#but snark is not a virtue!

[francesderwent]

thinking about snarky cultural/theological commentary and. the thing about snark is this: it’s easy, and it’s instant gratification. it’s easy because you’re playing to a likeminded audience. you get the way they think, you know the sort of things they find ridiculous, and so you know what’s going to play well with them. it’s not that hard to come up with a zinger that’s going to earn you applause from your own side. it’s also pretty easy to make another human being who’s not on your side look stupid, because we’re stupid creatures and we all have plenty of exploitable weak spots. it’s preaching to the choir, and it’s preaching meanly to the choir. and then, your snark bears all its fruit right away. you get the glowing feeling of having scored points against the enemy while being patted on the back by your friends for being so brave. if you succeeded in being snarky, you get the rewards of snark that very instant.

on the other hand, seeking to share the truth you possess in a mode in which it could actually be received—that is, says St Thomas, according to the mode of the recipient—that’s hard, and it’s so far from being instantly gratifying that you may never see the fruits of it in this life. not only are you not thinking about your likeminded audience, you’re not even going to trot out the truth simply in the way you understand it and call it your best effort. rather, you have to try to get inside your interlocutor’s frame of mind and understand how the truth you know is going to fulfill their own priorities and longings. you have to understand them so well that you see the truth of their position, even if that truth is buried very very deep, and then see how that truth connects them to the truth you see. you have to be insightful, and compassionate, and so, so patient. you don’t get to score any points, with anybody. your interlocutor might still get annoyed with you and turn around and make you look stupid. but you can’t just say “I’m going to speak the truth and I don’t care who hears and how they take it”—you have to care how they take it, because the truth is relational, it’s given and received, not just spouted into a void. and frankly you have to care how they take it because you have to care about their salvation.

don’t get me wrong, there are times in every person’s life when they will be called to stand up and be counted, to put fumbling words to what they hold most dear even if they can’t make everyone understand. but I don’t know that it’s a virtue to be always focused on being seen saying the truth, with no consideration given to who hears you and what they’ll hear in it—and it’s certainly not a virtue to be always focused on being seen saying the truth in a mean and funny way. “instruct the ignorant” is a spiritual work of mercy. but instruct the ignorant does not mean “instruct the ignorant while making the knowledgeable laugh and/or high five.”

[azurescaled-archived]

Things that I haven't talked about in detail here:

Izumi having not one, not two, but three children due to the pathfinder campaign they're involved in.

All of their children are just alternate versions of each other but idgaf Izumi would love them all the same.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Bratty!Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Tired of your antics regarding how cavalier you take your sexual relationship, your lieutenant cuts you off and that has you immediately plotting. You know you can get him to break and all it'll take is one purchase. How can he keep his resolve when he sees what you've bought? And how will he act when he catches you?

Word Count: 6.8 k

Warnings:

The office is silent now except for the distant sounds of movement filtering in from outside the door of people coming and going through the building. Your shirt clings in a rumpled mess to your body, sweat speckling across your limbs from that specific heat that gets shared between two bodies, euphoria still running through your veins when the man sitting beneath you speaks. “We’re not doin’ this again, so get that straight. Understand?”

You tilt your head to the side and raise a curious eyebrow, staring back into the face of your lieutenant as he gets you to your feet and grabs his shirt to throw it back over his head, covering his sweat-glistening torso. “Care to explain what you’re talking about or am I meant to just guess?” you ask with snark in your tone as you pick up the rest of your clothing off the floor.

Buttoning his pants and re-buckling his belt, he takes his time before answering as you finish and stand there impatient and agitated. “What the fuck did I say about startin’ stuff with me when I’m busy?” Lt. Riley questions back, his voice harsh. “Did ya think I was jokin’ or are ya just hell bent on gettin’ caught? Cause that’s what’s gonna fuckin’ happen if ya keep temptin’ me in the middle of the day.”

“You could turn me away,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “ever heard of self-control?”

Stepping up close to your body, the lieutenant grabs you by the chin and looks down his nose at you. “You’re too much of a distraction. And ya need to be taught a lesson, sweetheart; when I say somethin’ I fuckin’ mean it. Consider this my self-control.” 

“Oh, gonna punish me now?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you pull your face out of his grasp with a flick of your head. “Okay, go ahead. Let’s see what you got.”

“Ya ain’t gettin’ nothin’ from me til I can be sure you’re gonna listen. You’re cut off, sweetheart, and until ya can learn, we’re done with this.” 

You hold his gaze steadfast, not intimidated in the least. If he wants to play this game, then you’ll play it, but if he thinks this is going to end the way he wants, he is going to be sorely mistaken. “Fine.” You don’t argue, there is no sense to. “Have it your way, sir. Is that all?”

You’ll have it your way soon enough. All it’ll take is patience.

He doesn’t say anything, opting to sit back in the chair behind his desk without uttering another word. It is a gross miscalculation on Lt. Riley’s part not to immediately take your acceptance if his reprimand as a giant red flag, but if he isn’t willing to put his knowledge of your competitive temperament to use then that is fully on him; he is a big boy and since he wants to talk about consequences, then he should be ready to receive his own.

You double check yourself in silence before you leave his office with a smug sense of satisfaction, though a plan isn’t in mind just yet. It doesn’t matter really, the bigger they are the harder they fall and you are confident that you can make him fold with very little effort because despite being a man of mostly mystery, you know the intimate details of what makes that 6’4” military officer weak. 

The day isn’t even over before you already have a plan in mind and it all involves one very specific item. It’s a shame you have to order it, but the time it’ll take to come in the post will work in your favor. Lt. Riley needs time to cool off, to miss his pretty thing, to let his appetite for you get ravenous again.

Patience was never your virtue unless it came to getting something you wanted, so you bore your restlessness in silence as you waited for your order to come in. You give the lieutenant his space without a fuss, letting him believe his little delusion that at any moment you’ll come crawling back ready to obey him just as he wants.

A week passes and then nearly another when finally you are gifted with your prize that comes in the evening mail that Friday. You can taste the sweetness of your retribution already as you rip into the package and pull out the smallest, tightest pair of jet black hot pants with white trim. No more keeping this body for his eyes only; if he doesn’t want to give you the attention you desire then someone else will. 

You rush to your barracks the second the day comes to a close with your package in hand; you have only a short window of time to pull your entire plan together or you’ll be forced to wait till after the weekend and you are tired of waiting. Tonight is the night that you make your lieutenant come crawling back to you and stop with this nonsense.   

The tiny swath of fabric covering your ass barely hides a damned thing from view, hugging around your hips like they are painted on and resting at the very top of your thighs so that the underside of your butt peeks out from below the hem. There is a slit that goes up the side and it is doing its job in making your legs look extra long while also showing as much skin as possible. It leaves almost nothing to the imagination for anyone who happens to look your way… and boy do you want as many eyes on you as you can get.

Let’s see him be steadfast in his resolve to teach you a lesson now.

With a head full of devious thoughts, you leave your room and head out onto base and into the oncoming night. Shoulders back and head held high you walk past the buildings with confidence on the way to your first stop of the night: the officers building. You had checked the clock just before you left, it’s nearly time now. He’ll be leaving his office soon and you need him to catch sight of you on the way to your second destination: the rec center.

How lucky it is that the lieutenant is a man of routine and so giving it another minute or two you step out in front of the building and start heading directly for the rec, though at a slower pace than usual. And sure enough, when you’re still within eyeshot, you hear the front door to the building open. 

Stepping out into the cooler evening air, Lt. Riley looks up and his sight is captured by a figure moving just up ahead in the distance. People coming and going isn’t abnormal on a military base, but what really catches his attention is the familiarity of the body and the way that body is dressed. He is stunned in his tracks because you are barely wearing anything at all with shorts that look like they’ve been painted on. Paired with the tight black tank top you’ve chosen and you might as well be naked for all the covering it does. After a good almost two weeks of no action, the man is starved…but also curious as to where the fuck you are going dressed like this. 

The best thing would have been for the lieutenant to turn tail and walk away, leave it and you alone, but as smart as Lt. Riley is when it comes to temptation the man is a goddamn fool that cannot help himself.

You are a good bit ahead by the time he takes action and decides to follow you, but he keeps the pace as heat floods his body from staring at the back of you walking away, desperately wanting to take a bite out of all that juicy meat tempting his gaze as it bounces with each sure-footed step you take. Fuck, he is a sucker for all the plump, tender parts of your body and having them on display like this is a regular buffet that he can’t help but soak up even with his nosiness into what exactly has you looking so killer. 

Those auburn eyes of his continue to follow you as you come to the front of a building and enter. Now that you are out of view, he can think more clearly and he realizes that it’s the rec center that you’ve just entered. The closer the lieutenant gets, the more he catches raucous sounds of many voices braying like a pack of crazed hounds, making him quicken his steps that match his rising blood pressure until he stands just outside the doors to peer in without being detected yet.

Through the glass doors he can see towards the back of the main room that a group of privates surrounding the single government bought pool table with cues in hand are now circling you like wolves circling a wounded deer, practically begging you to join them for a few games while he knows that its only to get you to stay longer so that they can enjoy the view. It makes his blood boil to watch them ogle you like that, getting far too close to what isn’t theirs. 

…to what belongs to him.

Standing in silence, now cloaked in darkness as night has fallen, he watches angrily as a private gets bold enough to place his hand at the small of your back just as you lean over the table to make your first shot and suddenly he is seeing red. He can barely comprehend anything through the angry haze clouding his vision, but he can feel the cold steel of the door handle in his hand as he wrenches it open and stalks inside as if he is ready to kill.   

All eyes immediately drift towards the source of the sound. You look up through a giggle to see the form of the lieutenant standing there, sharp gaze boring straight into you specifically and the man who still has his hand on you. 

“What’s goin’ on ‘ere,” that deep voice booms through the small space to quiet the rowdy bunch.

“Is there a problem, sir?” one of the more brave privates speaks up.

His sight doesn’t leave you. “Seems we need to have a chat about propriety,” he growls. “This is a military base, not a fuckin’ strip club.” 

