#by making people not want to kill themselves

[eldritch-spouse]

Reader who’s in Sybastian’s labyrinth and is tired and horny. They decide if they’re going to go out they are going to at least relive themselves so they hop on a bed and get to it. The bed seems weirdly shaky to them but they just assume it’s that they’re just getting really into it. (Un)fortunately for them the mimiced bed decided it wasn’t going to kill this human I mean if you expose your self to him you have to be their mate!

[Fem reader]

TW: Dubious consent; Mentions of gore; Excessive drool; Squirting.

Sybastian spared you little thought at first.

It only took a few months of participating in Vinnel's game to understand how to profile his catches a lot better. He knows who the clever ones will be, the troublemakers that kick and bite, the overly paranoid, and the ones that are so incredibly stupid he almost feels gross getting rid of them.

You didn't fit into any category, when Sybastian first saw you, his mind lumped you into the "standard" group and he moved on to the assumed challenging targets.

This hunt has singlehandedly made the mimic question his own profiling skills.

First, he mistakes the smartass for someone who actually knows what he's doing, and manages to tear into him in no time. Then, a girl who froze at the sight of him actually managed to make him trip, alerting the whole group.

He's had to try to catch the same people several times just because he's failed so drastically in his attempts to gouge their attitudes, and he's sure the jester is cackling behind his many screens upstairs, relaying Syb's failures to the audience like a verbal paddling.

Naturally at this point, Sybastian was wrong about you too.

Because he sure as shit didn't expect you to be the last one standing.

That's not all though. Not only are you the cream of this crop, your savvy side seemed to completely expire as soon as you realized everyone had perished. It's as if you deflated.

Yet, instead of crouching down in a corner to scream your lungs out, or crawling under somewhere to pretend you can hide forever, or simply start pounding at the doors until your nails chip into pieces...

You pace the bedroom where Sybastian disguises himself as a bed. Back and forth, silent footsteps on a carpeted floor. You were smart to discard your footwear and avoid the wooden floors, Lord knows they're made to creak at the slightest miscalculation.

He couldn't help but wonder what was in his prey's mind.

Now that he can see you a little closer, you're one of those pretty humans. At least, the ones he thinks are prettier. The kind he likes to pet on their hair and run his fingers all over. Pretty thing with pretty meaty thighs and a juicy ass. He didn't quite know if he wanted to bite you or lash his tongue against every crevice of skin he could see. It was good that you were the last one, the others weren't as nice-looking.

What could you possibly be thinking of, in that moment? So concentrated, so serious, he could almost have fooled himself into thinking you were on the cusp of hatching a plan.

He didn't think it'd be this...

He didn't think you'd take off your pants. Could hardly believe his concealed eyes when you laid upon him, giving him a spectacular view of your panty-covered goods before he felt the softness of your skin on him.

He shuddered, but if you noticed, it didn't stop you from getting comfortable, adjusting your underwear and playing with yourself.

Sybastian has been sweating for a while now. He hopes you're dumb enough to think the sudden moisture is sweat from your little session. Truth of the matter is that mimic has never had this happen to him. He's never had someone sit on him while in disguise and start masturbating.

Sure, he's been a bench to a few couples drunkenly making out, but it doesn't last long before he's got at least one of them in his jaws.

Nevertheless, this has proved to be a special kind of arousing to the mimic, who relishes the feedback of your movement and desperately tries to shift the position of his eyes so he can get a better view. He's daring enough to catch a glimpse between the sheets you crumpled, locked into the motion of your fingers as you dip an index and middle digit into a wet cunt and clumsily circle your clit with the remaining hand.

You seem rushed, desperate, trying your damndest to rip an orgasm out of yourself for reasons that he can't understand. None of Santi's fluids were utilized in the making of today's traps, so it's not as if you're in an incubus-induced frenzy. He's perplexed, but far from complaining.

Is it that you want him to find you? What a little freak you are, waiting for the big bad thing that's been picking you all off one by one to show itself...

He wonders what you'd do if he rushed into this room, if he wasn't the very bed you're being depraved on. Would you lift your ass and invite him, beg him to please have mercy? Hoping and praying that maybe the offer of your gorgeous body could keep him subdued, could distract him. Cute as you are, not a bad strategy, he'd say.

Syb makes a rumble of delight when the first sounds start tumbling out your lips. Little stressed mewls and gasps that have him this close to losing his mind. Somewhere in his modified form, the monster's cock swells and his need starts to become unbearable. He was never the master of self-control, these games just drive him that much wilder. Drool seeps to the ground when his long, gross tongue peeks beneath the mattress. Sybastian slowly allows his arms to emerge from under the bed, giving them more and more mass while they reach upwards.

With your eyes closed in focused pleasure, you could never hope to see those claws hovering in the air, inches from making contact. The mimic is swift to lock one of said hands around your throat, keeping you pinned to the faux mattress by the neck. The scream he assumes you were going to belt out becomes no more than a surprised cough.

Naturally, he expects the following tantrum. Flailing like a fish out of water, your shrill noises of confusion and terror only excite him further, though the mimic is patient, allowing you to tire yourself out for the time being, rumbling lowly like an engine on standby. Eventually, much to his liking, your motions slow down, vastly due to the realization that the monstrous hand around your neck is static. You breathe rapidly on him, body still overheated and wet.

Syb's reward is a softer hold of the vital location, his remaining hand shamelessly groping the leg closest to it. He doesn't let you have any time to think or react, because one second he's rubbing your thigh, the next he's cupping your belly and slipping fingers between your soaked cuntlips, grabbing you quite literally by the core.

He's excited and rough, able to hear your prior terrorized noises turn into confusion and discomfort. An improvement, in his opinion. Sybastian brushes your clitoris more accidentally than purposely, and the reflexive squirm of your legs paired with the whimper that you let out is what makes him lose composure.

Your poor body nearly tumbles to the carpet when the very furniture you laid on transforms before your eyes, into a looming, lanky monster with a purple chest for head, rows of misaligned teeth decorating the edges of that maw, gangly arms just as long as his legs protruding from it. He makes sure to not let you fall face first, but that might have been a bad idea, because when your doe eyes lock with his acidic yellow ones, you scream again.

Sybastian only tilts his head. It'd be pretty funny if you started running now. He'd have to go after you with an erection, with isn't very comfortable, but it'd be entertaining.

Instead, you shakily crawl back, hues widening like saucers when he brings his own stained fingers to his giant maw and calmly laps the traces of slick off them.

" What... What the fuck are you? "

If he was any other, more dignified type of monster, Sybastian would have felt offended.

" ... Syb. " He grunts out.

You don't look very satisfied with that answer. Unfortunately, you're neither talking nor moving, and his excitement won't let the mimic prolong this pause.

" Want to play. " He points at you, nodding. " I want too. Come. "

The mimic watches your face grow heated, little eyes darting everywhere but him after they catch sight of the tented loincloth doing absolutely nothing to conceal his arousal. He doesn't care to hide it either. You should look, you'll be getting acquainted soon anyway.

" N- No. No, I wasn't... "

Sybastian snickers, mocking. " Was was... I felt. "

Nervousness makes your throat bob.

" I liked. " He adds. " Naughty. Come. "

Sybastian adds more intensity to his poorly constructed coaxing, something you seem to pick up on. A healthy amount of self-preservation is, presumably, what stops you from flailing again when the mimic traces a claw over your ankle, scooting closer.

Sybastian eyes you like a hawk. There's little question, if you make stupid moves, you'll be punished.

Fortunately, you're smarter than that, allowing him to sit right next to your tense figure. Syb likes to think he's being gentle when he pushes the fabric of your shirt up, reaching your collarbone, inhuman eyes widening as you eventually take it off on your own.

Cooperation, from the humans he snags? Now isn't this novel. His cock all but throbs in response.

He laments to see that piece of chest padding your particular type of human tends to don, and his patience does have limits, because he simply uses a claw to rend the thin middle portion apart and free your chest to him.

You have pretty breasts.

Well, a lot of humans do in Sybastian's opinion, but yours have him salivating harder, those soft points visibly perked by your prior activities. The monster rumbles with giddiness, almost unable to belive a catch as appetizing as you landed in his grasp.

He roughly discards his own scant coverings and wastes no time using long arms to drag you closer, skin on skin contact having the mimic rumbling.

" Beautiful mate...! "

He praises, admiring your reaction when a blue tongue longer than your leg unfurls from his gaping maw. You lot always seem to squirm and gawk, and much to his ceaseless amusement today, he gets to see something more than just awe in your gaze. Curiosity.

There's little to no warning before the very same muscle rudely swipes across your chest, clumsily soaking your tits in warm drool while the monster chuckles at the yelp you let out. He savors them like he doesn't get to do this often, finally rolling that clapper between your breasts and easily allowing it to slink downward, across your softer portions and flicking the end of it around your mound.

" Stretch you nice... "

Sybastian sounds delirious even to himself, angling your legs a little roughly just so he can see what he's doing. Your flushed folds stare at him invitingly, he can only imagine what they'll feel like hugging his cock, but your kind is small and frail, he's learned he has to make you sticky and loose first. Whatever you were expecting when your wide eyes glanced down, it certainly wasn't the speed and dexterity that ravished your pussy.

He's never been one to play footsie, or tease, not when he's the one who's been teased to madness by your dirty little show. Sybastian's laps across your cunt are hard and fast, nearly jostling your lower body with their intensity, the pressure against your clit hardly giving you time to gasp in-between each harsh swipe. Not that it lasts long, he's shoving a drool-soaked tip inside far too quickly, trying to worm as much of himself in as he can before he's forced to give you room to breathe and adjust.

The monster beams down at you, his restless spidery hands stroking your thighs, a twitch of his member at every jolt of your legs when he hits something special. Syb can only hum and moan at the taste of your arousal before he's undulating his tongue forcefully, the grip of your inner walls doing nothing to stop him from making space. He salivates even more, a pool of drool drenching the space between your legs and the floor as Syb instinctively tilts his head, as if it could somehow shove him deeper into your poor vaginal canal.

The monster's eyes squint, studying your reactions when you jerk and cry in sudden pleasure. He doesn't like to gloat, but he thinks he's got the science down to make pretty little things like you explode all over his tongue. And if he's not wrong, you're about to give him just that. Impatient, the mimic paws at you until he can get a better feel of your clit, hoping that rolling the nub between his digits while his tongue presses into every crevice of you does the trick.

In no time at all, your undignified noises of animal delight are chocked by a sudden inhale as you tense and freeze. The contractions of your muscles signal his victory, Sybastian all but rips his tongue away to keep torturing your little pearl while you erupt beautifully for him. He laughs and rumbles pridefully when you try to twist away in overstimulation. It could be shame too, but he hardly cares, there's no need to feel ashamed of something so hot.

