#had to just spit this out cause the amount of people who have just been sayin you cant dislike aspects of a game has been growing and uhm

[peachiseas]

Ya know, as someone who has been in this fandom for nearly 2-3 years, I have seen so many people jump at other people for being critical of OL when there are very obvious fuck ups that the game devs should have taken time to correct instead of letting it stay and fester.

For example:

Terry's step 4 design in general and how grossly sexualized it is when he's a trans man

The inclusion of white supremacy through one of the LI's parents

Cliff never having a set enthicity and therefore letting people decide what race Cove should be so they dont have to worry about confronting their feelings on dating a mixed man

I can go on and on about this, but you can enjoy a game and criticize aspects of it that wasn’t handled well. You should, at the very least, be neutral on when people criticize those aspects because each criticism is an improvement that the devs can take forward to their next games

[losersiren]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

[enwoso]

CASUAL — leah williamson

wow, it’s a long one. this has admittedly taken me so long to write. i had the idea of this fic at the start of october but for some reason its just took so long to actually finish lol, but anyways as always hope you enjoy🤍

warning: implied smut, mdni 18+

masterlist

"girl where did you end up last night?" your best friend and also flatmate, amelie asked as you sat in your local cafe debriefing from last nights' night out events over a 'morning' coffee — it was more late afternoon — the two of you having very different endings to the night.

you sat swirling the dregs of your coffee around as you tried to find the way to explain, not so much how you didn't end up back at the flat cause you know she's knows that after catching you walking through the front door at nine am this morning in last nights clothes your head hanging from both the severe amount of alcohol you'd consumed last night but also in slight shame.

it was more whose apartment you stayed at you were trying to find the words to tell her about.

"oh y/n. you didn't did you-" amelie began as you nodded as a defeated sigh left your lips. that being all the clarification your best friend needed. ok, it may not be your proudest moment but who are you to deny a sexy, goddess of a women. but you knew this was heading in the direction of your getting another ear full.

"y/n.. what have i told you, you need to cut all ties with leah. you deserve someone who's going to treat you so much better-" amelie reached out grabbing your hands as you were still looking down at your coffee cup, you looked up a little.

you knew she was right, but you couldn't admit that to yourself. there was something about leah she was addicting and no matter how many times you ended up in between her sheets telling yourself it was the last time, it always happened again.

"yeah but-" you began but amelie gave you a stern look as her eyebrows raised as you rolled your eyes, "ok i get the message, i'll put it on my to-do list — cut leah williamson off." you dryly said, knowing it would be easier said than actually done.

"seriously you need too, your acting like a loser-" amelie continued as you opened your mouth to say something about the small insult she'd thrown your way but you were unable to. "you are though, your better than the rumours that people are spitting-"

"how do you-"

"people talk y/n!"

you'd heard the rumours going around the locals plus there'd been some article posted on an instagram post noticing you in leah's car after a match — you being labelled as 'mysterious girl'.

you weren't known to the media, thank god, you were lucky if you had over two hundred followers as if you had anymore than that fans would have an absolute field day with the news.

instead you were just a normal, twenty six year old girl who'd grown up in north london and had the usual nine to five corporate job as well as having a casual relationship with the leah williamson but you kept that under wraps as after all it was just something which was casual.

you'd met through a mutual friend of yours who also happened to be one of leah's teammates. lotte, who you went to school together and you'd stayed somewhat in contact. it always being a pleasant surprise to see her whenever your paths crossed.

you had bumped into her in a coffee shop near hours before you were being pressed up against a club wall by a blonde defender, having had one too many. the two of you had spent the night being overly touchy and flirting, her lips being felt all around your body leaving your skin feeling hot and your head all fuzzy.

"mine or yours?" leah whispered against your ear, as her teeth grazed your earlobe, you having to refrain yourself from whimpering. leah's hands gripping your hips as your were tangled in the ends of her hair.

"yours" you managed to get out, although it was quiet leah hear every letter. her hands reaching up to grab your hand as she dragged you through the club and towards the exit without as much of a bat of an eyelid towards her friends who she was leaving behind.

to both your luck there was a black cab waiting on the side of the road, both of you taking the chance to get in as leah immediately told the driver her address.

leah's hand stayed on your thigh the entire time as her thumb drew little circles absentmindedly, the busy streets of london making it feel like it's taken hours just to get a few minutes up the road.

as you watched out the window there was a cloud of regret you knew you'd feel in the morning but right now that wasn't what you mind wanted. you right now wanted leah.

so as soon as you cross the threshold of her apartment, you were pinned against the wall. the coldness sending a sharp shiver down your spine. "your so gorgeous" leah whispered as her eyes darkened, the sweet innocence of her blue eyes long gone.

inching closer so that your faces were impossibly close, taking one of her hands as it lands on the back of your neck and kisses you. slow but deep.

letting yourself get lost in her lips as it becomes more passionate and searching but then leah leans back a little, realising that you were in the middle of her hallway.

"come with me, baby" she whispers, her accent thick as the pet name rolls off her tongue but laced with love making your head spin even more as she extends her hand for you to grab as she leads you towards her bedroom, pushing the door open with her foot as her other hand laces itself back around you waist pulling you back to being impossibly close to her.

giving her a teasing look as she kisses you again this one more needy and fervent. feeling her hands all around your body nipping and pulling at your skin as you feel the back of you legs on the edge of her bed. a slight push and you back met with softness of her white sheets.

a small moan leaving leah's lips into the kiss as she felt your hands gently squeeze her ass, feeling her smile against your lips knowing that you were having the same affect on her as she was on you. you were both driving each other crazy.

as the kiss grow more sloppy as whines were being strung from both of your lips, your hips mindlessly starting to slowly grind against her. leah moving to kiss your neck leaving small kisses and sucking on your neck that elicited small moans from your lips as your breathing hitches.

leah's kisses to your neck becoming more intense you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second as you hips carried on to move against her. your hands lingering on her back as your nails dug that little deeper, more than likely leaving scratch marks.

"please le-" you moan out softly, needing more.

-

that wasn't the last time you saw the blonde defender, nor the last time you ended up with your limbs tangled between each other.

whenever the other had, had a drink or just when you needed company leah seemed to always be there. you felt like you craved her at all hours of the day. you found your mind sometimes wondering what she may be doing when you weren't by her side.

but you weren't together, it was just a casual thing. is what you found you were telling yourself.

but with each weekend that passed you found yourself spending them with leah more and more often. which is exactly what had happened this weekend.

leah had called you, she never calls you only ever texts. strange is what you thought when you saw her caller id on the screen a small smile slipping onto your lips as you pressed accept.

"hello?" you said as leah was yet to speak, you thought maybe she had called the wrong number. maybe she hadn't meant to call you .

"hi y/n-" she finally spoke but she lacked her usual confident tone, this time it had been replaced with a nervous shake of her accent. like she had something in her head that she needed to get out.

"did you need something le?" you ask as there is a deafening silence on the other end, a few rustling sounds before leah clears her throat.

"um are you doing anything this afternoon-" leah paused as you think to your plans for the afternoon, "more specifically are you doing anything at two?" leah continued as she waited your response as you hummed.

"no i should be free, why?" you asked wondering what this was going to lead to, what did she have planned.

"fabulous!" a breath of relief was let out from leah as she had a big grin on her face on the other line which if you could have saw would have made you smile, "since you aren't doing anything, do you wanna come to my match?"

you felt as though her words had just fell on deaf ears, you couldn't believe what you were actually hearing. ever since you and leah had- well whatever your relationship was it had always been in the darkness of everyone else, behind peoples back and away from prying eyes.

this felt like a step, you didn't know what direction but it felt like it meant something good.

as you tried to contain your happiness you nodded forgetting she wasn't actually in the room with you, "i- um i would love to le"

"great! i'll erm get your tickets sorted and send them over" leah explained as you hummed along before she quickly had to say her goodbyes claiming that she needed to get her pre match routine started.

since having to re-organise your afternoon, you were now going around rushing trying to find an outfit. not knowing if it was too cliche you going in an arsenal jersey of leah's or whether a subtle hint of red in your outfit would be a better idea.

deciding on just the subtle hint of red, finding a red cap which just so happen to also be leah’s which she’d left at yours after one night.

once you got the match you were amazed at the amount of people who had turned up, yourself not being as clued in of how big a scale women’s football was as admittedly you didn’t exactly have a big interest in football or in sport in general.

but for leah, you’d sit and watch football match after match if you knew it would make her happy.

once you found your seat in the stand you quickly sent the blonde a message not expecting her to even reply but she did.

Y/N:) - i’m here! good luck, i’ll be cheering you on☺️

LE<3 - i seen you! i’ve been looking for that hat. but i think it’s found a better home now;)

LE<3 - meet me near the dugout at the end!

finding yourself smiling at her messages as she sent another telling you what to say to the security so they would let you in to where leah wanted you to be, before slipping your phone back into your pocket ready to watch a game of football.

the ninety minutes felt as if they flew by, and at first you must admit you didn’t exactly understand what you were watching so you just cheered when everyone else around you did, but at the first half and definitely into the second half you managed to get a few rules down — with the help of a google search..

watching as leah walked around clapping and waving to fans looking so effortlessly good in her kit and with the fact she’d just run around for a good ninety minutes it never managed to fail to surprise you how easy she made it look.

despite the team only coming out with a draw which you knew leah would be slightly huffed about especially since they were by far the better team, you still were incredibly proud of her.

walking down and reciting the exact words that leah had messaged you to the security you made it to where she had told you to meet her, but that’s when a certain someone recognised you. a wide smile and arms wide open for you.

"oh y/n it's lovely to see you" amanda engulfed you in a hug, a warm fuzzy but also bittersweet feeling filling your chest. you'd met her mum totally by accident one of the first times that you and leah slept together. she'd been dropping of groceries for her daughter. leah trying to rush you out the door before things got to awkward.

but instead amanda being the polite women she is asked her daughter to introduce you to her. it ending up you stayed an extra two hours longer than you'd planned much to leah's discomfort, but in a way that made it all the more that enjoyable.

"what you doing after here?" amanda asked as she pulled you out the hug, leah lingering just behind you chewing the inside of her lip. "just if your not busy you can always join us for a few drinks" amanda smiled so sincerely as you thought over the invitiation briefly, would it be awkward - maybe? but friends can go out for drinks too!

“yeah, i’d love too” you grinned as a small cheer left amanda’s lips, you seeing the slight falter of a look on leah’s face before it turned back to her signature tight lipped frown.

or maybe you did it just to spite the blonde defender who stood so nervous next to you.

"brilliant! leah we'll wait out at the cars for you" amanda directed towards her daughter as she nodded a small sigh leaving her lips as she plastered on a fake smile, you knew there was a part of her that didnt want you there but that just added fuel to your fire.

amanda looping her arm with yours as the two of you walked towards where the cars would be at the back of the emirates stadium to take you and the williamson family for a few drinks to celebrate the win.

"so how have you been?" amanda asks as she walks beside you, a genuine interest in her tone, as you hum catching her up with your life which hadn't been all that exciting, most days merging into one.

"leah tells me you've been helping her with some business project? how's it going?" amanda asks and you swear your throat started to close up, your words getting stuck in between your lips as your eyes goes wide.

"oh- um yeah it's coming together-" quite literally. you stutter out a response hoping it doesn't raise to much suspicion and praying that the topic is over with just as quick as it came.

"leah won't give me a clue what it's about" amanda complains as she continues to tell you about the countless times she tried to get it out of her daughter as you hummed along more in your head as to why leah would say you were just business partners? why not just say your friends, cause after all you were?

"mhm well i won't be one to spoil the surprise then" you nervously chuckled as you saw the cars in the distance knowing you were close to the end of the conversation. amanda letting out a groan as she hoped she'd be able to get the big surprise out of you but that would be pretty hard considering there was no big surprise.

you were going to have to talk with leah, which would be a little odd as when the two of you were alone, not much talking would be done well not the converse action.

amanda letting go of your arm as she got into the other side of the cab, leah coming out the exit of the back of the stadium as she jogged quickly getting into the people carrier. sitting herself in the seat next to you as she shot you a soft smile.

-

the night was actually going smoothly, leah seemed to get out of whatever strop she was in when you were stood with her family in the emirates and was actually talking to you now. well more flirting with you. her hand getting dangerously high up on your thigh as she spoke.

"have i told you how pretty you look-" she blurted out as you took a small sip of your drink, a small smile appearing on your face as you lifted the glass from your lips and back to the table.

"you may have mentioned a few times" you whispered as this time it was leah's time to smile as her hand drifted a little further up your thigh as you shot her look as she squeezed your thigh making you jump in your seat a little.

"le-" you harhsly said inbetween your teeth as she looked at you so innocently as if she had not clue what she was doing to you but you know she knew. leah knew what her touch was doing to you and how it was affecting you.

leah had you right where she wanted you and honestly, you were going to let her - you'd face the consequences later on. right now, you wanted her, in more ways than one.

standing up with a loud scrape of your chair, all eyes turning to land on you, "m'sorry just- i'll be back-" you stutter out, your cheeks all flushed as you made a beeline straight for the toilets.

amanda looking worryingly over her shoulder at you before turning to leah, who just simply shrugged that making her mum's eyebrows furrow even more.

"i better go and check on her" leah stood up excusing herself as she followed suit pushing the door on the pub toilet door seeing you touching up your lip gloss as you regained your composure from the feeling on her hands on your body.

leah locking the door behind her, a rye smile on her lips as she stepped just that little bit closer to you, feeling your heart beat just that little bit faster.

was it nerves, probably but maybe it was more the uncertainty as you never knew what you were going to get with the blonde.

"are you sure?" leah whispered as she placed a quick kiss to your cheek before resting her hands to your hips as a smug smile came from you before you nodded.

"do you think you can keep up?" leah teased as your shot her a shocked look as she pulled you into deeper into the bathroom, your back now pushed flush against the sink.

"i'm sure i can.. business partner-" you whisper as you inch closer to her, making your eyes switch between her eyes and lips a flash of shock appearing on her face.

but just as leah opened her mouth to say another teasing comment, you wrap your hand behind her neck and slam your lips against hers. the kiss quickly turning heated when leah's tongue enters your mouth as a familiar warmth floods your body in seconds,

her hands gripping at your waist as she tugs you closer to her without breaking the kiss. the sound of your lips together was enough to leave an uncomfortable throbbing inbetween your legs.

leah pulls back for a moment searching for anything in your eyes that may say that you don't want this but there was nothing but lust, a small whine leaving your lips at the loss of contact in your lips before leah's diving right back in.

the sound that had been blasting through the pub had now quieten to a mere hum as your focus was solely now on the girl in front of you.

her hands placed on the small on your back slightly pushing in to make your back arch as your chest pushed into her. as leah's hands soon made their way slowly to slide down you your ass as your tongues graze against each other.

"so pretty for me, my love" your heart jumps at her loving tone as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks, leah's words always having some sort of effect on you and always leaving you feeling flustered.

leah's eyes roam your figure as her hand traces absentmindedly, as if she planning her next attack on your body. the blonde noticing the way your breath hitched when her fingers sit on your pulse point on your neck.

leah rotating her hand so her fingers lie gently against it awaiting your reaction as she smirks watching as you squeeze your eyes shut, as your hands grip against the rim of the sink.

a small chuckle leaves leah's lips as she leans down to press her lips to your neck sucking harshly on your sweet spot. a string of little whimpers leave your pretty little lips as you tilt your head more to the side allowing leah to have more access.

"le, please do something" you beg, feeling her hand roam underneath your hoodie, grazing across your breasts.

"don't be impatient baby girl" she rasps against your ear, tugging down on it with her teeth as you feel your self squeeze your thighs together. hoping it will help you relieve some tension between her legs.

leah finally lifting your hoodie over your head as she throws to the ground of the pub bathroom. usually you would have felt embarrassed as you would feel your whole body want to cower aways but with leah, it felt different. it felt good, it felt right.

-

it was a typical saturday night, leah had her home match at the emirates on the sunday so she was taking advantage of her the small out of rest time she had. a small hum of the tv playing in the background as you watched it, but really all your mind could focus on was the fact leah’s fingers were combing through the ends of your hair.

you were lying wrapped in leah's arms on her couch as the tv played, leah focused on some insta reel on her phone. you head tucked on her chest as it heaved up and down, the wholesome of the interaction. it felt like it was meant to be — it felt real.

