#fuck it All controllers should be fucking identical entirely

[gender-euphowrya]

y'know how the EU forced tech manufacturers to all start using The Same type of port for their charging cables to be more consumer & environment friendly

we should do that but with like the button layout on xbox & switch controllers

[meglosthegreat]

I see a lot of posts on here talking about the Solas/Elgar'nan segment in Blood of Arlathan and how it's one of the best scenes in the game, and they'd be right, but I don't see enough people talking about how comically the whole thing is undercut by quite possibly the most poorly-conceived, terribly-implemented looney-tunes-ass sequence in gaming history that surrounds it.

Like you show up with your friends to this Venatori party, and you're like great, we're sneaking in! Time for disguises. How convenient that these Venatori guys all wear hoods, right? Should be a piece of cake if we're all, you know, wearing hoods that would helpfully hide our identities. But no. We all go waltzing in with our whole-ass faces exposed, you know, the group of guys that have been murdering Venatori left and right and who Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain have definitely all seen in person before. Oh, and don't worry about walking into this notoriously racist elf-sacrificing cult if you happen to be an elf! You're only here in disguise so that you can rescue a GROUP OF ELVES THEY'RE GOING TO SACRIFICE but it's ok because you're dressed as a mercenary and not a dalish so it's all good don't worry about it :) :)

Then you get into this fucking party and oh my fucking god it's like they decided to take all of the most comically over-the-top stereotypes of villainy and put them on display. Because why not! The Venatori are all sickos anyway so of course they'd be out here doing sicko things! There's some guys pulling a halla apart with blood magic! There's other guys using slaves as benches! They're all laughing and joking about how EVIL they are, hahaha, how cool is that? The fucking guy from D'Meta's Crossing is here if you don't let him die, because he's a fucked up evil sicko too! You're supposed to be shocked at this hideous display; recoil in horror, even!

And who do you bring with you to help get through this crowd of absolute lunatics? NEVE FUCKING GALLUS. You know, the person so well-known in Minrathous that a Dalish elf living in Arlathan KNEW HER BY REPUTATION. Yup, Neve Gallus with her INTENSELY RECOGNIZABLE PROSTHETIC just waltzes up to some guy and he just lets her in. Because being EVIL also makes you incapable of coherent thought, apparently.

And then. AND THEN. You walk across the bridge where Elgar'nan makes his thought-sounds at you, and YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING PARTY is already there, just hanging out nbd. Also not wearing hoods or any kind of disguises that couldn't instantly be seen through by a five-year-old with amnesia but ok, cool. Why did we bother walking through all those sickos then when we could've just taken the secret back entrance like the rest of them, idk.

But just when you think you've reached peak stupidity, it keeps going. You're now standing there, at the front of a crowd of about twelve people, approximately five feet away from Elgar'nan himself, inexplicably blending in, when the big guy puts the mind control whammy on everyone. Oh no, you think. We've been found out! Here's the part in the plan where things begin to go wrong! NO. Your mage friends SECRETLY PERFORM MAGICAL GESTURES to block the mind control, and then you LITERALLY FUCKING SIDLE OFF STAGE LEFT without ANYONE NOTICING. I should reiterate that at this point, you are still about FIVE FEET AWAY FROM ELGAR'NAN and his fucking ARCHDEMON.

And to conclude this absolute comedy of idiocy, as soon as you enter back into combat mode, you immediately ditch all of your disguises. And of course then, ONLY THEN, Elgar'nan notices you've been there. Cut to the end of the actual good sequence, this dramatic conversation performed by excellent voice actors and written miles better than most other things in this game, and you reach your final prize: about six guys trapped in a little cube. Cool, you tell yourself. This was definitely worth it. You take your fade-to-black teleporter back to the Lighthouse and they're never heard from again.

This was the quest that broke me. This was the moment that all hope for Veilguard finally snapped. I consider myself to be a very resilient person in the face of camp and goofy writing, but this was too much disbelief for my brain to suspend. The mental gymnastics necessary to make this whole sequence make any kind of sense were simply beyond me. Even Solas's dulcet tones could not salvage it for me after that.

[0alix0]

Overusage of Lore

a lot of people tend to say that bioware put little to no lore into Veilguard, and i might be on a minority on this to me it's way too much and way too shallow

The entire game feels like writers just scream at you "Look at all the magical thing we have!! So we have Titans! And Evanuris! And Illuminati Those Across the See! And-- are you listening? You better listen cuz there are more! We have Shadow Dragons! We have Griffons! We--"

OMG calm down it's not a fucking Warcraft

the best thing in DA was the way it beautifully showed real life issues through the lens of medieval fantasy world.

The dalish weren't so fascinating because they had an entire language made for them and pretty tattoos. They were fascinating because they were enslaved, fought for freedom, then got their land taken away YET STILL continued to fight for survival, for their cultural identity, their children and their children's children, for freedom. Literally combination of native american's and jewish history. Because despite having one goal they all had different approach and opinion about other of their kin: city elves (those disconnected from their culture) and half-elves ("can they be considered elves?" "should they be allowed to be a part of dalish?").

The city elf origin wasn't so memorable because every npc had a backstory with a length of bible. It was memorable because it was the most obvious analogy on racial oppression, segregation, colonialism and fetishism in the entire franchise. Because it had the guts to actually show in details the horrors of these things.

Broodmothers weren't so horrifying because it's a female mixture of jubba hutt and a fucking pudge from dota with a detailed explanation their anatomy. They were horrifying because they were paralleling a very real misogyny, mistreatment, the way how women in some countries are seen as nothing but a walking uteruses, where the only thing they're good for is to give birth

AND bioware doubled it while doing the same thing with Orzammar, cast system & Rica!

The Circles weren't so interesting because we've got dozens of pages in WoT explaining their hierarchy/fraternities. No, they were interesting because it was literally a bunch of medieval GULAGs with a function of a mental hospital, it showed what mistreatments happen there, the abuse, child abduction and enforcement of religion.... And from the side of templars it was a discussion about professional deformation, addictions and the way high ranking people abuse those to control their underlings.

..... And you know, if we were back in origins, griffons, for example, would've probably been used as a parallel on irl eco terrorism. it might've been about how Wardens despite their good nature unintentionally bonded the general association of the entire animal species to their order and abused this connection to the point when the species was beyond preservation!

and btw, then that decision in davrin's quest would actually had any meaning, instead of throwing wardens into mud (again) and turning isseya into a villain for no fkn reason.

lore is only good as long as it's used for purpose, when it has things to discuss, not just exist

i don't fucking care about titans/evanuris/and other shit because they're just a 30 pages long article in codex and WoT trying to explain magic and write DA timeline almost to a fucking mesozoic era. it's BORING. Get me emotionally invested, then i'll care

[palmanatomy]

Addressing the debate about if tim takes up a new identity, what should it be. So far, we know in canon that tim has been Robin, Red Robin, Robin again, Drake (blame bart), and Robin again. He's never actually taken a name for himself, Red Robin was just what the newspapers seemed to call him and it was also Jasons identity. Even Drake was Barts idea after they went to alternate timeline and fought evil versions of themselves (again) and bart thought it was a great name.

So, my argue is that even though names like cardinal, rook, jackdaw, red hawk are all interesting, I think that Tim wouldn't really make up an identity for himself and would just kinda roll with whatever the news calls him. HOWEVER. Tim also values his loved ones with a high regard and he incorporates a piece of them when hes lost them with himself. For example, Kons death made him change the iconic Robin colours to red and black to honour him. I know that the red robin suit was already existing but he wore it after Bruces death and I like to believe that the cowl was a nod to Bruce. When he was in the unternet and we see how he perceives himself as (probably my favourite tim costume), his costume kinda looks like nightwings with the red depiction and this is when tim and dicks relationship is strained (a bit of a reach, i know, but like. Look at it.).

And what does Tim love more than anything in the world? His car, redbird. DC has not included redbird in ANY comics since he had to sell it to alfred for like a million bucks when his dads company went bankrupt and I have been scouring, searching through the wilderness that is modern dc for this fucking car. I do not know where it is and its killing me. Tim loved that car. He is a car guy to his core and the lack of rebird in modern dc has lead me to believe that redbird has died.

Therefore! Tim should be Redbird, honouring the loss of his beloved car and incorporating it into his own identity. it still incorporates the red part of his identity but it leaves robin entirely. Also, on a more serious note, in his chats with Lonnie Machin he uses the alias Redbird and other villains have called him redbird before so like. its not impossible. And i miss redbird like actually him being a car guy was so important to me and like tims relationship with cars is literally so important. like secretly shipping a batmobile to san francisco, being the only one that the supercycle would let drive it, being so proud of his car and remote controlling it and i just love redbird and i miss it.

thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

[anonymous-dee]

LiuShen Omegaverse Scenario

Okay, a Scum Villain AU has been brewing in my head and I need to share it with the class.

So basically Shen Qingqiu is an Omega who has to disguise himself as an Alpha in order to fit in with the rest of the peak lords. In order to be eligible to become a peak lord, you have to be an Alpha, and thus all of the other peak lords are Alphas. When Shen Qingqiu transmigrated, he realized that the original goods had been hiding his status as an Omega the entire time, and just continued doing it for the sake of his image (and to avoid political drama of course)

So of course, this means that whenever Shen Qingqiu goes into heat, he secludes himself inside the Bamboo House to suffer through them on his own. Even though this is detrimental for his health, he would rather die (again) than out himself, and he would rather die TWICE than to leave the mountain and find an Alpha who would be willing to help him. Yeah. NO.

So basically, one time while Shen Qingqiu is going through his heat, Liu Qingge shows up unexpectedly for one reason or another. He senses something is off with Shen Qingqiu, but it doesn't click for him what's going on at first. That's when Shen Qingqiu realizes that Liu Qingge is not an Alpha.

He's a Beta.

As a Beta, Liu Qingge gets the faintest whiff of Shen Qingqiu's pheromones; because the scent is so light, it takes him a hot minute to realize that they're coming from SQQ. Shen Qingqiu is surprised to learn that Liu Qingge is also hiding his identity and pretending to front as an Alpha, but this also spawns a reluctant thought in his Heat-induced brain.

Maybe Liu Qingge could...help?

He dismisses it at first and is actively trying to get Liu Qingge to LEAVE, but the more adamant he acts, the more Liu Qingge gets suspicious/worried for his health. So finally, Shen Qingqiu makes the impulsive decision to awkwardly ask Liu Qingge for help.

It should be fine, since he's a Beta and not an Alpha. Shen Qingqiu would never ask an Alpha for help. Betas are more gentle and they have better control over their instincts. Liu Qingge is freaking out a little, of course, because he's never done anything intimate before, but also still wants to help Shen Qingqiu through his heat.

So he does, but of course things don't go as planned. In the deepest throes of their passionate love making, Liu Qingge accidentally marks Shen Qingqiu. Now, the mark of a Beta isn't as powerful as the mark of an Alpha, BUT STILL.

Shen Qingqiu is FUCKED. He's freaking out, because "Holy shit, you fucking marked me! This is what I was trying to avoid! Everyone is going to find out that I'm an Omega!" And Liu Qingge is freaking out because "Holy shit, I marked him. I fucked up. I fucked up really bad."

So their solution? They clumsily form the idea to fake a bonding ceremony and pretend to be fated mates. Two Alphas being fated mates is relatively rare, so the two of them can use this as an excuse for why it took so long for them to "notice the spark." One Beta and one Omega pretending to be two Alphas in a functioning relationship and totally not a marriage of convenience.

While all of this is happening, Luo Binghe is in the Endless Abyss, and his timeline is similar to that of the canon universe. Luo Binghe is an Alpha, and still has his heavenly demon heritage. Anyways, he comes back from the Endless Abyss to lay claim on his shizun, only to find out:

His shizun smells different. Luo Binghe has his shizun's scent memorized, and he would immediately be able to tell if another Alpha marked him

He realizes that not only does his shizun smell different, he's actually marked! Taken!

What do you think Luo Binghe will do when he not only realizes that his shizun is an Omega, but that his shizun was marked by a BETA? AND the two of them faked their bonding ceremony?

Oh, he's pissed. He's LIVID.

But Liu Qingge And Shen Qingqiu gradually start to acclimate to the other, and soon their feelings for each other become genuine amidst the broiling political turmoil they will soon be entrenched in.

That's as far as this idea reaches. But I'm having a lot of fun with it. Maybe I'll write something!

Let me know what you think!

[helluvabossrewrite45]

Helluva Boss and the Disappointing Asexual Representation - an Ace Former HB watcher

I am aromantic and asexual. I used to watch helluva boss during the 2020s when it first started. The internet was the only place where I got introduced to lgbt content and people for the first time, including queer media and helluva boss is one of them. I used to question my sexuality of being aroace, lesbian or bisexual until I finally accepted my identity as an aroace (full circle lol) While my aromanticism was easy to accept, Asexuality was a different story due to how the topic, you know, was around sex and it took more time for me to accept that I was also an asexual. Am I open about it? No. Unless you are one of my close friends, you wouldn't have a clue about my actual identity unless you know the labels for it. This is because with how predominant sex-normativity is, asexuality is often invisible to the wider length of society still, even when were more seen than before. And as someone with a queer identity most people wouldn't understand, I had seen the disguised bigotry people do to other queer identities that aren't as easily understood such as trans people, as they would be misgendered if their bad people. These people who misgender claim its for 'respect' but it's really a blatant excuse to openly be bigoted without backlash for it. It's not only the kind of bigotry that is prevalent within social media but also an extremely sneaky bigot method to avoid accountability.

Let's look at how this related to Mammon, an asexual character in HB:

On a surface level, this would just appear to be Bee insulting Mammon for being an asshole with the same connotations that is a well-known motif of the show; sexual references as the punchline. But Mammon being an asexual changes this viewpoint entirely. For one, Bee is ignoring his asexuality with using nobody wanting to fuck him as an insult even though his identity would immediately weakened it. Her sexual insults to him such as "sucking a dick" and "fucking himself" contribute to negating his asexuality even further. the "fucking yourself" aspect is particularly interesting because it frames him as self-centered. Now yes, Mammon is a self-centered character but his asexuality isn't relevant to this at all. By Bee relating his asexuality to his self-centeredness, unintentional or not, thereby reinforces the entitled notion of asexual people being selfish for lacking sexual attraction as if it wasn't out of their control and as if they owe allosexuals their body to be as "normal" as them. It wouldn't be a problem if mammon had openly show his asexuality proudly to rebut Bee's acephobic insults however, he doesn't. From not allowing the opportunity for Mammon to be open with his asexuality, it highlights helluva boss reinforcing invisibility of asexual people. In addition to this, this scene illustrates the disguised bigotry predominant on social media by Bee's acephobia being framed as justified by Mammon being a bad person, as if it related to his asexuality. Therefore, Helluva Boss failed at representing asexuals through contributing to our invisibility as well as encourage disguised bigotry.