You smirk. “I don’t know what kind of strip clubs you frequent, sir, but I can assure you that this is more clothing than most will allow.”

A few of the privates snicker behind you, impressed with your audacity to backtalk someone as imposing as the skull-masked officer and that does nothing but add fuel to the fire.

“Come with me- now.” His voice is firm. 

A collective “ooooh” passes around the bunch that is quickly quelled with one harsh glare. “If I were ya I would get back to my fuckin’ game,” Lt. Riley barks. “Or would you lot rather be placed on permanent fire guard to drive the goddamn point home, since ya want to meddle in an officer’s business?”

His command is absolute and none of the privates have the balls enough to question it. Quickly they scramble back to their game, keeping their heads down and eyes locked to the table. Whatever trouble you are about to get in is none of their concern, not when being reprimanded by the imposing lieutenant is on the line.

Satisfied, those amber eyes snap right back to you. “Move, now,” he demands and points towards an area of the rec that is blocked off by a wall, essentially cutting the room in two and will give enough privacy that the others inside won’t be able to witness what is about to transpire. 

“Of course, sir,” you say in agreement without a syllable of dissention. 

Turning on your heels you take off in the direction pointed out to you, walking ahead of the masked officer eagerly. He’s mad; there is no need to turn around, you can feel his glare on you the entire walk over and it makes you smile. You’ve hit the nerve you had hoped to. Now to bring it all home and get your lover back the way you want. 

As soon as you make it behind the cover of the corner his hand is on your waist as he shoves you into the wall with brute force. Your back hits it and you let out a surprised gasp. He stands towering over top of you, a powerfully intimidating figure with a massive presence to match as he glares you down with fire in his gaze. 

“Can I fucking help you?” you ask as you quickly regain your composure.

Christ, when you want to get his attention you sure know how to do it. “What the fuck do ya think you’re doin’, hmm?” he questions back heatedly. “Puttin’ on a fuckin’ show for all the privates? Do ya fuckin’ think this appropriate, what ya got on?”

Something about having this conversation with the barrier of his balaclava covering his face infuriates you as if this was any other time he would have already had it off his face. “You think you can just treat me like everyone else after all we’ve done? Fuck you; take off the mask when you’re talking to me.”

His eyes narrow as he shakes his head side to side. “You don’t get to make demands a me anymore, princess.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge back. “That what you think?”

Leaning in a bit closer, you can feel the heat of his breath even as it filters through the fabric. “That’s what I know. Now answer the question. Do ya think this is appropriate?”

Your shrug is nonchalant. “For field work? Well, it depends on the climate I suppose. That doesn’t really apply here does it, since we are still on base. Why? Do you have a problem with it?”

A sharp hiss of air exits rapidly out of his nose. “Like hell I do,” he says and suddenly you can make out the feel of his fingertips as they toy around with the fabric at the edge of your shorts. He lets them brush against your outer thigh as he follows the line of the hem up the slit that goes higher towards your hip. There is electricity in his touch and it makes your pulse start to race. “You're distracting my men. An outfit like this is askin’ for attention. Whose fuckin’ attention ya tryin’ to get, hmm?”

“Who said anything about attention?” you question him back as if you can’t possibly understand what all the fuss is about. “I just wanted to be comfortable. You know, unwind and all that after a long week.”

“Comfortable,” he scoffs as he rolls the fabric in between his fingers. “Ya barely have a god damned thing on.”

“Maybe that’s how I feel most comfortable,” you push, your reply a little more breathy. “You of all people should know that.” 

Oh you are walking on thin ice, lying to him like this. He is not that innocent that he can’t tell what you’re doing and you are not that naive to think that he won’t immediately figure it out. Harshly grabbing your chin, he holds your face firm in his grasp as his dark eyes shadowed within the confines of his mask stare back into your own. 

“Don’t ya lie to me, sweetheart,” he says, that gruff voice metered and unyielding in its severity. “The way ya were just eatin’ up how those boys reacted, I know ya didn’t fuckin’ dress like a slag for nothin’.”

“Are they not allowed to look, Simon?” you ask without missing a beat and using his name as if it’s a curse.

The question hangs in that air as Simon shifts in his stance while not saying a word, eyes narrowing as he realizes that there is no right way for him to answer that without giving himself away that he has dug himself into trouble.

A smug grin crosses your lips before you try to lick it away. “Ah, so that’s the problem right? That they were looking at me? Strange, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were… jealous. But that can’t be right, can it Simon? Because I thought I was cut off and that you were done, so it’s all fair game yeah? Unless there is something you want to fess up to?”

Simon’s chiseled jaw twitches under his mask as his eyes shimmer; you are pushing it, though why is he even surprised. “Ya better watch it, luv,” he warns under his breath as his grip along your chin tightens. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, your pretty little fingers are gonna fuckin’ burn.” 

And before you are even made conscious of it, your mind immediately knows what to say in response. You hold his gaze steadfast in your own. “Make me.”

Those two little words and their variations are Simon’s kryptonite and you know it; that’s what got you on his cock in the first place. Nothing else can make that man go feral than a threat from a bratty bitch that puts him in the position to show them the consequences of what their cocky attitudes get them.  

You smirk, satisfied with how you seem to have the upper hand in this little confrontation. Simon is now in a place where he will either have to admit he still wants you and that his threat meant nothing or he will have to let you go… and you know by the rapid increase in the rise and fall of his chest the longer you stand between him and the wall that the latter is looking less and less likely. 

“Still waiting on your answer,” you say with a smug, satisfied grin spread across your lips, “or is it that if you say anything, it’ll make it clear that you are now regretting a certain… decision… you so hastily made?”

God, you know just how to rile him up in the exact way that both infuriates and entices him. His devil with a pretty face, his sin that feels like heaven; he is drawn to your stubbornness like a moth is drawn to a flame.

“Ya vicious little bitch,” he says, the words sharp. 

Gotcha, you think to yourself. You have that serious military officer right where you want him. Now all you have to do is go in for the kill. You take a step into him even with your chin still secure in his grasp. “Oh yeah,” you respond, your voice husky. “As if you don’t fucking love it.”

You are met with only silence as a shiver runs straight through him. He’s barely able to react in time to hide its presence, but grits his teeth hard and stifles any movement other than the rapid breaths he continues to take. 

“Cat got your tongue?” you ask and wait for a response that doesn’t come; you don’t expect it to. “That’s what I thought. So, here’s how it’s going to work: I’m gonna wear what I want, when I want, and if you don’t like how others react to my wardrobe then that’s on you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got a game to return to.” 

Pulling your head back forcefully out of his grip, his strong, rough fingers release your chin and he watches as you make your move to step past him, but he can’t let this go like he had originally planned. This is the game you both play and he just can’t quit you. You are his, his, and he isn’t going to just let you forget that. You barely take the first few steps around him headed back the way you came when you hear Simon mutter under his breath. 

“Fuck,” the sigh hits your ears before his arm jettisons out and grabs you by the wrist. 

Your body is spun around and pulled into him, your back flush against his warm chest as he leans himself back against the wall. His hand shoots up to cover over your mouth, cupping across your cheeks to stifle any sound that may come from the shock of his action. Sure enough you gasp into his palm as he straps you to his chest by locking you in place with his other arm. 

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, princess,” he grunts lowly into your ear. 

Stoic and silent he pushes a knee up through the gap in your legs to widen them before his hand slinks down your abdomen, over your pants, and comes to rest against your sex. That large palm now nestled in between your thighs presses up into you and it only takes a few seconds for Simon to realize that he can feel the lips of your pussy straight through the thin fabric of your pants without any barrier. No panties, really?

You fucking witch. You planned this, didn’t you?

There are still soldiers hanging about, out of sight for the moment, but still not something that is conducive for such an encounter. He wouldn’t risk something like this…would he? What you think is going to be a quick touch and pull back turns into his hand locking to your pussy as he begins to massage it through your pants. He pushes his fingers up through the cloth until he can feel the outline of your clit on his fingertips.

A quiet chuckle falls from your lips behind his handmade muzzle as his fingers make contact with the crotch of your shorts and you feel his chest jerk as he struggles to catch his breath. Feel something you like, lieutenant? you think as the corners of your mouth upturn against his skin. 

A moan barely squeaks out from around his hand before he presses it harder against your lips. “Don’t need someone catchin’ us, do we? Not til I’m finished with ya.”

Those heated words cause your heart to race violently, thudding strong against your ribcage to match a certain throbbing growing in strength between your thighs. 

“You gonna keep quiet?” he asks and you nod in his hand. “Don’t make me regret it or else, princess.”

Simon removes his palm and wraps his arms around your waist; you’re not going anywhere. “We could still get caught, you know,” you say softly, stumbling over your words as his fingers continue to play.

“Ya should've thought of that before ya tempted me with this fuckin’ skin, luv,” he murmurs against the side of your head. There is no way in hell you are getting out of these shorts without him fucking you out of them, he will stop only when he can feel a wet spot soaking through the crotch. “ ‘Sides, maybe I want that prick that had his fuckin’ hands on ya ta see that he doesn’t stand a chance.” 

He won’t, he has never been the type to share but the threat serves its purpose. The boys at the pool table continue to distract themselves, but who knows how long that will last. If they come creeping over, there is no way they won’t instantly know what is happening. And yet over and over his large fingers grind against your clit until it begins to ache. 

“Gimme your hand,” he searches for the appendage, only to be met with resistance once he locates it. 

“I said give,” he reiterates the point in that more authoritative tone he is used to using with his men.

You shake your head that still rests in his grasp; you don’t want to make this easy for him. If he wants something he is going to have to work for it. Encapsulating your wrist in his hand, the muscles along his forearm strain as he drags your arm up from your side. He takes your hand firmly in his, fingers lacing themselves over the top of your own as he descends them both down the front of your body and slips them into the waistband of your shorts. No time is wasted in bringing them directly between your legs, parting through your warm, soft lips, and nestling both sets of fingers inside. 

“Gonna need ya ta participate in this part,” he says, low and bassey at the side of your face. “You’re fuckin’ achin’ bad, aren’t ya? Christ luv, I can already feel how swollen your clit is.”

