad pulled my arm to get me out of my trance, but nothing worked.

i was there, stucked right where she left me.

on the last time i saw her. the last time my heart beated for her.

"if we get out of here and.. you decide that you're done being his perfect wife, and maybe you want to be happy.. with me.. i'll be waiting. i promise"

she was just as beautiful as i remembered her. of course i've seen pictures of her, but nothing like seeing her in person again.

our stare never breaking.

her eyes screamed 'please, love me'

and mine replied 'i do. but i shouldn't'

"are you okay?" my dad said, breaking the staring contest as i took reality of my surroundings. i shakily let out a small breath as i nodded with a fake smile. i kept walking to the altar, where i saw my... future husband.

right.

as i took my place, he took my hands in between his.

i trembled, and i swear i wanted to hear whatever the priest was saying. i really did.

but all my focus was on her.

was everyone blind for not noticing? or was everyone trying to pretend they couldn't tell how i stared at my husband's best friend?

when our eyes met again, i averted my gaze, trying really hard to pay attention to the priest talking on the altar to me and my future husband.

but god, i could not focus when she was here.

until i heard the priest coming to the end of his speech.

"if anyone has just cause to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace"

silence spreaded on the ceremony.

the quietness in the room making me shiver.

until it wasn't quiet anymore.

because everyone gasped.

and my eyes shut close.

and the quietness was replaced with whispers, with judging stares.

it wasn't quiet anymore, because she stood up.

my heart felt like it stopped in place. i could see my fiance's eyes widen, staring at se-mi like she was mad, insane.

but i knew she wasn't.

she was just in love, like i was.

and god, not from my husband.

her tall figure stood in the public, standing up as her mouth agaped like a fish. she tried to find any words to say, but she couldn't.

min-su and nam-gyu besides her, staring like if she grew a second head, completely shocked.

my eyes widen as i saw her take a sit again.

her mind was conflicted. i could tell. does she oppose? does she love quietly? what was more important? her best friend or her feelings? she shifted uncomfortably on her chair.

what was done was done, right?

fuck it. she thought, standing up once again.

everyone stared, their eyes open like never before.

"i-i oppose" she says in a weak, trembling voice. her eyes find mine, her stare pleads me to not let this keep going.

it begs me to go with her.

her hand moves to try and reach me as i watch her trembling hand and her pleading expression.

"i love you." she says with tears on her eyes.

and of course i knew this couldn't happen. of course i knew this was madness. i was about to get married. my life was buildt for this specific moment.

but my heart responded first with a sigh. not tears, not a scream, not a mad reply.

a sigh of relief.

i stare at the people sitting shocked in their seats. their gazes gravitating from her, to me and choi su-bong.

and suddenly, it's not like before. i'm not frozen in place, i'm not scared. i don't feel ashamed, i don't feel a thing.

except relief and love.

my last sign? when i stare at my parents, and they dont look at me ashamed. they're not embarrassed. they nod at me with tears in their eyes, intertwining their hands.

i get off the altar as i laugh.

a laugh of happiness. i chuckle loud and the feeling takes my entire body as i walk to her slowly. our stare never breaking as i stand in front of her, in my beautiful white dress. i reach to take her hand, the contact leaves a warm feeling on my heart.

"can we go?" are the only words that leave my lips with a shaky breath.

she stares at me, letting out an airy soft chuckle in disbelief, not believing this is happening.

"fuck, yes." is all she mutters as she moves in between the people, intertwining our hands like she never plans to release me as we run to the exit, our hearts jump in our chest.

and this is insane. i know it when we get into her rusty old car while the people gather outside to stare at us. but it doesn't matter.

it doesn't matter when my dress ruffles through the window, it doesn't matter when i buckle my seat belt with a happy smile and it certainly doesn't matter when she actually starts driving and we laugh, like a whole hearted laugh.

"you left your husband. in the altar. you left him" she says chuckling, filled with emotions. shock, disbelief, happiness.

"i- i did. and i don't regret it. god i don't regret leaving him for his.. best friend" i laugh as i stare at her. i take a deep breath as i speak "stop the car" she stops so abruptly, the car brakes.

"are you regr-" i unbuckle my seat belt as i turn aside. i cup her face in between my hands, my eyes roaming across her entire features.

this is the woman i love. it feels so good to finally say it out loud.

and i kiss her.

and is everything i always wanted to feel. it's what i expected from every single one of my ex-boyfriends. is filled with hunger, desire, passion and love.

and my heart feels warm and i know now exactly what love was supposed to feel like.

the kiss lowers to something softer, one of her hands goes to my cheek, caressing it with her thumb as my hand moves to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. her other hand roams through my body to grip my waist.

"this feels like a dream" she mumbles in between kisses.

"i know, i know" i replied as i kissed her again and again, love-drunk. "but it's not. i'm yours se-mi. i'm completely yours" i whispered against her lips as she nodded excited. her nose softly caressing mine, an intimate gesture.

"can i start the car and get the fuck out of here, please? because i never want to look back" she says breaking the kiss. i nod happily.

"please, start the fucking car" i chuckle as i go back to my seat, connecting to the bluetooth of her car, i look at the playlist on my phone until i find the one.

"i am not the kind of girl

who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion

but you are not the kind of boy

who should be marrying the wrong girl"

she smacks me softly as she listens to the lyrics, rolling her eyes as i snort.

and as my eyes find hers, i know i finally am where i belong.

known actress leaves husband on the altar!

we saw our famous girl, that we all know and love, leaving rapper ''thanos' on the altar.

the last thing we heard from him to the press was: i hope she's happy now.

and she looks like it! because she's been sharing photos on social media with her new girl non stop!

let's wish a happy relationship to the recently out of the closet actress!

[arcadia-smith]

Note: Gonna be like 4 or 5 parts of this one. I've had this planned for so long.

Summary: I think the title speaks for itself.

TW: idk, angst, fem!reader is a traitor, Simon Riley is pissed. Mention of blood, torture. Let me know if I've missed anything.

Flashback—Two Years Ago

The campfire crackled, casting flickering orange light over the small clearing. It was one of those rare nights—no mission, no gunfire in the distance, no orders barking through comms. Just a handful of them out in the open, the cold air nipping at their skin while smoke curled into the dark sky.

Ghost sat across from you, mask off, but the skull-painted balaclava still hung around his neck. A rare sight, one not many got to see. His face was all sharp angles, tired eyes shadowed by the weight of too many sleepless nights.

“You keep staring like that, I’m gonna start thinking you’re in love with me,” you teased, poking at the fire with a stick.

He huffed, shaking his head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

Ghost leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. The firelight made his eyes glow, sharp and unreadable. “You always like playing games?”

Something in his voice made you pause. The teasing between you was common, but there was something different about tonight. The air was heavier. Charged.

“Depends on the game,” you murmured.

He studied you for a long moment, the quiet stretching between you. Around you, the others had already begun turning in for the night, leaving just the two of you with the fire and the dark.

Ghost’s voice was quieter when he finally spoke again.

“You ever think about leaving?”

You frowned. “Leaving what?”

“This life. The missions. The constant fightin’.” His fingers flexed, curling into loose fists. “Ever think about just... walking away?”

You exhaled slowly, considering him. “No,” you lied.

Ghost gave a short, knowing laugh. “Bullshit.”

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. The thought had crossed your mind before—more than once. The weight of it all, the things you'd done, the blood staining your hands. There were nights you dreamed of just disappearing.

But you never thought he did.

You watched him carefully. “Why are you asking?”

His gaze flickered to the fire, jaw tight. “No reason.”

You nudged his boot with yours. “Liar.”

Something passed over his expression—something raw, something real. It made your stomach twist, made you want to reach for him, to—

“I just…” He hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. Then, softer, “There’s gotta be more than this. More than just killin’ and losin’ people and waiting for the next fight.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Because, in the end, that was all you knew, wasn’t it?

You forced a smile. “You planning on running off, Riley?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “Not without you.”

The words hit you harder than expected.

Not without you.

You swallowed, the fire crackling between you, the world feeling too small all of a sudden.

If things had been different...

Maybe.

You nudged his boot again, this time softer. “Better be careful, Ghost. Someone might think you actually care about me.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t joke.

Instead, he just held your gaze and said, “Yeah. Maybe I do.”

And for the first time in a long time—you didn’t have anything clever to say back.

Present

Your wrists are bound. Ankles too. The cold steel of the chair presses against your spine, the weight of your capture sinking in. But you don't beg. You don't cry. You simply watch him.

Ghost stands before you, arms crossed, the balaclava masking everything except those sharp, piercing eyes. Eyes that had once softened around you. That softness is gone now. Replaced by something colder. Something lethal.

“You gonna start talking?” His voice is rough, scraped raw from battle, from betrayal. From you.

You tilt your head, feigning confusion. “About what?”

His gloved fingers curl into fists at his sides. He’s not stupid. You knows that. He’s watching, waiting, searching for the lie before it even leaves your lips.

“Don’t pretend you’re some meek, pathetic little girl,” he growls, stepping closer, the weight of him suffocating. “Not when I can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes.”

Your lips twitch—half amusement, half something else. “You always did see too much.”

“And yet, not enough,” he spits. His hands slam down on the arms of the chair, caging you in. “I trusted you.”

Something flickers in your expression, something so quick that most wouldn’t have caught it. But Ghost does. Regret? Guilt? No. It’s not that simple, is it?

“You shouldn’t have,” you murmur.

His fingers twitch like he wants to grab you, shake you, make you tell him why you did it. Why you sold them out. Why you left him picking up the bodies of men who should still be alive.

Instead, he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his mask like it might help steady him.

“You don’t get to sit there and act like this wasn’t your choice.” His voice is lower now, dangerous in a different way. “You chose this. Chose to lie. Chose to betray us. Betray me.”

Your gaze drops to his chest, the black combat vest littered with dirt, dust, blood—none of it his. You wonder how much of that blood is because of you.

When you speak again, your voice is quiet. Almost regretful.

“If you were in my position, you would have done the same.”

Ghost goes still. His entire body. Like a predator moments before the kill.

“I’d never be in your position.”

You smile then—small, sad. “That’s what you think.”

For the first time, uncertainty flickers in those dark eyes of his. And you know you're still in his head, whether he wants you there or not.

But Ghost is nothing if not relentless. And he’s going to get his answers. One way or another.

And you?

You're going to make him work for them.

It’s a standoff, a battle not fought with fists or bullets but with patience and will.

He’s waiting for you to break.

You're waiting for him to snap.

The dim light above you flickers, casting shadows that stretch and twist across the cold concrete walls. Somewhere outside this room, soldiers are cleaning up the mess you left behind. Counting bodies. Patching wounds. Cursing your name.

You wonder if any of them are still defending you. If any of them think maybe there’s an explanation.

But Ghost isn’t like them. He doesn’t deal in maybes. He deals in facts. In truths. And right now, the only truth that matters is that you put a bullet in the trust he once had for you.

His fingers twitch at his sides. Small. Almost imperceptible. But you catch it.

He’s angry.

Good.

You tilt your head, pushing against the restraints just enough to test them, to remind him that you're still here. “You gonna hit me, Simon?”

His jaw tightens.

You say his name on purpose, tasting the weight of it. Simon. Not Ghost. Not the soldier. The man.

But the man is gone, buried beneath layers of war and loss and rage.

“You’re not worth the effort,” he mutters.

You chuckle, the sound light despite the situation. “That’s not what you used to think.”

Ghost stiffens.

There it is. The crack.

You lean forward as much as the bindings allow, your voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “Tell me, do you hate me more because of what I did? Or because you didn’t see it coming?”

Ghost’s breath flares through the mask. His shoulders square, tension winding through every muscle like a wire pulled too tight.

Then, suddenly, he moves.

You barely have time to process before his gloved hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. It’s not gentle. But it’s not cruel either. It’s something in between, something laced with frustration, with an anger he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

His thumb brushes against your jaw, just for a second. A ghost of something softer.

And then—

“You have no idea how close you are to finding out exactly how much I hate you,” he murmurs, voice dark.

You swallow. Not fear. Something else.

His eyes burn into yours, and you realize with certainty—

Ghost is not here for vengeance. Not yet.

No, he’s here for the truth.

And he’s going to tear you apart to get it.