A lot of monsters can't squirt like this. You though? He wishes he could spend a whole day making you burst over and over-

Giggling a couple more times, the monster finally allows your twitching form to get some rest, peeling away slowly to bask in the mess he's made of you. He makes no secret of his enjoyment, moaning when the flavor coats every inch of his mouth and dropping a hand to his aching cock. The pumping is furious and fast, but not enough, not compared to what you could be doing for him right now

While you pant and huff, the monster grabs you by the neck, careful -Oh ever careful- not to stick his claws where they're unwanted. Not to twist anything wrong. You're smart, smart enough to know you shouldn't jerk your neck or move much in his hold. He can say he's grateful for that, later.

At the moment, Sybastian pulls you closer, slapping something hot and throbbing against your cheek. The way you try to side-eye his dick from this position is hilarious to him.

" ... Say thanks. "

Said shaft bumps against the side of your face tauntingly a couple more times, until his grip eventually lessens and you're allowed to see what you'll be working with more closely.

There are many things a monster like him can flex over humans, and you've come to see plenty today. His speed, his strength, his durability, his tongue... It should come as no surprise that his size would also feature in that list.

Thankfully for you, Sybastian can muster some modicum of patience for this moment, watching the gears turn in that little head as you try to think of how to best please him. One of your hands grabs him by the root, the other cups his balls, your initial attempt to fit him in your mouth fails. On the second one, you manage to at least get a decent portion in, making the mimic pant at the sight of your plush lips wrapped around him.

Chains clink when the mimic lifts his hands, ready to grab you and start fucking into your hot mouth, though he's beaten to it by your own sudden enthusiasm, putting every ounce of effort into making sure he stays still.

Clever girl, you know he'd just hold you down and make you choke.

Syb supposes he can give you that mercy, you're so responsive after all, he's certain you're the perfect mate for him. The way you slurp and hum around his girth is only compounding on this.

As pretty as you look working at him, the mimic's legs are tense enough to snap and he's leaking precum at an alarming rate, so you're nudged off his flushed cock with hesitation.

For a brief moment, Sybastian considers getting you out of this trap and finishing it all somewhere more comfortable. But then he looks at the clear-ish shine on your lips, the peaks of your tits and those cute eyes so focused on his every reaction... No, he doesn't think he can wait.

" Want you bad-! " He all but whines.

It's all too easy to maneuver you however he likes, ending up in the position worthy of a rutting creature, the monster draping over you on all fours. He's long enough to curve his chest of a head and stare back at you when the tip of his slobbered dick teases your opening, beady pupils full of mischief and lust. Although there's mild worry painted on your expression, you spread your legs the smallest amount.

And that's all he needs.

He thinks, pounding into you, seeing your teary eyes glaze in a trance, your mouth hanging open yet silent, it'll be hard to keep such an appetizing little thing away from the others...

The first thrust is drawn out and intense, the two of you groaning in bursts of sensation. He only stops when he's hilted, grinding a bit to milk the perfect grip of your pussy kissing his cockhead. That's the one respite you're allowed before he starts snapping his hips against yours hard enough to clap, snarling and digging dents into the poor ground.

Better it than you.

But maybe, if he fills you up well enough, if he breeds you so hard that the scent of him never leaves, they'll get the message.

[yanmuffins]

Unfortunately with the p & f reader. I think you’re missing out so much hijinks.

For example:

- luthor thinking reader is his kid and petitioning a paternity test to try and take custody

-or giving a full scholarship to said reader and internship at LuthorCorp

-the league of assassins coming after reader when everyone is out of the house and reader casually home alone-ing their way to safety. (Damian knew, still has no evidence, has no idea what reader did with the bodies)

-reader building a complete android copy of Alfred so he can go on vacation and have help around the house

-_doing the same to Damian for mild psychological warfare. (He started it)_

-improving the bat gadgets because reader is annoyed when they don’t work as well, and gaslighting the family into thinking Lucius Fox did it

-reader making an artificial Lazarus pit but only for pets.

-winning back to back science fairs, being shown in magazines, and has scholarships galore but the family still doesn’t notice. (Much to Alfred and Damian’s rage)

-it taking Damian being nice to her and trying to be a good sibling to actually get the rest of the family’s attention and to reveal her semi secret genius.

this is brilliant!! all of this!!! love how this leans a bit more into the malicious p&f! reader version rather than oblivious one. few things i want to comment:

i cannot even imagine (i can, actually) how bruce would react to lex luthor just waltzing in and saying hey. what if we, high-profile CEOs of huge companies, go to court over the paternity and custody of your child who i think might be mine? that's absolutely not going to be a media scandal :)

this implies either that:

1) lex luthor has fucked p&f! reader's mother

2) p&f! reader's mother has fucked both lex luthor and bruce wayne. who is she.

or

3) lex luthor is aware he cannot be p&f! reader's bio dad but just decided he wanted to try and steal bruce wayne's kid one day because of their brilliance and potential, and that's such a petty?? absurd thing to do just because???

but unfortunately for luthor (and any other villains), p&f! reader is a nepobaby who can very well work in their father's company if they want or need an internship and that's where bruce is sending them. no such thing as "i want to make my own way in the world" for p&f! reader in this one. bruce will not let them work anywhere else.

(on another note, it's so fun writing about a reader who is filthy rich for a change. a villain comes up to them offering full scholarships and a promising internship in their evil companies but like. their father is literally bruce wayne.)

and like. still on the paternity drama thing. lex luthor can always handle that privately, but why would he? and something like that wouldn't stay under wraps, tbh. lex luthor better sleep with one eye open from then on, he might find wayne enterprises has acquired a sudden interest in absorbing lexcorp…

i think i've answered an ask regarding the league of assassins? not sure, but a "home alone" setting for neglected! reader would make such a good one-shot fic in general (christmas is just around the corner too!). i don't think p&f! reader would kill anyone but they would sure know to defend themselves and immobilize any threats through their gadgets and last-minute traps.

there's two possibilities as to how this could end,

1) batfam comes back from whatever mission/vacation they went on to find the manor in complete disarray and a bunch of unconscious bodies piled up on the garage with p&f! reader just standing there, unphased.

2) batfam comes back from whatever mission/vacation they went on to find the manor just the way they left it, perhaps even a bit more tidy. there's no bodies, the footage has been deleted, damian knows the league of assassins has been in the manor but once again, cannot prove it. he's fuming but has a newfound respect for their blood sibling. roll credits.

realistically, they would be made aware of people raiding the house through its security system and come back running, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's p&f! reader we're talking about here.

as for the gadgets, i can imagine p&f! reader finding out or figuring out their family are vigilantes except the batfam doesn't know they know, and so they come and go the batcave when no one is looking. improves the gadgets out of pure boredom and leaves. except they do it in a way that is so subtle that the batfam take a certain time to consider there's someone messing with their stuff. it's like that one prank where you just keep replacing a person's pen before it runs out of ink.

"reader making an artificial Lazarus pit but only for pets."

that's essentialy pet sematary by stephen king, and we all know how that went. evil little undead pets running around the manor trying to murder the batfam because... p&f! reader was feeling bored and unhinged, i suppose.

you're right about damian being one of the reasons why the batfam starts paying attention to p&f! reader. alfred has been trying to get them to notice their cast-aside sibling for a while now, but damian being close to reader (trying to bust them or just hanging out) makes it impossible to ignore them. first, by associating with damian, and second by being a gifted child who has been pulling dangerous, insane and impossible stunts that deny all logic.

but looking back, it should be obvious. their room is filled with trophies, medals, rosettes, newspaper/magazine cutouts speaking of their achievements, were featured on the metropolis as well as gotham news multiple times, and pretty much everyone seems to know what they're up to. and yeah. "they feel pretty bad" is an understatement.

damian noticed, though. he might gotten into trouble himself for participating in some of those stunts (which he thinks is unfair), but at least he can brag about being a decent sibling and triumphantly say "shame on you" to everyone else but alfred.

[aingeal98]

Arcane spoilers and musing

It's so interesting to me that Vi and Jinx are both not big picture people, always focused on their loved ones around them, meanwhile everyone else in the cast from Ekko to Cait to Mel have ideals and ambitions to shape society. Vi and Jinx are both aware of their place in society of course and they have thoughts and feelings about it, but it's not what drives them for 99% of the story. Jinx blows up a bridge full of enforcers and hums the song she sang to distract herself when years ago on the very same bridge enforcers killed her parents. And yet she wouldn't be doing any of it if not to get the gemstone back, which she only really wants as a means to prove to Silco that she can be strong and useful and deserving of her place by his side. Her drive is all personal and focused on the people around her, the karmic retribution towards the enforcers is a nice bit of icing on the cake.

Similarly Vi grew up hating and resenting topside but the one time she lead others in a decision to steal from them the resulting domino effect left her so weighed down by guilt that she has spent the rest of her life desperately trying to protect her loved ones from more hurt and harm and either failing or getting rejected by said loved ones every time. She is driven by guilt and the determination to make things right and being unable to see beyond that has now left her with no one and nothing. She was living for Powder and Powder said I'm a monster called Jinx now that you created. She was living to stop that monster and make things right for Caitlyn because Jinx deliberately kidnapped Cait due to her bond with Vi, and that led her to ignore every red flag and cross every moral line only to get rejected by Cait anyways. She can't go back to Ekko after what she and the enforcers did. She has no one now.

And their S2 arcs are so interesting to me because Vi finally hits rock bottom, zero hope, and now has to find a reason to start living for herself. Her decision to just make a living fighting and drinking away the pain makes so much sense but I'm so curious how they're going to get her out of that pit of self loathing and depression.

Meanwhile Jinx has accidentally tripped her way into becoming a revolutionairy symbol due to personal hijinxs and spite. Which is amazing. You never focused on the greater implications of your actions and harmed your community for years but congrats you're an inspiration and a figurehead now. You mean something on your own. There's no one person, Vi or Silco or Mylo, who you need to prove yourself to. Everyone is now determined to prove themselves to be like YOU. How do you handle that?

(sidenote if I was Ekko I would be so salty like what do you mean I spent years actually helping my community with a vision for a better Zaun fighting against both Silco and enforcers, and these two sisters who I know for a fact are nowhere near as committed to Zaun as I am and have both actively harmed citizens accidentally spark a revolution while working out family drama. Cool cool cool fuck you all I'm inventing time travel.)

[tammog]

Do you live in a bizarro world?

Kamala did not try to be "centrist". She actively courted Republican voters by trying to be the Republican Party with a different paint job. She wanted genocide in Palestine. She wanted immigrants to be criminalized and MORE people to die during border crossings. She wasn't "Centrist", unless you want to call her that to point out how much she kissed fascist ass while being absolutely ineffectual in how I would use the word "centrist": Derogatorily.

But even aside from her policy her campaign was absolute ass. She started with huge momentum and then turned around 180 to instantly kill it.

Her campaign sent Bill fucking Clinton to Michigan Arab communities to tell them how Israel has a right to shoot missiles at children.

They basically relied on having people actually on the left held hostage - "It's me or Trump", true enough - while then also doing everything to look as much as the Republicans as possible to get Republican votes somehow. IDK why Republicans would vote for watered down Republicans over the real ones, OR how people on the left would NOT lose motivation to vote for her if she tries to be as much as the other guy as she possibly can, so this was a clearly losing strategy in both directions, AS STAFFERS TOLD PEOPLE, AS ANALYSTS WARNED HER AND THE OTHER CAMPAIGN LEADERS, as everyone on the left kept telling people.

