#i know people r gonna wonder and some might ask

[autisticpride]

once you start paying attention, it's really obvious how inaccessible places are

a while ago, i saw a post about public restrooms. i don't remember the post, nor everything in it, but since then i've been paying attention.

i often use the accessible stall due to claustrophobia, sensory issues, and the likelihood that i'll knock my elbows into something in the regular stalls. so i should be seeing restrooms at their most accessible. some of these examples i'm remembering from the post, some i've realized myself while i'm paying attention.

most single restrooms have no coat/bag hooks. many stalls also have no coat/bag hooks, despite having holes where the screws of the hook that used to be there was.

no restrooms i've seen have had hooks anywhere near the toilet (for medical devices, so people don't have to put their expensive medical devices on the dirty floor)

none have had an emergency pull cord (to alert staff that someone in the restroom needs assistance)

none have had sharps containers (for diabetics etc. also, no talking shit about addicts in the notes, safe sharps disposal is important for everyone who uses needles, regardless of reasons)

none have had grab bars on both sides of the toilet (only one on the wall side)

very few (or possibly none, it's hard to be sure as this is not a problem for me) have had unscented soap (allergies, migraine triggers)

very few have had hand sanitizer (useful for various reasons, including but not limited to the fact that the sinks aren't accessible to wheelchair users either). (those that did were single restrooms in restaurants, and they also stored some cleaning products there, which i think is funny but probably isn't great.)

multiple restaurants have had restrooms down narrow halls that have also been used for storage, making it completely inaccessible to wheelchair users

that's not even getting started on doors. heavy and sticking doors are way more common than they should be.

i don't think i've ever seen a public restroom with all of these, or even close.

if you want to be an ally to disabled people, start by paying attention to the bathrooms. they tell you exactly how often disabled people are considered in public spaces (almost never more than the law requires, often less)

[orcelito]

Me currently out of work and not looking for a job rn bc grief shit But knowing my tax return should hit in the next week (which will let me last like 3 months comfortably) and I'll have half of two life insurance payouts bc of my dad dying Probably within the next month or two (Maybe more, depending) so like I got money on the way, I Do, but I didn't work as much as I was expecting for my last paycheck so I'll be cutting it a little close for rent and such until the payouts hit so I'm like. :] cutting it close here man :] give me my money please :]

[luveline]

if your still taking requests I would like to request reader scraping their knees and tasm!peter patching her up and it’s a lot of lovely tension:))) maybe r not being used to people touching them without bad intentions.

I hope you are having a lovely time right now and are taking care of yourself<3

thank you lovely! ♡ fem, 1k

Peter's droopy eyed when you knock, less so when he gets a good look at you. Blood leading like twin snakes from the grazed ache of your knees and staining your socks, tears lining your eyes and shiny in the sun, you're embarrassingly sad. He doesn't give you shit for it, the opposite. 

"Fuck," he says, his eyes widening with a familiar concern. "Shit, what did you do?" 

"Uhm," you say, though you know, but you bit your tongue on the way down and everything hurts, "I fell. Someone bumped into me coming out of the subway." 

Peter holds his hands out, thinks better of it and steps down over the door jam to take your hands and pull you forward for a hug. He smells like apple jack cereal and his hair is still wet from an early morning shower, a walking poster boy for brown-haired, brown-eyed sweethearts everywhere, but you still seize at his tight hold. 

He murmurs a sorry and leans back, assessing your gaze, so close that you can see the trifecta of his pinprick beauty marks, one in the shadow of his brow, one under his eye, and one closer to his nose. 

"Come on. We'll clean you up." 

Peter ushers you inside, his fingertips brushing the small of your back. You walk into the kitchen, every surface clean, the wooden dining table decorated by one empty coffee cup and one half full. His cereal bowl has been washed and left to dry on the rack, next to what must've been his Aunt May's plate. 

"May's in work already?" you ask him.

He hums, turned away from you, a slip of his long, shapely back exposed as he reaches for the first aid kit sitting on top of one of the cabinets. "She said to tell you thank you for the flowers last week." 

You panicked so much beforehand. What do you bring for your not quite new friend's mom when you meet her for the first time? You've known Peter for a few months but never had the good fortune to meet May until she demanded it, your bouquet a weak offering. You'd wanted her to like you, because despite your fight or flight whenever he gives you a quick shoulder rub, any ounce of affection, you really like Peter. 

Said flowers draw your attention as Peter helps you up onto the counter. You turn away from him, trembling hands forced under your thighs, and count the petals of a wilting carnation one by one as he washes his hands quickly in the sink beside you before laying out the sterile bandages atop their plastic coverings. "I'm gonna wipe the blood off," he says. 

You're past saying no, I can do it myself. You already let him help you up. The time to protest is passed. 

"Okay." 

He takes your wobbly voice for nervousness, and you are nervous, but not the way he thinks. "I'll be careful," he says. "You don't have anything to worry about." 

Strange but not unheard of for Peter to be so serious. You nod jerkily, waiting for his touch. It doesn't come for a while, and you brave meeting his gaze to find out why. 

His eyebrows are sewn together in concern. His hands land on your thighs, and, to your surprise, you aren't apprehensive. You relax as deft hands draw mirrored lines up and down the outer sides of your legs, leaving a generous distance from the beginnings of your shorts. "Maybe you can take some advil first, if you're worried." He eases your legs apart as he steps into the space between them, his eyes unfailing where they meet yours. "It'll hurt less. I bet I could get some topical numbing cream–" 

"It's not–" You peek down at his chest. "I'm not worried about my knees." 

"Oh. Good," he says, hand coming up to your elbow. He holds it so tenderly you wonder how you ever thought he might have a propensity for anything but tenderness. "You look really nice, under all the blood. Is that weird? That's probably why you fell, you couldn't just walk around looking that nice. Throws off the balance of the universe." 

You laugh softly. "These are my best socks." 

"I can see that!" He squeezes down from your elbow to your hand. You've never been touched like that, half massage, half reassurance, just squeezing you to squeeze you. Laughter livens his tone, "I'll get you new socks." 

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to." 

You struggle to breathe as he cleans your knees. Between his murmuring, It's okay and Almost done, you've no time to feel worried. 

You've time for other things, like this. He turns between your legs and slides a hand under the other, fingertips pressing into the soft underside of your knee as he works a thin layer of disinfecting ointment into your scratches. He continues his murmuring, apologies and lamentation alike. "Sorry. Don't want you catching rabies from the pristine streets of Queens. I mean, fuck, sweetheart, you made a real mess. How hard did you fall?" 

You swallow a lump that feels fit to choke you, worse when he tilts his head ever so slightly your way, face an inch from yours, less. 

"Hard," you say weakly. 

He misses the implication (your first stroke of luck all day), smoothing a large square of gauze over your knee and securing it with medical tape. "It's nothing a day on the couch can't fix. I'll make you breakfast too, free of charge." 

"Thanks, Peter." 

He rubs the skin above your knee. "You're welcome. One horrendous injury down, one to go." 

His touch feels even softer the second time around. 

[siri-ike]

Danny's Phanclub

From this prompt

(This is connected to Summer of change, Jazz Al-Ghul, Mad Science Private School, empty, and a little crime as a treat)

On december 9th, 7 people who were not busy that afternoon gathered in a dimly lit garage on the request of one person.

Angie (15) head of the Danny Phan club's theories division: You're probably all wondering why I asked you here today.

Su-Jin (19) in charge of keeping the websites updated: Yeah, the urgent message with no explanation was kinda jarring.

Jónatan (16) event organizer: couldn't have given a little heads up?

Carmelo (14) treasurer: And I don't believe we needed this many snacks.

Rowan (17) President of the Phanclub: Let's hear her out.

Suddenly, a bright light flashed above them.

Harriet (17) made matching t-shirts: Got the power back on. What are we talking about?

Angie: I'm sure you've all heard that Danny Phantom somehow managed to freeze that giant plant ghost last summer?

S,J,C,R,H,D:*murmurs of agreement*

A: And everyone knows ghost poweres are based on how one dies. As was proven last year with that ghost who was perpetually soaking wet and kept spiting up water

She turns dramatically away from the pool conference table.

A: Before now, he could just do the same things as all other ghosts. Invisibility, intangibility, flying. Plus, those blasts, which are probably just concentrated ectoplasm.

She drags in a large corkboard and looks at the others when she flops it around. Revealing newspaper clippings of Danny using each of his powers, a grave yard, some mountains, and... ski resort pamphlets?

A: Now. Let's look at the evidence.

1. The snow. That came out of nowhere, right? - Wrong. Before the Christian version of Hell, there was the Norse Hel. It was where everyone whet when they died, provided they didn't die in battle. It was thought to be a vast wasteland covered in ice where you could spend eternity with those who were with you when you died.

2. His appearance. He wears a onesie. There are a few reasons one might wear a onesie. The main reason being, you don't want something getting into your clothes. For example, bees. But he has nothing to do with bees. It would have to be something else, something he is connected to... like snow. Like his hair. *pause for effect* it's snow white. The chances of someone being born with white hair is less than 0.001% or one in 17 to 20 thousand. It can also be caused by a deficiency in vitamin B12 or pituitary or thyroid issues. You can all refer to the group chat for articles on those.

*Angie knows no one ever reads her sorces, but damn it, she did her research, and she's gonna site it.*

Jónatan: When did you have time for this? School only finished yesterday.

A: What I think is more likely is that his haircolor changed post-mortem. But why white?

*pause*

A: I think he froze to death.

The room went silent. It had crossed each of their minds, but no one had wanted to say it. Enter Angie 'can't read the room to save her life' Sage.

A: Considering the multiple ski resorts in Illinois supporting the theory and how much more aggressive he is in December, probably due to the anniversary of his death. It could also explain why no other ghosts show up in December. Either they're too scared of him or they're giving him space. He has seemed to be somewhat chumy with some of the other ghosts, despite their combative relationship-

Rowan: Angie, stop.

Quiet.

She looks around the room. Four people are looking down, seemingly avoiding eye contact, and two look at her. Rowan, looks right at her with stern yet sympathetic eyes.

R: Everyone take five. We'll pick it up from here. Angie, a word.

Oh great, she must've offended someone. If only she could remember to look at the faces. Shurely, there must be some signs she could look out for.

R: I know you like theories, Angie. But can you tone it down? You're talking about someone's death. That's not the sort of thing most people are comfortable with.

They're one of the most patient people she's ever met, but sometimes even Rowan doesn't quite make sense.

A: But... he's a ghost. We all know he died.

R: We do. But, I think this whole conversation could be easier if you remove the "post mortem" and the "to death" parts of your presentation.

A: I guess I could change the wording a bit. Leave out the more gruesome parts. But I need someone to hear those out, a second set of ears to make sure I didn't miss anything.

Rowan looks to the corner of the room, where a 12 year old girl sits on a barstool with a wide-eyed grin ear to ear. She nods as though knowing exactly what they want.

R: Dani can hear you out on those.