Now, Mammon isn't the only asexual character.

Octavia, the only underage character with some significance, the character Rogers referred to as a 'cockblock' for Stolitz, is also asexual.

*Sigh

Her being underage isn't what bothered me. I'm also similar of age to her and young asexuals should be seen in media. Adult Allosexuals would often portray our asexuality as a phase and immature thing for the "real" mature experience later on. I only mentioned her being underage because of how this erasure of our identity by adults also applies to the later that actually bothered me: Rogers referring to her, an asexual minor, "cockblocking" an allosexual achillean relationship. Him referring to her as that is not only gross to say for a teenager that just wanted her father to pay more attention to his family than his affair but also how it can further isolates asexuals from the queer community. It reminded me of the terf comic where an ace was depicted as prudish, immature and whiny during pride month. Referring to her as a "cockblock" over an allosexual queer ship further reinforces these notions; that were too prudish, too immature, too whiny to be apart of the lgbt community, that we "get in the way" of ACTUAL queer people. And I'm worried that not only would her asexuality not even be shown in the show but also how her depiction in the series can reinforce acephobia because while she's not seen as bad as mammon, I know she would get hate in the upcoming episode and it worries me that there's gonna be acephobia involved, especially from how again, Roger depicts her as an obstable for Stolitz.

This show clearly wanted to do something similar to bojack. Vivziepop clearly likes bojack. And I find it very ironic because bojack is one of the few shows, especially at its time, that's one of the best ace representation. All through one character: Todd.

Unlike HB, Todd's asexuality is actually explored in the show. His acceptance of his asexuality, his explorations of his relationships with other aces (such as Yolanda and Maude) and even having him participate in an asexual space assists in making us aces visible, that we exist and are valid for who we are. There's no disguised bigotry, no joke that digs at his asexuality and definitely no implication that he's an obstacle for allosexual relationships. It's an ace character whose identity is recognized and respected in it's media, and that is what Helluva Boss fails at. Rather than letting asexual characters be as open of their sexuality as the other allosexual queer characters, it instead both ignores and even encourages bigotry towards us. That is what made HB's asexual representation to be disappointing from me, a closeted yet proud asexual.

Any of you who is asexual should be proud of your asexuality too. Your not prudish, immature, whiny or self-centered for lacking sexual attraction and you belong in the lgbt community. You don't owe anyone anything to prove your apart of the community because your existence already defies societal norms about sexuality. You are as queer as the rest in the community. You deserve representation that recognizes and validates you for who you are. You matter.

[genderqueerdykes]

trying to convince trans men that they should be more comfortable with “woman terms” i.e. lesbian, dyke, etc. is TERF rhetoric. lesbianism does not include men - i'm sorry to say this includes trans men. we've been trying to fight this for YEARS, because rhetoric like this puts lesbians in danger. please fucking stop. this is terrifying for actual lesbians.

you are a few wrong turns away from straight up saying we HAVE to let men in our spaces. and a few more wrong turns away from advocating for corrective rape (by the way! the person who coined the term “transandrophobia” has a fetish for corrective rape against lesbians and trans women).

please actually think before you spread things because this is dangerous rhetoric. like you are asking to get actual lesbians killed if the wrong men follow this rhetoric

hello, actual lesbian that you mentioned here. i'm a 32 year old butch dyke who has been a butch dyke since i was a kid. i've been a part of the lesbian community my entire life because when i came out as a trans man, the only place for me to go was to queer "womens" spaces. also you just straight up lied about the coiner of the term transandrophobia. it was not genuine assault, it was consensual indulgence in a kink. kink is not inherently REAL assault. stop making shit up to make transmascs and trans men sound worse. you're doing this on purpose.

YOU are the problem. no, i will never shut up or stop talking about this because you are the problem and you are the one causing people to get hurt because you are insisting that women cant EVER hurt each other when that's not true. you're creating an echochamber for radfems to brainwash vulnerable women into thinking that women can never hurt them so that radfems can control the way you think, act and feel. you have been absolutely brainwashed by terfs.

you are a few wrong turns away from straight up saying we HAVE to let men in our spaces.

they're right turns because we DO!

some lesbians are or are currently but may not be men in the future. you're scaring the ever loving hell out of trans women who haven't come out yet, but think they might be trans lesbians. you are leaving out and scaring the shit out of transfem lesbians who cant pass or visibly be out. youre potentially kicking out transfem eggs because they "look too scary" or 'look like men'. you're guilting trans women who used to be men and making them feel like evil monsters for something they had no control over. you're making trans women who are also men feel like garbage.

some lesbians are genderfluid, or bigender, or nonbinary. you're failing to accept genderfluid lesbians. you're failing to accept TWO-SPIRIT lesbians who are also men. not only is this transphobic but it's now racist because you're denying people with a cultural identity from being lesbians. there are genderqueer lesbians. there are butches who are men. if you think butches who are men deserve to be kitched out, you're a butchphobe and i don't want to ever hear another thing about lesbian rights out of your mouth because this isn't about lesbian rights, you don't give two singular fucks about real lesbians, all you care about is pushing your radfem agenda.

also this one is massively important because it shows that you just don't care for individual lesbians at all. some lesbians are fucking scared shitless when they first join queer spaces and need to bring support. you do realize lesbians have male family members and friends, you realize this, right? queer spaces are also open to the allies in the queer person's family. you're completely leaving out allies who want to learn more about lesbianism. you're making it next to impossible to teach other people about lesbianism because you think you're so special that the entirety of manhood is out to get you. have you ever been to an IRL queer space for more than a few moments? you have to realize that they allow cishet family members and friends to come. and people who are questioning and curious. that "man" you're seeing at the lesbian meetup could be a questioning transfem, and it looks like you just shot yourself in the fucking foot.

this is going to hurt literally no one and in fact it will stop other queer people from getting hurt because you are the one excluding real lesbians from the community and harming real people, including women. i can't trust someone who thinks like this to not misgender trans women and transfems when it's convenient. some trans women used to be men. some trans women still are men. some cis women are men. some are multigender, genderfluid... you would kick out a woman who's also a man?

whether or not you realize it, this mentality is hurting women because you're teaching each other youre too stupid, weak and incompentent to stand up to men. do you genuinely think other women are so goddamn stupid and weak that they can't defend themselves against men? that they aren't smart enough to avoid dangerous advances? that they aren't capable of shutting down dangerous atmospheres and behaviors? that they're incapable of causing physical harm or defending themselves.

you are not so special that the entirety of manhood is out to get you. yes men can be dangerous to be around, but not all men around you are fiending to rape and assault you. you have to get past that line of thinking because it's making you dangerous, and isolating you from society because all you can do is wallow in paranoid thinking and blame men for your problems that you refuse to tackle on your own. you can't blame men for you REFUSING to move past your trauma. pathologically avoiding a gender doesn't work. it is your fault you are so scared at this point. keeping yourself scared makes you vulnerable. men are not waiting in every single bush waiting to jump you, you have to move past this line of thinking.

none of what you said is even remotely true. you really have to step outside of your radfem echo chamber and speak to real lesbians. lesbians are and have always been more diverse than just being cis women loving cis women. and no, i don't believe you when you say you include trans women because i have a sneaking suspicion that trans women who don't pass hard enough don't count as women with this line of thinking. i do not trust you to not misgender trans women when it is convenient for you to push your agenda about how men and "certain people" are evil.

there have been men in the lesbian community since the start and we're not going to go away just because you're scared of people who will not and have not hurt you. you think you have the world figured out but you're wallowing in pity and blaming your trauma on people who haven't hurt you. you are so entrenched in your suffering and misery that you think that you have to. you are so entitled that you think the entire lesbian community should warp itself to what you want, but you even are you? why should we listen to you? do you care about anyone but your goddamn self? i don't know if you do. you sound very entitled and selfish. you sound like you believe the lesbian community owes you something. it doesn't. you owe masc and male lesbians respect.

i hope some day you learn how to be kinder to yourself and the people around you some day. having such a negative view of strangers is what's getting you hurt, because you're laser focused on the men who can hurt you, you fail to see that women can and have been abusing you your entire life. women are capable of abuse. women are capable of raping and killing each other. you are not inherently safe just because you want to be around women

this is such a sad way to see life. womanhood does not mean living in fear of men. if you genuinely think that womanhood is nothing but suffering. open your heart and understand that manhood isn't what hurt you. it's specific people. blaming the gender of "man" instead of individual people takes the accountability away from the individual. you are refusing to hold people accountable. you are the problem. you are the reason why men continue to think it's okay to do these things, because you are reinforcing the behavior from yet another side. wake up. you're the one making things dangerous for real lesbians. you sound much more like a lesbian separatist, political lesbian, and a radfeminist than you do a ""real"" lesbian.

i've been a butch dyke for 32 years. let real lesbians talk. we don't want to hear your radfem bullshit anymore. transmascs, trans men, ftms, and male lesbians belong. i don't care about you being scared about the "WRONG" kind of men. stop profiling men. you're doing the exact same shit misogynists are doing to you. it doesn't solve the problem. it just makes you a miserable asshole who supports bullying and abusing trans people, butches, and those "Real" lesbians you were talking about. you can't invalidate my dykehood, cuz i don't even who know tf you are. i'm a real dyke, and you can absolutely stay scorched about it. you need a lot of healing to do if me being a transmasc butch dyke is hurting you somehow. you can't let other people's identities get to you like that.

[heathercollinsmd]

You know what keeps getting overlooked??? The fact that Santos didn't think the Lorazepam was Langdon's fault at first!! Her justified concern about the seal was rudely dismissed despite this happening during a potential life threatening patient event. So she justifiably brought up the potential of the caps being improperly sealed to Dana, assuming it was a manufacturer issue.

I work in pharmacy as a certified technician. This is a thing that happens! We look into the manufacturer first and research reports/recalls just like Dana showed, then report quality issues to manufacturer/FDA for recalls as needed after research. When it comes to controlled substances like Lorazepam, which is a benzodiazapine/CII, there's often a lot of extra paperwork on top of this because of how it's often diverted.

Santos did not have a crusade against Langdon until things increasingly didn't add up. Then Langdon's increasingly belligerent behavior toward her, due to her personal flaws and also his own shit, escalated to unacceptable. (As Robby pointed out after Langdon literally screamed at her in front of staff and a critical patient).

Wouldn't you also hold a grudge at that point?

Yes, she doesn't report things correctly. But she reaches out to Garcia first because Langdon and Robby are working as a unit throughout this shift and honestly it almost feel like a "boy's club" at certain points. (See Robby telling Langdon he learned from Adamson, and Langdon telling Whitaker he'll teach what Robby taught him). Patrick Ball also alluded to this in his interview after 1x10.

When Santos improperly made the call about the bipap in 1x05?, it was Garcia who pointed out that Santos isn't going to know everything on day one and that the hole could have happened on it's own, only for Langdon and Robby to both give Garcia the biggest Look™. Garcia's been the only one who's treated her with full positive encouragement throughout this entire shift. (However right or wrong on Garcia's part during each various situation).

I'm not going to touch in depth on the race part, but I don't think it's a stretch to imagine that Garcia is trying to encourage Santos to advocate for her education because of their similar personalities and intersectional minority identities.

All this to say... Santos is not the villain you think she is and you should really examine why you might have assumed she was.

additional rambling that's less on the point but still Santos defense:

Does she have flaws? Obviously. Langdon was right that her rude treatment and verbal/hostile harassment of Javadi and Whitaker was unacceptable, especially when they both requested that she stop and she refused. I don't begrudge anyone who doesn't particularly like her as a character because of these flaws, especially when viewers who have suffered workplace harassment might be sensitive to that behavior.

That being said, when Collins and Mohan point out things she needs to work respectfully, she does begin to respond well! (And this is literally her first fucking day, not spread out over weeks like it might feel to the viewer).

[delicatebarness]

You're Mine | Bucky Barnes

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: She's trapped—physically and mentally—as he uses her, and claims her... crossing every boundary they have.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ Minors DNI | Non-Con | gRape | SA | DubCon | Explicit Sexual Content | Physical Restraint | Emotional Manipulation | Home Invasion | Psychological Abuse | Power Imbalance | Identity Concealment | Bucky Barnes

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1644

Masterlist

𝐀/𝐍: So, this is, of course, fictional and has zero plot. And I think all I can say is I'm on day 7 of my period, and this thought came to mind after an accidental call from @lanabuckybarnes yesterday. Also, please ignore any pov typos.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

The room was silent, except for the frantic beating of your heart. You hadn’t even heard your bedroom window opening. But you felt the air shift—goosebumps swept across your skin. Your head whipped to the side at the creak of the floorboard. 

He was here, watching you.

Bucky.

He stood in front of the window, a black tactical mask shrouding the lower half of his face. Only his dark, unrelenting eyes were visible, locking onto you like a predator. 

The moonlight silhouetted his figure. His massive, intimidating figure. He was clothed entirely in black with a rigid controlled posture.

You should scream. 

You should run.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you scrambled backward on the bed.

“Don’t,” his voice rasped. “You don’t want to make this harder for yourself, doll.”

Bucky knelt on your bed, his gloved hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. He was gentle. Too gentle. The touch was reverent, aching almost. It made you whimper. Tears welled in your eyes, and you shook your head.

“Please—don’t—”

His breath was hot against your ear as he leaned down. His gloved hand wrapped around your wrists, easily pinning them above your head, tying them with something hard, plastic, a zip tie, maybe… to your headboard. You struggled against him. Weak against his strength. A soft sob broke from your lips.

Monstrous and warped, his voice was wrong when he spoke to you again, the distorted sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Quiet, little doll. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” Bucky’s words were possessive yet soaked in hunger.

You whimpered, and he shuddered. The bed had dipped under his weight, his body trapping you as it blanketed your own.

Without hesitation. Without permission.

He slid the collar of your oversized tee to the side, exposing more of your neck and collarbone. 

He was slow. Torturous.

An approving grunt rumbled low within his chest. You twisted desperately against him, but he laughed low, the sound cold, making your skin crawl.

“Fighting me only makes it worse.”

Then he was on you. His covered mouth was on your neck, you couldn’t see him, you couldn’t tell if there was a smile or if he was scowling. But you could feel every movement in his jaw, every inhale through his mask. He was like a beast trying to contain himself.

“You smell scared.” His voice grew deeper, rougher. He was far too pleased. With a rough, desperate hand he pushed the hem of your tee higher, revealing the skin of your thighs. Then your stomach. 