Ghost steps back, a shadow falling over you as he moves to the table beside you. The clink of metal as he retrieves something—a pair of pliers, a knife, a set of instruments. Tools for precision, for control, for breaking a person in more ways than one.

You don't flinch.

Don't give him the satisfaction of reacting.

“Still playing tough?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.

You don't answer. There’s nothing left to say.

Simon’s fingers linger over the pliers before he sets them down with a soft clink, his eyes still on you. “I should’ve known better. You were always good at hiding what was underneath.”

The words catch in your throat. A memory—of laughter, of something real between you, of trust that now feels like a cruel joke.

Your lips part. "I never lied to you."

Ghost’s eyes flash at the statement, like the very idea of you suggesting any innocence on your part angers him. "You didn’t need to. You betrayed me without saying a word. Without hesitation."

A beat of silence, and then he steps forward again, crouching so he’s eye level with you. The mask hides everything, but his posture speaks volumes. This isn’t just about information anymore. It’s personal.

"Tell me why," he demands, voice raw, "why the hell you did it."

You meet his gaze—cold, calculating. There’s nothing in your eyes now. Not fear, not guilt. Just silence.

The silence eats at him. You know it does.

And he knows that you know.

Simon’s hand snaps out like lightning, grabbing you by the jaw with an iron grip. Your teeth click together, the pressure of his fingers hard enough to make you see stars.

"I won't ask again," he growls.

You don't blink. Don't give him the satisfaction of even a flicker of weakness.

"Then you’ll never get an answer," you retort, voice tight but defiant.

His grip tightens.

"God, you’re stubborn." He lets out a harsh breath, more exasperated than angry now. His fingers leave your jaw, and he steps back. "Fine. You wanna play it like this? You wanna be a goddamn enigma?"

You don't respond.

For a long moment, he stands there, staring at you, calculating. You can see the storm swirling behind his eyes, and for the first time since the betrayal, you wonders if he’s considering breaking you. For good.

Then, to your surprise, he steps back even further, turning his back to you.

A loud clink echoes in the room as he picks up a chair, spinning it around before sitting down, his broad frame leaning into the backrest, arms crossed over his chest.

"Not gonna make it easy, huh?" he mutters, almost to himself. "Thought you might’ve learned something from your time with us."

You lift an eyebrow, the barest hint of a smirk curling your lips. "I’m not your puppet, Simon. Never was."

He narrows his eyes, glaring over his shoulder. "We’ll see about that."

Another long silence.

Then—

Click.

Your head snaps up at the sound of something sharp. Ghost is holding a knife now, just barely out of your line of sight, running it lightly over the edge of the table. The sound alone is enough to send a shiver through you.

"You’ve never been good at waiting, have you?" He tilts his head, his voice softening just a little. It’s the calm before the storm, and you both know it. "You always had to be in control. I gave you control. I trusted you. And now look where we are."

Simon’s eyes narrow dangerously. He leans forward slowly, placing the knife on the table with deliberate precision.

And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, Simon hesitates. His eyes flicker toward the blade, then back to her.

“Answer me, and I’ll make it quick,” he says, his tone now laced with an edge you haven't heard in years. "Why. Did. You. Do. It?"

You don't answer.

Because the truth is too damn heavy.

And Simon—Ghost—isn’t ready to hear it.

[inezrable]

Why I think The Human Theory is bullshit

They've spent 6000 years having to hide their every interaction with each other. If they become 50 year old humans, they'll have 30, maybe 40 years max and one will likely have to watch the other die (unless they do a Bill and Frank)

They legally do not exist. They have no birth certificate, passport, ID, nothing. Apart from phone numbers (which they only use to talk to each other) and addresses there is no proof they exist. How do we rectify this if they become human? They can't do miracles.

On a related note, resumes. They would need to make money, so they would need jobs. The only human jobs I remember them having in canon is working for the Dowlings (under fake names) and being knights (which doesn't really work on a resume these days). Unless "I held a position in the after life for 6000 years but was fired for something that my boss went on to do as well" can go on a resume, they're pretty much fucked in that department.

They want to stay around humans forever. Protect them, watch them grow, indulge in their creations. Not die like them, only having a few decades more to live amongst them.

[hockpock]

No child left behind screwed schools across the board, too. If you're already in the top percentages, where do you go? Even when a school was objectively doing well by insane metrics they risked losing funding by not "improving". How do you improve test scores by even a tiny percent when your school is setting the curve? There isn't extra credit on a standardized text that just took 2 weeks out of your school year.

You stress your kids, your teachers, your resources to tread water and still risk losing your funding. It's "I don't give 5 star reviews, there's always room for improvement~" bullshit.

Not even mentioning the corrupt follow the money loop of so called "voucher" programs and who is being paid to write and grade the standardized tests being used to set the metrics. (There's no nuance or extra credit on the tests either, even on essay questions you use the words they're looking for or you don't get the points. Congrats, you expressed you understand the concept but you still just brought down the scores for everybody. You failure. Why try.)

My mom taught foreign language for years, and the shift towards treating education as a business sent her into retirement early. KPIs to meet, endless meetings and tests taking up time desperately needed in the classroom, having to justify the existence of her career. Burnout rates are high, compensation is low and the kids are not okay.

I was today years old. That is disgusting.

No Child Left Behind is one of the worst things to ever be incentivized in schools. It was signed into law when I was 14. Reading Rainbow was my show as a kid. LeVar Burton played a big part in why I became an avid reader to date. The joy of it. It's an adventure around the globe and through different time periods without stepping on a plane or time machine.

Children parrot behavior. In grade school, I always wanted to read the same amount of books as my teachers (50 books) and managed to double that each year. Before No Child Left Behind, book fairs and Scholastic catalogs were a serious matter like your grandma's Fingerhut catalogs. Libraries were (and still are) a wonderland.

Reading comprehension and proficiency in schools has been declining for decades. A crisis. The joy of books isn't pushed anymore and I'm always saddened by it. It's one of the reasons why I post my book reviews and recommendations on here, as well as posts from others to encourage reading and (novel) writing. Kids will parrot your behavior while the education system sadly fails to return as that example.

[zyoumeval]

“Caleb is for the girls who are reluctant to show their true selves because they are afraid of losing their loved one after they show it.”

Caleb has known you for years to date, going through thick and thin, Caleb sees you as someone strong and unbreakable. He believes, whatever life throws you, you will still persevere fiercely on the path you choose. You will achieve greater things, you are going to reach the stars like what you’ve always told him.

Until one day, he couldn’t reach you through any form of communication. It’s like… you just vanished into a thin air after a certain situation that he knew it put you in a distress. He already consoled you, gave you company, and be by your side for days. But why were you not answering all of his messages and calls?

He knocks once, “Open the door, pip-squeak. It’s me.”

He knocks twice with more alert, “Pip-squeak, open the goddamn door. I need to see you right now.”

He groans in worry and knocks again, “Open the door or I’ll find a way to break this.”

After a while, he finally hears footsteps approaching the door of your apartment and a click echoed in his ears. With no time wasted, he turns the knob and enters your apartment hurriedly, closing the door behind him.

What Caleb doesn’t expecting to see is your disheveled state; bloodshot and swollen eyes, messy hair, and nose colored in red.

“Wha-” He shuts his mouth and pulls you gently by the wrist to your couch. He sits you down and kneels in front of you, his hands cradling yours carefully as if he’s afraid you’ll break the second he touches you.

Your eyes meet his, “Why are you here? Aren’t you already in Skyhaven?”

“You didn’t answer my calls or reply to my messages for the whole day. You expected me to not worry about a single thing?” He states. “Tell me. What happened?”

You shake your head and lean your head back to the headrest. You stare into the ceiling emptily, “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“You want me to believe that?” He says in a quiet voice. “Do better than that, I’m not taking any bullshit you say at this moment.”

You sigh softly and lift your head to look at him. Emotions still swirling hard inside you, honestly, you are unable to meet his sharp and demanding eyes. But this is Caleb that we are talking about, he will never stop and leave until he gets the answer he wanted.

“I think…” You pause, “What they said is true, me being irresponsible for my actions. If from the start I knew I couldn’t do it, I should’ve avoid taking the position. I should’ve just… chosen the usual position that I’m familiar with, not taking the risk like this. It supposed to go well, I supposed to be a person they always see, not like this.”

He scoffs softly and shakes his head, “Are you trying to impress them or what? Do they deserve your immense attention like this?” He replies firmly, “C’mon, college is a time to explore things that you haven’t done before and it’s a good thing. People made mistakes and you can’t always please them.”

He squeezes your hands and leans closer, “You’ve tried your best, you did your part well. There’s no expectation you need to fulfill at that part, so don’t lose yourself to matters like this.”

“How can I?! They talked about me and even spreading it to uninvolved people in this project! I was afraid, Caleb. I was afraid coming to college because of it!” You snap and tears run down freely over your cheeks.

“It’s them who can’t appreciate you, pip-squeak,” He refutes lowly. “You’ve reflected enough these past few days and you already knew the answer. They weren’t worth of your attention and care. There are many people who deserve it, find them. Don’t focus on them only, this world… doesn’t revolve around them. Take a step out of the bubble and you’ll see people who are worth it.”

Caleb lifts his body up and embraces you in his warmth, his hand rubs your back soothingly. Caleb shuts his eyes as he nuzzles the skin of your neck, you’re too good for this world, too naïve sometimes — and he wants to be the one who holds your hands to protect you from this cruel world.

“Don’t worry about a thing now, pip-squeak. I’m always here for you.”

[aesthetic-rxssxs]

Universe: Haikyuu Troupe: Academic Rivals 2nd Person Of View Warnings: Smut Words: 6556

"Short Skirt And An Even Shorter Fuse."

Tsukishima and you. The top of your classes and constantly fighting for the title of number one. He was older by one year, but you were in the same grade being that you had skipped a grade.

What you had thought was going to be a smooth and drama-free High School life, turned into more.

From snide remarks and jabs between you two, there was no room for smooth or drama-free. Pretty much the opposite if we're honest.

It got to the point where you'd deliberately cheer for everybody but Tsukishima on the Volleyball team at their games. Making sure to flip him off or stick your tongue out childishly.

Tsukishima would return it with a scowl or a roll of his eyes. He always prided himself on being good at things without trying. So, there was no way in hell he'd try now just to prove he was good to a nameless nobody he didn't even know that well. Right...?

Wrong. He did. Despite his best efforts to not let you get to him, you always managed to. It was to the point where even his team noticed.

Coach Ukai even provided you with snacks from his convenience store just so you could motivate him to stop being so half-assed. And who were you to deny free food?

One day, you decided to take a new approach and instead cheer for the opposing team. Now, that got Tsukishima's attention.

That day, he had put in more effort than he had before. It surprised everyone. Even you.

They had won by a landslide and you'd think he'd be all smug—but no. He surprised everyone once again by storming off the second the whistle blew. Grappling onto your arm and dragging you out.

He took you to the girl's locker room and shoved you against the wall. His arms were on either side of your head while his eyes were as intense as you'd ever seen them. "What the hell was that?"

"Huh? What the hell was what?" You shook off the initial surprise with a scoff and crossed your arms defensively.

"Don't bullshit me. Why were you cheering for them?" He narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw ticked with tension.

"Because I wanted to. Why else?" You snarked back, clearly annoyed with his new way of annoying you—asking too many questions.

"No, you did it to piss me off. Well, guess what? Congratulations. You've officially pissed me off," He leaned down, his tall stature never intimidating before, suddenly switched to down-right terrifying at this moment.

"So what if I did?" You narrowed your eyes back at him, creating a false face of annoyance and nonchalance.

"So? So?" He scoffed in disbelief. "So, it pissed me the fuck off and now you have to deal with the consequences.”

"Consequences?" You swallowed nervously. Not once had he shown this type of behavior to you. It was new and oddly attractive.

"Yup. Consequences." He breathed against your neck as he leaned his forehead right next to you against the wall. His hands clenched against the wall before his head tilted slightly to glance at you.

Your breath hitched and he was too far gone to mock you. Too tempted to waste time. Instead, he gripped the back of your neck and tugged you in for a rough kiss.

His other hand gripped your hip, tugging you closer as he kissed you eagerly. You were too shocked to do anything but melt into the kiss. Kissing back, you parted your lips.