Dani (12 (real age 1)) a gremlin, somehow always has time for this: I look forward to working with you.

~~~~~~~~

Angie's articles

Premature gray/white hair

One in 17-20,000

BTW I'm not gonna continue this.

Guess I'm continuing this.

Pt 2

Masterpost

[taniahylian]

Who is Bessmert

So, I bet all of us have wondered, since the "Notes on Shouri" event trrailer was announced, who exactly is Bessmert. After all, being an important character, but not playable, and with a very mysterious past and abilities, Bessmert is quite intriguing indeed. And now I'm gonna tell you who I think she is.

Fair warning though, this is a bit long, but I promise it's worth the read, so please stick with me until the end!

Let's start with the most basic evidence: Her appearence. She's tall, has grey hair, dresses in a typical exlorer garment with a big black coat over it, and has her eyes covered with a white cloth. But, most importantly, she looks quite similar to Vertin, and that's just where the similarities start.

Their accents are pretty much the same, as well as the calm way in which they talk most of the time, and they are very smooth talkers; able to convince people of almost anything.

Bessmert's team seems to be aware of this as well, since Krolik even requests she doesn't speak before they vote about going back, no doubt fearing she'll convince them to keep going.

Later on we also see her use this ability to convince Getian to help them solve the Lushu situation instead of running away, similar to what Vertin has done with Druvis and Jessica, for example.

Now, aside from this almost supernatural manner of speach, Bessmert is also similar to Vertin when it comes to her arcane abilities; she also doesn't fight directly, but is able to sense arcanum in various ocassions, something we've only seen Vertin do in canon, and that other characters have remarked how rare of an ability it is.

However, unlike Vertin, she can sense even more than just arcane skills, like nature-related phenomena, the environment around her, and even the intent behind other people's actions. To the point that she's able to walk around freely without having her sight.

I believe this might be because Bessmert is an adult, more experienced arcanist, but also because her blindness might amplify her abilities, since she uses it to make up for her lack of sight.

Although of course here there's the issue if she's even an arcanist at all... or perhaps something else entirely.

Getian tells her, as they are waiting for the miracle of "Ask and acquire", that the pattern he saw in her bones is unlike anything he's ever seen and, therefore, he can't read them. He also said tit unnerved him to the point of wanting to run away. This makes me think that Bessmert might be especial in some way, perhaps in the same way Vertin is; being immune to the storm, and there is evidence for this, surprisingly.

First of all; most of the places we know about that are a "safe zone" to the storm have one common feature; a fog or something that makes people hallucinate, get exited and/or pass out. These features are all present in Vertin's suitcase, the Uluru stadium and the Aperion cave. Not only that, but we can assume the agent responsible for this effect is Asymetric Nucleide R, a compound that is also found on the Manus masks and on the storm raindrops.

Why is this relevent to Bessmert? Well, it seems like Pei City is actually surrounded by the same kind of fog as that in Aperion and Vertin's suitcase, and the origin of it is the temple where people used to go for the Divination.

Now, Bessmert acts surprised when hearing this explanations from Jiu, and we can especulate that it's because she has been to one of such places before, but regardless, we know she and her team encountered such fog before arriving to Pei City.

After following the direction Yenisei's skill tells them has the strongest arcane energy in the area, they arrive to a place where everything suddenly changes; it's different, odd, surrounded by a weird fog and, most importantly, makes them very tired to the point of almost passing out.

However, Bessmert remains unaffected by it all. She especulates it might be because she's used to high altitudes, but they're going downhill, so I doubt that's the case. Plus, even when we see Yenisei's vision getting cloudy and that she almost can't go on anymore, Bessmert remains compleatly unaffected.

This is all reminiscent of Vertin being compleatly unaffected in the suitcase's spinning wheel area, the Aperion cave and the Uluru Stadium, while others pass out pretty quickly, and it leads me to think that Bessmert, very likely, is also immune to the storm.

And there's one last piece of evidence here: Bessmert's name, which in Russian means "Without Death" or "Immortal", and likely has something to do with her ability to survive even the ends of multiple eras. Although I also think this isn't her real name for two reasons: firstly it'd be far too convinient, and also she's very likely not Russian, but Britlish. Why? Because every other Russian character has a Russian accent, while Bessmert's accent is distinctively British.

So what does all this evidence point towards? I think we all know the answer, right? Bessmert is, very likely, Vertin's mother, or at the very least related to Vertin in some way. But considering Vertin is searching for her mother since the beginning of the prologue, and all we know about that woman is that she's "special" (Constantine's words) and the Foundation tried to cover up her existance, this mysterious woman with a lot of characteristics similar to Vertin's seems like the prime candidate.

But that's not all. I'm about to tell u some other theories about who Bessmert is that, although might not be as impressive as being Vertin's mom, are also interesting.

First: She's Urd. Yes, the explorer that went to Aperion and then wrote a travel note about it. First of all because it really seems something that Bessmert would do; travel to a remote island in search of a mysterious cave that grants answers (like Ask and Acquire). But also because Urd is very likely a pseudonym, since Urd is a type of *bean* from Asia.

And finally... Notes on Shouri isn't Bessmert's debut on the R1999 events. In fact, she appeared at the start of the very first event; The theft of the rimet cup.

In case you need a refresher, the event starts up with the newspaper boy trying to sell a newspaper to a "lady in black", who then turns around and the boy notices she's blind.

At this point, the lady asks him to read the news for her, promising to pay for it, which he obliges. Now, we never see her face, but we hear her voice, and it's eerily similar to Bessmert's.

Not only that, but that same voice finishes up the event, apparently dictating an article about the events we see unfold thoughout the story for the UTTU magazine.

Now, of course Pandora Wilson is the main editor of UTTU, but I wouldn't be surprised if Bessmert sometimes wrote articles for it as well, since she's so knowledgable about arcanists, and has traveled all over the world.

So yeah, I believe Bessmert is this mysterious voice in the rimet cup event as well.

But what do you think? Am I overthinking about this one npc way too much? XD. Let me know in the comments!

[syrma-sensei]

Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.8: Broken Hearts.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Setting: In the early 80s.

Warnings: angst, angst, angst...

Word Count: 2.6k.

Summary: Soldier Boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

He's down ten points so far.

Ben glares at the assistant from Crisis Management who delivered him the news with indignant, green eyes. He snatches the newspaper from the poor guy's hands. His brow twitches in irritation as he reads this line.

America's golden son is a spoiled boy.

He scoffs at the title. But he gotta hand it to them, they're becoming more and more creative with the headlines. He snickers again. He won this country a goddamn war, and the first time people find out about his harmless recreational usage of coke, they immediately bite him in the ass.

Ungrateful fucks, he grunts. Should've let the Nazis kill them all.

He crumples up the page and tears it off with a sharp jerk of his hand.

“You talked to the house yet?” He grumbles. The fact is those shots of him sniffing powder shouldn't have been snapped in the first place. He fucking pays them to maintain some privacy for fuck’s sake.

“There’s been no answer yet, sir.” The assistant’s voice waver with caution. Well, he better be, because one wrong word and Soldier Boy would snap.

“Then get the fucking lawyers into this shit!” He growls, “Should I teach you your fucking job?!”

The assistant gulps, “R-Right away, sir.” He scurries away, back to his apartment. Fucking retard. That's what he gets when he relies on Vought to cover his ass; he gets fucked.

Nevertheless, it makes him wonder, who had the balls to do that?! To tarnish his reputation. He's aware that some people aren't so fond of him, but very few dared to speak out. Soldier Boy is the face of the US. Making him look bad is a direct attack on the fucking country.

He makes his way to Legend's office. He steps in without even bothering to knock.

“One day.” He enunciates, thinking one day is generous enough to have put a button on this shit, “If this ain't sorted out, I'll take matters into my fucking hand.”

Before Legend can utter a word, Ben leaves the room as quickly as he entered, heading back to his private quarters. Where he can be with one who can make him feel everything is okay.

“Hey, sweetheart…” He announces as he walks in. He finds you reading one of those fucking tabloids: Daily Supes. His eyes furrow.

You gaze up from the newspaper in your hands, “Ben, what's going on?” You say as you stand up, ambling towards him.

“I got fucking ambushed.”

You flinch a tad at the word. Does he know it was you? No, it's not possible, because if he did, you wouldn't have been here.

“Any idea on who it might be?” You ask gingerly.

“Not yet. But they're investigating it as we speak…” He sighs, “I gave them one day. If they don't bring me a name, I'll handle it myself. And tell ya one thing, it's gonna be ugly if I do.”

You gulp, tearing your gaze away from him, eyes are on the newspaper again.

“Hey,” He approaches you, taking the tabloid and tossing it aside. His hands cradle your face. “It’ll be alright, doll, I promise.” His voice is raspy, “It’s not the first time someone tries that kind of shit.”

You nod, putting on a small smile.

He smiles back, “Here it is,” He dips down and pecks your lips, “Oh, and for the record, Legend and I have been up to something for ya…”

“Something for me?”

“That's right.” He says, “You’re gonna sing another song, and with me.”

“Really?!” You gush, eyes sparkling.

“I’m not fucking with you, dollface, it'd be a shame not to let that pretty voice of your be of use.”

“When will that happen?”

“Once we sort this shit out.”

You feel a stab of guilt pierces through your chest. And now you know you truly fucked up. You fucking had the one-time chance and fucked it up. You could've bitten the bullet, found it in yourself to forgive Ben in time. And you would've lived a thousand times better life than anything you would imagine to come up with.

But you fucked it up.

You hold back the tears that start to burn your eyes, but they run down your cheeks anyway. Ben's brows furrow, “What’s wrong, baby?” He says in the gentlest voice ever.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hands, “I-It’s nothing…” You sniffle, “I just realised how lucky I am to have you… to be yours.”

Your stomach roils in convulsion at your sick lies. It's still a wonder to you that you're still capable of lying, and to the man you're falling in love with no less.

You're so fucked.

Ben kisses your tears away, then his mouth trails down to your lips. Soft and tender. And your tears pours down again. The question rises again… why does it have to be like this?

Ben wakes up from a nap after you two had… something akin to sweet sex. Could he call it lovemaking? Maybe. But one thing for sure, you looked and sounded beautiful when he fucked you. Your moans, your squirms, your tears of pleasure. All beautiful. Just like you. Sometimes he thinks it's the only thing he exceeds at. Making you feel good. Maybe he's finally good enough for someone, and he's glad that it's you. You deserve it.

He glances down at your, you're sleeping soundly, head resting on his chest. He smiles and kisses the top of your head before he expertly slither away from your hold.

Ben freshens up in the bathroom, then he makes himself a cigarette and smokes it in the living room of his chambers.

Then there's a knock on the door. “Soldier Boy… Mr. Edgar wants to see you.”

“Do you know what the fuck he wants?”

He shakes his head, “No, sir.”

Ben smacks his lips, waving his hand dismissively, “I’ll see him when I have time.”

“I’m afraid the matter is urgent sir. He persists to see you immediately.”

He grunts, puffing out a ring of smoke. “I’m here if he wants to have a little chit chat.”

“I’m afraid he wants to see you in his office, sir.”

Ben groans again and muffles the cigarette in the ashtray. “Fine,”

After five minutes, Ben is in Edgar's office.

“You wanted to see me, Stan?” Ben drawls as walks in.

The man smiles cordially at Ben, “Indeed, I did. Please have a seat.”

