#i feel sick like this whole situation is fucking awful

[fitpacs]

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is story non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being; 1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so. 2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad. Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See the Masterlist for Summary. Contains usual tags.

Chapter title is from Growing Up by Fall Out Boy.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

You were not, and never had been, in the business of fighting your wars bloody. You fought them smart, and you fought them dirty. You wouldn’t call yourself callous; if anything, you could use a little more misanthropy in your life, but your moral compass was… subjective. You would steal bread to feed your family, you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught, and, as you had spent the last six months learning, you would quickly cover your hands in all the blood and grime in the world so that nobody else would have to.

Which was, unfortunately, not a figure of speech.

You let yourself lie in the mud, the cool texture soothing your always-warm skin, and fought the urge to sleep. You could hear someone shouting your name, strung together with an impressive array of obscenities and barely audible over whatever phase of the argument your companions were on, but god, you just could not bring yourself to give a fuck. Sure, the blood on your face was already dry, and the hay mixed into the mud itched and needled at your skin, but you’d live. You’d survived much worse, and at this point it was scientifically impossible for you to get sick, so everyone could just come back for you in a week or two. Maybe three. However long it took for the nightmare sheep to die and Vought’s stock prices to be lower in the mud than where you lay. Maybe a bit longer. Maybe until Homelander wasn’t a you problem anymore. Maybe they’d feed his corpse to the nightmare sheep when they came to get you.

You felt yourself smile a little at that thought. Dead Homelander, weak and pathetic; golden hair grimy; awful blue eyes milky and hollow. Dead Homelander, hands unable to hurt you, mouth unable to twist into that horrific smile. Dead Homelander, pretty face mauled and stupid outfit smelling like shit from being dragged in it to the barn. Dead Homelander, being torn to tiny pieces and eaten by sheep. Dead Homelander, the worst thing that ever happened to you, finishing his reign of terror shat out next to a creek somewhere.

Your smile covered your whole face at this point. It probably looked weird and creepy—the dire, life-or-death situation you were smack dab in the middle of not doing it any favors—but god, it was too perfect a daydream. You could live here forever, in the mud, with your fucked-up little fantasy on loop.

Tragically, you barely had twenty seconds in this ideal world when something hit you in the face.

“What the fuck?!" You sat up, ignoring the hand offering aid from Frenchie, glaring around the barn for your assailant.

“Bout time you join the land of the living, Love. We’ve got a fucking problem, and you don’t get to nap until it’s fixed.” Across the barn, Billy Butcher shot you a cocky grin that didn’t meet his eyes. To be fair, you weren’t sure it ever did.

“You didn’t have to hit me in the face, you ass.”

“That was me,” Frenchie cut in. “And you should thank me; Monsieur Butcher was going to shoot you.”

“You were going to shoot me?!”

“Would’ve felt the same either way, wouldn’t it?” Butcher shrugged.

“No! I’m not bulletproof, you dick!”

“You’d live.”

“So would MM if you shot him! I don’t see you gearing up for that!”

“Well, MM wasn’t sleeping in the middle of a crisis!”

You rolled your eyes, meeting Butcher’s glare from across the room. "Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to try and kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, Sweetheart, it’d look more like this.” Butcher’s arms started to move behind him, where you knew he kept his gun, and you braced yourself, hands fisted at your side.

“Hey!” MM stepped forward, arms raised. “You, if you shoot anyone, I will throw you out to the sheep, I swear to God. And you,” he turned his gaze from Butcher, “turn it down; it’s the middle of winter in Maine, and I feel like I’m standing in the goddamn sun.”

You blinked, realizing that the room had rapidly become impossibly hot, and everyone had moved far as possible from where you stood. The new, alien feeling that sat under your skin was alight and sharp, almost buzzing through you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back. MM lowered his arms, a look of what might have been concern flashing across his face, but turned away as the conversation returned to the murder-sheep issue.

You took a few steps back; nobody stopping you or asking for your contribution, fully allowing you to shrink into the wall. You felt your hand move up to your throat, trying to slow the tense, short breaths passing in and out of your body.

“Try thinking of something that calmed you down before.”

You jumped, not having noticed Victoria Neuman move to your side, and gave her a small frown as you responded. “What?”

“Something familiar. Anything that takes the edge off. Trust me,” she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It won’t get easier on its own. And that,“ she gestured to your hand. “Won’t help it long-term.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to drag your hand from your throat. Something happy. Something happy from before. What had been happy before?

Briefly, city lights flashed in your head, a song on a stereo accompanied by your own hum ringing silently in your ears. It vanished just as fast, but something in your chest loosened, and the feeling waned. Glancing over at Neuman, you saw a small nod of approval before she left your side, allowing you a second to steel yourself before following.

You found yourself standing next to Annie, who gave you a quick and, as far as you could tell, genuine smile before returning her attention to the tense conversation between Butcher and Stan Edgar. The former's voice had grown to a shout, somewhat ranting about a goose-chase for the bioweapon supposedly on this farm, the latter just watching with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Are you done, Mr. Butcher?” Edgar’s voice betrayed no anger or fear; the only signs of emotion on his face his tightened lips and raised brows. “Because if you are, I would finally be able to share my plan to get us out of this hellhole you dug us.”

Butcher scoffed, but before he could call Edgar either a cunt or a twat—both seemed equally plausible at the moment—the stone-faced man continued.

“While I will be the first to admit that an error was made in regards to a possible weapon against Homelander, I could not call today a complete waste. After all, you introduced me to this… charming young woman. The Anomaly,” he turned to you, and a shiver ran up your spine as he used your supe name. “Is going to help us.”

“Uh,” you paled under the pressing eyes of your team. “No. I don’t, uh, I… no.”

“Yes. You will,” Edgar said. “The V variant you carry is Homelander’s attempt to duplicate the original, the one used on Soldier Boy. Most likely a good attempt. And though the original V was unstable and less than suitable in any practical means, it was potent. I do not think I would be wrong in guessing you are just as strong as Soldier Boy, and likely immortal as well.”

“No.” Annie cut it in. “If you’re going to suggest we use her as fucking bait, the answer is no.”

“I was not going to suggest that, Ms. January, why would I waste such a good product on sheep bait? I am proposing that she simply eliminate our issue. I hear sheep catch fire quite easily.”

Everyone was looking at you now. Waiting for you to step forward and say something, anything. But you were frozen, mouth slightly agape, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You saying yes, and failing to do anything but start a forest fire, the barn burning around you as everyone remained trapped inside. You saying no, and the sheep breaking in and eating everyone alive. You saying yes, but losing control and hitting someone, watching them burn to ash as they screamed. You saying no, and everyone just rotting away in the barn; you yourself unable to do the same. The silence hung in the room, taunt with the way breathing had become labored in your chest, and you thanked a god you didn’t believe in as Annie stepped forward.

“She can’t control it,” she told Edgar. “We’ve been working on it for months, and she’s gotten better, but she can’t. It’s more complicated than it usually is, and it’s new.”

“Well, then I guess we should start to pray she gets lucky. I simply will not die in a barn in Maine, and unless anyone else has a plan, I must insist we start moving. Before the structural integrity fails us, and we all become dinner.”

The room was quiet for another moment, Annie looking as if she wanted to argue, but MM spoke first, his voice laced with reluctance.

“He’s right. We don’t have time to come up with something better.” He sighed, turning to you. “You’re the best bet we’ve got.”

“Still a shit bet,” Butcher muttered.

You agreed.

But Edgar was right.

“Everyone will need to stay inside,” you said softly. “Even if it works, this could get… messy.”

Murmurs of agreement were made, and you turned to Kimiko. “You’re the strongest,” you told her. “You can open and close the door the fastest. Crack it open, I’ll run through, and slam it as fast as you fucking can.”

She nodded, moving to the barn's entrance. As she passed you, she paused, giving your arm a small squeeze and you a small smile before she continued. You smiled back, trying to ignore the flash of her anxiety running through you at the touch. Everyone else began to move to the opposite side, hiding pointlessly behind hay and barrels. Neuman paused, though, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Something calm,” was all she said before turning to follow Edgar.

Something calm.

City lights. Music. Cheap burgers and cheaper beer. Carefree smiles. Music.

You stood before the doors, giving Kimiko a small thumbs up. She raised her hand, fingers falling from five to four, from four to three.

Two.

One.

You sprinted forward, waited for the sound of a slam behind you, and let go.

The world lit up.

It felt like a hurricane was spilling out of you, like a part of you was being ripped out and launched away. You could see the fire, but not quite feel it. If anything a chill had set itself through your veins, your skin becoming flushed not from heat, but exhaustion. Already darkness was creeping into your eyes, the effort to control the flames splitting the sky taking a toll. It was like a volcano trying to control its eruption, if any of its magma was under the control of the mountain.

But you had to. You could pass out after; you could sleep for a hundred years, but right now you had to control it.

The blood and muck on your skin had been long seared off, the clothes on your back turning into foul-smelling smoke. Your job was long finished now, nothing but bone and sinew remaining of the sheep, but a new problem emerged.

You couldn’t stop. You were burning and burning and burning, and the feeling in your skin wasn’t dulling, but growing. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline, yanking you up and up, away from relief.

Something calm, Neuman’s voice echoed in your head, and you closed your eyes, trying to hear that long-gone music and see those phantom lights.

It wasn’t working. And you were only getting closer to an edge, a drop into something you’d been so careful to avoid. It was eating you, pushing you further and further. You'd jump into the freezing water of the river but it would just evaporate. You’d bury yourself in the mud but it would just boil, feeding into itself.

Sing, a small part of you begged the rest. Just sing. No use hiding yourself if you’re dead.

You gave in, and began to hum. An empty tune, your voice on key but strained. Slowly, you felt yourself come to, your body returning to your control. You followed the song to the end, and as it ended, just before you collapsed on the ground, relief rushed through you. The fire had lingered, a saving grace from your song. You hadn’t felt any effects, with no hallucinations plaguing your vision before it went dark.

————

The first thing you realized when you woke up was that someone had moved you from the dirt to rest against a tree. The second was that you were no longer naked. Someone had apparently managed to find you clothes, and though they were itchy and a few sizes too big, you were still grateful. The third was that you smelled like shit. You had thought you were covered in blood before, but that now seemed as if it had been bubbles and floral perfume. One might have thought thoroughly barbecued sheep would’ve smelled at least tolerable. They would’ve been wrong. Because you were covered in what of it hadn’t dissipated into smoke, and you smelled like a dumpster full of rubber and fish.

