#actively hypocritical? check!

[caeslxys]

I’ve mentioned this elsewhere but it feels relevant again in light of the most recent episode. Something that’s really fascinating to me about Orym’s grief in comparison to the rest of the hells’ grief is that his is the youngest/most fresh and because of that tends to be the most volatile when it is triggered (aside from FCG, who was two and obviously The Most volatile when triggered.)

As in: prior to the attack on Zephrah, Orym was leading a normal, happy, casual life! with family who loved him and still do! Grief was something that was inflicted upon him via Ludinus’ machinations, whereas with characters like Imogen or Ashton, grief has been the background tapestry of their entire lives. And I think that shows in how the rest of them are largely able to, if not see past completely (Imogen/Laudna/Chetney) then at least temper/direct their vitriol or grief (Ashton/Fearne/Chetney again) to where it is most effective. (There is a glaring reason, for example, that Imogen scolded Orym for the way he reacted to Liliana and not Ashton. Because Ashton’s anger was directed in a way that was ultimately protective of Imogen—most effective—and Orym’s was founded solely in his personal grief.)

He wants Imogen to have her mom and he wants Lilliana to be salvageable for Imogen because he loves Imogen. But his love for the people in his present actively and consistently tend to conflict with the love he has for the people in his past. They are in a constant battle and Orym—he cannot fathom losing either of them.

(Or, to that point, recognize that allowing empathy to take root in him for the enemy isn't losing one of them.)

It is deeply poignant, then, that Orym’s grief is symbolized by both a sword and shield. It is something he wields as a blade when he feels his philosophy being threatened by certain conversational threads (as he believes it is one of the only things he has left of Will and Derrig, and is therefore desperately clinging onto with both bloody hands even if it makes him, occasionally, a hypocrite), but also something he can use in defense of the people he presently loves—if that provocative, blade-grief side of him does not push them—or himself—away first.

(it won’t—he is as loved by the hells as he loves them. he just needs to—as laudna so beautifully said—say and hear it more often.)

[rxkuyo]

"Ahaha Daemon is so dumb for believing the old man is the one actively poisoning him when the weird goth witch giving him weird concoctions is right there."

May I introduce you to a beautiful concept known as sleep deprivation ? Man's only gotten poor quality sleep (if any at all) for weeks for all we know. Mood swings and paranoia are bound to go hand in hand with that one. Logical thinking ? Nope. Not happening. You add the fucking hallucinations further messing up his mind to the mix and you get exactly what we see.

[allycat75]

I would like to respond to an Anon from a blocked account...

All of this! The Dumb Fuck from Boston makes himself look like a racist prick and using the word "purist" when referring to his Christmas traditions is not only incredibly Xenophobic, continuing the narrative of him being the ugliest of ugly Americans, but just plain selfish as a partner and as a person. It is his world and we just live in it.

The man shoves his foot so far down his throat he should ask his Nazi wifey for techniques on how not to gag and choke himself to death. It's not charming or cute. It is offensive and embarrasing, especially for a 44 year old man who supposedly runs an "award" winning political website.

And since he seems to know almost nothing about Portugal*, despite name checking it to a pathological level, here is a bit of trivia he should know if he still wants to continue to reference "purity". It could be the "final solution" to his to his pathetic career and personal life, and make the tough decision he is too chicken shit to make for his own life (BTW, anyone hear from Jonah Hill lately?).

*There are so many incredible things about Portugal, but highlighting this information only to show the ridiculousness of this privleged white boy and the racist, arrogant dumb-dumb he is stuck with.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Even if someone HATES wearing like, any mask, you’ve gotta admit. Nice thicker fabric ones are great in winter. A mask, hat, and scarf are way more comfortable going to the store than either a naked face or a balaclava. If nothing else then you have to admit that it’s less awkward and stifling in public (you can take off the scarf and or hat and be less hot! Not the entire fucking thing! And if you’ve got a lot of hair, like me, you can let that do whatever) and way warmer than nothing. Even if you hate everyone else and don’t believe in covid, it feels way better than nothing when it’s-20 degrees Fahrenheit and windy outside! Especially in dry cold!

[dollyichi]

IN-STORE EXCLUSIVE

katsuki bakugou x f ! reader ᯓ★ 1.7k words. fluff / both are pro-heroes / maybe a little ooc but idc / no established relationship, he likes you though / hints on mutual feelings / not proofread

you catch him buying your merch during a morning patrol.

katsuki’s currently getting ready for the day. it’s his day off and could’ve chosen stayed in as usual, but he had an agenda. he’s already thinking of it while he’s tying his shoes, how he could approach it the best he can. well, maybe a bit too seriously.

he thinks it’s stupid but he’s been wanting to visit this new merch store in the city that opened the other day. he missed the big opening, which was fine—better not to get ‘caught’ and bring any attention to him, especially not when midoriya’s the main guest for the opening promotions. he doesn’t want midoriya to run his mouth in front of everybody.

it’s still early morning, and he hopes not a lot of people were in the area, assuming most of them are busy or on the way to work, so their routes should be different from the one he’ll take. he even made sure to check who’s patrolling. it’s just todoroki today, so he didn’t mind. it’s a secluded area, having to pass an alley to enter the store’s street no one should be there anymore since most exclusives for the grand opening should be sold out.

with a huff, he locks the front door and makes his way to the shop. pushing down his cap further. kids were able to recognize him though, giving him a wave while their parents apologized. “i’m on a secret mission kid.” he says as a joke and they nod in enthusiasm, happy to see a hero at work. “pfft.” he laughs to himself when the kid salutes him and goes back to his mother.

once he gets to the store, he’s scanning the area, only a few people were inside. it’s pretty big, seeing how there were also other merch aside from the heroes section.

the staff greets him a good morning from the counter and he gives him a nod. he checks his face if he remembered to put his face mask on. he sighs in relief feeling the cloth on his mouth and goes to the heroes aisle—he looks like a creep the staff doing rounds almost wanted to kick him out.