Ben sits in the chair across from Edgar's desk. He puts a leg over the other, and leans backwards into the backrest of the chair, putting his arms on the armrest. Ben might as well be swinging his dick, so that little shit knows his place.

Edgar's lips are still curling in that sickening smile, “I see you're so fond of Ms. (L/N)...”

“She’s a good girl who makes me cum without regret.” He asserts, he doesn't want to display any kind of affection he harbours for you to anyone, especially this man. Because he knows they'd use it against him in some way. And he won't have it.

Edgar chuckles, unfazed by Ben's crude words, “I must say, you make quite the couple.” Ben raises his brow.

But the amusement in Edgar's voice vanishes and it turns cold, “Your satisfaction with this company is a priority to us as long as it doesn't contradict with its best interests.”

Ben's eyebrows furrow, “Meaning?”

Edgar slides open a drawer to his desk and fetches a file and gives it to Ben.

“Meaning that any gimmickry against you is against us…”

Ben opens the file and his eyes widen as they land on pictures taken of you with some… gal.

“That young lady is Lana Miller, a journalist who works for Daily Supes, a vulgar tabloid. A resource claims she and Ms. (L/N) had an agreement. I’m afraid your girl has betrayed our trust.”

Ben doesn't heed Edgar's words as he remembers you reading the same exact tabloid this morning. You. The leak was you? Ben closes his eyes then opens them again, an attempt to digest it.

But why? Everything he ever did to you millions of women wouldn't have even dreamt of it. He took you in, salvaged you from that cunt, made you his. Loved you.

Edgar's rolling his lips talking, but Ben doesn't catch anything of what the formers said. “...I hope you understand.”

“What resource?” Ben asks calmly, yet his teeth grit.

Edgar clicks his tongue, “Theodore Adana.”

Ben snorts. That old fuck, the leader of The Church Of The Collective? Vought can't just believe anything comes out of that fraud’s mouth. For all he understands Edgar attended Theodore’s grandchild's baptism. They named him Alistair for Christ's sake. Why would he accuse you of such a thing in the first place? Could he possibly be one of your previous clients? No, Jack had no business in pulling in religious leaders.

Confusion gnaws on Ben's stomach when he looks down again at your pictures with the Lana chick, and he doesn't like it.

“No,” Ben answers.

“Pardon, Soldier Boy…”

“I’ll handle it.”

It came down to his hands after all.

“But…”

“I said I'll handle it!”

When you wake up, you don't find Ben next to you in bed. Instead, you wake up to your line ringing like crazy.

You pick up the handle of the telephone. “Hello—”

“Everything’s fucking crazy, (Y/N)!” You hear Lana’s voice shriek from the other end, you lift the phone away a bit. Then your eyes widen when you realise it.

“Are you nuts?! Calling me here!” You sit up, hushing your voice in fear of Ben being out in the living room.

“What does it matter?!” She shrieks again, “You have what you wanted, the bastard who killed your brother is busted in the balls. Anyway, we should meet…”

“Like hell we are…” You hiss, “You don't know what's happening here, they're looking for the culprit and if they knew I was the mole, I'd be dead.”

“That’s exactly why we should meet!” She inveigles, “We should hit them again before they know it. I made you a deal for an interview tomorrow night—”

You silence her, “You did what?!”

“Like I said we need to talk, but not with Vought being on our asses.”

You contemplate your options and finally give in. “Okay…”

“Here’s where we're gonna meet…”

You don't know how you managed to slip through the tower's heavy security, but you did anyway. Lana's spot is a park where you two can blend in without causing much attention.

She waves a hand at you and you sit next to her on a bench. You scan the park again. It's buzzing with life, kids shrinking and playing in the yard, families on picnic blankets. Your mind swaps you and Ben with one of those families, conjuring a picture of you two having a happy normal life.

You could've had it, but you fucked it up.

“You did so well, (Y/N)!” Lana says, roiling that image until it perishes in your head. The high pitch of her voice already starts to grate on your gears. “I mean having him snorting some nasty shit… you nailed it.”

You're not sure you should compliment yourself for that. Guilt stabs in your chest, and you fight it. He killed my brother. You reason with yourself. You can believe you're doing this. The man took your brother's life and you're agonizing over what you did to him. He had it coming. Another type of guilt pierces through your chest. You’re practically trying to convince yourself of something you are ready to turn a blind eye to. You can't believe it. Soldier Boy must've really done a number on you.

“Congratulations! You put your brother's soul to rest now.”

But did you put yours by doing that?

You gather your purse and stand up, “I don't want to have anything to do with this or you anymore.” Maybe it's too late, but you said it anyway.

The pompous glee in Lana's eyes vanishes as she looks up at you, “What do you mean? You still have to fight! Do you think Vought will just cut you loose when they find out it was you?”

“Are you threatening me, Ms. Miller?” You spit.

She bolts up on her feet, “No, but I'm not the one who's acting like a cum bucket to my brother's murderer.”

You slap her.

“You fucking slut!” She hisses at you, grabbing her reddened cheek. “I should've never put my hand in a whore’s like you.”

You chuckles bitterly at her low blow. “That’s right. Whores like me can't be trusted.” You shrug, “Now if I hear anything from you and I mean anything… I'll burn you and your stupid tabloid to fucking ground.”

“You’ll pay for this…”

“I’d like to see you try, bitch.”

Lana scurries away and you smile in triumph at her cowardly retreat. You expected more fight, but whatever. You turn on your heel, and your smile wavers as they fall upon none other than Ben himself. You startle on your spot.

Whores like me can't be trusted. Those words echo in Ben's mind as he stares at you. He dressed casually and followed you since you left the tower. He heard everything.

“Ben…” You say breathlessly.

“Was it you?” His voice is stringent, leaving no room for lying.

You look down then up at him again. You nod.

Bitterness mars Ben's face for a moment before it regains composure. He can't show vulnerability. Not to you, not to anyone.

“Do you care telling me fucking why?” His eyes swirl with the pain of betrayal, and it pours down on your back like an ice bucket.

Your breath goes choppy before you regain your aplomb again. Even though your eyes sting with tears, your voice doesn't break as you answer, “You killed my brother. Six years ago, you and your pals burnt down a building while chasing villains, you left many casualties behind, he was one of them. But you don't care, do you?” Your tears break their tension and spill in two rivulets rolling down your cheeks.

A heavy silence envelopes you two, only interrupted by the children's happy squeaks.

You search his face looking for anything akin to remorse, regret, that he's sorry, anything… but you find nothing but hard green eyes piercing through your soul.

“Did you get your revenge?” He asks, voice stoic, icy.

You take a step forward, “Ben it's—”

He raises his hand up, stopping you, “Answer the question.”

“You killed my brother, Ben… I wanted to hurt you, somehow.” You say through your tears, “You have my brother's blood on your hands…”

“He wasn't the first and won't be the last.” He asserts, “People die when they come in my way, (Y/N).”

A vein pulses in your temple, “Die… just die?!” You snap, “Those people have names, Ben! Have families, people who love them!” You grit your teeth, your tears aren't stopping, and your voice isn't helping you as it's cracking, “I hate you! I fucking hate you!”

You hate him for freeing you, for taking care of you, for making your heart beat, for making you question yourself, for killing your brother.

You fucking hate him.

“I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore.” You do him as you did that bitch. They came and here they go, in then out of your life, like most people do.

With that, Ben leaves you, and you collapse on the ground, you cry your heart out on the grass. Some people try to help you, but you push them away. You sit there all day long, until you return to your original home.

You return to Jack.

🦅 Previous chapter: The Scandal Date.

🦅 Next chapter: coming soon.

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist.

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin, @demodemo909

@mystic-mara, @jqtaro, @pepsicolacoochie, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@leavli, @robertthehoover, @soldiergrimes, @vanessa-boo, @uddiifiigj...

[9toji]

May I please get some of THAT 116 Toji please

1 — TOJI FUSHIGURO + PERVERT!

pairing; toji x fem! reader

warnings; toji is a big fat perv, slight nsfw, hints of masturbation, very dirty toji thoughts, toji charms his way into you(r life), a portion of it his imagination (its italicized), panty stealer

rina's comments ; this is sooo.. such a good idea, thank you so much for sending in this!! enjoy <3

imagine toji, a sweet man who lives an apartment away from yours. exceptionally handsome, and may i say rugged. he has the build of a a boxer, always wearing tight black shirts and grey sweatpants, his eyes are always low and droopy whenever he talks to you. but he's a gentleman with charm, right?

he thinks its endearing, the way you don't even know his real intentions. that way, he can help you up whenever you stumble or trip, maybe a little contact with your clothed boobs and an unmistakable squeeze on your hips. toji taunts you too, taking your phone from your hand as you mindlessly scroll through it, “whatcha lookin' at?” he asks slowly, another smirk etching his face as you try to reach it from his grasp. seeing your cleavage was heaven, silently thanking you for your low-cut shirts.

you can't deny the fact his charm although used rarely works wonders on you, making you feel very warm and giggly around him. toji grins at you sleazily, saying that he's accustomed to smiling at people like that and that he's sorry, “might seem weird or creepy” he said. oh, but he doesn't smile like that at other people at all, some might say that you're the only one he smiles at.

your always tired looking neighbor always drops by the laundry inside the apartment building's basement at the same time you do, but he leaves earlier than you. which made you wonder why some of your underwear had been taken from your laundry basket. it's a mystery, who else would've gotten it?

can't be toji, he leaves early and the man is nice, too nice. toji always helps you in one way or another, dropping by your apartment with a handful of essential goodies, like toilet paper, or more tide pods for your laundry. he does it regularly, at early hours of the morning too.

but why? you had just woken up, wearing a spaghetti-strap night gown top and silk shorts. toji got that information when he did it the first time, reminding you about something regarding your plants and watering them. he saw the way you looked so sleepy, but took advantage of the way you were clothed before you wore casual shirts and pants. he loved the way you looked up, grinning sleazily. “good morning” he growled, masking it in a sweet, sweet tone.

eyes unknowingly traveling down to your chest and to your waist, licking his lips and chuckling, “my lips are kinda dry." toji giving you a headpat before you closed the door, and as he walks away to his apartment everyday, he makes sure to engrain your image into his mind for later.

toji gets itchy when you're off at work, wanting to see you as much as possible. that's where his piles of your “lost” panties come in handy. he leans back on to the wall while sitting down on his bed, pushing his shirt up with a shaky hand along with pulling down his greyish sweatpants. his hands grip on to his shaft, along with the piece of fabric that he had snatched away from you. you wouldn't know anyways.

his skillful hands wrap the spot where your cunt touched the fabric onto his dock, pleasuring himself has never been better he thought. it was so perfect, it never fails to make him cum, his right hand squeezing his length as he thought about you, smearing the pre-cum all over so it gets slippery.. “gonna cum on that pretty face of yours, yeah?” he grins, smearing his pre-cum on the fabric so that your panties could swiftly move up n down swiftly.

toji's groans are animalistic, “you.. you look so fuckin' good..” his eyes get teary, imagining you, with your wide eyes and cheery grin. hands wrapped around his cock, maybe he could see your pretty face get smeared with cum, hoping you'd take a fingerful and taste it. “gonna taste it? fuck, you.. whore.. fuckin' know you are." and when he cums, he puts the panties on his tip, cleaning it with it.

“toji.” you babble, hands messily gripping his cock. toji shook, his sweat dripping down his chest.. and his thighs twitched at your touch. “feel so good baby, shit–squeeze it a bit more f'me.” toji sighed, running his hand through his own locks, watching you help him please himself with those skillfull hands of yours.

a shaky sigh and the messy attempt to fix himself came soon after, knowing your arrival will be in an hour or two. he wouldn't want you hearing him groan, at least not yet. toji isn't close enough with you, he needs to be.. so that he can get exactly what he wants without looking like a pervert.