The only person who would come near you was Frenchie, who had forsaken his sense of smell years ago, and had evidently dressed you and pulled you to where you currently sat. Everyone else stood closer to the fence, waiting for their ride back to New York to pull up on the dirt road. You sat alone, eyes still drooping, startled out of your own head as Edgar’s voice cut through the air.

“I must say, I am glad to see my faith in you was not misplaced.”

"Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking up at where he stood, only a few feet away. “I wouldn’t ask for an encore.”

“I am afraid I may have to. In our prior introduction, it seems you deeply undersold your capabilities.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t have time for self-evaluation when I was being kept in a fucking dungeon.”

Edgar sighed. “I must apologize for that. Though I was not made aware of Homelander’s little escapade, I recognize that you might feel as though I hold some blame.”

“Not an apology,” you muttered. “And I find that hard to believe.”

“Unfortunate, but I cannot force you to accept the truth.” He looked you up and down once before continuing. “And regardless, it is not what I am here to say.”

“I was wrong only once today, and it was when I said you were just as strong as Soldier Boy. You are not. You are much, much stronger. Not physically, of course, but overall. Overall, your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. I know you wish him dead, I would imagine you prefer it to be painful, and very few deaths inflict the suffering felt when one is burned alive. I suggest you learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. You were looking for a weapon, and I am telling you that you are it. Do not waste yourself.”

And he walked away, leaving your mouth open and your eyes wide. You stood to follow him, painfully pulling yourself to your feet, but made only a few steps before you felt a rock hit your back, and you whipped around to find Frenchie behind you, holding a hose.

“Starlight suggests you take a shower before our drive back,” he said, gesturing to the hose.

You blinked, looking back at Edgar, only to watch him be loaded into an armed van. Your brow wrinkled, a part of you wanting to chase the car down and demand Edgar elaborate, but you just turned back to Frenchie with a sigh.

“Sure, just count down before you–“

You cut yourself off as the freezing water hit you in the face.

Thankfully, Frenchie had thought to bring a towel—a gross, possibly moldy towel—but a towel nonetheless, and he handed it to you the moment the hose-down was finished. As his arm stretched out, you noticed a deep gash poking out from his sleeve.

“I can fix that,” you gestured to him. “I mean, I’ll have to touch you, but I won’t tell anyone what I feel, and you won’t have to let MM give you stitches.”

Frenchies frowned, looking at his arm as if only he now noticing his injury. “Are you sure? You must be tired, and–“

“I’ll be fine. Won’t hurt me for more than a few seconds.”

He hesitated, but gave you a nod, rolling up his sleeve before offering his injury to you. You took a deep breath and placed your hand over the wound. It hit you fast, it always did, the onslaught of emotions. You were suddenly twice as tired, a powerful and painful guilt sitting on your shoulders and a self-loathing that was familiar, but not yours, carved itself into your chest. After a second to adjust, you started to work. Your own arm, mirror to Frenchies, began to sting as the skin turned raw and red. You bit your tongue, ignoring it and focusing on keeping yourself going until the cut was gone, the skin was healthy, and there were no signs of any issues in the first place.

“Huh,” Frenchie stated at his unmarked arm, glancing at your own, which was already fully healed itself. “Merci.”

“No problem,” you offered him a grin. “Just don’t tell Butcher you accepted my evil supe healing.”

“You do not,” he frowned slightly. “You do not feel everything, yes? Just, simple, children’s emotions?”

It was your turn to frown. “Children’s emotions?”

“Oui. Joy, fear, sadness. No more.”

Oh. You hesitated to answer, debating if it was worth the lie. It would make him feel better, you reasoned with yourself.

But he wouldn’t trust you, a little voice whispered. And he’ll hate you.

You settled on the truth. You didn’t think you could stand another person hating you.

“No, I feel… everything,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying before. I won’t tell anyone.” You paused, watching his face carefully as you continued. “I won’t tell Kimiko.”

A look of shock passed over his face, but Frenchie nodded. “Good. Good. Tres bien,” he gave you a grateful look. “Merci.”

“Anytime,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, and the two of you returned to your group just as your ride pulled up. As you loaded into the car and began the long, tense drive, Edgar’s words replayed on loop in your head.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. Learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. Do not waste yourself.

Do not waste yourself.

You thought back to the last time you saw Homelander. Though it had been from a distance, and he had not even known you were there, your body had frozen. Fear, white-hot and all consuming, had coursed through you. You had almost passed out from it. If you had been face-to-face with him, it might have killed you all on its own.

Do not waste yourself.

You couldn’t fight Homelander. You just couldn’t. You could be capable of overpowering him tenfold, and you still wouldn’t be able to fight him. You knew, in your heart, that his eyes would meet yours and you would be sent right back into that tiny white room, feel his hands holding you down, feel that hollow, empty hopelessness leak from you into the air.

But he needs to die, a small voice whispered in your head. And you’re the Anomaly. You could kill him. You’re the only one who could stop him forever, make sure he never hurts anyone, ever again.

No. No, you couldn’t be the only one. Yes, the biochem weapon had been a bust, and no one else could possibly rival Homelander and come out of it alive. But there had to be other options.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s.

Do not waste yourself.

An idea started to form in your head. A terrible idea. A reckless and dangerous idea. But an idea all the same. And as it became fully formed, you managed to convince yourself more and more that it might somehow work.

Now all you had to do was convince everyone else.

——-

“No. No fucking way.”

The air in the meeting room was tense, mouths hanging open in shock. MM was glaring at you with a disdain you had previously only seen directed at Butcher, Butcher watched at you with a reverence you hope to never see on his face again, Grace Mallory looked all at once disgusted, intrigued, and impressed, and President-Elect Singer frowned as he listened, but gave you a nod to continue regardless.

“I know it’s crazy, but the problem last time was that you couldn’t control him, right? And I could. You can have us isolated, making sure we're out of the public eye and away from any possible collateral until you need us. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him in line, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

“I, for one, think this is an amazing idea. Best one I ever heard,” Butcher grinned at you. “Worst case scenario, it goes sideways, he kills her, we knock him out, and everyone still wins.”

“What part of ‘he wouldn’t be able to hurt me’ don’t you understand?” You snapped back.

“What if he blasts you with his fucking reactor?” MM pushed. “Makes you just another human? What’s your plan then?”

“That wouldn’t work on me,” you responded dryly.

Butcher snorted, but Mallory raised an eyebrow.

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“One of the tests that was run on me was putting me in a room and blasting it with nuclear energy. They dropped Hiroshima on me, and it did jack shit. Soldier Boy throwing a temper tantrum won’t be any different.”

“And how do you think you could control him?” Singer asked.

“I can burn up to 5500 degrees Celsius. That’s hotter than a bomb. Won’t kill him, will knock him the fuck out. And it’ll hurt.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Butcher mused. “It’s fuckin' perfect.”

You glowered at him. “Stop helping me.”

MM looked at Mallory. “The fact that America’s number one unstable asshole,” he gestured to Butcher. “Is on board should be enough to tell you how stupid this is.”

“Number two unstable asshole,” you said under your breath.

“Thanks, Love,” Butcher winked at you.

“Yeah well, don’t be so pleased. You’re only just losing to Homelander.”

Butcher shrugged, and you returned your attention to Singer. “Sir, please trust me. I, more than almost anyone, know how dangerous this could be. But Homelander is more dangerous. We needed a weapon,” you echoed Edgar’s words. “This is it.”

Singer nodded slowly, and MM scoffed.

“You can’t be seriously considering this. He’s a fucking unstable asshole murderer and a goddamn liability. What if we wake him up, she can’t control him, and he gets free?”

“We said whatever it takes,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t be pitching this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I can control him, I promise.”

“You’d bet your life on it?” Mallory asked.

“My life?” You snorted. “In a heartbeat.”

Mallory sighed. “Then fine,” she shot a look to Singer. “I’ll sign off if you do.”

“Sir,” MM said, sounding almost desperate. “I am begging you, do not do this.”

Singer just shook his head slightly. “Desperate times, they make you do desperate things. If I saw another way, I’d take it, but for now we’ll have to make do. I approve the request.”

“Thank you, sir.” You gave Singer a grateful nod, ignoring the searing feeling of MM’s anger.

“Don’t thank me, girl. If this goes south, it’s your head. Grace, set up a safe house for them ASAP, if I’m signing off on this I want it moving fast.”

Mallory nodded. “It’ll take a few days. We’ll have to transport him there before we wake him up.”

“Do whatever you have to,” Singer said as he stood to leave. “If this is our only shot, we can’t afford to miss.”

[anisespice]

heyy

can i request hanma w reader who has abandonment issues? if you don’t write for that kind of topic it’s fine!!(:

take care!!<33

of course! thank u for the request anon, sorry for the delay <3 had to do some more research into the topic, and brush up on my hanma lol hope you enjoy :)) !!

pairing: hanma x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, MDI, crude jokes, violence, cringy/cornball behavior lol and hanma gets his own warning, not proof read, sorry for any errors!! and i think that’s it :)

notes: SO SORRY FOR TAKING LITERALLY A WHOLE YEAR TO MAKE THIS ANON, i wanted to do a little bit of research on the topic (ended up learning a little about myself LMAO) but it’s finally done! i’m happy with how it turned out, and i figured this format would work perfectly, so i hope you enjoy!! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow, @captaincyberqueen

I struggled with the idea of how Hanma would be like with someone with abandonment issues/anxious attachment. At first, I figured he’d be the absolute worst in terms of handling someone with such an intense need for validation and reassurance, but after some further contemplation I realized how he’d be the absolute best—To the most unhealthily healthy degree, if that makes sense. Let me explain:

“yo, who’s blowing up your phone?”

“jeez, your s/o again? talk about excessive”

“couldn’t be me, bro. if i was you, i’d set a boundary-”

hanma wouldn’t miss a beat by giving them a dangerous grin and say, “i’ll a set a boundary for your fucking teeth if you say another word about my s/o.”

then, in the same beat, he’ll answer your call with a whole different energy, like, “hey doll, my love, my sweet, my sexy” something corny like that

you’d express that he said he’d be back around 9, and it was pushing 9:30…

he’d chuckle fondly, “aw, you miss me that bad? you’re obsessed, doll, it’s adorable.~”

the guys with him would watch in shock as the usually violent, and quick to annoyance, shuji hanma was…understanding? patient??

i hc hanma to be so so so patient with you whenever you get that intense clingy feeling, or talk yourself into thinking he’s sick of you and your neediness

like

homie WANTS you to want him

even to an unhealthy attached degree, sign him up, yes ma’am, yes ham, yes turkey

if you do get into those moods of feeling like he’ll leave you, TRUST that he’s gonna feed into it just a little bit (he’s a bit of a sadistic bastard) only to shower you with every possible reassurance until you are drowning in him him HIM

“why you cryin’, hm? i said i’ll be back, what, you think i’ll just up and leave? never come back?”