And now after the election, an election that she lost because 15 million people just did not show up to vote, in large part because she tried to make herself seem as bad as possible while relying on the fact that people would try to vote for her to avert something worse, who gets the blame?

Not the fascist-maxxing DNC campaign, not even the voter suppression I heard being talked about so much before, but people on the left, minorities, and the fucking Palestinians BEING MURDERED AS YOU COMPLAIN ABOUT THEM despite them not even being in the same country or being able to vote.

So many posts of liberals - derogatory, again - being gleeful that even if they are going to have it bad, Palestinians are going to die. Posts from liberals hoping that minorities get deported. Posts from liberals wishing queer people death because they have deluded themselves into thinking that all these groups made their sports team lose and everything would be fine and dandy if Harris had won.

Look in a mirror. Look at all the things Harris did. Ask yourself if you truly think she did ANYTHING right.

And if you think she did everything right, why don't you go sign up for the GOP or the KKK, they seem to be more your place.

[soft-cristobalite]

Watched arcane season 2 act 1, thought abt it, so here are some of my thoughts in no particular order. Obvious spoilers.

Also, i watched in dub. Important to know when i am quoting charaters + when i am talking about their tone.

Starting of with something that is directly affected by dub — ukrainian Jayce is my Jayce. Ppl said he sounded condesending while talking to Ekko — not. at. alllll. true for my Jayce. My Jayce sounded tired, emotionaly burn out. "You drink tea, Ekko?" said with no though to it, in a context of continues talking of "Haha do i live here? Hahah....... Do you guys want tea? Want some tea? I'll make tea. Do you drink tea, Ekko?". But d-dub is supposed to stay true to the original— I DONT CAREEE. I love my blorbo almost-himbo Jayce, never changing his characterisation in my mind.

And i will hold Jayce's hand when i say this — you were. Just so gay for like... Essentialy going "Are you okay? Good, good" to lady Mel Medarda HERSELF and then seeing Victor and losing your mind. Sprinting with him in your hands to your lab. LIVING in your lab to monitor him. I just... I get it, you don't have many friends. But like...... Really dude. Reaally.

Give Mel and Ekko thirty minutes. I promise you they would work it out. Eternal piece would be achieved.

I know there are a lot of different opinions regarding Caitlyn. I will not be explaining in-depts what i think about her acr, because a) who cares and b) i like to see her go cray-cray. But like — why isnt anybody exept for Vi attempting to stop her??? Like why is Jayce mourning Victor's twink death instead of, yk, stopping his childhood-best-friend-kinda-younger-sister from killing ppl of Zaun, the last thing Victor wants btw? She and Vi are twenty-ish — WHYYYY are they going through it by themselves??? Why doesnt baby yoda guy with German name that i dont dare to write trying to stop the daughtrer of his ex-collegue? He is 600 or something, im sure he could've come up with advice.

Cait pointing her gun at a child is terrifying, it opens up the possibilities of her going even more blinded with anger, doing even more horrific things, and Vi is right to try and stop her. However... I know damn right i would've believe her when she said she will not miss 😭 Every single time she fired her gun she was very precise. Even in that scene she aimed at the gun the girl was holding like two seconds ago and got a perfect. fucking. score. Like i dont remember her missing at all, actually.

"Ohhhhh you're gonnnaaa haaaaaattteeee Maddie after act two—" says who? On that note, i hope both Cait AND Vi will sleep with a few random people. Good for them. Let them try to forget about each other only to realise just how down bad they are for one another. Let the scenes of Cait and Maddie hooking up intertwine with Vi's one night stand.

"Maddie is just gonna be a victim of comander Cait :(((" and i do not have any thing to say to that — we dont yet KNOW what will happen — but I dont think Cait will try to manipulate her into this. I think Maddie will flirt a bit, Cait will try and seek salvage and vulnerability in someone, especially since she is now constantly in public's eye and needs to project hope™ and stoicism™. It will be a genuine attempt to move on — not anybody's fault she can't.

But oh god, oh goooddd i cant wait for Maddie to loose the spark in her eyes due to lesbian situationship.

[meanbossart]

re: Vellioth as the stepfather its interesting bc stepfathers n media (and irl but limiting myself to tropes here) hav the practical role and obligations we tend to ascribe to fathers ie providing money and protection and being the head of the household, but do not share a blood tie to the child in question. and it is seen as magnanimous for a man to "take on the duty" of providing ofr the children of the woman he's with, rather than duty. This shifts also means that implicitly the stepchild should be grateful for this new patriarch in their life, which is complicated because most often this stepfather occupies a place of control. In cazador's caze i feel like bc there was no father to speak of, his resentment of vellioth as The Stepfather had more to do with intruding and vying for attention from the woman they both love, rather than usurping the OG father. Come to think of it, having no experience with a father figure before vellioth probably made the shift to a patriarch that more jarring. And considering that he positions himself s the Father of his spawns, he probably modelled a lot on Vellioth (or in antithesis of).

ultimately velloith did what stepchildren often fear secretly most: intruding, appropriating, and evnetually the destruction of the family unit as it was

I might not have expressed myself super well in that reply- I was comparing Vellioth to a step father in the same way people loosely compare Cazador to a patriarch/abusive partner. I certainly didn't mean it to be literal - neither in the comic I referenced or in my personal headcanon (which are functionally identical) does Vellioth ever actually inhabit the role of a surrogate dad in Cazador's life. Rather, that is the perception that he's vaguely trying to sell to others to maintain the ruse.

I clear this up because I am (personally) not of the belief that Vellioth and Cazador ever had a relationship outside of the dynamics of master and slave, which might be a little more simple than you were hoping for, based on this ask (unless I'm misreading, in that case ignore me LOL)

But if we're speaking strictly in allegory - yes. Vellioth makes for a specially juicy satire of a step-father who intrudes, disrupts, and yet overvalues themselves for doing the least on the basis of being there by choice rather than obligation (keeping Cazador alive as a spawn when he could have just killed him off) but I don't think any part of him is doing that under the false pretense of charity - he only wants to keep Cazador around to hurt him, because that would hurt his mother.

(Something I also neglected to say is that in De Rerum Natura ((not spelled out in the comic explicitly, but stated so as a headcanon of the very smart and handsome author)) Cazador was never meant to become a vampire. That was a fate his mother very much did not want for him.)

And, perhaps, every vampire lord harbors a little self-destructive desire. If you don't invest a non-negligible amount of time and energy into making ONE particular guy super mad at you, who is ever going to finally put you out of your misery after all!

EITHER WAY this image you sent me is still very good and thank you for sending it LOL (art by @barbatusart)

[reasonreblogs]

Same for both. The thing with explaining the reasons with an apology for me is part of the “I recognize how this action was wrong and how I ended up doing this thing that hurt you. I will be making an effort to stop this behavior. I hope you feel okay calling me out on it going forward. I want to assure you that I am aware of what I did, why I did it, that I am going to be working on it, that this hurt you, and that I’m sorry I did this.”

To me the reasons and why it happened shows that they understand and how likely they are to keep doing the same things or if thy ran it, that kind of thing. I’ve had someone who was basically overdosing on Xanax day spent the most horrible shit to me, hitting every insecurity I had about our friendship and after the fact *not* apologize and just said something like “I didn’t reply mean it, I just said crazy shit because I was prescribed a higher dose of Xanax than a person should be.”

Like… okay, I get that… and… it would mean something if you said “I’m sorry, I know it hurt you and I said a lot of things I knew would hurt most. I didn’t know I was prescribed higher dose than I should’ve been until recently and it really fucked with my head in a way that I wasn’t myself.” Instead, I wasn’t sure if she actually meant what she said looking back or if she’d do it again only without her mind being fucked up.

She gave the reason without the apology which made it an excuse and a “so you can’t be upset with anything I said” when she could scroll back and see exactly the things she said to me even if she didn’t quite remember. However, with an apology, I would be able to believe she didn’t mean it and was in a state of mind where she was actively looking to be as hurtful as possible rather than actually believing hat she said. It’s kind of like how some people go turn out to be suicidal try to make everyone around them hate them before going through with it under the notion it’d “hurt less” when it happens. I think of one or two popular youtubers who did exactly that, posting outrageous bigoted shit before disappearing and after hearing they killed themselves, it clicked that’s what they were doing.

As for the telling a story for how thy relate (as I did above actually lol) it’s like… “listen here’s a thing I went through… to me it sounds like what you’re going through, so I hope what I did to get through it helps or if talking to someone who might understand better makes you feel okay talking about this.”

It’s like… it adds some weight or legitimacy to what the person you’re talking to is saying for me. I’d be more likely to take their advice or reflect on how I handle or perceive it vs how they might have. When someone isn’t grasping at all what you’re saying, it turns into defending why you’re feeling and going through rather than being able to just… talk about it.

Idk, been thinking on the nuance of this for a while. I like reasons, I like getting an idea on if this will happen again or not. There’s just a lot of “depends on the person/situation” tho.

[rotzaprachim]

yeah the experience of growing up Filipino and Russian-Jewish diaspora was growing up in the shadow of a communist dictator who hurt my family and a U.S.-backed capitalist dictator who hurt my family, knowing about people who supported duterte and Bibi and knowing OF Putin and knowing a bunch of their supporters were struggling working class people from unambiguously minoritised backgrounds who thought voting in a strongman would make them safer and wealthier.

It was watching all kinds of Americans think there was something fundamentally strange or dumb or violent about Filipinos and Israelis to get themselves in this situation, even though the everyday violence wrought by the second intifada and the drug gangs in Manila that Bibi and duterte used to propel themselves to power was unimaginable to most of the working class white Americans who created a violent migrant enemy in their heads.

and, idk, it’s made me fed up with the American armchair revolutionary media of resistance and ya novels and fucking Star Wars, because it leaves out the horror of knowing that those proletariat Masses will in fact vote for a dictator - not be simply afraid of a dictator or uninterested in a way that the brave heroes can rally, but support one anyway, because hey, they aren’t the terrorists! It ain’t them. It’s not so color coded and yes and no and insider. It leaves out the horror of those who stand against the dictator too- called the commie riff raff, but also called the upper class elitests who just don’t know what the common man wants! The Ashkenazi tel avivian elites, the English speaking Tagalog elites who don’t support the drug war cause they live abroad or in big guarded houses. The messiness of it, the way class politics can be inverted in the support of a strongman with a Kill Working Class People tagline - but of course, for those who support him, it isn’t them! Idk. I think too many leftists have watched Star Wars but not read history and not read theory. I’m worried the American liberals are going to bow to the claim of being elitests for wanting basic democracy or liberal values in a way that’s happened all over the world and give in to the flame. I hope people are smart enough to see things when there arent color coded glowing swords.