“lots of me in here.” he mumbles to himself.

he thinks it’s crazy how high the prices were for a figurine of him (the manufacturers usually gives it to him for free). he looks around, cringing when he sees midoriya and todoroki’s section. “shit’s not even worth the damn thing.” he thinks, but then again, he’s a dumb hypocrite.

it’s already a pain to even get to the store. he could’ve ordered anything he wanted to online but this line of collectibles were in-store exclusive and it just happened to be in this store which was a relief. he really would’ve drove to a different city just for it—though, it was also dangerous if someone catches him. he could’ve asked anyone to buy for him too, even thought of todoroki to purchase for him but that man doesn’t have the same shame he would have if he gets seen. plus he didn’t like the idea of a dating rumor of you and todoroki if he’s seen with the merchandise.

he was only supposed to buy one figurine, but ends up buying a few more, pin buttons and one big plushie that he finds really cute of you. he chuckles to himself when it got that ‘same dumb smile’ you always have on your face—the one that causes his heart to skip a beat, even when he didn’t want it to.

this all started when midoriya found out about his little crush when katsuki got into an accident with a victim they saved. it was a big mission where several individuals in the area went missing, turns out a whole gang was using them for blackmail and ransom. every hero in the area, including you, were tracking every villain involved in this case.

a little girl in hostage activated her ‘truth quirk’ when she clung onto the blonde. midoriya was asking him what he’s thinking of—he meant what to do with the villains—instead, katsuki said, “i think y/n’s really pretty tonight.” and he slaps his mouth, he didn’t mean to say that.

apparently the kid’s quirk manages to bring out the deep inner thoughts of the person they used their ability on. “t-that’s n-nice kac- dynamight but i’m asking about the villain… hehe.”

the quirk lasted the whole night and he made sure to keep him mouth shut, having midoriya talk for him instead for their initial report. because when he answered another question from the green haired hero the only thing that ever left his mouth was about you. how he wished he was doing this mission with you instead, or about how many people you saved that night.

eventually midoriya gives him a TCG of you and while he wanted to act like he didn’t want it, it sent shivers down his spine thinking midoriya would have a photo of you, so he takes it (keeps it in his wallet too).

then he got even more invested when he saw collectors online, showing off their ‘rare y/n merchandise’ which got him seething too. he’s not gonna lose, not at all.

which brings him here.

he heads over to the counter with his head down. the staff notices the pink hue on the tips of his fingers and laughs (pissed katsuki real bad). “you like her too huh? i think she could definitely be a top 5 hero soon.” they say. katsuki doesn’t respond instead waits for his total and pays with his card. “fucking nerd shouldn’t talk about her at all.” he thinks. in fact, he thinks your ‘weird fans’ shouldn’t even breathe the same air as you. treating you like some idol, it’s fucking gross.

“have a great day sir!” he takes a breather when he gets out the store. a paper bag in one hand, and the plushie around his arm. he thinks he looks pathetic right now but it’s not like anyone would notice him if he gets home quick, right?

he walks fast but not too much to get him any unwanted attention. taking the same route home quietly and fast.

though he stops in his tracks before even exiting the alley, seeing todoroki waving to him. “you have y/n’s merch?”

katsuki takes off his mask, “mind your business half n’ half bastard.” and walks away flipping him off. it’s fine, it didn’t bother him too much if todoroki were to see anyway.

however, the icy-hot hero was just about to warn him what’s up ahead but it was too late, katsuki’s already gone.

he could’ve hit a perfect home run until he’s stopped on the sidewalk by someone he definitely didn’t want to see right now.

“katsuki?” he internally panics when he hears you. too in shock he looks up from the ground, flashing you his eyes. he blinks and immediately ignores you by walking away, tucking the plushie in his jacket. yet you follow him, already floating to his side with a curious smile. “just what is it with this area suddenly?” he’s mentally screaming right now.

you knew those pair of eyes anywhere no matter how much he tried to cover it. “you’re on patrol right now, huh?” he says with a low voice.

“yup with shou! did you see him? he went first before i did.” you chirp, “didn’t think i’d see you today with…” you look down to see a bag full of your own merch and your newest plushie’s head peeking out of his jacket, “me?”

katsuki’s face turns red. if it was even possible, smoke would be coming out of his ears since he’s been caught by the worst person—fate is really messing with him today. “i’m buying this for that dumb izuku!” he lies, hoping you’d buy it, but you could only giggle. “really? i don’t think you’d do that for him though?” katsuki curses under his breath.

“look kats i’m real flattered. could i take a picture of you like this?” you clap, floating around him.

“fuck off! don’t push your luck. besides, shouldn’t you be on fucking patrol?” he shakes his head and tries to loose you again, unfortunately for him, you’re quicker.

“mhm! you’re right.” you say, “but i only have a few minutes left before i switch shifts.” he’s not even looking at you. “besides i went extra early for today.” you take a quick glance at what’s inside the bag. “it’s a really good thing i did! real great!” you giggle. katsuki’s really flustered, hoping you’d just go away soon and you’d forget about this in an hour. to add more to his rapidly beating heart, you look so good in your hero costume. the fan in him wanted you to sign the toys he just got—well, as if he’d do that at all, he really planned to take this ‘secret’ to the grave (it’s okay to shoot your shot katsuki!)

he seemed lost in thought, and it was the perfect opportunity for you take your phone out and get a quick picture of him before you fly off. katsuki flinches when he hears the ‘click’ but you’re already so up high, laughing away and he’s screaming a string of curses at you.

he didn’t know who to blame, but he knew he fucked up even more when he gave you that stupid excuse. “what the fuck…” he says through his teeth, rubbing his temples with one hand as he walks back home.

katsuki never feels shame, but there’s always that stupid thing you do to him to feel things he’s never bothered to before—right now it’s embarrassment.

tomorrow was supposed to be his shift to patrol with you. he doesn’t even know how to face you after that. when he gets home he immediately sets it up and lays down on his couch.

after a few hours he gets a text from you. ‘i got one of yours after my shift!’ is what it read and it was a small chibi doll of him. you’re so adorable holding the mini version of him close to your face while you’re in your costume, he couldn’t help but save it.

he thinks, “wait, what does that mean?” does it mean you like him too? what’s even the point of you doing all that for his sake?

he then gets another message from you. a picture of him walking out the alley with a smile, clutching the plushie while todoroki’s looking from behind him. sometimes he really hates your flying abilities even when he thinks it’s the coolest.