“hm, maybe i should do that, make you miss me a little more, yeah?”

but, once he sees you’re really torn up about the thought, he’d gather you in his arms with a small, teasing grin, kissing your tears away and telling you how silly you’re being

“baby, i’d rather get shot in both of my legs than ever think of leaving you”

“you couldn’t get rid of me even if you begged”

“no more cryin’, kay? i hate seeing you cry…unless it’s for different reasons” he’d suggest, earning a weak hit to his arm for being a pervert

he’d snigger, holding you up until your legs wrapped around his waist, “how bout you just come with me then, hm?”

he’s not perfect, far from it, but he tries

he’ll tease, and poke, and push but he always has his moments where he takes your situation deathly serious

like

let someone talk shit about you in anyway, whether it’s about how you need to touch him a lot, or constantly text/call just to hear his voice, or accuse him of this that and the third, just let someone TRY it and he finds out about it

“man, i don’t know how he puts up with them”

“yeah, his s/o clearly has some issues..”

“god forbid he’s gone for more than ten minutes, it’s like they’re some kind of parasite-“

the air in the room shifts DRASTICALLY when they eventually notice hanma standing there, with you at his side looking more than upset

how long he’d been there didn’t matter…the damage was done as soon as those idiots spoke your name

if looks could kill, they’d be playing uno w the devil right about now and losing

hanma looked rather calm. but his eyes told a different story as the gold shined bright with malicious intent

he slowly grinned, tilting his head “oh? don’t stop on our account. keep talkin’. i wanna know what else you think.”

none dared to even blink

you sniffled, embarrassed, ready to bolt out of there, but hanma’s grip on your hand doesn’t falter, merely pulling you closer as he rested his chin on your head

you wiggled for a moment, but hanma wasn’t letting you go anywhere

he called out your name, making you stop as he turned you in his hold to have you look him in the eye

“stay right here. i want you to see just how much i love you. my little parasite.~”

hanma had you stand there and witness what happens whenever someone dares to speak on you and your relationship, solidifying his devotion and loyalty to you and you only

as those guys laid in a pool of their own blood, hanma still took the time to shower you in love and his undivided attention

he’d wipe your tears with bloodstained hands and kiss you hard on the mouth

“you’ll never be too much for me, [_____].”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[jewish-vents]

i’m a teacher and i had a kid draw a swastika in my classroom on like. the second day of school. so one of our admin came in to two of my classes the next day to talk about it. and she started by telling this story about how she had a hijabi student. and a boy in the class was “really curious about what her hair looked like.” and had the students guess what happened next (pulled the hijab off, gross and awful) and how that might have made the hijabi student feel. at this point i’m sitting at my desk like “it’s been five minutes are we going to talk about the swastika” and then she finally goes “yesterday someone drew a symbol that represents division. and hate. and those aren’t things we stand for” and a kid (of course) was like what was it? and this fucking woman turns to me and goes “are you comfortable sharing what it was?”

?????? i thought that’s why you were here?? i thought you were here to explain why swastikas are not okay, and we are seven minutes into your little presentation and you haven’t said the word swastika or even jewish. so i said it was a swastika and several of the kids didn’t know what that was. which was disturbing on its own as i teach middle school but i digress. i said no way in hell am i drawing one so my admin looks at me and is like “could you google a picture?”

can’t believe i did this but i didn’t know what else to do in the moment so i pulled up a google image search of swastikas and projected it on the board. at no point did the admin say “hey you can take that down now” it just sat up there until i got uncomfortable and sick to my stomach enough to close it myself. and then she came back the next period and did the WHOLE song and dance again (no jewish, no antisemitism, not even the word NAZI which is insane to me) and STILL told the opening story about the hijabi girl even with two hijabi girls sitting in the class this time who were clearly uncomfortable.

this was like three weeks ago and it’s been quietly bothering me for a while and i finally told my (nonjewish) work friends about it and they were all like “holy shit that’s so fucked that she asked you to do that” and i told my (jewish) partner and he went “she couldn’t have picked up a fucking marker??” and that was when it really hit me.

maybe she didn’t want to be in a situation where she drew a swastika on a jewish teachers whiteboard. ok. but she apparently didn’t consider the WORSE implications of asking that same jewish teacher to google an image of a swastika and project a google image search of a page FULL of swastikas on her board.

AND she never once checked in with me after that. she left the class without talking to me again and hasn’t said a word about it since. i remember i even asked her “do you want me to leave the room” beforehand because im thinking i don’t want to have to look at swastikas but she asked me to stay because “the impact is real and they need to see it” which. uh. i’ve been pushing this experience down for weeks bc at the end of the day it “wasn’t that bad” but like. holy shit. she really wanted to put my trauma on display for the students instead of just asking me to leave and explaining what a swastika is/showing them one. and it took her nearly ten minutes to get to the actual swastika!! i’m just. so done

.

[isa-ghost]

Can we please keep in mind that given what we know, there's a strong chance plenty of Wilbur's friends were blindsided by this, and could very well be grieving that someone so close to them turned out to be this horrific?

Given we KNOW Wilbur meticulously kept up a facade socially and publicly, there's a strong chance they had little to no idea he was that way unless they personally witnessed the behaviors. That's horrifying.

I personally know what it's like to have someone you talked to and hung out with near-daily for YEARS to turn out to be a disgusting, lying, fake and awful person. You feel betrayed, sick, angry, confused, devastated. You need time to emotionally process that. ESPECIALLY before doing something like making a public statement about "your stance" on the matter. Some of the people we know felt like family to Wilbur, genuinely, even despite all the jokes that got old so fast within the community. And they could've gone the whole time not knowing all this.

That's not something you get over instantly. That's not something you can think clearly through right away. Anyone demanding a nuanced and well-thought out statement rejecting and condemning Wilbur ASAP for their own satisfaction are stupid as hell. You don't care about the situation, you're fishing for internet points by being ready to pull the trigger on anyone who doesn't say something the moment you expect them to. You care more about Looking like you have humanity by attacking abusers and abuse apologists, instead of Actually having humanity in realizing this has a real impact on real people with real emotions.

They're fucking grieving. And we've seen from plenty of them who thought of him as a friend that Have said something already that they are also ANGRY.

Those who have yet to speak up are likely still processing their emotions. Or processing what they want to say. Or perhaps are even personally affected by the situation as victims of abuse themselves, and therefore NEED to step back before they say anything, if they say anything at all.

They could also be saying something where we can't see. They don't owe the public shit, anything they'd say wouldn't be for us. We aren't entitled to their thoughts or their explicit rejection of Wilbur. Which is Also why anyone demanding instant statements from anyone is a fucking moron. They don't need to "prove" to us that they don't support Wilbur anymore. That's not what anything to do with this situation is about. That's not what matters here.

What matters is they've personally given Shelby their support; which is 10x more meaningful given directly to her rather than in public where it's also largely to please anyone scrutinizing them. What matters is they've stopped engaging with Wilbur, removed his presence from their personal content (ex: Phil removed his point redemption audios that had Wilbur in them), etc. Actions speak louder than words.

Some of you are just fucking lazy and don't want to look deeper, you want convenient and perfectly crafted statements for your satisfaction and comfort right away.

TLDR: think fucking harder before you open your mouth about any cc's reaction to Wilbur or his statement. These people were friends with him (many are also friends with Shelby!), trusted him, etc. There's nuance to situations like these whether you like it or not, and ccs saying anything where you can see it at the exact moment you want them to is not something any of us are owed.

Fuck Wilbur. Fuck his garbage statement. But if you're more focused on hounding every cc who ever knew him publicly to cater to you for one reason or another the second you want them to, fuck you too.

[icarusredwings]

Rewatched Deadpool 1. Took notes.

WARNING: Discussion of mental illness topics, ending yourself, trauma, violence, etc.

Civil debate/ conversation welcomed. Sorry its super long. I think a lot.

Notes:

You know what? We see Wade coloring a lot. What's our status on just giving him cartoons snacks and coloring books? He needs it.

I think we all forget how actually impressive this man is. I just watched this cancer having fucker do like 50 flips.

Whatta man is so Logan Howlett coded.

"Bad deadpool" "good deadpool!"

Deadpool has been helping kids for a while. He terrified a little creep while he himself was a huge creep.

Missed up his words and Vanessa smiled at him. With that "aw hes cute" kinda thing.

When talking about their childhood (whether he's lying or not, hes not about the uncle) and he outdos her so much that she giggles.

The first date he takes her ducking skiiballing instead of yk prostitute stuff

Hes so romantic oh my god.

Theyre giggling and joking like all the time. Personally thanksgiving is my favorite scene before he proposes with a fucking ring pop.

I shouldn't laugh but the way he said "wtf" when passing out

Vanessa instantly jumping to "what can we do? There has to be something" makes me instantly respect her as a chronically ill person myself. Partners who medically defend each other make me so happy because a lot of people divorce their partners when they get "too sick" let alone dont show up to specialist appointments.

Him accepting death so quickly is a sign of mental illness, and you can see him be confused on why shes so upset. Shes crying and hes sitting here like "why do you care if I die or not?" He physically feels so unloved that he just doesn't get it.

"I dont know. Might further the plot. " Oh, so you know about wades little mental tv show he puts on in his head as a coping mechanism?

Also... Weasel.. YOU KNOW WHO ELSE IS A WEASEL!? Shit sorry wrong movie.

Its not until now that hes crying because he realizes if he does then no more vanessa. We already know hes very co dependent and many people only care about themselves BECAUSE of other people. Which is also considered a sign of wanting to ☠️ self.

The whole "superheros are all lame ass teachers pets" thing is so funny if you think about how much beef he has with the xmen when in reality I have a feeling Wade would love charles in a "Ugh im in trouble with Daddy wheel chair again." COUGH "old bald heavens gate looking mother fucker" COUGH

"Thats not nice" No. But wade is genuienly not nice either.

"This is embarrassing. Please stop, " Colosus said what we all were thinking.

Bro literally cut/broke off his own hand and didn't whine a single time. If you ever. EVER hear this man express pain it is 99.9% his own choice to let you know that it hurts.

During his changing process, Francis says "the only thing that doesn't survive is a sense of humor" wade says "we'll see about that" and smirks.

What also makes sense to me is that he did NOT break easily. They did test after test after test and this man still wasn't breaking. His spirit is incredibly strong and as much as we enjoy joking about how stupid he is, Wade is extremely resourceful.