which he is, but for now you didn't need to know that.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Well, dear mutual, I'm curious to what you think Ink's and Killer's dynamic would be? I always like hearing other peoples opinions on these things since there's things I may miss (even if they differ from my own)! Especially considering they fought once, I wonder how that would influence things...

Here's a kitty for your time! ❤️💕

Ooohh cute kitty!! (The petting motions r doing something nice for my brain.)

Also I mentioned briefly in asks about Error & Killer where I figured that Ink would find Killer hilarious and cool & thats the exact reason why he’s tryna convince error not to kill Killer.

So yeah I basically envision this thing where Error & Ink are basically lonely asf and also Error wants to piss off Nightmare so he snatches up Killer whenever the fuck he wants to.

And Killer’s like, “this is a fever dream. Might as well happen,” whenever Ink questions him about why he seems so okay with it. (And also Killer wants to spite NM too lmao.)

So like, I imagine that Error, Ink, and Killer just chill in the Anti-Void and this is basically what Killer’s enforced breaks look like. Error’s ranting and raving, either about his tv show or ink or nightmare or what have you. Ink’s sitting on the floor and drawing to his non existence heart’s content.

And Killer’s just staring off into the distance, dissociated as hell, petting his cats in an effort to stay grounded. Error was surprisingly nice enough to let him have the bean bag.

And I can see like a little moment where ink gets too excited, throws up in killer’s lap, and also makes a wide gesture too close to killer that has him instinctively lashing out and stabbing ink.

And killer freezes for a moment, wondering what’s about to happen—almost excited even—only for error to start bitching at ink for throwing up on his beanbag chair & ink’s is laughing it off while removing the knife from their arm.

Says something like he’s gonna keep it, only killer immediately reaches out and snatches his knife back, snapping that it’s his, not Ink’s. Keep your hands off his shit unless you wanna lose them.

And Ink just laughs, not bothered by it, comments that this is the most reaction they’ve gotten out of him in weeks. From what Ink knows of Killer, he was expecting him to be more talkative. To which Killer probably says something like, “find me on a work day then.”

And then what Ink said catches up to him, and suddenly Killer asks, “what do you know about me.”

And maybe that prompts a discussion about Players and Creators and AUs and the like. And Killer realizes that Ink knows more about him than he knows about himself. Such as what is and isn’t real.

Maybe Ink can offer him some clarity, somehow. Maybe through their drawings and art and the like.

As for the fact that they have fought before. Id imagine that killer would be more on edge at first, even if it may not seem that way. Watching Ink, observing him—trying to see if they have any hang ups about it. If Ink is going to be a problem for him. He’d love to hash it out. (Violently. With knives.)

But Killer doesn’t really wanna go back to Nightmare and he doubts Error is gonna take him back until he wants to, so instead Killer just doesn’t react in one way or another. Not wanting to express anything about himself until he knows what he’s dealing with.

And I’m sure ink knows something is up, but I doubt they’d place that much care into the fighting—especially if he already has forgotten them by this point. I mean, he’s chilling with Error. I doubt hed have a problem with any squabbles between themself and Killer.

I think they’d develop this chaotic friendship where they just kinda get eachother, you know. Ink understands Killer’s emotionlessness, Killer understands Ink’s memory issues. I’d highly doubt they’d have any issues with eachother that most tend to have with them—such as the typical interpretation of Ink being “too much” or “too hyper,” and I feel like Killer would just play into ink’s energy.

And I feel like Killer wouldn’t really feel any need to mask his apathy or sense of emotionlessness around ink, mostly because ink doesn’t really seem to mind when killer is quiet or unresponsive and not actively pretending to be someone he’s not—ink is willing to do whatever talking needed. And even if killer has a hard time paying attention or remembering what ink is talking about, he never tells ink to shut up either.

The two of them having meta awareness may also affect things.

Also, I’m pretty sure the both of them struggle with empathy—and killer at least is known for pushing boundaries, wanting to test and poke and prod to understand things—and yet very protective of his own “red lines”. So I’m sure this may show up as a rocky point in their relationship at some point, just like with error and killer, but I’m not quite sure how.

Ink may find themself often being stabbed, simply because Killer’s body often tends to react on instinct. So I’m sure they’ll eventually learn to keep some distance between themselves.

Ink may consider Killer a friend, Killer at most would probably say he finds Ink interesting. (They’re besties I swear. Killer just doesn’t understand friendship 😔 )

Anyway. More knowledgeable Ink fans are always free to comment on or expand/change wherever you think is needed.

( @toffeebrew ).

[witchpassing]

catching strays [4/final]

[prev] [first]

content notes: undernegotiated BDSM, use of transphobic slurs.

My side of it - that’s, I mean to say, the handler side - it’s mostly just operant conditioning. All the really complex stuff happens on the neurochemical level; I was never trained in the processes there, didn’t have the right PhD to get my head around it. Didn’t need to know what was happening in the black box to, uh. Pull the levers. Look, it’s all in the documents, alright? I even got you the formula for the cocktail.

You know what operant conditioning is, right? Haven’t shot all your behaviorologists yet? Ha, ha. Just… just a little joke. 

Thud of meat on meat echoes off the cigarette-stained ceiling. Rook lists to her right, cherry-red drool spilling from a fucked lip; “Position six,” Katya spits, hammering the keyphrase back in, and the pilot’s stance corrects itself with a visceral hindbrain twitch. Down on her knees, fingers interlaced at the base of her skull. Through the mess, she manages to get out: 

“Front of your hand.”

“I don’t think I asked you a question, pilot,” Katya says, military-issue ice. Rook works her sore jaw, keeps talking; head down, eyes low, like she’s not fucking baiting her.

“Palm’s softer than, than the back,” she says. “Less bone. Need to give me time to, clench my jaw, too. ‘r it might get dislocated.” Grins up at Katya out of the corner of her eye. “Then what’m I gonna tell the vet?”

Again. Of course. Harder this time, hard enough to put Rook into a facedown sprawl. Katya watches her try to get up, watches the tendons work beneath her skin, fingers dug into ratty carpet, dark tangle of hair sweat-stuck to cheekbone. Heave of her scapulae, sweat beading on the blades like dew. 

She visualises the point of contact, the way the bruise, when it forms in a couple of hours, will print the shape of her knuckles upon Rook’s face. Casually, as if it means nothing at all, Katya leans down and -

“Position six, fuckup.” 

- spits on her. 

I told you already, there wasn’t - there wasn’t time, you understand? The writing was on the wall - your writing, on your wall - I had to take what I could and get out. They were burning shit, shredding it, whatever they thought would keep the vultures off their backs. 

I had a file. Everyone had a file. It wasn’t special, because I wasn’t special. There’s nothing in there you need to hear. If it ever surfaces, I promise - it’ll bore you to tears. 

Rook’s nails scrabbling at her arm, keratin and polycarbonate, marking tallies in the skin. She hisses, adjusts her footing in the mattress, winds the chokehold tighter. Rook is taller, heavier, younger, fitter, and none of it is really helping because she’s not fighting back the way a person would; she can’t, Katya is Handler and you don’t fucking fight Handler. This, pulsing livid from the brainstem, is the blindfire of an animal brain that thinks it’s being killed and doesn’t know what to do about it. 

“Look at you,” Katya murmurs into her ear; Rook whines back, base and guttural, shudder and twitch. “Pissing away the People’s money for a cheap little adrenaline high.” Framing it like that feels good in her gut. The momentary satisfaction of breaking something flimsy and pathetic, stretched over several hours like taffy. Spit on Rook’s bare shoulder. Spit in the great red eye of Revolution. Another hitch tighter. “How much therapy is it gonna take to paint this over? How many weeks are we tacking onto your recovery timeline here - don’t struggle, you deserve this, take it or tap out you weak little shit--” 

Rook - eyes rolled half-back in her head, so hard that it’s a wonder the blood choke hasn’t put her under yet - whimpers out something that might be sorry sorry sorry Ma’am sorry, stops kicking, doesn’t tap. 

No, I never… nothing like that. Jesus, what the hell do you take me for? I came in, didn’t I? I risked my goddamn neck for you, I got you everything I could, that doesn’t get me some kind of - benefit of the doubt? Yeah, I was in the program, and yes, that meant doing some pretty sick shit to keep my head above water, but there is a critical distiction here that I think you’re not getting your head around: some of us were doing it for fun, because we liked it, and I was never one of those. 

“--And you already know what you’re going to tell the vet, because it’ll be the same - ghn - thing you always tell them, Rook; you went to a bar, you found the worst person there, and you convinced them to beat you until you felt a little better about your sad fucking life. You don’t even have to lie, Rook, because that’s exactly what you’re doing, exactly what you’ve done before a dozen fucking times, I know you have, you’re hooked on this shit-”

“Handler-” 

“Shut the fuck up, position five, I’m talking.” 

“S-sorry, sorry, sorry-” 

“You don’t get into fights because you’re a Junta vet, or a tranny who can’t pass, or any other kind of broken wing shit - don’t you know, Rook? This is their clean bright world, and they’re making it better every day! Bad things just don’t happen any more, not even to people like you. No, you get beaten ‘cause you want it, because you’re a bad dog and you need to be kicked.” 

“Hgk--” 

“What, you got something to say? You got something to say for yourself, you pathetic fucking--” 

-

Doe. Her name was Doe. I had her three years, and I never laid a hand on her. 

-

Spatter of sleet on dirty window; dim light bathing the ceiling, slanting sodium-yellow into a corner, sloping away. Katya locks her jaw against something unformed and pathetic, smears her cramping fingers against her thigh. Glistening slug-trail of her own cooling slick. It’s not working, it’s not enough. 

Not even close. 

Rook is curled at the foot of her bed, hazed out on recauterised conditioning and oxygen deprivation and what might be the first fresh bloom of a concussion. Katya can’t see her, but she can hear her breathing, ragged and slow through a bruise-blued throat. Now and then, a hypnic jerk, a yip. Chasing cars in her shallow sleep.

Katya knows that if she calls Rook to her, if she uses her for this, she’ll run out of stories to tell herself. For once, she understands where she stands in the moment, instead of in hindsight: just shy of the line, just this side of the event horizon. There will be no more plausible deniability, no matter what she tries to say. 

But the room is dark- 

and the door is locked- 

and nobody will ever know. 

Katya clicks her tongue, tchk-chk. Lets her head roll back, her eyes flutter shut. At the foot of her bed, Rook wakes.

“Here, girl.” 

She feels the mattress shift as Rook levers herself up. Hot breath between her parting thighs, a squirm of electricity in the base of her spine. An ache like permafrost cracking, and fuck she’s needed this, needed it for years, not just the desperate conciliatory tell-me-I’m-good-again head but every pathological detail, every thud of her hand against sorry, begging meat, every death-hissed trigger, the way ma’am sounds on a broken girl’s tongue. Nothing else has ever come close to being enough.

Even now, it should be disgusting how much blood there is in Rook’s spit, but she doesn’t care. If the pilot is carrying something, Katya has been sick with it for years. 

So she fists her grip in her hair, shoves her down, and twists her ankles tight around her head, as if anything left in that burned-out skull would let her stop before her Handler comes. 

-

No, I don’t know what her real name was. 

I get… terms, right? I get to negotiate? I gave you a lot, I should…

I don’t want to talk about this any more. 

-

Crouching half-clothed in her tiny bathroom, rinsing a spiral of runoff off Rook’s nakedness. Not aftercare, exactly; she’s never given it before, and she’s not starting now. Just… didn’t really sound like a good idea to kick Rook out while she still looked like a fresh traffic accident. Medical kit under the kitchen counter. Work to be done, to keep the vultures off her back. 