"le?" you whispered your head turning to look up at the blonde as a small hum left her lips, her phone lowering a little.

"where do you see yourself in a year?" you asked, it was something that played on your mind a lot, cause would you still be in some casual relationship with leah or would you have your own apartment and she’d show you off to her friends as something more.

you were more hoping for the second option, since the months had passed since you both promised out of breathe that there wouldn’t be any strings attached.

and boy oh boy had that changed, especially since your favourite bra lived in her dresser. it was pretty hard to be casual.

“cause maybe we’d be more and going on cute little dates in a cafe before you’d go off to training” you began as you sat up, you rambling on as your hands flew around with some enthusiasm making you miss the way leah’s face changed.

“and then when you come home i’d be there waiting, your dinner on the table-“ you paused as you looked down to see leah’s face, puzzled but also her eyes they told you a different emotion, not the same energy you had but it was sadness — more a sense of guilt.

“i- sorry i got ahead of myself” you mumbled as your back sunk into the back of her couch, the further side from her.

leah shook her head, and you were half expecting her to wrap you in a hug and kiss your cheek and tell you it was okay and that maybe she felt the same way.

but she didn’t.

"y/n, remember, we're not together-" leah cut straight to the point, her tone blunt as you felt your heart drop and your brows furrowing and a quickly developing pout spreading across your lips.

you let out a shaky breath as you nodded slowly, you understood. she had kept her side of the promise of no strings attached. “i- just thought maybe?” you said so quietly it only came out as a whisper as you fidgeted with your fingers.

looking up to see leah’s face it told you everything you needed to know. you’d only known the blonde for a several amount of months but you knew her well enough to know what her face was telling you without actually having to say the actual words.

“oh i get it” you scoffed slightly, choking back on the tears which pricked at your eyes. all it ever was going to be was casual.

leah’s opened her mouth but nothing came out as she sat herself up on the couch but before she could even attempt to reach out to you, you were up from the couch. slipping your shoes on your feet. you didn’t want to be in the same room as her.

“y/n- don’t” leah finally managed to get out as she followed your actions following you into her hallway which was littered with her football memorabilia from her glittering career. but you shook your head, her voice to painful to hear as you stopped with your back to her just before the front door.

"do you know what's actually quite funny-" you paused to let out a little chuckle as you stood mere metres from the door, as you looked up from your shoes spinning slightly so you faced her. leah stood her shoulders sunken as she tried to plead with you not to leave.

"i actually thought i meant something to you- but i guess that's just how little i actually meant to you" you sighed as tried to steady your breath, tears prickling at your eyes ready to fall at any moment.

"i- i was ready-" you paused as your words got stuck in your throat, leah reaching out for you as you took a step back. "i was ready to give you my everything" you admitted it coming out just a little louder than a whisper.

"y/n-"

“no leah, you’d made it clear how you feel” you spat out as you spun on your heal, leaving leah calling out your name but your ignored her, reaching for the door and hearing how it clicked shut behind you.

part of you was hoping she was going to rip her front door open and call after you and not stop until you were back in the warmth of her arms but the corridor in her apartment block was silent.

the other part of you hated yourself how long you had let it drag out for, but now you were free. she can go to hell.

stumbling through the street as your tears fell down your cheeks, tapping away at your phone until you found the contact you wanted, the dial drilling through your ear a few times before it got to voicemail.

you sighed as you heard the beep, "i cut her off, amelie."

[astroboots]

Rainy Night Patrol

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Miguel comes home after a night of patrolling with a lot of pent up tension to find you sound asleep.

Content: Somnophilia, panty-tearing practises (in this fucking economy?!??! I know gurl) jerking off with panties kind of? overprotective Miguel is our favourite Miguel. Rough sex. Multiple orgasms and overstimulation (cause do I evern write anything else anymore?). Implied violence against random street criminals.

A/N: Pre-established relationship with pre-established consent for somnophilia.

Word Count: 4,800

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

Rainy nights in New York are the fucking worst.

It brings out the worst in people. Stressed-out bankers who will push old ladies out of their way to get to a seat on the subway. Drunken assholes who piss everywhere, making everything reek, and alleyway mugging seems to increase by a disproportionate amount whenever it's pouring.

It surprises Miguel that street robbery even happens outside of comic books anymore. Do these people not have a computer? Cybercrime is a thing. A successful phishing scam targeting a bank employee can net millions overnight.

Yet here Miguel is, headbutting this public nuisance for trying to rob and assault a sorority girl on her way home, fists eating into the man's face. Even though it is evident by now that there is no way the man has a fighting chance, he refuses to stop. He's hissing and spitting at Miguel, lunging at him with the ferociousness of a rabid racoon.

The easiest solution would be to bite and paralyze and call it a night. But from the reek of stale sweat and copious body Axe spray coming off of this asshole, Miguel has no desire to put any part of this man's body into his mouth.

So here Miguel is, putting this bargain-bin Sylvester Stallone wannabe in a headlock and slamming his head into a street lamp in an attempt to knock the man unconscious, instead of where he wants to be: home, in your questionably sized apartment and lumpy feeling bed.

Christ, he hates this city.

By the time it's all said and done, and everything is wrapped up, it's already past midnight. As he slinks in through the window sill into your bedroom, you're fast asleep.

You're lying on top of the quilts, the bedside lamp still on, which means you've been up waiting for him, even though you're supposed to have an early morning tomorrow. Something, something about how it's year-end and you have to present... something or the other.

It's... endearing that you still do that, try to wait up for him every night, even though you should know by now that more often than not, he'll be home much too late for you to still be awake.

Climbing inside the bedroom, the post-fight adrenaline is still surging through his veins. He's riled up, irritated. There's heat brandishing under his skin that is pushing at the edges begging for an outlet.

He glances in your direction. You look so soft in the dim bedroom light, half of your face buried into the pillow.

No, tonight is not the night. You need your sleep.

With a shake of his head, he walks over to his side of the bed, letting the Unstable Molecule fabric of his suit recede until he's left standing naked in the half-darkness of your bedroom.

Dragging away the sheet, he tucks it over you, you hum and shift in your sleep. Leg swinging Akimbo over to his side before he's even had the chance to lay down. The oversized sleep shirt does nothing to disguise the curves of your body, falling completely off one shoulder and riding up to reveal the tantalizing curve of your bare thigh.

Shit.

His mouth waters at the sight, cock half hard just from watching you. It's not helped by the adrenaline still buzzing in his head. It wouldn't take much to get him the rest of the way there.

Miguel groans and rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension growing between his temples. How exactly is he supposed to be getting any sleep with you lying next to him, all soft heat and sweet little hums that make him want to grind up against you like a cat in heat?

The weight in the bed shifts as you roll back away from him. A quiet snore issues from where you’re digging your face deeper into the pillow, clearly exhausted. 

Fuck, guess he's just going to have to try. It'd be cruel to wake you now.

He slides into bed next to you, settling for the comforting warmth of you next to him, as he curls one arm around your waist and wraps himself around you. Burying his face into the warm nape of your neck and taking a deep inhale. The smell of your shampoo and soap that pleasantly lingers on his skin, washes away the memories of the stench of rain-soaked streets of this city, the disgusting smell of sulphur and piss.

New York throws a lot of stuff in his way. Muggers, arsonists, would-be murderers. It's nothing he can't handle. And he can handle what it throws at you too. Whether it is torrential rain or some freak force of nature threatening to put you in harm's way, it doesn't matter. He keeps you safe.  And despite all the close calls, you're still here. Still alive. Still his.

His hand slides over the curve of your thigh at the thought, needing to feel your warmth underneath his fingertips. Goosebump prickles your skin at his caress, and he watches the way your back arches, pressing into his touch, even in your sleep.

A slow steady warmth blooms in his chest at your reaction. It's a heady blend of protectiveness but also pride. The universe itself can throw any tantrum it wants. He'll protect you from it all.

Your eyes stay shut, still clearly asleep, but your mouth parts with a needy hum, and Miguel gives you what you want, easing your body back into his arms. Like clockwork, you snuggle back against him, and the slight wiggle of your ass brushing against his front ensures there's no half about how hard is dick is anymore.

Needy heat rolls off his back in waves, and he slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and up along the softness of your stomach. If you were awake, you would be leaping away and smacking him for tickling you. But now the touch just makes you stretch and let out a contented little hum, your nipples already drawn up tight and hard for him by the time he reaches them.

Why are you so reactive when you're sound asleep? Part of him thinks you must be doing this on purpose; there's no way you can't be when he feels you shift again, the soft lace of your panties brushing up against his aching cock.  He palms your hip, following the edge of the lace down over the curve of your ass, then hesitates.

You only pull out the lacey panties when you really want to rile him up. Saving them for special occasions because (as you never fail to mention while scolding him whenever he's ripped another pair in the heat of the moment) 'fancy underwear isn't cheap!' One of these lacey thrilly little things easily would set you back at $80 a pop. Miguel isn't exactly hard pressed for cash, but he sees your point.

Still Miguel doesn't know what he is supposed to do when you keep pressing back against him the way you are at the moment. He grits his teeth, jaw muscles protesting as he grinds them together, knowing fully well he's fighting a losing battle. It’s really only a matter of time. Miguel isn't a fucking saint, and right now the need riding the length of his spine is burning hot enough to incinerate him.

Oh fuck it!

Hooking a finger around the hem of your panties, he eases them to the side, and his hips hitch forward, rubbing himself against you. Sharp pleasure skitters along his back, and he has to bite down the groan in his throat. He draws back, and does it again, letting his cock ride along the curve of your ass. Letting his aching, leaking cock settle between your cheeks, the delicate lace trapping him in place against you.

You’re definitely gonna bitch at him later for stretching out the elastic. But that's okay, you'll forgive him, the way you always do.

He holds there, gently rolling his hips, doesn't go too forceful or too eager with his thrusts, some half-formed intention to not wake you. Thighs shaking as he savors the contrast between your smooth skin and the textured lace. He tells himself that he should take it slow and not disrupt your sleep. But Miguel's never been a patient man.

His hands are already moving, reaching, before his brain has anything to say about it, fingers hitching your panties even further to the side, and fuck the elastic, he'll buy you a new pair. Shit, he'll buy you twenty new pairs. A whole fucking store of panties if that's what you want.

He pulls back, presses forwards again, cock sliding between those plush thighs, the head, slick with precome, gliding smoothly against you.

And fuuuuuck.

He drops his forehead against your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut to ground himself. He can feel how wet you are, drenching his cock as he skims the hard length over and through your slick folds. You're warm and inviting and oh so fucking tempting. You may still be fast asleep, but your body is telling him it’s oh so very ready for him.

God you feel so fucking good.

Angling his hips, he slides the sensitive head of his dick against your slick folds, notching himself against your entrance, gritting his teeth against the way your pretty pussy clenches at the threat of invasion. He holds himself there, breath hissing between his teeth as he teases you both, with tiny, incremental movements forward, in, and back.

Pleasure swirls through him, hot and heady, his ears buzzing with electricity. He's lost in it, but not so far gone that he misses the noises you're making, your reaction. Those little sounds of dissatisfaction, the way your back arches, pressing your hips back against him.  All of it telling him the same thing.

He presses his mouth to the corner of your shoulder. Has to hide the feral grin threatening to break out, because for all his vague intentions of letting you rest, part of him has been waiting for this. Part of him has been aiming for this exact outcome.

You. Awake. Fully ready to take him.

He presses forward again, just far enough that the head of his cock slips inside you, and is rewarded by your body clenching warm and wet around him.

Fuck, you feel too good. You always fucking do. It punches the breath right out of his lungs, needy heat singing through his veins and along every nerve ending in his body until he goes dizzy with it. There are advantages and disadvantages to enhanced senses, and right now, he's fully feeling both. Needs to get on with it, because he intends to have you coming on his cock at least twice before he's done.

Hooking an arm around your waist, he cups your mound. He stays there, pressing with his fingers and the heel of his palm, until he's rewarded by your hips hitching forward into the pressure, then rocking back again, causing you to sink down further onto him. A gasp and a small soft moan falls from between your lips.

He does it again, encouraging you to rock forward and then back again, taking him deeper each time. Inch by brain wracking inch, you take him in. He can feel your tight little pussy stretch around him, adjusting to his cock, as he presses your hips back and back and back until you're taking him all down to the root. Until he’s buried as deep as he can go.

Somehow it's not enough. Not when he's waited this long.

He centers three fingers over your clit through the lace of your panties, resting the heel of his hand just above your pubic bone, and then he presses down.

Your pussy clenches tight, and you jolt hard against him, gasping awake with a breathy 'oh' that does funny things to his brain. Makes rational thought skitter away from him, and when he hears his name on a long gorgeous drawn out moan everything inside him roars to attention.

"Miguel."

Satisfaction thrums under his skin. You’re awake, and he wants you awake for this. Wants you to know exactly who is about to fuck your brains out.

"That's right, nena," he croons, easing his hips back, and skimming his lips up from your shoulder to nip at your exposed neck, careful not to break the skin, relishing the sound of the perfect little gasp of yours. "I'm right here. You ready for my big cock, baby?"

"It– mmmmmm– It feels…" you mumble, voice still stumbling and sleepy.

He slams back into you just as you're trying to find your words, taking a bit too much pleasure in interrupting them when he hears you whine out a breathy, "Fuck, fuck!"

"What's that?" Miguel raises a hand to your chin, cradling it in his palm, tilting you back until he can press his lips to the edge of your jaw. "What does it feel like, tell me."

"Fee-feels like– ngh– like I'm already– taking your big cock." Your words are staggered, stuttered out each time he fucks his cock into you, and Miguel smiles.

"You are," he tell you, "You're taking me so well, nena."

It's a struggle for him to get the words out smoothly. He’s rolling his hips at a steady pace, fucking you in earnest now that you're awake to appreciate it. Every slick slide into your needy little pussy has pleasure burning sharp and insistent through his nervous system, overwhelming and inescapable.

He pauses, moving his hand away from your clit for a second, and grins when you whine and clutch at his arm.

"Patience," he scolds you "I've got you. I'm just gonna..."

He tucks his hand under your panties, and you stiffen against him, making a sound like an outraged cat. He knows exactly what you're going to say even before the words leave your lips, so he ignores you, sliding his fingers along the boundary where you're stretched so wide around the base of him, getting them nice and slick.

"You didn't take off my panties!? Miguel, these are my good wuh– oh fuck."

The words cut off when he locates your hard little clit, settling two fingers over it this time, one on each side, the way he knows always drives you crazy.

"What was that, nena?" he bites back a smile, "Something you wanted to say, huh?"

You suck in a breath, but he doesn't give you a chance to answer, fucking into you hard, and wastes no time resuming his former rhythm. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan.

"Sorry, baby," he teases, "I didn't quite catch that."

You don't answer. There's no way you're going to, not with the way your body is drawing up tight, gasping for breath as if he's driving every last ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

He knows your body as well as he knows his own, and he has you caught now, like spider with a fly in its web. He keeps holding you tight against him, hips angled to drive up against just the right spot inside you, the one that has you sobbing and clawing at him with every thrust, each one forcing you forward against the fingers he has bracketing your sensitive little clit.

No more words from that smart mouth of yours now, only gasps and whimpers and cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name.

You're clawing at his forearm, breath stuttering in and out of your lungs in staggered gulps. Your heart beating loud and fast and alive in your chest, and he can tell that you're close now. He can feel it in the way your tight little pussy clenches and quivers around him, clutching at his cock like it wants to hold him close, closer, closest.

"Mi– Mi– Mig–" The sound stutters out of you in time with his thrusts, high pitched and desperate—cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name, more whine than words. Pride swells in Miguel's chest at seeing you, hearing you like this, strung out and stuttering on his cock, begging him for your pleasure.

Pleasure that only he can give you.

"That's right, nena." He fucks into you hard. Can feel you clench around him relentlessly.

"I'm right here."

You're squeezing him so goddamned tight.

"Fucking you."

It takes everything in him to hold to the same angle, the same pace. To give you just what you need, the way only he can give it to you.

"Making you come," he bites out.

You writhe against him, whining louder now, sweet noises growing higher pitched.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, and you shudder against him, your voice rising into a wail.

Your hot little cunt clamps down tight, fluttering around him, and bright spots of pain bloom into pleasure as your fingernails dig into his arm, drawing blood. Your pretty eyes flutter shut as the whole of your body tenses under him.