Its like he has created an alter ego of humor and kindess in order to keep up with the fact he DOES understand how fucked up this world is and whats happening/happened around him but refuses to acknowledge it until he has too. Ussually for survival.

Ive seen theories that he has DID or a type of Scizophreania and the voices in the comics are obviously in his head. I have mixed feelings about it because even his thoughts have thoughts of their own in some cases. Talking to no one is often a sign of abadonment, esspecially in children who are school age and get lonely when taken from their families to attend school. Its almost as if wade never lost his and hes subconsiously talking to himself to keep himself calm/ from panicking in high stress situations.

"But then how does he know hes in a movie" thats the thing. He doesn't. Hes pretending to cope. Main charaters cant die and until he dies he has this mental show/movie going on to keep himself from realizing all of this is true. That this is reality.

Cunningham mentions breakfast for his kids and suddenly, wade wakes up. Hes not joking anymore. This is a "oh shit... I wanna make breaktsst for my kids too... with my wife vanessa" moment.

"So whats wrong with him?"

Diiiiiddd we all forget about scout master kevin? Uncle? Dad? That fact that the oxygen was physically taken from his brain and was given Co2 poisoning over and over? For multiple days? This is the same man who blew himself up just to escape because they told him he wasnt going to see vanessa again.

And then he fought a guy naked, survived the entire building burning down, and now is so insecure about his looks that he thinks he made the baby cry in the street.

Theres people staring at him, flinching away, called names, people see him and cross the street. (So when he tells Logan that he knows his pain when it comes to public settings, hes not lying)

Blind Al is literally the reason deadpools suit is what it is. Why the idiot thought white was gonna be a good idea- See above. Unlike Al, who could smell the blood/ bleach.

I really love al. She's like the adult Toph.

"I hear everything in this duplex." OH, you poor thing.

"The guy that turned me into this freak-"

Al: *bitch im blind face*

As far as she's aware, he looks normal. Which is beautiful when you think about it, but it's funny when you think about the fact that he's so insecure about his face that he purposly found a blind room mate that couldn't judge him.

And they cuddle while he gets dating advice from grammie 🥹❤️

I really like how the entirety of Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children (HellHouse in the comics) stood up for Weasel. They're murderers. But they're family.

What they did to vanessa was straight fucked. Her fiance up and leaves without notice, youre just trying to work and live your life, you get kidnapped.

Negasonic is so cool. I love them.

Dopinder (The cab guy) is so cool too. I love him too. Kill that guy in your trunk. "Mr. Pool" reminds me of Tom holland spiderman.

"It is not boy band >:(" Suurreee it isn't.

"Wheres your duffle bag?" You mean his dollar general store tree hello kitty book bag filled with guns?

"Cue the music" *no one even gives a fuck at this point when he talks to the imaginary cams*

Negasonic mid battle: Hold on- "Hey Yukio, yeah I just gotta fuck shit up real quick, ttyl?"

"Sure thing! <3 You go baby!"

I dont know anything about negasonic but she reminds me of Gambit with her energy powers.

Like I said. Hes smart when its a serious situation because he immediately threw his katana into the glass so vanessa could breathe, only to immediately turn sappy and childish again when he sees her stab francis with it. Heart hands, is hallucinating because theres a knife in his brain (literally), sex joke. Etc.

Colossus shut the fuck up. Let this man kill him. He's hurt Soooooo many people. A bullet costs less then a dollar. His amount of therapy alone is going to be like *checks calculations* 80 billion.

"Not the nethers" Wade can and often does show proof of hurting but hed rather cut off his hand then let vanessa punch him in the balls. "Ow- owie 5000"

Hello Hugh Jackman.

After not seeing each other for so longer they instantly go back to the fibbing. "I live in the house with 12"

"You live in a house??" Funny guys get the girls. I should know. My wife says im super funny (yes im in therapy)

Pinky promises really matter to him.

Hes such a silly billy he brought out the phone with their song on it. God what a romantic idiot.

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Pretty As A Picture - Chapter 10

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Theme: Soulmates - Feeling the connection as soon as you see each other.

Summary: When Bucky fell from the train, their soulmate was told he was gone. When Steve Rogers disappeared into the ice, their soulmate was again told one of her soulmates were gone. But she didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Committed to a mental health institute, she dies of a broken heart. That's at least what the hidden S.H.I.E.LD files say, but if that's the case than why is there a photo of her. A photo that shows her side by side two redhaired Avengers.

Warnings will be per chapter.

For this fic reader will be British, but let your imagination replace if needed.

Chapter Summary: The reader wakes up.

Chapter Warning: Mentions of hospital care.

“So, I’m gonna make it really clear, you’re going to have your work cut out with her. She’s stubborn, a know it all, unfortunately because she does know it all, photographic memory and all that, the situations she sometimes gets herself in aren’t always great but she always and I mean always has a way out. She doesn’t eat right. Her sleep pattern is worse than a teething toddler and believe me I know” He said looking down at Nathanial in his arms, “but she is fiercely loyal, if you call her for anything, she could be having tea with a royal and she’d drop everything to save your ass or in Laura’s case so you can have a shower without a screaming child and take a nap in peace. She’ll hold you through your nightmares, be your biggest supporter and snap a guys neck if they’ve hurt you. She feels all her emotions at ten times the level we do. Sometimes that’s great, sometimes it’s really not. Now, I’m gonna ask you, don’t pursue this unless you’re sure. Please.”

“She’s our soulmate Clint, there’s no way we aren’t pursuing this.” Replied Steve.

“I know she’s your soulmate but….”

“But what?” Asked Bucky.

“She sometimes, well it’s not my place to say.”

Steve and Bucky both huffed in response. They’d been sick of those words over the last few days. When you’d gripped the bed rail and bent it right in front of them it was clear you were different in some way. Match that with carrying Pietro like you did, Steve and Bucky were sure you were like them. A super soldier.

When Helen Cho entered the room after you’d been sedated, and spoke quietly to Bruce as they set up the cradle, they didn’t miss Bruce’s whispered “accelerated healing” or the mention of having to possibly rebreak some of your bones as they’d have already have set wrong. When they asked Bruce the response was “it’s not my place to say”. The same words were uttered when Steve asked Natasha why her and Clint were her emergency contacts and next of kin.

“You know I’m sick of hearing those words.” Steve told Clint.

“You know what fine, fuck it, yes I know language in front of the baby. He’s heard worse. Natasha and Y/N are his godmothers, he probably knows the f bomb in six different languages already. Look she struggles with the whole soul mate thing.”

Bucky’s head snapped up.

“How so?” Asked Steve.

Before Clint had chance to answer you groaned from the bed, causing the three men to jump to their feet, Nathanial jostling in Clint’s arms.

“Lightsssss, bright light, bright light.” You groaned, squeezing your eyes tightly.

“Shit, I forgot, F.R.I.D.A.Y dim the lights.” Clint instructed. “Good morning you little gremlin.”

“Gremlin?” Steve asked. “Sweetheart can you hear us?”

“It’s from a movie.” Bucky answered “Don’t put it on your damn list, it’s awful. Babydoll?”

“It is not. It’s a cult piece.” Clint replied.

“Whatever. Doll, can you hear us?”

You groaned again and muttered Clint’s name. He pushed past Steve and handed him a wiggling Nathanial, squeezing your hand and stroking your face affectionately. Bucky wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Hey kid, I’m here, open your eyes, you’ve had us all worried. Laura’s even started knitting again, you know how she hates it, only does it to keep herself busy, and don’t get me started on Natasha. I thought we’d have to sedate her at one point.”

“Natty.” You replied as your eyes started to flicker open.

“She’s upstairs, probably already on her way down.”

Bucky huffed. He didn’t want everyone in here. He wanted to speak to you, hold you, take care of you, figure out how the hell you were here. You started to look around, still squinting, jumping when you saw you were in the Med Bay.

“Easy kid. You’re in the compound Med Bay. You've been out for three days.”

You started to fidget in the bed.

“Y/N, listen.” and he gently cupped your jaw, moving your face to look at him. “You’re gonna be OK kid, you scared the shit out of us all, but you’ll be OK. You’re in the compound. Only Banner and Cho have looked at you. OK?”

You nodded in reply, your eyes full of tears. Clint kissed your forehead.

“Pietro? Did he? Is he?”

“He’s alive. See?” Clint stood upright and pointed to the next room in the bay. You followed his pointing to see you were separated by a glass wall but sure enough there was Pietro. Wanda and Vision at his bedside. He waved weakly at you and you attempted to wave back.

“Careful sweetheart.” You glanced up at the voice, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Hi honey.”

Spotting baby Nathanial in his arms, you reached out and made a gesture for Steve to pass him to you.

“Gimme.”

“Y/N,” Clint said as he perched on the bed “really?”

“Baby, gimme please.” You looked up at Steve with puppy eyes, who realised he immediately had no defence against your sad face and he turned to Clint, not knowing what to do. You pushed out your bottom lip for added effect and looked back at Clint.

“Fine, but you’re gonna need to sit up a little. Clint replied, before gathering up some pillows.

You tried to push yourself up as much as possible and Bucky silently tried to help. Why were you ignoring them? Clint moved around to the side of the bed Bucky was at and placed a pillow under your arm, saying something about it being the best side as your drip was gone, before whispering to you.

“Maybe stop being a brat and acknowledge your soulmates.”

You shifted uneasily and glanced at Clint as he gave you a knowing look, before he gestured at Steve to come around with Nathanial.

“Hello.” You said quietly, not making eye contact.

“Babydoll” “Sweetheart.”

Bucky placed a kiss on your head as you side eyed him.

“Is this a good idea?” Steve asked as Nathanial wiggled in his arms some more. “You said yourself how unsettled he is.”

“Just watch.” Clint laid Nathanial in the crook of your arm, making sure the pillow took most the weight. Nathanial snuggled into you, taking out his pacifier to give you a drool filled grin.

“Hi baby.” You said softly. Nathanial snuggled down more and closed his eyes, gripping on to the blanket Clint had placed over him.

The three watched you fondly as Nathanial drifted off to sleep, as you stroked his face affectionately. Bucky and Steve both felt a lump form in their throat as they watched. Thoughts of what could have been and what could be filling their heads. White picket fences seemed so far away now but there was something about you, their soulmate, with a baby in her arms.

Clint slipped back discreetly from between the two and moved to the other side of the bed. Spotting Natasha and Bruce hurrying down the corridor he gestured for them to slow down and wait, nodding back at Steve and Bucky. Steve slipped his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky mirrored his actions in return.

“We got her back bud.”