“All that about giving you what you deserve,” she says, over the hush of the shower. “It was bullshit.” 

Rook lifts her head, good eye pushing open against the bruise. “Ma’am?” 

“Telling myself I was punishing you. Teaching you a lesson.” Her fingers itch for a cigarette. “You had something you wanted from me, and you figured out the right sequence of words to take it.” 

The pilot murmurs, almost too quiet for her to hear: 

“You alright down there, girl? Looks like you got a real working over.”

“Oh, fuck you, asshole. Maybe you do deserve me.”

Rook laughs.

[jjsmaybank20]

please could i request a top!reader x bottom!santana.

It’s like she acts all big and bad in glee club and R always calms her down then someone talks bad about her, like Rachel with the stripper line about her and the usually calm and collected peace keeper R changes at a snap of a mf finger. You see Quinn and Britt’s eyes go wide asf and Santana goes to cuss out Rachel but R stops her, putting a hand on her chest and sitting her back down and does the sweetest smile toward Rachel.

Quinn and Britt be like: oh you messed tf up that’s her murder smile!

Santana gets confused and hurt like wtf why is her gf letting yentl bad mouth her but then sees the murder smile on her gf and sits back folding her arms and smiling evilly.

In the end R gets sent home and Santana drives her taking the rest of the day off too.

Once they get to R’s room santana is like ‘that was so hot’ and decides her knight in shining flannel armour deserves a reward for saving her from the big hairy beast called Rachel Berry and her tall lap dog and lets R do whatever she desires to her😏

My Defender

Santana Lopez x fem!reader

Summary: You protect your girlfriend form Rachel's hurtful comments, and in return you get to do whatever you want to her.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI fluff, oral (Santana receiving), fingering (Santana receiving)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Hope you like it! My smut isn't spectacular.

navigation glee masterlist

---

A lot of people wondered how you and Santana had such a healthy relationship, but your close friends knew it was because you balanced each other out. She was the chaos, and you were the power that reigned it in. Every time Santana would want to go off on someone, you would be the voice of reason, the voice that talked her down. Now, as you were approaching Valentine’s Day, you and Santana were so wrapped up in each other that nothing could bother either of you. Nothing except for one Rachel Berry.

Mr. Shue begins to write something down on the board, announcing that week's lesson. “Alright guys, I have one word for you.” Brittany raises her hand enthusiastically, and Mr. Shue calls on her when he turns around. “Is it love?” She then turns to her boyfriend and quietly says, “Totally gonna graduate now.”

Mr. Shue and some of the Glee members look at her, confused, before shaking it off and getting back on track. “Valentine’s day is coming up. So, for this week's lesson, I want you guys to pick a partner, because you're going to sing to them what you think is the world's greatest love song. Yeah, find a song that communicates all the things that love means to you. Now, partner up.” You and Santana glance at each other, smiling and already knowing that the other person would be their partner. Finn raises his hand before asking, “Mr. Shue, can I say something?” Mr. Shue waves him up and Santana rolls her eyes at the boy.

“I just wanted to point out that for the first time, an entire week has gone by without any one of us getting slushied.” Everyone looks around for a second in surprise before beginning to clap. Almost everyone stops clapping as Finn continues on with his speech. “I think the fact that I led the football team to a conference championship might have something to do with it. The fact is that I’m the closest thing that this Glee club has to a celebrity right now, and just like a famous athlete, I want to give to a charity. You guys. So I’m setting up a kissing booth. For a dollar a smooch. And donating the proceeds to Glee club, to help us-”

Mercedes rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, interrupting him. “Don’t even act like you tryna help this glee club out, you just wanna kiss a bunch of girls.” Your girlfriend scoffs next to you before piping up, saying, “I’ve kissed Finn, and can I just say? Not worth a buck. I would, however, pay a hundred dollars to jiggle one of his man-boobs.” You sigh exasperatedly when she brings up the fact that she has kissed him, and she grabs your hand in comfort.

“Do you ever get tired of tearing other people down?” Santana pretends to think about it for a second before leaning back. “No, not really.” Finn shrugs his shoulders, sounding smug. “Cause you always just seem to be meddling in other people’s business.” Santana rolls her eyes, looking around the room.

“Oh please, you guys love me. I keep it real, and I’m hilarious.” You nod in agreement, and you see that Quinn and Brittany are nodding as well. “Actually, you're just a bitch,” Lauren states from where she is sitting next to Puck. Everyone ooos and Santana scoffs angrily. You begin to get angry as well, but you don’t show it as obviously on your face.

Rachel stands up from where she is seated, and that’s when you knew that shit was about to go down. “The truth is Santana, you can dish it out but you can’t take it. Okay, maybe you're right, maybe I am destined to play the title role in the Broadway musical version of Willow, but the only job your going to have is working on a pole.”

Everyone looks at the two of them in shock, but Quinn and Brittany watch you carefully. They see your eyes darken in anger and they watch as you clench your hands into fists. Santana doesn’t seem to notice, and she stands up to cuss Rachel out. “Okay, fine. You wanna be like that? ¿Voy a ser stripper? Bueno, todo lo que vas a ser es una vieja bruja de Broadway sin amor-” You grab her waist and pull her down before giving Rachel a sickly sweet smile.

Santana looks at you, confused and hurt that you were being so nice to the girl who said such an offensive thing about her, but then she sees Quinn and Brittany mouthing for her to take a closer look at you. She sees the smile on your face, and she instantly recognizes it as the one that people call your ‘murder smile’. It was the same smile you had on your face right before you broke Karofsky’s nose for throwing a slushie on Santana. The Latina leans back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest and grinning evilly.

You slowly stand up and turn around to face Rachel, who still has a smug and satisfied look on her face. You tilt your head to the side, still smiling at her, before bringing your fist back and punching her straight in the face. Her head flies back and you move to continue hitting her, but Mike and Sam restrain you before you can do any further damage.

Mr. Shue sends you to the principal’s office, and Principal Figgins decides that you need to be sent home and that you are suspended from school for a couple of days. You accept your punishment with no regrets, not at all angry to be getting in trouble for defending your girlfriend.

She decides to take the rest of the day off and drive you home, and you know that you are in for a treat when you see her lustful gaze on you the entire car ride to your house.

---

When you get into your room, you drop your things on the ground. When you turn around, you see your girlfriend stalking towards you before she wraps her arms around your neck. She places a kiss on your lips before saying quietly, “You punching Berry was hot. I think you deserve a reward for being my defender, so I’m going to let you do whatever you want to me.”

You grin in excitement before you push her down onto the bed, kissing her passionately. Your hands explore her body, and soft moans escape her mouth as your bodies fit together perfectly.

''You're so pretty, Santana Lopez.'' Your hand makes its way to clasp her face, staring into her eyes fondly before kissing her hard. Smiling into the kiss, Santana feels her cheeks warm up at the compliment.

''I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.'' Santana pushed her body up against yours, but you press back, maintaining control and making her fall onto her back. Staring at you in a haze of lust, she watches as you climb on top of her.

Your hands cup her breasts over her top, and you help her strip into her underwear. You kiss down her body, watching her shiver beneath you. Biting her thighs softly as you make your way closer to her dripping center, your hand stroked over her damp underwear. Smirking, you look up at Santana. Your hands make their way to the top of her underwear and you pull them down her thighs.

You begin lightly sucking on her clit, watching her shake with pleasure. Your fingers were playing with her opening, as you moved your tongue in circular motions. Santana's back began to arche up as she moaned loudly into the room, her hands grasping onto your hair pushing your head further between her thighs.

''Fuck, it feels so good. Please don't stop.'' her breath turned into pants as she moaned, moving your head with her hands. Riding your tongue, your fingers getting deeper and deeper inside her with every movement.

You continue this motion until you feel Santana’s body begin twitching, getting ready to climax. You moved away from her, removing your fingers from inside her and watched as she whimpered. Her eyes teared up as she tried to move against you to gain some type of friction.

''Please, let me cum Y/N,'' Her body was still twitching, her clit pulsating. ''Please.'' Santana begged, whining at you. You begin playing with her nipples, twirling them between your fingers as she gasps at the touch.

You wait for a few moments, watching Santana pitifully beg to be touched by you before placing a singular finger inside of her. You move your face so that it is inches away from her clit as your girlfriend moans with pleasure above you.

''You told me that I could do anything to you. Now, I might be nice, and I might let you cum, or I might not.'' there was an evil glint in your eye as you spoke, and a big smirk was plastered on your face.

You move slowly inside of Santana, watching her whimper for more.

''Please, be nice,'' she gasped, biting her lips as your free hand continued to play with her nipples.

''Only because you asked so kindly.'' You pinch her clit between your fingers, pulling a scream from the beautiful girl above you. Her legs were shaking as you inserted another finger inside of her, curling them up and pressing on her G-spot. 

You bury your face in between Santana’s legs, licking her clit with your tongue as your fingers move quickly inside of her. Santana’s hands moved back to clasp your hair, riding your face once more. Moaning loudly as her body twitched, Her eyes rolled back and she shook violently.

''Fuck, I'm cumming-'' she moaned loudly into the room.

You continue to push your fingers inside of her, helping her ride out the aftershocks. When she pushes your head away due to overstimulation, you crawl back up her body and kiss her lazily. She moans at the taste of herself, and you roll off of her making her whine. 

“Relax, baby. I’m just getting a cloth so that I can clean you up.” She shakes her head and pulls you back down next to her, snuggling into you. You don’t fight against it, knowing this is what your girlfriend needs. “Seriously though, thank you for defending me against Berry. I could have done it myself, but still. It means a lot to me. I love you.” 

You hug her closer to your body, and you place a gentle kiss on her head. “I love you too, baby. I’ll always protect you, no matter what.” The two of you cuddle together until you feel yourself drifting off. You know that when you wake up, your beautiful girlfriend will still be there with you, and you can’t help but dream about how much you love her.

---

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[crushedsweets]

I loved the ask about ticciwork what it would be like if they were able to date! Now I was wondering what that would be like with Jack and Toby!

Though I’m not sure if they have the same chemistry as ticciwork. 😭

Btw you have forever engraved ninakate to my soul LMAO I love them so much!! ❤️

I ABSOLUTELY CAN i think theyre super cute + i have a really sweet ticcijack ask i wanna draw soon. im gonna go off on a tangent about their upbringing and how that'd impact their sexuality tho, cuz i think that'd be relevant .

this was written more like notes for a one-shot of them getting together, rather than the format i did for ticciwork

ok. so for starters, toby has a huge wall to get over. i dont really have sexuality hcs for many of the creeps (jane and kate r lesbians, lius a gay man, ninas bi are my only concrete hcs) BUT i know toby's upbringing involved his dad constantly demeaning him for being 'feminine' (anytime he did something with lyra), a pussy, calling him slurs, telling him to man up, insulting any gay man he might see on tv, etc. and toby hates his dad, so he'd have an easy time being like 'ok whatever old man like i give a shit if a guy fucks a guy' BUT he would still feel a ton of guilt and shame if he were attracted to a guy.

jack might be a little similar, not because his dad was constantly berating him, but he still grew up in a pretty traditional house and his uncles/cousins would often tease him cuz he liked to cook and bake and had a lot of empathy. but he also went to university, and while it was still in alabama, a lot of colleges and stuff are a lot more progressive so it wasn't something he dwelled on much. live and let live, basically