That was all it took for him to strip off your shirt and tug you over to the showers, stripping his own clothes as he did.

Everything was a blur after that. From the last piece of clothing shed to the squeak of the shower's knob as it turned on, surrounding you with warm water, and to the sounds of skin on skin and the panting noises that came along with it.

Your back against the cold wall as Tsukishima held you up, panting and grunting in your ear as he rolled his hips. His arms tightened around your lower back as he held you up.

The feeling of his dick running along your walls as he fucked out all of the tension and unresolved feelings you two had over the past year, to the feeling of his lips and hands all over your body.

That was the start. The start of your hookups. The random texts and the blissful feelings ignited.

So, as you're at a party, in some skimpy short skirt your friend made you wear, Tsukishima couldn't stop checking you out.

He wasn't the only one, and that knowledge only made his jaw clench and a feeling enter the pit of his stomach. A feeling that can only be described as one thing—jealousy.

His eyes trailed over your body, noting everything on display. From your tits to the pretty pink panties that peeked out every time you bent over to pick up a drink.

You had always been one to be on the less social side. So, seeing you in an outfit like this was a surprise. One he didn't think he'd find himself loving and hating at the same time.

He could already picture it. Him, bending you over against some random piece of furniture in some random room as he slips your panties down your legs before he thrusts into you in one swift motion when he finally gets to tug down his boxers and pants.

Making sure to keep your skirt on so he can mock and tease you for it. Calling it 'a perfect slut's invitation'. He would pick up your panties and dangle them in front of your face, not moving an inch as he does.

Adding that he'll but your next pair with his name embroidered onto it for good measure. To make sure his perfect slut stays his perfect slut.

He could already feel the possessive need to drag you out of the center of the party and up into a random room upstairs to play out his fantasies.

The need trickled up his body until his feet started to move on their own.

In one swift motion, he gripped your arm—just like he did the first day your hookups first started—and dragged you upstairs without a care of who might've saw.

He slammed the door shut and locked it, picking you up under your armpits before throwing you onto the bed.

He crawled over you, trailing his hand down your waist. He reached your skirt and snapped the waistband of it, causing you to gasp and bite your lip.

He clicked his tongue at the movement and tugged your lip down. "Now what did I say about biting that pretty lip, hm?"

Your face flushed at his taunting before you reluctantly recited the words he'd basically engrained in your mind. "That it's your job..."

He smirked smugly, running his hand up and down your waist approvingly. "That's right. And why do you think I brought you up here?"

"Uh, I don't know," You mumbled, forcing yourself not to bite your lip. No matter how tempting it was.

He scoffed, squeezing your thigh as his hand trailed up, hitching it onto his waist, "Don't play coy with me, slut. We both know this skirt is so short you flash your ass by bending over."

He let out a harsh chuckle, "I should know. I saw those pretty pink panties you love so much the second you reached down for a beer."

Your lips parted in shock, your face flushed and your hands gripping the hem of your skirt tightly, willing them to magically grow longer in size.

"Trying to catch someone's attention?" He taunted as he slipped his hand up your thigh slowly, dangerously close to slipping up under your skirt.

You shook your head immediately, "N-no."

"Then why wear this, huh?" He leaned down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He closed his eyes, inhaling that sweet perfume you always wore.

The same one that now stains his sheets for days on end every time you come over.

"My friends made me..." You responded, gulping. You tried not to let his closeness affect you but it never really works in the end.

"Do you always listen to your friends?" He kissed along your neck, nipping every now and then. "Would you jump off of a cliff if they told you to?"

"No," You scoff out in disbelief to which he leans back and grips your jaw. "Watch your tone, sweetheart. I'm not the one flashing everyone, now am I?"

You pout, annoyed. But then you feel a striking sensation between your legs at the implication that he's jealous. And not just jealous, but possessive too.

"Not denying it, huh?" He chuckled and teased your nipples through your shirt. The movement was easy due to you not wearing a bra.

You gasped at the sensation, your head dizzy with pleasure. Your mind already turning to mush as you whimpered out, "Please don't stop, Tsuki..."

He smirked and stopped his movements. "What was that?"

Your lips formed into another pout, knowing he wouldn't continue until you stroked his ego with some begging. "Please, keep touching me..."

He hummed in acknowledgment, thumb rubbing against your ribcage, "Keep touching you where?"

"My breasts," You admitted, finding yourself still able to blush. Even after the many nights you've spent tangled in each other's sheets.

"Good girl," He purred out before tugging your shirt up, kissing up your stomach, leaving your breathing growing in huffs. He reached your breasts and sucked hickeys along them, marking you as his.

He relished in every moan and whimper you let out. Loving the way you gripped his hair when he swirled his tongue around your nipples.

"Of course you'd love some attention to your breasts, you slut," He chuckled and suckled around the perked bud. When he glanced up and saw you about to retort, he used his free hand to tweak your other nipple.

As he saw your lips part and your eyes squeezed shut, he knew his mission succeeded. A prominent smirk settled on his lips as he had gotten what he wanted. Your compliance.

No matter how many times you'd told yourself you'd never let anyone degrade you, he made it seem so enticing. Much to the point you ended up looking forward to it with every interaction you two had.

Even now as he degraded every little response you had to his teasing touches, it couldn't help but make you throb even more.

"That's a good girl," He cooed as he trailed his hands down your waist, caressing every part of you he could. His hands trail down to your hips, caressing them as he practically makes out with your breasts.

Your leg shifts to rest on his back, leg curving to rest your foot on his back where you rub up and down in appreciation to his attention.

He smirks, moving his hand up and under your skirt, teasing the waistband, and pecking your breasts before he kisses down.

He moves your leg up on his shoulder the lower he gets, kissing all the way down to your waistband. "Well if it isn't the one thing that had me throbbing this whole damn party..."

He lets out a husked chuckle when your breath hitches, trailing his finger along the waistband. "How cute."

You whine out, "Stop being so mean..."

"Mean? Mean?" He laughs in disbelief before he pinches the fabric, "Now, these are mean. Making me wanna tilt it up and fuck you in front of everyone. You're playing coy, sweetheart."

"I'm not playing anything," You whined out in protest before he tugged and let go, causing it to snap against your skin.

He grins up at you in a way that makes you think he'd be the perfect Cheshire cat in a play. "Oh, come on. I know you enjoy a little pain. You're my precious little masochist."

You huff, cheeks flushing as your whole body feels hot. You wish you could protest, but you knew it'd be futile. Let's face it, you are his little masochist.

"Ah, so you don't deny it, huh?" He moves his hands down and lifts your skirt up. "I knew my girl wouldn't."

His girl. Something he found himself saying more frequently. He couldn't help it. Especially when you give the best reactions. Like now, for example.

You were tilting your head back, swollen lips parted into a moan as he bit your thigh to emphasize your arousal to pain.

It worked perfectly, he had the perfect view of your panties and watched as a wet patch started to form. He grinned devilishly before he leaned down and poked his nose into your panties.

He relished in your surprised yelp, hips trying to move away but stopped by his nails digging into your thighs, pulling you back.

"Not so fast, pretty girl."

You swallowed hard, hands clenched together at your sides as he grinned, lips brushing against the fabric as he did. Which only serves to make your body tingle with pleasure.

He gave a nice open-mouthed kiss right on top of the wet patch, making your heart race.

"T-Tsukishima?" You trailed off before you yelped. His teeth nipped at your panties, slowly tugging them off, hands trailing up to follow the movements of your panties before he threw them to the side.

"H-hey!" You protested before he pinched your thigh, making you wince and instinctively look down.

"Don't worry, honey. I'll buy you a new pair." He rubbed your thigh before casually adding, "With my name embroidered onto them."

Your eyes widened in surprise but before you could ask him to explain further, his mouth is on your clit as a distraction. That instantly makes your brows tug together and your eyes roll back in a strung-out moan.

He nibbles gently, making your moan grow in pitch. He pulls back and kisses your swollen clit sweetly, looking up at you with a knowing smirk.

Your face is flushed and your eyes are half-lidded as you look down at him with a half-assed glare. Lips forming into a pout, "No fair..."

He chuckles, "Are you seriously complaining right now, sweetheart?"

You shake your head reluctantly and he takes that as a no. His hand rubs your thighs up and down, loving the sight of you laid out with your legs on his shoulders.

He makes a point to kiss up your thighs until he reaches where you want him most. He looks up and you nod in encouragement.

He dives in, licking a nice long stripe up along your slit, ripping another moan out of you. He continues, this time flattening his tongue and trailing his tongue up, making you shudder.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to control your noises but find that entirely impossible once he slips a finger in.

You choke on a gasp and your gummy walls clamp down on his finger in reaction. He hums in satisfaction and wraps his lips around your clit, suckling.

You whimper, legs trying to clamp around him but failing when he pinched your thigh with his free hand, making you stop.

You gulp when he slips another finger in, pumping them in and out before he pulls off your clit and pecks it. “You’re making such sweet noises for me.”

You whimper, the compliment making you blush even more.

“Please, Tsukishima…” You gasped, trying to think about anything but his relentless movements with his fingers. “I-I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” He taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance and confidence. He didn’t stop moving, finger-fucking you steadily while gently sucking on your swollen clit, making you writhe helplessly beneath him. “Can’t take it? Or can’t handle the fact that I’m the one making you feel this way?"

You swallowed, trying to find the right words but failing as your mind grows blank the more he touches you.

“How cute,” He cooed, borderlining on mocking. “You can’t even speak properly anymore. Just a pretty little mess for me, huh?”

“God, yes—just like that," You whined, not even hearing his previous comment when his fingers curled to hit that spongey spot that made your mind go blank.

“Look at you. So small, so needy. I could ruin you, you know. Make you want it so bad you wouldn’t know how to function without my fingers inside you.”

“Please,” You whimpered again, desperation creeping up to an almost embarrassing point. “I’m so close...”

“Close to what?” he challenged playfully, pulling his fingers out for just a second before plunging them right back in, mixing pleasure with just the right amount of edge.

“Tsuki!” You choked on a moan, trying to keep your dignity but finding it hard when he was teetering you to the edge of bliss. “Stop—stop teasing me!”

A devilish smirk crossed his lips, one you saw him make plenty of times in situations like this, “What’s the fun in making it easy for you?”

“I… I—” You stuttered, mind foggy from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and his relentless teasing. You clutched the sheets, knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself.

“That’s it, let go for me,” He encouraged, suckling harder on your clit. With a gasp, you felt the tension snap, and your entire body tensed up as pleasure surged through you.

“Good girl,” He murmured

“See,” He whispered with a teasing tone, licking his lips. “I told you I could ruin you, and no one else would even come close.”

“You’re insufferable.” You grumble out, not able to refute his evident-backed statement. You sat up on your elbows, looking down at him. The lower half of his face is glistening and it makes you flush.

He smirks at your comment, knowing it's a weak attempt to get back at him for his arrogant remarks. "You're just realizing that now?" He teases, his voice low and husky as he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, making you whimper at the loss.

He smirks at your reaction, loving the flustered expression that overtakes you. He crawls up over you until he's face-to-face with you. His face with a mischievous grin, bordering on a smirk.

"Look at that face... completely spent from just my fingers." The arrogant smirk still plays on his lips as he brings his fingers to his mouth, slowly sucking them clean.

"I bet you'd say anything right now just to have something else inside you." His voice drops further, becoming almost seductive.

You swallowed. He leans down and nuzzles his glistening nose against yours, face tilted in a way that lets him kiss the corner of your mouth.

"Would you rather my tongue? Or maybe..." He pauses, intentionally teasing you further. "...my cock? You're dripping wet and whimpering my name so nicely, maybe you're not so proud anymore, hmm?"

His dark eyes fixate on you with a mix of satisfaction and further intent. It was a look that you see just before he decides to fuck you.

"I can see it in your eyes, you want me to fuck you senseless. Beg for it." He commands, voice low and demanding.

He leans down, lips brushing against your ear. "Beg me to fill you up and I'll give you exactly what you need."

"God..." You moaned softly, your hips bucking slightly as you try to get friction anywhere. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and lust as you swallow thickly.

"Please..." You whimper, almost inaudible. You try again, louder this time, "Tsukishima..."