Bucky went to speak but let out a sob instead, as tears began to run down his face. Steve pulled him into a hug. You side eyed them not really knowing what to do. Clint noticed your uncomfortableness and squeezed your hand affectionately as tears formed in your eyes. You leaned back into the pillows, shaking your head.

“It doesn’t make any sense.” You almost whispered. “I can’t be their soulmate.”

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@abaker74 @animegirlgeeky @calwitch @slowlyshycomputer @paasrin @cjand10 @otterlycanadian

[unforth]

We are one Iowa caucus into the absolute shitshow that is going to be the US 2024 elections, and I'm already sick of seeing takes downplaying the risk that Trump and his fascist followers represent.

Look. Around 1900, my mother's grandparents immigrated to the Lower East Side of New York City. They brought with them children born in Europe (Poland? Ukraine? which country they were in depends on what year we're talking about) - we're not 100% sure they were THEIR children, even, but there were three, and they were young, and they came. But my great-grandparents had siblings, parents, cousins, uncles, aunts, huge families. And while my understanding is that an attempt was made to convince those folks to move to the US, none of them ultimately opted to.

They all kept in touch as they were able, exchanging letters and pictures, but through World War 1, through the 20s, through the Great Depression, through the worsening situation in Europe in the 1930s, my entire extended family who chose not to immigrate...continued to stay.

I think we all know how this story ends.

I have an entire family photo album of people whose names I will never know, because after every single one of them died in the Holocaust, my great-grandparents and grandparents couldn't bear to even label them. And they were PEOPLE, poor, vibrant, eager to maintain connections with their loved ones abroad. One was a Klezmer musician, and we have photos of him with all the different instruments he played. They're so real on the page, and they all ended in ashes.

And you know how that started? Fascism started with every inch allowed, with every well-intentioned moderate who tried to maintain a middle position even as the whole ground shifted right beneath their feet and even "middle" became extreme, every "no that change isn't coming fast enough, I want instant full improvement NOW" liberal who felt that doing nothing was better than accepting a slower improvement in the (truly awful!) post-World War 1 living situation in Germany.

Most of the members of my extended family also downplayed the risks. They never imagined that the worst could happen to them. They never fathomed how bad things could become.

And now I have their example always before me to know and to scream:

I KNOW HOW BAD THINGS CAN BECOME. I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FAMILY THEN.

I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN TO MY FAMILY NOW.

People look at me like I'm crazy when I say I've got our passports ready (and have had since before the 2020 election).

Look. I don't know what will happen if Trump is elected, but there's a very real possibility he will, and he's been extremely clear about saying what he'll do. He did a lot of the things he said he'd do last time. I expect he'll continue to do the things he says he'll do. And the things he say he'll do will lead to the deaths of more people than we can imagine - in the US, in Palestine, throughout the world.

Don't tell me there's a middle ground here. Don't tell me I'm over-reacting. Don't tell me the worst won't happen. Don't tell me the risk is mild. Don't tell me we're safe.

We. Are. Not. Safe.

The lives of dozens, hundreds, of members of family were lost in the 1940s amid the horrifying statistic "6,000,000 dead Jews."

I will not let my life (as a Jew), my wife's life (as a disabled woman), my son's life (as a biracial boy), my daughter's life (as a biracial trans girl), be part of the statistics that come from our a second Trump presidency.

If you won't vote like YOUR life depends on it, vote like someone ELSE'S life depends on it, because IT DOES.

And if you can't even do that much, at least shut the fuck up and stop spreading your poison around. You're wrong. The danger is real. Downplaying it now won't make your conscience feel any clearer when it actually happens, and comforting everyone else downplaying it will just make you that much more complicit.

[goatcheesecak3]

I hate you too Pt.3

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x reader

Warnings: alcohol, brief mentions of nsfw

Fic type: angst, fluff

Summary: both trying to wrap your heads around the situation, you and Adam each reach out to your friends.

A/n: hello!! Probably the last part to this short series, I've had fun writing it though! Maybe I'll try a Lawrence fic next??? Who knows. Anyways, enjoy! :^)

Your heart sank. What the hell kind of sick game was Adam playing with you? Hooking up was one thing, but you'd both poured your hearts out to eachother, you though you had a real connection. You wiped tears from your eyes and gritted your teeth in anger. You needed a friend, a distraction. You called Mark.

"H- hey Mark" you spoke into the phone, sniffling a little and hoping it didn't sound like you'd been crying.

"What's up, y/n?" His voice sounded cheery.

"Look, I don't wanna put you on the spot or anything, man, but I uh... I'm having kinda a bad day, I was wondering if I could come over?"

"Hey, you know you're welcome anytime. Scott's coming over later to watch this lame slasher movie I picked up, it's gonna be a hoot. You should join us!"

His kindness was so jarring I'm contrast to the cold, unfeeling text you'd just recieved from Adam. It almost made you tear up again, but you held it together long enough to set a time, before hanging the phone up.

You made yourself a rather exquisite breakfast consisting of a cigarette, a beer, and several more cigarettes. Following this, you drifted in and out of sleep on the couch while watching episodes of beavis and butthead, and trying your hardest not to think about Adam.

When 6pm rolled around, you finally got yourself dressed and headed out to Mark's apartment.

...

After sending you that awful text, Adam had fallen asleep for a few hours. When he awoke, it was the evening. Despite a full day's rest, he didn't feel any better, in fact, he felt much worse. He knew he'd fucked up, he'd let himself step too far and now he was pretty sure your entire friendship was out the window, let alone any chance at a relationship. He knew deep down this was for the best, or at least he thought so? His head was swimming and he really couldn't make much sense of the whole situation. He had to bite the bullet, and call in for reinforcements in the form of his friend Scott. Adam knew full well that revealing the events that had transpired to Scott would come with a barrage of jokes and teasing, but at the end of it all, Scott was his friend and he'd help him make sense of it all.

...

"Yeah, I can meet you bro. I'm going to Mark's to watch this lame movie, I'll come pick you up and we can talk on the way. We're long overdue for a guy's night"

"Thanks, Man. Yeah, a guy's night sounds good"

Adam was beyond relieved that it would just be the three of them, he couldn't bear to face you right now.

At half six, Scott's beat up old Ford pulled up outside Adam's building, to find him already waiting on the curb, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"You got one of them for me?" Scott grinned as Adam climbed in.

"Always" Adam obliged, handing Scott a cigarette.

"So," Scott pulled off with a screech, "What did you wanna talk about?"

"It's about y/n"

"What, you hittin that or something?" Scott teased.

Adam's unexpected silence answered that question, as he shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"No. Way. No fuckin WAY dude. Mark totally owes me 50 bucks" Scott gave Adam an affectionate punch in the arm, briefly averting his gaze from the road to see what he expected to be a smug grin plastered across Adam's face. Instead, however, Adam's face told a story of guilt and confliction.

"What? You didn't her pregnant did you?" He sounded genuinely concerned.

"Nah man, nothing like that. It's just... ugh, I don't know, I think I like her? But like, I'd just break her heart if I went there" Adam stared straight ahead as he spoke.

"You don't know that, man just tell her how you feel. At the very least you'll get to see her naked a couple more times before you completely fuck it up." It seemed that Scott possessed the incredible ability to never take anything seriously.

"Yeah... I don't think i can do that. Like, I think I've pretty much nailed that coffin shut"

"Well you certainly nailed something," Scott held out his fist to Adam and grinned to himself.

"Dude, I'm serious"

"So am I! Dude, emotional bullshit aside, y/n's a fuckin smokeshow, and I'm proud of my boy for his achievements"

Adam bit the insides of his cheeks, but couldn't help the smile from creeping across his face. He knew the whole macho bullshit thing was gross and childish, but admittedly, he was kinda proud of himself for sleeping with you. He bumped Scott's fist.

"There he is" Scott chuckled, "so, now that we've got all this acting like a pussy out the way, you're gonna pick up your phone, call y/n and tell her 'I'll be at your place later with condoms and viagra, chug a couple energy drinks 'cause we're gonna go all night'" he joked.

"You know, I think that approach might be a little full on" Adam laughed. "But you're right, I gotta stop being a little bitch about this and tell her how I feel"

"Awesome. Me and Mark can help you plan how you're gonna do it tonight, but you owe us another guy's night if we do"

"How come?"

"Because you're totally acting like a chick"

"Shut up, man. You're an asshole, you know that?"

...

You'd been at Mark's apartment for a little while already, drinking beer and waiting for Scott to arrive.

"Does he know I'm gonna be here?" You asked casually

"You know, totally slipped my mind to tell him. Hell be here any minute, so I guess he'll find out when he arrives" Mark smiled.

As if to punctuate that sentence, the unmistakable sound of Scott's loud footsteps approached the apartment door, followed by a hefty knock.

Mark opened the door, to see both Scott and Adam waiting.

"Oh hey! Guess the whole gang's here" Mark smiled.

The two men entered the apartment, Adam's expression slowly turning to one of dread when he saw you sat on the couch.

"What the hell is he doing here?!"

"What the hell is she doing here?!" The pair of you exclaimed at the same time.

"Oh come on, not this again. Guys, just sit down, relax, have a few beers. I'm too tired to watch you two fight all night" Mark rolled his eyes.

"Won't be necessary" you said coldly, rising to your feet and attempting to barge your way past the men and out of the apartment.

"Ohhhh I don't think so, little lady" Scott scoffed, blocking your exit.

"Scott, I'm warning you, you know I could kick your ass" you bit.

"Be that as it may, you and Adam got a lot to talk about. Now Mark and I are gonna leave for a while, give you two some privacy, and you're gonna solve this" Scott said. Seeing Scott be the voice of reason was like seeing a unicorn, you couldn't believe your eyes.

"Why should I leave? This is my apartment?" Mark argued as Scott ushered him out

"Because you're gonna head down to the ATM and withdraw that 50 bucks you owe me"

"What?" The realisation set in and he turned to face you and Adam, "you two? No WAY!"

"Have funnnnn" Scott mocked in a sing-song voice as he guided a gobsmacked Mark out of the apartment, closing the door behind them on their way out.

The apartment was silent now, you and Adam both stood, stunned, staring blankly at eachother. You would have kept this stand off going on forever, if you weren't so drained. You threw yourself down onto the couch and sighed exasperatedly.

"This is so fucking humiliating" you muttered under your breath.

Adam sat beside you. You held your head in your hands, eyes glued to the floor, but you could feel Adam's gaze burning into you.

"Y/n, I-"

"No, it's fine, like I get it. Last night was a mistake, it didn't mean anything. You don't have to tell me again." You snapped, not wanting to relive the heartbreak.