Fuck, you're coming.

"That's– fuck– That's it," he grits out, slowing his thrusts, rocking against you gently to help draw out your orgasm. To buy himself a freaking second so you don’t take him over the edge with you. He keeps the soft rolling rhythm until the wracked shivers seizing your body settles. Counting down the seconds until the grip of your nails into his biceps is easing, and then…

"Again," he demands, snapping his hips forward, fucking into you hard, "Come for me again, nena."

Miguel locks his arm in place, holding you at the angle that will let him hit that perfect spot inside you every time, the one that makes your eyes roll back in your head, and he intends to have you seeing stars. He hears your breath leave you with a strangled noise, feels your pussy clench tight and perfect around his cock, and grins through gritted teeth.

If he times it juuuust right, he can send you over the edge a second time. He's done it before, forcing you into another orgasm before you've even come down from the first, and he’s not above using his enhanced reflexes to make you do it again.

And right now? The way you're writhing against him, hands and arms and pussy clutching at him, like you're trying to pull him closer—pull him in, despite the fact that he's already fucking you as deep as he can go. All of that tells him his timing was spot-fucking-on today.

It doesn't take long. It never does when he makes you come this way. And thank fuck for that, because the feel of you clenching around him is almost enough to take him over the edge with you. He has to grit his teeth as he slows to the gentle rocking rhythm you like best when you’re coming. His free hand fisting in the bed sheets, claws digging into them in a way he knows will earn him another scolding later. But R.I.P. your damn linens. Better them than him. You may have come twice, but Miguel's not ready to be done with you just yet.

This time, when you come down, he keeps things slow and gentle until you go loose and boneless. Forces himself to slows further until every muscle in your body melts under his grip. You sink down into the mattress with a little sigh, like you're ready to drift back off to sleep just like this, safe and snug in his arms, his hard cock still buried inside of you.

And if he wasn't so hard up, skin crawling with need and desperation, maybe he'd let you.

But that’s not happening tonight.

Unfortunately for you, Miguel's too hungry for you. Starving. Wants to lick and bite and swallow you down to the very marrow of your bones. 

He's been good. He's been patient. Has held himself back while he made you come. Twice. Satisfaction burns bright in his chest, almost as bright as his need for you. Two fucking times he's gritted his teeth, holding back his own orgasm by the skin of his fucking fangs as that pretty little pussy came around his cock, squeezing him so tight that for a second he was sure he'd black out and see god behind his eyelids.

Miguel is out of patience. 

Any intention to go easy on you because you need the rest is gone. Any consideration for your early morning tomorrow has flown the nest.

Hands on each side of your hips, he rolls the two of you, easily flipping you forward onto your stomach and drags you down along the bed. You stay limp and relaxed, as you let him move you like a ragdoll, positioning you the way he wants, head and chest resting against the matress, ass in the air.

Once he's got you where he wants you, he takes just a second to admire you, taking in the way those pretty lace panties highlight the curves of your ass but do nothing to conceal your slick center, pulled to the side as they are, leaving your pussy fully exposed, all pretty and puffy from how well he's fucked you and glistening in the low light.

You shiver under his heavy gaze, and he can see the way your pussy clenches, can see how wet you are, shining slick, halfway down your thighs.

Miguel must've taken too long with his one second. A soft inquisitive "hmmmmm?" emerges from where your head is buried in the pillow, and you rock your hips gently side to side.

His dick jerks at the obvious invitation. Precome oozes from the tip, and he takes himself in hand, lets himself stroke once to spread it along his length, as though he wasn't dripping with you already.

"What's that, nena?" he bites out. He's so fucking hard for you, cock aching from holding back, but even now, he can't help but tease and goad you. "You want more? You didn't get fucked good enough already? Does that pretty pussy want my cock?"

"Mmmmm.... yes," you say, one hand outstretched behind you, making a 'gimme' motion at him.

The gesture is ridiculous, but he can't help the way it makes his chest pull tight. You're always so ready to have him, no matter how much he tires you out. Suddenly, he can't wait another fucking second to be inside you again. 

He starts to line himself up, the wet heat of you just kissing the head of his dick when you tense up and make a sound of alarm. Fear stings his spine, and he freezes.

"You okay, nena?" he asks, pulling away from you, suddenly terrified that he's hurt you somehow.

Miguel has always been big—even before the "accident" that changed him—and he's bigger now, exponentially stronger.  He’d thought he was being careful, but fuck, it'd be all too easy for him to let his strength get away from him, to go harder than you can handle.

"Are you hurt? Was I- Was I too rough?"

Because he forgets sometimes. Forgets that others don't heal at an accelerated rate like he does. That your body isn't protected by enhanced endurance that lets him walk off falling from a building, barely feeling the six broken ribs and fractured arm that results.

It's why he needs to protect you. 

Always. 

Unlike him, you can be hurt. Can be broken, can be killed. And if he’s hurt you, then he–

You make a negative sound, shaking your head.

  "No, you big doofus," you mumble out into the pillow, and Miguel's heart slowly starts to ease its way out of his throat. "The panties. Take them off first. Don't want them to tear."

He stops, blinking in confusion as his eyes narrow down at you.

Your. Fucking. Panties!?

Really? His mouth curls down into a peeved frown. That's your fucking priority right now? After he's fucked you silly, made you come twice the way only he can?

"You want me to take your panties off, nena?" he demands, tone low and harsh, edging forward on the bed until he’s looming over you.

"Yes," you confirm. "They’re my last good pair." You’re nodding your head energetically in a way that tells him he hasn't done nearly as good of a job of tiring you as he thought. He’ll have to fix that.

With a snarl, he lances the crotch of your panties with a single claw, ripping them off your body.

"Miguel!" you squeak, clearly not expecting that, your voice pitched with disbelief, "Did you just–?"

"They were in the way," he manages to rasp out, lining himself up and pressing forward, unceremoniously shoving inside.

The tight, hot clench of your pretty pussy is blindingly good. It always fucking is. And just like always, Miguel is lost to it. He holds there, buried as deep in you as he can get, shuddering against you. He's damn lucky that extraordinary stamina comes bundled along with super-senses, or he'd probably come every damn time he slips inside you. It'd be all over at the first thrust.

Fuck, he has to move. He pulls out, and you gasp and claw at the sheets, shuddering under him as he starts to fuck you again. Obscene wet, squelching sounds fill the room, along with the echoing slap of flesh on flesh as he fills you over and over and over. You’re so fucking wet, so fucking perfect. He grits his teeth, trying to get a handle on the feeling, but it’s overwhelming. 

Your hot, perfect little pussy clenches and flexes around his dick, and a blissful burn sears against his spine, streaking white and hot with pleasure. A tell-tale sign, warning him of what's to come if he doesn't stop. He sucks in a breath, trying to stave it off, barely hanging on to his control by the tips of his claws because he wants to feel you come around him one more time.

Because twice isn’t enough. Three times won’t be either. Nor would four, five, ten. Miguel’s greedy for you. Selfish. No matter how much you give him, it will never be enough. He will always want more of you.

More of your soft body pressed up against every inch of his. More of your eyes looking back at him, glazed over as if you have no coherent thoughts left in that pretty head of yours. He wants all of that and more. Another orgasm. Another fuck. Another kiss. One more breath. Just more, more, more.

He curls his hand around your throat, feels the chaotic race of your pulse under his fingertips.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, "I need it. Need to feel you." 

He tilts your face up, your back arched like a bow towards him. So fragile. So trusting, that you let him do this to you. 

He dips down to claim your lips, snapping his hips into yours faster now. Ramping up the pace as he chases his inevitable climax, forcing you to yours. 

You whimper and keen with each thrust, eyes rolling wildly. Your mouth hangs open, panting out sweet, stuttered moans that he swallows in a bruising kiss. Your whole body tenses under him, going rigid, then your pretty pussy starts clenching down around him as you come again.

This time, Miguel can't hold himself back. Doesn't even try. Lets himself succumb to the sight, the sounds, the smell, the feel of you surrounding him, coming for him. His stomach draws in tight, toes curling into the sheets, as he can feel his balls drawing up, cock swelling further as he manages a last few ragged thrusts. Then he’s tumbling over the edge with you, burying himself as deep as he can as the unforgiving bliss rises and spreads, blotting out everything else.

It's endless. Pulses after devastating pulse that won't stop. He comes and comes and comes, emptying himself inside of you until he's lightheaded, barely able to hold himself.

No amount of supernatural stamina can help him in this moment. Not when he can feel his spend filling you to capacity and more, so full that it starts leaking out of you, down the line of your thighs and onto his. His strength gives out, and he collapses into the bed, bringing you down with him.

The two of you lay there, trying to catch your breath. You’re trapped under his weight, your small back heaving under his larger chest, sweat slicking your skin to his. He has no desire to move. Shifts slightly to the side, a concession to your need to breathe, but refuses to go farther than that. He wants to keep you right here, covered and cocooned by his body. 

You tilt your head until you can peek over your shoulder at him. There's a look in your eyes, one that he has only ever seen on you. One just for him, filled with exasperated fondness, heat and loving familiarity. One he wouldn’t give up for anything.

"You're getting me new panties."

A warm huff of laughter escapes him. The bright warm glow in his chest spreads outwards, filling him with contentment.

"Sure, nena."

"And coffee in the morning," you add.

He hums in agreement because that's fair. You're going to be in zombie mode otherwise.

"And cupcakes for breakfast," you finish triumphantly.

Miguel turns his head to observe you, the way you're trying to hide that satisfied grin into the pillow to not betray how fucking over the moon you are right now after he's fucked you silly.

Smartass. Always pushing your damn luck. But it's not like he's going to ever say no to you is it?

He puts on a show of sighing loudly with mock exasperation. "From Gladis, yeah?”.

You nod into your pillow.

"Mmhmm."

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, circling his arm around your waist, easily pulling you to his side.

The rain is still pouring down outside, but here in bed with your warm body pressed up against his side, the sound of it pitter-pattering against the window is almost soothing. He can feel his eyes slipping closed as it lulls him off to sleep. 

The rain isn’t so bad when you’re warm and safe in his arms. Nothing is, as long as you’re here with him. 

He’ll keep you safe. 

Always.

Credits and Dedications: I have to give so so so so much credit to my clown-in-crime @thirstworldproblemss poor woman doesn't even go here, and spent the whole of her evening writing porn to me in my DMs. 90% of the porny parts have been written by her. So for all those who enjoyed this, please go to her inbox and send her much deserved love!!!

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[wisteriaiswriting]

Hello! May I request for Sova, Iso, Gekko, Jett, cypher, and Reyna reacting to a reader who absolutely loves sour things? For example she eats lemons like oranges in a daily basis and eats super sour candy like it's nothing

𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕪 ℙ𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕪 𝕃𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕫𝕪

Words: 864

He’ll search around for any type of sour recipes, to either make them himself or find someone else if he has a lack of time.

Most of the time he’ll try the food, whether or not he actually likes them (I imagine him as a spicer type.) you’ll be able to have the majority.

He’ll search around for any type of sour recipes, to either make them himself or find someone else if he has a lack of time.

Most of the time he’ll try the food, whether or not he actually likes them (I imagine him as a spicer type.) you’ll be able to have the majority.

***

Hours ago he left, and the only answer you got when asked was ‘Market.’ It seemed he was planning something as he would normally tell you, and even ask if you would accompany him.

This time though you were left in the dark until he returned. Which luckily wasn’t too long ago, now you had to endure him removing you from the kitchen for who knows how long. First he leaves you then bans you from your own house? What was he up to?

Well luck seemed to be on your side today as he was quick to call for you. Returning to see a bunch of packets on the counter, a closer inspection only showed Russian writing on them. Even with the images you had no clue.

“Y/N, I believe you’ve been asking about my homelands candy?”

Oh…

Majority of the time he just… doesn’t notice the amount of sour stuff you eat.

The only items he notices are the wrappers, fruits and other foods, although he won’t question you about it.

***

Recently Iso had started noticing a few things. Such as candy wrappers, especially sour candy. The fruit bowls had more lemons and other citrus fruits then the normal ones, the pantry was similar.

It wasn’t weird though, he had his preferences and you had yours. It just seemed to be sour food. While he wouldn’t eat it much if you enjoyed it he wouldn’t complain.

He’s learnt to handle anything but sour growing up.

If you eat anything sour in his sight he will openly cringe, might say something as well.

***

Gekko was bored. Everyone else was either on a mission or just too busy to deal with him, except you. He found you in the kitchen, eating what he assumed were grapes, from a bowl.

“Mateo, what some?” You held your hand out, which held the fruits. Ones he took gracefully. The sweet flavour never showed, instead covered by immediate sourness. Causing him to spit them out.

“What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“Those!” He pointed at the mess.

“Oh, they’re Gooseberries.”

She's cooked and tasted more than her fair share of sour food, so she’s learnt how to handle it.

Is aware not many people can handle sour well, but that won’t stop her from teasing anyone.

***

It was Jett’s turn to make dinner, and this time she made Tungsuyuk. She’s grown so used to cooking for the both of you she honestly forgot how others couldn’t handle the sourness of it.

But she also made yours special, able to give you a larger portion. Even then the others couldn’t handle it.

“Jett! What did you put in this?”

“C’mon Neon, I thought you could handle this?” Turns out she couldn’t, watching the group either give up or drink more water.

Due to his connections and access, if there's something you want he’ll be able to get it, the only problem is if he will.

He is kinda a picky eater, also much prefers spice over sour. So he won’t try many, only a select few me might enjoy.

***

The mission brief had just finished, and unluckily for you Cypher managed to scurry off from you. So until he came back around you’d have to either entertain yourself or find someone, but it seems he thought of that already.

As a decently sized box sat on your bed, seemingly just delivered as all the agents were in the meeting. And on top sat a note.

‘My Dear,

Hopefully these are to your liking, I’ll be waiting for your answer.

Love, Amir.’

And you guessed it, the box was full of sour Moroccan snacks and foods. Knowing he’ll be ready to order them and more.

This woman is not fazed, as she’s seen worse things. But will look at you like you asked the dumbest question ever if she sees you eating a lemon, at all.

From her experience souls taste… different to say. And a good few are weirdly sour, so she isn’t too put off by their flavour and sensation.

***

The day was just another, this one neither you or Reyna were to be sent on missions. So you spent it hanging around with others, while she was training. When she finally finished she started walking back to her room, passing you and Gekko in the living area.

A quick glance had her brain assuming you held an orange, nothing out of the ordinary. Until Gekko spoke up.

“Ew dude, why would you- stay away!”

At first she was alarmed until she remembered who you two were. Slowly stepping back to see you holding out the orange- wait no, that's not an orange. You were holding a lemon, one that currently had a bite mark.

At the realization she could only stare at you, turning into a glare when you made eye contact.

“Want some?”

[sunnie-writes]

cupid's chokehold.

pairing: jax x cupid!gn!reader

tags & tropes: fluff, shameless flirting, fell first/fell harder

summary: you were absolutely confused because of two things: one, you got transported to a random dimension and became a totally different person, gaining the title of a cupid, and two, you had fallen in love at first sight with the most sarcastic purple rabbit man ever. well, at least you didn't felt like complaining on the second part.

tell me, sunnie!!: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA... anyways, hiiiii:3 i got a new fandom added to my brain, injected it into my veins and now i am addicted. so, this funky little guy didn't actually catch my attention at first but then i watched some edits and was like "HMMMMMM i mean yeah sure" and then i decided to check tumblr, stumbled on a fic of him and went "OH. OH." yk?? anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this bc i wrote it instead of sleeping and i have to wake up early tomorrow el oh el!!1!1!1!1

warnings?: kissing, suggestive(?) i mean it's just neck biting but idk........

first of all, you don't know how the hell you are... here, nor why you've been stuck in this place for two weeks already.

it's a colorful world, saturated to the maximum amount possible. you know, the type to burn your eyes if you stare at a specific spot for too long. it also looked like some kind of fever dream, with all the toys scattered and the way different people? characters? looked like.

not like you can say much, you have heart shaped pupils and you're wearing something that looks like an ancient greece tunic. also, sandals. you have these big feathered white wings that are a pinkish hue at the tip of every single feather. you tried pulling one out to see if it was actually real, resulting in a yelp from your mouth. it kinda hurts.

and that reaction caused a chuckle to come from someone who has your eyes dedicated to just admiring them.

frankly speaking, if you went back and told your past self that by putting those weird vr headset glasses on you would be signing up to falling for a tall and lanky purple rabbit with a yellow smile, you would probably just chuckle and still do it, but with even more determination than before. eh, what can you say? you've always been attracted to the weirdest characters anyways.

but this... this was real, he was real and he was talking to other real weird animated people. ragatha rambled next to you about... honestly, you didn't even know, too busy watching from afar a certain rabbit. this was the start to possibly one of your most frustrating crushes ever.