Simon keeps your conjoined fingers resting up against that tiny bundle of nerves. There is a tension-filled pause as he takes a deep, labored breath as the end of his thought hangs anxiously in the air, waiting for him to finish it. His lips are right at the threshold of your earlobe, you can feel their presence as they ghost near the tender flesh, the skin tingling as his warm breath wafts over the area.

You suddenly realize the lack of oxygen filling your lungs as he finally speaks. “Let’s make it worse,” he growls. 

A shiver snakes through your spine as he forces your fingers to work in tandem with his in rolling circles over your sensitive clit, stroking again and again in a steady rhythm that he has set. 

“Best hope they decide to leave soon, sweetheart,” he breathes the words into your ear as he rests his forehead against your temple. “Cause if ya want me to let ya fuckin’ come, they’re gonna have to be gone. Until then we’re just gonna have to keep ya wet and fuckin’ ready.”

His phallus pulses against your ass through his pants, bobbing with his racing heartbeat as it prods into the cheek of your ass. A struggled, shaky breath escapes your lips as he moves his hips to press it into you; your sanity is hanging on by a thread. All you want is for him to bend you over, rip your shorts down, and thrust inside, but no matter how much you rub against it he does not take the bait.

Time passes so much slower as you stay strapped to him, his hand and yours shoved down the front of your shorts keeping you wet. Your sanity is beginning to wane; no one should be expected to keep it together when a lover who knows your body like the back of his hand is using everything to his advantage to keep you aching.

Pressure gathering in the pit of your stomach only to dissipate before it can ever come to fruition, over and over Simon brings you to the brink only to back off once you get close enough. It feels like eternity in the haze of his capable fingers working your body before the men finally decide that they have had enough with standing around the quiet center when the local bar is just a short drive down the road and head out, completely forgetting that they haven’t seen either you or the lieutenant for quite some time, but they also haven’t seen either of you leave. 

The moment the door shuts and the last sounds of talking can be heard drifting off into the distance, you are released and again turned only to be shoved back against the wall. Simon is immediately pressed against you, one knee collapsing into the wall between your legs as your hands greedily claw at the cloth gathered at base of his neck, fingers pulling up the bottom of his mask without hindrance so that they can get underneath it and push it up to expose his hungry mouth. A devilish, toothy grin waits to meet you as the fabric is removed; he’s proud of the desperation he has left you in. 

“They’re gone,” you say with a heavy bit of neediness. “I did what you said.” 

“Ya want me ta give it to ya now, that it?” he asks with a smug sense of self satisfaction. 

“You promised,” you shoot back, the agony of waiting becoming unbearable the longer he takes. 

His face inches in closer to yours, hot breath meeting and wafting over the skin on your lips as he exhales. “Ya think this is gonna be some sorta reward?” he asks, his voice lowering into the deeper part of his register, that gravely vibrato that turns your legs into jelly just from the sound.  

Those full lips of his ghost over your own, making the skin quiver from the proximity. Your mouth parts open as suddenly you feel like you can’t get enough air while waiting in misery for him to break and crash on you with all of his desire. A breathy gasp escapes through the gap as that thick thigh of his presses up into your pussy. He has you right where he wants you now.  

“Ya still got a fuckin’ lesson ta learn, princess,” he says. “So, I’m gonna have ta fuck the attitude til it comes drippin’ right out of ya.” 

And with that he leans down and forcefully connects your lips together so that your head hits the wall behind you. Fiery and aggressive he embraces your mouth again and again, lips fighting for dominance with each new connection. Breath and spit are shared as the wet smacking sounds of skin on skin hits the air and fills up the quiet of the place. 

You haven’t gotten your fill yet, but suddenly you find your body being lifted into the air and carelessly flung over one of his broad shoulders as he drags you back into the middle of the room. He eyes his destination the moment it comes into view from around the wall and quickly makes his way over to it; somewhere he can put you so he can get to work.

Your backside makes contact with the smooth felt of the pool table as Simon sets you down on top of it. The cool surface of the rails raises goosebumps on the back of your thighs as he situates you right at the edge. No longer pressed together, a spot of cold radiates from his thigh and he looks down to see a present you have left for him right on the fabric.

“Look what ya did,” he growls, pointing to the obviously darker patch on the inner thigh of his jeans. “Made a fuckin’ mess.”

“Whose…ng…fucking fault is that?” you whimper, adjusting yourself as every little movement puts pressure on your aching clit. 

“And I’d do it again ta keep my brat in line,” he smirks as his irises sparkle like a predator locking on to its prey. “Now, open your fuckin’ legs.”

You widen the gap between your thighs more, but he still has to use his hips to shove them open enough that he can fit in until he is right up against you. The sharp edge of his teeth cuts into the plump flesh of your bottom lip as he sucks it into his mouth to give it a hard nip. He swallows down the harsh groan you produce at his delicious brand of roughness like it’s honey. Every single sound you make in response to his actions is music to his ears. 

“Need ya ta know this type a shit isn’t gonna fly with me.”

Fingertips play around the perimeter of your cunt until he hooks them through the cool, damp crotch of your pants and wrenches them to the side to expose your entrance. “Let’s ruin these fuckin’ things,” he smugly says as he works with one hand to undo his pants and slide both that and his boxers down his thighs until his cock pops out of the waistband and stands hard and throbbing for you. “Don’t ever wanna see these goddamn things again after tonight.”

His vice-like grip on the crotch of your shorts causes a few of the overly taut threads to snap as he holds the fabric out of his way to align the swollen head of his cock with that dripping, aching hole he’s been working so that it’s already ready to take him in. You can feel the tip of his hard girth push against the moist skin before he bucks his hips and it strains through the barrier. His grip moves to your waist to force your body further down on him as you whine, the stretch overwhelming, but divine. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, princess? Why you wore these tight fuckin’ things, yeah? Ya tryin’ ta make me take ya like an animal?” he grunts, the feel of your tight, silky walls fluttering around his cock as he fills you full threatening to send him straight to hell. 

“The moment I saw ya in ‘em I thought I was gonna lose control. Been a while since I had ya. That on purpose too?”   

You fall backward against the table, your back arching up off it and your eyes roll back into your head as he pulls you down while slamming the length of his phallus up into you until he reaches the base. He doesn’t give you a moment to gather your sanity and instead snaps his hips into you, the intensity in each stroke causing your body to jolt over the felted surface. 

“Look at me,” he grunts as he reaches out to grab at your chin and pull you back up to him, “look - at - me.”

You’re unable to deny him when he’s thrusting so deep and your eyes open to meet his gaze again. “You’re mine, ya hear?” he breathes the words desperate and firm. “Nobody else can look at ya like this, got it? Nobody.”

His breath hitches a moment as a shudder runs through his cock from the way you tighten around it. “Those boys out there mighta gotten a show tonight, but that’s the last they’ll ever get,” he growls more intensely. “Don’t even want ‘em to think they have a fuckin’ chance wit ya cause you belong ta me. You were made for me, princess. Only me.”

Harder and harder he pounds into your pussy with a need that feels like it cannot be quenched no matter how deep he goes. “And nobody else - nobody else- ya don’t need anyone else ‘sides me. Say it.” 

A pathetic whimper is all he gets in response as his cock digs in deep, but that isn’t good enough. You’re gonna do exactly as he says and repeat it - out loud. His grip around your face tightens.

“Say it,” he demands again. 

“Don’t… need a-anyone…else…” you stammer out as it is a struggle now to speak. 

Then you hear it, the distinct sound of fabric beginning to rip. The seam along the crotch has had too much strain put on it and it is starting to give, threads ripping more steadily the harder Simon thrusts. God, that sound is the catalyst to you suddenly feeling wild, like all you want him to do is shred the fucking things off of you by screwing you out of them. It’s at that moment that familiar warmth begins to gather in your belly. It won’t be long now and you’ll be spilling.

“Say: you’re the only one I fuckin’ want,” he insists as he clenches to make his cock pulse inside of you.

Simon’s wide hand slides down from your chin to just at the base of your throat where he wraps it around and gives it a light squeeze for emphasis. The pressure feels like heaven amongst all the stimulation and trying to keep your eyes on him and speak at the same time is nearly impossible, but find your words soon enough.

You lick your parched lips. “You’re the only one I want, Simon,” you moan.

“Again.”

“You’re the only one I will ever want, Simon.”

Another couple of desperately strong thrusts. “And you’re gonna listen from now on, yeah?”

“Yes!” you blurt out.

He pulls you by the throat so that you meet him in a kiss as his hips never stop snapping into you. “Such a fuckin’ obedient girl for me,” he groans against your mouth as he breaks free from it. “Now, let’s make ya come so ya never fuckin’ forget who it is that ya belong to.”

Releasing your neck, Simon brings his hand down, parting through your dripping lips to find your clit so that he can rub over it as he thrusts. There is not much more you can take now; all his work before has done its job to perfection and your body is falling apart so rapidly it feels like the nosedive off that first ddrop of a rollercoaster. 

“G-gonna… gonna come, baby,” you stammer out. You bring your lips in closer to his, desperate to kiss him again, but the pleasure is just too much to handle that you devolve into simply panting instead. 

He inhales in ragged breaths the sweet air from your mouth, his teeth grinding together the harder he thrusts. All those days without you have been frustrating as he waited for you to come crawling back. He missed the feeling of you wrapped around him and right now he needs you to come on his cock. 

But this isn’t going to teach you what he wants. Pulling out amidst your whined protests, he pulls you off the table onto your feet and spins you around before pushing your upper body down while guiding you to spread your stance wider and ripping the crotch of your pants aside again, this time he doesn’t hesitate to enter you.

From this angle the penetration is even deeper and as his finger finds that tiny bud of nerve endings again, you are right back where you want to be - a mess ready to explode.   

“Come for me.” He is demanding while trying to hold it all together. “Now.”

Harder and harder he pushes, thrusting and stroking, and like the flick of a switch all that heat and all that pressure culminates in an explosion that has you crying out loudly as you come with force, your back arching to pull you away from his grasp. Waves wash through your body as the intensity of your orgasm shakes through you until your legs are vibrating around his hips. 