“Say it.” He demanded, his thumb grazing over the underside of your breast. “Say you’re mine.”

You choked on another sob. “Please—you—you don’t have to—”

A gloved finger slipped back down, between your thighs, teasing the edges of your panties. 

“I can smell you already, doll. Just fucking say it.” He whispered against the shell of your ear.  His finger curled around your panties, yanking the material down roughly. Leaving you bare and exposed.

Shame coursed through your veins.

Through teary eyes, you watched as he pulled a strip of cloth from his jeans pocket. 

Shaking your head again, you tried to turn away. But he caught your chin, squeezing your jaw in an iron grip. Darkened eyes bore into you as he effortlessly tied the blindfold around your head—they were the last thing you could see before darkness swallowed you whole.

Without the ability to see, every sound amplified. 

You heard the soft shuffling of Bucky removing his mask. He was bare now. Nothing, no more barriers between you.

“Beg,” he commanded, his breath hot and desperate. Teeth scraping against the sensitive skin at the curve of you shoulder. “Beg me to stop.” 

Your mouth fell agape, trying to form the words to plead—but his fingers, now cold and gloveless, were already back between your thighs. He found your slick, despite your fear.

You sobbed.

“So soft… See, little doll?” You could hear his smile, grinning assumingly. You don’t know why, but you wish at this moment that you could see what his smile looked like. “Even if that dumb little mind of yours is too scared to admit it, your body knows—you were made for me.” 

Without any warning, he positioned two fingers to your centre, sliding them slowly into you. You squirmed, trying to scoot away from him. But it was no use, you couldn’t shift his weight off you.

“You can’t run from me, doll.” An intense thrust of his fingers into you, stretching you open with a yelp. “You’re not going anywhere.” 

Your scream caught in your throat, his hand muffling the sound as he clapped it over your mouth within seconds.

“Shhh,” he cooed against your temple. “Don’t want to wake the neighbors, do you?”

Your heart beat frantically.

Terrified.

Humiliated.

He scoffed, dragging his mouth along your tear-streaked cheek. “That’s it. Cry for me, doll.” His fingers inside you twisted, pulling a whimper from your throat. “You always look so pretty when you cry.” 

You tried to move away again, but he only pressed harder into you. His body, a wall you couldn’t climb. Couldn’t escape. 

Finally, he pulled his fingers free. You barely had a second to breathe before his weight above you shifted. Your bed creaked as he lifted himself slightly. Then, there was an unmistakable sound of his zipper, dragging down along with the rustle of denim.  

Your gut twisted in panic. You whimpered out, your hands clenching and unclenching as if it could somehow stop him. You didn’t.

The bed dipped again, and you could feel the heat of him now. Heavy, hard against your bare thigh.

Then, there was a blunt, warm pressing against your entrance. Hovering there, threatening. 

A broken sob escaped you, your entire body stiffening.

“You ready, little doll?” he rasped, mockingly. “Oh wait, it doesn’t matter. You’re mine.” 

One rough thrust, and he was inside you. Forcing your body to split and stretch around him. Your back arched off the bed, a useless attempt to push against him. He settled into a brutal pace, giving you no time to adjust.

You opened your mouth. Nothing but a silent cry. The pain made you squeeze your eyes closed, and your vision flashed white beneath the blindfold.

“Fuck—” his voice was raw, scratchy. “So tight. So fucking good, doll.” Bucky forced you to take him, feel every inch of him. Battering deeper inside you. He didn’t slow, didn’t stop. “You’re made for this. Made for me.” 

The bed frame squeaks with every brutal thrust beneath you. The sound mixes with the obscene sounds of the wetness between your bodies, with every drive into you. And worse, you began to feel yourself clench around him. 

Traitor.

It was sickening, how your body reacted to him despite the terror that choked you.

And of course, he noticed.

He smirked against your neck. Biting into the skin hard enough to leave a bruise.

“There we go,” he growled between his teeth. It was a few seconds, two more thrusts before he let go and spoke again. “This little body knows its place.” 

One of his hands slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. Cruel circles, punishing strokes. He pushed, and pushed your body close to the edge.

You shook your head frantically. “P-please, stop. No,” A sob ripped freely from your lips—You don’t want this. “S-Stop.” 

You don’t want this.

You don’t want to shatter, break with him inside you.

He doesn’t own you. 

“Come for me, little doll.”

You tried. Tried to hold it back. You tried so hard.

“Come while I’m ruining you, and this sweet, tight little pussy.”

For the final time, your body betrayed you.

Sharp and agonizing, the pleasure exploded through you. Your body is wracking with violent shudders. Bucky cursed under his breath, his hips snapping forward a couple more times before spilling into you. Deep, messy, and possessive. 

Your bedroom was nothing more than panting, ragged gasps of two broken souls tangling together. Until he pulled out, slowly, lifting your legs as he let out a low, satisfied grunt.

“Mine,” he whispered in an almost loving tone. “You’ll never escape me.” He sighed contently. You could feel his spend beginning to leak out of me. It was warm and oddly soothing.  Even more so when he brought his finger back between us, spreading it up and around your sensitive clit. “You belong to me.” 

You couldn’t process the horror of what occurred, and before you even tried to, he was moving. Weight lifted from the bed, denim rasping against his skin, and a soft clink of a belt buckle. He sounded unsteady as he adjusted himself in his jeans, his breath still heavy. 

His breathing became inhuman again as he pulled the mask back over his face.

A re-gloved hand brushed over the temple, under the blindfold. Slowly, he slipped it over your head. The moonlight spilled over the room and was blinding. But you focused on him, through blurry, tear-soaked vision. 

You yelped, feeling the cold metal of his pocket knife against your skin. Pins and needles bloomed from your fingertips and down your arms when the ziptie snapped. Turning onto your side, you brought your arms down to your chest and pulled your knees up, curling into yourself. 

But Bucky lingered a moment longer, stroking your raw wrist with his thumb, and ignoring the way your muscles twitched away from him. Almost tender, as if there was an apology hidden within the gesture.

Though, he said nothing. 

Only standing, towering above me. Heavy breathing, eyes flickering over the exposed parts of your body. Like he was looking for a reason to stay.

Then, he turned. And like a shadow, he slipped out the open window and vanished.

Leaving you shaking in your bed.

Wrecked. Alone. Claimed.

---

Masterlist

[metranart]

The sound of Hawk's voice was something you still hear when you close your eyes, undertones of something deeper, something similar to devotion... almost too caring... asking you to bare his children and become completely and irrevocably, HIS.

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Dabi x Hawks, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader (in future chaps)

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 14)

-

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

-

Hawks felt like a glorified asshole for keeping an eye on you instead of doing his patrols. But he couldn't help it... he was just drawn to you like a magnet. Now, you were the gravitational force of his entire universe.

A loose gray sweatshirt covered up to your thighs, it was large and easily hid your identity. Those honey marbles that he called eyes, followed you closely bouncing from solitary tops of buildings, wondering where you were going in such a hurry and with so much stealth.

"What are you up to, baby bird?"

After all the commotion created in the dorms the night the Nomu attacked you, the last thing you wanted was to attract more attention.

The days to come it was difficult to find a moment alone especially with how overprotective your friends got, but you finally managed to shake them off a little, making up a credible enough excuse to go out alone even when Bakugo insisted proficiently on tagging along. 

You reassured him, and quickly claimed that your parents wanted to see that you were okay in person. Actually, this web of lies was only due to you didn’t want Bakugo by your side when going to the drugstore in search of that, vital and inculpatory, item. 

You moved at a fast pace; it surprised you how sharp you were even when had been unable to close your eyes for the last nights. The thought of already being carrying Hawks' child in your womb plagued you mercilessly.

“I'm gonna stuff you with my chicks, you are gonna look soooooo pretty all swelled and heavy…” you remembered his words, you could even feel his warm breath against your ear.

The sound of his voice was something you still hear when you closed your eyes, undertones of something deeper, something similar to devotion... almost too caring... asking you to bare his children and become completely and irrevocably, HIS.

“I can barely wait to come home to my pretty little wifey, waiting for me—” he had claimed, reverently—as if you were meant to be his most prized person, “...round belly, full of my chicks and big, pretty smile on your face,” his daydream, way too chaotic, way to visceral… “-SO ready for me to fill you again.”

Your favorite Hero had come inside you more times than you could keep count, since you stopped doing it when he reached five. 

You even remember, now like a bittersweet and faraway, fond memory…. that Hawks was your first sexual awakening, at the tender age of fourteen, it was his golden curls and his captivating, carefree smile, that had made your heart skip a beat, that had set your hormones on fire... he, alone had been the protagonist in your first sexual fantasy, your first masturbation session in the privacy of your room, your first fictitious boyfriend, your first crush with a man-.... So, was expected, that this situation should be a dream come true for you, but it wasn't…. Because you were no longer a naive and dreamy girl, and he was no longer the idealized, unattainable Hero. Everything had fallen into place in the most painful way possible.

“Here you go miss, thank you for your purchase." 

The cashier replied as dry as a martini, prejudice peeking out of her cold stare, to which you only gave a soft thank you. Without a doubt, she and her unjustified reaction was a clear example of what to expect in a teenage pregnancy.

 A heavy sigh escaped from your lips as you left the drugstore, you hated the situation you were in. The contents of the paper bag resting on your hand, your best kept secret so far, or so you thought.

Keigo’s skin crawled, the entire time you were inside the drugstore. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the winged hero felt like throwing up. He had used one of his feathers with a hidden microphone, so he could listen to what you ordered at the pharmacy, and his fists had clenched almost homicidally when heard you order 'morning-after pills' and a pregnancy test.

You were his mate, Goddammit! You were supposed to be happy and proud to sport his seed inside your tummy. Hawks sulked feeling highly wounded and offended, and not just for this… but also for yesterday's incident. That Bakugo guy was brazenly prickling at his infinitive patience, the bastard had overstepped his welcome yesterday and now, Hawks got him on his radar. 

The winged blond paced from side to side like a bull seeing red, like a lion caged… yet eventually, after seeing how miserable and slouched you looked while searching for a public bathroom to make the test, his heart softened for you. 

“I’m the worst trash that ever existed," The blond chastised himself, "nevertheless, I'm HER trash now."

Hawks didn’t even try to deny his bizarre infatuation. He, almost proudly, admitted that this was not the end for the two of you- 

He gifted you a month out of the graciousness of his heart, even when he doubted his ability to keep that promise. You were freely looming, in his mind, taunting his every thought. 

So, he kept watch, waiting for something he didn't even know what it was. Nevertheless, his watch has begun, and it shall not end until his dying breath. 

His mind had been set. You were his and he was yours, he could easily overpower you no matter how hard you tried, no matter who you ran to, what you did to try to protect yourself.... there was nothing you could do to stop him, and that simple truth was what was keeping him at ease. Granting you certain freedom from his iron grasp, from his sharp claws.

Finally, you found a public bathroom and ran in, this time the winged hero chose to give you the privacy of urinating on a stick, alone. You deserved that much. So, he patiently waited on the nearby roofs, he would then go get the pregnancy test from the garbage can, without a doubt, you wouldn't take the proof of his sin back to the dorms. So, all he had to do was wait.

You pee on the blessed plastic stick and wait. The instructions said one minute but you felt like two hours had already passed.

"God! Can't this take any longer?!" You complained loudly, nerves eating you alive. The minute passed and suddenly all your courage disappeared along with your desire to know the result.

The plastic stick left abandoned on top of the sink, you just had to take a look at it, but you couldn't move, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t fucking blink.

What was there would change your life three hundred and sixty degrees.

"Dammit!" you heard yourself curse, burying your face between your hands to massage your temple burdensomely, "...Grow a fuckin' pair and be done with it, (Y/N)-"

"-If you want, I can tell you the result."

You suddenly heard a bubbly voice say, and your hands fell from your face to reveal a girl standing there. A cute brunet with something akin to a smirk, or a very self-indulgent grin on her face.

“I really don’t mind,” she giggled, all teeth and bubbly energy, “nor I will judge you, I’ve been there myself.” Her smile twisted reassuringly, and you sighed, embarrassed at having to resource to a stranger to do this.

“You are way too kind but-”

“Don’t overthink,” the girl stepped closer, offering you her best winning smile, “I’ll look and then you can tell me if you want me to tell you the result, okey?” 

Somehow, her odd and unrequested company felt better than face this alone. You ended up, nodding stoically and she peek at the pregnancy test.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” you repeated, quizzically. “Is that a good ‘Oh’ or a bad ‘Oh’?” your voice sounded weird even to you.

The girl cracked a wide smile taking the test in her hand. “Well that depends on you, do you want to be a mommy or not?”

You heart fluttered awkwardly at the bold use of term mommy. You shook your head anxiously, and she hummed in understanding. 

“I see.” The girl conceded in a weird resignation, “too bad, you're so pretty... they would have been very cute children."

Oxygen refilled your lungs again, and you felt as if your life with dreams and hopes, was turned back on. A devastating feeling of relief washing over you.

“Thank god!” you beamed with so much relief, you even felt like hugging this opportune strange, girl. “That means, I’m not with child.”

“Nop.” She corroborated, handing you the test back, yet you refused to touch it.

“I don't want to have one of those in my hand again for a long time,” you admitted, honestly, “you can throw it away.”

“Sure,” the girl did, and after an unholy and vast blast of thank you’s, you parted ways with your anonymous hero. Almost skipping on your feet all the way out.

“Thank you again.” You screamed back, once at the exit door. “Sure, it was my pleasure...-” You left, and the door slowly swayed until it closed completely, and the girl added, “-(Y/N).”

Once alone, she reached into the trash can and retrieved the pregnancy test, giggling the whole time.

"A heroine-to-be shouldn't be so trusting." A macabre smile spread across her face, and she tilted her head at the test in her hand, "...I wonder why Dabi is so interested in Hawks' toy?" Toga wanted to rip her face off, but she had chosen one so pretty that decided to stay in costume a little longer. "Well, it doesn't matter, Dabi said he’ll pay me for this, anyway."

Still, in disguise, pocketed the pregnancy test and left without raising any suspicion. 

Hawks kept pacing on the roof, desperation clear in every stomp of his boots. He was doing his best to be patient while searching. The blond had been looking for the evidence for more than half a day, the damn pregnancy test, he sent a dozen of his feathers in search of it, but nothing... had you taken it with you? One would only keep a test if it was positive, right?! Were you pregnant with his nugget?!?... Was he really that lucky?

“Hawks, where are you? over.” His radio came to live, once again and this time felt he couldn’t dodge his Hero responsibilities anymore, “We have not had any communication from you all day, over.”

Hawks inhaled sharply before answering. “I am on surveillance, please do not use this channel unless it is an emergency.”