"[name]? are you okay? you seem more distracted today?" she worriedly asked, putting her hand on your shoulder, "you shouldn't think too much about trying to find an exit if that's what you're thinking about, you might get abs-"

"huh? no, i wasn't thinking about that!" you quickly hurried to give an explanation, trying to dismiss that idea from her, but your eyes darted again to the overall wearing guy and she followed your gaze.

she slowly moved her head back at you after seeing what you were so... distracted about. a smirk broke in her face.

"oooh, little [nickname] has a cruuush?" ragatha teased you.

"wha- no- that's not-" before you could continue, your flushed cheeks got even more red as you saw him approaching. you immediately shut your mouth and just looked at the floor, trying to quickly hide your face

"sup', what are you two gossiping about today?" jax spoke in a mocking, sultry tone that had melting down a drain... not literally though.

"oh, nothing. you know, just the usual!" ragatha quickly tried to hide that topic from him, trying to distract or something. play it cool!

"uh-huh, and why is little cupid over here heating up like a preheated oven?" you almost choked on spit before looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and slightly flushed cheeks.

"none of your business, jax, don't bring your teasing and mocking over to [name]!"

"aww, why not?" jax dropped his hand on your shoulder, "say, little cupid, i heard doll face over here mentioning a crush, who do ya' have the hots for?"

your mind instantly went to answer "you" internally z meanwhile, your lips just answered in an almost quiet sound.

"i'm not telling you."

"huh, and why is that?" he leaned in close, and suddenly you felt absurdly claustrophobic.

he looks so... absurdly attractive with that smirk. you wish you could wipe it off of his face.

"because..." it doesn't take too long to come up with an excuse, you're an overthinker who is always prepared for this kind of situation, "you would mock me for it, and i don't feel like getting bullied by a purple beanpole."

"gasp, you wound me with your hateful words!" he dramatically posed, meanwhile ragatha chuckled in the background. "how can a cupid, made of pure love, be this mean?"

you just lightly punched him in the arm at that.

---

night time seemed like a blur to you in this world. sleep? never heard of that.

it's been a month already and your crush hasn't faltered. instead, it got bigger each day, but to be fair, it was impossible for it to not grow. jax decided that, for some reason, he liked teasing you a bit too much since he found out you might have a crush on someone.

playful flirting seemed to be his favorite to use on you, since you just tried your best to not show how it actually affected you. honestly, you felt like some kind of cliche teenager movie where you're about to write his name on a notebook with hearts all around it.

and that felt too cheesy, even for a cupid.

---

oh my stars, he wishes it's him.

you know, at first when you arrived at the digital circus, jax paid no mind to you. i mean, yeah, you were probably the cutest person in this digital purgatory, but he didn't think that he could fall for anyone in here, this isn't some weird sitcom episode. but it was starting to get difficult to not let him lose himself in a romantic trance when you were around.

he wonders if you used anything on him that could've possibly made him slowly fall for you, hard.

in the second week, he began noticing things about you. for example, you laughed at his jokes and sarcastic personality, got irritated for his pranks but never screamed at him, just shrugging it off like normally, you didn't even care when he stole something from your room.

it was mind breaking to just try and see what could get a reaction out of you towards him. until it was revealed that you had a crush on someone in that place.

jax isn't dumb, he already caught you looking at him from afar just to fastly change your gaze and get flustered, how your hands trembled when you were near him, heart eyes expanding when he talked to you. so, just to test if his theory was real, he decided to leave a subtle flirt for you. and that was checkmate.

he thought at first that it was weird, that maybe he could just play with you a little bit and entertain your little crush on him. but then, the spell turned against him. you flirted back once, and that made him feel awfully fuzzy minded. now, he was the one staring at you from afar sometimes.

that wasn't in his plans, falling for you even harder than you fell for him wasn't supposed to happen. yet, it did anyway.

and now the realization dawned on him that, at some point, he's going to have to either confess or simply hide that for forever, since that's the time they're gonna be stuck in the same dimension together. how fun, isn't it?

---

your feet took you outside of the tent, as everybody was now sleeping comfortably in their own rooms. well, at least you thought they were. stepping onto the grass and breathing in some fresh air, you looked up, waved at the sun and the moon, who smiled back at you contently. then you finally sat down and layed on the saturated green ground, looking up at the fake stars.

you sighed heavily, trying to distract your worried mind that screamed about wanting to get out and at the same time never wanting to leave. it was downright confusing, and left you with pent up energy that made your brain go 100/mph.

you heard footsteps behind you, looking up just to meet with a yellow smile and cartoonish eyes. you immediately gulped as his smirk grew.

"heyyy little cupid, what are you doing here so late?" he questioned you with a lower tone of voice before sitting down by your side. you immediately sat up too.

"just... thinking about some stuff." not losing any chance, you tried to start a conversation. "what about you?"

"meh, just bored and couldn't sleep." jax then looked at you in the eyes. "what could you possibly be thinking about?"

"ah, you know... just the usual!" you tried to quickly change topics, you didn't feel like traumadumping on anyone today nor did you feel like telling him that he's the reason you didn't abstract yet.

"and, does the usual involve your secret little crush?"

your breathe hitches, "why are you so curious about who i like?"

"i just am, it's interesting to see your reactions when i mention them." he leaned down, holding his head with his hand as he still stared at you. "why don't you tell me who it is? i'm starting to get the wrong idea that it's me since you refuse to speak about the mystery person to me."

you think you just felt your heart stop. your eyes go wide and you can feel the heat coursing through your body, blood rushing and flushing your cheeks. you know what? okay then, since there is no escape from this situation, might as well finish the night with a bang before you leave to sleep.

"that's... not the wrong idea at all." you confessed, watching as his eyes went wide in a millisecond.

"what." he spoke before sitting up and grabbing your shoulders. "you're not fucking with me, are ya?"

you shook your head while embarrassingly looking to the floor, feeling frustration pooling in your head.

"no, i'm not. i like you jax, i like your stupid pranks, your stupid jokes, your mischievous smile, your ey-" you were cut off by lips meeting with yours.

as your current situation settled in your mind, you got yourself comfortable and closes your eyes, lacing your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer before you two fell back again, you under him. your stomach was doing backflips, breaking down at the feeling of being reciprocated.

when you finally broke apart, your heart eyes were absurdly big, staring at him while you panted for air. he chuckled at your face, giving a big smile while himself was actually melting at finally having you in his arms. jax laid his head on between your neck and your shoulder. you petted his head, until you felt something.

he was biting your neck, leaving love bites and hickeys behind.

first of all, you didn't even knew if he could open his mouth, but apparently he could (?). you couldn't think much of it, too busy holding back an embarrassing whimper. you held his head and tried not to close your legs around his waist as he continued to bite.

he pulled back, looking at you with a smirk and raised eyebrows.

"well, look what a mess i've done, darlin'. how do ya' feel?"

you couldn't even answer, feeling absolutely overwhelmed by his hand on your waist, the knee resting between your legs and your mind slowly losing it's control. instead of an answer, you just pulled him down for another kiss.

yeah, you probably were enjoying that, but jax? ha! in his mind, he was melting down a drain, patting himself in the back for the idea of deciding to take a night walk and accidentally seeing you. he grinned into the french kiss, feeling absurdly high at the moment.

he wasn't sure how everyone would react to you finally being his, not that he cared about their opinion, but he thinks if would be funny to see their faces. he can't wait for it to happen, but now it's not time to think about that.

it's time for him to think on how to calm his rapidly beating heart that might give you the hint that he loves you way more than you love him.

tell me, sunnie!!: AAAAA i finished writing this only the next day, sorry if it's too short btw!! i know it missed a lot and should have more things but it was rlly rushed bc i want to write more of him <\33 but yeah, thank you for reading sunshine!!

[phsychobanana]

Denial is a river in..... Kyoshi Island?

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

WC: 1.1k

Summary: No chance, no way, she won't say it, no no!

A/n~ Totally WASn't listening to I Won't Say I'm In Love while writing this 🤭

The air was thick with panic as the ash falls from the sky in flutters around the island. People trying to seek shelter while their homes were being burned right before their very eyes. The Kyoshi warriors trying their best to protect their people in the midst of the panic, while the gaang tries to come up with a plan to stop everything.

I grab Zuko's arm and look up at him, worried. When Iroh tried to stop him on the ship, he didn't listen to him. Which meant it was now my turn to try. Or, that's what Iroh said, at least. And Iroh's only sometimes wrong.

"Zu," I pause for a moment to make sure he looks at me while i speak, "we should go. You're destroying these people's homes. How is this any different than your father?"

Whoops, definitely not what you say to someone with daddy issues and anger problems...

"You're right," Zuko nods.

Excuse me?

"Excuse me?" *My brows shoot up in surprise.

"We should go back to the ship. We'll have other opportunities to capture the avatar. This can just be a warning of what'll happen if he doesn't comply. Let's get you to safety," Zuko speaks in an even tone, ushering me back to the ship as he does so.

I've never been more confused in my life, but if he's willing to listen, who am i to complain?

Zuko is practically sprinting with me, trying to get to the ship as fast as possible for some reason. But again, not complaining.

"Uncle, we're going," Zuko nods at Iroh, his tone stern.

"Ah, i knew you'd agree with her. Alright, let's retreat," I raise a brow at the older man's words, but don't say anything.

The horn blows, calling Zuko's troops back to the ship, to which they all come running back. Talk about effective.

And just as soon as we were there, we were out.

Zuko leaves, presumably to go brood in his chambers, leaving me to play Pai Sho with Iroh all alone.

"So, did you two finally confess?" Iroh asks randomly, causing me to choke on my spit.

"H-Huh?" I manage out through my coughs.

"Y/n, i had you talk to him for a reason."

"Which is..?"

"You're not just his best friend, you know. He cares about you much more than you know."

"Yeah, that's what friendship's about."

"No. Beyond friendship. Beyond the relationship you both have now. You are meant to be. Twin flames."

I raise an unimpressed brow. "Right. How much tea have you had to drink?"

"You're in love. Even if you don't know it yet."

Stupid Iroh and his stupidly true words. NO. I'm not in love. Never. That's gross. Especially not in love with Zuko. He's like...emo.

"Sure... Let's just keep playing, alright?" I look back down, only to find that he's beaten me.

"Good game, Y/n." Iroh smiles cheekily. Damn old man...

***

No matter how long ago it was, i never forgot that conversation with Iroh. Zuko and i had swapped sides, found his destiny, stopped his father, everything. We'd done it all. Together. And as much as i hate to say it, i enjoyed being with him so closely.

Suki had invited the gaang back to Kyoshi island for a nice getaway/vacation, since everyone had gotten so busy and stressed out due to existing. With Aang being peace to the world, and everyone trying to come back together as a whole, we've all been busy. Especially Zuko and i, trying to get rid of the brainwash wrapped around the Ozai defenders.

So, here we were. Sitting on the sand, chatting, drinks in hand, and all the couples being way too touchy for my liking. Aang was making flower crowns with Katara, and Suki and Sokka were just making out. And considering they were doing that the entire way here, i'd say my poor eyes need an insane amount of disinfectant.

At least Zuko, Toph and i were able to hang out without third wheeling anything.

Zuko left to go use the bathroom, leaving Toph and i to talk.

"So, when are you going to grow the balls to confess your feelings?" Toph asks as she draws in the sand. Granted, the drawings weren't good, but hey, she was trying.

"What do you mean?" I ask, playing stupid. Did everyone just know? Did that mean he knew, too? Oh, spirits...

"You know what i mean. Don't worry about him not liking you. He likes you so much, it's getting disgusting."

I chuckle at that, and glance over at Zuko, who's now walking back.

"I don't like him." I say, though my stuttered breaths, rapidly beating heart, and lovesick eyes say otherwise.

"Right. And i can see." Tops retorts with a scoff, making me push her face first into the sand.

"Seriously, Toph. Back off." I huff.

"I'm just sayin'. Denial's a river... and you're drownin' in it." Tops shrugs, and spits out a mouthful of sand. "You may deny it, but truth is, you're falling for him. Hard. So just tell him."

"Tell who what?" Zuko asks as he takes his seat beside me once more.

No chance, no way, i won't say it, no no...

"Hey, you. Don't worry about it. Heh..." I punch Zuko's shoulder lightly.

"Uhm...hi?" He rubs his shoulder, a clearly confused look on his face.

Spirits, he's cute when he's confused. And when he's mad. And happy. He's just always cute. And handsome. And hot. Pun very much intended!

Get a grip, girl!

I clear my throat awkwardly, and turn away from him. I glance at Toph, and can practically feel her urging me to confess.

I glare at her. I look over at Zuko with a smile, trying to act normal. My heart immediately skips in my chest at the sight of him.

No way, no how, i won't say it...

Zuko look over at me and smiles back, and i swear that time freezes around me.

No chance, nuh uh, i won't say it...

"You've got sand in your hair..." His voice is quiet, and soft, and flustered, and woah.... He reaches out to gently pick the bits of sand from my hair.

Get out my face, i won't say it...

"Thanks." I swallow, and look away.

Zuko ruffles my hair affectionately and leans down, so close that i can feel his breath fan over my face. Way closer than friends should be.

Get off my case, i won't say it...

"So..." He trails off.

"So..." I repeat.

At least out loud, i won't say i'm...in love...

[aurumacadicus]

You guys remember that Demon!Steve and Angel!Tony thing I posted? How about some backstory. Also I have a secret backstory for angel pronouns but I feel like I'm gonna be smote if I say them so. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ There's a reason Steve uses it/its for Tony until told otherwise.

Also TW: lots of religious imagery.

--

The church was empty.

Steve blinked up at it slowly. The church hadn't been empty for... he didn't know how long. It had been his. He had... lived there? He'd... attended, he was certain. And he had... he had died there.

He was born there. It had never been empty in his memory. He had many years of memory, of hours of people sitting-standing-kneeling-weeping-praying. He noted the broken shards of glass where there used to be windows. The colors had once danced across the ground at his feet from the amount of candles inside. The large doors were broken, one hanging off its hinges while the other was lying on the stone steps. He wondered at what could have done this. The doors were heavy. It had taken two people to open and close just one of them.

Then he noticed an ethereal glow coming from inside. The church had always been lit by candles. He was no longer cautious like he had been as a child, coughing and coughing and gasping and coughing. He stepped inside.

Steve had seen angels before. Small things, with wingspans like birds. White-feathered, glowing silvery in the dark. Young. He'd enjoyed scaring them off, spitting fire and venom at them.

This angel could destroy him before he even turned to leave, he realized, the coal that had become his heart dropping to his stomach. Old, older than any he had seen, even the ones he saw walking with the much older demons back in the halls of Hell, discussing things he could never understand. And powerful, more powerful than the angels he saw come down and sing 'be not afraid.' This angel glowed the gold of the first angels, ones who twisted the stars into shape.

As Steve watched, the angel turned, face twisted into a cold mask of fury, eyes still glowing a faint blue. It was too late to run. He would be smote. But there was something... wondrous about it, he thought, eyes wide, trying to take everything in before the nothing he'd surely be wrought into. This church had been damned long before now. Steve hadn't even felt a tingle at his toes from any consecration. It had been desacralized long before he'd died on the altar. The angels he'd seen were only as powerful as the ground was holy. This angel hadn't been stopped by the fact that there was nothing holy here.

"An avenger," Steve whispered as the angel faced him, spread its wings wide and high, the span wide enough that its wings were forced to curl back in against the walls. It glared at him, but he only felt an odd sense of... calm. If he died at the hands of an angel who could wipe out a sinful church full of people with black hearts in an effort to cleanse its stain on the earth, he figured yeah, he could be at peace with that.

Steve felt cool hands cupping his cheeks, tipping his head back and forth. He heard excited babbling, frantic and dismayed, but he couldn't understand the words. He didn't... feel dead. His head was fucking throbbing, though, and he groaned, loudly, to try and get whoever was on top of him to stop moving it.