[anonymousewrites]

Apple of My Eye Chapter Three

Eventual! Harry Hook x Child of Snow White! Reader

Descendants x Reader

Summary: Just as friendship develops, love does, too, with the VKs.

            “She did Jane’s hair, too, and Fairy Godmother’s not happy about it,” complained Audrey, crossing her arms. “I can’t believe she’s giving everyone makeovers whenever they want! And Ben doesn’t see the harm!”

            “I think people are trying to get quick fixes to insecurities instead of working through them,” said (Y/N), frowning. “That’s never good for self-image.”

            “Exactly,” said Audrey. “It’s gateway magic, and soon it’ll be the lips and the legs and the clothes and then everyone looks good and where will I be?”

            “That’s what you care about?” said (Y/N), raising an eyebrow. “How you look compared to everyone else?”

            “Obviously,” said Audrey. “That’s what matters.”

            (Y/N) turned and walked away from Audrey. Unbelievable. Everyone was either hating the VKs for existing or using them to solve the problems they didn’t want to face themselves.

l

            “This is a nail-biter, folks!” said the announcer as the tourney game raged before them. “There’s forty-seven seconds left on the clock. We’re all tied up. The Sherwood Falcons, two. The Fighting Knights, two. What a game between Auradon’s fiercest rivals.”

            (Y/N) cheered with the rest of the crowd for the Knights and their friends. Mal was surprised by the energy and clamor around her. Evie was bouncing on the balls of her feet, hollering with (Y/N).

            “As the teams get into their huddles and take up positions along the Kill Zone,” said the announcer. “The dragoneers have been laying down a withering hail of fire. And now a substitution by Coach Jenkins. He’s bringing that hothead Jay in from the Isle of the Lost and that little guy Carlos who can barely hold a shield.”

            (Y/N), Mal, and Evie cheered for Carlos and Jay as they took the field.

            “Knights!” cheered the team as they readied themselves.

            “When they break from their huddles, there’s going to be a big moment here,” said the announcer. “And the tipoff is ready.”

            “Come on, come on,” said (Y/N), bouncing on their toes.

            “I thought you weren’t competitive,” teased Mal.

            “About looks? No. This? I want to kick their butt,” said (Y/N), grinning.

            Mal laughed, and Evie grinned.

            The whistle went off. “Here we go!” said the announcer.

            “Long pass goes to jay.”

            Jay grabbed it and took the ball down the field before pitching it.

            “Jay dishes off to Prince Ben.”

            Ben hit it farther down, and an interceptor ran in. Carlos blocked him.

            “Nice little block by Carlos.”

            Carlos jeered and danced around the fallen opponent’s body. Evie, Mal, and (Y/N) laughed at his proud antics.

            “He does a little dancing jig in the opponent’s face. And now Jay gets the ball back. Here comes Jay.”

            Everyone grabbed each other and watched anxiously. A dragoneer fired, and people tensed. Jay jumped and easily evaded it.

            “Jay, hurdling maneuver at midfield.”

            “I’m open!” shouted Ben.

            “Jay makes a nice pass to Prince Ben through the Kill Zone.”

            “Jay!” Chad barreled into an opponent.

            “A big block by Chad! Prince Ben moves over wide, gives it back to Jay. He’s in the clear!”

            Jay swung.

            “A shot!”

            Everyone groaned as it was blocked.

            “Oh! What a save by Philip, the Falcons’ goalkeeper.”

            The Falcons took the ball back down the field towards the Knights’ goal.

            “Let’s go, guys!” shouted (Y/N). “Come on, Ben! Let’s go, Jay, Carlos!”

            “Come on!” shouted Evie.

            “Twenty-three seconds. You could cut the tension with a sword,” announced the commentator. “The long ball is played to Jay. Jay, great time, great leap. And a great interception by Jay.” They were moving back towards the Falcons’ goal. “Big block from Chad. Jay dishes off to Prince Ben. And then Carlos with a big block, goes down.”

            “Ooh,” Evie and (Y/N) winced. Mal glanced at them, amused.

            “Jay through the Kill Zone, picks up Carlos. He’s being hammered by dragon fire.”

            Jay was using Carlos as a prop to dodge.

            “Jay, hurdling maneuver at midfield. He’s in the clear. The ball goes back to Jay. He passes to Prince Ben with an assist from Carlos. He shoots! He scores!”

            Cheers went up from the team. (Y/N) clapped and whooped. Mal covered her ears as Evie joined them while everyone grinned and shouted.

            “Prince Ben has won it! What an unselfish play by Jay! What a team! Incredible! And it’s the new guys, Jay and Carlos, who set up the prince for the winner! What a victory! An absolutely wonderful end to one of the best games ever!”

            The players came off the crowd and were greeted excitedly by their friends.

            “The winners of the—”

            “Excuse me.” Ben took the microphone. “Excuse me. Can I have your attention, please?” Everyone quieted and looked at their prince as he got up on a podium. “There’s something I’d like to say.” He cleared his throat. “Give me an ‘M.’ ” He made an “M” with his arms.

            “M!” said everyone, copying him.

            “Give me an ‘A.’ ” He put his arms at his sides.

            “A!” Everyone followed his lead.

            “Give me an ‘L!’ ”

            Everyone did an “L.” Mal’s jaw dropped open, and Evie and (Y/N) looked at her, Evie with excitement and (Y/N) with surprise.

            “What does that spell?” said Ben, a giant grin on his face.

            “Mal!” said everyone. Mal looked mortified. Audrey looked horrified.

            “Come on, I can’t hear you!” said Ben.

            “Mal!” shouted everyone.

            “I love you, Mal!” said Ben. “Did I mention that?”

            (Y/N) let out a laugh of surprise as they smiled. Ben was definitely feeling bold.

            Audrey’s jaw dropped open, and she stalked away from the celebration.

            “Give me a beat!” said Ben.

            Doug started up the band, and everyone began to nod their heads and tap their feet with the beat.

            “Oh my god,” said Evie, grinning ear-to-ear.

            “What is up with him?” laughed (Y/N). “I never knew he could be so head-over-heels.”

            “Right?” said Mal, clearing her throat.

(Ben) “Did I mention that I’m in love with you? And did I mention there’s nothing I can do? And did I happen to say, I dream of you every day, Well, let me—” (All) “Shout it out loud!” (Ben) “If that’s okay, hey, hey!” (All) “Hey!”

            Evie and (Y/N) teased and grinned at Mal, whose cheeks were red with embarrassment.

(Ben) “If that’s okay.” (All) “Hey!”

            Ben jumped down from the podium and began to lead the cheerleaders and players in a dance.

(Ben) “I met this girl who rocked my world like it’s never been rocked, So now I’m living just for her, and I won’t ever stop, I never thought that it could happen to a guy like me.”

            He winked and fell down.

(Ben) “But now look at what you’ve done, You got me down on my knees!”

            The other players fell down dramatically, and Ben bounced up.

(Ben) “Because my love for you is ridiculous! I never knew!”

            Carlos and Jay jumped up.

(Carlos and Jay) “Who knew?” (Ben) “That it could be like this! My love for you is ridiculous!”

            He danced around a microphone as everyone cheered and danced along with him.

(Ben) “My love is r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s!”

            (Y/N) and Evie grabbed each other’s hands and spun around as people mimicked the letters.

(All) “R-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s!” (Ben) “It’s—” (All) “Ridiculous!” (Ben) “Just—” (All) “Ridiculous!” (Ben) “And I would give my kingdom for just one kiss!”

            He blew a kiss, and Mal’s eyes widened, and she let out a surprised laugh. (Y/N) and Evie mimicked kisses playfully, and Mal rolled her eyes.

(Ben) “Well, did I mention I’m in love with you? And did I mention there’s nothing I can do? And did I happen to say I dream of you every day? Well, let me—” (All) “Shout it out loud!” (Ben) “—if that’s okay, hey, hey, Yeah! If that’s okay! (All) “Hey!”

            Ben spun with the microphone and a large grin.

(Ben) “I gotta know which way to go, come on, give me a sign, You gotta show me that you’re only ever gonna be mine, Don’t wanna go another minute livin’ without you, ‘Cause if your heart just isn’t in it, I don’t know what I’d do.”

            He fell back into his team, and they threw him back up.

(Ben) “Because my love for you is—” (All) “Ridiculous!” (Ben) “I never knew!” (All) “Who knew?” (Ben) “That it could be like this! My love for you is—” (All) “Ridiculous!” (Ben) “My love is r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s!” (All) “R-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s!”

            (Y/N) and Evie made the letters with laughs.

(Ben) “It’s—” (All) “Ridiculous!” (Ben) “Just—” (All) “Ridiculous!” (Ben) “And I would give my kingdom for just one kiss! Come on, now! Ho! Oh, yeah!”

            Everyone danced and clapped to the beat.

(Ben) “Yow!”

            He took off his jersey to leave just his protective gear.

(Ben) “Alright!”

            He balled it up.

(All) “Hey!”

            Ben threw it at Mal, and she caught it. A smile spread across her face.

(Ben) “Because my love for you is ridiculous!” (All) “Ridiculous!”

            Ben got onto the shoulders of the mascot to pretend to ride a horse like a valiant knight. Mal laughed at the ridiculous (haha) sight.

(Ben) “I never knew!” (Carlos, Jay, Evie, and (Y/N)) “Who knew?!” (Ben) “That it could be like this! My love for you is—!” (All) “Ridiculous!” (Ben) “My love for you is r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s!!”

            He got onto some cheerleaders’ shoulders, and they threw him into the crowd. They caught him and put him on his feet.

(All) “R-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s!”

            Ben bodysurfed towards Mal, who rolled her eyes with a giant smile.

(Ben) “It’s—” (All) “Ridiculous!” (Ben) “Just—” (All) “Ridiculous!”

            Ben landed in front of Mal and grinned.

(Ben) “And I would give my kingdom for just one kiss! Come on, now!”

            The song ended, and everyone clapped. Ben leaned in for a real kiss, and Mal nervously put the jersey between him and her. Still, she had a blush on her cheeks from surprise, embarrassment, and, understandable, nerves. A confession like that would get such a reaction.

            “I love you, Mal,” said Ben. “Did I mention that?” He smiled softly and put a hand around her shoulders. Mal smiled slightly at the motion.

            Audrey ran up the steps of the bleachers, grabbed the microphone, and interrupted the moment (as per usual). “Chad’s my boyfriend now!” Chad grinned, and Audrey tried to look smug despite her anger as she looked at Ben and Mal. “And I’m going to the coronation with him. So I don’t need your pity date.” She kissed Chad.

            Evie narrowed her eyes, and (Y/N) sighed. Audrey was so obsessed with her reputation. And people got hurt because of it. They touched Evie’s shoulder, and Evie relaxed slightly.

            “Mal!” Ben wasn’t even distracted. “Will you go to the coronation with me?”

            “Yes,” said Mal, smiling.

            “She said yes!” shouted Ben, and everyone cheered.

            “Let’s go, Ben,” said Jay, saving Mal from more attention. “The team’s waiting for you.”

            “Yeah,” said Ben, staring at Mal.

            Jay pulled Ben away.