“It's not an emergency, but I thought it was prudent to let you know before accepting, over."

The night was already upon him, and the cleaning man was just leaving his shift. Hawks sighed, heavily. He had lost his chance to find anything. 

"Speak."

"You have to say over when you finish talking." Hawks deadpanned; he wasn’t in the mood for this.

"Speak." He repeated, sternly, patience close to its limit. The person on the other end sighed, "UA Academy is calling for reinforcements for this year's sports festival, over," the voice on the other end said and suddenly he felt very interested, "continue."

The radio biped again, "They fear an attack from the League of Villains, since yesterday someone managed to throw a projectile through the shield and break a gym window,” Hawks listened attentively, an impious smirk slowly twisting his lips up, apparently his little outburst had had interesting consequences. The person on the other side continued, “and therefore, they request the help of Pro-heroes to avoid any incident. Endeavor, Mirko, Best Jeanist and Ryukyu have already been confirmed," the voice explained, "I think It would be an overkill if you were to-"

"I accept, confirm my attendance immediately." There was an awkward silence before the radio biped again, "Are you sure? We have no intel of an attack from the League, you would be the first to know, I think they are overreacting-"

"Better safe than sorry."

Long silence, and then.

"If you say so, over and out."

The memory of yesterday's incident made his blood burn again, he knew it wasn't your fault but that of your little friend: Bakugo, that shameless son of a bitch, that made him foam at the mouth like a mad dog, it made him want to kill someone... it made him need to get even, and suddenly, the blue eyes and stapled skin of his lover in turn, spark in his brain... Dabi could take it, he'd even love it.. Hawks left the roof in a rush of crimson feathers and sent a text message.

Hawks. -

See you at the agreed place.

Dabi. -

So fast, birdbrains?

Hawks didn't answer, just heading to the agreed upon location.

-

“Give it here, Toga.” Dabi entered the room where Toga was upside down on the couch, scrolling through her cell phone. He needed to close that before meeting Hawks. "...I assume you have what I asked for?"

Toga sat up straight and stretched her back soundly, before answering. "I got it," she assured, "...where's my payment?"

Dabi took out a box of fine sweets, from the best store in town. Store that at this moment was being put out by firefighters after the sudden and unsuspected electrical short that set it on fire. If only.

"First give me the evidence and I'll give you the box." Dabi offered with a bored grimace, and Toga pulled the coveted item out of her backpack.

"At the same time?"

Dabi shrugged, unconcerned. After both snatched the precious items from each other’s hands in a quick exchange, the pregnancy test rested in his scarred hand. Without ceremony, Toga ripped the box open and stuffed her mouth, making her words difficult to understand.

"Why aw-re you interestwed in Hawks' girlwfriend?"

A pierced eyebrow rose on the dark-haired man's face. 

"How many lines for positive or negative?" the turquoise-eyed asked, openly ignoring her ramblings. 

Toga shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, I never knew how to read them." She admitted in all honesty, stuffing her cheeks with more candy.

Dabi grimaced, and luckily for him Kurogiri’s timing couldn’t be better. The dark purple mist appeared out of thin air behind the bar. Misty's hands beginning to clean glasses, absentmindedly.

"Oi Kurogiri, do you know how to read these things?"

The dark purple mist's yellow eyes stared sharply at the item in his hand before meeting his eyes for a brief minute, and then returning his gaze to the pregnancy test. "I have some knowledge about it."

Dabi stepped closer, handing him the test. Kurogiri’s eyes fixed on the stripes and Dabi’s lips pursed, unable to know if he was smiling or scoffing when he ended up saying quite politely.

"Congratulations, Dabi."

COMING SOON PART 15....

➡️ NSFW Artwork of this story

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts @kezybear

[suzukiblu]

NaNoWriMo fic, day one: obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

"You're working for Cadmus," Tim says slowly. "Cadmus, as in the lab that stole Superman's body and cloned him without his consent. Cadmus, which you had to break out of so they couldn't put mind control code words in your head."

"Yeah," Superboy replies like that's not literally insane. Tim stares at him.

"Why?" he asks incredulously.

"Food and shelter?" Superboy shrugs. "And I mean, I dunno, where else am I gonna go?"

Tim is not okay with this situation.

"What did Superman say?" he says.

"Just to like, keep an eye on things," Superboy says with another shrug. "Make sure they're not up to anything shifty."

Tim stares at him.

"Superman," he says. "Told you to just . . . 'keep an eye on' the dubiously ethical cloning lab. The specific dubiously ethical cloning lab that tried to put mind control code words in your head. Specifically."

"Yeah," Superboy confirms.

Alright, Tim is actually even less okay with this situation than he thought, apparently. Like, impressively less.

"Okay," he says. It is absolutely no kind of okay in any way whatsoever, of course, but he doesn't want to put Superboy on the defensive. That'd make effectively interrogating him a lot harder, for one thing. Cooperative subjects are best in these situations. "What are they paying you?"

"I mean, like, they gave me my own room and they're feeding me and whatever, so I don't really need much money," Superboy says. "There's a discretionary fund I can use if I need to go on an undercover mission or anything like that? But I'm not really the undercover type anyway."

"Sure," Tim says. So . . . no way for Superboy to save up to move out and get an out-of-lab life, then. Great. That's not fucked-up or crazy or horrible at all. "Do you like it there?"

"It's okay," Superboy says, shrugging again. "Better than literally everybody in Hawaii yelling at me every time they see my face, yeah?"

Tim wants to set the world on fire, but he's trying really hard not to go supervillain before he's thirty and he'd hate to throw out all that hard work.

"They just let me do whatever, mostly," Superboy adds. "They don't really care as long as I'm around when they need me."

He'll go supervillain as soon as Bruce dies, Tim promises himself. Just–he'll give his share of the eulogy at the funeral and then he'll blow up three-fourths of Arkham and the entire GCPD while Commissioner Gordon is on his lunch break. He can time that out, that'll be easy. And then he'll go and personally murder the Joker with the very specific combination of a rusty crowbar and a shrapnel bomb, and then he'll just . . . well, he'll just go with the flow from there, he figures. Do whatever feels natural.

Seriously, the world as it is does not deserve to exist. It really just does not.

Tim figures he can probably convince the rest of Young Justice to tag along for the whole supervillain thing and hopefully Dick and Steph and Barbara too, and ideally also Alfred, in the unfortunately likely event that he outlives Bruce. He's got time to lay the groundwork with them all and all, and also everything really is awful and horrible and really does deserve to burn.

"Are they sending you to school or anything? Or tutoring you?" Tim asks with what little scraps of hope he has left. Higher education would be . . . well, something, at least. And actually it probably wouldn't hurt for Superboy to learn a bit more about genetic engineering from the same place he got genetically engineered, just in case anything goes wrong with his DNA again. Cadmus should at least be good for that much, right?

"Ew, no, thank fuck," Superboy says, making a face. "Like I said, they mostly let me do whatever until something needs punched."

So . . . no furthered education or learning any usable job skills or making real money or literally anything that could, again, lead to Superboy ever getting any kind of an actual out-of-lab life established.

Great.

Just great.

"I see," Tim says.

"It's a pretty sweet gig, considering," Superboy says, and grins brightly at him. It's a very nice grin. Normally being faced with that particular grin would make Tim need to beat down the highly unprofessional urge to kiss it.

Right now, though, he's a little bit more concerned with the fact that his teammate is just . . . living in and working for a fucking lab. As a matter of course. Just as a thing.

And Superman of all people thinks that's . . . fine, for some reason? Like, normal and ethical and okay? Somehow? In some way?

What the actual fuck, Tim thinks to himself.

"You said Superman told you to keep an eye on things?" he asks.

"Yeah," Superboy says, his grin widening. "He took me to his fortress and asked me to do it there. Showed me around a bit, too."

"That sounds really interesting," Tim says, wondering in vague disbelief if that means Superman had never taken Superboy to the Fortress of Solitude before. He must've, right? And just . . . inexplicably not shown Superboy around then.

Yeah. Sure.

"It was awesome!" Superboy says with more enthusiasm than Tim's seen from him since they met Nina Dowd's . . . endowments, seemingly forgetting the need to be "cool" for long enough to lean forward in his seat and outright beam at him. Tim is gonna need a minute to recover from the sight of that expression, probably. "It's seriously freaking freezing up there, but there's so much cool shit in the place. Like, from all over the universe, but from Krypton, even! The only thing I'd ever seen from Krypton before was kryptonite!"

Tim considers moving up his supervillain timeline after all. Like. Just possibly. Just a little.

Maybe he can convince Bruce to take an early retirement off-planet and just go from there.

What the hell is wrong with Superman?

"Oh, wow, really?" Tim says, simultaneously pretending he didn't already know what Superman has in his fortress and trying not to be screamingly obvious about the internal calculations he's running on figuring out how to weaponize red sunlight. Or like, maybe he could look into learning some magic. That's technically an option. Probably more time-consuming and harder to hide the process of, though. Still, it's on the table.

"Yeah. He showed me some of it. Told me some stories and stuff, even," Superboy says, and that excited grin turns just a little bit shy and soft and somehow even more distracting than usual. He ducks his head just a little, and then that soft grin is more like a soft smile, and Tim suffers. "And I, uh–and he gave me something, too."

"What did he give you?" Tim asks, praying to God that the answer is "an emergency contact number" or "an allowance that can cover a semi-decent Metropolis apartment" or "an offer to live literally anywhere but Cadmus, including in the thirtieth century or on a hostile alien planet or inside an active volcano". He's technically an atheist, so the praying thing is probably moot, but times of desperation are times of desperation.

"A name," Superboy says, and his smile widens helplessly. "Like, you know, a real one."

Tim might hate Superman, he thinks. That might actually be a thing now.

Yeah, he's definitely going supervillain after Bruce dies and doesn't need an emotional support sidekick anymore. Better start stocking up on the kryptonite.

"That's great," he says with a very carefully not-forced smile of his own instead of anything more along the lines of "wait, you've been alive and active as a superhero for all this time and no one ever actually named you?!" Superboy would probably take it the wrong way, not in the least because that genuinely never actually occurred to him as being a thing before. Like–he really did just assume Superboy was keeping a lid on whatever his real name was for personal reasons or Superman reasons or something. "Are you allowed to tell me it, or is that a no-go?"

"Oh, yeah," Superboy says with a sheepish laugh, rubbing at his arm. "It's like, a Kryptonian name? Not like a secret identity one. It's, uh, Kon-El."

Of course it's not even a damn secret identity, Tim thinks in absolute frustration and abject loathing. Of course not! Why would it be?! Fuck forbid!

"I like it," he says, because he lies to Batman and therefore there is no fucking way that he's going to let Superboy–Kon–see any sign whatsoever of the metaphorical 9.9 on the Richter scale that is currently happening in his psyche. "It suits you."

"You think?" Kon grins all the wider. Tim can't even calm down enough to want to kiss him, except in the sense that he always wants to kiss him.

"I do," he says, and smiles at him again.

Kon smiles back.

Tim hates everything. All the things. There is nothing that Tim doesn't hate right now, except maybe Alfred's snickerdoodles because he might be having a nervous breakdown but he's not, like, criminally insane or whatever.

Yet.

"Yeah, it's kinda cool," Kon says, straightening up in his seat and then leaning back, clearing his throat and slipping his sunglasses back on like they're not in a literal cave right now. Tim doesn't call him on it, because he has a supervillain timeline to work out and that's much more important.

Also because the teammate he has an inadvisable crush on is in a much, much shittier situation than he ever realized and he has to reconcile that with his worldview and also his opinion of Superman. Tim doesn't especially idolize the man except in the sense of knowing he's one of the greatest heroes on Earth and a very, very good man that Bruce thinks incredibly highly of, one of the best men on the League and maybe even on the planet, but . . .

But if he's such a good man, then why the hell is Kon living in a lab that tried to mind-control him and why has he only just seen the Fortress of Solitude for the first time?

Why didn't he have a real name?

"So do we call you Kon or Kon-El now?" Tim asks, which is a bit of a senseless question but also at least a bit of a distraction. He wants to say this whole situation is a horrible idea, who the FUCK convinced you this situation was a good idea?!, but there is no possible way that Kon would respond well to that. Ever.

Also, Kon had a point. Where else is he gonna go?

Clearly not the Fortress of Solitude.

Seriously, would it be that hard for Superman to give him a room there? At least a place to stay sometimes, so he wasn't exclusively relying on the mind-control cloning lab for food and shelter and basic comforts?

"I think just Kon?" Kon says, frowning consideringly. "'El' is like Superman's last name, I guess? So I think just Kon."

"Makes sense," Tim says, internally seething. Superman gave him the "El" name but not a secret identity? A name from a dead civilization with a bit of sentimental value, maybe, but nothing usable on this planet? Fuck, you'd think Kon didn't already know his secre–

. . . Kon doesn't know Superman's secret identity, does he.

Tim had thought he was lying, when he'd said that stuff about Superman not having one, before. Thought it was supposed to be a cover or a misdirection or something. But Kon actually thinks that, doesn't he. And Superman has just . . . kept letting him think that.

Becoming a supervillain actually might be an underreaction, in retrospect.

"Just Kon sounds less formal anyway," Tim says instead of so just in theory, do you think tactile telekinesis could trigger a heart attack or stroke in a full-blooded Kryptonian, if you could REALLY concentrate on doing it? like not FATALLY, just dehabilitatingly?, because he still has some groundwork to do before they get that far into potential supervillainy. There's steps to the plan. The steps need to be followed. They're very important steps. "You don't want Bart full-naming you every time he's looking for the remote."

"Like he'd even bother, it's faster for him to turn the living room upside-down than actually ask anyway," Kon says with a laugh, dropping his head back on his neck. Tim has some thoughts about climbing into his lap and figuring out if the TTK makes him hickey-proof, and then buries them. Not appropriate. Not professional. Just not.

. . . technically, if Kon wanted a hickey, he could just let his TTK down and ask for–

Tim buries his thoughts deeper.

Much, much deeper.

"Point," he says. "So what time does Cadmus expect you back?"

"Dude, it's a job, not a boarding school," Kon says, giving him an amused look. "I don't have a curfew."

Tim, technically, hasn't followed his own curfew any way but accidentally once in his entire life, but for god's sake, is Cadmus even pretending to be raising a teenager or are they really just being that flagrant about ignoring all the child labor laws they so clearly do not give a fuck about? Like, there must be something illegal about this. There has to be.

If there's not, Tim will be adding "burn down Project Cadmus" to his list of supervillain plans to set up in advance. In red pen. Underlined.

Twice.

God, why is the world like this. Why are people like this?