The voice said something, relief practically dripping from it, and Steve forced his eyes open, blinking against the pulse of pain it caused.

The angel was on top of him. As he focused on its face, he saw it smile, relieved like he'd expected, but also self-deprecating, in a way. "There you are," it said, hands cradling his face again. "I misjudged how strong you were. I'm sorry."

"...you think I was weaker?" Steve asked faintly, feeling a thrum of angry heat in his chest.

"I thought you were stronger. Older," it corrected thoughtfully. "I thought you could withstand the blast. I needed to get you out quickly. Another moment, and the holiness sweeping back through the church would have smote you instantly. Consecration is almost instantaneous when an angel is behind it."

"...you..." Steve blinked. "Saved me?"

The angel dipped its head, eyelashes sweeping down against its cheeks. "You weren't the one poisoning this place. I wasn't sent to smite you."

Steve blinked again. He didn't know what to say. He sort of didn't believe he actually still existed. He lifted his hands to put them over the angel's.

"Oh," the angel breathed, eyes flying open wide. It looked just as full of wonder as Steve had felt, seeing its power. "I didn't know demons were so warm."

It had forgotten, Steve realized. It didn't remember a demon's touch. He was suddenly filled with confidence he probably shouldn't have had. He chalked it up to the angel apparently caring about his existence enough to get him to safety instead of being smote as an unfortunate bystander. He lifted a hand to cup the angel's cheek instead, and the angel shuddered, breath puffing out against his wrist cool and fresh from its parted lips as it looked at him with half-lidded eyes.

"You can make it up to me," Steve told it. "Once my head stops throbbing."

The angel blinked at him, a slow up-and-down of the most beautiful lashes, Steve thought. "...How would you like me to make it up to you, imp?" it asked.

If it had been anyone--anything--else, Steve would be offended. But. He knew the angel was powerful. Old. He probably did look like a young imp to it. Steve licked his lips, allowing the angel to see a hint of just how long his tongue was, and the angel let out a startled giggle that sounded like church bells, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"I see why the word 'impudent' starts with 'imp,'" the angel answered coyly.

Steve didn't allow it to demure, instead rolling on top of it and wedging the angel's thighs open with his knees, even as his vision swam and his head throbbed. Its white robes fell around it in a way that Steve could only describe as indecent, and he thought it was only because this was an angel who could easily snap him in half, but it was allowing him the position of being on top of it. "Call me Steve," he offered. He didn't want to be called imp, to be reminded of their stations. He didn't think he could follow through if he kept being called that.

The angel hummed, thoughtful, then arched its back a little with a pleased hum. "I'll call you that," it decided, spreading its wings out over its head. "Older, stronger demons have run away with their tails between their legs. You deserve the respect, I think."

"Thanks," Steve couldn't help but deadpan.

The angel offered him a cheeky smile. "You can call me Tony, Steve."

"Tony," Steve repeated quietly, rolling it around in his mouth. "I like that. Yeah, I wouldn't mind panting that in your ear."

"Panting that in my ear?" Tony repeated, brows furrowing together, before its eyes went wide and Steve had the distinct joy of watching one of the most powerful angels alive blush from its face down to its chest, the redness visible through the thin cotton of its robes. "Oh!"

"Oh," Steve agreed, reaching up to grab Tony's wrists and pin them next to its head. The angel let him, and it stoked the heat in him higher, the pulsing pain behind his eyes now an annoyance he pushed aside rather than a debilitation. Belatedly, he figured he should ask, "You're not gonna smite me for this or anything, are you?"

"Far be it from me to smite you for your innate demonic urges," Tony drawled, smirking, and twitched its hand back and forth just to show him how easy it would be to break free of his grip. It batted its eyes at him. "I like a male form, but I can switch to a female one if you like. To make it up to you."

"This is just fine," Steve promised, and then added a careful, questioning, "Sir?"

"You don't have to call me sir, beloved," Tony purred, wings fluttering against the ground. "Just because I'm old, it doesn't mean I adhere to the social hierarchy." Then it blinked, surprised, before letting out another bell-toll giggle and added, "I don't hold to any of those pronoun conventions either. Call me as you see me."

"I'll call you mine," Steve offered, and Tony threw his head back, laughing with delight. Steve didn't know how to tell him he wasn't being cheeky. He suddenly and irrevocably wanted nothing but the angel beneath him.

He pushed it aside. Meeting angels as powerful as Tony was were a once-in-a-lifetime event, especially among demons as young as he. Instead, he leaned down, pressed his mouth to Tony's, shivering as the angel gasped cool and wet against it. He wondered if Tony's shiver was because of how hot he felt. Hoped it was.

The cry Tony let out as Steve ripped his robes from the top down to the bottom sounded like ecstasy already, and Steve wasted no time pressing against him from shoulder to hip just to hear Tony moan and flap his wings uselessly.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

How about the Fallout 4 robots meeting the robots from New Vegas?? owo

Fallout 4 Robots Meeting New Vegas Robots

➼ Word Count » 1.6k ➼ Warnings » Slightly suggestive (fisto) ➼ Genre » Platonic ➼ A/N » This takes place in the Mojave cause it'd be hard for a lot of the bots from nv to move across the country

Codsworth finds Victor to be quite the character. The moment he saw him and the amount of dust he tracked behind him, he immediately decided that he should step in and help clean him off. If it left any impression on the butler, then it was that RobCo didn't have the same prestige as General Atomics had.

Victor didn't care as much as Codsworth did about the mud and grime that clung to him, but he didn't stop him from wiping his screen down.

When Codsworth happened to meet Mr. House himself, he made sure to snarkily bring up how his company seems to be 'letting itself go'. Mr. House mostly just ignored him, assuming that that was just how he was programmed to be, but he's definitely not allowed in the Lucky 38 anymore out of fear that he'll find it dirty.

Another thing that gets Codsworth itching to grab a bottle of Windex is when he's introduced to Rex. The poor mutt! Not only is he covered in sand, but that awful paint job on his side! Dear God, if he doesn't get the poor dog washed off instantly he fears he might break down!

However, after he's done scrubbing him down, he decides he finds Rex to be quite the creature and would gift him one of the Jangles plushies that Sole doesn't stop flooding his inventory with. He'll certainly find it more endearing than he does.

If there's anyone Codsworth feels understands him most, it's Yes Man. At least he's inclined to sweep every now and then. The two actually get along quite well with how sarcastic and passive-aggressive they can come across as, as well as they're desire to be helpful in any way possible.

Codsworth thinks he's an absolute hoot and couldn't think of a better way to spend his afternoon than gossiping with the optimistic bot.

Curie drops everything when she spots Rex off in the distance. What a scientific marvel he is! She's never seen anything like him before and will take plenty of notes to see if she can't upgrade Dogmeat in the same way when she gets back home.

Rex also happens to be really fond of Curie (mainly because she gives him attention) because of how much better she makes him feel. Who knew he had so many broken parts? And without even realizing it? It's a good thing she came along when she did!

In fact, there are a lot of people who are fond of Curie. One of the main ones being Muggy. Her kind and gentle aura is something he never realized he was missing in his day-to-day life and he will beg her on bended knee to take him with her. He can't stand being with the Think Tank any longer! Please!

The Think Tank couldn't care less if Muggy went with her or not, they just want her out.

They can't stand how naive Curie is. She's clueless! And impossible to talk to! Not to mention how eager she is to put her grimy, wastelander hands on everything.

So, Curie leaves the wonders of Big MT with her strange, new friend to finally go and visit the place she came here for in the first place - Vegas. But she very quickly loses sight of the extravagant place around her when she meets Yes Man.

The two couldn't possibly be more of a perfect match and, although Curie can't ever pick up on Yes Man's sarcasm, and Yes Man can't do anything else but shrug at the scientific terms Curie spits out, they still seem to agree on most things.

They're both so kind to one another and have that same sort of curiosity about a world they've been sheltered from for so long, that they hardly leave each other's sides.

Nick feels a tinge of guilt when he sees Rex running toward him. Even though he's never lived it, he has memories of opening up the morning paper and reading about the reconstruction happening on the West Coast police dogs to make them look how he does. At least he seems happy though, right? Can't be mad at that. He'll scratch him on the head and smile a bit when Rex sits and tilts his head in recognition of his occupation as a detective, and he finds his instinct admirable when it comes to spotting danger, but there's something about the dog that makes him feel a bit off.

On the other hand, Nick can't get enough of Victor. The two will go out and shoot cans all day before returning to some saloon or bar and sharing stories from their time spent out in the wasteland. They're like brothers, just born from opposite sides of the country.

At some point, Nick had found himself tied up in another case while in Freeside and it led him right to where Fisto was stashed. He couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle and a sigh when the bot started offering his 'services', and Nick left as quickly as he arrived, deciding that he didn't want to be involved.

One thing he did get involved in, however, was the little Securitron Curie brought back from outta nowhere. How could he hate a robot who found some kind of... joy? when he cleaned mugs? Muggy warmed up fast to the caffeine-addict human Nick must've once been, as his synth counterpart can't help but down a few cups every morning, despite not ever feeling tired.

X6-88 finds Mr. House to be quite the spectacle. He actually really likes him and wishes to bring his ideas and plans back to the Insitute to try and do those same tactics on the Commonwealth.

Since Mr. House had gone to CIT before the war, X6-88 considers him to be a founder of sorts and has much respect for him and the work he's done in the Mojave.

On the other hand, he finds Victor's happy-go-lucky attitude to be annoying. Even if he were invented by House himself, he can't help but sigh whenever he hears him rolling over to him. He talks way too much and remembers way too little for him to be considered as anything but an inconvenience. He tries to avoid him at all costs if he can help it.

One Securitron that X6 does seem to like, however, is Yes Man. Although he's disappointed that he wasn't what House had originally intended him to be and was made from some dirty wastelander instead, he still finds his attitude and overall composure to be incredibly helpful. If only he were in more... responsible hands, then he could really be doing great things in terms of rebuilding the Mojave.

Yes Man almost envies how pessimistic and emotionless X6 comes off as. A part of him wishes he could express emotions on that side of the spectrum as well, but he supposes he's much more likable with a positive outlook instead.

However, if there's any part of the Mojave that X6-88 thinks could be useful for the Institute, it's all the tech stashed away in Big MT. He's not particularly fond of the Think Tank at all, and could only probably take a few hours of them bickering, but all the information they have with them is enough of a reason for X6-88 to want to kidnap them and bring them back to the Commonwealth to interview them further.

They, of course, make it impossible for him to successfully take them with him since they're all too paranoid to properly be teleported back and he quickly decides to just give up and go back to the Lucky 38.

DiMA likes to debate and challenge Mr. House on his political ideals and, as much as he loves the exercise, he's not fond of how accusatory DiMA can get. Not to mention how easily he seems to get people to rally behind him, so he gets locked out of the Lucky 38 pretty quickly if not Vegas entirely.

DiMA doesn't mind though, he wasn't a big fan of the flashy lights and large crowds anyway. Besides, Freeside is full of such interesting people, that he can't help but prefer it over the city. One of those people being Fisto.

When Nick approached him later one day and told him about his encounter in one of the back alleys, DiMA found himself... concerned, to say the least. And slightly curious.

What kind of robot must one be to be active in such a way? It's strange in any manner, and he was quite intrigued to meet him. However, he was disappointed when he found out he was a Protectron that had only automated messages. How disappointing...

Vegas was fun and all, but DiMA quickly found that he was being called for elsewhere... as he was messing around with one of the radios, he got ahold of the Mysterious Broadcast and disappeared to Big MT.

The scientists, like the other two who visited, were not happy. Especially since DiMA knows what he's doing when it comes to technology.

When he starts messing with Dr. 0's robots and reading through all sorts of Klein's legal documents they decide to ban him from their corner of the Mojave. They may even shut their satellite down altogether because?? they've got the worst types of people entering their lab.

He's honestly going to be the reason everyone has to leave back to the commonwealth. No one wants blud around.

[genericpuff]

the last few episodes of persephone moping around have felt like less of a self-reflective moment for her to grow and change and more rachel griping about criticism and surrounding herself with yes men

this isn't gonna be in any way a formal essay like my usual sort, more of a slam post honestly, so fair warning that i'm gonna be a little salty here

EPISODE 263 SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!

but seriously, it's been a pity party of greek proportions because this constant "woe is me" shit with persephone that's constantly met with "no queeen you're amazing and perfect" has been going on for DAYS (real time and comic time)

literally every episode since the comic returned has had some segment of either persephone or hades (or both) being upsetti spaghetti over their current situation because oh nooo persephone made the deal with erebus and had to sacrifice something. even though they both knew that was gonna happen and yet she did it anyways. so she just continues to lock herself away in her mansion and spout adorkable quips while her husband, mother, and colleagues deal with the mess she caused.

and of course there's the constant inclusion of apollo spitting straight facts about persephone being a terrible queen and person, but of course because it's apollo saying it, it's not meant to be taken as gospel, essentially clapping back at the words of the critics who call out persephone for being a shitty and toxic protagonist by putting those words into the mouth of a literal rapist.

and yeah episode 263 had a lot of the same shit, to the point that you could literally swap out the names of the characters and the words they were speaking and it applies exactly to rachel and the corner she put herself in u.u it's been a thing for a while now that apollo has just felt like a mouthpiece for LO criticism but as mentioned by users within the subreddit during the discussion of this newest episode, it's never felt more apparent than now.

so yeah enjoy this satirical text edit of a sequence from the newest FP episode, which I honestly can't tell is meant to satirize the critical community or Rachel's reactions to the critical community because the weird reality this comic and its community exist in has just become that wack that it's hard to believe it's not directly from The Onion sometimes LMAO

-and as much as i find myself empathizing with the pressure that rachel is surely under right now - no one should have to be subject to the screeching howls of the peanut gallery - i can't help but be reminded of the memes and tweets she's put out that basically outright say "persephone is supposed to be celebrated for being a shitty person, if you can't handle her at her worst you don't deserve her at her best 💅"-

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

-and how often she's ruined her own day looking for critical groups or people with the "wrong opinions" that were minding their own business, or how much she's stifled her own community's attempts to discuss the story openly by having her mods ban anyone with even so much as a question regarding persephone's integrity.

so yeah, as much as i can empathize with her from one creator to another that being under this amount of pressure and scrutiny must be immensely frustrating and exhausting, beyond that one similarity i just can't empathize or relate to this mindset of almost learned helplessness that's taken a firm grip over her writing. this is the story she wants to tell and by all means no one is entitled to make her stop, but if she's gonna keep using her greek myth "retelling" comic that's trying to be "feminist" as a mouthpiece for her own griping over criticisms that are largely on-point and justified - to the point of putting the words of her critics into the mouth of her token villain like she's playing some single player barbie doll "act out that fight that sounded cooler in your head" game - then she's gonna keep getting called out, full stop. i figured she didn't have any nose left to rip off in spite of her face but apparently not.

look, i get it, there are some opinions and behaviors within the critical community that even i'm not on board with. there are people who absolutely take shit too far on both sides of the fandom, and i think both sides need to do more to hold themselves accountable for how they interact with each other, the comic, and rachel herself. i make it a point to keep my shit in my own house, i'm not entitled to rachel's attention and frankly it's the last thing i want because i have a lot of fun here and i don't want that to be potentially ruined or dampened! but if you come into my house and complain about the decorating, then i legitimately don't know what to tell you. i used to love LO and i'm so sad for my past self knowing fully well they're not gonna be able to wholeheartedly enjoy this comic forever due to how manipulative and shitty the storytelling has become. a story that i once connected to as an AFAB who was a victim of assault and abuse and generational trauma.

if persephone being the true main villain in her own story was ever meant to be the point of Lore Olympus, then it's taken way, way too long to get to that point, and rachel herself definitely doesn't seem to be of the mindset that that's what she's become with all of her blasé meme'ing on a plot arc that she's still expecting us to take seriously. persephone was never a very complex character to begin with - being an easy self-insert for the audience and rachel to project themselves onto and relate to - but at least in the beginning she felt like she had so much legitimate potential, she was naive but put her best foot forward and clearly wanted to make a life for herself, made by herself.

now she's just mean. jaded and mean. dependent on the constant validation of others to the point of being manipulative. an absolute shell of a person who can only grow a spine when she's punching down on people weaker than her, completely incapable of standing up to the people who are a legitimate threat to her. it's not empowering, it's not subversive, it's just another pick me story about women pitting themselves against other women and never taking accountability for their own behavior, mistakes, and deliberate actions meant to hurt others, often teetering on the line of straight up narcissism all for the sake of a "boss babe" moment.

anyways, if you want an actual well-written and GOOD scene of an empathetic female protagonist struggling to find their footing in adulthood being called the fuck out for their learned helplessness behavior, go read Tamberlane, it tackles this topic much better through its main character who keeps using her brokenness as an excuse to never do better, it slaps and it's so real.