            “Bye,” said Mal.

            “What a victory,” said the announcer, recovering his microphone. “Finally winning the trophy back after so many years.”

            (Y/N) and Mal exchanged looks as Evie, upset, folded her arms.

            “I feel really sorry for Audrey,” said Mal.

            “You do?” said Evie.

            “Yeah,” said Mal. “I feel like if she were talented like you, and she knew to how sew and knew beauty tips, that she wouldn’t need a prince to make her feel better about herself.” Evie smiled slightly.

            “Especially not one who can’t keep up a conversation,” said (Y/N). “If she were like you, she’d have interesting people around her because they actually like her.” Evie smiled a little wider.

            “I guess I am kind of cool,” said Evie, putting her hands on her hips. “Thanks, you guys.”

            “And there he is!” said the announcer as a player was lifted up with the trophy. “Jay, the most valuable player!”

            (Y/N), Evie, and Mal cheered.

Taglist:

@neenieweenie

@hampterfae

@american-idiot-jpg

@lunalixya

@roo024

@unholycheesesnack

@paastaboi

@lbee13

[divineerdrick]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon Upd8 for November 11, 2024

*flops*

Don't mind me.

Just gonna lie here while I do the Homestuck liveblog thing.

I am going to give a heads up. If my next migraine treatment brings me a bit more back in line, I'll be doing VLogs again. I have a bigger video project planned, but it's not Homestuck related. I'll be posting the updates here though, so you'll still know when I blog an upd8. Then you'll all get to see my haggard and aged face.

We begin with the monthly news upd8 from James. Except no! It is in fact an upd8 from Miles! James fades into the background, and apparently Miles will be our flattering correspondent from now on.

It looks like Miles is putting potential spoilers in the news post, so I might have to be careful in the future. Of course these might be jokes. We'll have to see.

Work continues on the planned [S] page and more Beyond Canon merch. We won't be getting an upd8 for December, but they will be running the Patreon. The next upd8 looks like it might be as late as February.

That's all unfortunate. But I fully support if the team wants to take a well earned holiday.

Upd8

Tavvy has decided to join Yiffy on an adventure. This can't possibly end well. His attempts at being her lackey have so far landed him mostly in trouble. And there's a heap of trouble brewing on the soon to be battlefield.

Yeah that's not happening.

Heh! Harry brought the trail mix.

Oh wow. And oh no!

OH NO!!!

That can't possibly count as Heroic though. Getting sniped while performing a purely tactical role is not a hero's end. Still, Rose is probably glad the kids aren't seeing that.

And button.

Interesting view to cut to.

Again, I don't think this will count as Heroic for anyone. But a lot of people are about to die. And let's not forget, none of the trolls currently outside for the Plot Point are God Tiers. This is bad. This is really bad. This is the kind of moment that calls for an extreme, deus ex machina, like the Plot Point has the potential for.

But we're not getting to see it yet.

Edit: @vriedi reminded me that Meenah is a God Tier. Though this does make me wonder, what happens when a dead God Tier dies?

Orange curtains.

Okay! Legitimately fantastic Psyche Out. They actually got me pretty good there.

Okay, we have a new troll it I think.

gavageCunctation is messaging Vrissy. Though that doesn't necessarily tell us much, except that a new player may have entered the drama.

And they're "negging" Vrissy. So this troll clearly sees themselves as a "player" too.

We've got a "game" that's about to be played. A game being run by a TC. Now Gamzee is dead, but that doesn't mean he didn't setup something before Vriska killed him. Still, it's likely these are two completely new troll kids.

We've got a new AA too. So we might be seeing more troll descendants. After all, they used cloning to kick things off. This troll is typing in purple, but blood typing may not be universal anymore. I do find it interesting that we're continuing the nucleotide pairs though. They could have gone for a different motif. Maybe they're trying to symbolize that these are potential paradox clones for a new session?

AA is apparently our chronic auspistice for this group. And potentially our Seer, though we've had fake-outs on that before.

And our actual cliffhanger ending is this new GC's computer exploding.

So yeah. Something has to happen for a lot of our beloved characters to not bite it. I'm also curious how Rose's vision of future events can come true if Jane has unleashed her weapon. But I mentioned last time that Rose is playing a dangerous game here. I don't think any of our God Tiers are in trouble, and I'm pretty sure the Plot Point is fine.

I'm wondering if this is how Calliope ends up sacrificing themself, if Rose was even correct there. Either way, this a dark ending for the year on a community that's already seen some dark endings.

*Returns to flop*

[cringedragon]

I have brain damage. I have a limb difference due to macrodactyly. I can’t work. I can’t live on my own. I can’t go to school. NOBODY wants to date me because of my disabilities and the fact I can’t contribute.

People have told me I’m better off dead. People have told me I’m a burden. Society also thinks this way. They make it hard and painful to exist like we do. It affects literally every single person who had their chance at a normal life taken away by disability, and yet there’s NOTHING being done to protect us!!

The department of rehabilitation: the place that’s supposed to get people like me jobs, said there was NOTHING THEY COULD DO!

People have said if they had my issues they’d kill themselves, and I gotta admit, sometimes I agree. Even people who claim to stand for equality silently think we’re better off dead 🙃

[sparklingdemon]

Holy crap! Now that it’s been confirmed, no wonder Cody doesn’t want us to freaking reset the game! Because if we do, then Cody themself has to face what they did! To Blue, to their Pokemon, to everyone in the game! Every character, every point in the story! And they’ll be in our control…. Would they be able to speak? And would they even be themselves?! Or would they be molded to fit the protagonist character?! Holy frick, this comes with so many terrifying realizations! Charizard’s punishment….. The irony of forcing Cody the hacker to live through their hack…. The control, the chains, the possibility of Cody losing themselves in the game, because at the end of the hack, we end up killing the trainer do we not?! So we would end up killing Cody! Unless they destiny bonded US! Holy crap! This is some amazing story telling Sparks! Great job!

gonna put this answer under the cut bc i'm rambling and it's image-heavy!

the game characters used the PC to edit the game's RAM, not the game's ROM. so any modifications that the in-game characters make through the PC is undone upon a new game. blue comes back to life, the player character loses their voice again, etc.

it's pretty clear from how pikachu talks about how a new game works that cody will lose their memories and become a non-sentient blank slate character.

but on the thought of cody destiny bonding the player. it definitely puts THIS post into more perspective, doesn't it.

and THIS post, too.

cody may be willing to kill sentient video game characters like red/leaf and charizard, but they do still have a strong sense of morality when it comes to killing "real" people. they don't want any "real" person to suffer the same fate that they have.

cody doesn't believe regaining their sentience is possible - but they fear that if they somehow DO, they won't be themself anymore. that they'll go on the same path red/leaf did and hurt someone else.

it's why they're so adamant on you destroying the game if they ever lose their memories - the game is too dangerous to be played.

either way- thank you! all of cody's dialogue over the past two years has been carefully crafted in anticipation for this big reveal. it puts a lot of older posts in a new light - there's so many little details and nuances with cody's dialogue that i would Love to talk about someday, but it's SO much to cover, haha.

[fabbyf1]

girl people are about to KILL THEMSELVES, update the danm fic !! my lord its starvation on ao3 rn, come back tonight queen ?

dearest anon,

while i can... appreciate your very "lol jk" follow up you sent, i'm not sure why you ever thought this was a correct way to come at another human being, especially when you're looking for a result. i think it's important to note that you sent this on anon, too, because you clearly didn't want your blog attached to such a rude ask.

do you think i'm just sitting around on a fully finished chapter, and i'm not posting it for shits and giggles? do you think i get some sort of sick satisfaction on making people wait? do you think it hasn't occurred to me once that i should update the fic, even though i've been regularly posting on ao3 and have one of the highest word counts in the fandom?

i don't know what you thought would happen when you sent that first ask, but i can promise you that coming at authors like that in their ask box is NEVER going to encourage them to write. ESPECIALLY. WHILE. ON. ANON. send it with your fucking blog attached if you have something like this to say. i would at least have some respect for you if your blog was attached, even if you were being an asshole.

but you won't. because you know you're being fucking rude and don't want to get cancelled.

i'm mature enough to know that you're just excited about the fic and are looking forward to an update, but let me tell you, anon, you're being rude. if nobody else will tell you that, i will. you need to be cognizant of how you talk to people and how your words can affect others.

it's 2024, the world is in shambles, and this is supposed to be a fun space. stop ruining it by being rude. it cost literally nothing to be nice.

authors run on praise, not on demands.

[fandoms-in-law]

Ophelia's Son: Addams Visiting

Author's note: I'm not going to let Cleopatra actually visit Hawkins. I'm pretty sure the Party would immediately kill her. Also I do have more ideas to play with in this world so I'm not saying it's over forever, just for now.

Summary: A storm is forecast for Hawkins so what better time for the Addams Family to come and visit

Continuing on from Ophelia's Son Smoking What Will Grow and Abigail

/\

There was a storm due. Steve had been debating since hearing about it whether he should invite everyone over for a sleepover or just prepare to drive through the storm fetching anyone who got upset. Robin and Eddie had already invited themselves over and had been laughing together about his worrying.

The knock at the door stopped the laughter and had them all glancing to the closet he’d stored the nail bat in. Steve chuckled at the realisation they’d all done it and went to answer the door without grabbing it.

“Hello, um, Aunt Morticia and everyone. Come in. I didn’t know you were visiting.” Steve blinked at the half dozen people stood on his doorstep, including the giant carrying all the suitcases.

“Good lad, Steve. We saw the weather forecast and simply had to come.” Gomez greeted, shaking his hand rapidly before he’d held it out. “Lurch will bring everything in but you’ve got some wonderfully ominous woods Wednesday was begging to explore on the drive through. Hope you don’t mind us arriving then going out for a walk immediately.”

“In a storm?” Eddie asked, sceptically.

Morticia beamed at him, “Of course. What better weather. And the moon is full too which is wonderful for the skin when it spears through.”

“We’ll prepare rooms for you all while you explore then.” Steve agreed easily, letting Lurch past.

He would definitely need more blankets if the party needed comfort through the storm now, but extra company wasn’t a bad thing at all.

/\

Morticia had been close to frowning as she took in the Harrington house, but forced a smile for Steve, saying, “Oh it’s got a Je ne sais quoi about it, charmingly but far too bland.”

“Tish! That’s French!” Gomez stumbled out of his chair ceasing her arm to start ravishing it.

After a moment of watching this Steve looked away a little awkwardly, “Um, I’ve set up spare rooms for you. Yours is top of the stairs, second to the right. If you want privacy or, you know.”

“Much obliged,” Gomez agreed, now carrying Morticia up the stairs, kissing the back of her neck when he could. “We’ll talk later.”

“Steve, remind me never to speak anything other than English around any and all Addams’s from now on.” Robin asked after they’d heard the door shut. Granmama’s insistence that they’re in love over some Russian made a lot more sense if that was Gomez’s reaction to French. She did not want to test if it applied to other people speaking foreign languages or not.