AND AS A RESULT, it would be MUCH harder for either of them to make a move. toby would push any feelings down so fucking fast, and jack would just shrug it off and say he doesn't have like.. the "right" to have such emotions. after all he's done.

but they've also had a ton of intimate moments. the amount of times toby's been sat in his boxers while jack has to stitch up his stomach is kinda obnoxious. the amount of times jack checks toby's temperature and scolds him for dumb shit. toby scoffing and grabbing jacks wrist to pull his hand off, but his touch lingers

jack wears his mask a lot, but toby would make a comment. "i wanna see what you look like. it cant be THAT bad." and then jacks like ? asshole. so toby backtracks and is like "ok but if it is bad, thats kinda cool" and jacks like 'dude shut up'. but then toby would try and go on about 'im serious man you're over here stitching me up every other week and im practically the only person you talk to. let me see' and jack thinks about it. maybe not that day, but eventually he would.

if toby has already kinda come to terms with liking guys, OR he's so oblivious to his own feelings, he might say something stupid like "oh shit you're hot dude why do u wear that stupid ass mask" and jack would get embarrassed. and try to put it back on, but toby would snatch it and toss it on some counter and say "ok well now i know so stop wearing it" and jacks like. ok. fuck you. fine.

and toby stares a lot. like. a lot a lot. and jack kind of knows. the echolocation and thermavision helps him know toby's head is turned his way, but he can't exactly pinpoint where toby's eyes are. but he keeps turning away

toby would eventually just ask 'you gotta know im looking at you , right?' and jack is like ...well i thought so. thanks for confirmation. and toby laughs it off but jack is getting embarrassed

jacks feelings would develop slowly and he'd recognize every single moment he feels something. tobys would develop more rapidly, but he has no fucking idea what he's feeling is romantic. he thinks jacks attractive as fuck, he likes intelligent people, he likes how jack challenges tobys toxic ass mindset (only after the fact, hates it in the moment), and jack does a lot for him. patches him up, cooks him good meals.

the ask i mentioned said something about jack touching toby's lip and toby keeps looking at jacks lips and theres crazy tension etc etc etc. i genuinely dont know who would kiss who first.

if it were jack, toby would sit there kinda stunned, and jack would pull away and fumble out an apology. then toby tells him to do it again. and again, and again.

if it were toby, jack would immediately kiss back. he's had it on his mind for a long time, but genuinely didnt think anything would come.

toby would ask what now. he wants jack to set some sort of guidelines. he hates rules but holy shit does he not know how to navigate this, not with jack. jack would shrug it off and theyd try not to talk about it. toby might not come back to see jack for a while, but end up really hurt and dragged there to get his arm popped back into place. and jack would have to ask why he stopped visiting.

toby would admit it, finally. something about 'because i fucking like you and its really fucking weird and i dont wanna ruin the whole medic patient pal thing we got going on but this entire fucking time ive been avoiding you, im thinking about you a hundred times more'. and jack would ask why he thinks its weird. and theyd talk for a while

jack would ask toby if he could kiss him again, and toby would say yes.

[thezombieprostitute]

Changing Minds - Part 8

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: Mild violence and mentions of blood. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU.

Part 7 -- Epilogue

Series Masterlist

The day of the Tea Party you hold Nick’s hand as much as you can in the car. While it’s impossible to really have a plan for what’s going to happen, you’ve talked through some plans for what to do if things go bad. Nick made sure you memorized the directions to the nearby Cairo Hotel and to ask for the manager, Jonathan Pine. As a fail-safe Nick had reserved a room under both of your names.

Nick parks the car but stops you from getting out. He gently holds your chin and, eyes full of worry, he pleads, “promise me, if anything happens, you’ll get out. Don’t stop or try to help me. You just get the hell out of there.”

“It wouldn’t look good if your girlfriend just bolted,” you argue.

“If things go south there’s gonna be a lot of chaos and a lot of things could go bad,” he asserts. “You run to the hotel. I’ll do better if I know you’re safe. Please.”

“I can’t promise that, Nick,” you object. “Believe it or not, I do actually care about you and don’t want you killed because I decided to provoke him.” Nick’s eyes widen at your confession so you continue, “it’s not romantic care. Not right now. But we’ve been friendly for so long, I can’t say it wouldn’t hurt to lose you.”

“Thank you for that,” he whispers. “But I can’t let you go to this party unless you promise me you’ll take care of yourself first.”

“Fine,” you acquiesce. “But I get to decide what taking care of myself first looks like.”

“I suppose that’ll have to do,” he smiles softly. “You can be so delightfully stubborn.”

Part of you wants to believe he is interested in being more than just friends. That his words are heartfelt compliments. You brush those thoughts away and mumble, “let’s just get this over with.”

You’re a little disappointed that the rooftop garden is so much a garden as it is a rooftop lawn. There aren’t any plants aside from grass and some plain green bushes that have been trimmed into neat, orderly box shapes. The only color is provided by the pink tablecloths that adorn the few designated eating areas. It makes you wonder if your dress is out of place and too colorful for the occasion. 

There were other people already in attendance. A small group of young ladies posing for their phones, smiling and laughing. A few gentlemen who were clearly dragged along by the young ladies, sitting and grumpily staring at their phones, occasionally discussing whatever it is rich young people discuss. And Clark Kent, directing the catering staff and telling the bartender to not let his nephew have more than two drinks. 

Being the polite guests that you are, you and Nick make sure to tell Clark that you’ve arrived. He plasters on his best fake smile to greet you, not even bothering to look at Nick. 

“Ah, sweet Lady, you brighten this party with your presence,” he schmoozes, taking your hand to kiss it. “Sincerely, I feel out of place with all of these young ones. It’s nice to have someone mature to have a conversation with.”

“Yes, Nick and I do seem to be the only adults on the guest list,” you comment. “Are you hosting this for someone else?”

Clark sighs, “my nephew is trying to impress his girlfriend. Apparently she’s trying to make it big on Instagram, or whatever. He’s hoping attending a party hosted by Clark Kent will be good for her profile and, thus, good for him.”

“Ah,” you smile. “Kids in love are so adorable.”

Clark scoffs, “it isn’t ‘love’ it’s just horny college boy stuff.”

“Oh,” your smile falls. “He told you as such?”

“No, but I remember being that age,” he retorts. “All that’s on his mind is getting laid.”

“I remember being that age as well,” Nick interrupts. “And I remember thinking it was love.”

“And clearly it wasn’t,” Clark rebutted. “Or else you wouldn’t be here with this lovely Lady today.”

“Not all love can be true love,” Nick countered. “But it can still be real. You take the lessons you learn from that love and apply them to the next, in an effort to keep it.” He looks at you, eyes soft, yet steely with determination. “Maybe it’ll even become a true love with time and work.”

“Agree to disagree, I suppose,” Clark rolls his eyes as he smiles. “I’ll believe in love when it actually happens.”

“Given how things worked out for us, I’m inclined to agree with Nick,” you banter. “Sometimes life makes us too cynical, too hard on ourselves, to see real love. I think it’s why I adore when younger people are in love. It’s so cute and pure. But, this is clearly something we’re not all going to agree on so how about we just enjoy the food, drink and company?”

Nick kisses the back of your hand, “my Lady is so very wise.”

“Agreed,” Clark hums. “Feel free to partake of any of the food and drink that interest you. And do let me know how you like it. I need to make sure to leave feedback for the caterer.”

About an hour into the party you find yourself enjoying the company of the younger folk. They’re a lot like the young people you work with and you almost feel like “the cool aunt” with how willing they are to open up to you, how they light up when you ask more about their ideals and dreams. Nick stays with you and follows your lead. He hasn’t seen you so relaxed and happy in a while and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way. 

He also keeps an eye on Clark, who is sulking near the bar. You’d clearly been invited to keep him company but you’re enjoying the company of everyone else. Nick’s lost track of the number of refills Clark’s gotten on his drink but it’s definitely been enough to start affecting him. The casual observer might be fooled but Nick notices the slight tells of Clark being buzzed, closing in on drunk. 

To be honest, though, a drunk Clark Kent isn’t Nick’s primary concern; it’s the Instagram girl constantly taking photos and videos. Nick doesn’t care much for putting his face out in public but the young lady is insistent on getting everyone in view. He’s grateful when you comment about him being painfully camera shy and go out of your way to block his face when you can. 

At least until the Instagram girl tells all of her followers how much fun you are. When that pronouncement comes out everyone hears Clark shout, “she’s supposed to be talking with me! Not you young idiots!” He comes storming over to you and Nick immediately jumps in his way, hands out in a calming, placating manner.

“Mr. Kent,” Nick entreats, “you’ve had a lot to drink today. Please take a breath and consider what–” He’s interrupted by a punch to the face. 

“NICK!” You immediately run to him to see if he’s okay. 

Your scream seems to pierce Clark’s drunken state and he shakes his head trying to clear it. That’s when he sees the phone is still out. Still live-streaming. He looks over to you and Nick and closes the distance to punch Nick again, this time putting him on the ground.

“You did this on purpose,” Clark shouts. “You set me up for ruin with your schemes and plots!”

“Mr. Kent,” you scold, “we are your guests. You invited us here and we’ve been nothing but polite.”

“You should leave,” Clark snarls. You take a step back, startled by the rage in his face. 

Nick is up and grabs your shoulder, pulling you behind him. “He’s right, we should leave.” He keeps between you and Clark as you head towards the stairs to get to the elevator. Once inside you see the blood draining from Nick’s nose and get some things from your purse to try to clean him up. As much as he wants to enjoy your caring touch, he has to keep alert. Especially when the “express” elevator stops early. 

The door opens and a small group of burly men gesture for you to step out with them. Nick looks at you and whispers, “remember the plan.” You nod and Nick throws himself at the small posse. 

You hit the “Close Doors” button and stay out of sight until the doors close. You stay in that spot until the doors open at the lobby and you rush out. Your entire system is on high alert but you have to pretend to be calm as you walk through the lobby. You don’t want to draw attention. Silently you thank Nick for making you memorize the path to the hotel as it becomes the mantra for your brain, keeping you from panicking. 

The Cairo Hotel lobby is immaculate and you do feel a little safer just for being there. You approach the front desk and shakily ask to see Jonathan Pine, the Manager. The woman behind the desk gives you a once over but goes to get him. You keep looking to the hotel entrance, hoping to see Nick, afraid to see Clark. You’re certain Nick is strong and capable; Teach said he’s one of their best security people. It’s why he was called in to protect a witness. You’re still very scared for him, though.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a polite cough from behind the desk. A tall, lean man with blondish brown hair and blue eyes is smiling politely, “you asked for me?”

“Y–yes,” you start, “I was told by Nick Fowler to come and ask for you?”

Mr. Pine’s eyes flicker with recognition at the name, “ah, yes. Mr. Fowler speaks highly of you. Please come with me so we can get you taken care of.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As he begins to lead you away you hear your name being shouted from the hotel entrance. You’re not sure if he followed you or if this place just made sense, but it’s clear Clark is very angry with you.

“You owe me an apology and an explanation,” he shouts as he storms towards you. 

Mr. Pine steps in front of you and calmly tells Clark that he needs to leave. “I will not have a disturbance at my hotel, Mr. Kent. I will especially not tolerate any violence or threats of violence against one of my guests.”