The moment you cry out he allows himself to let go, finally finished with his task, and fucking you through your orgasm he comes so hard that he has to grab the sides of the pool table to keep himself upright. Grunting like an animal he coats your walls and thrusts his cum continuously back up into you until he is spent and cannot go another second. 

Simon stays inside as you both come back down from that exhilarating high, two glistening bodies conjoined at the forehead with eyes closed until he has enough strength to pull his sensitive cock carefully out of you. Both of your mixed juices follow his cock out, dribbling out of your entrance to collect in the crotch of your pants as they snap back into place now that there is nothing keeping them pushed aside. 

You flip yourself back over and lean against the edge of the table to look down at what’s left of your shorts. They are completely soaked, drenched in so much of your juices that they look wet. The ruined fabric clings to your body as if it’s glued on and you are left feeling cold down there as Simon pulls away.

“That’s better,” he says with satisfaction as he studies his handiwork of the ripped, saturated fabric. “And so is this.”

A more gentle kiss is placed on your lips this time, one in praise of you doing so well for him. You reciprocate the feeling by cupping his face in your hands.

“And we’re not gonna have any more a this, right?” he asks as he pulls from your mouth.

Looking into his eyes, a subtle smirk contours your lips. “We’ll see,” you say as Simon shakes his head.

He wouldn’t expect anything less.

“So,” you continue, “I’m just wondering if you thought about how I’m going to leave here, now that I look like this. Gonna need something so I don’t have to cross base.” 

Across the way he spots a random jacket hanging off the back of a chair, left by one of the privates no doubt. Looks big enough and he returns with it in hand. Carefully he circles the sleeves around your body and ties them in front to cover you until you can get back to your room and change. Don’t need anyone seeing anything they shouldn’t.

“I did really like these by the way,” you pick as Simon pulls you by the knot in the sleeves wrapped around your waist back into him to catch your lips one last time with his.  

“Don’t ya worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna be gettin’ you a new pair, ones that I chose,” he says. “Cause I’m gonna be the only one that gets to enjoy this fuckin’ view from now on. And it’s a view you’re gonna give me ‘gain and again, darlin’.”

[writeshite]

Spencer’s head was swimming. You held his wrists just ahead of him in one hand, the other held him by his hip, what little freedom Spencer had was spent gripping the sheets and incessantly pleading to you. His knees had given out, but you held him up as much as you needed him to be, not that you were doing any sort of moving.

He whined softly, pushing back as best as he could to incite you, he winced at the stretch that accompanied his resolve, the pain had faded as you’d worked your cock as patiently and slowly as excruciatingly possible. You tut at his behavior, leaning closer, “I know what you want, darling, but patience is a virtue,” you reminded him.

You adjust your legs and Spencer’s head falls forward when your dick incidentally slips out, “Sorry, love,” pushing aside one of Spencer’s arse cheeks, Spencer mewled and you held him firmly before he could greedily push himself back onto your cock. It had been this way for an hour or two, slow fucking followed by stillness, Spencer was on the verge of tears with his begging. You move again, dick dragging inside Spencer, he felt like his body was alight, you languidly rocked against him, kissing the hickeys you’d left along his neck and shoulders.

Mercifully, you don’t stop indefinitely this time, pace increasing until the headboard was slamming against the wall, you release Spencer’s hands to focus on holding his hips, and Spencer clutches the sheets tighter. “W—what happened to patience?” He half snarks, gasping breathlessly.

“Hard to be patient when I’ve got you, love,” your response equally as breathless, you groan softly, “fuck…” Relief washes over Spencer and he sings a chorus of gratitude when you fuck him earnestly, his senses scramble further, the headboard banging against the wall a distant sound.

"Cookie?" You yawned, waking, you turned to see Spencer trying to hide his face in the nook between your neck and the pillows. You raise a brow and muse, “What’s got you all shy?”

Spencer mumbles something, blushing, burrows his face further and you note the flustered red hue present on his skin. “Didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart,” you tease, but Spencer doesn’t clarify himself, growing redder and quieter, you chuckled softly and bundle him in your arms.

[002yb]

Damian going to Jason when his Robin suit needs mending.

Which is fine, but it catches Jason off guard because they don't necessarily have a close relationship anymore. Not since Jason left the League. They haven't talked about it ever since reuniting.

So Jason asks, "Why me?"

And Damian grimaces in this way that so clearly reads that he went out somewhere he shouldn't have been and wants no evidence left behind. Instead of explaining that though, Damian grumbles, "Pennyworth would expose me in an instant."

Which would make Jason snicker because really - Alfred should.

And Damian would bristle because Jason is to be on Damian's side always and his side alone, Todd. He forgets himself. )<

Which provokes Jason's ire, so he scoffs and takes the suit and takes the liberty of customizing it a bit.

Cue Damian, confused about the small loop at his back. It's a hazard.

To which Jason would snark that the only hazard is Damian. And remember when--

And Damian would go pale, because no.

Only Jason is already holding the leash and cackling because what was it Damian said before? Don't forget himself, right habibi??

It's all sarcasm in that term of endearment, but behind the wicked smirk is affection and it sends a thrill of excitement and dread up Damian's back

A scuffle ensues with Damian squawking indignantly and Jason snickering, but Damian ultimately loses the battle and is made to walk around on a kiddie leash

Damian complaining about how undignified it is. Being absolutely mortified that Jason gets a picture somehow, too.

Only Jason smiles so brilliantly as he pulls out another photo of a younger Damian in a similar position. And when Jason admits to missing it (them), Damian relents some and bumps Jason's shoulder. A brief moment of contact and connection; the slightest of smiles on his lips because Damian misses it too.

Extra:

Dick gets hold of the pictures and sets them as his phone's lock screen and background, much to Damian's chagrin

Dick, teasing Damian about if he'd like to have a sibling

Which Damian gets catty about because he's positive Bruce is geriatric at this point and medically cannot

(Cue indignant and offended Bruce in the background)

And Dick snickers as he nods to Jason before looking back to Damian with a raised brow and wicked smile and Damian flushes and bristles and tamps his foot down at the implication because lay not a hand on him lest you want it removed, Grayson!

(Cue again: indignant Bruce in the background, ready to throw down for his babygirl's virtue)

Jason playing along with Dick's game because riling Damian (and Bruce) is hilarious. Forget the fact that they both know that Dick's not knocking anyone up in this lifetime and that Jason is a man; it's the principle of the matter!

Extra extras:

Something something Dick pressing the softest of kisses to Jason's navel and resting his head to Jason's abdomen

And Jason holding him there because he's thinking it, too: maybe in another life - one that's kinder.

[schraubd]

New Frontiers of Darkness

The Washington Post has unveiled its new slogan to supplement (in practice, supplant) the old "Democracy Dies in Darkness": "Riveting Storytelling for All of America." I can't tell you how much I hate this. First of all, even out of context, it sounds both comically corporate and unbearably patronizing. "Riveting storytelling for all of America" sounds like how to market the Scholastic Book Fairs for emerging readers, not one of America's papers of record. But of course, we must take this slogan in context. And the context is the Post spending the last few months humiliating itself and dynamiting its journalistic credibility by repeated acts of groveling towards the MAGA movement. And I know I'm beating a dead horse here, but this slogan really encapsulates the media's self-delusion that it is part of the liberal family. Again, recall my thesis here: the media thinks its main audience is liberals, and so it sees its job as to challenge liberals with "alternative perspectives" or "competing views" (as opposed to just telling the truth and letting the chips fall where they may). One implication of this is that conservatives are a growth audience (because of course the Post in its prior manifestation couldn't be speaking to them) -- this is what "for all of America" means. We're no longer speaking just to the latte-sipping coastal elites, but to all of America. And lest you think I'm projecting, they're being quite explicit that this is what they mean: Mr. Bezos, the founder of Amazon, has made comments in line with the new mission statement in conversations with Post journalists in recent years, according to two people familiar with those discussions. Mr. Bezos has expressed hopes that The Post would be read by more blue-collar Americans who live outside coastal cities, mentioning people like firefighters in Cleveland. He has also said that he is interested in expanding The Post’s audience among conservatives, the people said. Now nominally, recognizing that conservatives are part of the audience could mean that the Post starts committing to telling them things they don't want to hear. For example, they could be informed, in no uncertain terms, how Trump's tariffs will crush working families with spiraling grocery bills. Or they could be told, in clear-eyed fashion, of how Trump's inner circle is proposing increasingly fascistic and lawless abuses of government power. Or they could be shown, without varnish or spin, how the Republican Party has begun to view sexual assault and rape as virtues in its political leaders -- not even a secret to be ashamed of, but as an affirmative basis for support and promotion. But of course, we all know that is not what Bezos and his cronies have in mind. "Riveting storytelling" suggests that what they want is sensation and soothing -- to reaffirm their (new) readers' priors, never to challenge them with something as dirty and discomforting as the truth. Conservatives can't tolerate hearing that Donald Trump was a grotesquely unsuitable choice for the presidency, and so the Post (even in its editorial endorsements) won't aggravate them. The Post knows that many if not most of Trump's cabinet picks fail the most basic (by the Post's own lights!) criteria of qualification for office in a democratic society -- respecting the outcomes of a democratic process -- and so the Post will just pretend it doesn't matter. The Scholastic Book Fair analogy is more than snark, for this is of a piece with the broader trend of infantilizing the American right. Conservatives, once again, are being treated as children, and spoiled children as that -- whatever junk keeps their attention, that's what will be provided.  A once great newspaper, reduced to an entertaining diversion for spoiled, coddled brats. Maybe the slogan isn't so bad after all. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/lpZWSRu

[bookwormbynight]

hello! as a huge fan of ur works i was inspired to write something of my own but im struggling to get L & light's voices down, in both exposition and dialogue, theyre so tricky! 😭 would you have any tips youre willing to share? 💖💖

Oh my fucking God I'm so flattered I'm going to crumple up into a little ball and die you let me know the second I can read whatever u got going on my dms are open

Here's the biggest single piece of advice I can offer you: can you hear their voice actors read the line you just wrote in your head. That's the one I always end up harkening back to. To get a good sense of this, make sure you know the material. Interpret the way the characters say things and deduce how this adds to the person they are beneath everything explicitly stated or shown. Watch the series a couple times, maybe focusing on episodes that the character you're struggling with features strongly in. That sort of thing. I use this in every fandom I've been in that has voice acting. This applies to exposition as well, although that's always a bit more nebulous and can really come down to personal style.