Steve glanced at her, smirking, “I might be suffocating you if you do. Just to avoid whatever love dust is.” He snickered to hear Eddie’s yelp as he’d been finishing off the rooms somehow.

“Glad we agree.” She nodded briskly, “Now how are we going to make the kids witness that so they’ll stop trying to set us up?”

“I’ve got some French cook books I think,” He said after a moment, deciding to ignore the possibility of it occurring that night or just because of the kids nosiness about his relatives now, "Could do a family dinner.”

“Perfect.”

In the reactions of his Aunt and Uncle Steve had momentarily forgotten that there were also two kids staying with him. Granted they’d both quickly gone to entertain themselves and each other but he was usually more alert over anyone younger given his kids likelihood to get into deadly situations.

He was reminded of them by Pugsley coming through frowning. “Cousin Steve, you don’t have any tunnels yet.”

“No Pugsley, I’ve not found any.” He answered mostly hoping he wasn’t about to be told about Upside Down tunnels again. Having it happen once with Dustin was beyond enough/

“We’ll start making them now.” Wednesday offered, climbing out of the closet, cuddling a headless doll and his nail-bat. “Any pipes to avoid?”

Steve reached to take the nail-bat back, sighing, “Try the office for house plans cause I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” Robin shared a glance at him as the kids ran off. Neither had to speak to know they were both wondering if kids really were just looking for ways to die all the time and how neither of them had done that.

/\

The storm passed without any of the Party asking for comfort beyond radio confirmation everyone was okay and Steve now wished it was still going.

Gomez had declared after breakfast that it was time he got Steve acquainted with Zen Yogi and flipped into a headstand.

“That will hurt my flowers. Are there any other poses?” Steve asked, hand going to his hair and the sunflowers that he’d kept growing through the few experiments they’d done since the first one.

“Well, yes, but this is the most important one to master.” Gomez genially explained, somewhere he’d gotten a newspaper to read and had pulled a cigar out of his pocket, already lit somehow. “At least try it once. It’s wonderful for inner strength building.”

Eddie laughed, “Steve does need to work on his core muscles.”

“Nope, no more jokes like that.” Steve knelt, eyes narrowed as he worried over the flowers he was increasingly fond of. “If it damages my flowers, I’m stopping.”

He had done a few headstands before but not often so took a moment to get stable, during which Morticia clapped her hands together with a joyful noise, “Wonderful and if I may say, I’m thrilled to see such variety of plants growing. Ophelia always stayed so limited with daisies when there are much more delightful plants.”

Her warm tone had something in Steve relaxing, a worry they’d dislike or judge him over the flowers dissolving. “It’s become an experiment for the kids, testing what will grow. I’m pretty sure Dustin has theories over what should grow well in brains as well as what soil type my head it.”

“Gardeners?” Morticia sounded pleasantly surprised about the experiments. “Oh I wish I’d known. I’d have brought Cleopatra with us. She is a dear vine.”

“Maybe if you visit again you could bring her.” Steve decided not to question a plant being spoken about like a person. After all some of the ones growing on his head definitely felt like that to him now.

He came out of the headstand when the conversation seemed to have ended, immediately checking the hallway mirror to see if the plants and flowers were okay. Seeing they were he relaxed and moved to curl up between Robin and Eddie for the rest of the afternoon.

[oediex]

You know what, yeah, that bell hooks quotation wasn't appropriate, it doesn't say what the person who added it think it says.

But I don't think it's fair to say that that man who everyone is pissing on somehow claimed we had to "hold his hand" or "coddle" him or whatever. Or even that women had to do it.

He never once even mentioned the word 'woman' in that post. I'm not excluding that that what he was implying - it's very possible! - but what he said was "the left", and let's be clear, this is his understanding of what the left is. I saw people saying that a "self-proclaimed leftist" should understand that his answer was still drenched in patriarchal thinking. But he never once proclaimed he was a leftist. Perhaps he thinks he is, but all he said was that he got "out" of the "alt-right". For all we know, that means he voted for the Democratic Party and we, who are on the left, all know that's not the fucking left.

The question that was posed was how do we keep young men from turning right wing, and he offered an explanation. An explanation! Not an excuse! Again something that a lot of people just assumed.

And yes, it was a flawed explanation, and yes he has some things to learn, and yes it was uncritical and terribly phrased.

But can we recognise that not everyone has the necessary critical thinking skills to completely dig their way out of the overarching ideology that fucking rules our lives? Critical thinking skills aren't something that we are born with. It's something that is learned, something that you have to train. It's a never-ending project. And from what I know of the educational system in the US? That's not where you get it.

Speaking of bell hooks, at least she understands this. In that book (The Will to Change) she writes that "most men never think about patriarchy - what it means, how it is created and sustained." She writes how the patriarchy sees men's violence and the one emotion they're allowed to have, anger, as "natural". Understanding the patriarchy is something that has to be learned, and you either figure it out yourself by reading, but most of us probably had someone in our lives who talked to us about it, taught us about it, and then we might have started reading more about it.

What if you don't have someone like that? What if all you hear is that the things feminists tell you is bad is what was imprinted on you as "natural" to you?

Here's bell hooks:

Yet no one talks about the role patriarchal notions of manhood play in teaching boys that it is their nature to kill, then teaching them that they can do nothing to change this nature—nothing, that is, that will leave their masculinity intact.

Here's what she says of her own brother:

As patriarchal thinking and action claimed him in adolescence, he learned to mask his loving feelings. He entered that space of alienation and antisocial behavior deemed “natural” for adolescent boys.

She clearly pinpoints the moment of these patriarchal ideas taking hold to be in adolescent, and the question that was posed was, what can we do to stop that from happening? I've seen people say that nothing can be done until we change the material conditions that make it so that men systematically have power over women. And yeah, undoubtedly that is a fight we need to have. But is that truly the only way we can keep (some) boys from falling into the grasp of the (alt-)right? Is there no hope in at least reaching them in the meantime?

I've seen a post saying, "omg of course he goes for misandry" and while misandry isn't real in that men are not systematically oppressed, that doesn't mean that there aren't some out there who express hatred or disgust of men. That's not what the left stands for, obviously, but it is not absent. Here are some comments from the notes on some of these reaction posts (and presumably these are all people who consider themselves leftists):

"you should be hunted for sport"

"makes me want to commit homocide"

"kys right now"

"'leftists constantly said i should die' yeah fucking right"

"we need to double male loneliness and I'm not even kidding"

"I HATE MEN AND THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. THEY HATE US MORE AND THEY HAVE ALL THE POWER TO DO ACTUAL HARM TO US. Misandry is NOT FUCKING REAL but I wish it was"

"we should kill people who don't get it"

Is that hatred of men (non-systematically)? Not all of it, but some of it definitely or possibly qualifies. And it sure does look like some people (who probably think themselves leftists) think this man (or men in general) are the "scum of the earth" and that they want him/them dead. How else do you interpret some of these phrases?

Now imagine that this is something that you encounter online, and with the help of the stranglehold of the patriarchy, whispers of right wing ideology, confirmation bias, and negativity bias? I can imagine you might end up concluding they "hate you for your immutable traits" (remember patriarchy teaches boys that violence and anger is natural to them) and that they "blame you for everything that's wrong in the world".

Is that the right conclusion? No. But as much as being able to use reason is part of being human, so is not being immune to ideology and propaganda. We wouldn't fucking be where we are right now if that wasn't the case.

How do we teach boys that anger and violence aren't "immutable traits"? How do we educate them about the power of the patriarchy? Well, where does it have to come from if not from the fucking left?

Does it have to be you? No. Does it have to be women? Also no. It's probably good if it's men, and especially men who themselves walked with the right at some point (if someone has already been pulled into the right, rather than catching them before).

It can be a woman though, if there's someone who wants to do it. I don't mind doing it if someone wants to talk about it. Will I be nice? No, I won't hold back and I will tell them if what they're saying is wrong. Will I coddle them? Fuck no. Will I keep trying if someone clearly isn't listening? No. Will I be compassionate? Yeah, I think I will.

Because compassion is really important when you're trying to keep people from falling into the far-right, or even if you're trying to get them out of it (which again, isn't what we were talking about in the first place).

Here's Pete Simi, professor of Sociology, talking about Life After Hate, an American non-profit that tries to help people leave the far-right:

The organization was started by former hate group members who have been doing a lot of outreach in terms of providing testimonials and trainings to schools and law enforcement and other community groups across the country. The focus of their message is the importance of using compassion to inform prevention and intervention efforts and aftercare for individuals who want to change their lives but may need various types of support. I think LAH is a very promising development and I hope it will continue to find the resources that it needs to expand the services it provides.

Being compassionate doesn't mean coddling. It doesn't mean holding their hands and it doesn't even mean being nice to them. It doesn't exclude holding people accountable for their views. It does require patience, though. And I understand that if someone is holding the belief that you are not allowed to exist, that isn't something you can do. And that's fine. It doesn't have to be you.

But somebody has to do it, and it has to be someone on the left.

Now none of that means that the suffering of men under patriarchy, and the fact that this has to be addressed loud and clear, are more important than the suffering that women, and especially women whose oppression intersects with other levels of oppression. I've seen some tags on reaction posts that stated "omg of course centring men in discussions of gender" - but the post was about men. That was the whole starting point!

Because men do suffer under the patriarchy. And it's pushing them to the right, towards misogyny and racism, unless they develop the necessary critical thinking skills to understand their own suffering. And you know who thinks so too? bell hooks.

Often men, to speak the pain, first turn to the women in their lives and are refused a hearing. In many ways women have bought into the patriarchal masculine mystique. Asked to witness a male expressing feelings, to listen to those feelings and respond, they may simply turn away.

Since men have yet to organize a feminist men’s movement that would proclaim the rights of men to emotional awareness and expression, we will not know how many men have indeed tried to express feelings, only to have the women in their lives tune out or be turned off.

It is a form of abuse that this culture continues to deny. Boys socialized to become patriarchs are being abused. As victims of child abuse via socialization in the direction of the patriarchal ideal, boys learn that they are unlovable.

The patriarchal model that tells men that they must be in control at all times is at odds with cultivating the capacity to be responsible, which requires knowing when to control and when to surrender and let go. Responsible men are capable of self-criticism. If more men were doing the work of self-critique, then they would not be wounded, hurt, or chagrined when critiqued by others, especially women with whom they are intimate. Engaging in self-critique empowers responsible males to admit mistakes. When they have wronged others, they are willing to acknowledge wrongdoing and make amends. When others have wronged them, they are able to forgive. The ability to be forgiving is part of letting go of perfectionism and accepting vulnerability. At the same time, constructive criticism works only when it is linked to a process of affirmation. Giving affirmation is an act of emotional care. Wounded men are not often able to say anything positive. They are the grump-and-groan guys; cloaked in cynicism, they stand at an emotional distance from themselves and others. Affirmation brings us closer together. It is the highest realization of compassion and empathy with others. One of the negative aspects of antimale feminist critiques of masculinity was the absence of any affirmation of that which is positive and potentially positive in male being. When individuals, including myself, wrote about the necessity of affirming men and identifying them as comrades in struggle, we were often labeled male-identified. The women who attacked us did not understand that it was possible to critique patriarchy without hating men. Indeed, recognizing all the ways that males have been victimized by patriarchy (even though they received rewards) was a way of including men in feminist movement, welcoming their presence and honoring their contribution.