“ha… you knew all this. well two can play that game.” as if he could even try to embarrass you after that.

oh whatever. he never loses, right?

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i feel like i keep embarrassing reader in front of kats so it’s payback time :p i didn’t mean for this to be so long omg. MINORS AND AGLESS BLOGS DO NOT FOLLOW ME!

[black--sun]

He pushes out a breath. He cares about them, and he’d do anything for them, except include them in all the shit he has going on. Which he knows worries both of them. “Maybe,” he answers noncommittally. “I’d do anything for you, and that doesn’t mean I won’t sometimes be a bad boyfriend.” Partner. What are they even calling themselves now?

“Why would you be disappointed if you didn’t like me?” But then he gets it a second later, a little delayed. “Oh, because you spent so much on dinner.”

He rests into that touch, finding that he can just walk along with Shiro that way without really having to pay attention to where they’re going. He sets the plate on the host stand as they pass, catching but not caring much about the odd look it earns him. It takes him too long to hash that out. “Gross. I barely like most bodies when they’re warm. I meant the making one part.” That’s fine though. He’s not complaining about skipping it. But he supposes it’s more up to whoever brings them Shiro’s car how the rest of their night is going to go. So he leans closer and slips his hand into Shiro’s back pocket like they’re at the beach instead of a nice restaurant.

Ichigo summarizes the conversation with the point he was evidently trying to make. It’s a nice offer. It’d be touching and maybe a gentle kind of comfort if that’s what Ichigo had started out with. Instead, the entire conversation made it sound like Ichigo thinks Shiro should be on suicide watch. He nods some. “Ok. He doesn’t want to talk about his problems, though, especially not right now. “You’re the first person I’d come to anyway.”

He shrugs. It doesn’t matter to him. “Take credit for the idea and make your sister happy.”

He eyes that smirk, half expecting some sort of indication that Ichigo’s been yanking his chair this whole time, and half expecting more vaguely terrifying questions. But he rolls his eyes and snorts. “What d'you mean? I’m the catch.” Not at all the kind of catch Ichigo means.

After Ichigo takes a bite, he pulls the plate back, but he’s almost too distracted to actually eat his dessert. When Ichigo reaches for the check, he slaps a hand over it and pulls it toward himself instead. “Not a chance, poor college kid.” The slight dig on Ichigo feels extra justified after the track their conversation went down. It’s definitely not a small bill but he knew it wouldn’t be when he picked the place. He counts out actual cash, which probably makes him look like a drug dealer or a prostitute, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t make his money legally and he doesn’t really use a bank.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Headcanon #309

A Sonic-themed café recently opened in Taiwan, and they have cute little designs for the characters! Shadow and Amy both work in the kitchen:

--

Sonic and friends worked at a café for a while. Shadow and Amy were both assigned to the kitchen; with Shadow’s precision with ingredients and procedures and Amy’s experience and leadership, they made a fantastic team. As time went on, Shadow grew fonder of Amy, but he kept his feelings in check.

Or at least he did until the day Amy filled in for Blaze as a server. He stepped in the door for his shift, took one look at her...and immediately dropped his apron on the floor.

As much as Amy loved cooking, she’d been hoping for an opportunity to try waitressing and had prepared a unique outfit for the occasion. Amy wore a cute, black, 1950s-style dress with pink bows and tiny white polka dots. The skirt had enough breathing room to flow when she twirled around, and it was cut just above the knee. She’d tied her quills up in a style reminiscent of Rosie the Riveter to keep them out of her face. Finally, she donned a pair of spiffy red roller skates so she could glide effortlessly around on the tile floors as she took orders.

When Amy saw Shadow, she happily skated over and posed for him with a brilliant smile, saying she’d always loved the aesthetic of the 1940s and 50s and thought he would know better than anyone if she’d gotten it right.

Shadow’s throat went dry.

One of the scientists aboard the ARK had decorated his walls with a collection of pinup posters. Amy’s outfit looked strikingly similar to one of them. It had featured...Rita Hayworth? Betty Grable, maybe...? Whichever one it was, her pose had been far more provocative than Amy’s. Shadow had always found the collection to be tasteless, and the way the scientist talked about the model’s legs was crass and unpleasant. Shadow liked to think he was above such things.

Apparently, though, the game changed when a hedgehog was dressed that way instead, especially his favorite hedgehog.

Shadow gulped loudly and nodded, not trusting his voice. Amy practically jumped for joy and skated off to take more orders.

Cooking was a struggle. Shadow always worked by the gap connecting the kitchen to the dining room, which proved to be a blessing and a curse as Amy slid around the restaurant, elated at the activity and her new outfit. He constantly fumbled with tongs and knives while he shifted ingredients and chopped vegetables, and his healing factor came in handy when he accidentally splashed hot oil on himself. Knuckles kept a suspicious glare on him from the other side of the kitchen, and Silver asked him if he was alright a couple times while preparing drinks.

Whenever Amy popped over to pick up food, she gushed about how much fun it was and how generous customers were with their tips. Shadow privately thought it had less to do with generosity and more to do with Amy’s figure and the flashy getup clinging to it; he’d noticed he wasn’t the only one who was drooling over her.