"I guess that'd be convenient," Tim says, internally ranking various methods of combustion. "Though I guess it depends on the cafeteria hours, too."

"It's whatever, I can always eat later," Kon replies with a shrug. "I think I've still got a couple protein bars in my room anyway."

"Just protein bars?" Tim asks, mentally upping the amount of explosives he was considering going with. Cadmus is going to be a crater by the time he's done with it. "Don't you need more calories than that?"

". . . well, sort of," Kon says, folding his arms and looking very briefly embarrassed. "Superman doesn't have to eat, apparently, but, uh, guess I'm not Kryptonian enough for that. Actually I kinda need to eat more than normal humans, it's weird. Like. A lot more."

"I'm ordering pizza," Tim says, upping his mental explosives count again. "What do you want on it?"

"We're the only ones here," Kon says, looking puzzled.

"More pizza for us, then," Tim says.

[hbyrde36]

Night Terrors & Daydreams Pt. 1 of 2

For @penny00dreadful 🖤

I don't know where this came from but as soon as I had the idea I knew I just HAD to write this for your birthday. I'm not sure what that says about me, you, or our friendship 👀😂 but I hope you enjoy! Happy (early) Birthday , Love!

Steddie | Explicit | WC: 2876 | AO3

Eddie stood in the corner of his new charge’s room, biding his time, waiting for just the right moment to strike. 

It was a strange existence, this push and pull between ethereal and corporeal. In his early years he’d kept entirely to the shadows, doing his work from a nice safe distance, paying his dues without ever really showing himself to his… victims. 

He’d always hated that word, victim. He liked to think of himself as something of a caretaker. The way he watched over his humans, so vulnerable as they dozed in their nice warm beds, was evocative of so much more than predator and prey. There were, naturally, much worse things lurking in the night than him, a mere sleep paralysis demon.

It was also a bit of an inside joke with himself, if he was honest. One needed such things to keep themselves entertained these days. The poor souls he pursued endured abject terror to give him life and help power The Underworld like living breathing batteries. 

Ergo, charge.

There was magic and meaning in the naming of things. He’d chosen to call himself Eddie for just that reason, to take control of his identity, abhorring the idea of referring to himself simply as Demon. His kind didn’t typically have names, per se, or at least they certainly weren't given them at their unholy creation, but nothing about Eddie had ever been what one might call typical. 

At the end of the day, he supposed, he could call things and people whatever he liked in the sanctity of his own mind, and the powers-that-be could…

What was the phrase again?

Ah yes. 

Suck it.

The man in the bed stirred, the most delicious whimpering sound slipping from the depths of his throat. Caught in the middle of what appeared to be a nightmare, he tossed and turned, eventually winding up flat on his back, chin tilted to the heavens.

“Perfect,” Eddie whispered to himself. 

He let his essence drift out of the shadows, his smoky half-form ruffling the curtains as he passed by a faintly glowing window, the city with her ever present lights and commotion—regardless of the storm that raged outside— persisting just on the other side of its glass. That glow fell over the figure in the bed to illuminate his face, revealing the gentle curve of full pouty lips, and the fan of long lashes resting heavy across eyes that were accentuated by dark, well-groomed brows. His perfectly tanned skin was dotted with beauty marks, a feature so aptly named when adorning such a lovely specimen.

At first sight, Eddie—who didn’t even need to breathe as a rule—felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room, from the world. Suddenly he understood why humans sometimes wept when they looked upon a particularly beautiful work of art. Why one look at Adonis brought so many to their knees. Why the Trojans went to fucking war.

The man’s eyelids fluttered softly, opening as Eddie continued to gaze upon his face and for a moment it was he, the demon, who was the one frozen in place.

Quickly, before the rare beauty in the bed could so much as cry out, Eddie forced himself to his senses, shifting his focus instead to his power and paralyzed the man with a single thought. The most disarming set of hazel eyes, the only part of his body that the man still had the power to move, stared up at him, showing too much white as they tracked his billowy movements overhead. 

He left in a hurry that night, not even taking the time to feed like he ought to, afraid of what he might do if he lingered long enough to make the necessary connection.

It should have ended there. He should have done the reasonable thing and switched assignments with another of his kind to avoid temptation entirely.

But, it seemed, reasonability had no place in Eddie’s mind. Not anymore. Not when he was consumed with the need to know more about the exquisite stranger who had ruined his very existence, mind, body, and soul.

Well… if only he’d had one, that is.

Three nights later, as drained of energy as he’d ever been, Eddie returned to that bedroom, hovering like a dark cloud over the man who had haunted his every conscious thought since the moment he’d fled. This time he didn’t wait, Hell, he didn’t even paralyze the body beneath him before plunging right into the man’s sleeping mind. 

And dove face first into a world full of nightmares.

His poor human was plagued by all manner of awful dreams. After so many years, Eddie was familiar with what humans feared—fire, darkness, the various things that went bump in the night—but it wasn’t the boogeyman, or any other such monster that lived under beds or in closets that hunted his sweet charge, no. The monsters that tormented the man were formed of disappointed hopes and unmet expectations, of cruel words hurled from the throats of those who were meant to love you most. 

Of loneliness, sorrow, and despair, that could remain unending until his last breath. 

Steve.

His human’s name was Steve. 

A kind soul born into an unkind world that he’d never quite found his place in.

With a mournful sob, Steve gasped awake abruptly. Eddie yanked himself back, freezing Steve in place as he did, leaving only a tendril of his smoke-like being behind to gently brush over the man’s cheek.

'Hush,' Eddie thought at him, for the first time ever projecting peace and comfort on the subject he intended to feed from, and set himself to his task, reverently.

Eddie visited often after that, far more so than was strictly necessary to sustain himself, and yet he couldn’t seem to get enough. Feeding from Steve was a singular, mind-blowing experience, making every human who’d come before him pale in comparison. They had been nothing more than an apéritif, and hors d'oeuvre at best, and Steve?

Steve was a full-course meal, complete with the most decadent, sinful dessert imaginable.

Delicious, addicting, dangerous.  

No other human would ever do for him again. 

Steve’s nightmares remained an unfortunate constant and, visit after visit, Eddie began to make a habit of waking Steve straightaway if he discovered his beloved human in the throes of a night terror.

After a while though, the bad dreams began to lessen, making way for something new. Calm, pleasant interludes started to unfold right before Eddie’s eyes. 

Steve smiling on his commute to work, watching the city race by through wide tinted windows, for once not feeling like a lone raindrop in a storm.  

Steve luxuriating in a warm, lavender scented bath, bubbles concealing much of his perfect form from sight as every muscle in his body relaxed for what felt like the first time in his entire life. 

Steve walking along a tranquil beach at dusk, no longer alone, but hand in hand with another, a faceless man with a head of wild hair, dark as night and curling to his shoulders.

Sadly, it wasn’t all like watching a feature film, much of Steve’s sleeping thoughts came in bursts and flashes.

A strip of pale skin, beautifully mottled with fresh red bite marks.

A prominent Adam's apple, bobbing along a pale, delicate throat.

The glossy sheen of silk sheets bathed in moonlight.

Pretty soon Eddie found himself in Steve’s company every single night, the temptation had become far too great, as did the sharp sting of jealousy for the man in Steve’s dreams. Eddie was completely consumed with his obsession, affectionately so, and had even begun manifesting himself in a full physical form to sit at Steve's bedside, gently stroking his soft, silky hair with real fingers, soothing his beloved while he was trapped in his frozen state.

It was too much, and still not enough, and before long Eddie started to fear that he was killing the man he’d come to care for more than his own existence. He was meant to do this slowly, to drain his victims over time—decades—taking what he needed and siphoning the residuals off to The Underworld to keep the lights on, so to speak. Instead he eventually cut off the outward flow of power altogether, and only took the bare minimum of what he needed to keep himself alive, spending the majority of his time with Steve now simply existing beside him.

Pining.

Yearning for more.

He was breaking convention. He didn’t know what sort of retribution there might be, but in truth it didn’t matter. He’d take whatever punishment was due and be glad of it, happy to pay any price necessary to be with his true love. He ached to have Steve in every way possible. He knew much of the man’s mind, but his soul, his body? That largely remained a mystery. Eddie wanted—needed—to know the taste of Steve’s lips, the touch of his hand, the way it would feel to have Steve inside him, an echo in compliment to the way he had been immersing himself in Steve for so very long now.

The night Eddie finally lost control, was a night like many others.

Already gripped by the nightmares he still suffered from now and then, Steve was thrashing in his sleep when Eddie arrived, his duvet falling off the side of the bed leaving nothing but a thin white sheet between his body and the rest of the world. 

Eddie willed his physical form into existence around him, the one he’d made piece by piece over time, taking inspiration from the mysterious figure who starred in so many of Steve’s less haunted dreams. Anticipation flowed through his veins like a drug as he stepped closer, holding Steve still with his power the way he always did, but this would be no typical night. 

Eddie was only a man. 

No, not even that. 

He was a creature of the night, an incubus, a pathetic wanton fiend who could only stare temptation in the face for so long before he could no longer resist the urge to take that which he desired. 

Sensing Steve was soon to wake, Eddie leaned down to press a kiss to his brow, pulling back just in time to see those honeyed eyes snap open. 

“Sorry I'm late, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly, settling himself on the side of the bed, reaching out a pale, ringed hand to push the damp hair back from Steve’s forehead. “And I'm sorry I couldn’t stop the other bad things from claiming you tonight.”

He imagined a world where Steve didn’t have to be held captive by his power to do this, where Steve would lean into his touch, knowing how cherished he was. But then, that was the goal tonight, wasn’t it, proving his love to Steve and making that world a reality.

Ever so slowly, he peeled back the sheet from Steve’s body, like opening a carefully wrapped gift and wanting to extend the excitement of the moment out as much as possible. He watched, rapt, as the sleek fabric pulled back, revealing bare, tempting flesh by mere inches at a time.

The hair on Steve’s chest. The blush pink of his nipples, hardening the instant they were exposed to the air. The finer line of hairs that trailed down the length of his stomach, dipping lower, and lower still, leading to a well defined groin bracketing his thick, half-hard cock.

It was more likely that Steve had always slept in the nude, Eddie wasn’t sure, and maybe it was delusional, but the sheer thought that perhaps this lovely little surprise was intentional and done specifically with him in mind, had his heart racing and drool pooling in his mouth.  

With a final tug, the silken sheets flew off the end of the bed to land in a heap on the floor below, and Eddie spent a short eternity standing at the foot of the bed, gazing down at the beauty before him, taking in the full effect of Steve’s mouthwatering physique.

Steve simply had to be one of the most gorgeous beings to ever walk the face of the earth, and here he was all laid out for Eddie, completely at the demon’s mercy.

At the wave of his hand Eddie’s own clothes vanished, and with nothing more to keep them apart he crawled back up onto the bed, determined to taste every square inch of his sweetheart’s skin.

He began with a soft tender kiss to the top of each of his beloved’s feet, kneading his fingers into Steve’s strong, muscular calves, at the same time dragging his lips up the length of legs that would have been at home on any Greek statue, worshiping them from ankle to knee with the deepest devotion.

Steve’s inner thighs were practically begging to be bitten, and Eddie was powerless to resist the siren call of them. He sank his teeth in gently but without hesitation, moaning as the soft flesh filled his mouth, sucking on the skin until he could sense blood pooling to the surface where it would surely leave a lasting mark.

A strangled cry suddenly broke through the heavy silence as Eddie pulled back, a high pitched whine vibrating through Steve’s throat. It was the first time the man had ever managed to make a sound, as strained as it was, while under Eddie’s power and it was like music to the demon’s ears.

He repeated the process on the other side of Steve’s body, marveling at the way his love’s cock twitched with each stroke of his tongue, or nip from his teeth.

When Eddie was satisfied with his own handiwork, knowing Steve would see and feel his presence long after he left this night, he moved on to the place he was most desperate to explore. Dipping his head down low, he opened wide, taking each of Steve’s balls into his mouth. One at a time he rolled his tongue around them, reveling in the feel of the loose skin between his lips. Steve’s body at least seemed to be enjoying his efforts too, his cock quickly filling out, now standing at its full height. Long, thick, and so incredibly enticing. 

Eddie ran the flat of his tongue up the underside of Steve’s length from base to tip, carefully swirling all around the head—teasing, testing, tasting the pearly white fluid that leaked from its slit. 

As if the salty, mildly bitter substance were Steve’s own source of magic, Eddie’s entire being began flooding with heat. The fiery desire filled him more and more as he swallowed the paltry droplets, lapping sloppily, desperate for more. 

Steve’s keening reached new heights, the sound nearly frantic when Eddie wrapped his lips firmly around the head of him, hollowed his cheeks, and started to sink down a millimeter at a time until Steve’s entire length was sheathed deep within his mouth and throat.

It was a fullness unlike any other Eddie had experienced before and he loved the way this act took command of all his senses. It was not quite the fullness he’d been craving, there was still an ache in his core, a deep pocket of emptiness that yearned to be stuffed, but there were still plenty of hours left in the night for that. 

Eddie pulled off with a gasp, finding himself panting for air. In his excitement he’d sort-of forgotten that he did need to occasionally breathe in this form. 

With a final kiss to the shining tip of Steve’s cock, now wet from Eddie’s own saliva, he moved on to explore the flat plane of Steve’s lower stomach. Like a cat, he nuzzled his cheek through the hair of Steve's happy trail, letting his lips brush over skin here and there as he shifted further up to Steve’s chest. 

After peppering the entire width of his collarbone with sweet, gentle kisses, Eddie ran his tongue all the way up Steve’s neck to his ear. He wasn’t ready to let Steve go completely of course, not yet, but he was ready to free his mouth, to finally hear Steve’s waking thoughts, in his own true voice.

“You may speak now, my love, but I’d advise you not to scream.” Eddie breathed the words directly into Steve’s ear. “Lest some well-meaning neighbor come investigating and interrupt us.”

Steve’s lips parted slowly, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to wet his plush lips, making them all the more inviting as he begged, softly… 

“Please.”

Eddie tilted his head, the gentle plea most unexpected. “Please what, pet?”

“Kiss me?” Steve asked.

“What did you say?” Eddie whispered on a sharp inhale. He couldn’t possibly have heard that right. 

Please stop. 

Please don’t. 

Please let me go. 

All of those he’d anticipated. All of those he’d been prepared for, ready to fight for his one true love, to show Steve how much he cared, over and over again if he had to, until the man came to believe it.

“Please,” Steve begged again, his eyelids half-closed and his tone breathy, bordering on a whine. “Kiss me, my Angel.”

Part 2 (coming soon!)