“in order to create loving males we need to love males” means teach boys that they can be themselves without being less of a man. it means being encouraging and nurturing of their emotions so they don’t become cold and hateful. it means showing boys, early in their lives, that they have value outside of what our society deems proper masculinity. what it doesn’t mean is that it’s our job to handhold men who see women as walking sex toys through the concept of empathy, and maybe if we’re really really nice to them and don’t say things that hurt their feelings they’ll stop killing us for saying no

[fluenzed]

AFTER OBX— JJ MAYBANK FANFICTION

fanfiction | jj maybank | alternative ending | obx | 4674 words

warning: mention of sex, drugs, alcohol and violence

______________________________________________

CHAPTER 2 — "Let's change that, let's go fishing."

Somewhere on the ocean

The men themselves were as weathered as the table they sat around, each with eyes that held stories darker than the night outside. Their voices were low, rough with age, experience, and the heaviness of lives led outside the law. They leaned close, speaking in quiet, gravelly tones about the blue crown and a group of teenagers who had once managed to outwit men like them.

"Hard to believe," muttered a grizzled man with a deep scar slashing across his cheek. He was the oldest among them, a career soldier turned mercenary who bore the scars of battles in places that didn't make the news. "Kids from the Outer Banks, finding a treasure hunters been after for decades. They're smart—I'll give 'em that."

"Smart?" scoffed the man sitting across from him, fingers tracing the rim of a half-empty glass. His hair was cropped short, a faded tattoo trailing up his neck, and his face had the hollow look of a man who hadn't slept peacefully in years. "More like lucky. Besides, that was two years ago. Last sighting was in Morocco. They're just ghosts now."

The fourth man leaned forward, his dark eyes gleaming with a predatory intent. He was younger than the others, with the wiry build of someone who'd spent his life in pursuit. "Ghosts, maybe, but they left a trail. And I've found them."

At his words, a dangerous silence fell over the group. The man at the head of the table leaned back, an amused gleam lighting up his otherwise cold eyes. Simon was the kind of man who had built his fortune on ruthlessness, calculating every move to ensure his survival—and his dominance. He was a legend in certain circles, not only in the United States but worldwide, known for the treasures he'd hunted and the people he'd left ruined in his path. The underworld whispered his name with both respect and fear.

"So," Simon said at last, his voice like ice, soft but sharp, "what's the plan?"

"We find him—and kill him," Simon's own voice answered, his words soft yet brutal. He smirked, a cruel edge pulling at his lips. "I don't care about the others. I want the blond one."

One of the men raised an eyebrow. "Why him, Simon? Why not just deal with them all at once?"

"Because," Simon said, his tone laced with venom, "he stole from me. Not once, but twice. And that makes him my problem. His friends? They're just distractions. But him? He's the brain behind all this. JJ Maybank."

The room stilled as Simon reached down, pulling a worn leather satchel onto his lap. From within it, he retrieved a small metal box, which he opened with a flick of his thumb. As he tilted the box over the table, a cascade of photographs spilled out, the glossy surfaces catching the dim light. Each photograph showed the same blond figure—JJ Maybank—captured at different times, in different places, living a life of cautious normalcy, unaware of the eyes that followed him.

"Here," Simon said, spreading the photographs out with deliberate precision. The other men leaned in, studying the images. JJ was caught in routine moments: driving a faded car down a narrow cobbled street, leaving a modest house, slipping in and out of stores along a sunlit street in Porto. Always moving, always cautious, yet somehow, always found.

"He faked his death, then ran to Porto, thinking he could vanish. Clever move," Simon murmured, a grudging respect in his voice. "But not clever enough."

The scarred man smirked, tapping one of the photos with a hardened finger. "So, how do we take him?"

Simon's gaze hardened, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried a deadly finality. "With precision. We need a plan that accounts for every move. One mistake, and he's gone. This man is not easy to catch."

A man who had been silent until now leaned forward, his voice low and measured. "We don't have to wait for him to make a move. Someone's already in Porto, watching him. They've been there for days, tracking his every step, waiting for word."

The others froze, glancing at him. Simon's eyes narrowed, the predatory gleam sharpening as he absorbed this information. "Who?" he asked, his voice laced with quiet urgency.

"A contact," the man explained. "One of ours. A local who knows the city well. They've been keeping an eye on JJ, blending into the crowds, following him without being seen. Every move, every pattern—he's not alone in this anymore. We'll know where he goes next, before he does."

Simon's lips curled into a dark smile, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Perfect. We move when he least expects it. And when we make our move, we don't leave anything to chance. Make no mistake—when I catch him, it's over. We can't afford another failure."

The others nodded in agreement, tension building in the small cabin as the details of their plan began to take shape. Outside, the distant rumble of thunder hinted at an approaching storm, as if the sea itself was preparing for what was to come. The unseen watcher in Porto, meanwhile, already held the first thread in this dangerous game. Soon, the pieces would start to fall into place, and JJ Maybank would learn just how thin the line between hunter and hunted could be.

_______________________

JJ woke up before dawn, the chill in the air sharp as a knife against his skin, seeping through the cracked window he'd been meaning to fix for weeks. The cold November sea breeze swept into his small room, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean mingled with the sharp bite of winter. He shivered, his nose and cheeks already flushed red from the cold before he'd even left his bed.

For a few long moments, he lay there under the thin blanket, blinking at the dim light creeping through the blinds. He pulled himself up slowly, stiff from the cold and from the memories that had made sleep so elusive. Stifling a yawn, he moved across the cramped room, bare feet against the icy wooden floor, and opened the fridge. Empty, as usual. Only a half-empty bottle of orange juice sat on the shelf, a reminder he hadn't gone shopping in days. He sighed, took a swig straight from the bottle, and set it back in place before padding to the bathroom.

Peeling off his clothes, he stepped into the shower and turned the water as hot as it would go. The warmth hit him like a wave, instantly melting the tension from his muscles and fogging up the small, cracked mirror over the sink. JJ closed his eyes, letting the water pound against his shoulders and draw him deep into his thoughts—the life he'd left behind, the friends he missed, and the constant weight of looking over his shoulder. Here, in Porto, he was supposed to be invisible, safe. But some days, he could still feel a faint, lingering unease prickling at his skin.

After a long few minutes, he turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist. As he stepped out of the shower, he wiped the steam from the mirror, catching sight of his own reflection. He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes dark from endless nights spent worrying, planning, and occasionally, regretting. With a sigh, he reached for his toothbrush, brushed his teeth, and tried to shake the weight of the past from his mind.

Once he was dressed—worn jeans, a sweater a little frayed at the cuffs, and an old jacket—JJ grabbed his keys and made his way out to the small store he'd been working at. It was a modest marina shop.It wasn't much, but it gave him a purpose and kept him connected to the sea he loved.

The routine was the same every day, a kind of comforting monotony that helped him disappear in plain sight. He unlocked the door, flipped the lights on, and inhaled the familiar scent of wood, sea salt, and oil. Before opening, he swept the small floor, dusted off the shelves, and stocked a few supplies he'd unloaded from a shipment the day before. Next, he opened the counter register and checked the mail, sorting through bills and junk. As he moved, he mentally ran through his to-do list for the day: inventory, checking appointments, ordering replacement parts for a few local fishermen's boats.

As he flipped through the appointment book, JJ found himself lost in thought again, wondering how long he could keep this quiet life up, how long he could remain unnoticed. The familiar weight of his routine settled over him, keeping him grounded—but he knew, deep down, that he couldn't hide forever.

While JJ was going through his usual tasks that afternoon, the gentle chime of the bell rang out, cutting through his concentration. He lifted his head, expecting a regular customer, but froze when he saw the figure in the doorway. A tall man with broad shoulders and an air that radiated authority and unease had entered the shop, his movements slow and deliberate. The man didn't bother with a greeting, didn't even nod in acknowledgment. He just locked eyes with JJ for a tense moment, his gaze lingering like he was sizing him up.

JJ's pulse quickened, the atmosphere shifting, the once-familiar shop feeling suddenly claustrophobic. The man's presence unsettled him, his worn clothes and hardened demeanor giving him the appearance of someone familiar with dark places, someone who wasn't here for boat supplies. Still, the stranger strolled over to the shelves, his eyes gliding over the merchandise with an odd intensity, as if pretending to browse bait and tackle. JJ couldn't shake the feeling that this man was watching him more closely than he was watching the shelves.

Just as his instincts were about to tell him to say something, the bell rang again. JJ turned, exhaling with relief as Alex walked in, her bright smile bringing a much-needed change to the room's heavy atmosphere.

"Hey, you," she said warmly, her eyes lighting up. JJ felt his shoulders ease a little. She held out a few bills. "I came by to give you the money for the boat."

With Alex here, it was easier to ignore the tall stranger lingering in the back of the shop. JJ turned his attention to the counter and started counting the cash she handed him. "You gave me too much," he noted, separating out the right amount and holding the rest back to her.

"Keep it," Alex insisted, her voice soft yet firm. "You've helped me a lot. I want you to have it."

JJ frowned and shook his head. "You serious? I don't want it." He extended the money back to her, but Alex only raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"It's either you take it, or I burn it," she replied, crossing her arms with a determined smile.

JJ let out a reluctant chuckle, feeling the warmth in her insistence. "Thank you," he said, a little embarrassed as he took the cash and tucked it away. He glanced toward the back of the store, his mind drifting to the stranger—but the man had vanished, slipping out unnoticed at some point during their exchange.

JJ couldn't shake the odd feeling lingering from that brief encounter, but Alex's presence helped him refocus. She continued talking, her words easing him back into normalcy.

"So," she said after a pause, a hint of nerves in her smile, "there's this beach party tonight in Vila Nova de Gaia. Thought you might want to come? Not a date," she added quickly, flustered, making JJ laugh a little at her honesty.

"Sure, I'm in," he said, smiling. "Want me to pick you up?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yeah, that'd be great." She fished her phone out of her bag and handed it to him. "Here, put your number in."

JJ took her phone, amused. "If you wanted my number, you could've just asked," he teased, noticing a slight blush creep up her cheeks. He entered his number, sent a quick text to himself, and handed the phone back to her.

"Okay, I close up at seven. I'll come by at eight?"

"Sounds good," she said, grinning. "See you then."

After she left, JJ tried to shake off the lingering tension from the strange man's visit, but his instincts wouldn't let it go. Something about that encounter felt wrong, his gut telling him the man hadn't just been browsing for fishing supplies. But for now, he tried to ignore it, focusing on the work left to do.