The rest of his shift passed with disaster after disaster as he couldn’t help but admire the way Amy proudly flitted around, smiling brightly as she showed off the roller skating techniques he’d personally taught her. Knuckles chewed him out for letting himself get distracted, and Shadow couldn’t argue, nor could he stop his gaze from straying back to the cute, cheerful object of his affections.

The manager had planned on putting Amy back on kitchen duty after that day, but as it was now apparent she was their best chef AND their best server, Amy was scheduled to switch off between the two from then on. She was thrilled.

By the end of his shift, Shadow had burned nine meals, and he’d never felt like more of a hypocrite.

[rebelspykatie]

The Gift That Keeps on Giving - Part 2

AO3 | Part 1

minor TW: Cheating (you'll see)

Working out how to tell Eddie they can’t keep this up is harder than it seems. How does he say that he’s too close to falling for him and they should just go back to the beginning and make this a business transaction, or forget Steve even asked? Backing himself out of this corner isn’t easy. He types out so many messages and deletes them, his thumbs hurt. He finally sends something short and to the point. A quick ‘I can’t do this anymore, but thank you for everything.’ 

That’s met with radio silence. He checks the chat later to see that it’s been read, but there’s no response. No little ellipses bubble telling him a reply is forthcoming. No thumbs up or impersonal got it. Just nothing. He goes to their account and sees it’s still actively posting about the tour, so Eddie’s been on and had a chance to reply, but he hasn’t. Before Steve can let that sink in and ruin his day, there’s a knock on his door. 

There’s a courier there, an inconspicuous man that Steve frowns at. He isn’t expecting anything from his father, but he takes the envelope and signs for it. The contents surprise him. The small Stevie written at the top that he runs his fingers over in disbelief. He doesn’t remember telling Eddie his address. Maybe there are perks to having a legal team and record label behind you. It doesn’t really matter how he figured it out. Because out falls two tickets to the Corroded Coffin show in Indy. The show that’s just two days away. 

Eddie followed through on his promise. Steve thought he’d forgotten all about the reason they started talking. He certainly was flirting enough to make Steve forget. There’s the possibility that Steve was reading too much into it. Tone is hard to gauge over text. Eddie’s probably like this with everyone. Playing it up to maintain that rockstar image. It probably didn’t mean anything to him, while Steve’s insides were molten lava every time his phone pinged with a reply from Eddie.

It’s bittersweet to be holding these in his hands after everything that’s happened over the past few weeks. He got what he wanted, but at what cost? The realization that he doesn’t want his boyfriend. He wants Eddie Munson. Who he has no chance in hell with. Does he even deserve to take his boyfriend to this show? Eddie never should’ve sent the tickets after Steve lured him in and ghosted him with a quick message and no further explanation. He should probably tell his boyfriend the truth, hand over the tickets and admit what a failure this relationship has become because of him. All it took was a rockstar paying attention to him to make him stray, so how good of a boyfriend can he be, tickets or no tickets.

Turns out the distance between him and his boyfriend wasn’t one sided. When Steve walks in on him with another man that night, ready to confess and hand over the tickets, it should be more shocking, or at least more devastating. He’s all too aware that the anger he should feel is nonexistent. Steve’s been cheated on before and it’s never a pleasant feeling, but it feels hypocritical to get mad at him, given where Steve’s thoughts and feelings have been over the past few weeks.

Steve heads home with a weight off his chest. Lightest he’s felt since Robin pointed out his honeymoon eyes over Eddie’s messages. There’s not much love lost on this relationship, but he doesn’t know what to do with the tickets now that his boyfriend’s out of the picture. He doesn’t try reaching out to Eddie again, unsure how anything he’ll send would even be received. But he doesn’t want to just let them go to waste, not after everything. 

He winds up dragging Robin to the show. She’s not into this kind of music, and Steve wasn’t either, at first, but Eddie is electrifying when he performs and Steve was drawn in from that first music video and hasn’t stopped listening since. And Robin loves Steve. She’d do anything for him, and he’s never more thankful to have her at his side when he hands over the tickets and they’re ushered backstage. 

There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary on the tickets as far as Steve saw, but something must have tipped the system off that they weren’t run-of-the-mill tickets. Security guards escort them into a tunnel, where they get on a golf cart and get whisked away to an unknown destination. Robin’s whining under her breath that they shouldn’t have come and Steve’s having flashbacks to herding children through the back of the mall when he was slinging ice cream and getting bullied by Nancy's younger brother into free movies for him and his friends. 

The destination turns out to be a suite, or a dressing room of some sort. A door labeled Eddie Munson that sticks out amongst the white painted concrete they’re surrounded by. He’s not sure if they’re under the stage or behind it, but there’s a loud humming sound and bass reverberating in the cavernous hallway. He doesn’t get much time to process his surroundings before the security guard is rapping on the door with a curt Mr. Munson and stepping aside. 

When the door flings open, a man with intentionally windswept hair and tight leather pants greets them. By greets, he stares dumbly at them, slack jawed and eyes on Steve, like he can’t believe they’re real. Steve doesn’t know what to say anymore than it seems Eddie does, with his doe eyes and surprised tilt to his head. After a beat of silence that goes on too long, Robin clears her throat. 

“How drunk was I?” Eddie asks, brows furrowing as he takes in Robin. “I could’ve sworn you said boyfriend.” 

“Ex-boyfriend,” Robin chirps, grinning like a maniac. 

“Do you mean, you were a boy and now you’re a girl?” Eddie leans against the doorframe, perplexed, and Steve is distracted by the way his shirt rides up and reveals a sliver of pale skin to tease him. He can see a santa hat sticking out of the back pocket of his pants.