Many thanks to @pearynice for the amazing beta work and for always being the best, loudest cheerleader! 💕

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @sidekick-hero @firefly-party

@bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog  @goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1

@rocknrollsalad @eternal-sunflowers @cringe-culture-is-dead-99

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 8

Masterpost - Ao3

“Oh, hey!” Superboy says, hours later when the last of the pizza is long-since finished, and their excited chatter has settled into a slow roll of conversation. “Now that you have a whole civilian identity and everything, I figured I should introduce myself!” Danny blinks as his friend grins over at him. It’s not hard to realize what Superboy’s implying, but...

“You don’t have to do that,” Danny says, shaking his head. “I’m not- you shouldn’t compromise yourself like that.”

“I mean sure,” Superboy says, looking confused. “But what good is a secret identity if you don’t get to use it to hang out with your friends? It’d be a compromise to your identity if we’re showing up here all the time in costume.”

“Yeah but we can still hang out elsewhere, right?” Danny points out, voice cracking on the echoes of dread. Identities -names- are important; and it’s not like Danny has really told them anything about himself. “Like you can just text me and I can meet you wherever in my own costume!”

“So what,” Superboy says, voice rising in volume, as he begins floating just above the couch. “We both know your entire identity, and you don’t know either of ours? That hardly seems fair! Besides, you’re like half the reason I even got a civilian identity!”

“You don’t-” Danny cuts himself off abruptly. He can’t explain himself. Not without risking everything, and Danny’s not ready. He can’t go back to being on the run yet. His brain cycles on what they’ve said, desperate for a solution, but then he really processes Superboy’s last sentence, and he freezes. “Wait, what the fuck do you mean I’m the reason you have a civilian identity?” Danny can’t quite keep the sheer horror of that revelation out of his voice, and Superboy flinches, eyes going slightly wild as he stares at Danny.

“Shit, no,” Superboy pleads. “It’s not like that!”

“Not like what?” Danny says slowly.

“It’s not- I wasn’t trying to be weird or like, controlling or anything! It’s...” Superboy sighs. “So when I brought the whole identity thing up to Robin, at first he thought I was talking about making one for me? And then later I started thinking about it more, and I thought you would maybe like to have a friend who you could hang out with outside of costume, and then I realized that maybe it would actually be kind of nice to go places without getting recognized and it’s not- you don’t have to. I can keep it to myself if you want.”

Danny stares as Superboy stammers to a stop, the constant movement of his shoulders betraying his fast, sharp breaths. A glance to the side shows that Robin is watching them both that same intense, emotionless gaze. He stares for a moment, before leaning forward to place a hand on Superboy’s shoulder, and Danny can actually see the instantaneous effect as Superboy’s shoulders freeze and his panicked eyes snap shut.

“Deep breaths,” Robin murmurs, waiting silently as Superboy fights to get his breathing under control. “Danny, perhaps you could explain what upset you just now?” Danny blinks, staring at the two, throat coated with an icy barrier of misery and loneliness. Whatever is happening right now is something he doesn’t understand, and it’s been so long. His friends, Sam and Tucker - he doesn’t think he’d ever realized quite how lucky he was to have friends so old that he just understood them. 

“I wasn’t,” Danny begins, words slipping out around the ice and ending up far too small, too silent. He swallows, tries again, but his voice remains choked and quiet, so he takes a deep breath and forces himself to continue anyways. “I just. You’ve been a hero for ages according to the internet, so I kind of feel like you not having an identity is fucking concerning, you know?”

Superboy stares at him as he speaks, and no understanding materializes on his face. Danny doesn’t think he’s wrong. This world has so many heroes. Surely they would be more aware of the necessity for anonymity than Danny himself is. But he also isn’t from here. Danny glances over to Robin, but his expression is still unreadable.

“He’s not wrong,” Robin says, quiet but firm, eyes fixed on Superboy. “It was understandable that they didn’t want to just drop you into the normal world at first, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have a legal identity by now.”

“So that’s not the norm, then?” Danny presses, as calmly as he can. Maybe it would be better to keep his mouth shut, let the two friends have the moment, but he needs to know. “Like you and the other heroes have normal identities?”

“For the most part,” Robin answers steadily. “However, most people are generally civilians first and only become heroes later, so it is typically not in the Justice League’s hands to provide such documentation. Still, they have provided such assistance before, on occasion.”

“So why didn’t-”

“Superboy joined the Justice League organization in unique circumstances that are his to disclose,” Robin cuts him off. “While I would defend the existence of the Justice League to my last breath, they are as fallible as any other group, and have certainly been responsible for their fair share of mistakes. In Superboy’s case, I am of the opinion that they have dropped the ball on his behalf quite significantly.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be unfair to expect them to be perfect...” Danny murmurs.

“I didn’t ask, though,” Superboy says, drawing their attention back towards him. “That’s hardly their fault.”

“You shouldn’t have had to ask.” Robin responds immediately. “You are, functionally still a minor. The second they accepted responsibility for you that should mean ensuring that your human rights are respected. Realistically after pulling you from the lab, they should have immediately instigated paperwork to ensure you legally exist.”

“But I don’t need to legally exist? Like the Justice League takes care of everything for me so it’s fine.”

“But if it wasn’t fine,” Danny says, desperately. “If the Justice League isn’t good, or if it got corrupted or, like, taken over by a force that hated you? If the people who control your legal existence decide they want you dead, you’re kind of fucked.”

“It’s about control,” Robin adds. “If you don’t exist outside the Justice League, then you don’t have resources to enable you to leave, were you to decide that you didn’t want to be a hero. As long as you don’t have a legal identity, you remain reliant upon the Justice League alone.”

“And that’s... bad.” Superboy says quietly, frowning.

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Superboy says, still looking confused.

“Um,” Danny says, instead of pushing the topic any harder. “If you still want to share your identity with me, you can. I just, like, didn’t want you to feel like you had to.”

“Yeah?” Superboy asks, then at Danny’s nod he pulls his posture back into his usual facsimile of cool confidence.

“It’s nice to meet you Danny,” Superboy says, offering his hand. “I’m Conner Lee.” Danny reaches out to meet Conner’s hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Conner.”

The next morning, Danny finds himself waking slowly, awash in the warm comfort of a real bed. It feels almost absurd how pleasant the experience seems now, compared to how normal it used to be. Still, the calm silence of his apartment makes for a stark difference to the way things were back home. There’s no distant shouting from his parents, and certainly none of the constant shift of machinery, or the sudden and unexpected arrival of a ghostly threat pulling him out of sleep.

Instead, Danny blinks heavily eyelids and presses himself even further into the cocoon of blankets wrapped around him. Warm and sleepy, he marvels at the notion that he could just spend the entire day in bed if he wanted to. It’s a thought that’s almost intoxicating. Sure he’s got to eventually start on his schoolwork and get a job, but right now, in this moment, he has no absolutely no responsibilities.

It doesn’t take long for Danny to find his thoughts drifting back towards last night. The day had been, resoundingly, a lot. The sudden acquisition of a real home is obvious and feels absolutely incredible, but really Danny can’t stop thinking about the revelations regarding his friend. Knowing Conner’s name is sort of terrifying, and Danny knows he won’t feel truly comfortable with it anytime soon, but it clearly meant a lot to Conner, and fuck if he’s not willing to suffer discomfort for the sake of a friend.

Besides, he can’t deny that it feels a lot more natural to think of him as Conner than Superboy. Based on everything else that was said yesterday, he has to imagine that Superboy wasn’t a name Conner had chosen for himself. It’s not really a name that can comfortably follow him into adulthood, after all, and really, he’s already old enough that it would probably grate against most people. Danny can’t imagine many teenagers he’s met appreciating a name with ‘boy’ in it. Of course, the connotation of the term could always be different here, and it is probably the closest analog to Superman that they could get. But then, Robin isn’t called Batboy. Though that may just be that the particular combination sounds awful in and of itself.

Really, it reminds him of Dani, and the way she’d strained against her position in his life. He’d cared for the girl very much ー had felt horrible about how she’d been created and used by Vlad, just to fuck with him, and he’d understood when she’d been desperate to get out of Amity. He’d missed her, of course, but not for one second would he have begrudged her that freedom. Jazz had pointed out, pretty early on, how it was probably better for her to be off somewhere she could be something other than somebody’s clone. And sure, Conner’s situation is obviously going to be different than the particular brand of fuckery Danny has going on, but he wonders if the other boy has ever started to chafe against the clear comparisons people seem to be making between him and Superman. After all, from everything Danny’s read, it’s a hell of a legacy to live up to. But then again, if he’d felt so comfortable as Superboy that he’d never bothered to push for his own name, maybe he doesn’t feel that way at all.

Maybe one day they’ll be close enough for Danny to ask. After the stress of last night, it probably shouldn’t be anytime soon, though. For now Danny basks, in the slowly strengthening light of early morning. Outside, birds call out to each other ー birds that have served as Danny’s alarm clock for weeks. He listens to their conversations, pulling the comforter tighter around him, but as he does so, a sensation of wrongness washes over him. The comforter, heavy and solid, begins to slip through his fingers, and at his shoulders the tension in the fabric starts to lessen.

“What?” Danny mutters, frowning in confusion. The sensation in his hands feels like his intangibility, but he knows he didn’t instigate it himself. Danny frowns, trying to remember the last time he’d lost control of his powers. There had, of course, been some aftereffects the last time he’d gotten captured. The GIW had picked up Vlad’s habit of shocking him and ran hard with it, to the point that Danny hadn’t felt normal again for more than a week after his friends had gotten him out. But that had been a unique circumstance, and Danny’s pretty damn certain he hasn’t been shocked any time recently. Having his powers act up on their own is something Danny hasn’t struggled with since those early months after the portal incident.

“No.” Danny chokes out, as he feels the intangibility spreading up his arms to his shoulders. He’s free. He’s safe. This can’t be happening now. He’s been so fucking careful, he can’t lose his chance at being normal to a stupid fucking rogue power. But Danny can feel the intangibility sinking into his back, slipping Danny into that space where he can’t quite touch anything. The once-cozy folds of the comforter slowly fall through him, as Danny loses the last remnant of his tangibility.

Frantically, Danny launches himself up from the bed. He has to get out of here. Has to find somewhere to hide, can’t risk his brand new normal life because of this bullshit. But instead of slipping through to the sky above, Danny feels the crack of his skull against the solid mass of the ceiling, and he crashes back down to the bed below.

“Fuck, ow, ow, ow.” Danny mutters, curling in on himself to cradle his throbbing head. Pain lances up and down in steady pulses, erasing any other sensations from his awareness as he whines. He counts the prime numbers carefully in his head, as the best distraction he can manage from the pulsing pain, until it begins to dull. His newly acquired headache will undoubtedly be with him all day, but at least he shouldn’t need a doctor. Accelerated healing is occasionally useful.

By the time Danny feels steady enough to get up, the sunlight filtering into his room is full-strength and the clock on his nightstand informs him that it’s nearly seven thirty. Panic sets in very briefly as the blinking red numbers trigger a long-ingrained fear of being late, and Danny’s halfway through his scramble to get dressed before he remembers he has nowhere to be. Robin had said he could start his coursework whenever he was ready ー apparently all his assignments were due at the end of the semester and in the meantime he could just progress as he liked. It sounded like an extremely impractical setup to Danny; he can just imagine how many of his classmates would have taken the opportunity to slack off and ended up never turning anything in, but then, he supposes the consequences of that would have rung true when they failed the class. It’s a trade-off, he supposes. Exceptional freedom, in exchange for a hell of a lot of personal responsibility. Kind of fitting, considering his now-emancipated status.

So, Danny has all the time in the world. But if he intends to hold to his determination to do well, he probably should at least look at the workload today, and start making up a schedule for getting it all done. Still, he’s not in a rush. He has time for breakfast, at the very least.

Danny plods to the kitchen, doing his best to think around the ache in his head. Robin had definitely mentioned stocking the kitchen with essentials, though Danny has no clue what the other boy would have considered essentials. Robin seems like a frighteningly competent kind of person, so who’s to say whether he prepared for Danny’s absolutely tragic levels of incompetence in the kitchen. He’s actually a little bit excited at the prospect of being able to actually learn to cook, but at the moment he thinks he’d prefer literally anything pre-made.

Still, it’s probably good to know what his options are so he heads over to explore his refrigerator. The shelves are neatly organized (hardly surprising) but Danny realizes as he observes the contents, that he really has no clue what normal people should have in their fridge. Milk, Danny’s used to, since you need it for cereal, and it’s not dead enough to be likely to come back to life, but his family’s ever-present fare of hotdogs are notably missing from the lineup. Instead he finds a carton of eggs, and a couple jars of jam, which both seem logical enough, but Danny has no clue what Robin’s expectations are of the handful of myriad fruits and vegetables he sees. There’s two apples and three lemons on the top shelf, and Danny’s pretty sure he sees some potatoes in one of the drawers. A closer glance reveals that he’s not only got potatoes, but also a handful of carrots, two onions, and a couple of yellow and green cucumbers.

Danny considers them with acute bemusement. He can imagine Jazz praising Robin’s choices, though Danny has absolutely no clue what to do with yellow cucumbers, since he didn’t even know they existed. After a moment's consideration, Danny decides to check the freezer too, and is surprised to find a box of frozen waffles, some sausage patties, and a couple bags of frozen fruit chunks.

The cupboards are a bit slower to go through, but he quickly decides the review was well worth it when he discovers a cabinet that contains some simple first aid equipment. He may burn through painkillers faster than he used to, but with any luck by the time they wear off, Danny’s headache will be down to easily ignorable margins.

“Robin is my favorite superhero,” Danny mutters, swallowing the pills, and considering his options. There’d been a large assortment of canned goods, which Danny hadn’t bothered to really look through yet, as well as peanut butter, syrup, and some other unopened sauces in the cupboards. Danny had also managed to identify where most of his dishes were, and a surprising number of cooking utensils. The pans had come with a little note warning him to not use metal on their nonstick surfaces ‘lest you invoke the wrath of my grandfather.’ The warning was ominous but also kind of adorable. Robin had shown no inclination to reveal his own identity to Danny, but he had no doubts that this mention of his family was an intentional move on his part. Danny can certainly understand the other boy wanting to protect his family from hero stuff, though Danny hopes for Robin’s sake, they at least know about his work.

He carefully transfers the sticky note to the fridge, but decides not to brave the stove just yet. As nice an addition as eggs would be, for today Danny will happily settle with waffles and sausage. He gets the waffles started in the toaster, and follows the simple instruction on the sausage bag, to reheat them in the microwave, but as the waffles toast, Danny glances back over at the freezer. He’s never tried making a smoothie before, but how hard could it be? He’d found a little personal-sized blender in one of the cupboards - the kind that’s specifically designed for smoothies, and between the fruit and the milk, he can probably make something tolerable.