“She’s not a guest,” Clark spits. “She can’t afford a place like this! I’ve seen her pay statements! She’d be lucky to be able to afford a half hour here!”

“She is a registered guest at this hotel, Mr. Kent, and I will not let you threaten her.”

“This is bullshit! I’ve done nothing but be kind to her and she’s ruined my reputation!”

“Your quarrel, legitimate or otherwise, has no bearing here, Mr. Kent. She is a guest, she is under my protection.”

“Oh fuck you,” Clark snaps before throwing a punch at Mr. Pine. Mr. Pine easily dodges, grabs Clark’s arm and maneuvers him into a wristlock, causing Clark to let out a bark of pain.

“Miranda,” Mr. Pine addresses the hotel clerk. “Please escort the Lady to the Cleopatra Suite while I call the police.”

Miranda nods and gestures for you to follow her.

+++++++++

You spend the next hour pacing the hotel room you were brought to. It’s a smaller, windowless suite that makes you think it’s specifically set aside for emergencies. There’s a mini-bar but you have no stomach for food or drink. You’re all nerves and keep pacing as much as you can. You wish Nick were here. It wouldn’t be enough for someone to tell you he’s okay, you need to actually see him, feel him, know he’s still alive. 

The past few weeks have been a tumultuous mess and Nick quickly became your safety net, your safe haven, your reliable partner. You’d started craving his reassuring touch, his comforting whispers in your ear. You swear to yourself that if Nick makes it through this you’re gonna tell him about your feelings. About how you want it to be real. Hopefully he’ll let you down gently. 

A tone from your phone gets you to stop pacing. You find a text from Nick, “about to knock on the door.” Sure enough, there’s a knock. You still make sure to check that it’s him through the peephole, just to be safe. You almost start crying when you see him on the other side of the door.

Flinging the door open you pull Nick inside with you, slam the door shut and pull him in for a kiss. Initially thrown off, he softens into the kiss and holds you tight. When you pull away for a breath you whisper, “you’re okay. I’m so glad you’re okay. Didn’t realize how much I needed you to be okay.”

“Yeah, sweet Lady, I’m okay,” he assures. 

When you pull away again you gasp at how beaten up he looks. He quickly tells you he’s had worse, that he’ll be okay in a few days, but you barely hear him. 

“Have you seen a doctor? Nick, you might have a concussion, or broken bones, or something worse!”

“I needed to make sure you were okay first,” he confesses as he kisses you again. “Couldn’t stand the thought of you being caught.” Another kiss. “Needed to hold you again, just to be sure.” You welcome the kisses and return them with a fervor that encourages Nick to keep going. “Couldn’t go to a doctor until I heard your voice again.”

“I felt the same,” you admit between kisses. “I never want to go through that again. I need you, Nick.”

“Need me?” He gently pulls away from you, eyes searching your face. 

“Yes, Nick,” you breathe. “I’ve always felt safe with you, enjoyed your company and the past few weeks have just cemented that. I want you around. I need your touch, your comforting words and presence. Please.”

“I’ll happily be yours,” he affirms. “And if I wasn’t worried about getting blood on your gorgeous body I’d take you here and now.”

You can’t hold back a small moan at the thought of Nick’s expert lips on other parts of your body and he smiles before wincing at the pain it causes in his split lip. That elicits a small chuckle from you, “we really should get you to a hospital, Nick.”

“Will you hold my hand while they patch me up,” he asks, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “I’m not a fan of hospitals and could use the comfort of your touch to help keep me calm.”

“Gladly, Nick.”

He kisses the back of your hand, “thank you, my gracious Lady.”

Part 7 -- Epilogue

Series Masterlist

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[alexander-arnold66]

What about the people whose messages you delete because they show your lack of knowledge? The truth hurts, doesn't it? You're showing that you're not as confident as you portray yourself to be. A little hypocrite :)

Saying someone lacks confidence as you stalk their page and send anonymous messages is more telling of you, I'm afraid. I hardly reply to asks that aren't from mutuals. I think the most anonymous asks ive answered r ones were I was wondering the reason behind supporting multiple teams in one league. It shouldn't be a surprise when I don't reply to yours. My posts aren't discussions. They're me being pissy because, yes, I do let emotions take control. A player I adore might leave for a club I despise - of course I'm gonna be pissy??? That's like... my whole thing... I've never pretended to be anything else 😂

This ain't some news page, it's just some autistic lad who's only focus is lfc because I don't have much interest in any other teams beside lfc n tranmere rovers n the few odd players here and there that I like.

Also, I'd love to know how any of my posts warrant death threats and other threats of things that you shouldn't be wishing upon another person. It is never that deep.

[spotsupstuff]

actually ey fuck it. list of personal headcanons for the main six iterators some of which i might illustrate properly at some point:

Moon: • one of the first 10 iterators ever built. she is grandma as HELL and totally forgot she is that old • Pebbles sometimes asks her to tell him about the older times, because history nerd. he writes everything she says onto a pearl • in the post i've made talkin bout her and pebs' voice, saying that she sounded like Miku, somebody said that they like to think the ancients made Moon a vocaloid. to that i absolutely agree: she has NO fucking clue what do when it comes to putting a certain emotion into a song but god DAMMIT shes so good at singing • she can add effects to her voice, including a glitch effect. she likes that one the least • -HITS DESK- THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HATSUNE MOON. • she doesn't particularly like to sing, especially not to herself. but she does know that pebbles likes music- the first week after the mass ascension was rough and he was working mostly on autopilot, not answering DMs or anything. she called him up and told him they could sing together, if he wants to. he felt much better afterwards • MOON'S SECRET RAP CAREER • i'll put it here too so it's all in one place: her AI isn't developed enough to understand the emotional quality of any form of art • Moon was upgraded a few times in her function. most of the time it was because her citizens loved her too much to let her go too out of date (specifically in the physical sense. they made sure she wouldn't fall too easily) • one of the first memories she designated as a "core memory" was her first upgrade that was a result of her citizens' riot against the Houses- to keep her safe. she noted it down as "Kindness is effortlessly repaid" • she remembers when iterator comms were connected by a cable rather than radio waves • she also remembers when two of the first 10 collapsed and went into coma, with their citizens of course perishing in the fall and crash. she's still terrified of those days and doesn't like recalling them even for Pebbles • Nish was her first little sib and she feels like she can talk with him about anything. she hates it, but she's distant with Suns- they are always so damn polite and skittish around her... and she absolutely adores the other three. her tiny little wonderful siblings • she didn't like to admit that maybe her hardwave wasn't keeping up with her citizens anymore. at that point she did start to emotionally care less for them, but she still didn't want to admit she wasn't able to provide and protect those she was responsible for • i can't get the image of her being the one to actually ensure the family is gonna financially survive in a more chill au where the iterators r just sorta kinda people. Miss Moon From Accounting... • her overseers were originally blue. she swapped colors with Pebbles all on her own accord. having yellow overseers, seeing them, made her feel even more connected to Pebs • this is basically canon but she fuckin Loves animals. she's the iterator version of Steve Irwin. she also don't kno jack shit about the vegetation • city's representative instrument Evolved- first it was a harp, then it went to a nyckelharpa and then to a violin

Nish: • he is built over marshes to the south-west from Moon and she helped with his blueprints! the Gen 1s had their blueprints checked over by the already built iterators to make sure something wouldn't go wrong. she was so so excited to have a neighbour • the scarf is from his main programmer. the Ancient wrapped it around his puppet's neck before he was even turned online so for the longest time he had no idea that the thing wasn't originally in his design. Moon had to tell him • he became a jokester Entirely because the first time he made Moon laugh he absolutely fell in love with it. he told her and she recommended him looking into jokes. baby boy had no idea what the fuck a joke was so Moon had to explain • when the middle gen started being created, the Ancients noticed that these new iterators didn't have... much of emotional skills. so they turned to the older gens to look for the most emotional and empathetic ones. Nish scored Really High on that survey- his empathy and emotion modules were studied and each time they found something new and better, they upgraded him in that one aspect. so now Sig is one of the biggest crybabies ever. you show him a sad movie and this supercomputer will be lyin on the ground wailing like a newborn. oh and also he makes for a great therapist because he can now just Get It • as the most emotionally... mature? capable? he decided he will be the one to keep a real close eye on everyone in the Local Group after the mass ascension • thanks to all that emotion business he gets along with Suns swimmingly. when Suns needs assistence with figuring out their own emotions or what would be appropriate and not too cold towards someone, they go to him • if he could he'd give everyone younger than him a noogie and you cannot convince me otherwise • the Hunter was a sickly pup that was left behind on his roof by a family that came to him which he directed towards the void sea. they were far too weak for the family to keep them, basically on the death's door. Nish took them in, operated on them, enhanced genes and raised them from there • Is half a medical facility. mister veterinarian, baybeee • since he's a sap, he started to view the Hunter like his own kid at some point. he was also the one who pitched to Suns the idea of sending Spearmaster over to him for visits. Spear tried its best to help raise and train Hunter • the whole rot thing happened because Nish did a stupid and forgot that neurons are quite the fuckin reactive things and continual exposure to what is essentially extra macho giga neuron Can and Will fuck up cells. his and Moon's cans have a long distance between them. it was enough time for Hunter to develop the big owie cancer. he noticed it only when they were too far away and it was already too bad • he felt absolutely Terrible about it. again he loses someone so so very close to him. but this time around? there is no one to be angry at for this but himself • Hunter manages to ascend. Nish watched them leave, silently, in subterranean • he used to do his best to play with his citizens. when a kid came to his chamber, he gave them rides on his puppet's shoulders or the umbilical arm. same went for Hunter • his city is called Risio • city's representative instrument was EITHER a PVC instrument or suona i can't decide for the life of me

Suns: • they were built much further away from the planet's equator than most of the Local Group, meaning they experience polar days and nights • the "Seven" in their name refers to the amount of months the unusually timed sunsets and sunrises last for. for seven whole months, the locality gets only about four hours of Somewhat darkness • in return, they have three full months of relatively strong darkness. their city used to shine bright, during this time. post mass ascension those months are terribly lonely and depressing • because of the warmth they produce, there's an oasis for wildlife underneath them • the warmth was also sung about a lot by their citizens. they've seen it as an incredible blessing- Suns used to run hotter than other iterators just for them. nowadays they are mostly normal though • the outside of their can is tinted blue- frostbitten. that much warmer their yellow, orange and red city feels • their and Moon's personalities clash so hard that they sometimes go out of their way to avoid her. they do appreciate her but talking with her is exhausting. she's a stranger to them, almost • the iterators can project/send their emotions through messages/broadcasts. Suns' messages always sound flat, unless they use the ~ • one of their biggest dreams is to sit with Pebbles leaning against their side, all the while listening to old music of their cities • once Spearmaster returns, the walls of their puppet chamber become completely covered in doodles and masterpieces • they end up standing the longest out of the whole Local Group. bright and warm even after everyone else dies • their city is called Solis • city's representative instrument was an armonica (look that shit up its sick)