Robin gags at the thought of being Steve’s partner in anything other than crime. She points at herself, “Robin Buckley, always a girl,” then she points at Steve, “always a dingus,” and sticks out a hand for Eddie to shake. “Platonic lesbian best friend, at your service.” 

“Eddie Munson,” he says, shaking her hand but looking over at Steve, a bemused grin dancing on his lips. “What happened?” 

“You did,” Steve says, a little breathless.

Part 3

[gothcsz]

but what about Javi hearing neighbour reader masturbating and thinking she has a guy over and he gets jealous bc why is she fucking someone and never giving him the time of day???

obsessed with this is an understatement 🤩 part of this building universe right here where you’re javi’s neighbor

Javier stands by his open window, cigarette between his fingers, watching the distant glow of streetlights through the haze of smoke.

The night is quiet, and he’s alone with his thoughts, which is never good—until he hears something faint, muffled, but unmistakable, through the thin wall separating his apartment from yours.

He freezes, brow furrowing, as the soft sound of moans drifts into his room, catching him completely off guard. For a second, he wonders if he’s imagining it. But then, the creak of your bed springs confirms what he’s hearing.

His mind jumps to conclusions, filling in gaps he wishes he could ignore: someone’s in there with you, and you’re not exactly holding back.

A sharp pang of jealousy hits him, twisting like a knife in his chest. Javier takes a slow drag from his cigarette, his jaw set tight. He can’t deny how pretty you sound—soft, breathy, like you’re being taken care of but he knows he could give it to you so much better.

That feeling of admiration is quickly overtaken by irritation. Why does some other motherfucker get to be in there with you? Very hypocritical of him to be feeling like this considering what he gets up to most nights of the week.

You’ve never given him more than polite smiles and your much needed friendship. That’s kept him satiated and content… until feelings for you started to blossom, leaving him in this weird grey area.

He doesn’t want to ruin what he has with you by acting on said feelings. Javi would rather keep nurturing your friendship than mess it all up due to him thinking with his dick.

Now he’s left on the other side of the wall, just a listener to something he wishes he could experience himself.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s snuffing out his cigarette, muttering a Spanish expletive under his breath, and heading for your apartment.

He tells himself it’s nothing, that he’ll just check in, but the jealousy has him moving with more urgency than he’d like to admit. He finds himself knocking firmly, almost demanding an answer.

Inside, you’re right at the precipice, riding the vibrator with a rhythm you’d never dared try before, fingers digging into the sheets as you edge closer and closer. You’re so close to tipping over when there’s a sudden, forceful knock on your door, jolting you out of your trance and yanking you back from the edge of pleasure.

The frustration is immediate, heat turning to annoyance as you climb off the bed, throwing on a robe and hastily tying it around you. Who on earth would be knocking at this hour?

Grumbling under your breath, you stalk toward the door, glancing through the peephole, and the sight stops you cold. Javier. Of course, Javier.

He’s haunted your thoughts all night and the star of the very vivid scenario your horny mind conjured while your arousal coated the silicon of your toy.

Irritation and curiosity mix as you unlock the door and open it, raising an eyebrow as you take him in, his expression unreadable but intense.

“Javi,” you say, voice still breathy from your previous activities. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

He stands there, eyes dark and flickering over your figure, taking in the looseness of your robe, how the soft curve of your breasts tease him, the thin layer of sweat on your skin. “I… heard something.” His voice is low, slightly hoarse, and he doesn’t bother masking the frustration lacing his words. “Just had to check nothing was wrong.”

You feel your cheeks heat as you realize what he’s implying.

“I appreciate the concern but I’m fine.” You tell him, seeing his eyes dip as he takes in your flustered appearance, how they linger on your thighs. You shift beneath his heavy stare.

“If you need help running him off, you come get me—alright?”

Your face contorts into confusion and he catches it immediately.

“The guy in there.”

You should win a fucking award for the way you manage to school your expression, realizing why he’s actually here at your doorstep this late at night.

While it’s a little embarrassing to have someone hearing you please yourself, you feel this twisted satisfaction in your chest knowing Javier is getting a taste of his own medicine.

You’ve had to suffer through so many of his hookups, and the petty side of you takes full advantage of the opportunity to really lean into this.

“That won’t be a problem. He’s staying the night… I should probably get back.”

His jaw twitches but he nods, hands on his hips, clearly not thrilled about your response.

“Right… okay sure…”

You two stand there awkwardly.

“Alright… bye, Javi.”

His scowl deepens and those pouty pink lips of his remain in a downturned pout.

“Bye cariño. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod, slowly closing the door in his face.

He stands there, dumbfounded and drowning in the jealousy he feels that someone else gets to enjoy you in a way he knows he never will.

[cynthiav06]

Do you know something that I find really curious?

Is that in Ancient Greek, Greek Mythology, and Hellenic Polytheism, even tho we don't actually have the idea of "sin" there are a few things they and therefore, hellenic polytheistics shouldn't do, but interestingly enough the only thing that is likely, highly not encouraged to do, and mostly unforgiving in Hellenism, is Húbris.

I find it really interesting and curious, because I bet Rick knew about it when he wrote PJO and still decided to give Annabeth, one of his main characters, a fatal flaw that was the closest thing of what could be considered a "sin" in Ancient Greece (the society he was basing his story on).

I'm not saying "whoa, he wanted to make something." My personal opinion is that he just doesn't care, just like he doesn't care to make a better adaptation of the Gods, but I still find it interesting enough to rant about it.

+ it is really concerning see people treating her fatal flaw as something positive and to be cheered on, even in the literal book narrative, when in fact, It is not.

Excessive pride can be a sign of a narcissist behavior, what can lead to dangerous situations or to toxic relationships. And I see Rick playing too much with this edge in Perccabeth dynamics.

(I'm not saying she is narcissist, tho. I believe I have to make this as clear as possible here. There is a difference of having a trace of narcissism, and be diagnosticaded with it.)