By the time Danny is satisfied with his smoothie, the waffles are ready too, and Danny carefully adds them to the plate with the sausage, and then gleefully smothers the lot in syrup and digs in. Eventually, he’s consumed the last of his sausage, and Danny carries the plate to the sink, and drops it in. He should probably put it in the dishwasher now, but the folder Robin had left him has been staring him down the entire time he was eating, and Danny’s desperate to examine the contents, so instead just walks away, grabbing the folder and opening it, sitting himself at the stool he wasn’t just eating at.

Just as Robin had told him, the left side of the folder contains a number of important documents, from a birth certificate, to an emancipation order, and tucked in the front is his very own US Passport. Danny stares at it for a long moment, his own face gazing back at him from the photo Robin had taken a couple weeks ago. He picks it up and cradles it in his hands, before setting it carefully to the side. 

On the right side of the folder, Danny pulls out a thick document that must be his lease. Paper-clipped to the front of it is a separate page that seems to be explaining the terms and conditions in much simpler terms, probably courtesy of Robin, again. He certainly appreciates the simple run-down of what he is and isn’t allowed to do, because Danny hadn’t even thought about that aspect of renting. He reads through it, then takes it over to the fridge to attach it with one of the magnets.

Beneath the lease, Danny finds more paperwork with an attached sticky note. This is the necessary paperwork to set up a bank account for yourself. Just sign and initial in the highlighted locations, mail it to the listed address, and you should get confirmation in a few days.

The next paper, Danny quickly discovers, is a compiled list of possible workplaces in Concord, with notes about how well they treat their employees. That will definitely be useful soon enough. The idea of an actual job is a little scary, but Danny’s determined to earn his own money, and he certainly doesn’t know the first thing about how to recognize a good workplace.

The rest of the papers are similar notes of useful locations in the city, as well as some possible resources for anything he needs help with, including the names and contact info for a couple organizations that defend meta rights. Danny will probably have to look them up later, but for now, he reorganizes the paperwork all back into the folder, and takes it to his office. He doesn’t want to leave all this important stuff out on the counter, but he’s definitely got work to do.

He takes the time to sign the bank paperwork first, and once he’s got it in the pre-addressed envelope Robin had left him, he takes it off to find the mailbox. Luckily for Danny, it’s very visible from the front entrance to his building, but once he’s slipped the envelope through the slot, Danny takes a deep breath. It’s a nice day outside, and it feels a little weird to have spent so long inside today, so instead of heading back in Danny, decides to wander over to the park. His head is still throbbing enough that he probably shouldn’t do any running, but walking is still kind of nice, and the crisp fall air feels good. 

Once he’s back home, Danny opens his laptop carefully, the planner Robin had gifted him carefully nestled in his lap. Danny’s school login is carefully noted on the front page, and soon Danny is clicking around the website familiarizing himself with the layout. It seems pretty straightforward and intuitive, which is a huge relief. He finds the syllabus page, and quickly copies out the important details into the notes section of his planner. The contact info for his teacher is useful and kind of surprising, though Danny supposes it makes a lot more sense in an online learning environment. After all, there’s always the chance of the website crashing.

He’s pleasantly surprised to discover his teachers do include a suggested timeline for his work. He’d been assuming he’d have to work up a schedule for getting it done reasonably, but instead, he flips to the calendar section and notes down the various dates his teachers have listed. He’ll still have to fudge it to account for the month and a half they already are into the semester, but the suggested dates offer Danny a starting point that accounts for how long his teachers expect different assignments to take him.

A couple hours later, Danny finally finishes filling out the last week of the semester. He’s got two final projects so-to-speak and three tests, though Danny is still reeling at the discovery that all his tests are intended to be open book. He supposes that’s easier than trying to monitor online students for cheating, but the idea is still bemusing to him.

With a deep breath, Danny flips back to the current week, and reviews his list of work to get done. Deciding to start himself off easy, he picks one of the science assignments, and locates the corresponding document on the website. There is, after all, no time like the present. So Danny settles in to read the instructions, ready to prove that he really can succeed at school, when he doesn’t have to worry about ghost attacks.

[wooahaes]

svt- coming out as bisexual [maknae line]

pairing: non-idol!svt maknae line x fem!bisexual!reader

genre: some are angstier and lean toward hurt/comfort (mingyu + minghao), others are fluffier.

warnings: reader mentioned to have exes that aren't men (just women in seokmin's drabble, reader has dated both women and a non-binary person in seungkwan's). vague food mentions in mingyu's, minghao's, and vernon's drabbles (implied something fried in mingyu's due to the usage of cooking oil, mentions of tea in minghao's, vague dinner reference in vernon's). reader getting defensive in mingyu and minghao's drabbles. reader no longer speaks to her parents in mingyu's drabble due to biphobia from her parents. reader's ex in minghao's drabble is biphobic, but left ambiguous what he said to her. angry hao (not directed at reader). extremely casual coming out (seungkwan). joking reference to joshua beating up seungkwan if he didn't react well. reader being cheesy as fuck (vernon). questioning leading to realization (vernon). reader refers to herself as a bisexual mess. chan being kind of a mess (clueless but trying his best).

daisy's notes: happy pride! a continuation of these for the maknae line :) again, no taglist purely bc i don't know who will and won't be interested in this since it is a bit more exclusive.

lee seokmin

"if there's something you want to say, you can say it." seokmin's touch was feather-light as he cupped your cheeks. "i'm listening."

sometimes you wondered how you struck out with meeting seokmin, let alone dating him. he was one of the kindest souls you'd had the pleasure of knowing, let alone loving, and now was no different. tears brimmed your eyes as you replayed the past few minutes over and over in your head. you hadn't meant to come out like this. you wanted to have it be something more... official, in an odd way. something you had control over. but all it took was you ranting about one of your exes to seokmin for you to slip up and say that magic "she" that gave you away entirely.

seokmin hadn't meant to pry or force you out of the closet. but you saw the way he looked up, clearly caught up on that word. "she?" he'd said, soft enough that you thought it was just him musing aloud.

meanwhile, you swore all of the blood drained from your face right t hen and there. "i... uh..." you stammered out. every time you tried to come up with an excuse, the words seemed to dissipate on your tongue, melting away like cotton candy. you wanted to say something, anything. that it was a slip of the tongue. that he heard you correctly and, yes, one of your exes was a woman. that if he had a problem with it, you'd gather your belongings from around his apartment and leave right now.

that was what led to seokmin taking your face into his hands. he looked at you now with this softness in his eyes, ever so loving, and you were sure that he knew you were something other than straight. did you really have to say it? wasn't him knowing, even vaguely, enough? you averted your gaze, and seokmin dropped his hands from your cheeks down to your shoulders, slowly running down your arms until he met your hands.

"you don't have to," he said a moment later. "but if you want to, i'm listening."

you met his gaze. the words died on your tongue again. "you aren't mad i didn't tell you?"

he shook his head. "should i be?" he teased lightly, but dropped the tone when he saw the way you stiffened up over it. "sorry. it's not the time for jokes," he squeezed your hands. "if you don't want to say it, that's okay. whatever you are," he paused, "and whoever you are... i'll still love you. okay? i fell in love with you."

your face grew warmer at just how tender seokmin could be. "so it's really not a problem that i'm bisexual and just... didn't tell you? i mean, it's not like i don't take care of myself, so if you're worried that i'm not cle—"

"it's your identity," he firmly said, stopping you before you could spiral any further. "but... thank you for telling me," he leaned in to press a soft kiss against your forehead. "i love you."

you just smiled, a rosy warm feeling blossoming in your chest. "i love you, too, sunshine."

kim mingyu

"i was thinking..." mingyu was stretched out on your couch, listening to the clamor of pots and pans as you focused on making an elaborate dinner. "we've been dating for a while..."

"mhm?"

"and you've met my family..."

your stomach immediately dropped. oh no. even though you knew where this was going, you had to play dumb. maybe he'd catch your drift and go along with it. "uh-huh? well, kim, if this is a marriage proposal, i think we're still a little too early into a relationship for that—"

he didn't hesitate to ask. "when can i meet yours?"

shit. the spatula slipped from your grasp, clattering against the stove-top far too loudly for your liking. a glance over your shoulder was enough to tell you that mingyu had leaned up to look, watching you carefully. you waved him off, cleaning up where you'd splattered a little bit of oil onto the countertop with your clumsy action. it gave you a moment to think. people were sometimes weird about the fact you'd gone no-contact with your parents as soon as you could stand on your own two feet. a curt never, haha, sorry! would unfortunately never work. but...

"i... i don't think that's exactly gonna happen, mingyu." you didn't turn to look at him. the conversation would be easier if you didn't.

but you heard the sound of him getting up off of the couch, making his way over. "is there a reason?" he crossed his arms, leaning against the nearby counter. "or is it me?"

"it's not you," you didn't hesitate. the last thing you wanted him thinking was that you didn't like him. with a deep breath, you turned to face mingyu. "i don't talk to my parents anymore because they never accepted that i'm bisexual."

he said nothing at first, just staring at you as everything sank in. not that you blamed him: if someone unloaded all of that onto you, you'd probably need a couple minutes to process. all you heard from him was a soft "oh."

"is that going to be a problem?" you crossed your arms. "because if it is, you can leave my apartment right fucking now—"

he shook his head. "honey, i'd never have a problem with any of that," he said as calmly as he could, a steady stream in contrast to the way you were already starting to burn. "i won't bring it up again, though. i'm sorry."

you let out a long sigh, head dropping down for a minute. shit. you knew you had the tendency to get defensive too quickly over this shit. "sorry, mingyu—"

"don't," he said. "it's okay." he stepped closer to you. "i shouldn't have pushed. i think most people don't cut off contact from their parents unless they have a reason."

"no," you pressed a hand to his chest, "it's a fair question. i just..." with a heavy sigh, you shook your head. "i came out to them when i was a teenager, and they basically told me i was desperate for love. and once i could afford to live on my own... i cut contact." you met his gaze a moment later. "some people get weird about it and tell me that i should reach out because they're my parents, i wouldn't be here without them, but... it's not their decision."

he took your hand in his own, drawing it up so that he could kiss your knuckles. "it's not," he affirmed. "but... you're not desperate," mingyu said softly, "i know you know that, but you're just you. and i love you," he smiled, so giddy and in love with you as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

you found yourself smiling as you pecked his cheek in return. "and i love you, silly," you giggled. "thank you, though. for understanding."

he stepped behind you once you turned back to the meal you were almost finished cooking, wrapping his arms around you. "it's my job," he chuckled. "but you're welcome. and if it means anything..." he shut his eyes, resting against you now. "my family loves you. and so do all of my friends," he giggled. "and so do your friends. so... i think you already have a better family now."

"i know." you smiled to yourself. you'd picked this family out for yourself, after all. but the reminder helped.

xu minghao

there were only so many situations that would lead to what you were dealing with now: minghao, face burning with anger, as he was forcibly dragged out of a restaurant by you. you hadn't let go of him at all, dragging him up the street despite the way he struggled against you once, then twice, before giving in. he was being irrational and he knew it, and you just needed to get him out of there before something bad happened.

"can you stop and tell me what just happened?!" he finally snapped at you, ripping his wrist from your grasp. "who was that and why was he disrespecting you?"

of course that was what he zeroed in on. not the fact your ex-boyfriend was right about to out you to minghao before you'd even ordered drinks, but the fact the guy was being a dick to you. not that it was a surprise: the guy had been disgusting toward you when you came out to him. of course he'd try to "warn" minghao about what he was getting into now.

"that," you said, "was my ex. and we're not having this conversation here."

minghao balled his fists, standing his ground. "he was being horrible to you. you should have let me shut him down. i'm your boyfriend," he said, "if you're scared to stand up for you, then let me do it for you. no one should treat you like that."

"which is why he's my ex," you pointed out. "i don't need you to fight my battles for me."

"that's not what i—"

you shook your head. "if you want to talk, we're going back to my place. i don't want to talk about it here."

that seemed to finally register with minghao, who had slowly been coming back down from that burst of anger. he looked around, realizing that, while the two of you weren't attracting attention, there were other people around. so he nodded, and took your hand as you guided him home. and he didn't let go: not on the taxi ride there, not in the elevator, and not until you needed to let yourself into your apartment.

you excused yourself to make yourself a cup of tea, offering to make him one as well. minghao accepted the offer before looking around your apartment. it'd been a bit since he'd made it over here again. he'd been busy, and most of the time, you were meeting him out or going to his place to hang out for cozy at-home dates.

soon enough, you'd settled down next to him. "i'm only going to explain this once," you said, "okay? i don't want to think about him too often, so..."

minghao immediately stopped you. "you don't have to tell me," he said, voice softer now. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have snapped--"

you shook your head. "you're right, you shouldn't have, but i'm still going to tell you so you know." with a deep breath, you set down the cup of tea. "i'm bisexual. i figured it out during college. that," you vaguely nodded in a direction, "was my ex-boyfriend. i came out to him, and he said... some things," your voice was dripping with venom at even the vague memory, "and i ended it with him right then and there. so when we ran into him tonight, he was trying to warn you about my sexuality."

minghao grimaced. "that's not his place."

"which is why i dragged you out of there," you said. "before he could out me."

all at once, you saw the realization hit minghao like a truck. he hadn't considered that part of it all. his lips parted for a moment, and then he closed his mouth again, shaking his head. "i'm sorry," he said again, voice softer now. "i should have realized—"

you clasped your hand over his mouth, minghao's eyes widening in surprise. "don't. i don't want to think about it. you already apologized for getting angry, so let's just leave it at that. okay?"

he slowly nodded, pushing your hand away from his mouth. "thank you for trusting me with this, by the way," his voice was still soft, gentle enough to truly mean it. then he frowned. "i hate that he ruined our night now," he said. he'd been wanting to show you that restaurant for a while now. "you deserve better than that."

"i know," you reached forward, pinching his cheek lightly. "because i have you."

he met your gaze and smiled. "thank you," he giggled, hand resting over your own. "i'm glad i have you in my life, too."

boo seungkwan

"you know i've kissed girls, right?"

seungkwan shot up from where he'd been reclined on the couch, scrolling through social media. his phone clattered to the floor, and he turned to watch where you continued to idly work on a cross-stitch project. it was as if you hadn't said anything. but he heard you, right? you said something, right? should he say something in response...? he just sat there, watching you, hoping you'd give something up. after a moment, you glanced up from your project to see the way seungkwan was just staring at you, at a loss for words.

"well?" you set your project down, turning to face him. "jeez, dude, you kinda suck at this whole 'coming out' thing--"

wait, what? "you're...?"