Adam exhaled

"I didn't mean that" he said quietly, his voice sounding shameful.

Suddenly, something inside you snapped. You were furious, he'd completely devasted you, and now he'd changed his mind?

"Then what the fuck do you mean?!" You blurted angrily, "you hate me one minute, you like me the next. What the actual fuck is your problem, Adam? What is it you want? Because in case you hadn't realised, you've given me some pretty mixed signals in the last 24 hours!"

"I want you!" He yelled "I mean.. I want to be able to want you" his voice was soft, gentle even.

Yours was not.

"Oh my fucking GOD. Do you only talk in riddles or something? What next, do I need to solve a fucking treasure hunt to find your missing brain?!"

"Y/n, no, please just listen.. okay? I just- man I thought I'd have time to plan this" he exclaimed to himself, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Look, if I don't get a straight answer in the next five minutes I'm walking out that door" you said, calmer now.

"Okay.. okay.." Adam breathed slowly, he seemed to be trying to find the words.

"Look," he began, "I'm in the weirdest place emotionally right now, I've always struggled with being vulnerable, but I mean, I'm so much worse these days. Ever since... well, you know..." he bit the inside of his lip and looked ahead, his eyes filled with sadness.

"I'm still trying to get myself back, and I don't know if the part of me that can let people in is ready.

If I let you in right now, I'm scared that I'll only hurt you further down the line, and I could never ask you to just wait around for me to get better."

He stared at the floor and sighed, feeling quite sorry for himself.

You considered what he had said for a moment, before finally speaking, much gentler this time.

"So get better now"

"What? Y/n, it's mot that simple"

"Yes, Adam, it is that simple" you said, your tone kind, but firm. "You say you're trying to get better at letting people in, and in the last 24 hours you've been more emotionally honest with your arch nemesis than you would ever imagine. Sure, it doesn't exactly scream stability, but that's part of the process. You're making progress" you took Adam's hand and brushed your thumb across his skin reassuringly.

"It's not gonna be easy, but if you don't take this chance and let me in then you're not moving forward".

Adam let out a half hearted chuckle, and wiped a few tears he hoped you hadn't seen from his eyes.

"I hate the fact that you're always right"

"Get used to it" you smiled warmly, giving him a playful nudge.

"Okay... so in the spirit of moving forward" he gulped, "would you uhh... be free for date sometime?"

He smiled sheepishly, nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket. You noticed that his eyes seemed to look extra sparkly, as if there was hope and excitement in them for the first time in a while.

"I'm free right now" you giggled, placing your hand on Adam's cheek and leaning in to kiss him.

Adam's hands held onto your waist as he leaned into the kiss, gradually pushing you back onto the sofa. He kissed you deeper now, more hungrily, his fingertips were just brimming the hem of your shirt, when...

"Aaaand the two of you can go continue that "date" literally anywhere but my sofa" Mark exclaimed, bursting into the apartment, Scott following giggling like a schoolboy.

"Were you assholes listening through the door?!" You squealed, jumping up and adjusting your shirt.

"Hey, I didn't wanna, but Mark needed proof that he lost the bet!" Scott laughed, barely able to contain himself.

"Dude! Come on, that was priv- wait.. what bet?" You asked, more curious than annoyed by this point.

"I bet Mark that you and Adam secretly liked eachother, and now I'm 50 bucks richer" Scott said proudly.

"Never would've imagined you guys together" Mark admitted, "but you know what, I like this little dynamic. It's sweet, or at least it is when you're not tryna bang on my couch" he teased.

"Sorry about that, man" Adam chuckled, his cheeks reddening.

"Now, come on you crazy kids," Scott said, in a slightly patronising, but good natured tone, "get your asses down to some restaurant or something where you can sit and make googly eyes at eachother before me and Mark throw up"

...

You and Adam walked down the street after leaving Mark's apartment. Your hands brushed against eachother, and without words they were interlinked. Just to think, a couple days ago you would have thrown up at the thought of holding Adam's hand, but now it was all you wanted to do.

"So... a restaurant, huh?" Adam said, swinging your arms slightly.

"Hm" you tilted your head, "orrrrr... we could head back to mine, crack open a bottle of wine on the balcony... maybe fool around a little?" You looked at Adam with a cheeky grin.

"God, you just get me" Adam laughed, placing his free hand on your waist and planting a soft kiss onto your lips.

And it was indeed, a perfect date.

[niftukkun]

fanart for a scene in @nerdydowntherabbithole 's Taking Life As Is on AO3 !! a scene early on in the fanfic that sounded so cool it gripped me with inspiration, where a vulture swoops down and gets fucking got by a leviathan while our dear protagonists look on in horror of the beautiful brutality of mother nature happening right in front of them! dont you love it when you leave your rotting corpse behind and immediately get hit with the existential horror of almost dying and the primal fear of seeing something that much bigger than you and realising your fragility when you were once a godlike being above such lowly thoughts and struggles? anyway.

some details and thoughts !! :

-just before this scene, sugar (survivor's name in this fic) hunted and ate a salamander, so i included it in this here drawin too !! hell yeah esoteric fic-accurate details -(pro tip for any artists out there; if you want to push something into the background, gradient overlays are your friend. also, dont forget to check your values. outline your characters if they aren't popping out of the background enough) -in other, not fic-accurate detail,, moon's dress and marks. i think in the fic, moon's dress is more like,, an actual dress with sleeves and such. but also like, i do what i want and i want something thats barely a dress so i can show off my anatomy/mechanical bits art skills. i dont care if its not canon compliant im calling rule of cool -whoops i forgor the wires uhh shit nevermind it would cover the cool bits anyway whatever -also, while i am proud of the vulture and leviathan, they both used reference. like, i sketched them out yeah, but also the sketch was mostly done by staring at a reference the whole time and overlaying it on the canvas as needed when the drawing looked a little too off. so if you look at this and think 'aw man this guys too good at drawing i could never draw a vulture/leviathan/background/whateverthefuck like that' youre wrong. use references and get better at art by referencing references -shoutout to the miraheze wiki btw for supplying most of my references for this. fandom wiki could never

this fic holds a special place in my heart. like, i dont agree with it on a lot of things (how the cycle works, time between slugcat campaigns, how rot works, etc), but its very internally consistent and i like how all the characters are written. i really do like how, despite all the bickering, the iterators really do care for each other and love each other. i like that the blame isn't pushed just to pebbles, the acknowledgement of there being a lot of nuance and complications in the whole situation. i like the worldbuilding, nsh's wetland-esque biome, srs's gleaming glass beaches, the different interesting fauna/flora, slugcat society worldbuilding, the fucking trains hell yes trains.

most of all though, i love the authors dedication to getting a happy ending. no one left behind. all the iterators in the local group are getting freed (except for innocence but thats a different thing) all the slugcats are alive and doing well (even artificer's kids!!). and even though the fic throws the characters around, bad things happen, steps backward are taken,,, there is almost a palatable message that no matter what, things will be okay. artificer did bad and its acknowledged with visible consequences (scavenger temple route, which mightve made things so much easier on the route to nsh) but she still gets her kids back. hunter had her rot cured and even got some sick new upgrades but still struggles with overexertion and moments of weakness. both pebbles and moon have ptsd from the rot and the rain respectively and its handled reasonably well, not even mentioning the survivors guilt and learned helplessness on nsh and the whole,, guilt from causing this whole fiasco and the feeling of it being all their fault from srs,,,, , ,,,

i dont know. i just really like how dedicated the fic is to showing the realistic consequences of the unforgiving and brutal world of rain world and weaving it into a story of forgiveness and freedom. there are struggles but the heroes will still win and get to go home happy. its cathartic. i love it a lot.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Hostage Secured

John Soap Mactavish x gn!reader

Soooo.. I got a nonnie asking for Soap and his partner in an actual hostage situation but this turned kinda dark...

Also I hope showing readers thoughts getting fucked up worked and isn't confusing while reading

Warnings: torture (not explicit), violence, implied sa (but like only in passing in one sentence), also I'm shit at spelling

Wordcount ~1,8k

You’re not sure how long it’s been. A few hours? A few days? Time is a blur when you drift in and out of consciousness.

You open the door to your apartment, excited to get started on cleaning and preparing everything for Johnny’s return. Tomorrow he’ll come back from deployment and you feel like dancing when you fantasize about being in his arms again. You can practically feel his burly frame against your back, his thick arms wrapped around you. Your smile is giddy as you swing the door open and walk into the apartment.

You don’t even have time to scream when arms emerge from the darkness of the hallway, encircle you and press a cloth to your mouth. The last thought in your head is Johnny. He’ll be so worried when you’re not here tomorrow.

The first time you woke up you were dizzy and disoriented. Before you could even get a good look at the room you’re being held in you have to tilt your head to the side and violently vomit onto the floor.

You have no idea what they did to you but your whole body tightens painfully in the effort it takes to empty your stomach. You sit back up straight, heaving for air.

The chair you’re strapped to is uncomfortable, the ropes on your wrists and legs painfully tight, rubbing against your skin when you shift.

You can feel panic begin to overwhelm you, crawling up your back with ice like claws. Your throat tightens and you feel like vomiting again so you close your eyes tight and think of Johnny. The way his mouth would curve when he teasingly smirked at you. The way he’d hold you. Warm and safe.

Honestly you’ve talked with him about situations like the one you’re currently in. Prepared for the worst. Talked about how not to give information away. How to behave smartly.

Nothing could have prepared you for the harsh reality. The panic is nearly overwhelming and you’re barely keeping yourself from hyperventilating. Your stomach painfully cramping.

No one ever told you, that you could be so scared you’d feel like you’re dying.

That’s when steps approach you from somewhere and you open your eyes again. When the person steps into the light you have to hold onto everything in you not to break out into sobs.

Whoever it is, he’s wearing a red mask that’s identical to Johnny’s. The one he’s shown you in the safety of your shared apartment.

The voice is muffled by the mask, hiding the real sound of it but the grin in it makes you feel sick again, when he says: “I don’t have any questions for you, sweetheart, I’m afraid.”

You grow confused. What is this if not to get information on the task force? Your teeth are locked tight though, not a squeak escaping you. You’d like to claim it’s because you won’t give this scum anything but truthfully it’s mostly because you’re muscles are locked in fear.

The man drags a chair from the shadows with an awful screeching noise and turns it with the backrest towards you, straddling it. “This is purely for our satisfaction. Your man and his little friends fucked with us. No one fucks with us without paying the price.”

Ice cold dread settles in your stomach when he stands again. He slowly walks towards you like a lion approaching his already fallen prey.