Just to finish my thoughts, when I realized Perccabeth lost all the sparkle for me was when I've read one meta about someone who didn't like Annabeth's behavior towards Percy a long time ago. At that time I was an avid Perccabeth shipper, but I basically sat and tought about it, and made a mental exercise: If Percy was a woman, and Annabeth was a man, would their interactions still be considered cute and perfect in a relationship?

That was when I realized, no, it wouldn't be. And that was it for me.

No, I completely get it. I myself was a Percabeth shipper, I think everyone was at one point as most of us read these books at a young age. I am glad that all of us are seeing massive problems with the many canon relationships and other aspects of Riordan's terrible writing.

You give Rick Riordan too much credit. If you have checked out any recent pjo books, you can see how terrible the continuity is and how one dimensional the characters are becoming. So he certainly did not take into account the gravity of Annabeth's fatal flaw, it's repercussions or even it’s connotations in Greek myths.

Annabeth is, as I have said before, a character that always devolves through the lack of change in her attitude and the behavioral inconsistencies. She admits to her fatal flaw and how it endangers her in some instances but then never brings it up again. Doesn't do anything to actively improve on it either.

Her overall attitude remains condescending, judgemental, and heavily hypocritical. And that is putting it mildly.

The fact that she made Percy apologize for getting kidnapped against his will and then having his memory wiped out.

She repeatedly made negative or demeaning comments on his intelligence.

This should be enough of a giveaway in the first place.

Not to mention her horrifying treatment of Rachel and lack of remorse for it. Not a single apology made for it either. Or to Percy for acting as if she owned him.

Furthermore, her consistently violent actions. Now, even if they don't hurt Percy, it's still an extremely unhealthy manner of expressing her emotions.

Her repeated defense of Luke despite him putting Percy in mortal danger and attempting to kill Percy each time. Before anyone quotes they had a bond, they were family, I know, I do but by that time she had seen him do so multiple times and Thalia was family too, she understood right away that Luke was too far gone.

I also dislike the tendency of Rick and, therefore, the fandom to put Annabeth on a pedestal of she can do wrong. I have made multiple posts highlighting how Percy is canonically a better strategist than Annabeth and how Annabeth is certainly not the smartest demigod. Most knowledgeable, perhaps, but not the smartest.

To all the shippers, everyone agrees that the closest we get to absolutely perfect characterization of Percy is in Son of Neptune and Son of Sobek and the short story The Stolen Chariot. And the most obvious common thing between all these is the lack of Annabeth.

I am not saying Annabeth would ruin the book, but she does ruin Percy's character. Rick is so busy hyping her up for no absolute reason that it ends up demeaning Percy irrationally and illogically. And it happens every time.

Even if you blame later book characterizations of Annabeth on Rick Riordan's terrible writing, her early characterization had the same flaws. They are just now overtly apparent in the most recent books.

If the genders were reversed, this would be the paragon of a toxic relationship. I understand that there are excruciatingly few balanced heterosexual relationships that actually do it right and that the extreme nostalgia makes it hard for us to acknowledge any flaws on it but that's no reason to falsely advertise it as the perfect relationship. Not even close.

Not just due to these reasons but also because they have nothing in common nor do their goals align, and it's also a bit of a case of trauma bonding. Again, I have made individual posts on almost all these points

I don't think there's anything more that needs to be said on this matter, really, but feel free to ask.

[ddarker-dreams]

re-reading bits and pieces of SR have helped me quite a bit with post-election depression; it turns out an impending sense of doom can be evaded quite well with The Sillies! that being said, how would the bucci gang help SR Reader if she was going through a depressive episode?

i'm grateful to know that SR is able to bring some solace in what's been an awful state of affairs, as i've always considered it a comfort series myself.

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno senses something is off before you do. He's deeply in tune with your emotional state, taking mental note of everything you do down to the tiniest details. His initial instinct would be to identify any underlying issues that might have brought the depressive episode about. He's a man driven by action, willing to fight against unfavorable odds if it means enacting his vision. This leads to some internal struggle on his part, as there's no clear-cut solution to these bouts. He views you as his significant other in the purest sense — relying on you and wanting you to do the same with him. He'd eventually recognize his own hubris in his quest to 'fix things', opting for a more supportive role instead. Giorno matches his approach based on his perception of what he feels you need.

Bruno is surprisingly susceptible to your first few attempts to explain away your shift in mood. In the back of his mind, he knows something is wrong, but it's such a frightening prospect. He observed the signs in his father after his mother abandoned them. He'd get uncharacteristically stern with you, imploring that you confide in him if you keep dodging the issue. Essentially freezes your work and puts you on an indefinite sabbatical. He worries over you to the point of self-neglect. Not the healthiest approach, but there's no doubting his commitment to restoring your wellbeing. Bruno would take a break from his obligations and bring you to his hometown, where he hopes the change of pace will have a positive influence.

The ever-pragmatic Fugo would struggle with this greatly, he's not exactly a shining example of mental stability himself. He recognizes what's happening and feels utterly powerless to stop it. A bit hypocritical in the sense he'll pitch therapy or some other pharmaceutical treatment that he'd never undergo himself. He suffers from acting as an armchair psychologist, critiquing any habits that might contribute to your depression and getting frustrated if you don't actively work to resolve them. It comes from a good place; he's devastated over what's happening. You're supposed to be cheerful, making terrible jokes and pop culture references that drive him insane. He'll work himself to the bone for you to feel an iota better.

Narancia is at a loss at first. When your change in mood extends past a few 'bad' days, he can tell it's something serious, even if he can't put it into words. Ultimately, he decides it doesn't matter if it takes a week, year, or a decade; he will stick by you through everything. Narancia isn't one for subtlety, it's obvious that he's checking up on you multiple times throughout the day. He's tripping over himself to make you smile, even if it's for a fleeting second. Additionally, he's a better listener than most would give him credit for. There's absolutely nothing you could do or say that'd make him think less of you, so you never feel judged.