A smug grin spreads across his face, satisfied with himself for breaking your determination so easily. He leans down, catching your bottom lip between his teeth.

"See? I knew you could beg properly when you wanted something bad enough." His hand slipped between your thighs again, thumb brushing against your soaked folds.

"You want this?" He asks mockingly, moving his finger up slowly to brush feather-light over your clit.

"You want me to fill you up and make you forget everything else?" He adds, adding pressure. He can feel the way your breath quickens, hips slightly rocking as soft moans spill out of your swollen lips.

You choke on a gasp, nodding. His eyes boring into your foggy ones, eyes welling up.

He chuckles darkly, amused by your desperate attempts to draw him closer. With a swift movement, he removes his fingers, leaving you aching and whimpering.

"Greedy girl," He murmurs against your lips, reaching down to his belt, and unbuckling it. He licks his lips, the movement making you feel the whisper of his tongue grazing your lips.

Once he unlatches the metal, he unbuttons and drags the zipper down his pants. He tugs his boxers off just enough for his erection to slap against his abdomen.

He laughs at the way your mouth grows slack-jawed. He always loved the way your face morphed when you see his cock.

He tilts your head and gives you a quick slow kiss, body arching slightly as his erection squeezes in between your bodies. The feeling of him pressed against you making you moan into the kiss.

He pulled back, pecking your lips before he spoke. "Last chance to beg, princess. Should I fuck you or leave you like this? I think you deserve it for wearing such a short skirt."

His self-control is barely hanging on as he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily from anticipation. "Because I don't know if I can wait for you to answer, baby..."

His hips nudge forward slightly, letting you feel his thickness and the cool metal of his belt against your thigh. He grins when he hears your breath hitch, your body shuddering at the contrast of the cool metal to your heated body.

A smug grin plays on his lips as he teases you, pressing just the tip of his cock against your entrance without actually entering.

"You're so fucking wet, I could slide in so easily... Should I?" He leans down, catching your lip between his teeth again.

"Please...?" You whimper as you swallow down your pride, clit pulsing as he teases you. His self-control snaps at the desperate plea you made against his lips, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides himself inside you slowly.

"Oh fuck..." He whispers, voice thick with pleasure as he stretches you. "You were right to beg, baby..."

He begins to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm, making your body arch. His hand finds your breast, squeezing and kneading it as he picks up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He groans, burying his face in your neck, breathing ragged. "I could fuck you all night..."

He pulls out of you suddenly, his cock slick with your juices, making you whine out in protest. He stands up, towering over you as he grips your ankle and drags you to the edge of the bed.

"On your knees, princess. You know how I like it," He orders, his voice cold and commanding. "I'm not done with you yet."

You quickly get on your knees on the bed, your ass high in the air, waiting. Your cheeks are flushed, your hair disheveled, and you're covered in a thin a layer of sweat.

He takes one look at you and almost looses control again. He spreads your thighs wider with his hands. "Atta' girl."

"God damn..." He mutters, watching your soaking wet pussy spread open for him. He spreads your cheeks further apart, lining his tip against your entrance again, and pushes in hard and deep, making you cry out and grip the sheets tightly.

He finds your hips again, his thumb spreading you wider while you can do nothing but moan and whimper.

"Fuck, you're taking me so well... such a good girl, aren't you?” He increases his pace, each thrust hitting deeper, slapping against your ass. You choke on a moan, clenching with every thrust.

One hand moves to grab your hair, tilting your head back and making you arch. "Who owns this perfect little pussy? Who fucks it every other day and eats it out the other days, hm?"

"Y-you..." You gurgled out, drool pooling in your mouth before it spilled onto the poor unsuspecting host's sheets.

"Fucking right it's me." He snarls possessively, his hips snapping forward and back, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

His other hand moves to play with your clit, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. You squeal, the harsh treatment making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. "F-fuck...Tsuki..."

He chuckles darkly at your desperate cries, feeling the smug satisfaction of owning your pleasure so completely.

"Ngh," He slurred slightly. "Scream my fucking name then," He demands, rubbing your clit faster, harder. Aiming to drive you wild.

"Let everyone at this stupid party fucking hear who wrecks this tight cunt. My cunt."

His cunt. And there's no way you'd ever deny him that. Not when he fucks you so good you forget until the beautiful aching settles in your foggy brain when you wake up the next morning.

You whimper and grab the sheets as each thrust makes your body coil forward. Your breathing heavy, panting like a dog.

He grins wickedly and leans down over you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as his hips slam forward in rapid succession, his thick length massaging that perfect spot inside you.

His actions only serve to make you cry out louder, moans and whimpers impossible to hold back. His fingers are a blur on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come on, princess."

You gasp out desperately, shaking your head as you croak out, "S' too much... always too much..." You whine, body shaking with pleasure as his hips never falter.

"Too much of what?" He growls, breathing ragged. His smirk is present as his warm breath washes over your shoulder. He continues to pound into you mercilessly, his fingers working your swollen bud furiously.

"Too much of my thick cock stretching you out?" He chuckles cruelly, punctuating each question with a hard thrust. Making you thrust forward with his harsh thrusts, whimpering and puffing out breaths.

You claw at the sheets, the pool of drool underneath your mouth making the experience all the more surreal.

His free hand wraps around your throat from behind, tilting your head back further as he continues his brutal pace. He wipes the drool off the corner of your lips.

"Answer me, princess. Is this cock too much for your needy little cunt?" His fingers move faster on your clit, bringing you dangerously close to orgasm.

You can't form words, too choked up on your sobs and hiccups to properly respond. Moans and whimpers are the only things you're able to make.

With a wicked smirk, he tightens his grip around your throat slightly, silencing your desperate noises.

"I'll take that as a yes," He chuckles darkly, his relentless pace making the bed creak ominously. The squelching noises of you sucking him in on par.

You mewl, arching as he hits that spot inside that makes everything not register. Nothing but the overwhelming pleasure that makes your body tingle.

He lets out a satisfied grunt, feeling your inner walls start to convulse around his length. "Fuck… you’re so fucking tight," He groans his fingers moving in frantic circles on your clit as he chokes you gently.

"You think I can make you cum harder than all those other times I've fucked you nice and snug?" He chuckles tauntingly, kissing your temple.

You gasp and lean into his touches, body lolling back and slacking as you clench uncontrollably, body on the verge of euphoria. Moans and desperate pleas coming out in croaks.

He smirks in satisfaction as he feels your walls flutter desperately around his throbbing cock. His fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, your orgasm hovering tantalizingly close.

"That's it, clench tighter for me, princess. Milk my cock like you've never had anything better. Which we both know you haven't..." He teases, nibbling on the shell of your ear.

You whimper and clench, clit pulsing beneath his skilled fingers, body aching and sweaty as it takes every punishing thrust of his.

He watches your body writhe and tense, your moans getting louder and more desperate. His teeth sink into your neck possesively, making you yelp.

"You know what would make this even better?" He rasps darkly into your ear, and his finger moves faster, pressing down harder on your little bud.

You pant, gulping before you manage to respond. Croaking out a small, "What?"

"If I wrapped my arms around your waist, and pulled you even closer, making it hurt a little more but feel even better," He growls, his powerful arms wrapping around your midsection.

He pulls you back, his chest to your back so that his mushroom-shaped tip hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

You whine and convulse, your body shuddering at the feeling of his arm squeezing you. The pressure makes you feel his cock pound into you even more. You croak, "F-fuck...!"

"That's right, princess. Take my cock like a good slut. You're squeezing me so perfectly I might actually cum before you," He punctuates each word with another brutal thrust.

He maintains his punishing pace against that sensitive spot deep inside you, panting, "Or maybe I'll just edge you..."

“Tsuki, Tsuki, Tsuki, Tsuki...!" You let out a dragged-out moan in a mantra. Pleading for him to continue or to stop, you don't know. All you know is that he's fucking your gummy walls just right.

Groaning in arousal at your desperate moan of his name, he leans in to nip sharply at your ear.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty begging for me," He rasps, his hips maintaining that brutal pace. The wet sounds of flesh smacking against flesh fill the air.

"Can...can't take it, Kei, baby..." You sniffled, chirping out a whimper. "Gonna—gonna cum."

He smirks darkly, knowing he's making you go crazy with pleasure. His hand on your hip tightens, pulling you back onto his cock as he pistons into you relentlessly.

"That's it, princess. Cum for me. Remind me of why I keep your pretty little cunt around..." He encourages into your ear, pinching your clit.

You throw your head back and buck, cumming around him on instinct. You sob and spasm, your body squirming as he fucked you through your orgasm. You whisper his name out in a mantra, vision blurry.

His eyes roll back in ecstasy as he feels your tight little cunt milking his cock for all it's worth.

He grunts and pounds into you a few more times before finally stilling, his cock throbbing inside you as he unloads a massive load of his seed deep into your womb.

Your eyes widen and you claw at his arm, your voice slurring, "N-no... can't cum in me," You hiccup, "Not on... birth control...."

He freees at your words, his mind hazy from the intense high of his orgasm. For a moment, he just stays still, buried deep inside you as he processes your words.

Then, he pulls out, his softening cock slipping out of your used hole with a wet plop! You fall down onto your front, shaking and panting as you try to calm down.

Your body clenches from the after-effects of your intense orgasm, making his and your shared cum spill out from your position on your front with your ass up.

He watches your body wracked with aftershocks, his seed mixed with your fluids trickling down your inner thighs. His jaw tightens.

"Damn," He mutters softly to himself, his eyes fixated on your spread thighs and your puffy, well-used little cunt.

You pant, looking back at him from over your shoulder. Your eyes are half-lidded and red from your previous sobbing.

"I'm sorry, princess," He murmurs softly, reaching out to gently stroke your cheek. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I didn't mean to cum inside you. I'll make sure to pull out next time, okay?"

You swallow, not used to his sweet demeanor but finding yourself not complaining in the slightest. You hum against his lips in acknowledgment, "Okay.."

He smiles softly, ruffling your hair before pulling back. He watches your body, your back glistening with sweat and your thighs sticky with their mixed fluids.

He swallows hard, his Adams apple bobbing and his eyes flicking to your round bottom. He bites his lip, eyes darkening again. "Baby?"

"Yeah...?" I croak out.

"Can I...?" He hesitated, his fingers trailing along your curves possesively. "Can I check if any of it went in?" He asks softly, his fingers splaying out on your bottom possessively.

"Just to make sure none got in..." You nod, giving him permission to check with a mumble, "I s'ppose so..."

He nods, his fingers spreading your bottom apart gently. He leans down, his face inches from your used hole. He blows gently, making you shiver, before pressing his mouth to your aching entrance.

He licks gently, cleaning you up and checking for any of his seed that may have gotten inside. You whimper and grasp the sheets, his check-up making you squirm.

He hums softly, his tongue delving inside you to make sure none of his cum got in. He pulls back after a moment, satisfied that he got it all out.

He presses a soft open-mouthed kiss to your hole before standing up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tilting your skirt back down.

You pant and look over your shoulder, breathing ragged. "Are we done...? Can I...Can I get up..?"

"Mmh," He answers softly, watching you closely. He's half hard again from how needy and sensitive you look. "You can get up," He adds, his eyes flicking down to your thighs again.

You nod and roll onto your back, slowly sitting up, your body feeling sore and achy.

"Easy there..." He moves closer, catching your waist as you sit up unsteadily. His eyes darken slightly as he notices fresh tears welling up in those beautiful eyes.

"Are you okay?" His touch is surprisingly gentle now, all business-like dominance forgotten. "Did I... hurt you?"

"No," You let out a choked laugh and sniffle, "Just the overwhelming pleasure, you know?"

He blinks, momentarily stunned by your response. Then slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Overwhelming pleasure, huh?" He leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear. "Well, princess, that's called being fucked properly. But that’s no news to you, is it?”

You scoff, but your lip twitches up into a grin. You stand up and reach for your clothes that he had thrown to the side prior. He watches you dress, his eyes roaming over your figure appreciatively.

He can't help but notice the way you wince slightly as you pull your pink panties up. He stands up slowly, buttoning his shirt back up, "Where are you going?"

"Well, I can't exactly stay at this party all wobbly-legged. I'm a total mess. I'm not trying to have the walk of shame and parade around. I'm going home." You go to the nearby mirror and fix your appearance.