[ominous-faechild]

Hi, guys. It's me, Barlowe.

No fun aesthetics, none of that. We're addressing the election today.

I never thought I'd be political on my blog—and, in fact, avoided it except for where I really wanted to get things out to everyone, like Project 2025—but circumstances have forced me to step up.

For those who want to see my actual Writeblr intro, you can find it here. This post is getting pinned to my blog for a while.

So, hi. Barlowe here.

I'm an autistic lesbian with health issues I'm too poor to treat.

I'm currently in a relationship with a Mexican-American woman.

My older sister, although we don't really get along, is trans.

I do not care about my relationship with her. What matters is that she is in legitimate danger. Because of the results of the election.

My girlfriend? She's in danger, too. She had people yell and spit at and shove her during Trump's first term, and she had little to nobody she could turn to for help. Like me, she's chock-full of struggles and disabilities. So much so that I almost want to say she's had it even worse than me in that regard.

But I won't be comparing struggles here; that's not the point.

My little sister is still a teenager. She lives in Florida.

As a 13-year-old, she had people call her a slut for wearing a tank top.

A tank top.

It's Florida. It's hot.

She was 13.

Do you know the amount of rage I felt when I heard that?

I'm a nonviolent af grown-ass adult and I wanted to track down those kids to beat them tf up. I wanted to teach them a lesson to never treat my little sister like that again.

But they aren't the source of the problem, do you know that?

The source of the problem is their parents. The media. The internet, and echo chambers full of disgusting, sexist pigs who reduce women—and girls—to nothing more than sex objects for men.

“Grab 'em by the pussy.”

Did we all forget that?

Did we all forget how disgusting that pathetic excuse for a man is?

Did we ignore all of his crimes, all of the things he's done?

Why? Because Harris is a black woman? Because she's mixed? Because she's flawed? Because she didn't deserve to win?

Listen to me.

That's not good enough.

Maybe she didn't deserve to win. But do you know what?

Nor did Trump.

Trump deserves to be IN JAIL.

He's racist, he's xenophobic, he's sexist, a rapist, a homophobe, a convicted felon, and so, so much more.

And yet here we are.

How did millions of people vote a man like that into office?

I would've gone running for the hills at just ONE of those things?

... but that's not the point.

We're here now, except... things aren't quite as clear-cut as we've been led to believe.

There's an interesting saying that goes something like:

“People most often expect from others what they know of themselves.”

And what did Trump most love screaming at the hills?

That the votes of 2020 were rigged.

And he said to “find votes”.

Well, it looks like he found them.

Or, at the very least, he's gotten rid of Democratic ones.

There were bomb threats called in on democratic-leaning polling locations, machines “didn't recognize” ballots, democratic ballots were rejected for inane reasons, and ballots were burned.

Do you think a man so obsessed with so-called “rigging” wouldn't engage in it himself? Whether he truly believed it or not—which, it's been proven that he didn't, and only claimed so to rile up his cultish followers, causing January 6th—who's to say he wouldn't do it himself to “even out the playing field” so to speak? Who's to say a man like him wouldn't claim election fraud 4 years in advance just to pull the wool over all of our collective eyes later?

I'm not saying that he hasn't won.

But I am saying it's not goddamn over.

There's petitions you can sign demanding for recounts [EDIT: THEY DELETED THE LAST ONE!!!! THIS IS A REPLACEMENT!!!]. You can contact Harris to beg her to not take this lying down. You can—and SHOULD—contact the White House directly.

Listen to me.

Check out Project 2025.

My sweet, lovely girlfriend has been shoved and verbally abused—harassed into literal agoraphobia that she's already slipping back into just because of the election's results—by people who ate up the hateful rhetoric of the Right.

She lives in a Blue State.

Even while my trans sister was male-presenting, she was treated differently—coldly—before she cut her hair short again. Suddenly, people would smile at her on the streets again.

She's since started transitioning, and what about now?

My little sister was physically bullied while she lived in Texas.

They, too, are lucky I was never around for that.

Now, in Florida, I doubt she fares much better.

My friend, who's a teacher in Texas, has been forced to publish under a pseudonym and try their complete and utter best to hide their writing so they're not fired for her job. Why?

Because the MC's nonbinary.

My friend is terrified for their son, growing up in a world like this. They're terrified to have another kid—which they want—because 'what if it's a daughter?' They don't want to bring a girl into a world like this.

And they don't want to risk a pregnancy that can end their life.

People all across the states are being forced to give birth to the children of their rapists... or die because of complications in the womb.

Babies are being forced to die slowly in the womb rather than humanely, through “abortion”, after it's clear they're dying, but “still have a heartbeat.”

Queer folk, PoC, and immigrants have been targeted and live in fear for their lives. They deal with VERY real violence and harassment, even if you don't see it yourself.

This is all the lasting effects of Trump's first term as president.

He and his followers spread a hateful rhetoric strongly aligning with Hitler's before the man took over. They fearmonger and sell out minorities as the reason everything's wrong in this country.

They make minorities a scapegoat, and make them into targets.

Regardless of the actual results of the election, these so-called “victories” for the Right only embolden the bigots to act more and more egregiously.

It doesn't matter if you're “one of the good ones”. It doesn't matter if “most Republicans aren't like that”. It doesn't matter what you think.

What matters is reality.

And reality is: a Trump victory means victory for the extremists.

They ran with it the first time.

What do you think they're going to do with it this time?

This all isn't to sound doomeristic, though—I think we still have a chance. I think Trump's rigged this thing for a reason. I think we need to push for this stuff to be exposed.

But it's going to take everything we have, guys.

Sure, maybe Harris isn't perfect. She's questionable af in a LOT of places, and I personally hate her stances on Palestine. I'm sure most of all of us do. But, do you really think Trump will be any kinder?

Do you really care to doom everyone else off of the miniscule chance that he'll decide to help them?

Listen: Harris isn't trying to turn the States into the next fascist dictatorship. Trump is. Harris isn't showing EVERY single “preparing for a genocide” red flag. Trump. IS.

Petition for recounts. Tell Harris not to give up.

And contact the White House telling them this is not acceptable.

Complain about the bomb threats. Complain about the lost ballots. Complain about the tampered-with ballots. Complain about the burned ballots, complain about the rejected ballots, and don't stop fighting tooth-and-nail like Trump kicked and screamed after the 2020 election.

Don't give up. It's not too late.

And, to my followers?

Let me make this abundantly clear.

If any of you voted for Trump? If any of you wanted him to win, or for Harris to lose?

Then get the fuck off my blog.

I don't give a shit what kind of relationship we've had in the past, or if you liked my writing, or any of that.

A loss for Harris is a win for Trump—it's that simple.

You aren't morally superior for choosing not to vote for Harris no matter WHAT reason you had for it. You aren't morally superior for finding her dubious, for hating her views on Palestine, or for refraining from choosing either of the two evils.

You're a coward.

An enabler, comforting yourself by telling yourself “at least you didn't have a hand in {whatever turned you against her}”.

Sure, you didn't kill the sheep.

But you left the gates open for the wolves.

And that makes you responsible for their deaths.

You knew the risks of leaving the gate open. But you did it anyway.

And, to any of you who voted for Trump?

I want you to know I HATE you.

No matter what, no matter who, no matter WHY.

I consider you all equally responsible for anything and everything that happens as a result of his presidency if it comes to be.

It isn't “just politics”.

It isn't something you can just wipe your hands clean of.

Maybe you don't have to face the consequences for the things that come from this, but I, the people I love, and countless others do.

It's not “just politics”.

It's our fucking lives.

And I hope, one of these days, you learn to regret it as much as the rest of us.

So, to those of you who left the gate open?

Do yourself a favor.

Get the fuck off my blog before I find out you did.

[xtrafluffyteddy]

The boss

Body guard! Ghost x Mafia boss! Fem! reader

A little self indulgent buttttt

Tw: violence, guns, alcohol, blood, sexism (quickly resolved)

Your name was feared around town, no one really knew what you looked like but they heard fearsome tales of a mafia boss who left people who wronged them so busted and broken that even dental records couldn’t tell you who they were before they crossed you, as well as the mafia bosses guard dog who would rip people to shreds just for starting rumors, and you loved it that way it made you feel powerful, untouchable.

“Love” Simon says as he strides into your room holding a new file and your favorite tea “new client comin in today he’ll be here in 20” he leans down to give you a soft kiss through his mask that he kept on during business hours, his face was only for your viewing pleasure no one else’s. “Mmm that you my darling stay with me won’t you?” You look up at him grinning “wouldn’t dream of leavin your side” he grunts.

The man, your client, came in 20 minutes late already getting himself on your shit list, “hey baby where’s the boss I gotta talk to him” the man says as he makes himself comfortable on your pristine black leather couch putting his disgusting feet up on your glass table “and uh get me a whiskey while your at it” you couldn’t help but grit your teeth catching Simon who gave you a look that screamed ‘let me kill this motherfucker’ with a quick wave of your hand you get up putting on a sickly sweet smile “of course sir anything else I can get for you sir”, Simon fought back the urge to tear this man apart for disrespecting you.

When you came back into the room you hand the man the shittiest whiskey you had in house after spitting in it when he wasn’t looking “thanks doll face” he said before slapping your ass as you walked back to Simon causing you to grit your teeth again. “Let me kill ‘em love” Simon whispers in your ear as he glares at the man “not yet darlin but soon” you turn back to the man with a fake smile “can you hurry it up bitch I got more important things to do” the man snarled getting fed up with how long it’s taking “of course of course” you sit down crossing one leg over the other picking up his file.

Reading over his file you were less that impressed a couple of petty crimes and a few drug runs nothing special in your eyes “hey big guy call your fucking boss already since this broad apparently doesn’t know how to fucking listen” your eye twitches as the man puts his cigarette out on your couch. Simon gives you a look and you nod grinning as he picks up his phone and presses call on your number. The look on the man’s face was priceless as your phone rang you relished in the way the color drained from his face and he immediately sat up straight “I-I-I-I” he stuttered “you- you- you- you what” you snarled “didn’t mean to disrespect me? Didn’t mean to come into my office make a mess of my shit? Oh sweetheart we’re way past piss poor apologies” he began shaking his head quickly getting up to come towards you only to be stopped by Simon who puts his hands on the man’s chest and pushed him back down onto the couch “sit down.” Simon growls before looking back at you “what do ya want me to do to him ma’am” you suck your teeth before sighing “maybe I’ll feed you to my dogs, orrrr maybe I’ll cut out your tongue for calling me a bitch, or I’ll let Ghost torture you nice and slow and send pieces of you back to the shit hole you crawled out of” you hum like your thinking “I think I’ll leave that a surprise wouldn’t wanna ruin the fun would we”

The mans body was found 5 blocks from your hideout, the police couldn’t believe the amount of damage that was inflicted. He was missing his eyes, his fingernails, his teeth seemed to have been pulled out one by one and shoved down his throat, and his tongue cut out and found right next to him with the word bitch carved into it.

“Si” you sigh stretching as you look over at the man who was washing the blood off his hands “yes my love” he replies turning his full attention towards you “I’m thinking Chinese tonight? Or maybe Italian” to others your lack of remorse for the carnage you left was terrifying, sickening even, but to Simon he couldn’t help but stare at you heart racing as he fell more in love with you.

[ilikekidsshows]

What do you think of the argument that Marinette keeps secret to benefit others while Adrien keeps secrets out of selfishness?

---

I think Adrien salters are so infected by bad faith criticism that Adrien could sneeze and they would claim he was just trying to get sympathy by faking an illness. Adrien can't do anything without them taking the worst possible interpretation and running with it. I also think that they have Adrien and Marinette confused. Adrien is the abuse victim who has been taught that his feelings don't matter while Marinette is the control freak in pigtails. Adrien lies because he has been taught to lie, while Marinette lies because her biggest fear is feeling uncomfortable for the 10 minutes it would take to explain the truth. 

But, let's play a game of pretend. Let's pretend Marinette is a pure saint who only ever lies to bring happiness to others and never for her own gain. It still wouldn't matter. The argument has never been: “did Marinette lie for the right reasons?” It's always been: “did she have a right to lie?” and the answer is, unless you're a victim-blaming ghoul, a resounding “Fuck no!” Marinette’s good intentions don’t actually help any of the people she lies to, because things they have a right to know and that they need to know so that they can make informed decisions are being kept from them, by Marinette. The people defending her can’t even give any reasons for why the “logic” of her lies is sound, because they just make vague comments about the secrecy being “more secure” without giving any examples why Cat Noir knowing the two-man team is now a three-man team, there’s a potential backup Ladybug and who their allies are is such a security risk.

As I said, there is no point in arguing over selfless or selfish lies because that's not what the discussion is about. It's about lying about things the other person has a right to know. Marinette is not entitled to Adrien's personal life, any of the conversations he’s ever had about her or every thought he’s ever had, even if they’re negative thoughts about her, but Adrien, however, is entitled to know what the fuck is happening in the team he’s in. He’s entitled to know his father was a supervillain. And he’s definitely entitled to know that he's a remote control robot and his cousin can now snap him out of existence whenever he wants. Marinette causes problems by lying and no amount of good intentions will fix that. In fact, the good intentions make it worse, because now her victims feel like they have to give her a free pass because “she didn’t mean to hurt anybody”. Maybe people should get mad at her for once and maybe she’d stop being like this. Because Marinette lies constantly over the most inconsequential shit, so it’s not surprising she lies about the actually important shit too.

Because, like, let's not kid ourselves here; Marinette’s lies aren't within spitting distance of selfless. Marinette lies to avoid feeling uncomfortable, because the truth makes her uncomfortable or makes her look bad. This is consistent with her lies as both a hero and a civilian. Her reasons for lying include not wanting to deal with Chloé's reaction to being told she was off the hero team, not wanting to explain to Cat Noir that she isn’t the independent, perfect leader she portrays and actually buckled under the pressure and made Rena a permanent team member to take off some of the load, wanting to sabotage a girl who has a crush on Adrien so that they don't get to spend time together, lying about deleting the most important video Alya had filmed in her career as an amateur journalist so far because she didn't want her to be upset at her, and trying to avoid a preschooler thinking she's cringe. There is no greater good here. If there's a pattern to Marinette's lies, it's not selflessness, it's her fragile ego.

[sapphirelass]

In my Blood ~ Will Solace x Sister!Reader

Hi you guys! Wow, it's been over a year😅 I'm still working toward my uni degree (physics, maths and upper secondary school education for those of you who don't know), spending time with my boyfriend, hanging out with friends, and visiting my family as often as I can. I promise I have done a fair bit of writing this past year, just not finished anything... But, here we are! Really looking forward to the PJO-series, but while we're all waiting, here's a Will imagine because Will is great <3

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To read as xOC, click here

Words: 2500 ish

Warnings: injury, blood, wounds, angst (normal demigod stuff really, but you know)

Please note that English isn't my first language! I have studied it for over a decade, and speak it fluently, but there might still be some grammatical errors and a mix of British/American expressions - thanks for understanding :)

y/n - your name

y/n/n - your nickname

she/her reader

Enjoy! :)

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“Get down!” she shouted, as a giant, angry, terrifying cyclops approached them. “Listen closely now; do you see that huge pine tree over there? And the statue? Run past them, and you’ll find people who’ll help. I’ll try to buy you as much time as possible!”

The two seven-year-old half-bloods that had just been saved and brought to camp (well, almost anyway) sat off towards the border, as (y/n) Solace, daughter of Apollo, stayed behind and pulled her sword out. She was a way more advanced archer than swordfighter, but the one bow she had brought with her had fallen out of her firm grip as she jumped behind a boulder for cover. She had made an attempt at getting it back, however, that just resulted in her body coming crashing to the ground as the cyclops’ hand collided with her chest, while the bow ended up in between the hard ground and the monster’s massive foot… (Y/n) threw her head back and sighed at the sight of her trusty old weapon in pieces, and it wasn’t until she tried to push herself back up on her feet that she noticed a terrible pain spreading through her left arm from her elbow. It hurt badly, but since she didn’t have much of a choice, (y/n), suddenly feeling slightly dizzy, pushed herself back up with her other hand and looked for another road to victory. 