**Porto, 7 p.m.**

As the day wound down, JJ went through his evening routine, tidying up the store, putting items back in place, and counting the cash register before locking up. He headed to his apartment to freshen up, swapping his work clothes for a pair of jeans, a plain black jacket, and a faded red cap he pulled low over his eyes. Checking his reflection one last time, he shrugged, grabbed his car keys, and headed out.

On the drive to Alex's place, he felt his nerves ease a little. When he pulled up, he barely had a chance to text her before she stepped outside, flashing a warm smile. He smiled back, not even realizing how naturally it came.

"Hey, you," she said, getting into the car and buckling up. She glanced at him with a smirk. "Kinda dressed up tonight, huh?"

He chuckled. "Just trying to match your vibe."

Alex was dressed in a fitted gray sweater under a worn leather jacket that matched her brown boots. Her perfume filled the car, a subtle scent that somehow made him feel calmer.

"Vila Nova de Gaia, right?" JJ asked, tapping the location into his GPS.

She nodded. "Yeah, it's at Praia da Baía."

He entered the address, turned up the radio, and they set off. The drive was mostly quiet, with both of them humming along to songs, sharing the occasional glance or laugh. The silence between them felt comfortable, the kind of silence that didn't need filling.

After twenty minutes, they arrived. Alex hopped out first, and JJ followed, locking the car behind him as he glanced around at the beach, now lit up with a string of lights and a distant thrum of music.

"Ready for some Super Bock?" she asked, flashing a grin.

"Oh yeah baby, always," he replied, pulling a joint from behind his ear and lighting it with a smirk. They shared a laugh and started walking toward the lively beach, blending into the crowd as the waves lapped against the shore.

Despite the lightness of the night, JJ's mind flickered back to the stranger in the shop earlier. He tried to push it aside, to enjoy the present. But years of looking over his shoulder had taught him that even in moments like this, vigilance was his best protection.

As they walked, he caught Alex glancing at him, her eyes warm and trusting. He liked her company, more than he wanted to admit, but he couldn't shake the feeling that trusting anyone too much could be dangerous. The chill of the evening air reminded him to stay cautious, but for now, he focused on the warmth of the moment, following Alex's laugh toward the lights of the beach party.

As they stepped onto the beach, the ocean breeze greeted them with a cool, salty tang, tugging at their clothes and threading through their hair. They headed straight to the makeshift bar nestled between tiki torches and strings of lights that cast a warm, flickering glow over the sand. JJ felt a sense of anticipation buzzing in his veins. It had been too long since he'd felt anything close to excitement like this—too long since he'd let himself just be.

"Alright, let's start slow," Alex said with a playful grin, leaning over the bar to order two Super Bock beers. The bartender cracked open two bottles, sliding them her way, and she passed one to JJ, who was taking a leisurely drag from his joint.

They walked down closer to the water, their feet sinking into the cool sand as they moved away from the music and noise, finding a large, flat rock by the shore. Sitting down, they had a perfect view of the waves crashing in rhythm against the rocks, illuminated in part by the moonlight. JJ exhaled a soft sigh, a genuine smile spreading across his face. The sound of the waves felt calming, like a lullaby he hadn't known he needed.

He took a sip of his beer, feeling the chill of it spread through him. "Man, this... this is so peaceful," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the sound of the surf.

"I know," she replied, her voice soft, her gaze fixed on the ocean. "I come here to clear my head sometimes. Just listen to the waves... it feels like they're washing everything away." She took the joint from him, took a slow, steady drag, and passed it back.

JJ took a slow sip of his beer, letting the cool bitterness settle on his tongue as he stared out at the ocean. It had been a long time since he'd felt this calm. Even when he was with his friends—his compass through all the chaos—they had always been running, always looking over their shoulders, always scared for their lives. There was no time to breathe, let alone reflect. But now, here on this quiet stretch of coastline, there were no enemies, no rush, no fear. Just the steady rhythm of the waves, the faint rustle of the breeze, and the warmth of Alex sitting beside him. They weren't talking, and they didn't need to. The joint passed between them, smoke curling up into the night sky, their silence speaking louder than words.

The moment stretched until Alex finally broke it, her voice soft and curious. "So, it's been what, two years since you came from Australia, you said last time?" She turned her head toward him, her features illuminated by the silvery light of the moon.

JJ nodded, taking another sip of his beer. "Yeah," he said, his voice low, almost contemplative.

"So why did you choose Porto of all places?" she asked, her tone casual but genuinely curious.

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I don't know. I heard it was calm, and cheap. I needed that at the time." He paused, glancing at her before looking back at the ocean. "But it's more than that. I can still do what I love—stay close to the ocean, go fishing, fix boats, sell bait. That's my kind of happiness." He chuckled lightly, meeting her gaze with a glimmer of amusement. "It's like having my old life in a new one, except..." He hesitated, his smile fading slightly. "I'm all alone."

Alex raised an eyebrow, her expression inquisitive. "But what's the point of starting a new life if you're still living like the old one you had?"

JJ smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You wouldn't understand, even if I told you," he said, his voice heavy with unspoken truths. He quickly shifted the focus back to her. "What about you? What do you like to do?"

Alex sighed, leaning back slightly on the rock. "Honestly? I don't know," she admitted. "I'm mostly alone because... I don't know, I just always feel like a freak around people. I like calm, but.. Sometimes I wouldn't mind a little chaos. Routine gets boring after a while » She laughed, but it was a short, self-deprecating sound.

JJ nodded, his expression softening

"I like being alone, but I also kind of crave people's attention," she admitted. "Does that make any sense?"

"It does," JJ said, his tone more serious than he intended. He held her gaze for a moment before smirking. "Seems like we're both freaks."

"Yep, we are," she said with a playful grin, raising her beer toward him. "Cheers to that."

They clinked bottles, and the sound was small but resonated in the quiet night.

"And you?" Alex asked, tilting her head. "Do you have any friends here? Or are they all back in Australia?"

JJ cleared his throat, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. "I told you, I don't have friends. I'm on my own." He shrugged, but there was an almost imperceptible tightness in his voice. "I enjoy my own company."

Alex studied him for a moment, then smiled faintly. "What about your family?"

JJ let out a small laugh, though it lacked humor. "We like each other best from afar. We always fight when we're too close."

Alex chuckled, shaking her head. "You're pretty mysterious, J'."

He chuckled back, the sound a little lighter this time. "Should I grab two more beers?"

She smirked. "Maybe a rum for me."

JJ raised an eyebrow, surprised but amused. "You don't look like someone who drinks rum."

Alex grinned mischievously. "I'm just trying to match your vibe."

He laughed, shaking his head as he stood. "Alright, one rum coming up."

At the bar, JJ ordered the drinks, his gaze wandering. His eyes caught on a man sitting by a fire pit, surrounded by laughter and chatter. Something about him seemed familiar. JJ frowned, realizing it was the same man who had been in his shop earlier. But now, the man was laughing, relaxed—a stark contrast to the wary demeanor JJ had clocked before.

JJ exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. Maybe he was just being paranoid. After everything he'd been through, it was hard not to be. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to let his guard down. To start truly living this peaceful life he'd come all this way to find.

The barman slid two glasses of rum across the counter, and JJ carried them back to where Alex was waiting, her silhouette outlined against the moonlit waves.

"Here you go," he said, handing her a glass.

"Thanks," Alex said softly, her voice almost drowned by the sound of the waves. She raised her glass toward him, and they toasted again, the quiet moment stretching comfortably between them.

They sipped in silence, letting the rhythm of the ocean fill the space. Together, but still alone with their thoughts.

JJ glanced at her as she looked out over the water, her face lit softly by the moon. For a moment, he felt everything around him fade—the sounds of the party, the distant laughter and music—and all he saw was her. Alex, with her eyes bright and her hair catching in the breeze, looking as though she belonged right there, woven into the fabric of the night. She seemed both serene and strong, like she carried her own secret burdens but had found a way to bear them with grace.

Their eyes met, and he felt his heart jolt, a warmth stirring in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, a mix of serenity and a kind of fear he hadn't felt in a long time. Being with her felt like standing at the edge of something vast and uncharted. Part of him wanted to pull back, to protect himself, to keep his walls up. He hadn't let anyone close in years—not since everything fell apart, not since he'd learned that trust could be a dangerous game.

But with her... there was something different. Something that whispered to him, urging him to let his guard down, if only a little. She held a kindness in her eyes that softened the edges of his fear, made him want to lean into the moment. But even as he fought that instinct, he found himself inching closer, his heart racing against his better judgment.

"Thank you for inviting me tonight," he said softly, realizing the words were genuine.

Alex's gaze softened. "I'm glad you came." She offered a small, knowing smile. "I know it's... it's not easy to let people in. To let your guard down."

He felt a pang of surprise at her words. She seemed to understand him, maybe more than he understood himself. JJ felt a strange mix of comfort and unease, and yet he couldn't look away.

A gust of wind swept through, carrying the salty scent of the ocean between them. As the waves crashed in the background, she slowly reached out, taking his hand in hers. It was an instinct, a moment of connection that felt as natural as breathing. Her fingers intertwined with his, warm and reassuring, and for the first time in what felt like ages, JJ felt the weight of his past lighten, just a little.

In that quiet, moonlit space, with the waves as their witness, JJ felt himself daring to hope. He didn't know if he was ready, didn't know if he could trust again fully. But in that moment, he let himself feel—just a little bit more than he had before.

"I know your dad is a fisherman," JJ said, his voice low and thoughtful as he swirled the rum in his glass. He paused for a moment, watching the way the moonlight danced across the waves, then turned to Alex with a curious glint in his eyes. "Have you ever been fishing?"

Alex's face lit up, her expression shifting from casual to genuinely amused. She let out a laugh, warm and bright, a sound that seemed to blend effortlessly with the crash of the waves. "No, never," she admitted, shaking her head as her smile widened. "Can you believe that? A fisherman's daughter who's never held a fishing rod." Her tone was playful, but there was a hint of self-deprecation in her words.

JJ's lips curved into a soft, genuine smile, and for a moment, he simply looked at her, as if taking in the surprising contradiction. "Let's change that," he said, his voice carrying a quiet determination. "Let's go fishing tomorrow."

Alex blinked, caught off guard by his sudden proposition, but then her surprise melted into excitement. "Really?" she asked, her eyes lighting up like a child being offered a long-awaited treat.

"Yeah," he said, his gaze steady and warm. "I'll show you how to cast a line, maybe even reel in a big one. We'll take the boat out early, just us and the water. It's peaceful, you'll see."

Her smile softened, a flicker of something more vulnerable passing across her face before she nodded. "I'd love to," she said, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were afraid the moment might slip away if she spoke too loudly.

JJ grinned, a boyish charm breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. "Alright then, it's a plan," he said, raising his glass slightly. "But I warn you, it's not all serene sunsets and gentle waves. Fishing takes patience."

Alex laughed again, the sound carrying into the night. "I think I can handle it," she teased, nudging him lightly with her shoulder.

"Good," JJ replied, leaning back against the rock and gazing out at the ocean. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stir within him—a quiet anticipation, not just for tomorrow, but for the idea of sharing something he loved with someone who might come to love it too.