He nods, understanding. He moves to stand beside you in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at you.

He runs a hand through his messy blonde hair, looking a bit worn out from the late night and the intense fuck session. "Alright, I'll walk you home."

You smile crookedly, "Thanks."

His reflection smirks softly back at you, watching you try to tame your wild hair. He noticed how you wince slightly as you put on your heels. His jaw tightens slightly.

"Are you sore?" He asks softly, his voice lower than usual. You turn around to look at him once you're satisfied with how you look.

"You know I am." You peck his cheek and grab your purse before heading to the door and opening it. "You coming?"

He follows you out of the room, his eyes on your swaying hips. He catches up to you easily, his long legs eating up the distance. He places a hand on the small of your back as you walk down the hallway, guiding you gently. "I'll make sure you get home safe."

"That's not what I'm worried about. I just hope nobody can smell the sex on us. I do not want to be known as the chick who hooks up at some random parties." Your nose scrunched up at the mere idea.

He chuckles softly, his hand tightening on your waist possessively as he guides you through the crowded party. He can feel eyes on you, wondering where you disappeared and who you disappeared with.

He can already imagine the whispers and rumors spreading like wildfire tomorrow. Especially considering how you two are known as academic rivals—enemies.

You lean onto him, trying to mask the wobble in your step as you head out of the party. He wraps an arm around your waist in response, pulling you closer to him to steady you.

He can feel the curious stares and whispers following you two out of the party. He ignores them, focusing on getting you home safely before the rumors start to spread on the internet.

You follow his steps. His stride is steady and sure, guiding you down the dark streets leading away from the party. The crisp night air hits your faces, covering you both up slightly.

He steals glances at you every few seconds, noticing how you're trying to walk normally despite everything. "Stop pretending like you're not limping."

You huff, pouting. "M’ not pretending... I'd just rather not put any unnecessary strain.."

He arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he glances down at your determined yet pained strides.

In one swift movement, he scoops you up bridal-style, ignoring your startled gasp. "Like hell you're walking any further. I'm carrying you."

"What the hell, Tsukishima?!" You yelped, holding onto him tightly in fear of falling. He just smirks, his arms tightening around you to keep you secure as he continues walking.

He ignores your outburst, knowing damn well you wouldn't be able to walk much further anyway. His long strides eat up the distance, bringing you closer to your home with each step.

You huff and instead let your head fall back, watching the scenery upside-down while he carries you to your house. He finds the whole situation amusing, carrying his academic rival and casual hook-up like a bride.

He can't help but chuckle softly to himself as he walks, the upside-down view of your face making him smirk wider.

He reaches your house sooner than expected, his long legs covering the distance quickly. You lift your head up, your head spinning from whiplash before you rest your head on his shoulder.

He sets you down gently in front of your door, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. He fishes your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door swiftly.

He steps inside, carrying you again once he's inside, kicking the door shut behind him. "Shh...! My parents will hear you," You whisper shout at him.

"Then stop squirming, "He mutters softly, his hands on your ass to keep you still as he carries you up the stairs.

He freezes suddenly, hearing your parents' TV on downstairs. He swallows, trying to be quieter. "Your room?"

You nod and he carries you to your room, being as quiet as possible. He sets you down on your bed gently, looking around to make sure everything is in order.

Satisfied, he turns back to you, kneeling down to remove your heels. "Stay put," He orders softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nod, head bobbing and your eyes droop as the night finally catching up to you. He watches your eyelids flutter heavily, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he realizes just how drunk you actually are.

Finishing with your heels, he gently tucks your blanket around you, ensuring you're comfortable before standing up quietly. "Sleep it off, idiot."

You place your hand on his before he leaves, murmuring out a soft, "Be careful on your way out."

Tsukishima pauses, glancing down at your hand on his with a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Momentarily taken aback by your sudden concern, a softness brushed across his usually stern features.

With a brief nod, he squeezes your hand lightly. "I can handle myself."

You smile softly before you let go of his hand and slowly succumb to sleep. He watches your breathing even out, a rare gentle expression softening his angular features.

With a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, he turns and exits your room silently, closing the door with barely a sound.

Masterlist. Masterlist.haikyuu

February 9, 2025. PST: 7:40 PM.

[k-nayee]

Tik-Tok Killed the Video Star Hazbin Hotel i

wc: 3.7k a/n: ngl i had fun making this! hope y'all like it

Traveler M.List

| Next

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

LIVE: [Streamer: @Real___]

The ring light glowed bright, bathing your face in a soft artificial radiance that smoothed out every imperfection.

You weren’t taking any chances.

Leaning in toward your webcam, you tilt your head slightly as you examined your reflection in the streaming preview window. With precise and practiced movements, you adjusted a stray strand of hair, ensuring it fell perfectly into place.

Your skin had to be flawless—if only for this final performance.

It was almost funny, how even now, as you prepared to confess every last unforgivable sin, you still cared about how you looked.

The viewer count climbed.

At first only a few hundred trickled in. Then thousands. Then tens of thousands.

10K...40K...70K...100K...

The comment section was already a chaotic mess of scrolling text. The usual flood of usernames, some familiar, some new, all merging into a blur of reactions.

[SourCandyBites]: U MONSTER

[AztecStar]: OMG omg ily pls say hi to mexico 🇲🇽🇲🇽!!!

[lonondel_90]: WTF is this whats even happening rn??

[ChillPillPlease]: YALL SHE JUST TROLLING CHILL.

[MirrorVain]: WHY aint nobody talking about how GOOD she look??

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head in amusement as you finally flash your signature smile—bright, plastic, and perfected after years of camera training.

"Hey y’all! You already know what it is—" You paused for dramatic effect, watching the comments spike as your voice. "I know I know. This is a little weird right? Seeing me on Twitch instead of TikTok? But hey, gotta keep things fresh!"

Another flood of comments. Another spike in viewers.

120K...145K...190K...210K...

You could practically feel the world tilting toward you, drawn in like moths to a flame. The chat moved at breakneck speed, usernames flying by too fast to read. Still you caught glimpses:

[user876543]: Omg it’s really you!! 😭💖

[s1nisterViper]: NAH WTF R U DOIN HERE💀

[lilpeepfan99]: Say hi to Brazil!! 🇧🇷

[exposedtea]: MONSTER. YOU DESERVE TO ROT.

[simp4real___]: IDGAF WHAT THEY SAY I LOVE YOUUUU 😍😍😍

[SOKOLOV_feds]: 🧐👀

Your smile never faltered. Hate, adoration, indifference—it was all the same to you. Attention.

And right now you had it in abundance.

"So! Today we’re doing a special edition of Get Ready With Me—this one coming with a little bit of TEA!" You reached toward your makeup bag and dragged it into frame. The zipper unzipped smoothly, revealing an array of pristine cosmetics neatly arranged.

Foundation, concealer, brushes, powders—every tool of the trade, ready to transform you into the best version of yourself.

You picked up a tube of primer and squeezed a small amount onto your fingertips. As you rubbed it into your skin with slow methodical circles, you continued, voice light, almost casual. "Mmm oh yeah. You may be asking what are we getting ready for? Well you'll just have to wait and see."

A playful wink, the same one you’d done a thousand times before. It sent wave of anticipation rippling through the chat.

[hotdogwater24]: BRO WHAT IS GOING ON 💀💀💀

[kookiebxtch]: This feels...off.😅

[Skyline_Chaos]: WTF IS HAPPENING RN

[MurmurQueen]: this is so creepy stop😭😭

[AussieAmazed]:can u say hi to australia???

[NoFilterNell]: NAH THIS SOME REAL SHIT

[MidnightMuse]: get ready for what???👀

"Now I wanna be real with you guys. I really, truly do." You reached for a cleansing pad, running it over your skin evenly. "So I’ve decided to confess. Right here. Right now."

There was a different energy behind your voice tonight—something simmering just beneath the surface.

"First step, obviously is to start with a clean base. Gotta get rid of all the built-up dirt, oil, and, well..."—you let out a short laugh—"...bullshit."

[tea_with_tasha]: THE SHADE LMAOO

[cancelmebby]: Tf is this real life????

[JustCuriousNow]: confessing what kinda lost here

[SugawithdatTae]: yall know who she talm bout?👀

[softie4u]: GO TO HELL YOU BITCH

[Yunnie0678]: YOU KNOW WHAT TF U DID LAST YEAR

You moved onto foundation, pumping a precise amount onto a beauty sponge before dabbing it onto your cheeks and blending outward. With every soft pat against your skin the words left your mouth effortlessly.

"So let’s get into it: I was a regular person once. Just some nobody who blew up on TikTok overnight. And with fame...comes power. And with power? Ohhh, chat...the things I did I tell ya! And I got away with it too?? But no more secrets. No more running."

The next hour unfolded like a twisted diary entry.

You painted your face while painting a picture of your sins; every crime, every manipulation, every disgusting, unthinkable act you had committed with full knowledge that your wealth and influence would keep you safe.

Fraud...

Blackmail...

Backroom deals...

Murder....

Assualt...

Hush money...

From the people who had helped you to the people you had destroyed. You told them everything.

You named names; politicians, CEOs, celebrities, fellow influencers. Hell even Royal families! Anyone who had been untouchable...until now.

You had burned every bridge and exposed every secret.

The chat became an unreadable flood of reactions.

[OhMyGaaaawd]: omggggggg i cannot with this

[xani]: MY SHAYLA WHY?!😭😭 WE WERE ROOTING FOR YOU WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

[DenialZone]: I KNEW YALL MFS WAS EVIL

[fbi.gov]: 🚨🚨🚨

[WhySoSerene]: NAH U DESERVE DEATH FR💯💯

[whistleblower88]: you lying no way u did that😱

[Karma]: mf calm as if she didnt just expose all elites BRUH

[Atieh and Jacky's Therapy Sessions_stan]: IM STILL WITH YOU BABY 😍😍😍

By the time you reached the final steps of your routine, your face was fully made up—foundation, concealer, contour, a touch of highlighter. Perfection.

You checked the viewer count.

10.7 MILLION.

You chuckled under your breath, a smug little thing as a satisfied smirk crept onto your lips. "Oh this is definitely going down in history."

Then—

BANG BANG BANG

You froze at the sound. It echoed through the house, shaking the walls, reverberating through your bones. Your brows lifted slightly but your expression remained eerily calm.

[whoopsieD]: UHHH THAT DIDNT SOUND GOOD

[itzjustameme]: LMFAOOOOO THEY COMIN FOR UUUU

[nottherussianmafia]: 🤨

[WTF_Lunar]: WTF WAS THAT

[OfficerPlease]: those cops or security??

[UrDeepn8p]: THIS IS SOME MOVIE TYPE SHIT FR😭😭

[nameizzuzJeSOOS]: is this real or staged idk

The camera caught every detail—the way your lips curled into something almost amused, the slow way you turned your head toward the microphone.

"Oopsie." You giggled. "Guess I made some of y’all’s faves a little upset. Think they’re out for blood?"

The pounding grew louder.

With one last spritz of setting spray, you wave your face dry, ensuring everything stayed flawless. "No worries. I’m already one step ahead~" Reaching down under the desk, your fingers curl around cold metal. With a practiced motion you lifted it into the frame.

[PistolPapi]: HOLY SHIT is that a GUN

[youshouldrot]: yo YO yo wtf wtf wtf

[Stan___4evr]: mommy? sorry. mommy?

[FBI_watchlist69]: bro put the gun DOWN

[YoYoYeller]: kill yourself already, u deserve it

[rideordie_real___]: NOOOOO PLEASE STOP 😭😭😭

[not_a_cop]: 👀👀👀

Your head tilted as the shotgun balanced effortlessly in your grip. You popped it open with a satisfying snap, revealing two gleaming buckshot shells and close it once more.

You turned to the camera, smiling like a Barbie commercial. "And for those who have caught on—why yes I am depressed, mentally unstable, and quite frankly, ready to leave this dipshit of an earth."