After a few minutes of trying to attack the monster with her sword, but repeatedly failing since getting close enough without getting hit herself proved to be very difficult, (y/n) quickly ran in a circle around the monster causing him to stumble - if only for a second. She wasted no time launching herself at the cyclops with her sword and - *SPLASH*. The sharp, metal blade bore deep into the slimy eye, and the cyclops staggered backwards, slowly disintegrating. (y/n) was just about to take a deep breath when she felt a stinging sensation in her abdomen. Briefly glancing down, she winced as she realized what had happened. The monster must have grabbed one of her arrows from the quiver she had thrown onto the ground, and, rather violently judging by the amount of blood oozing through her orange t-shirt, pushed one into her side. 

Being a demigod, (y/n) had obviously suffered multiple injuries before, though never quite ones as bad as this. The bottom half of her shirt was now more red than orange, and she could feel the world spinning slightly. Groaning, she sat down against a tree and inspected the wound carefully. She wanted to pull the arrow out, but her twin brother Will had always strongly argued against doing something just like that. A vague memory of him saying something along the lines of “the weapon possibly being the only thing keeping you from losing too much blood”... Sighing, she started to slowly make her way toward camp but didn’t make it very far before stumbling over her own feet and falling forwards on the cold hard ground. (Y/n) coughed up something that looked like a mixture of spit and blood before pushing herself to her feet again with the help of her sword. It wasn’t a speedy process, but she kept walking in the direction of the infirmary, stopping to catch her breath every few steps.

---

“(y/n/n)?!” She only had a few hundred meters to go when two of her closest friends - Travis and Connor Stoll - came running towards her with worried faces. Typically when the brothers approached someone together in this way it was with mischievous smiles on their faces and usually followed by a prank of some sort, but not this time. “What in the name of the gods happened to you?”, Travis asked, as Connor carefully placed (y/n)’s right arm across his shoulders to help support her. “We ran into some new kids who said you’d picked a fight with a giant?”

“Oh hardly…”, she demonstrated. “If anyone picked a fight it was him! And besides, it was just a normal cyclops, and not even a very big one.” She winced slightly when Travis smiled and grabbed her other arm, but started walking more steadily thanks to the brothers. “But my bow broke, and - friendly advice - don’t try to take out a cyclops with nothing but a sword.”

“You should put that on a T-shirt.”, Travis joked but shut up quickly when (y/n)’s knees buckled and she stumbled again. He sent her a worried glance as Connor spoke up.

“So, what happened? How bad off are you really?”

She told them the story as they walked slowly down the hill and across the volleyball court. They were right by the big house when (y/n) finished the story.

“Gods…”, Connor mumbled, changing his grip around his friend’s shoulder to give her even more support. “You know Will’s gonna kill you himself this time, right?”. (Y/n) was about to answer him when someone opened the door to the infirmary and beat her to it.

“Who do I have to kill? I swear, if Nico is shadow travelling like a madman agai- Oh Gods!”, Will interrupted himself, a look of horror on his face as he was met with the sight of his twin sister barely able to stand up, and covered from head to toe in blood, mud, and dirt. “(y/n/n), what happened?!” He examined her quickly before holding the door open so the Hermes boys could get in and slowly lay (y/n) on one of the bunks.

“It’s a bit of a story, and I don’t know if I feel like repeating it again right now”, she said weakly, wincing a bit as Will swiftly pulled her worn jean jacket off, “but the short version is that a cyclops punched me and I have an arrow through my stomach… And probably a broken arm too. And I might have hit my head when I fell… it, eh, hurts a bit…”

“Gods…”, Will sighed, “Well, do you feel nauseous? Disorientated? Can you see clearly or is anything blurry?” 

“Eh… a little dizzy maybe, and a weak headache, but my sight is fine and I’m not feeling sick.”

 “Right”, Will mumbled as he wiped a small amount of blood from his sister’s forehead and briefly inspected the small wound. “Something positive I suppose…”. He put a small bandaid on it to slow the bleeding down at least momentarily, before moving to look at his sister’s arm which was indeed bent in a rather weird way. “Well, head-related injuries are always scary, I’ll have to examine it further to know how bad it actually is. The arm is absolutely broken - annoying, but fixable - though this arrow…” He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through her T-shirt so that he could get to the wound.  “Jeez, (y/n/n)… How long have you been bleeding?”

She took a deep breath before answering. “I’m not sure, it feels like an eternity, but an hour maybe?”

“AN HOUR?!” Will tried to stay calm, but his now pale face told another story. “Holy… Okay, eh, (y/n/n), I’m gonna… I have to get the arrow out and stop the bleeding as fast as I can, you- you’ve already lost way too much blood. Let's just hope that it missed anything vital.”

He whispered the last part, but (y/n) hardly heard the rest either, as she slowly but steadily started drifting off to sleep. “Sure thing… You do that, I’m just gonna doze off for a quick sec…”

“Oh no, you’re not!” Will dropped what he was holding and grabbed her shoulders to shake her gently. “(Y/n/n), I get that you’re exhausted, but you have to stay awake. As I said, you lost a lot of blood, and you may have a concussion. Sorry, I’m not even gonna argue with you - you’re not falling asleep.”

He turned back to the brothers who were watching from afar, wanting to know what happened but also not being in the way. “Connor, Travis, you have to keep her talking while I work, okay?”

“Sure”, Travis nodded, as Connor grabbed (y/n)’s right hand again. “Wanna tell us about the new kids?”

“Yeah”, Connor added. “They seem cool!”

“They are…” (y/n) moved a bit, carefully letting Will remove the piece of her T-shirt that he had cut off to get to the wound. “Only seven years old, fighters both of them. They ran away from different orphanages in Vermont and took down a basilisk together in Albany and have taken care of each other si- AHHHHH.”

She let out a harsh scream as her brother swiftly pulled what was left of the arrow out of her chest, and would probably have rolled off the bed if not for the Stoll brothers holding her down as Will apologised profusely. 

“I’m so sorry, (y/n/n)”, he mumbled sadly, as he handed Travis a big piece of ambrosia, “but that was the worst of it. You’re doing really well, just hold on. You should try to have some ambrosia now that the arrow’s out.” She struggled to take a few shallow breaths as the extreme pain slowly began to fade again, but nodded and accepted the small piece of godly food Travis was offering her. The pain instantly lessened even more as the flavour of her mother’s gingerbread cookies combined with a touch of magic consumed her whole being. (Y/n) finally took a really deep breath, but when she exhaled it felt as if every single drop of energy she had been grasping onto left her at once. She allowed herself to close her eyes and immediately began drifting off to sleep, the worried voices of Will, Travis, and Connor simply fading into silence.

---

(Y/n) was desperate for a few hours of peaceful rest, but unfortunately sleep and nightmares tended to almost always go hand in hand for demigods. She relived the last 24 hours in her sleep, everything from leaving camp in the early morning feeling excited to bring some new kids back to the exhausting battle that could have ended badly if not for the cyclops’ inability to stay on its feet. During the actual fight, it had happened so quickly that she hadn’t even noticed it at first, but this time she could clearly see how the monster roughly yanked a sharp arrow from her quiver and began making his way back towards her. She lay flat on the ground, desperately trying to move out of the way, but she couldn’t. It was as if all her muscles suddenly decided to to take any more orders from her brain. The cyclops lifted his arm, getting ready to deliver the final blow, as (y/n) closed her eyes, starting to accept her fate.

It felt as if time itself stopped. All she could hear was her own shaky breathing - until suddenly it wasn’t… There was a also voice, far away, sure, but still clearly there…

“(Y/n/n)? Please wake up! C’mon!”

It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint who it belonged to. She focused and tried to listen for the voice again, but she was so exhausted… Giving in to the darkness felt so inviting… And simple. She could do with simple for once.

“No, no, no!” The voice cracked, panic and desperation shining through. “Don’t you dare give up now! C’mon, (y/n), I’m here, I’ve got you! Don’t give up… please…”

She was so close to slipping away, but something about that seemed wrong, and the reassuring words plus the comforting feeling brought to her by the sound of the familiar voice gave her precisely the boost of energy she needed. Shaking herself out of the nightmare, (y/n) inhaled sharply before shooting up, her eyes darting around the room until someone gently placed their hands on her shoulders, causing her to meet their gaze.

“(y/n)!”

She blinked a few times, shaking violently as she began realizing where she was. “Will?”

“Oh Gods!” He hugged her tightly, perhaps a bit too tight, but it didn’t matter in that moment - the 16-year-old was just so incredibly relieved to see that his sister was alright. “You’re alive!”

(Y/n)’s breathing evened out again as she leaned into her brother. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t let go of her arms, but moved back slightly and sent her a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“I… I just… I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Gods, (y/n/n), I always worry.” He moved closer again. “I’m just happy you’re okay! I mean, it’ll be a while before you’re back doing quests of course”, he sent her a serious look, “but the fact that you woke up is a good sign”. 

(Y/n) accepted the ambrosia piece Will offered to her before answering. “All thanks to you.”

“Well”, he shrugged, “your body did most of the hard work...” (Y/n) shook her head at Will’s modesty before starting to push herself off the bed to stand up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!! Stop! What do you think you’re doing?!”, Will exclaimed, swiftly pushing her back down. "You have been unconscious for over four days and lost so much blood, and that’s not even mentioning your head, arm or other random scratches. You’re staying here at least until Friday, no discussion.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, secretly feeling very lucky to have a brother as caring as Will. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just need to stretch my legs for a second, please? Help me out?" 

Will didn’t look too happy with the idea, but understood how stiff she must be feeling after so many days and nodded. It wasn’t like (y/n) wanted to get up and run, she still felt really tired and weak. However, after that horrifying moment of helplessness that she experienced in her dream, just the confirmation that she could in fact still move her arms and legs was incredibly comforting. When everything felt normal, she tried a few careful steps and immediately stumbled, but didn’t fall thanks to Will’s support.

“Light-headed?”

“Yeah, a bit…”

“Alright, that’s enough, back you go.” He guided her back to the bed, and she lay her head back down on the pillow.

"There we go!", Will smiled, "can I get you anything?"

"A cup of tea, please? Red, no honey?"

"You’ve got it!"

Five minutes later Will returned, balancing two cups of tea and a cheese sandwich on a tray. "Who ordered the tea and sandwich?", he asked jokingly as he sat the tray on the bed. He placed some pillows against the wall and slowly helped his sister sit up against them. “That would be me", she smiled. Will also sat down on the bed and put an arm around (y/n). She took a small bite of the sandwich and leaned her head on her brother's shoulder. The siblings drank their tea in silence, enjoying the feeling of being together and safe, if only for the night.

<3

//L masterlist

[dr-futbol-blog]

Critical Mass, Pt. 1

The episode Critical Mass (S02E13) might be viewed as a kind of symbolic passing of the baton from SG-1 to Åtlantis, the former either having or in the process of losing its heart just like Teyla's surrogate granny Charrin. In any case, it is one of the cross-over episodes between the two series even though none of the main cast of SG-1 appear in it. It is also the aftermath of Epiphany (S02E12), both Sheppard and McKay dealing with issues their separation (for Sheppard) and the subsequent straying by Sheppard (that from McKay's point of view had happened quite literally out of the blue) had brought up for them, laying the groundwork for what happens in the following episode.

The episode begins not with Sheppard or McKay but with Zelenka, loading up equipment for an off-world mission. This is relevant in that it is an example of what we see McKay do throughout the episode, which is to take out the resentment he feels toward Sheppard's actions (because he is grateful to have him back, of course he is, the whole ordeal seems to be causing him no small amount of cognitive dissonance) on the people working for him. It is an abuse of power, to be sure, and we see every one of the senior staff overstep their boundaries in this episode. Regardless, we find Sheppard making his way to Zelenka just as he is on his way out.

Sheppard: Going off-world? Zelenka: M7G-677. Sheppard: That's the planet with all the kids, right? Zelenka: They're having trouble with their EM field generator and McKay has decided that I am the most capable person in all of Atlantis to fix it.

It appears to be a slow day on Atlantis so Sheppard is just checking what is happening by the gate on his way to McKay who seems to be waiting for him up on the control platform. As he answers Sheppard's question, Zelenka speaks the designation of the planet like every letter and number is a curse, and Sheppard immediately knows what planet he is talking about. There are two options here (that he just randomly remembers gate addresses is not it): he either remembers the address because the planet was significant to him (and we may recall that McKay had pointed out the same address to him in Before I Sleep (S01E15): "M7G-677 -- we've been to this planet"), or McKay had told him about sending Zelenka there before-hand and he is just pretending to find out about it now. Either is as likely as the other, given his mirthful reaction to Zelenka returning from the planet later on. In any case, all three of them are being real mature here.

What might tip the scale to Sheppard actually remembering this planet of his own accord is Samantha Carter. It had been the first time McKay had mentioned Carter to him, and even though they had not yet hooked up by then, were not even close to getting together, Sheppard had already been annoyed by the way McKay had described her. This might be supported by the fact that Carter is actually name-checked in this episode, she features prominently in the following episode, and the fact that Sheppard is using another blonde Air Force officer to get under McKay's skin in this episode. Sheppard has issues in the shape of Samantha Carter, and because he is prone to projection and having recently had sex with a woman not knowing he was ever going to see McKay again that he feels guilty about, all of this comes out as petty jealousy for his part. It is a well-known phenomenon for people that have strayed in their relationships to accuse the other person of having the hots for someone, inadvertently telling on themselves. In this case, however, McKay already knows about it. He pretty much knew within a second of seeing Sheppard what had happened. And although he can understand it, is even grateful that Sheppard had company and was not driven mad by loneliness, it is going to take him a minute to get over it.

Further, Zelenka puts a lot of attitude on describing how he had received this assignment, spitting out McKay's name with no small amount of venom and Sheppard is simply the wrong person to bring McKay-related grievances to. Not only is he never going to join in on the "We hate McKay club" (that is not what happens in McKay and Mrs Miller, S03E08), McKay is one of his favourite people. Even if he was not in love with the man, he would never choose to bond with someone over putting McKay down. It is not only a wasted effort on Zelenka's part, Sheppard actually stands up for McKay. But let us also note what Zelenka is actually saying here: McKay had not only trusted Zelenka with the mission, he had also complimented the man on his ability. Zelenka may feel like he is being shafted and for sure McKay is not doing this out of the goodness of his heart, but he trusts Zelenka to be able to take care of the problem.

Sheppard: Hey, don't worry. They're a great group of kids, you're gonna love them. Zelenka: My sister has a child. He breaks things. He throws things. He smears things onto furniture. McKay: Colonel Sheppard! I need you up in the Control Room. Oh -- you're still here?

Let us note the fact that the reason Sheppard tells Zelenka the kids are great and he is going to love them is not because he thinks the kids are great -- he only really bonded with Keras over their mission, McKay had much more contact with the actual kids -- it is in defense of McKay. This is Sheppard running interference for McKay because he does not want people to talk about McKay the way Zelenka is talking about him right now. And we might remember that his heart-to-heart with Keras is where Sheppard admitted that he might want kids one day (and we were shown what a great Mr Mom McKay would be), and there definitely had been a time before everything fell apart that they had both dreamed of having children, making a family. Remembering the planet is bitter-sweet for him. Also, he tells Zelenka that the kids are going to love him because he remembers that that kids had loved McKay, and anyone who loves McKay is alright in his book.

Zelenka's impromptu therapy session is interrupted when McKay calls for Sheppard up from the control platform because apparently they had a date and Sheppard had wandered off on his way there. McKay naturally calls him Colonel here given that this is as public of a situation as they get, but let us just make note of the other thing he says. He needs Sheppard. McKay needs him and his need is not limited to just having him up there for a meeting. And because the next time we see them, they are with Weir and Ronon and it is assumed that their meeting follows this scene without pause, let us also make note of the fact that he does indeed say I need you. He does not say "We need you," "We require your presence," "We're waiting for for you" or any variation thereof. McKay's need of Sheppard at this time is personal, his presence at the meeting was something else. And the way Sheppard looks up at him is also interesting. He is not just lifting his chin up, he is leaning his whole body back to be able to take McKay in. And again he is turning his body toward McKay without even thinking about it where for most people he would only turn his head.