You’re forced to look up at him when he reaches into his pocket, pretends to search for something, getting sick satisfaction from the way your eyes track his hand warily. He whips his empty hand back out, already giggling when you flinch and backhands you so hard you fall over with your chair.

Pain races along your face, the shoulder you landed on immediately starts to throb. The man’s laughter is giddy and happy. Hearing it come from behind Johnny’s mask nearly makes you scream but you grit your teeth and stay quiet.

You don’t know how often you’ve lost consciousness since then. You can’t remember the last time you felt anything other than pain. The body you’re trapped in seems to be made of pain and you find yourself wondering when they’ll finally kill you.

You’re not sure you dread that anymore. Not after everything they’ve done.

Still you make the effort to open your eyes, just to discover that you can’t anymore. They’re finally completely swollen shut and the dried blood crusting them doesn’t help with that.

You can faintly make out voices over the static in your ears, or is the static in your brain? You’re pretty sure you can feel ants crawl along your brain, filling your scull with their tiny scratching feet.

Someone should drill a hole in your scull and let them out.

“… had enough fun. They’re probably looking for us, so we should end things now and get going. We have to regroup and rebuilt. But this time they’ll know not to get in our way.”

There’s steps drawing near but you can’t even raise your head in defiance anymore. The last spark of any of that had left you the first time they’d torn the clothes from your body. Some meek little part in you wonders if Johnny is even looking for you.

The mask is burnt into your memory by this point. It’s weird how much it messes with you that they use something you associate with Johnny. Or maybe Johnny really is the one doing all of this to you.

That would explain why he hasn’t come for you. He probably gave up on you. If you concentrate enough you can feel his soft hands cupping your face: “Whatever happens, bonnie. I’ll always make sure you’re safe. I will always come for you.”

Maybe you’re slowly going mad but you could swear it’s his voice when the familiar dark chuckle meets your ears. “It’s time to end this. Was a pleasure playing with you.”

You hope Johnny forgives you for perking up at that. Maybe he can forgive you for hoping they finally put a bullet through your head. They probably won’t, too quick and gentle of a death. But whatever it is at least this time there will be an end to it.

You can hear fabric shift and someone impatiently shouting. “Make it quick, we have to pack our stuff and get going.”

There seems to be mercy in death because you can hear the soft click of a gun. You pray Johnny doesn’t have to see your body, once these guys are done. You pray Johnny puts the bullet through your head.

A deafening bang resonates through the room.

Maybe death isn’t painless after all, you think before all hell breaks loose. Gunshots everywhere, muffles noises of hits and blows being exchanged, men shouting. You can recognize some of your captor’s voices and you feel like laughing when you hear them scream in pain but every single breath hurts.

And then someone approaches you. You’re breathing speeds up again. Then there are hands on you, cutting loose the rope you’re being held with.

“Hostage secured.”, an all too familiar voice rasps and then: “It’s me, bonnie. Ye’r okay now. A’ve got you.”

This must be heaven because that is Johnny’s voice in your ear and his hands on your bruised body. Even blind you recognize his touch. The chaos around you becomes unimportant.

He’s here, he came for you. Johnny is here. You can feel darkness slowly crawl along your spine, reaching your brain, when you finally allow yourself to relax just the tiniest bit.

Strange did you start crying? Your eyes feel wet again. Is it tears or blood? You’re  not sure.

As soon as the ropes are cut you start falling, he catches you and a pained gasp escapes you. No part of your body is untouched and even his gentle hold brings you a new wave of pain.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry. So sorry.”, Johnny says and if you were more conscious you could hear the wetness in his voice. “Someone get me a fucking medic over here!”, he screams and you flinch.

It’s a tiny movement but immediately his voice grows gentle once more. Funny, you don’t think you’re ever heard his voice sound this frantic. Not your Johnny. He’s never scared but now his voice sounds terrified.

“I’ve got you, bonnie. I’ve got you, never gonna let you go again. It’s okay now. Just stay with me. I’ve got you. Hold on.”

Why does he sound so scared? You can finally relax in his arms? You can finally feel your breathing slow down and it hurts less. It feels almost light.

“Please, baby.”, Johnny begs and you want to tell him it’s okay but you can’t.

You start shivering in his arms. When did it get so cold? When did your heartbeat start to hurt? Your skin feels raw and someone drapes some sort of fabric over you. The sudden pain makes you scream. Weird, you didn’t think you could still do that.

Johnny’s hands tenderly cup your face and the sudden pain makes you sob, near hysterics. Fascinating that you still have enough energy to grow hysterical. Finally you grow hysterical, after all of that.

Medics try to take you from Johnny’s grasp and he growls at them, the sound more animal than human. They have to wrestle him away from you, getting you into an ambulance while he is being held back, snarling like a rabid animal.

“Who did this, bonnie. Who?!”

You whimper, nearly delirious and finally find the strength to answer him with a wet rasp: “You…”

It’s probably for the best you’re too out of it to realize how still Johnny becomes,, processing what you just said, while you’re being taken away.

You miss the way he walks over to Price, looks at the bound men and catches sight of one wearing a replica of his red mask. His fists clench tightly, shaking with effort to hold himself back.

You miss the way he asks: “Do we need him for interrogations? Information? Anything?” The rage in his voice barely contained.

You miss the way price shakes his head and goes: “He’s already bound, Johnny, he’ll get what he..:”

You miss the way Price can’t get out the rest of his sentence before Soap has grabbed the man at the collar and drags him forward.

What follows is a series of sickening crunches, rattling breaths and a concerning amount of gunshots.

Simon and Gaz walk over and stop next to Price, watching the scene. They’re quiet while the man wails in pain. Finally his sounds die down, his breaths growing wet and uneven.

Price sighs and lights his cigar. “One of the targets is KIA, I guess.”

He approaches Soap and puts a hand on his shoulder, looking at the dying man before them.

“You did well, son. We got here just in time, it will be okay.”

[anyataylordelrey]

TLOU YAP

“But I don’t understand why Ellie was so annoyed with Joel when he literally saved her life out of love.” etc etc

Ellie wasn’t “annoyed.” She was broken, and devastated by what Joel did.

You gotta remember; this little girl watched her best friend get turned into a monster. And the very same virus that did that to Riley, spared Ellie.

It only spared Ellie. And it’s been killing the whole damn world for 20 years.

Can you even imagine, how that would make you feel? She was supposed to die with Riley. She was supposed to die, period. Or turn. Because everyone does

But she didn’t. And then, Marlene gave her hope that, maybe, there was a reason for that.

Maybe the weird twist of viral fate that saved her, could save everyone else.

She’s grown up in a shattered world. Born six years after society collapsed. It’s all she’s ever known. But she’s young (so terribly young) and we see that she carries hope. Hope that things can be better, again. That what she’s known isn’t all there is.

She’s literally surrounded by reminders that life wasn’t always like this. The world-that-was lies in ruins, but it’s still there. All around her. And she’s still enough of a kid to hold onto dreams. Hell, she wants to be an astronaut, for Chrissakes. Talk about an impossible thing to want to be, given her situation!

She can, maybe, make sure that no one has to die like Riley did. She can, maybe, give humanity a fighting chance to return to the stars. What she carries within her, the immunity it grants her, it would matter. It would mean something, that she (and only she) didn’t die when she should have.

She can save the world. For a fourteen year old hopeful dreamer, who still believes in superheroes, who is dealing with survivor’s guilt, who has in no way processed the trauma of her best friend (who she was in love with) dying, it’s a lot to hold onto.

Then, through the journey. Tess, bitten, dying. Trying to get Ellie to the Fireflies so they can turn her into a cure. Sam, bitten, turned. Killed by his brother to save Ellie’s life, before Henry turns that gun on himself. All the people she and Joel had to kill, to get to where they were going through this awful, bloody world. All the Infected she saw. Then, David. Would-be seducer of children, cannibal…..and his people’s best hope for survival. This fucked up world that made them rely on him. How easy it was to lose herself to the rage, when she took his life.

People she cared for died, to keep her alive. She feels like she owes them. But it’s more than that. So much loss and pain. If she can be turned into a cure then people like Tess, Sam, Riley, they would survive. They wouldn’t need to keep turning, dying. People like David, they would be in jail. Instead of free to pursue their own sick interests, in a world where nothing matters.

She can’t save them. But she owes it to them, to the trail of bodies she and Joel have left in their wake, to make it all mean something.

Before they go to the hospital, and Joel tells her they don’t need to if she doesn’t want to, she literally says “After all we’ve been through. After everything I’ve done. It can’t all be for nothing.”

That’s the heart of it. All this blood and sacrifice, it has to have meaning. Why so many have died while she’s survived, there has to be a reason.

She’s still waiting on her turn. For madness. For death. But it would be worth it, if her death could save others.

When she has her “confrontation” with joel in the second game she says “I was supposed to die in that hospital. My life would have fucking mattered. But you took that from me.”

Every person who gets infected now, she feels like that’s on her. Because if Joel would have just let her die, they’d survive. Everyone who gets torn apart or murdered, she feels like that’s on her. Because if Joel had just let her die, the world would have a chance to be more than it is.

She’s stuck. Unable to be Infected like everyone else, but entirely unable to do anything about all their pain and suffering. Because Joel chose her life over the world.

She believes her life mattered, that she survived, solely to save others. It’s the only way she’s been able to deal with it being her and not Riley. She made it through, so that she could end up on that operating table.

She could handle it, when she could hold onto her purpose. Joel told her, basically, that she had no purpose. He didn’t mean to, but he made her survival….useless, as far as she was concerned.

More than that, he looked her in the eye and swore that there was no hope.

And there wasn’t. Not anymore. Because of her. Because Joel loved her, and couldn’t let her die.

Imagine carrying that. The guilt you’d feel. On top of the survivor’s guilt she was already only barely suppressing.

She wasn’t annoyed because he lied. She was absolutely devastated.

The way she sees it, he stole her purpose and made this entire broken world her fault. While making sure there was nothing she could do about it.

[patiann345]

NO BUT LITERALLYYYYYY

And in regards to fnaf; these books are way less wack than those and fit really comfortably in the timeline/universe! There is no reason to claim "Oh actually they're not canon" except to try and save their asses (which isn't working!! People are pissed, rightfully so!)