Character specific... Let's see...

L - Be an asshole. State everything eloquently, but basically as plainly as possible and do not pull any punches. His vocabulary tends to be a bit higher-class than pretty much everyone else in the anime, aside from maybe Watari. Lots of SAT words and synonyms for common words. ("I understand" instead of "got it" like Ryuk would say. But don't overdo it, he still speaks like a human being.) Do not hold back on the snark, he's a fucking dick and even more so when he doesn't have to watch his words for cooperation purposes. If you can fit the occasional pun or two in there, do it, you KNOW the scene where he shows a penchant for wordplay and I'm inclined to believe that wasn't out of left field for him. He's constantly cracking himself up and no one else, and he doesn't care, because any jokes he makes are for him. If Light's involved in the scene, have L fixate on him. In the anime, he's CONSTANTLY poking Light, asking questions, and trying to get him to engage. If I'm translating this into prose, I usually take his POV as the opportunity for the most fucking detailed obsessive descriptions of Light I possibly could want to do. (If L describes literally nothing else about his surroundings and all you can envision is a white room, HE WILL LET YOU KNOW HOW LIGHT'S EYELASHES ARE LOOKING.) He also tends to notice little details about others, to be fair, but far less frequently lol simply because he doesn't give enough of a shit to catalog them.

Light - He's a lot trickier for me, tbh. I'll do my best. He tends to avoid slang, but I don't think he goes out of his way to, and he's not afraid to cuss for emphasis, but otherwise he keeps his mouth clean. Other than that, his word use is very average and unremarkable (he pays a lot of attention to not being noticeably weird, even though he's super hindered in that goal by virtue of the fact that he's a fucking weirdo 😭 he's got most of the superficial stuff down, tho). His emotional thought process (and thereby descriptions) depends on where exactly he is in his Kira journey, sliding scale of arrogant but legit sweetheart to full on Regina George. He is kind of a bitch regardless, but he'll be very very polite if it's good for him to do that. He's a hardcore rationalizer, and sometimes he's right, but sometimes he's dead wrong and deploying it as a defense mechanism, which can affect the prose.

Hope this helps.

[virtuouswhitehatorganization]

I Like To Think Anana Snarked At Some Of These Entries In Miss Heed's Instagram

"Always taking credit from others you egotistical brat."

"The toys might be fine, but whoever is making those burgers they taste like glitter and tofu."

"Psst, frail shrimp couldn't even punch a kitten let alone a behemoth like Coyote."

" It's kind of a shame I really did like how Omega sold that kind hearted hero act more than she's ever done."

" Sure love and a brainwashing formula."

"This should almost count as abuse. I almost feel sorry for two, especially Coyote."

"Nice empty virtue signalling while also shamelessly advertising your upcoming formula, classy"

"Your own community manager!!! You ungrateful spoiled, brat if you managed your own brand it would have gone under in a month!"

"Oh yes, just shows what you can do when you have daddy's money holding you up."

"You really shouldn't be that boastful about showing peeks of your true face."

"Drugging another group of friends of yours but this time with their drinks. Man, even I think there are some nasty connotations there."

"Another day another milestone you haven't honestly or fairly earned."

"I guess you are are going to turn him into another one of your brainwashed followers. Protector of the defenseless as always."

"Huh, these toys always have the most crappiest names."

"Goodie another slave for your science squad which still don't know how to make your formula because you stupidly believe all scientists can magically do anything."

"You really should stop showing peeks of your mask girl or people will grow suspicious."

[kckt88]

Cruel Intentions - SNEAK PEEK!

Summary:

Two brothers who attend an elite university make a bet: to deflower the new dean's daughter before the start of the new semester.

Warning(s): Language, Drug Taking, Slight Homophobic Language, Bet Making, Maniplulation, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex (M & F Receiving), P in V, Safe Sex, Major Character Death.

MODERN AEMOND x O.C

HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THE MOVIE - CRUEL INTENTIONS

Word Count: TBC

Taglist -

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“I accept-now what are the actual terms of the bet?” asked Aemond.

“You know the new dean’s daughter-“

“-Reese Hargrove?” asked Aemond.

“Yeah, that one-little miss prim and proper thinks she too good for anyone, so I say we knock her down a peg or two” replied Aegon.

“-And how do we do that?”

“You will seduce her and then discard her” said Aegon.

“Seriously? That’s too easy-not even remotely enough of a challenge, got one of those moron friends of yours to do it” laughed Aemond.

“Did I mention that she’s a proper daddy’s little princess-“

“Again boring” said Aemond yawning.

“-And a virgin” replied Aegon smirking.

“How’d you know that?” asked Aemond curiously.

“I take it you didn’t read her little manifesto in the University magazine” asked Aegon as he threw a copy onto the glass table.

“Menstrual cramps?” asked Aemond as he glanced at the front cover.

“Shut up and turn to page sixty four” snapped Aegon.

Aemond rolled his eye and picked up the magazine, he flicked through the pages until he found the one, he wanted.

“Why I plan to wait by Reese Hargrove-Jesus christ is she for real?” asked Aemond.

“Oh, she’s daddy’s little angel-a paradigm of chastity and virtue”.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as Aegon ripped the magazine from his grasp.

“Let’s see-boring, boring, boring-I love my parents, boring, boring, boring-making a mature decision-oh here, she has a boyfriend named Trevor, been going out for a year and he understands” said Aegon mockingly.

“Trevors gay” snarked Aemond rolling his eye.

“My point is-you and I have fucked our way through most of the girls at university, which is hardly a challenge anymore”.

“So, all I have to do is fuck her and I win the bet?” asked Aemond.

“Pretty much-but if you’re thinking it’ll be easy then your wrong-” muttered Aegon.

“How do you even know that?

“Remember that up tight chick I told you about over Easter?” said Aegon.

“The one who broke your nose after you tried to finger-wait that was her?” asked Aemond trying to stifle his laughter.

A girl with some bite to her-now this could be interesting.

“Yes, it was her, proper humiliated me in front of everyone so now it’s payback time”.

“So, this bet is just your desperate attempt at getting revenge against a girl who wasn’t interested in you-for fuck sake Aegon” muttered Aemond running a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

“Oh, cut the moral high ground shit brother it doesn’t suit you-or do I need to remind you of the time you fucked your way through all four of the Baratheon sisters in the space of a week”.

“Far point-so I fuck Hargrove and then what?” asked Aemond.

“Providing you have proof of the deed being done, then I’ll let you fuck Alys” replied Aegon.

“What does Alys have to say about all of this-” mused Aemond.

“Well of course I asked her before I discussed things with you, and she agreed-“

“-Just like that?” asked Aemond disbelief.

“We have a semi open relationship remember-as long we tell each other that we want to fuck someone else, then it’s ok. Sometimes we even share” shrugged Aegon.

“Well, I’m not into sharing” growled Aemond.

“Do you seriously think I want to see your bare arse-no thanks. I just meant that me and Alys are open to many forms of expressing ourselves and our love” said Aegon.

“-And you’re ok with her potentially fucking your own brother?”

“You have to win the bet first” laughed Aegon.

“-And if I fail?”

“I get your car which I will make sure to fuck Alys in” quipped Aegon smirking.

“Fine-you’re on” said Aemond holding out his hand.

“There was me thinking you’d need a little more convincing” said Aegon smirking as he shook his brother's hand.

“Thing is, can you imagine what this would do for my reputation? Screwing the new deans daughter before the semester starts” mused Aemond.

“Would be one of your greatest victories-aside from the school nurse that you fucked last year, I’m still surprised they didn’t kick you out for that” said Aegon reaching for his silver cross necklace and pulling away the end.

The white power lingering on the small scoop spilled over the edge as Aegon lifted it to his nose and inhaled it in one sharp breath.

“Speaking of getting kicked out-if mum and dad see you doing that again, they will go crazy, they told you last time that there were no more chances” said Aemond.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them-besides you need to start making nice with Reese”.

“I suppose this would make an interesting chapter”.

“Oh, gee your journal, could you be any more queer?” said Aegon.

“Could you be more desperate to read it” smirked Aemond, his grip tightening around his leather bound journal.

“I would say good luck brother-you’re going to need it-besides it might be worth mentioning that you only have a limited time in which to get Hargrove into bed” replied Aegon.

“What do you mean?”

“Her father’s preoccupied with getting ready for the new semester, so Reese is staying at our aunt’s place for a few weeks, but I also know that she’ll be spending the last two weeks of summer break at her grandmothers-so that means you’ve only got four weeks to win the bet” said Aegon.

“FUCK” exclaimed Aemond as he turned on his heel and left the room.

[eijakushingomel]

The Blue Confrontation

You gritted your teeth, spear drawn out as you were ready for battle. Both Pure Vanilla and White Lily had readied their staff and spells, one for protection while another for attack. The Ancient Heroes stepped in front of Gingerbrave and friends while you stepped in front of Pure Vanilla. The knights covered the group with their shields and respective spears and swords.

There, where all weapons and blades aimed stood tall the infamous Beast with its devilish grin. You cluck your tongue in displeasure. So this was what to be the virtue of knowledge, and had fallen to deceit. Huh, it was terrifyingly big and clearly hold enormous power, but its face could never beat Pure Vanilla.

Seriously. This guy was supposed to be Pure Vanilla's predecessor?

"Awwwww~, look at the number of audiences I have today!" It (he?) cheered. His hands clasped on his cheeks in a dramatic way, as he peered down to you and your friends. You make sure to shield Pure Vanilla properly, despite him being taller than you. "Aw, why so tense? Are you that scared of me?"

"Yes, we very much are," you could imagine Wizard Cookie's snark reply in your head. Hopefully, he didn't say it out loud.