[sweetrevenge23]: NO FUCKING WAY

[h_scanner]: 🚔🚔🚔🚔

[deathwish69]: YO WAIT HOLD ON

[pleasedontdoit]: 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[hellawaits04]: LMAOOOOO ICONIC

[kenslaysUp]: no way this is happening rn

[moneymoves3000]: THIS SOME BLACK MIRROR SHIT

You let out a small breathy laugh. "Alright but seriously." Adjusting your hold on the shotgun, you shift it into one hand as you pressed the other against your chest. "I wanna say I’m sorry. To everyone I’ve hurt, to everyone I’ve lied to. To my fans, my friends..."

Your voice dipped into something softer. Something real.

"To everyone I’ve wronged I’m sorry. To all my haters and naysayers—congrats you were right. Not that it matters. Nothing I say will atone for my sins and for what I’ve done. But maybe...maybe my death will be enough?"

A beat of silence.

A second of silence. Then—

CRASH

The unmistakable splintering of wood followed by the thud of footsteps flooded into the lower level of your house. They got in.

The chat exploded in panicked messages.

[fuckauthority]: DID Y’ALL HEAR THAT???

[paranoidxoxo]: THEY’RE IN THE HOUSE😱😱

[daddyissues420]: OH MY GOD

[govwatcher]: LAW ENFORCEMENT INCOMING

[jesuschristirl]: REPENT NEOW🙏🏾🙏🏾

[bigbootybitch33]: GIRL RUN WTF

[gov_watchlist98]: YOU’RE FUCKED LOL

[hotgoss411]: WE ARE WITNESSING HISTORY RN

The comments was moving so fast now that it was unreadable.

You turned back to the camera, shotgun resting against your shoulder and beamed. "Oh and before I forget—" You gestured toward your laptop with your free hand. "This current live-stream is embedded with a virus that sends every single piece of evidence—every file, every video, every receipt—to every single person connected to my livestream. Surprise!"

[cybercrimes_unit]: ☠️☠️☠️

[We0ll see8]: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

[moral_justice]: LIVING LEGEND.

[snapeb00tysit]: DO IT PUSSY

[DudeNoChill]: bro wtf stop playin

[Punk0Lu2k]: DOES IT CONTAIN YOUR NOODS TOO??👀👀

[Brokie8ren]: AYE SEND ME SUM MONEY BEFORE YHOU KILL YOSELF, MY CASHAPP $STARRYNUTT

"So even if they do stop me..." You let the words linger, a satisfied smile curling at your lips. "Still checkmate. "

Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs.

You could hear them charging down the hall. Seconds away.

You shifted the shotgun, maneuvering it with precision in a way its angled perfectly against your head as your finger curled over the trigger. At the same time, your other hand hovered over the ENTER key on your laptop.

"All I gotta do is press this button and—"

Your bedroom door burst open.

The camera didn’t capture who entered. But you saw them.

And you grinned.

"Too late fuckers!"

Your fingers moved at once.

Click.

BANG.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

A dull aching pain throbbed in your skull, deep and unrelenting, as if something had cracked open inside you.

Your body felt...off.

Too light and too heavy all at once, like your limbs weren’t quite yours anymore. A sluggish warmth clung to your skin thick and oppressive making it hard to breathe.

Your senses finally adjusted.

The first thing you noticed was the smell; burnt ash. Sulfur. Smoke curling in the air like invisible fingers.

Then came the sound; distant screams, eerie laughter, overlapping whispers that didn’t belong to any one person but still slithered into your ears like they were meant for you.

Your eyelids fluttered open.

And what you saw?

Red.

Clouds churned in dark ominous shades as a massive pentagram symbol loomed high above—it glowed sinisterly, slicing through the swirling clouds in sharp precise lines.

A moon hung beside it—a twisted scarred orb that looked as though it had been dragged from the depths of something far darker than night. And even higher in the distance, just barely visible against the red skyline, was the faint shimmer of white...possibly a star?

Jagged structures around you—half skyscrapers, half nightmares—loomed in impossible angles, their neon lights flickering in glitchy uneven patterns. The ground beneath you was scorched, still smoldering from whatever eternal fire had tried and failed to burn it all away.

You swallowed hard.

Something in the back of your mind whispered what you already knew.

This wasn’t a nightmare.

You were dead.

And this was Hell.

For a long frozen moment you simply sat there, staring at the pavement beneath you. Your breath came shallow and uneven. Your pulse—if you even had one anymore—drummed against your ribs.

Then your fingers twitched.

Something was in your pocket. Something smooth and solid...something familiar.

You slowly reached down and pulled it out:

Your phone.

A relieved breath escaped your lips. "Oh thank goodness."

The cool glass felt real in your hands, grounding you in a way nothing else could. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe you could figure this out. Maybe you could find a way to call someone—

You glanced at the screen only to freeze.

No Service.

The relief shattered into ice-cold panic.

Your grip tightened, thumb swiping down to refresh—no bars. No Wi-Fi. No lifeline.

You tried again. And again. And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and—

Nothing.

Your stomach lurched. Your hands shook.

Something inside you snapped.

You sat on your knees, clutching the useless phone to your chest as you let out a wail. "NO! NO! NO PLEASE GOD! I'M SORRY!"

The words tore from your throat raw and broken. You gasped between sobs, squeezing your eyes shut as your nails dig into your palms.

"DON'T DO THIS TO ME! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO MEEEEE—"

A soft chime.

Your eyes snapped open, breath catching in your throat. Sniffling, you pull it down to see the glowing screen. Your apps were still there.

Then, with a cautious swipe, you opened your gallery only for your heart to nearly stop.

All your pictures? Gone. Every selfie, every meme, every thirst trap, every aesthetically-pleasing shot of overpriced outfits? Erased.

And in their place?

Pictures. Screenshots. Videos.

All of them evidence of every fucked-up thing you’d ever done. Torture. Blackmail. Setups. Your biggest and most heinous crimes, all caught in 4K with timestamps, captions, and receipts.

You scrolled through them casually like flipping through an old yearbook.

"Oh damn almost forgot about that one. Good times." you muttered, rewatching one of your personal favorites—a high-definition well-lit compilation of your greatest hits.

God it was better than TV.

Speaking of—

A chill crawled up your spine.

The temperature around you shifted as a strange charged energy pressed down on your skin. The lights flickered wildly for a moment, glitching, before steadying.

You slowly stand to your feet as a towering figure suddenly appears a few feet away.

He was sharp, all jagged edges and neon accents, his black and red suit crisp and immaculate. But what stood out the most was his head—

An old-fashioned television screen.

The glass surface flickered erratically between distorted sharp-toothed grins and warped images of you from moments ago, as if he had already been watching you. Recording you.

Behind him stood several other demons. All tall, hulking, waiting for orders.

"Well well well...what do we have here?" His voice came layered—not just one tone, but multiple. Overlapping slightly like an old commercial playing on repeat.

"Huh." You tilted your head. "Who the hell are you?"

The screen on his face glitched violently. His grin remained but the static in his voice sharpened.

"You must be newcomer. How quaint." He took a step forward, his goons following suit. "Allow me introduce myself—"

With a flourish, he spread his arms, crackling energy surging through his body like a failing broadcast tower.

"I am VOX, Overlord of the Digital Age. Master of television, entertainment, and media. Everything broadcasted, everything recorded—"he gestured widely to the neon-lit cityscape behind him, "it all bends to me. And you, sweetheart, are standing in my domain."

"Uh-huh. Cool. Anyway—" you slid your phone into your pocket, "I was kind of busy. You need something Static Boy?"

A nearby streetlight exploded in a burst of pixels and sparks.

"Do you even comprehend where you are?" His voice was calm, but beneath it was a deep growing irritation.

"Yeah yeah. Hell. Domain. Big scary Overlord." You waved your hand dismissively. "Honestly I couldn't give two shits right now."

The second those words left your mouth something shifted.

Vox’s face flickered as air around him spiked like an overcharged circuit.

You didn’t know this guy but you sure as hell knew that reaction. He hated that.

And suddenly you were interested. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms, smirking up at him. "You must be one of those old-heads? Damn. You must hate people like me then."

Vox’s screen flickered again, his glow flaring slightly. "People like you?"

You grinned.

"Influencers."

There it was. That flash of disgust.

"Yup. TikTok mostly. Millions of followers. You know the usual." You grinned. "Guess we’re in the same industry huh?"

Vox’s screen glitched violently. "Your meddlesome kind have stolen relevance from true entertainment. It is no shock your type always finds its way down here with all the pollution you do. How dare you to even think you could be on my level?!"

You folded your arms. "Oh no. The evil TV man thinks I’m annoying. However will I recover?"

"You have no power here," he hissed. "I control what is seen. I control what is heard. I control what is remembered. Any pathetic influencers that land in my Hell?" He chuckles darkly. "I make sure they’re erased permanently. No fame. No following. Just nothing."

At that you finally laughed; a short and mocking, entirely unimpressed laugh.

"Oh. I get it now." You grinned. "You’re just pissed because TV isn’t relevant anymore. You’re an old man who's generation ruined everything for mines, and now you’re mad that social media overshadow you?"

The air around him screamed for half a second before steadying. His grin stayed but it was tighter now. "You’re bold."

You shrugged. "And you’re outdated."

Vox’s face flashed red.

A beat of silence...

Then chaos.

Vox’s goons lunged, their movements sharp and inhuman as they closed in on you. They were faster than anything you’d encountered.

You barely had time to react as their glinting claws shown from the glow of the city around you. Instinct screamed at you to dodge, but before you could even flinch—

The ground split open.

From the pavement beneath your feet a mass of glowing technicolor tendrils erupted—flickering and glitching like a broken screen.

They shot forward, lashing through the air with impossible speed, grabbing one of the demons mid-leap.

A choked gasp.

A wet, sickening rip.

The goon split apart; torn in half like he was made of paper, limbs flung to the ground in uneven pieces. Blood—dark and thick—splattered onto the pavement, sizzling against the heat.

Silence.

Your breath hitched as a sudden spike of ice-cold shock crawled up your spine.

'What the fuck was that?!'

You hadn’t moved. You hadn’t done anything. Yet the thing—those tendrils had responded...to you. Your hands trembled for half a second when it clicked causing your lips to curl into a smirk. Yes, it's true you hadn’t done that on purpose.

But you sure as hell weren’t about to admit that.

Flicking imaginary dust from your sleeve, you sighed dramatically. "Whoops. Looks like I do have power here after all. Tsk. And here I was hoping we could be civil."

One of the goons glanced at the still-twitching remains of his comrade. His claws flexed as uncertainty began to bleed into his soulless eyes.

Good.

You wanted them nervous.

Across from you Vox had stiffened.

You noticed the way his form falter, the faintest distortion in his glow—the first sign of something resembling hesitation.

That made you grin.

"What’s wrong old man?" you purred, stepping forward, your tendrils pulsing with a sickly glow around you. "Didn’t think I’d put up a fight?"

A sharp burst of static cut through the air, the pixels on Vox's screen distorting wildly before stabilizing. His red eyes burned brighter as he snarled.

"Kill that bitch!"

The remaining goons paused for half a second—then rushed you.

This time you didn’t wait. Something in your blood snapped and the tendrils moved. Like snakes they twisted through the air eeriely. They tore through flesh like it was nothing.

One of the demons barely had time to scream before he was skewered, his body hoisted into the air, his limbs thrashing wildly as the tendrils twisted and ripped him apart.

Blood splattered across your face.

The others didn’t even have time to run.

A tendril shot forward and wrapped around a demon’s neck—tightening, lifting them effortlessly off the ground before snapping. Another shot forward like a bullet, piercing straight through a demon’s chest leaving a gaping hole left in their torso as they collapsed lifeless.

Faster...

Every move was precise.

Faster....

Clean. Efficient.

Faster....

It was like you had done this before. Like this was natural. In mere minutes it was over.

You let out a low whistle. "Huh. That was easier than I thought."

The bodies dropped, the blood pooled. And only one remained:

Vox.

Your tendrils slithered forward, curling around his limbs, binding him in place.

But they didn’t attack.

They simply held him. Firm. Unmoving. A silent display of dominance.

Vox was still. His claws twitched but he didn’t move.

You smirked, stepping closer. "Aww," you cooed with mock-sympathy dripping from every syllable. "What’s the matter VCR? Cat got your tongue? I thought you ran this place."

A snarl ripped from his throat, his neon glow flaring with a sharp burst of static. "It’s Vox you insufferable brat!" he snapped, his already layered voice distortion from anger.