There is no one better at helping you feel 'normal' than Mista. He won't demand an explanation like Bruno, get frustrated over a perceived lack in progress like Fugo, or coddle you as Narancia's inclined to do. He's consistently himself. He'll take you on dates, make awful jokes, and go on unprompted spiels about his latest musings. It's not that he doesn't care — far from it — his view is just that knowing you, you'd feel bad if you realized how worried he is. If you open up to him, that's fine. If you don't, that's also okay. He moves at your pace and you never feel pressured to act a certain way around him.

Abbacchio's like well, that makes two of us. It's a complicated development. Having gone through a major depression, Abbacchio can technically empathize with you the most, but seeing himself in you is initially disconcerting. He's similar to Fugo in that your weird, peppy ways have become a lifeline. It's soul-crushing for him to recognize those first few signs. Unlike Fugo, however, he doesn't linger in this limbo for long. He takes a 'tell it like it is' approach. He won't shower you with platitudes or sugarcoat reality, but there's an undeniable thoughtfulness behind his every action. He'll give you space when necessary, sit in silence if you want company yet lack the words, ensure sure your pantry is stocked and laundry done. Abbacchio can be what he wishes someone had been for him.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I'm really sick and Satan's sacrificial waterfall is here AT THE SAME TIME!

I don't know if you do blurbs or headcannons, but if so, would you be willing to write for the boys (either taskforce 141, or singular characters,) taking care of an afab reader who has never had anyone wanting to take care of them?

If not, sorry to bother!

I don't typically take requests but... since I'm in the same boat (sacrificial waterfall is probably going to come over the weekend for me), I'll 100% do it.

A while back I also posted this: "You're feeling ill" and it's also along the same vein, if you'd like an extra little pick me up.

Period woes.

Rating: G Words: 1K~ tags: afab!reader but you/your pronouns, SFW!, fluff, comfort, periods and associated symptoms.

A person’s period might be the most hypocritical moment of their routine. They’re expected to continue moving, working and living their live as normal, all with a smile on their face, while their uterus actively attempts to cut off its own circulation… as if for any other injury or sickness you wouldn’t be expected to lay down and STOP for a moment and allow yourself to heal up, or at least improve enough to not be miserable.

But no. You’re expected to deal with it alone, to not show a reaction, to not be irritable, or groaning and writhing in pain. Take a shower, stock up on painkillers and slap a smile on your face, you’ve gotta go out in the world and act as if you’re not actively dreading every waking moment you spend on your feet.

That’s why you’ve learned to hide it when you’re going through your monthly. Your family, partners… not even your girlfriends know when you’re having it. Ever since you were a young teen, just starting out, it was very much a conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know, sort of moment.

But it’s miserable. You’re always miserable. Everything hurts, the cramps, the headaches, the back pain, hip pain, your sore chest… Plus the blood, the lack of appetite (or increase in appetite), the nausea, the fact you want to cry one moment, or break dishes and scream the next, the way your colleagues annoy you beyond compare, how certain sounds grit your nerves just. enough. to make you feel like you’re losing it… And then you can’t sleep.

And of course… he notices it. How could he not?

Ghost is discreet about it. He doesn’t mention it, doesn’t make a big deal about it… But he’s VERY good at taking care of you without you noticing he’s doing it. His love language is acts of service… So he simply goes around giving you a hand on whatever you might need. Food? Made. Dishes? Done. Laundry? Washed, Dried, Folded and Put Away. He finds you trying to do something? No. Give it here, he’ll do it.

The inevitable day that a leak happens and you find yourself angry at yourself as you strip the bedsheets off the bed, trying to be discreet about it so he doesn’t see it, he silently grabs the sheets off your hands and murmurs a “Go take a shower and change. I’ve got this.” before turning to put the sheets in the washer, clean the mattress and remake the bed so you can lay down again by the time your shower is over. It makes you emotional, sometimes, that such a stoic man will gladly take on every other responsibility to allow you to heal.

Gaz, blessed be him, is an absolute sweetheart… But he’s also a silly boy. He notices and although he’s not going to make a big deal about it, he’s still very… Boyish about it. Uses all the silly names for your period (“The Communists are coming”, “Shark week”,  “Satan’s waterfall”, “Carrie”) and affectionately calls you “My little ketchup packet”. 

He’s all for ordering takeout and getting you whatever you want when and how you want it. He’ll rub your back and be very careful about where and how he touches you. He’s ginger with touches around your waist and lower stomach, looks at you with those big brown eyes of his, as if checking that he’s not hurting you or crossing a boundary. You find yourself getting emotional when he whispers about how strong you are to deal with this every month… Keeps asking gently if you need anything… It makes you feel so safe.

Price’s older. He’s been in many relationships before. He notices your period is coming before it even does… Notices how you’re acting. Jumpier, grumpier, sadder… Notices how you toss and turn the couple of nights leading up to it. And he’s silently prepared. He’s made a supply run to the grocery store to get what brand of period products you use and some painkillers and puts them where you can see them in the bathroom. 

Fills you up with warm herbal tea and food that he knows are easy to digest and help with your state. No fucking chocolate and sugar or potato chips, you’re being pumped full of soups and stews and veggies and cut up fruit. He’ll sit by your side with a paring knife and an apple and slowly peel, core and cut it, before slowly feeding you (and himself) the slices. When you try to resist it, at first, too used to doing things alone, he’ll grab your face with both hands, look into your eyes and tell you. “And why exactly would I let you do that, when you’ve got me here to help you? How does that make sense?”