Kress didn't say anything about it (and, why would she?), and look, I don't wanna put words in her mouth or assume how she feels, but if it were me? This whole situation about them claiming now that they're non-canon, them white-washing characters who were very POC coded, and just generally how this novel is turning out.. to me, I'd feel insulted. These books (at least in my opinion) are the BEST pieces of media this series has. Kress is carrying this series, on god. LIKE,, JDS CAN'T EVEN FIX THEIR FLAGSHIP TITLE, BATIM IS STILL A VERY BROKEN GAME. Fucking hell man,,

I know a lotta people regard Meatly as the lesser of two evils, but I am so sick of him and Mike. According to them, they essentially say yes and no to products, merch, etc. And they said yes to this. And then Mike gave the worst response he could muster. Not to do better, not to fix the issue and actually address it, but to spit on Bendy book fans (and in general Bendy fans) and ignore it by pulling the ol' "Not canon" card.

They're both awful, and they've hit some lows, but this? This is a new kind of low.

[gigabyte-flare]

There's No Escape Part 4 Teaser

Who wants a part 4 teaser since I'm not entirely sure when I'll have it done by, so hopefully this will hold everyone over until I get it finished. Enjoy!

Warnings: Oral and yandere!Leon being our favorite pervert. No Minors allowed k thx!

You awoke to the most intense feeling of pleasure washing over you. A tongue swirling over your sensitive clit along with at least two fingers digging inside you, hitting your g-spot oh, so right. You arch your back as you push your head back into the pillow, your eyes still closed as you let out a soft moan. 

You open your eyes, sit up on your elbows and look down, seeing Leon kneeling at the end of the bed, your legs draped over his shoulders as he ate you out and fucked you with his fingers. In that moment, the recollection of where you were and how you got there rushed at you all at once, causing you to tense up completely. Leon stops what he’s doing and looks up at you, his lips drenched from your juices and the remnants of his release from the night before.

“Oh, sorry princess! Did I wake you?”

You think about giving him a good kick in the face, but you were so drained, plus you weren’t keen on getting put in timeout and chained to the wall again. Resigning to your current situation, you lay back down, giving him a wave of your hand for him to continue. Instantly you feel his lips sucking on your clit, causing your legs to twitch as his fingers continue their assault on your g-spot.

As much as you hated this man, there was no denying that he was extremely good at taking care of you, knowing exactly which buttons to push. It’s likely why you tolerated his sick, demented mind for as long as you had before escaping.

Your whole body begins to tremble as you inch closer to your release, your legs clenching to his powerful shoulders. Your right hand runs through his hair as you let out a loud moan.

“D-Daddy… I’m so close!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the back of his head.

You feel him smile around your clit as his fingers begin to pound into you, and in an instant you snap, soaking his fingers with your release as you cry out. You feel him pull his fingers out of you, you sit back up to look down at him.

“What a good girl,” he purrs, licking your juices from his fingers like it was candy, “Daddy’s going to get cleaned up, then I’ll make us breakfast, ‘k pumpkin?”

You watch him stand up and go into an adjacent room, which you assume is the master bathroom. You hear the sink run for a couple minutes as you get up from bed, your legs extremely unsteady between last night and this morning. You approach the closet and open it. You don’t see your clothes, however you do see a large navy blue t-shirt you could use. Pulling it out, you see the faded letters say ‘R.P.D.’. Pulling your sweaty t-shirt off and tossing it into the laundry basket on the floor in the closet, you pull the new t-shirt over your head.

It didn’t quite cover your lower region, so you found a pair of his boxer shorts to put on with it. You felt gross wearing his clothes, but it was better than being naked, which you figured Leon would enjoy way too much; you couldn’t have that. Turning around, you find Leon standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at you in awe.

Maybe you were better off naked…

[itsblasttothepast]

I'm not sure if I have the strength to keep going right now. This week was bad we have one last race and apparently ESPN (if you want to read it but it's quite depressing) confirmed that Sergio is out, I don't know what sources they have but they were right about Newey and I just feel sick (too much stress and too much helplessness) - I kind of blame myself too, it always goes wrong for dirvers that I start to like. All we needed was one good race, one race where the car was working - and it was going so well, Sergio was doing so good, Bird wasn't useless in communicating and then? Just like Baku, all hopes down the drain in less than 5 second. And people spinning the car giving up to be Checo's fault? He did what he could, the entire weekend he was a lab rat and it helped them so much, I mean - Max won for fuck's sake and it didn't seem possible on friday. And yet the hate is like a ever growing wave and it's just too much for me right now. Horner's words were... Weird? Sergio was still insisting he has the seat, he said that nothing changed in his contract but the whole situation is just disgusting. I read the Horner thing with a lot of wariness but it sounded weird to me but I agree with you, it's like he is asking him to quit on his own (which would prove our Markorner theory of destroying him slowly to push him out - the message is clear, they don't want him in RBR anymore). But it was also kind of nice??? Like, compared to how earlier (before the mess got worse and we knew even less than now) he called Sergio 'unsuitable' and all and now he was choosing his words wisely? - I agree with you that the 'adult thing' sounds awful and it does have a double meaning (so he's feeding the media again - it's either Sergio's staying and they can't do nothing about it or they expect him to leave on his own). The lunch was suspicious for me too but I decided to take it as a 'we got more wind tunel time and that was the goal so it's okay' because I was feeling naive but right now I have no words anymore. Horner acting like this wasn't the plan, him saying that Sergio did what he could while at the same time telling him to fuck off? Crazy. I just want it to be resolved and for people to stop hating on Sergio. Liam has something against older drivers and if he thinks Fernando will let that slide he is very much wrong. I don't want to get optimistic just to have reality hit me again so I'll say this - whatever happens I hope Sergio is aware of everything and will be able to make the best choices. The chestappen baby is not important to RBR apparently :(

Max silence is also gving me bad vibes. I know he can't (and he didn't) defend Sergio every race but just at the last stretch the silence is making me paranoid. But maybe it's because of that congratulation video from 'all RBR family' that Sergio wasn't in - could they make their opinion on Checo any clearer? I get the academy thing and all but it was a low blow from them anyway. Jos is the wildest card in this entire mess, I hope he keeps his silence 'till the end of the season, we have enough with Horner and Marko being snakes. This last week will be a nightmare so the rumours might be as well:

Valtteri actually signed with RBR but they told him to keep quiet

Sergio is out but he's taking a lot of money with him and that's why Horner is salty about P3 in WCC

RBR20 becomes a decent car at the last race just for funsies

Ford CEO first demand as the new partner will be to fire Horner and Marko

Max locks himself in the office and refuses to race if RBR won't confirm Sergio for 2025

Sergio is staying out of spite and British media will combust from anger

It was a long way since the beautiful Suzuka race, huh? We have fallen so low and I can't believe that people can't remember Sergio getting P2 every race at the start of this season. I know it sounds bad but Max really is just that good to make the car work even if it's a piece of crap - which he said it was many times, alongside Sergio but apparently nobody heard that. RBR sacrificing Sergio for the 'developement of the car' so Max can defend his WDC, laughing at him when he first told them the problems and blaming him despite having the data, leaving him alone to deal with the hate and even feeding it just to say that he should leave on his own is crazy. Either way - I hope we survive this.

It's really hard with all the headlines and I know ESPN is a reliable source (I guess, honestly by this point I don't know anymore), and I wish they just come out and say whatever is going to happen, but I know that Checo is the one pulling all the attention, I mean, there are tons of things happening in Abu Dhabi:

Charlos divorce.

The fight for the sub-championship between Norris and Charles.

The last race of Lewis with Mercedes, ending an era.

Esteban not being able to race, and practically leaving Alpine without a farwell or something.

The Haasband divorce.

Zhou and Valtteri also having their last race and deserving all the attention, particularly Zhou who was the best driver.

Franco Colapinto leaving F1 (momentarily, we know he'll be back because he's awesome).

And for the gossip, the whole Max-George drama should keep the press fed, but NOOO, they want to focus on Checo, again, like they have been doing all year.

Anyway, to be honest many of the experts in México don't believe about the whole leaving RBR thing, at least for 2025, but they think he will leave in 2026 (and others also think that Max is leaving as well in that year), but statistically I know there's a chance it could happen. If that's the case, we should look the positive outcome, even if he doesn't have a seat for next year, at least he will breath again being away from this hell team, and I sure hope he gets enough money to screw them over, and he goes loudly and airing all the dirty laundry. And there's always 2026.

The rumor of Checo in Mercedes is the one who honestly made me laugh. People can be so delusional, I mean, I love Checo, but I know he isn't Mercedes' choice by a long shot.

We care about Checo and the Chestappen baby, so whatever happens, we will be together, with him, eating kitkats and knowing he'll return as the king he is.

The only way to survive this week is not letting them get to us, we need to be wilder and crazier than them!

My only rumor this time is... Checo actually bought RBR last year, and he's testing the loyalty of every member of the team to see who he will fire next year. Of course many failed, and he's taking notes. Also he's marrying Max because he can't have a kid out of wedlock.

Oh, and Charles is Max's best man, while Fernando is Checo's. Franco is the ring bearer.

Yeah, the year started so good... so happy and hopeful, it feels like we age 100 years with this hell season.

We shall survive my friend, if only to not giving RBR the satisfaction of defeat us.

[ghostlightfic]

Omg twinning with Loop rn! (Sick with fever. Not doing too hot) (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

Speaking of! How would everyone take care of a sick party? Think like food poisoning but only one person didn’t get it. I have a feeling on who would be the best at it, but I’m still curious! ヽ(；▽；)

oh no get well soon :( here's a caretaker tierlist

s+: mirabelle, to the surprise of nobody! she has healing craft, she's very attentive, and she can put her stress into a little box and have a good cry about it later

a: isabeau. he's a very comforting presence, can keep it together under pressure, and i believe in his ability to make a good soup. i think he would do very well at this

b: siffrin. this situation would freak siffrin out. being the only one still standing would deal them psychic damage. that being said he has healing craft, and i think he's actually pretty good at taking care of other people! it would just make him wig out if all of his friends got sick at once. the catastrophizerrrrr

b-: odile. she could handle it i'm sure but her bedside manner definitely sucks. blunt works sometimes but perhaps not here. she'd do fine actually caring for everyone but she wouldn't exactly keep up morale very well LMAO

d: this is not to say necessarily that they would do badly at taking care of the party. it's loop though. much like siffrin this whole situation would make them freaked the fuck out. however with loop's specific brand of intrusive thought this would be a MISERABLE experience for everyone. loop would be in an awful feedback loop of i have an intrusive thought about hurting my defenseless friends > i get scared of what i might do > i get more stressed > i have an intrusive thought. like they'd take care of everyone just fine but i think they'd immediately get sick after everyone else was better just from the sheer stress the situation would put them under LMAO

d-: bonnie would be freaked out. bad. please do not put the baby under the stress of caring for the whole party they're just a baby :( they'd make a great chicken soup but they'd be obviously freaking out the whole time and it would make everyone feel awful