"bisexual," you grinned at him, resting your head in one hand. "i've been trying to decide on the best way to come out to you for a while now. and... i dunno, one of my friends just said to tell you i've dated women before." for a moment, you paused. "and one non-binary person, actually. they were cool, even though it didn't last that long."

seungkwan still had no idea what the hell to say to this. he almost wished that this had been more emotional. he could deal with emotional, with holding you and telling you he loved you and accepted you no matter what. what he was struggling to deal with was how you seemed to be taking joy out of how at a loss for words he was right now.

"well?" you watched him, smiling that evil smile of yours. no wonder joshua and jeonghan had been so eager to introduce "a friend of theirs" to seungkwan forever ago. you fit right in with them. "should i have bought you a lemon square? or cuffed my jeans? or—"

seungkwan finally stood up, crossing the room. "you're so mean to me," he said, squishing your cheeks. "always teasing me..." then his gaze softened a little, although his voice never wavered from that playful tone, "is this really how you're coming out to me?"

it earned a delighted snort of joy from you. "do you have a problem with it?" even with your smushed face, you were hellbent on teasing him. "joshua said he'd come beat you up if you reacted badly."

seungkwan rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips before drawing back. "i love youuuu," he said, drawing the word out to tease you back. he drew his hand away from your face, watching the way you stretched your jaw a little now that you were free. "but if i'm being serious... then thank you for telling me," he said, voice growing softer. "i know you're enjoying teasing me, but i know this is a big step for you."

your smile fell for just a few seconds. seungkwan had seen through your bravado, and you mouthed a soft thanks. and then you returned to smiling, burning brighter than ever. "you live another day, my sweet boo."

he rolled his eyes, kissing your forehead. "i could take joshua," he said. "i could."

with a delighted giggle, you wrapped your arms around him, bringing him closer to you. "i know you could."

vernon chwe

"the moon's beautiful tonight," you mused aloud, holding onto vernon's arm. the two of you had opted for a walk by the river after dinner. "you know what else is beautiful?"

vernon looked over at you with a soft hum. he knew where you were going with this, but... if you wanted to be cheesy and romantic, then who was he to stop you? "who?"

"you," you giggled. and then you squeezed his arm. you had averted your gaze, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment as you suddenly seemed a little more distant from him. "and, uh... a lot of people, actually."

it earned a snort from him. "oh, yeah?" he turned to you, ready to tease you. "and who are these other guys?"

"not just guys, silly," you said, drifting from his side a little. "i think women are kinda hot, too. actually... everyone's just kind of hot and i think i'm just a big mess because of it."

vernon watched you curiously for a moment. he followed after you. "so... like... in what way?"

"i've been thinking a lot lately," you admitted. "and... i dunno. i think when i started googling quizzes to figure out my sexuality, that should have been a really big sign that i'm bisexual, y'know?" you glanced at him. "and... i dunno, i really wanted to tell you. so... i'm telling you."

vernon just slowly nodded along. "i see..."

you slowed to a stop. "i don't know why i'm bringing this up tonight. i just..." you rested a hand over your heart for a moment. "it's like i've had this big secret stuck inside of me for so long, and... you're the first person i want to tell because i know you won't react badly. because you've always been a really sweet guy, you know?"

the heat traveled to his face at that. this was your moment, and still you found it within yourself to compliment him. he just stood before you, unsure of what to say. should he wait until you were finished? he wanted to tell you that he loved you, that he'd always accept you, that he supported you. all the things you deserved to hear.

"i think that's why i've felt so safe exploring this part of myself, too." you reached forward, taking his hands in yours. "because i knew that if i am bisexual... then you'll be right there to support me. because you're you. and... i'm me." you met his gaze, a soft smile on your face. "and i'm bisexual and... i really, really like knowing that now. i'm just this big bisexual mess sometimes, but it's who i am, you know?"

he squeezed your hands tight for a moment. "i'm glad you feel safe with me," he said, voice soft. he leaned forward to kiss you gently. "so, uh. thanks for telling me," he chuckled. "sorry—i'm not good at this, am i?"

"you're perfect as you are, silly," you giggled. "but, uh, now you know why i get flustered whenever the pretty barista compliments me."

"nah," he pulled you forward, "i've known compliments fluster you. remember when we first started dating—"

immediately, you let out a groan. "don't remind me."

"you still get all cute when i call you pretty now," he chuckled, swaying with you. "but it's cool. you're my cute, bisexual mess of a girlfriend." he squeezed you a little tighter. "and i love you."

you snuggled into his embrace. "yeah, yeah..." you wrapped your arms around him. "i love you, too, you big dork."

lee chan

"sorry, you're what?"

you genuinely have no idea how to respond right now. you'd ended up blurting out the whole "hey, by the way, i'm bisexual!" thing to chan impulsively, and now... he was just staring at you, completely perplexed now. how were you supposed to answer this? by giving him a definition...? by asking what he didn't understand? hell, did he even hear you correctly?

"bisexual," you answered after a moment. "you know... like... i like more than just guys?"

"no, i—" he shook his head. "i get that. i just... i didn't hear you the first time." he nodded slowly. "so, um... how long have you known?"

you tapped your toes against the floor, suddenly growing more nervous. shit, was this going to be it for the two of you? maybe you should message your housemate to get the ice cream out now. "since i was... sixteen, i think?" you frowned a little. "i dunno. around sixteen. i just..." you took a deep breath. "it's weird to describe, i guess. there was a girl i was crushing on in high school. one day, she hugged me and it all just kinda clicked in my head, and... yeah." you shrugged. "i'm bisexual. is that a problem?"

immediately, he went wide eyed and shook his head. "no! no, no, no—it's not a problem at all!" he set aside his coffee cup. "i was just curious—genuinely! i mean, i didn't know if i should be supporting you questioning and figuring yourself out right now, or if you knew and i should just be supportive and happy for you, or—uh, i—"

something about how flustered you'd made him made you laugh. he grew quieter, cheeks rosy as he watched you giggle to yourself for a moment.

"it's not a problem," he reaffirmed one last time. "you're still you. you're still my girlfriend," he reached across the table, interlocking his fingers with your own. "and i love you. thank you for trusting me with this." he paused for a moment. "does anyone know?"

"my parents, for one," you said, counting off on your fingers. "a lot of my really close friends know. uh, your friend vernon knows, but that's because he somehow knows my ex-girlfriend and he just put two and two together when we started dating. and, uh, seungcheol—but that's because i told him forever ago before he ever introduced us. i'm, like, out, but it's not something i just go around saying, y'know?"

he nodded along. "okay. good to know." he ran his thumb over your knuckles. "i mean it, though. thank you for telling me." he paused once more, looking up at you. "can... can i ask you questions about it? or is that too much?"

something about the soft look in chan's eyes endeared you to him more than before. he seemed so shy now. a little clueless as to how to go forward, but he did seem like he genuinely cared. "questions like...?"

"how you knew," he said softly, "and if there's anything i can do to not mess this up with you. i've, um," his faced was flushed, "i don't think i've dated a bisexual before and i don't want to say accidentally something stupid that hurts you. i've, um—i've heard about people doing that, you know?"

"i think you're already overthinking it a little," you said softly. "just keep treating me like me, and if you do say something without thinking, we'll talk about it. okay?"

his shoulders slumped a little, whatever pressure he was putting himself under having been lifted. "right! right," he ran his thumb over your knuckles once more, face burning red now. "right. i... i'm sorry," he laughed nervously, meeting your gaze again after a moment. "i'm a mess."

"you're a cute mess," you giggled. you reached out, brushing a strand of hair back from his eyes. "but i am, too."

his eyes twinkled a little as he looked at you like you were his world. "a cuter mess," he said. "but... really. thank you for telling me and—and trusting me. i'm really glad you do."

[hrizantemy]

Tbh, it‘s not just the problems that come down later like when Nyx loses both of his parents because of the damn bargain…

The very thought of sharing everything, and I really mean LITERALLY EVERYTHING with someone disturbs me. Feyre doesn’t have anything that used to belong to just to her anymore. Her soul, her time, her entire future and now her death is shared with Rhys. Even her past can’t be her own if Rhys is free to go into her head and look at her past memories.

This would make me feel.. suffocating. I would need some time to breath, which means time away from him for a long time. I would think of bringing Nesta and Elain (pre acosf) to the continent (and the other courts too) and we would deal with our shit there without anyone interfering and I‘m sure that would‘ve helped our relationship, especially for Nesta, far more than when the Inner circle keeps interfering. Mating bond is closed, mental shield is up. We‘d be gone until we‘re all 3 healed, relationship stronger than ever and I have plan for my future. The very thought of my entire existence depending on someone else is scaring me.

I‘d rather much grieve my loved ones than literally die with them. Feyre can’t do shit anymore without making sure that Rhys is safe, literally.

And sure, you could say that Rhys also has nothing of his own anymore, but Rhys has already lived for centuries, of course he‘d then choose a simple life. Feyre is only in her 20 and she barely had a good childhood. That girl needs time away from him to get a clear mind.

In the words of Sexyy Red: “Fuck Feyre’s baby dad.”

Now, let’s get into it.

The way the series presents Feyre and Rhysand’s relationship as the ultimate ideal—this all-consuming, soul-deep connection—ends up feeling less like love and more like a loss of identity. Love should enhance who you are, not erase it. But Feyre’s story becomes increasingly about how she exists in relation to Rhys rather than as her own person. The moment the mating bond snaps into place, everything about her life, choices, and even her death revolves around him.

And it’s not just about the literal aspects of their bond, like the bargain tying their deaths together. It’s the psychological weight of it all. Feyre doesn’t have space to process her trauma alone. She doesn’t get a break from Rhys being inside her head, her memories, her emotions. There’s no room for independence because even when she thinks she’s making her own decisions, they always circle back to Rhys. And since Rhys has positioned himself as the person who “saved” her from Tamlin, there’s a deeply uncomfortable undertone of permanent indebtedness.

The scariest part is that she never even considers walking away—not because she doesn’t want to, but because the narrative doesn’t let her. She’s never given the time or space to even question whether this dynamic is healthy for her. And she should have had that chance. Feyre was thrown into a life-changing bond at an age where she barely had a chance to live. The girl spent her entire human life in survival mode, then her Fae life immediately became about either escaping Tamlin, fighting wars, or being Rhys’s equal in power. Where was the room to discover herself?

Your idea of Feyre, Nesta, and Elain leaving to the Continent is brilliant because it forces them to exist outside of the people who have defined them for so long. Imagine what could have happened if they had the chance to just be—to build something for themselves away from the expectations of the Night Court. Nesta especially needed to be removed from the suffocating pressure of the Inner Circle’s forced interventions, and Feyre desperately needed to see herself outside of the “High Lady” identity that Rhys pushed on her. They wouldn’t be coddled or controlled. They’d be able to make mistakes, explore who they are without judgment, and heal on their own terms.

But instead, Feyre is locked into a fate where she can’t even breathe without Rhys being a part of it. The more you think about it, the more terrifying it is. It’s one thing to love someone deeply, but it’s another to lose yourself in them entirely. Feyre never gets the choice to be her own person anymore—her past, present, and future are all dictated by her mate bond, her duties, and her role as Rhysand’s other half. And the worst part? The story presents this as romantic.

It’s not romantic. It’s suffocating. Feyre deserved the choice to live for herself.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

It's funny to me how you put these tags just as the newest episode revealed that Nathalie has been working for a secret organization this entire time and is taking commands from her dad who surprise surprise wants the ladybug and cat miraculouses

(Post in question for context)

[Image transcript: a series of tags reading "She is not a safe person and I HATE that she knows Marinette's identity Wtf is this show doing? Nathalie knowing Ladybug's identity should be a terrible thing that makes Marinette quit"]

Oh, so that's why Nathalie refused to turn herself in and convinced Ladybug to lie in the London special!

Nathalie: It's time to tell the truth. Bug Noire: If you do that, you'll go to jail. Nathalie: Isn't the truth worth it? Bug Noire: If you tell the truth, Adrien will have no one left. He'll have lost his mom, his dad, you. Nathalie: He will have you. Bug Noire: It's not' the same. He needs a mother. Nathalie: I'm not his mother. Bug Noire: You're the closest thing to a mother he's got. (Bunnyx runs over to the window as it continues playing)That's why Gabriel Agreste sacrificed himself, it's what finally made him a good father to Adrien and that's what Adrien should remember. Nathalie: Don't you want to tell Adrien that his father was Monarch? Bug Noire: The only thing I can fix is the way Adrien will remember his father. Nathalie: But that would be lying to him.

Oh, wait, no, my bad, that's the exact opposite of what happened in this dialogue! Why would you write the scene like this if Nathalie is still evil? And if Nathalie isn't evil anymore, then why is she keeping the evil organization a secret from Ladybug? This seems like something Ladybug should know about and this dialogue does not set Nathalie up as wanting to maintain secrets. Nothing in the special does!

[Image description: Fear from Pixar's Inside Out yelling "Boo! Pick a plotline!"]

I haven't seen El Toro De Piedra, so maybe there's something I'm missing, but doesn't this secret organization reveal basically destroy the popular argument that Nathalie is obeying Marinette's wishes re the lies because Nathalie no longer trusts herself to make good calls after all her years supporting Gabriel? If that was really the case, then Nathalie would have told Marinette about the secret organization and let Marinette decide what to do, but it sounds like that's not what happened. Nathalie feels totally comfortable making all the calls and controlling the information re the evil organization! She's only leaving Marinette to make the calls when it comes to Adrien's relationship with his father, a thing Marinette knows almost nothing about but that Nathalie actively watched deteriorate over the entire course of Adrien's life.

You can't have this both ways. Either Nathalie is a broken woman who is basically Marinette's puppet or Nathalie is a functional adult who is fully responsible for her own choices. Pick a lane.

I'm posting this now instead of waiting for the script because this is going to bother me until I get an answer. I legitimately want to know if the episode does anything to address any of these issues. Based on this ask, this is just adding fuel to my, "Nathalie should have been the liar" stance. Why is Marinette even involved in the lies if Nathalie is the one with all the actual secrets and information? It doesn't sound like the lies are doing anything interesting for Marinette's character or her relationship with Adrien. Can Adrien please get someone in his life who actually respects him? Can the writers please get rid of the asinine "Marinette must be wrong" rule when it makes no sense for the actual plot?

Gods, if Nathalie was actually written as still evil then this could have been amazing! The plot beats are all there, the writers just failed on every level. I'm still annoyed that her undoing Adrien's senticommands was presented as her being a good mom and not as her just using Adrien to fuck with Gabriel. Let my evil queen be an evil queen, gods damn it!