Soap’s… Well… Soap’s got a bunch of sisters… Each of them dealing with their periods in wildly different ways... So one thing he knows for sure: He’s not about to assume anything. You do what you’ve got to, he’ll adjust to you. He needs to go to the bathroom but you’re in there? Copy that, he’ll go piss in the yard. You’re having a cry in the kitchen because nothing looks good but you’re hungry? Talk it out with him, what do you want to eat? Let’s figure it out together, bonnie. You need to lie down in a dark room because of a migraine or headache or just to catch on sleep you’ve missed? Johnny’s blacked out every window, gathered every stray pillow and blanket in the house and will make you a nest if he’s got to.

And when you wake up in the middle of the night with a whine and a stretch because your back hurts and you’ve got cramps and cannot for the life of you get comfortable, Johnny’s hands are rubbing over you, pressing kisses to your temple and murmuring little “I ken, love… It’ll be over soon… I’m sorry you’re going through this…”

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #5766:

When people, mostly fanpol, with "(group) DNI" in big letters on their blogs keep showing up in YOUR notes of YOUR original art posts, so you always have to block a shit ton of people. Bitches, you show up in my activity if you interact (do you even know what DN*I* stands for?!). Stop being hypocrites and making other people feel awkward as shit. Do what having a big sign on your blog requires, or take it the fuck down. This is the internet, but there's something called a damn social contract and you're the only one looking like a crusty turd by circumventing your own DNI out of failure to check blogs, not me.

35 years old, and I feel like an old fucking lady yelling get off my lawn.

[moonystoes]

The way people are reacting to what happened to LJ and Millie Turner is exactly what I was expecting. People claim football is inclusive, and everyone gets the chance to feel respected and be able to play safely. But you only defend and protect the people that fit into your standards. They will only defend the people they like or share traits with. White supremacists aren't even trying to cover up their disgusting ideologies.

Turner posted a picture of James 'headlocking' her in the game. It didn't happen, LJ wanted the ball so she came from behind, Millie bent down which made it look like LJ was headlocking her. Not only did she post that knowing the amount of racial abuse and criticism LJ gets for simply breathing, she also commented and liked comments about it being a 'proper headlock'... no it wasn't. And she knows that.

Yet I hadn't seen many speaking about this here, do you guys suddenly not care about players being mistreated and racially abused because they're not white? What happened to all those fans harassing Korbin for excluding and disrespecting the queer community? Is football truly inclusive and for everyone like how you guys claimed it to be? Or is it suddenly not harmful or serious because it doesn't fit into YOUR beliefs?

Claiming LJ is aggressive with actual proof of fouls she committed is understandable, but posting pictures with no context and making it seem like she was trying to harm you is DISGUSTING. Those random Arsenal fans that love McCabe so much always bring the fact 'ohh but Katie never injured a player'... okay? And did LJ do that? Because last time I checked, when she does commit a foul, the player is hurt for a few minutes but continues playing like normal with no minor or serious injuries. You guys can't even find the right excuses to defend your racist thoughts lol. And if you're a McCabe fan, don't bother coming here and explaining why you hate LJ. I'm not listening to your ass. I truly respect McCabe, but I don't like her fans that HATE LJ (if you're a McCabe fan and you don't actively harass LJ... then this isn't for you).

Players from her OWN English squad liking and commenting is absolutely disgusting too. They can see the racial abuse their own teammate is experiencing but they're white ass don't care because again... what was I expecting from them? Of course they wouldn't. And Now that Turner is getting a lot of blacklash, she didn't delete the post. She kept that photo but turned off the comments.

I will always defend LJ, and I will always stand with football being for everyone. But some of you guys are hypocrites.

[yourfourthparent]

[touches the ground of mktwt] what happened here

so funny when people think things in fanfiction will normalise something like buddy fanfiction hasn't even normalised itself

[bonebabbles]

TEQ: 10

Oooo boy, here's the infamous chapter where Birchfeather goes off to live in SkyClan. Let's have a look-see.

All of ShadowClan is actually very sad to see him go. Firbark, his childhood friend, makes a teasing comment about how Ridgeglow will totally get tired of him and send him back-- said by the narrative to be a wish disguised as a mean joke. ShadowClan for "I hope you come back soon because I'll miss you."

Everyone is there except Tigerheartstar and Dovewing. Tawnypelt is not having this, so she goes to drag them out.

Dovewing has her face buried in her mate's shoulder and it seems like he's trying to console her. Tiger and Tawny start arguing. It's very clear in both the argument and narration that Dove and Tiger are acting irrationally out of pain and loss, AND that Birchfeather deserves to have his parents' love and support.

Tawny even points out that they're being hypocritical and should understand how he feels. That's what actually gets them out of the den.

Unfortunately, they give him an extremely formal goodbye. I read this like they're trying to keep it together, especially Dovewing seemed visibly upset while together in the den. To Birchfeather, though, it just feels like getting the cold shoulder during an extremely important moment of his life.

Tawny then walks her grandson to the border, checking in with him emotionally. He's glad that his parents don't hate him. She tells him that they're acting this way because they love him. He wishes he had their support, and she says that he doesn't need his parents' approval to make himself happy.

:( I love them.

The chapter doesn't end there, though. It keeps going for a second check on the human activity.

This time, instead of Leafstar, Palesky comes along. The younger cats are 3x as frustrating this time around, whining that they feel like they're wasting time going to check things out if they can't do anything about it anyway. I'm giving Tawnypelt permission to beat them with a stick. "Warriors respect their elders" my ass

At the Moonpool, Tawnypelt finds concrete powder, and notes that chunks of the ancient pathway have been broken away. I'm guessing that's a plan to place down a stairway.

When the patrol swings up back to the upstream construction, the young cats announce that it's pointless and go home. I didn't think I could like owlnose less, but he keeps disappointing me lol.

Tawny and Crow are chased by a dog. They run up a tree and unwanted romantic feelings rush into Tawnypelt as she looks at Crowfeather. She is overwhelmed by the urge to vomit as she finds out the humans are dumping oil in the river.

THEN the chapter ends.