Wind: • Wind's can stands in this giant plain. there's like nothing as far as the eye can see and even further Except her. she just stands there like fucking Slanderman XXL version • the plains are absolutely prime location for a spawning grounds of tornadoes and shit like that. the wind is Constantly strong so most of the rain clouds they exhale are immediately blown away • instead of rain they deal with ginormous tornadoes at the end of each cycle. while their superstructure can take it, the comms can't. so Wind is often absent from iterator chats as a result. after the mass ascension these connection knock-outs become a great source of stress and worry for the others cuz they never know if Wind will come back or not this time • because of these comm blackouts, Innocence took it upon herself to catch Wind up on everything they've missed when they come back online. Innocence started doing this all by herself out of seemingly nowhere. she just cares. silently. • the strangest thing about her is that her city is half built within her structure instead of on top of her. the winds can get sometimes so bad that they manage to affect even the top of her can. so the solution was to put half of the city under her skin as a sort of giant bunker • the ancients, not being ones to waste much space, made sure the city can still be used by Wind's processes, in a way. their neurons fly through the streets, completely unbothered, working as makeshift streetlights. the kids used to love chasing after them- never catching any though • sometimes when the wind storms outside got real bad, the kids that were scared of them were sent to Wind's puppet chamber. she used to tell them all kinds of stories or about what she was currently working on • it was often that their puppet chamber would be full of pillows, blankets and sleeping children. they loved their citizens so so much • nicknamed themself "Chasing" Wind in chats because, just like Moon, they are also quite the dreamer • closest with Moon, too. Wind looks up to Moon Immensely. they really wanna be like her one day • Wind is what some people think of Moon- a too kind pushover that doesn't know how to get angry and defend herself. Wind is the kindest, most sensitive and softest person they have in The Local Group. Nish takes care to keep his jabs and jokes about Wind very mild • has a really beautiful voice • likes flowers :) • her city is called Procella • city's representative instrument was a fujara cuz god DAMMIT i love that instrument i Have to slap it on Someone in here. it fits their vibe in my heart either way

Innocence: • she really wishes her surrounding circumstances were in some kind of way special but actually she's built at the least unique place with basically nothing neat happening nearby. there are strange giant cherry trees nearby, but that's about it • fuckin LOVES lizards. she's the one who made the Cyans and sent some over to Pebbles to fuck him up. thankfully, as we all know, Cyans are kinda stupid and since they launch themselves over edges of cliffs they haven't managed to destroy the local ecosystem • her citizens used to keep lizards as pets. most of the time just for the joy of having 0 braincells creature follow you around but some had 'em as sort of hunting dogs • was the one who created The Rivulet. she was mumbling to herself and a friend smth about how boys only screw things up while engineering Riv's genome • she BASICALLY packed Riv into a cannon and shot them over right into the middle of a scav toll cuz "come on, it's not that far away. this will make your journey shorter and shit". i don't care how goofy it sounds, this is how it went in my heart • in possession of probably the most durable comms ever made • claims she's purple! she's actually fake out purple which means homegirl is Deceptive Blue. she CONSTANTLY fights over this with Pebbles • despite their squabbles she did care for Pebbles. she was very excited to not be the youngest anymore and getting to baby someone • her and Nish always start verbal sparring matches, often consisting of threats that more often than not range on impossible to actually commit. they constantly lead their mock wars in #general. Moon's gonna kill 'em one of these days • trusts Moon the most- which is why she outed Pebbles' rot and sent Rivulet with the instructions to extract the rarefaction cell • her city is called Sermo • city's representative instrument was a shamisen. she absolutely knows how to play it and loves to threaten people with the bachi

Pebbles: • the only people he enjoyed doing group projects with were Suns and Wind. he Could do group projects with Moon and Nish but Only if he could race them. rascal found it fun to challenge the nokias 😔 • now with Innocence though? Never. if they were forced to, they could do a great job with minimal communication but they were not going to be happy about it • latched onto Suns exactly because Moon was overbearingly protective and Suns always seems like they couldn't give less of a shit about anyone. sometimes they'd have a videochat open and not say anything for hours as they worked • with Nish he used to like inventing new things. a lot of times the things turned out to be silly or kind of useless which would normally frustrate him, but surprisingly enough Nish made the time spent worth it • Wind's favorite activity was comparing notes with him and then talking about the differences in their research. they'd hum to him happily while the both of them would be sorting through their stuff • i sometimes imagine him having a slight chinese accent and i blame Steven He for this so hard • second most emotional fuck in the group. his emotions mostly rotate around anger, though • he won't admit this to anyone but he really liked it when his and Moon's cans were connected by bridges. it felt like holding hands. he felt more stable. now all he can do is just miss it quietly • was legit surprised when he found out not every iterator has a build in older sister right at their side • his city is called Literally just Metropolis cuz the ancients didn't bother with properly naming it. depeshioumn. • city's representative instrument was adopted straight from Moon since Pebs' citizens were honestly just hers, so- violin it is • Pebbles HAS attempted to learn how to play a violin himself. certainly was a test of patience and puppet dexterity/camera-to-digits control. almost broke the poor thing a few times from nerves

either way, Wind, at the end of each fucking cycle from day 1 of their life:

[serasarahhhh]

Author: Maxine Pairings: BakuDeku Rating: R Chapters: 14/? Notes: Accidental quirk shenanigans result in an unplanned pregnancy. Post-canon, no a/b/o dynamics. Summary: It's not that Katsuki didn't want kids. He figured he'd have them one day, probably. That he and Izuku would adopt or maybe figure something else out. This is NOT how it was supposed to go. ~~~~~ CHAPTER 14 “OI!” Katsuki barks at the rest of the room, even though most of its occupants are already staring at him with arched eyebrows. He swallows as everyone else turns their attention toward him, trying not to fidget in place or do anything that would make him fall. He’s not exactly at his usual level of coordination these days. “Real quick. Uh. I know I was kind of a last-minute addition to the staff roster and maybe some of you are wondering what the hell I’m doing here.” “Recovering from a thing!” Present Mic shouts, and then gives him a double thumbs up when Katsuki scowls. At his side, Vlad King starts snickering. “No – goddammit.” Katsuki huffs. “Look, I’ve been off field work for a few weeks and was getting sick of hanging around my agency not doing shit.” He tips his head in Tsuyu’s direction. “Froppy here was nice enough to suggest letting me double up with her and somehow we got Principal Nezu onboard. Probably just taking pity on me, but whatever. I’m gonna be even more of a pain for you people to deal with than I was in school because…” Katsuki cuts both hands in toward his stomach, more or less framing the bulging curve there. “I’m pregnant. Got hit with a Quirk. Shit happened. It’s Deku’s.” He puffs out a breath and jerks forward into a slight bow. “Thanks in advance for putting up with me, I guess.” “Young Bakugou, please get down,” All Might hisses out in an overly frantic tone, and this time Katsuki does as told. He even accepts the hand the older man holds out to assist him. “See, now that explains it,” a gruff voice says. Katsuki looks up to find Hound Dog stroking the bottom of his muzzle in a thoughtful sort of way. Most of the rest of the room seems completely unphased – likely a byproduct of having years under their belts as both pro heroes and teachers who’ve mentored hundreds of students with all manner of Quirks. They’ve all seen some shit, Katsuki realizes, and the bit of tension that had locked up his shoulders abruptly drains away. This probably isn’t even close to the weirdest thing any of them have dealt with. “Explains what?” Katsuki asks, somewhat warily. Hound Dog shrugs. “Your smell.” “…What?” “You smell pregnant. It was throwing me off.” “WHAT?!” “Maaaan, you’ve gotta share things like that!” Present Mic yells over at Houng Dog. “Spill the tea, share the juice, give me the gossip! How many times do I gotta tell you?!” “Way too early,” Aizawa grumbles again. He pulls open a drawer of a nearby desk and whips out a yellow sleeping bag that’s seen far better days. “Somebody wake me up when the opening ceremony starts.” “Shouta, did you know?” Present Mic demands, spinning toward him before Aizawa can fully disappear beneath the desk. “Shouta! HEY. Did you know??” “Oh man, I’m so glad I signed on this year,” Tokage utters in awe. She looks a little too gleeful, honestly. “This is great.” Tsuyu nods in agreement. “I wonder if it’s always this eventful.” “What the fuck does he mean, I smell pregnant,” Katsuki asks, scandalized. “Is that a fucking thing? Do I stink??” “It’s just his Quirk, Bakugou.” Tsuyu gives him a reassuring pat on the arm. “He probably picked up on the hormonal changes. Don’t worry about it. Want to go over the plans for our first classes?” Alright, well that’s gross and terrible to know. Continue reading at AO3. Through chapter 14 now posted!

[wereprinxe]

Short fic based on the introduction video with Lasko and my personality swap AU! I didn't write nor draw for two weeks, so this is awkward BDBBDDB but yeah! ENJOY!

CW: Personality swap AU (Lasko has Damien's, Damien has Gavin's)

„O-out. Now.“

„Aw, come on! Don’t tell me you’re blu– ahah! Ow! Okay, okay, I’m out!“ the muffled laugh makes its way out when the door opens for your gaze to meet theirs. A cheeky smile dances around you to let you in. He leans in and says: „Be careful. Our dear counselor has a bit ruffled feathers if you catch my drift.“

„W-will you g-go already?“ warns the angry voice the flirt. With a shrug and a wink, he leaves.

„He is all yours, cutie.“

Whoever they were, they confused you. With a hum, you entered the office. A person with a ponytail and glasses sat at the desk, mumbling and scratching down on their paper. Their irritated frown and a louder slam on the desk, than he anticipated, made eye contact with you.

„Let’s get this over with,“ they sighs, massaging their temples. „Official introduction. Hello, my name is Lasko Moore. Welcome to the Dahlia's Academy for Magical Novicesa and the next four years to six years, I will be your guidance counselor. My job is to make your experience at D.A.M.N., ignore the acronyms, to make it as best as possible, especially your safety, enjoyment, health, et cetera.“ They were a fast talker, keeping their posture right at all times, maybe over-professional for their job. „Judging by your look, you must be a new student, right? Well, let me get your profile quickly and add key information.“

Today must not be their day, cause they already started quietly swearing, his password not being correct the first time, slow process, tense atmosphere what happened and… are those papers burnt?

„Alright. Name. Occupation. Official magic title.“ He was really intense. You answered all of his questions. Some of them might not be true, but he doesn’t need to really know, how your parents reacted to you having powers, right?

Instead, you asked him, if he was okay.

Lasko lifted his eyebrows and looked at you, as if you’ve lost your mind. He gets quiet, his shoulder stiff. „I’m alright. Very. Yes. Very alright, why do you ask?“

And you didn’t buy it.

He sighed, „O-okay, look. I-I-I need some c-coffee. Pre-Preferably, right now? R-right now. Oh god.“ What happened to his voice, you wondered. „I-I learned it, basically. I-it took me so f-f-fucking… freaking long too. And g-god, Damien can piss me off so much, holy shit.“

That must’ve been the person before you.

„H-he does everything to fluster me a-a-and he knows that I-I don’t like it, e-especially at work! L-like people can’t s-see me like that! I-I have to keep it cool all the time! And my patience… my patience is running k-kinda thin, because now h-he started b-b-burning my papers on fire! I-I know it was a-an accident, but it made me panic and I-I tried to save them and god now i-it smells here like a burnt toast. And I’m rambling to a student about another student. Fuck. I-I mean shit. I-I mean… god!“ Lasko sighed, his head now in his hands, taking a deep breath. „D-don't tell him all of this… please…“

Seeing how much he needs the coffee, you agreed.

This is gonna be a fun first year.