You tilted your head slightly with twinkling eyes. "Uh-huh. Sure, Video Cassette Recorder."

His claws flexed. The tension in his body was visible, his expression twisting into something sharp and furious.

And you?

You ate it up.

Your smirk stretched into something sharper. A tendril slithered up, curling delicately around his top hat. And with a quick flick—

You plucked it off his head.

Vox’s static screeched.

You twirled the hat between your fingers, adjusting it neatly on your own head before opening your arms wide with a dramatic flourish.

"I think I like this look," you mused, lips curling. "Very showman."

A pause.

"Or in my case—" You tipped the hat slightly. "Showwoman."

Vox’s glare was murderous.

Never had he been humiliated by the likes of someone like you before. Oh how he wanted to kill you.

And even worse?

Sinners had started gathering; from the alleys, buildings, and shadows—bystanders who had been watching it all in silence.

Some were even pulling out their phones to record the spectacle.

You beamed and struck a pose. "Go ahead and tag me! @Real___! Let’s make this go viral yeah?"

The crowd—because oh yeah, there was totally a crowd now—erupted in whispers.

You beamed.

Vox seethed.

"Just you wait," he growled through gritted teeth. "When I get my hands on you—"

Your brow raised. Your tendrils tightened ever so slightly. He lets out a glitching choke and immediately shuts up.

"Better," you coo. With exaggerated movements you began to sit down. Your tendrils shift beneath you, morphing into a throne-like seat, curling comfortably around your form.

"Now," Crossing one leg over the other with a pleasant smile, your elbows rest against the armrests as you leaned in slightly, voice mockingly sweet. "Be a dear and tell me everything I need to know about Hell."

[whitrcbbit]

SHIFTING ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ DIARIES #1 𝗯𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗰𝗯𝗯𝗶𝘁

maybe it will sound stupid or obvious for y'all but yesterday after 5+ years of trying to shift i realised what i was doing wrong. the whole time i was trying to do what is done. look at it that way: we all know that shifting is possible because there are infinite amount of realities and what comes with that there are infinite versions of yourself that already ARE in those realities. the whole 'shifting' thing is bullshit. wdym you think you can travel the multiverse when you are already there. that famous actress, that demigod, that witch IS you. it's not your 'drself', there is no such thing as that. YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU. that's you in that place. so don't try to shift and i mean it. you are already there so what stops you from going to sleep and just waking up in camp half-blood, hogwarts or in nyc? nothing. you lay in bed, search for symptoms and why? for what? you cannot shift simply because you did that in the moment you decided that you'll do it.

© whitrcbbit 2025. all rights reserved.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ we'll never be equal .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Jamil Viper x rich gn! reader

𓏵 589 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, no pronouns used, unestablished relationship with reader, angst, hurt/no comfort, light swearing (there's like one swear word) (-"-;)

feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Jamil knows he shouldn’t resent you.

It isn’t your fault that you were born into wealth. That your life was easy. That you never had to fight, scrape, and claw your way toward even the smallest freedoms. He knows it’s irrational—knows it in the way he knows how to force a polite smile, how to school his features into something unreadable.

And yet, every time he looks at you, something inside him twists painfully.

Because you will never understand. Not truly.

It starts with something simple. A party. Another one of those extravagant, glittering events meant for people like you. Meant for people born into gold-lined cradles, into families who never had to kneel before anyone.

You invite him. Of course you do. Jamil doesn’t think twice before declining.

“You never want to go anywhere with me,” you say, frowning.

He knows you’re trying not to sound upset, but there’s that tone in your voice—one that makes his teeth clench.

You don’t get it. You never get it.

It’s not just a party to him. It’s a reminder. A reminder that he doesn’t belong, that he’ll always be the one lingering on the edges of a world he was never meant to step foot in. That no matter how much you claim to love him, you will never truly see him as anything other than someone below you.

He gives you a carefully neutral look. “I’m busy.”

You scoff. “Jamil, you always say that.”

“I always am.”

“You work too much. You don’t have to—”

And there it is.

That naive, well-meaning ignorance.

His patience snaps. “Yes, I do.”

Your brows furrow. “No, you don’t. You’re not—”

Not just a servant. That’s what you want to say. Not only Kalim’s babysitter.

He laughs—sharp, humorless. “Don’t act like you get it.”

“I’m just saying you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” you say, defensive now. “I don’t understand why you—”

“Of course, you don’t understand.” His voice is colder than he intends, but he’s past caring. “You’ve never had to.”

You reel back, looking genuinely caught off guard. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

A pause.

“Jamil…” You reach for him, but he steps away. “That’s not how I see you. I don’t—”

He cuts you off before you can say something unbearably naive. Before you can say I don’t see class, I just see you.

Because that’s bullshit.

It doesn’t matter how much you claim otherwise. There’s a fundamental gap between you—one that can’t be crossed with good intentions and sweet words.

Because at the end of the day, you will look at him differently. Even if you don’t mean to.

Even if you love him.

Later that night, Jamil lies awake, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion weighing heavily on his body.

Your words echo in his head.

"That’s not how I see you."

He wants to believe you. Maybe some part of him does.

But he’s spent too long being less than. Too long being second place.

And love doesn’t change reality.

It doesn’t erase the years he spent bending over backward for a future that was never his to claim. It doesn’t erase the way his hands still move with the efficiency of someone raised to serve. It doesn’t erase the instinct to bow his head, to anticipate the needs of others before his own.

It doesn’t erase the bitter truth:

You were born to have the world handed to you.

He was born to carry it.

And that is something no amount of love can fix.

[practical-hearthcraft]

As someone who has existed within varying degrees of the homemaking community online for several years, I have my hills I am willing to die on. The most important one being this:

Skillsets are not gendered. Domestic skills are invalable lifeskills and everyone should know the basics.

I don't give a shit what your pastor tells you on Sundays, everyone should know how to cook, clean etc. It's no one person's place to be at home, and certainly not due to something as arbitrary as gender.

This past weekend I woke up horribly ill with a sinus infection. Woke up early anyways and went through the motions of getting my daughter up for the day, despite having been unable to sleep through due to fever. The routine is that my husband gets a lie in on Saturday and I lile in on Sunday. Fine. As soon as my husband comes downstairs and sees the state I'm in, I get sent straight back to bed with a cup of tea and medicine, and he tells me he's got it, I just need to rest. Without me needing to check him, remind him or ask him to do anything specifically, he knew exactly which chores needed to be covered for the weekend, got it all done, and didn't have to ask me once for any clarification. This included ensuring my daughters school uniform was cleaned and ironed ahead of monday, taking her into town to buy new clothes post growth-spurt, baking some sandwich loaves for the week ahead. He cooked dinner on Saturday using leftovers I'd put aside for that reason, without needing to check in as he knows the system. He cooked again on Sunday, and specifcally cooked something he knew would create plenty of leftovers, so I wouldn't need to cook again for a few days while I recover. All of this, he knew how to do, and did without complaint, despite us existing in, what is at surface level, a "traditional marriage".

And by the way, nothing my husband did this weekend was a surprise to me. At no point did I think this was a pleasant thing for him to do, and aren't I so lucky? Of course I expect him to know how to keep our household running for a weekend when I'm sick. The man is nearly 40. I should bloody hope he knows how to do laundry and cook a full meal.

If you want to do the majority of domestic tasks in your household, go for it, knock yourself out. But you need to ensure your partner knows how to do it as well. Don't allow yourself to enforce bullshit patriarchal nonsense and exist as a glorified bangmaid.

If you're on the other side of things and you find yourself doing the minority of domestic tasks, why not see how you can develop those skills? Maybe see if you can allocate one night a week where your partner gets the evening off, and you commit to cooking dinner. Maybe ask them to write down their routines so if for whatever reason they're unable to do their regular tasks, you can support them and pick up where they've had to stop.

[blueberry016]

I took computers as an elective back in 8th grade specifically because I figured it'd be a more involved elective than my old school's elementary computer class. Nope; it was just as easy; and I was spending the good majority of my hours there doing fuck all because I finished early. Now; this class was hosted using Google Classroom; which also let me check in and do assignments earlier than intended. And me; being a kid who was tempted by the forbidden fruit of getting through a class months earlier than intended - went for it, and started doing assignments meant for the week ahead in one sitting. Fast forward to halfway through the class. I am months ahead of everybody else; but I've yet to complete the class as a whole for some reason. I go to check why; and what I see's fuckin' absurd. The assignment? To change my profile picture. One of the first assignments ever handed out in class; and one I knocked out immediately, or so I figured. Turns out; no. The teacher SPECIFICALLY noted that the change wasn't valid because I didn't run the image through the specific filter website she wanted us to use before uploading it.

Now; to any teenager or adult who knows their goddamn worth in their field: that reasoning reeks of bullshit. But I comply; begrudgingly, running it through the website and uploading it. The teacher still refuses to mark the assignment as done; after a few day's work. It's at this point I realized I was being deliberately neutered; in hindsight to not threaten the school's metrics. And I; being the shithead child I was - decided there was only one logical solution. Confront her over it in the middle of class. She doubled down; claiming the assignment somehow still wasn't valid; and I just fuckin'. Snapped; then and there; done with her bullshit. Five words came out of my mouth. "I wish I could slap you." As you can imagine; administration quickly got involved with her screeching about this. I was threatened with suspension; I THINK expulsion was tossed around once; while my mom scrambled to pick up the pieces of what the hell everything was about. Once she heard my side of things; though; it was very clear she knew the school was high on their own supply as well. Luckily for my dumbass; there was a bit of a "smoking gun" that made them shrivel up and backpeddle on making me out as a pariah. The communication about refusing to grade the one assignment was one thing; but what the district had a harder time weaseling out of was direct confirmation over email that this teacher went out of her way to ignore my IEP; which she was directly informed of. Rest of that semester I didn't have a class for that hour; and administration very clearly wanted me anywhere but the hallway she was in. Bonus: The middle child; my little brother; hit middle school a few years ago. Someone who either was ignorant of all of this or just didn't care decided to throw him into this teacher's homeroom class, which prompted my mom to pull rank with the admin again to switch things up to prevent any retaliatory funny business. She was not punished for any of this; best as we can tell.

when i was a kid i got a 90% on my kindergarten "what are your favorite things?" test because for the question "what is your favorite animal?" i wrote down "puma" and it got marked wrong because my teacher said a puma isnt even an animal its a kind of shoe

[gothamite-rambler]

Cutting to the chase

This is when Bruce had a fifteen year old Tim Drake as his Robin and a what if because for me I've never liked this ship. Fictional characters or not this one is gross to me and super force. At least Dick and Babs was slightly wholesome to me.

Jim: All right, so I’d start in Bowery, then work my way around there. You look ridiculous. By the way, did you ever have sex with my daughter?

Batman (delayed shock): Right... what?

Robin!Tim (flipping through the case file folder): He said we should start at Bowery and work around. Something about your suit, then he asked if you violated his daughter.

Jim: That’s why I like him; he’s good at repeating and remembering information. So, did you ever violate my daughter? Good phrase to use.

Robin!Tim: I thought it would fit. Thanks.

Batman (clearly unsure how to react): You’re asking me if I ever had sexual relations with Batgirl?

Robin!Tim (sarcastically): Good defense, use the actual lie Bill Clinton said. Makes you look less suspicious.

Batman: I didn’t… I wouldn’t… We never did any of that! I thought we were friends, you asshole! Why would I ever have sex with her? She’s practically the same age as my kids!

Robin!Tim: I mean, outside of this, you do present yourself as a bit of a playboy.

Batman (turning Tim around): Could you read the damn folder over there?

Tim shrugged and walked off, humming a jazz tune, clearly enjoying his time researching a kidnapping case. Batman groaned, covering his eyes in frustration.

Batman: I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I swear to you, I’ve never done anything with her.

Jim (crossing his arms): Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?

Batman (flatly): Those are bullshit and you know it. You can trust me.

Jim: Ever kissed her?

Batman (grossed out): No.

Jim: Had a hug that lasted too long?

Batman: I don’t even hug actual girlfriends for too long, but no, we've hugged like five times and it was quick and platonic.

Jim: Ever had sex with her on a roof?

Batman: That was with Catwoman, and she swore to keep that secret!

Jim: I… didn’t need to know that.