"Now, now, don't be so shy. I'm the one who's about to do performance here," he sang while slowly spinning around on one foot. His arms were wide open as if he were balancing while trying to keep afloat. "So grab a seat, while the stage—," he paused, eyes of different blue shots open and rows of sharp teeth revealed, "—is on SET!"

Magically, your surroundings shifted to something completely different. No longer there was dark grass below you, nor the silver cracked tree was in presence. The sky was pitch black with no clouds or stars, as if you were in complete void. You heard numerous gasps from different cookies, each holding their own shock and anticipation. You glanced at Pure Vanilla, sighed in relief when he was still behind you. But the expression he wielded was concerning.

His eyes, the same pair of eyes you had long admired, were wide open in fear. He scanned around, as if in disbelieving. It was as if, as if—

—he could see.

Dread filled you in in an instant.

Pure Vanilla was blind. But not at magic. At least, that was what you learned in your time together with him. He couldn't see and required the eye on his staff to measure everything around him. It was also another reason why you admired him so much back when he was still Healer Cookie.

But for him to be able to see the magic clearly around him, only explained more how stronger this Beast of Deceit was.

As if knowing what both you and Pure Vanilla had realized, his grin stretched to an unnatural smile. He lurched forward, causing all of you to take a fight stance when he suddenly paused. You were confused, but the confusion flared to protectiveness when you followed his line of gaze. He was staring at Pure Vanilla, much to your dislike, specifically, his Soul Jam.

And it clicked.

You hold your spear tighter as you move closer to Pure Vanilla, shielding him with your body. He seemed displease at your disregard towards your own life, but that was not in your priority. You wanted him to stay alive. It was bad enough for him to be ready to sacrifice his own Powder of Life to White Lily, so he had no right to talk to you about risking your life.

The Beast was staring intently at the Ancient Hero. Mercury Knight was about to say some few, knightly words when numerous blue eyes plopped out from the darkness and peered down to all of you. You were also distracted by the eyes, that you failed to see an incoming vine hand lunged forward and snatched Pure Vanilla away.

"Vanilla!" White Lily and Gingerbrave shouted his name.

"PV!" you screamed, ready to chase after him if Silverbell didn't block you.

"My my my," Shadow Milk purred, picked Pure Vanilla between his fingers and lifted him slightly above the Fallen Hero's head. "What an extraordinaire we have here today. A little cookie," he pulled the healer closer to his countenance, sharp teal eyes stared at the gem on his robe, "with a piece of me?"

Pure Vanilla looked conflicted on what to say. Understandable, because it wasn't everyday for a cookie to get pick up by a giant cookie who was infamous for causing havoc back in the olden days.

"Hey you!" You snarled, "Let go of him!"

But the monster ignored you. He was much more intrigued with the hero in his hand, much to your fear. He was inspecting Pure Vanilla left to right like he was checking out an item. It anger you how he treated your beloved like that.

"It's me...yet not. As if," the monster's dual coloured eyes widened in newfound understanding, and Ehite Lily paled in dread matched Pure Vanilla's blanched face, "...it had been purified."

His smile dropped.

Silence.

An intense silence with thick atmosphere.

None of you was sure what to do. You hated it, but you pretty much relied on White Lily for this. But even the Ancient Hero seemed unsure on how to proceed in this situation.

Then, the end of Shadow Milk's lips curled upward. The two fingers that were picking the healer let go, and as fast as you could, you tried to be there to catch him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, as fast as he was let go, as fast as for another giant hand caught him again. This time, holding in a full envelope of five fingers.

Much to all of you and your friends' horror, the Fallen Hero hold him with both hands and hugged him close to his gigantic head.

(You understood though why he did that. If you were a giant cookie and found tiny Pure Vanilla, you too would snuggle him all day long. The real cookie had always been better than the plushie you had at home)

"Oh! How lovely! How splendid!" The cold-blooded creature beamed, "I got something to be called mine!"

Gingerbrave's jaw dropped and Wizard Cookie scrunched his face. "Excuse me?"

Once again, ignored by the monster's enlightenment. He spun around with Pure Vanilla in his grasp, either oblivious or ignorance towards the smaller cookie's panicked yelp. He was like a school girl getting a new doll.

"Oh who knows in today's performance, I'll also be getting—," he halted, and lifted Pure Vanilla in his hands like he was showing something magnificent (well, PV had always been great) to the world, "—a son!"

"WHAT?!" White Lily screeched, the loudest she had ever been.

You mouth gaped open. You did not expect that. "What?"

Strawberry Cookie dropped her hammer. "What?"

Gingerbrave slipped on nothing and fell on his back. "What?"

The fae knights each looked as pale as paper.

Wizard Cookie looked disappointed in everything. "I've been handling Reader's simpness for so long nothing in this Earthbread shocks me any longer."

That was rude.

Pure Vanilla, for once, looked like he was either to commit homicide, or suicide, or both.

"A-are we hearing that right?" Gingerbrave turned ti anybody in his team. You had froze like a statue, so you were out from replying in the moment.

Wizard Cookie sighed, "Yup."

Strawberry Cookie twitched, "...he knows right you can't just adopt someone. Especially not someone like Pure Vanilla..."

"Strawberry, you do know right we're talking about Shadow Milk here?" Wizard Cookie deadpanned.

"Ah."

While they were discussing that, you were frozen to bits. White Lily seemed ready to retort but her concern for Pure Vanilla was still there. Nobody, not even you, didn't know how to react to the sudden declaration made by one of the Five Beasts. Because seriously, how can you react to this?

Wait, does that mean you must ask Shadow Milk's permission for Pure Vanilla's hand in marriage?

....

....

Well, elope it was.

"Guys?" Pure Vanilla desperately called out. He too, was beyond confused. Shadow Milk kept crushing their cheeks together, and it wasn't comfortable at all.

Witches, he should have given the Soul Jam to Clotted Cream Cookie before they depart. Now here he was, in this torturous crushing embracement that forever he felt uncomfortable in. None of his friends or the knights seemed to hear his plead, and the Beast had been going on the hug even when Pure Vanilla had repeatedly trying to push him off with magic.

When he was starting to lose hope, there, you snapped and came in.

"HEY YOU BEAST!" you shouted with a newfound determination in your gaze. Spear aimed directly at the giant cookie.

Cookies around you gasped in awe at the courage, while Pure Vanilla looked at you with growing hope. Shadow Milk still hadn't stop smothering him and it was a torture.

"YOU BETTER LET PV GO NOW, OR ELSE!"

But the monster remained indifferent towards your declaration. Gingerbrave growled and White Lily wilted.

"He isn't listening to us...," she murmured.

You huffed, "That's fine. An elopement is always a choice."

Cracked.

Was it just you (not like you minded) or was the void surrounding them seemed to crack? Not only that, the eyes that had been on Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla suddenly darted towards you. Its pupils shrunken and thinned to an aggressive line.

Shadow Milk stopped his snuggling (read : assault). The jester turned his head in cinematic slow movement, and his different hues of eyes stared down at you.

"....what?"

Pure Vanilla, who also heard that, was oblivious to the blatant meaning of your statement, "Uh, what?"

Mercury Knight understandly looked upset, "Are you seriously proposing right now?"

Pure Vanilla choked on his own spit, "P-propose?"

White Lily wanted to bury herself again, "Oh dear, why?"

Gingerbrave blanched, "Did he really react only after he heard the word 'elopement'?"

"I don't know. You'd be mad too if some stranger wants to elope with your kid," Wizard Cookie shrugged.

Strawberry Cookie glared at him, "He just met Vanilla less than a moment ago!"

"And he created so many havoc enough to get imprison by the Witches," the mage said, "Why are you trying to understand a maniac's way of thinking?"

Both cookies flattered. None of them refute his words.

Wizard Cookie took a deep breath, and spun around to looked at you and the dreadful beast. He raised his staff and pointed at you, "We got no choice but to leave our hope to her simpness to save Pure Vanilla—wow I never thought I'd say it — from the Beast of Deceit!"

"What is this?" Strawberry Cookie was an octave away from screeching, "A Simp Versus Overprotective Father?"

Wizard Cookie shrugged again, "That."

Gingerbrave added in, "Or A Simp Versus Crazy Overprotective Father."

"That too."

Honestly, you were offended they called you that. But at least it was nice knowing they had trust in your capability.

Because you will be giving all you got, to get Pure Vanilla Cookie's hand in marriage.

(Ah, Pure Vanilla looked so cute and angelic already in his usual robe. The thought of him in white suit will certainly fly you to cloud nine.)

"...guys?" Pure Vanilla silently wept, "Are you seriously ignoring me?"

♧♧♧♧♧♧

Lolololol I had fun making this. Shadow Milk was so hard to wrote, but I tried my best. Writing Gingerbrave, Strawberry and Wizard had been fun though.

In many fics I read about Reader and Shadow Milk were all fun and unique in its own way. I even got a few favourites of mine. But I want to write a fic where Reader was the one who obsessed with a cookie. It was fun and gave me a unique experience.

Shadow Milk :*sees PV*

Shadow Milk : Does no one want that?

Reader : Uh, he's with me—

Shadow Milk :*slapped you and ran away with PV*

Lol. PV really didn't have a say in this.

I love making this.

Please give me an idea for the next fic, I may or not use it, but a suggestions are always welcomed!

[wakingfromthewater]

Years ago I learned that one reason high control religious groups like the Jehovah's Witnesses send people out to proselytize on the street is specifically so that their members will have negative interactions with outsiders. If group members are being told that the outside/secular world is immoral, cruel, etc and the only escape from that is the group, sending members out to get at best ignored aggressively and at worst yelled at or flipped off helps reinforce that. I've also read stuff by people who have left high control groups, even ones that don't make their members proselytize, that have talked about how either negative experiences in the outside world or just the unknown made it difficult for them to leave even when they wanted out.