Zelenka: We're just leaving. McKay: Hmm! Well, do say 'hi' to the kids for me. Zelenka: Idiot. "Say 'hi' to the kids for me." You'll catch it from me. You are such an idiot.

What happens then is interesting. For one, McKay tells him to say "hi" to the kids for him and most people are going to think he is being facetious about it because they remember the way he was frustrated with the children in the beginning, not how he grew fond of them and was ready to protect them with his life. The children liked him, and he grew to like them. He is not going to fix the EM Field Generator himself (this time, he actually misses Sheppard's father's funeral when it needs to be fixed again) but he does have a genuine reason to stay back, what with the two wraith cruisers he has been monitoring. He is not doing this just to be a dick. In fact, that he is sending someone to fix the shield for them at all is a gesture of good will on his part, it shows that he does care what happens to the kids.

But the finger guns. We have seen McKay do finger guns before because he has a tendency to move his hands a lot, he uses his hands to communicate. We saw him finger gun Ronon just in the previous episode when he told him that they might even score a ZPM from their rescue mission. That is not strange, it is merely communicating his good spirit, meant to take the edge off his words. What is significant here is that Sheppard imitates him. While he merely lifts his thumb up instead of making his hand into a gun--possibly because he does not want to point a gun at anyone he does not intend to use it on--Sheppard makes the exact same sound as McKay does before leaving Zelenka and running up the stairs (literally, taking two steps at a time) to McKay. And again, he had no time to have any conscious thought going into it, he merely reacted to McKay. He mirrored McKay. His body responded to McKay even though McKay had not even been communicating it to him. They are standing on two different floors and his body is so attuned to McKay's as to mimic his actions.

And so we join Sheppard and McKay on the control platform where Ronon and Weir are also with them. However, we do not know whether all three of them had been waiting for Sheppard to start the meeting or if Weir and Ronon had joined in on McKay while he had been explaining this to Sheppard. The fact that it is Weir and Ronon reminds us of the beginning of Aurora (02E09) where Sheppard had clearly been watching McKay work during (or in lieu of) his lunch break and they had called Weir in later. Hell, for all we know the reason McKay needed Sheppard was to have lunch... or some other reason, as we do not know that this meeting followed directly from Sheppard running up the stairs, it is merely implied. But here they are now, Sheppard with his hands on his hips doing a pelvic display.

McKay: Two wraith cruisers. Weir: How far away are they? McKay: A day, maybe a day and a half. I've been tracking them for some time now, but the good news is it doesn't look like they're heading this way. Sheppard: Just passing through the neighbourhood? McKay: Yeah, it looks that way. But I just discovered something rather curious. Short but intense energy bursts passing between them.

What is curious here is that they have placed McKay between Weir and Sheppard, so that who Sheppard is turned toward is left ambiguous (if you have never watched the show before, and we get confirmation at the end of the episode that he still turns his pelvis away from her), all of this seems to be in the service of building up the anticipation for The Long Good-Bye (S02E16). It is McKay that Sheppard watches which is, of course, natural given that he is speaking. He has also parked himself furthest away from Weir.

Now, McKay is acting a little off and the point of this is to be misdirection so that we might suspect him of possibly being host to the Goa'uld later. Obviously, since he was never the host, his behaviour has some other motivation. We may note that the two cruisers on the screen that he has been keeping a keen eye on are more than a little phallic, and there may be some symbolism in them firing at each other, two things at luggerheads that are meant to be fast friends. Everything is not hunky-dory between Sheppard and McKay, that much is obvious. And this much is true whether or not they had sex just before the meeting. We may note that they are both kind of trying to avoid looking at the other man here, to avoid the other's gaze which, knowing how well they communicate when they do look at each other, speaks of a break in one level of communication between them.

Dex: They're fighting each other? McKay: Hmm. In my expert opinion, yes. Sheppard: That's good news. Weir: Certainly is. If there's any change in course at all, let me know.

Ronon makes the assumption that the cruisers are fighting each other, and probably they are. But later on, as they are alerted by the beacon to the possible survival of Atlantis, they seem to drop what ever had gotten them to fire at each other real quick and form a united front as they start advancing toward their common enemy (this is a metaphor). However, while this is McKay's "expert opinion," it is still an assumption, but it does throw a lampshade on other things that one might assume to be true about people fighting in this episode.

McKay mentions the short but intense energy burst exchanged by the cruisers and we might note here that we see Sheppard adjusting his radio for reasons that are never explained and which we have never seen him do before (in Conversion S02E08, we saw him take it off). It does not seem to be fitting right in his ear, he is re-adjusting it and this might well be caused by him having taken it off very recently. While this adjustment of his gear happens on the foreground, the fact that he is doing it at the same time as Ronon is speaking draws attention away from his gesture. Also later on, Sheppard also once again seems ginger sitting down. Further, his hair looks less fluffy and more shiny in this scene than it did when he was down with Zelenka, and it may be purposefully obscured by how he keeps turning his face away from the camera.

But of course he might have been sweating due to running up all those stairs earlier. All of this is to say that although we are being lead toward the idea that Sheppard and McKay are in-fighting, it might be that McKay had a whole other reason why he needed Sheppard up on the control room earlier. They had exchanged short but intense energy bursts before the meeting, is what I am saying. They had a quick pre-meeting meeting, just between the two of them. They had done something that had required Sheppard to take his radio off, is the thing.

Continued in Pt. 2

[lovelyo]

You Can’t Spell Polin Without Colin

Let me be clear. This ain’t a Colin appreciation post. Colin is an entitled, selfish dweeb but even I can see from his POV.

And somehow the Polin fans who swear up and down they love him can’t.

“Colin is a bitch boy”

“Colin stayed mad at Penelope for too long”

“Where’s supportive husband Colin? Where’s Colin ‘My Wife’ Bridgerton?”

“He just needs to forgive her already, get over it!”

This is gonna be a long one.

“Colin is a bitch boy”

That’s a perfect way to invalidate a man’s feelings. Let’s rage about misogyny but talk shit about guys who has feelings 😒. How is he a bitch boy for being upset at someone he loves for lying to him for years, even before they came intimate and when they were just friends.

He was open and transparent with Penelope every step of the way, bared his heart to her, was vulnerable with her and was happy to see that what he wanted was right there in front of him… only for him to find out she’s LW, the person who has been dunking on him and his family, LW whom he loathed. He cried ffs when he found out. The reason that hurt the most wasn’t that she was LW, it’s that she lied to him. She didn't spare a thought that he needed to know about such secrecy i.e, not giving a shit about his feelings. It mirrored exactly what Marina did. (On top of that, he realized that it was her that sent Marina to her doom) She didn’t reciprocate that same vulnerability he did for her and by the end of the season, still chose LW over him and he just had to sit there and take it.

You wanna talk about men not giving a shit about women’s feelings but it’s alright for women to do the same for men in the name of “girlbossing” 🤢

Colin in 2 weeks simmered down about the hurt Penelope has caused him while it took Penelope several months to get over one comment he said about her, which isn’t even detrimental because COLIN DOESN’T OWE PENELOPE A GODDAMN THING! You can’t get mad at someone who doesn’t want to date you. Who do you think you are to even believe you have a claim to someone like they’re a possession. She ghosted him for months over this while he had and did get over lies, shame, and betrayal in, again, a small amount of time. Who’s the bigger whiny bitch?

“Colin stayed mad at Penelope for too long”

Staying mad for too long? He didn’t stay mad long enough! Please contextualize. This man has been in scheming scandals with the Featherington family since season 1 lol. People are forgetting the trauma that he got from the pregnancy scandal, mainly the embarrassment from it being exposed by LW and having the whole ton know his business, which is humiliating as fuck and made him look like a fool(this is why I keep telling you ding dongs to stop saying LW saved the Bridgertons, she did not!) He had to null the engagement with the diamond of the season.

The start of his hatred for LW started from season 1. Colin told Penelope that she should’ve told him to his face about the pregnancy.

“Aschually 🤓☝️, she did try.”

Actually, she did not.

She tried to hint that Marina was still in love with a soldier, not “hey, the misses you trying to spit game at is preggo.” So his friend, knowing this info, instead of telling him the proper information privately to his face as a fricking friend should, printed out his business.

And let’s play devil’s advocate. Ok, Pen told Colin about the pregnancy and Colin didn’t listen. In the same season, we saw Violet do damage control and spinning the rumor windmill to help her daughter get the fuck away from Berbrooke. Penelope knows how supportive and protective the Bridgertons are with each other and also knows how much they like her since she’s friends with Eloise and Colin. Violet would’ve definitely listened, told Colin, and stirred something up to aid the situation.

But nah.

So that happened plus before that scandal came out, LW mocked Daphne for her lack of suitors and said Marina was incomparable, not Daphne. And then the Eloise scandal, all because of LW. Three Bridgertons struck. Even Season 3, LW talked shit about Colin being fake, so Penelope embarrassed him in front of the ton twice. And of course, she had an excuse, “I just wanted the old Colin back!” So you embarrassing him in front of the ton was gonna make him sweet and kind again? 😬

The woman he loves belittled him twice and clearly stands by it 'cause she’s not giving up LW, just not writing it under anonymity. 'So imma acknowledge that I hurt you, the person I love, but I’m not gonna do anything to fix it, but I want you to still support and love me, regardless of what I do,' is essentially what she's saying.

What utter shit, and then we got Pen stans/Polin fans: “Stfu Colin, your angst is ruining my fantasy ship, go kiss, finger, and fuck Penelope already.”

Oh Christ. It’s like whoever doesn’t cater to Penelope deserves the noose.

“Where’s supportive husband Colin? Where’s Colin ‘My Wife’ Bridgerton?”

Where’s supportive wife Penelope? Where’s Penelope ‘I Love You’ Bridgerton? She has declared her love but hasn't really shown it throughout season 3. Show > Tell. Action > Words. With the lies told to him from past to current, this guy undoubtedly has trust issues. How can he believe her? We the viewers saw Pen Hilton pining after Colin through season 1 & 2, but Colin himself doesn't know that she liked him before then. He even said that he thought she wouldn't feel the same about him as he did about her. So when the feeling is finally mutual, Penelope just doesn't do much. It's like she tells him, "I love you" just so he can shut his fucking piehole.

We've seen, despite Colin being upset, him still loving her, wanting her and working through the pain so he can look at Penelope and not immediately think of LW.

"B-B-But, uh, the entrapment comment was too harsh!"

First off, you people act like you have never said mean things to someone out of anger during a fight.

Second, like how you guys say LW is harsh but tells the truth(which is a complete lie, but nothing surprises me anymore with this fandom) that comment was harsh, but he told the truth. She did trap him. While he did ruin her previous proposal, he did chase down her carriage, but right after he proposed, she blabbed to the whole ton the next morning about the engagement(this showed how much the Bridgertons are morons, but I digress). If anything happened, it’d be hard for him to back out without everyone knowing and questioning his honor. It’d be his second time cutting off an engagement and it’d be his 3rd time being humiliated.

He asked if she wanted to be intimate, she immediately said yes. Eloise told her to tell him even before they had sex, but she didn't. Penelope knew Colin hated LW but still agreed to sex before she told him. She didn't even tell him, he had to found out tailing her carriage! So screw you freaks, that comment was well needed for her ass. As said before, Colin has been duped by the Featherington family so him lashing out and saying that is him telling her, 'Prove to me you're not like Marina." (She isn't. She's worse).

"Book!Colin was more supportive!"

Of course he was; LW didn't hurt him, his family, or anyone else. LW wasn't vicious like she is in the show. When Book!Colin found out about LW, him and Penelope were still friends, they weren't engaged, they didn't have sex; Book!Colin didn't hate LW. He was just jelly that Penelope made a legacy own her and he was there still purposeless at age 33(something the show tried to emulate but fell flat in a pile of horse shit). The situation in the show is way worse than what it was in the book. Book!Colin would hate Show!Penelope.

Where was Penelope's support when she saw that he was emotionally damaged by the LW reveal? Where were her attempts to mend the drift when she saw that he wouldn't sleep with her in their marital bed? Where was the comfort when she saw him lying on the couch, mentally worn out? She just passed by him and even suggested leaving in separate carriages. She did not support him when he was at his lowest, his own wife. Now if the show showed Penelope trying to talk to Colin and comfort him and he responded, "Give me more time.”, then fine.

But that didn't happen. He had to be the one to fix the relationship when she was the reason he was depressed. He never considered giving up on her, clearly with him still marrying her and sleeping on the couch they screwed on right outside their room door where he could’ve slept in another room in that huge ass house. He wanted her to try and reconcile but Penelope gave him nothing.

But he’s being too sulky and not supportive enough though Penelope ain’t returning the favor.

We get drowned with LW drama with the Polin fans admonishing Colin for not being a proper pet to Penelope.

Isn't this show named Bridgerton? What in the fresh hell?

He chose her over his own pride, pain and emotions. Penelope didn't do the same but people want to act like Colin isn't supportive or barely supported her, when in a relationship, it goes both ways. His purpose shouldn't be to prop up Penelope but that's what the show limits him to, F his feelings, f his mental health, girlboss Penelope deserves her man and her HEA as if he's a reward or a consolation prize, not a person deeply hurt by someone he thought he knew.

“He just needs to forgive her already, get over it!”

Y'all are trash for this. After all what Penelope has done to him, you want him to get over it so quick so you can have more cringe romantic scenes and soulless sex scenes. It took Eloise a year to forgive Penelope(and it happened in the dumbest fashion, but that's another can of worms). Just because they're together doesn't mean a speedy recovery. Actually it's worse 'cause they are together. He even told Eloise that she’s lucky she’s never been in love; it hurt that much.

The fact he chose to stay is already a big step of him getting over it, but that’s not enough it seems. You want him to get over the hurt she did to him, the lies, the loss of his own agency ‘cause like it or not, Colin still wanted to marry Marina even after knowing the truth but Penelope took away his decision to ensure his availability for her. She embarrassed his family a good number of times. But hey, get over it Colin.

He’s second when it comes to Penelope. He asked this beotch to give up the gossip column, a thing that caused him and others pain throughout the years, to be with him, forget the past and start their new life together. Nope, she chose her career. LW is power and she still wants that manipulative power so take the L from your wife Colin. Her ego won the day, not their love; Penelope is Colin’s first. LW is Penelope’s first, get over it Colin. It’s harsh af knowing you’ll never be first in the heart of the woman that you love.

If anyone needs to get over anything, it’s Penelope. She should’ve been got over Colin’s comment, now stew in her own shit for months; she’s not entitled to his feelings. She should’ve gotten over the damn gossip column that does more harm than good ‘cause if she’s such a great writer, then explore other avenues of writing. You’re already established, it’ll be nothing of you for your works to become popular since the ton already knows you’re a great writer.

The damage for Colin is deep but he must get over it to be the cushion for Penelope, for him to be in the shadows so Penelope can take all the shine ‘cause “feminism woo hoo!” She’s a career woman and Colin’s purpose is just to love Penelope and nothing more.

Penelope, Penelope, Penelope, it’s all about Penelope.

Their relationship shouldn't be imbalanced like it is. The ship is called POLIN. Colin is just as important as Penelope, but the show and even the fans don’t treat it as such. He’s turned to some irrelevant sidekick who’s an accessory for Penelope and his purpose: well of course it is Penelope.

The show made him publish his journals at the end to be like “see look, he does have a purpose of his own!”, though we rarely saw a lead up to that. It’s addressed once, the LW drama comes in, that part of him is buried until the final episode where it’s framed that his anger was jealousy all along, not him having a vendetta against LW for harming him and his loved ones.

Bullshit on top of bullshit.

Yeah, maybe he should’ve went up there and stood with her when she was giving her god awful speech, but his ‘If my only purpose in life is to love a woman as great as you’ toxic feminism speech would’ve just dulled it. Plus, I don’t think people know how abusive that speech is.

They should’ve stood together, Queen deus ex machina gives her pardon, and then he gives her a speech about how the wound is still there but he knows it’ll heal, to be honest with each other going forward, to put the past to rest and continue on into the future, hand in hand as Mr and Mrs. Bridgerton. Cringe, but at least love is the focus. Him being the man behind the woman instead of the man beside the woman undermined their love story and undermined the ridiculous feminism narrative too, sacrificing the equality aspect of both of it.

I’m just ranting at this point but anyway, this ain’t the Penelope show. Give Colin some fucking grace like you do your Mary Sue.