Batman: The point is, I haven’t had sex with Batgirl or viewed her as some kind of sexual prospect. And I saw what you were doing with how you asked the questions to force some confession out of me, but once again Batgirl is my friend. Why is it so difficult for people to accept a man and woman can be friends?

Jim and Barbara (in unison with her voice coming through the comm device): Because we know you.

Batman: I’m into many weird kinks, yes I have had relationships that some would label strange-

Robin!Tim (from far away): He's talking about Talia, Selina, Jillian Maxwell, Phantasm-

Batman (shouting, turning to his sidekick): READ THE CASE FILE!

Jim tilted his head, chuckling at his friends reaction and beginning to be reassured he hadn't slept with his daughter.

Batman (turning back to Jim): I’m genuinely pissed off that you’d think I’d do something so… reprehensible. She’s not just my friend, she’s like a daughter to me.

Barbara (over the comms): Aww, that’s so sweet.

Batman (pressing his comm to yell at her): What did you tell him? Why would you tell him that? I thought we were friends! Why is everyone being mean to me?!

Barbara: Relax, I’ve actually been denying all of that. He said he was going to ask, though. Just be glad I talked him out of bringing a gun.

Batman (to Jim, hurt): You were actually going to shoot me?

Jim (nonchalant): Oh yeah, just in the upper thigh, between your legs. You would’ve lived. I can be overprotective at times, but a man who's only a few years younger than me… having sex with my daughter would have set me off. Not gonna lie.

Batman: Okay… oddly enough, I respect that. Thank you for asking instead of shooting me. Do you believe me now?

Jim: I do. Plus, your reaction was hilarious. For a stoic guy, when you snap like that, it’s funny. That’s why I’m glad we’re friends.

Barbara: Aww!

Batman (closing his eyes and holding his head down): I have weird friendships, but thanks, Jim.

[epickiya722]

I love Bakugou with all my heart. He's one of my favourite characters. But it's always kind of hard to interact with a lot of his stans because of how overly protective they are of him, to the point where they mischaracterize or slander other characters when they dont do something in favour of bakugou. They act like hes a baby at times. Ofc not all of them are like that, butbits always the vocal ones that stand out and theyre many.

Unpopular opinion but I also dislike the "bakugou is a damsel in distress" thing they say, mainly the dk//bks. Cause that title should be given to no one, they're all bamfs.

The release of 431 basically had half the bakugou fandom burying Midoriya alive and even saying things like how Bakugou should start hating on Midoriya. Or that bakugou should have died so that Midoriya can live a life of suffering. Acting like Horikoshi did Bakugou a disservice when imo Bakugou had the kindest, most well written character development given to him.

To be completely blunt, in all my years of being in this fandom I've never encountered such a rabid group of people who will literally shit their pants because other characters or the author (in the final chapter) weren't kissing their ass for more than 2 minutes.

I do feel you on that, Anon.

I said it before, Bakugou is my guy, my boom boom boy. I like him as I do many other characters in the series. He has a good storyline, he is a great character on his own.

And that what infuriates me about some other Bakugou fans.

He is already such a good character, so why is there a need, a must, an urge to bash and mischaracterize other characters just to put him down?

Part of what I'm going to say is my bias because you all know Midoriya is my favorite tied with Miruko, but the other part of me is someone coming from a Bakugou fan standpoint. And you know what, feel free to be mad at me, but I just can't anymore!

The fandom over the past year or so has done nothing but disappoint me. Truly and at this point, I feel like I have to let out everything.

A lot of the reactions I saw towards Midoriya in the epilogue was absolue bullshit.

"He should give Bakugou back the suit!"

"How dare he turn down Bakugou!"

Bakugou was not the only fucking person who put in on helping with that suit and he damn sure wasn't the only person who saw Midoriya as the hero he is. Midoriya does not owe Bakugou any, let alone be an EMPLOYEE at his agency.

Like, damn, can he actually get used to some Pro Hero work in before he makes such decisions?

And I'll be honest, him not working at agency actually gave me joy. I actually like that idea. It reminds me of Miruko.

Him being a solo type hero allows Midoriya to be flexible with his routine. I guess they forgot he is a teacher. They must not have realized that Midoriya can and will fight by Bakugou's side in the field. Who said they needed a fucking agency to do all of that?

In fact, them being separated and not working at the same place would allow them to be more happy to see each since it's like "I didn't get to see you all day! I've been waiting to lay my eyes on you, I was counting the seconds till we meet again". I like that scenario, can we jump on that?

Like, what if Midoriya said no because he felt like Bakugou had done enough for him? Huh? How would he know Bakugou would want him at the agency and why even spring that on him being so cryptic about it in front of Kirishima? Sorry but Bakugou went about it the wrong way.

Midoriya can be oblivious but he's also not a mind reader. And sometimes, Bakugou is not that transparent, let alone someone who is right all the time himself.

I feel like that a lot of the fandom just wanted Bakugou to tie Midoriya down. Want him to own Midoriya like he's some fucking pet.

I thought they were supposed to be equals, but clearly I was lied to!

Like, when I say I was so disappointed in some fellow BakuDeku shippers, I was probably beyond disappointment. I couldn't follow anymore of some of the blogs because of the things they were saying.

I know Bakugou's hair is golden, but he is not some golden child. He is not some fragile little baby that some of the fandom treats him as such while also thinking he's so perfect.

They're doing exactly what lead to his terrible behavior in the first place, now that I'm thinking about it! Oh, I thought we were supposed to learn from that, HELLO?!

He is not perfect. That's what makes him a great character. A character with flaws makes for an entertaining one, but in this case, not for Bakugou! How I cannot believe!

That's why I also enjoy Midoriya. He has flaws, but the bad thing is how most of the fandom amped them up to 100 to make him seem more terrible.

I really hate how some of those same Bakugou and BakuDeku shippers reduce Midoriya into someone who can't do everything right, or he was like vindictive in the epilogue.

Like, some of you was so quick to say that the epilogue was so out of character, so why even go along with the notion that "Midoriya doesn't care about Bakugou, he betrayed Bakugou"?

Easy, because you don't care about Midoriya which is absurd to me given that if you're a Bakugou fan, Midoriya is the last character you should be hating on. Bakugou would hate you for hating Midoriya.

(Getting flashbacks to that one post about how the OP was mad at Midoriya for making Bakugou cry because he didn't tell him about OFA... in season one... WHAT?!)

I'm jumping on that unpopular opinion with you because my gosh. "I hate it when Midoriya is the damsel in Tddk fics and Bakugou is the bad guy".

I see why, but then why turn around and treat Bakugou like he's a damsel? To give more Midoriya stress? I'm all for angst, but I do feel like some people just want Midoriya to suffer like "see how you didn't appreciate Bakugou enough" and out of some hate agenda.

Listen, I know the pair are like the "don't separate at all costs" type, but again, it should be equal.

Yes, they care deeply about each other. But they're still their own separate characters.

Flaws Horikoshi's writing may have, but it damn sure ain't that flawed to not make sense of some of these characters.

I'm sorry (not really), but I feel like that some truly don't get Midoriya at all and don't want to take the time out to understand him. An injustice really to being a BakuDeku shipper. You won't see the harmony within that ship.

[lady-of-sevenwaters]

Ever since I first read the series my biggest bone to pick with SJM’s bullshit lore was the “magic chooses the High Lord, and it has never chosen a female” thing.

We all know SJM has no worldbuilding skills, and there are hundreds of things in ACOTAR that piss me off when it comes to this, but none more than the “no High Ladies” shit.

I’m well aware of her reasons to do this: make RhySAnd a fEMiNisT mALe who gifted Feyre the title of High Lady, while simultaneously shitting on Tamlin for being a misogynistic asshole (even though he just stated a plain fact). But since SJM doesn’t understand shit about female empowerment the title falls flat and Feyre is only High Lady of her own delusions.

But my problem isn’t even Feysand’s stupidity, but the choice itself to have the magic choose only males. Like, why??

All she did was present the males in Prythian with a godly reason as to why females should be considered inferior.

IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE I HATE IT SO MUCH, why would magic, instead of simply choosing the most powerful fae, or the one with the most meaningful connection to their Court, arbitrarily decide that females are unfit to rule?? No female was worthy?? For fifteen thousand years??

In the end magic isn’t an impartial force that respects only strength, power and whatnot, noooooo, magic is bigoted. (I hate it here guys)

All this stupid-ass writing choice did was gift males the divine right to rule, in a place that worships a feminine entity, at that. If she wanted gender bias it would make more sense for only females to be chosen, since they believe all magic comes from the Mother.

SJM missed the opportunity to make the High Lord/Lady position a lot more meaningful one. There could have been historical references to High Ladies facing prejudice and improving the lives of females. Maybe even High Lords that feared their daughters and sisters if they became too powerful and executed them, or formed the precedent of marrying them off to different Courts, as to weaken their bond with the land…

We could have gotten some really good lore if the writer of this series wasn’t SJM, that’s what I’m saying.

[uncleasriel]

I think this illustrates something about the reactionary mind.

The underlying macho bullshit of that old stupid canard about "Hard Men make Good Time, Good Times make Soft Men, Soft Men make Bad Times, Bad Times make Hard Men" is at play here: the assumption is that being able care about your gender or race or disability or class or any other intersectional trait is just something only Decadent Soft People think about because they're too idle and not doing the work of Real People (tm) like backbreaking manual labour or soldiering or other from of Being Professionally Manly And Tough.

In addition to this premise being utterly ahistorical dogshit (too often used by militarist, authoritarian and fascistic pigfuckers to rationalize why they need to take control to make us big and tough again), it's also pathetically oversimplified and fucking factually incorrect. Crossdressing and drag performances were popular among World War 2 troops, and you'd be a fool to consider that this didn't have an impact on folks coming out. Even those that remained closeted were still able to serve defending their country (and all which that entails), and were defended by their comrades when petty bureaucrats tried to use edge-case bullshit to try and deny them what they were owed as veterans.

I pick out the gender stuff because it's the one that most readily pisses off the C.H.U.D.s (don't get girly gay things all over my fantasies!) but things like disability or race or class also factor in just as much. The 1944 Disability Employment Act in Britain was born out of similar conditions, as those getting bodily mutilated in the war were no longer able to serve in the front lines but still could pursue work that could aid in the war effort.

I frame so much of this through 20th century military history because that is what has defined the shape of so much of our adventure fiction, even 80 years after the fact. World War 2 adventure fiction, pulp adventure novels, historical fiction (I'm looking at Robert E. Howard in particular here)... all of it trickles down into the Fantasy Genre as we know it today, especially in the foundational bones of Magic: the Gathering. A lot of the imitators of those works have emerged over the years, and many of them carry on the same thematic assumptions of the genre that thanosisking unwittingly raises in their initial question: why would women/blacks/gays/cripples/etc even fit into those worlds, they're not there in the source material!?

I believe this is just a by-product of folks like OP who don't look at the source fiction and history underlying it in any more than a cursory way. For folks with limited understandings the topic, including themes the ones discussed seem forced. I would encourage these folks to read some Imaro stories or a Jirel of Jhoiry tale - there's a lot more to the genre that actively explores all manner of odd or atypical stories than just the derivatives that have trickled through the corporate publishing houses of the 1990s and onward. I strongly suggest they subscribe to Strange Studies of Strange Stories, and its predecessor H.P. Podcraft - the Weird Tale has a dozen of literary descendants, and they have a much richer history than folks know.

It's fair to quibble about how well some writers handle these themes - folks inexperienced with understanding intersectional matters can be clumsy, and the fact that writing for a corporate entity owned by Hasbro (which has to toe a very particular line called "don't do things that will make shareholders uncomfortable.") But simply barking "there's Forced Woke Diversity In My Wizard Card Game" is the bleating of a black sheep who is best ignored.

With all of the threats to the worlds like Tarkir or Mirrodin or the War of the Spark, wouldn't it be prudent to NOT include anything about race/gender/identity? Nobody was worried about their own gender during WWII because they were worried about survival. I feel it cheapens the threats that characters like Bolas or the Eldrazi present when you stick identity politics like Daretti or Ashiok because those characters seem more occupied with identity than with saving the day.

If you think no one was worried about their gender in World War II, that simply means you’re unaware of history. People will literally put in concentration camps and killed because of it.