Anyway, Instagram recommends me videos from women in high control religious groups, mostly tradcaths, bragging about how submissive and obedient they are to their husbands. The comments are always full of snark which frankly, go off but because they don't seem to be reaching a supportive or swayable audience I can't help but wonder if it's just a digital version of this. They get to display virtues that are celebrated in their group, and the negative reaction reinforces their allegiance to it. (And, frankly, in groups where women aren't really supposed to be in public life they can do it from their own home, it's win win win!). I'm not saying anyone should be leaving supportive comments or anything, just maybe don't engage at all.

[messiahzzz]

oc meme

tagged by: @galedekarios. thank uu hun 💕

B A S I C S

- Full name: Caoimhee ("beloved, gentle, kind, graceful") Laira (“soul, spirit, light”) Thirfaen (“wandering, drifting”). Previously Ahren (“mountain of strength”)-Sgéin (“achiever of greatness”) - Gender: Female - Sexuality: Demi/Pansexual - Pronouns: She/her

O T H E R

- Family: Ahren-Sgéin, farmers and merchants -> Father: Eduard Sgéin -> Mother: Julianna Ahren -> Adoptive Mother/Caretaker: Rauha Thirfaen - Birthplace: Greenest - Job: Archivist - Records management + Preservation - Phobias: Athazagoraphobia, Catagelophobia, Cleithrophobia, Phonophobia - particularly the sound of marbles - Guilty pleasures: Coming up with new culinary atrocities, poofy dresses, word scrambles, murder mysteries & trashy novels (less guilty on the last one) - Hobbies: Reading/writing, history, poetry, collecting, arts & crafts (quilling, embroidery, jewelry making, sculpturing)

M O R A L S

- Alignment: Neutral Good - Sins: Sloth, Envy - Virtues: Prudence, Humility, Reliability, Compassion

T H I S  O R  T H A T

- Introvert / Extrovert - Organized / Disorganized (on both ends of the spectrum simultaneously) - Close-minded / Open-minded - Calm / Anxious / Restless - Disagreeable / Agreeable / In between - Cautious / Reckless / In between - Patient / Impatient / In between - Outspoken / Reserved / In between - Leader / Follower / Flexible - Empathetic / Unempathetic / In between - Optimist / Pessimist / Realist - Traditional / Modern / In between - Hard-working / Lazy (she contains multitudes)

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

- OTP: Gale/Caoimhee — Best friends. Birds of a Feather. Soulmates. - Acceptable Ships: None - OT3: None - Brotp: Yes -> Karlach/Caoimhee — Caoimhee is the yin to Karlach’s yang, they balance each other out perfectly. Caoimhee relishes in Karlach’s impulsivity, go-getter attitude, and particular brand of chaos, while her rational and reflective input helps Karlach with navigating her restlessness and staying grounded. Both are very protective of each other. -> Shadowheart/Caoimhee — They relate to each other on a deep level, even with differing circumstances. Caoimhee greatly appreciates Shadowheart’s snark and dry humor, as well as the kind heart underneath. While Shadowheart is pleasantly surprised by Caoimhee’s patience and understanding, deeming her a calming and trustworthy presence. They continue to seek each other out for advice. - Notp: Any combination that isn’t Gale/Caoimhee

tagging: @promakodriver, @say-lene, @ra-scheln, @senualothbrok, @dreamingofthewild, @villainanders, @laserlope, @eilistraaee, @tinleafart, @leofrith and anyone else who wants to do this!

[danggirlronpa]

Hey hey, I'm new here, so I don't know EXACTLY how this works, but I saw some other people requesting ship headcanons, so if it's not too much trouble...

Irumaki headcanons? Maybe?

its 2:30 am going into a saturday. its finally time. for the Headcanon Asks Backlog.

I believe I made a post abt this previously at one point but I'm OBSESSED with an AU where Miu makes Maki's fun assassination gadgets and slowly Miu's snark about breaking her tools becomes genuine, highly repressed care & worry for the constant danger Maki is in, culminating in Maki being left for dead after getting captured and Miu abandoning the group & their funds & all her work in order to save this girl she didn't even CARE about, who's never smiled even once at her, and who, despite it all, Miu desperately wants to see again

back 2 canon. Maki accidentally doms the hell out of Miu solely by virtue of existing. Maki goes "shut up" and Miu becomes a puddle on the ground. Miu walks into Maki's talent lab at one point, sees Maki practicing with a whip, and faints on the spot

THEY ALSO...WOULD BE PARENTS. THEY WOULD LOVE TO BE MARRIED AND HAVE A HAPPILY EVER AFTER. kids LOVE maki she used to play house to take care of them as a kid and she still has a natural way with them! miu takes to monotaro as her son with more enthusiasm and care than anything else we see in the game!! BOTH OF THEIR LOVE HOTEL EVENTS ARE ABOUT HAVING CHILDREN AND BUILDING A HOME TOGETHER WITH A CHILDHOOD FRIEND. DO YOU SEE MY VISION

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #10 – The Last Graduate by Naomi Novik

I read A Deadly Education last year and quite enjoyed it (and Novik’s unrelated Spinning Silver is just one of my favourite low fantasy books full stop so she has quite a bit of my trust), so I finally got around to putting in a hold request for the sequel. Broadening your horizons and reading outside your comfort zone means swimming through 400 pages of YA a couple times a year, right? Anyway, despite only barely remembering who anyone but El and Orion were when I went into this, was a fun read!

The book picks up more or less directly where A Deadly Education stops – with the horrible murderous monster-infested extradimensional wizard high school’s cleansing machinery repaired for the first time in generations, and the place therefor incredibly less monster-infested than previously. El, prophesied future dark lady of the apocalypse with a savant’s talent for specifically the sort of magic you cast after cackling and before someone puts a sword in you, doesn’t get to enjoy that much – her senior year seems destined to be spent being the target of just about every monster that’s left. Eventually you really have to wonder if the school is trying to kill you – and that question is where the plot really starts to go off.

So I said it before, but this is very much YA. I don’t mean that as an insult, or even a marker of quality, just that it’s a book from the perspective of a 17 year old looking down the end of high school and clearly written to provide a relatable emotional reality for an assumed audience of the same. So El sometimes acts like a cartoon character, and is pathologically incapable of expressing her emotions coherently or expressing affection for the guy she likes in any sane manner, and is far more blase about murder attempts and soul-eating monsters than emotionally awkward conversations – but honestly all that just rings as pretty true to life. Deeply aggravating at times, and her internal monologue and all its snark and doublethink does occasionally grate a bit, but overall it really works. She’s just a fun character to spend time in the head of, (and far less irritating in basically every way than she was in the last book. So hey, maturity!).

The emotional beats were all pretty simple and clearly telegraphed, and it isn’t exactly a book that requires you to sit down and ponder deep symbolism or metaphor to comprehend, but the pacing is tight and it’s very readable. The prose isn’t really anything to write home about – especially knowing what Novik can do when she decides to get fancy and show off a bit – but it very clear and just dripping with El’s personality on every page. I read this at the same time as I was picking through an incredibly dense and citation-heavy historical reader, and the contrast made me very appreciative of those virtues.

Character-wise – well, there’s El, and Orion (love interest, single-minded and near divinely-ordained monster hunter, golden boy of the most powerful enclave in the world), and there’s El’s few close friends, and then there’s a cast of dozens of students with maybe one memorable character trait who kind of drift in and out of the narrative as required. The amount of nuance and exploration someone gets drops off dramatically with each step down the list you go. Most of the cast shows up precisely when required and is more or less forgotten about directly afterwards – which does sell this being a school with over a thousand students in it! But the number of characters who really feel real drops off pretty rapidly.

(Also like, I assume it just comes down to social progress in the 2010s coming at you fast, but you really get the sense that at some point between the books getting written the publishers sent down a memo that you were allowed to say queer people existed now.)

Even more than Deadly Education, this is a book without any sort of singular villain, or even really any consistent antagonists. Some of the other students are assholes, sure, but the book’s whole thesis is that no one is that murderous or awful for the sake of it – they are because they’re rats in a cage, convinced that amoral self-interest and husbanding and acquiring every resource they can is the only hope they have of maybe living to see their families again. Offered a chance to do good, to actually change things for the better and help everyone without getting themselves killed in the process, just about everyone takes it. Even the semi-intelligent school itself gets in on it by the end, pressing the senior class to figure something out and make it obsolete – and the whole conflict of the final act is how and whether everyone will.

El and Orion can both kill basically arbitrarily large numbers of monsters (or people), so the monster-killing is never really where the book finds its drama either. I mean, both do a lot of it through the climax, but the actual tension mostly comes down to crowd management and logistics and whether everyone else is as committed to this as the two of them are.

As for what they’re struggling against – so like, this isn’t Divergent, by the standards of the YA I read in high school, the social commentary is both subtle and nuanced. But I mean, it’s also a story where highschool is four years or murder-hell-prison and justified only because it’s barely the lesser of two evils, and also a story where the poor and marginalized are only kept around more-or-less explicitly as ablative bodies for the kids the powers that be care about, with their only hope of good life being so impressive and useful to those kids that they try to bring them along when they ascend back up to the gilded paradise that is their birthright. So like, not that subtle.

As far as teenage romances go (which, for me, really isn’t very fair at all), El and Orion’s was surprisingly tolerable. It helps that they’re both actually deeply profoundly weird about it, and also that the book didn’t try to milk any drama out of will-they/won’t-they stuff or a love triangle. The ‘and they have sex for the first time the night before the final climactic struggle where one or both of them could very well die’ did feel right out of an old bioware game, though. (Also I’m just a sucker for tragedy and ironic mirroring/repetition, so the ending was great for me).

Look forward to finishing the series whenever I get around to it sometime in the fall.

[fandom-hoarder]

A lot of people seem to be taking that "s1 sam is kinda spoiled" post as wank and sam negative/dean glorifying and... idk if I'm just reading it wrong, but I didn't take it that way AT ALL, and seeing people pop off upset over it is weird rn. I'm kinda reeling. It's just...commentary on s1 dynamic? Yeah 'spoiled' is not exactly the term I would've used, but I didn't take it as a negative like others apparently have??

Bratty, somewhat self centered S1-Sam is my beloved. Because he has to be that way. Because he doesn't have all the info --and that's not his fault, and it was self preservation to want out of that life, but the fact remains that some of the things Sam doesn't KNOW he doesnt know gives him space to BE self centered. Most young people are self centered in some way -- this is not a moral judgement; it's how brains work. And Sam HAD to be self centered, because he was so often responsible for himself.

Sam being alone a lot does not negate the ways his family sheltered and babied him, though. Some people also seem upset about this word choice, as if it means Sam had it easy and didn't have to deal with the trauma of hunting life -- um, NO, that is not what I mean. When people shelter and baby someone, it hampers their agency. Life is multifaceted that way. The reasons for doing it may come out of deep love -- in spn it's a combination of misguided love AND emotional self protection that lead both John and Dean to not tell Sam key things about their life. Even so, Sam not having all the information DOES affect his behavior -- even his snark -- but because of the baby of the family effect, s1 Sam isn't even aware of some of the ways Dean tried to protect him by omission; has seemingly never considered there's things about Dean he doesn't know, or aspects to situations he wasn't aware of at the time -- things that may have, in his own opinion, changed how he reacted to Dean about it.

Maybe it's the part about Dean sheltering Sam from truths 'the way a mother would' that has everyone really upset. I think the post took liberties with their read of parentified Dean there, but I still enjoy the idea that some things Dean never told Sam was him trying to preserve some vestiges of Sam's innocence. Liking/exploring that idea doesn't have to mean thinking Dean was a selfless paragon of motherly virtues or whatever. C'mon, y'all -- nuance.

[quirkthieves]

speaking of....

On the topic of Monoma & Kindness...

It goes without saying that Monoma is a hog for attention. Regardless of if it's from him or another character, this trait of his is fairly frequented commented on. And he's quite successful at it, from positive applications like his ability to completely divert the audience's attention during their school play, or, more commonly, with the more combative application of his 6/6 Provocateur stat. In battle, you could argue that it stems from his philosophy that he has to act unheroically to become a hero and his resignation to the role of a side character, but the same behavior leeches into his personal and academic life to an extreme degree. Negative attention is better than no attention.

But unlike characters like Bakugou, for Monoma, the currency of attention is still "won" when it''s given to his classmates. Bis personality is listed as "kind to his allies", and we never really see him provoke his classmates. When Tokage apologizes for losing the match, he comforts her, he compliments his teammates during their exercises, and he offers constructive criticism to others. We even know there are members of his class who scold him (such as Kaibara and Kinoko saying they'll snitch when he messes up and gives everyone the wrong shrooms, or Kendou and Awase chopping him, etc) or actively dislike him (like Yui), but he never at any point fails to extol their virtues or reciprocates that dislike. In fact, although he makes the occasional complaint about Kendou's chops, he's aghast at the suggestion made by Midoriya, Iida, and Kirishima that they may be abusive in nature, and excitedly runs to her side when she comes to collect him from their well-intentioned accosting.

And he's still not socially rejected from the class. They take what he says in training as valuable criticism, during their play, his classmates note his superb acting abilities, but say they "won't compliment him because it may inflate his ego", they participate in his games and competitions with 1-A, it's said often that his classmates believe overall he means well, and Tetsutetsu notes that without Kendou, he may have won the class over entirely. Even though certain members like Bondo or Fukidashi may not participate in the snark to the same extent as the others, Monoma's relationship with the group he's most comfortable with and most eager to defend and lift up is one that is defined by a one-sided friendly ribbing and occasional butting of heads.

We see this with Shinsou, too; Monoma, when approaching him for friendship, is entirely unbothered by the fact that Shinsou is somewhat aloof and actively disagrees with him at times. He's comfortable enough with this attitude for him to open up about his past and personal philosophy, and his first impression when Shinsou says that he's not here to make friends and that they're all obstacles is "I like this guy." In the light novels, Monoma even goes out of his way to help prepare a very thoughtful and well-organized room in the dorms for Shinsou, just in case he joins Class 1-B. For all intents and purposes, Monoma sees Shinsou as a friend, even though Shinsou doesn't appear to share the same level of enthusiastic "giving".

But what does Shinsou say that does give Monoma pause? He openly expresses that he wants to rely on Monoma as a key part of the plan. A comment and role that one would assume attention-hungry Monoma would eat up is one that is immediately met with the sentiment of "don't get your hopes up." Statements like "I can't do anything on my own" and "I'm just a side character" all express a similar concept: "I'm not good enough to do what others do." Despite his classmates' assumption that his ego would swell too much if complimented, Monoma seems entirely resigned to personally being a lesser category of person.

But let's put a pin in this and shift focus to how he treats those he doesn't like. Naturally, he sees himself as an extension of the "unit" that is Class B, and so he views Class A the same way, regardless of the individual personalities within. Bakugou's speech calling everyone else "extras" was a slight against his classmates (and not himself, seeing as we know he does consider himself one), and so all of Class A have become active participants in this indignation and are hogging the spotlight away from those he cares about. Again, Monoma is an excellent provocateur, and he makes active and indiscriminate use of this skill. He says some out of pocket shit, and will even continue this behavior when it may be hypocritical or otherwise disadvantageous for him to do so. He never once seeks validation from them, but he sure does go after their attention just about every single time they cross paths, and the success in doing so is rewarding enough for him to continue doing it over and over, even when the end result is usually failure or a scolding of some sort. Nobody does anything for no reason, even if that reason is subconscious-- and he seems to be having fun when he does it! This is a game for him! It is a relationship he has both defined and is comfortable with, and it is inherently competitive if not hostile in nature. Earning Class A's annoyance, anger, and the attention therewith is his reward for pushing the big red PROVOKE button in his brain. And it's not like Monoma does this with everybody he doesn't know-- he attaches himself to Shinsou quickly, and there's a gag in smash about how "if Monoma's opponents are weaker than him, he becomes confused and goes into stand by mode". This call and response system is for a very specific relationship with very specific people. And no matter what, so long as they respond within the confines of that system, he's fine, even if it comes at his active detriment.

So, what happens when people act off-script? When Kirishima, Iida, and Midoriya are trying to find out the truth on if Kendou's chops are abusive, they have the class treat monoma with an uncharacteristic kindness he can't necessarily fight, but it's clear across the span of the evening he's becoming increasingly uncomfortable and even frightened. He tries to escape at some point, and when they won't let him leave, he eventually melts down and becomes completely unresponsive until Kendou arrives, to which he exclaims he's glad to see her and rushes to her side. And in a later chapter, when Monoma goes through the effort of putting together a fake cursed dvd The Ring-style featuring All Might and challenges Class A to a test of courage, the only points Class A scores is when they get Monoma flustered by having Denki and Midoriya smile and thank him for putting in all this effort and how Midoriya will treasure the DVD, with him proclaiming that that wasn't his intention at all.

In the first instance, Monoma's meltdown is accompanied by his internal monologue, which is about how Class A must be planning something and how he can't figure out what it is, but that surely something must be going on behind the scenes, even though he's smart enough and emotionally intelligent enough to know that Midoriya, Kirishima, and Iida are all-around aboveboard types. And I think that's where all of this, both friend and foe, stems from.

Monoma just doesn't trust people. Despite the nature of his quirk, his cooperation stat is listed at a measly 2/5. His low self-worth and understanding that he has built an unlikeable persona makes him believe that there is nobody on Earth that would treat him with genuine, bare-faced kindness, and so the most comfortable friendly relationships he builds comes with not only the expectation of but the desire for some mild one-sided aggression. It is simply easier to believe that a friend who expresses their gripes with you to your face is more likely to be genuine than someone who appears too innocent to be true, and the humiliation of having been tricked a la "my friend has a crush on you" is too much for him to bear. He'd much rather get the attention he craves on his own terms, regardless of the consequences.

And this goes doubly for people he has sought to define a combative relationship with. Class 1-A should hate him. There is no way they would offer genuine niceties without it being a trick, because Monoma has made himself so unpalatable. He's constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when he can't figure out how or when it will (because they're just being nice), he panics more than he ever has in the face of a villain. When his intentions are taken and twisted into something that might re-define the relationship, he becomes so flustered that he feels his only option is to flee and try again later, even though in situations where he's simply receiving aggressive pushback he will persist until physically stopped. And this oppressive and irrational paranoia all comes back to his personal belief that he is simply not good enough to be like the "strong".

And naturally, because my Monoma's main verse is one in which he's Toga's half-brother, I'm going to be drawing comparisons here so be prepared to get heavily into the realm of headcanon teehee

Both Monoma and Toga want, more than anything, is to be close to other people and get the attention and affection they have been denied. Monoma's love manifested with an obsessive separation anxiety that made it imperative to try and get him used to being alone, and Toga's love manifested with an intensity and fixation on violence that made it imperative to discourage and suppress blood-seeking behavior.

And they only really fed into each other; Monoma let Toga act on her urges because pain was preferable to rejection, and Toga had her belief reaffirmed that her love was normal and that anyone who really cared about her would indulge it, and ergo, the rest of the world had rejected her.

As they got older, the pressure to behave normally in society further discouraged these behaviors.

For Monoma, humiliation, rejection, and isolation from his peers fueled a distrust of others, especially regarding matters close to the heart; his quirk, his dreams, his needs...instead, he decided to resign himself to his role and fulfill his need for affection with negative feedback instead. So long as you're thinking of him, he's winning. Mutual obsession that's on his terms is worth the pain invoked by the consequences. He is, whether you like it or not, still a character in the cast, and he is allowed time on the stage so long as he can keep up the act.

Toga, too, has decided to live on her own terms, albeit to a much more dangerous end. Whereas Monoma has decided to define himself within society, she has designated herself outside of it.

Toga's disappearance really only worsened Monoma's paranoia around machinations that aren't his own and reinforced the idea that there really is nobody in this world willing to give kindness to him freely. He still doesn't understand why she attacked someone and left, and that upsets him-- along with the fact that he was left behind. Not worth so much as a goodbye. Some strange boy in her class was more important than he was, even though he had put her at the forefront of everything, and he had no idea.

So when it comes to his class, he's willing to give everything and expect nothing. He's unlikeable anyway. At least when they make jokes at his expense, it's to his face, yeah?