#it doesn't even take all that much effort

[madebycloud]

pt 1 | Not Even at All

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi is off limits until her sister gets a date that doesn't end within the first ten minutes. eager to date vi, a certain girl approaches you with a proposal. date jinx. win her over. and for your efforts, she's willing to be generous. (10 Things I Hate About You AU) warnings/themes: fluff, kinda enemies to what, one sided fake dating, highschool, modern au, smoking (reader), kat!jinx, patrick!reader words: 5.8k notes: because of the age difference, caitlyn is in college that's why she's always on calls.. — ✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

You pick up at the third ring, hearing a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, good, you picked up.”

It's Caitlyn.

You put the phone down for a few seconds to eat your sandwich, before picking the phone back up. “What now?” you ask through a mouthful of sandwich. “I just woke up, y'know.”

The line is silent for a minute.

Then, you hear Caitlyn clear her throat. “Are you busy right now?”

It's 9am on Sunday, of course you're not busy. “Kinda busy eating my breakfast,” you reply, taking another bite. “Why?”

You hear some shuffling on the other end, some muttering, and another pause before Caitlyn speaks again. “I have… a proposition.”

A proposition already, and so early in the morning? you put your sandwich down, sitting up and making sure you heard that right. “I'm listening.”

Caitlyn clears her throat again, and there's sounds of footsteps and whispers in the background, as if she's moving somewhere more secluded. “…Do you know Jinx?”

It's a strange question. Pretty much everyone knows Jinx. “Yeah,” you reply. “Why?”

The shuffling resumes, a few footsteps, and the murmur of voices. “I'll cut to the chase. I'm asking for your help. I need you to do me a favor.”

You pause, raising an eyebrow. What does she want? “Depends on what it is.” You shrug. “And what I'd get in return.” You take a sip from your glass.

The murmuring on Caitlyn's end of the line stops, and you hear the sound of a door clicking shut. “I want you to take Jinx on a date.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “You want me to what?” you manage to ask between coughs.

“It'll be a fake date!” she says quickly. “If you can make this date go smoothly and… make her like you, even a little bit, I'll pay you a hundred dollars.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “100 dollars?!” You cough again. “You can't just throw me under the bus like that. You've lost your damn mind.”

“Please just hear me out,” Caitlyn pleads. “It's not like you have to ask her to marry you. Just think of it as a challenge. You get 100 dollars if you can get her to enjoy a date with you. Come on, you're good with girls, aren't you?”

What does she think you are, some suave James Bond-esque ladykilling playgirl? while you’ve kissed a couple girls, you can't call yourself super suave. 

“Caitlyn, Jinx hates me.” It's common knowledge. Jinx hates nearly everyone, especially people she was in class with. “She's gonna kill me if I ask her out on a date.” You shudder.

“That's why I chose you for this,” she says. “I figured you were the type to face any challenge head-on.”

“This isn't just a 'challenge', it's a mission for the suicidal,” you retort. “You're setting me up to embarrass myself and get ridiculed in the process.”

You hear her scoff. “So you can flirt and tease the whole damn school, but a date with Jinx is the line you draw, is that it?”

You scowl at her comment. You’ve been known to flirt and joke around with a few people at school, but that’s all it is—meaningless flirting with no strings attached. This is completely different—this is Jinx we’re talking about. “You're comparing apples and oranges here,” you protest. “They're not the same, Cait.”

“Maybe,” she replies. “But I've seen how you've charmed your way out of trouble. You're good at talking your way out of things. And that's exactly what I need right now.”

That's true, but that’s with a teacher, or a TA, or a store manager who’s trying to bust you for shoplifting. Not with Jinx, of all people.

“Caitlyn, c'mon. She's either gonna punch me in the face, or call me a dumbass, or both.”

“Just listen,” she cuts in. “All you have to do is go on a fake date with her. You don’t have to actually like her.”

“No, no, no.” You shake your head, gripping the phone in your hand. “No way, no how.”

“150 dollars.”

“You really, really want me to go on a fake date with Jinx?” you murmur. “Are you that desperate?”

“I'm very desperate.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Why are you so fixated on me doing this?”

You hear movement on the other line, like Caitlyn's pacing back and forth. “Okay, look,” she begins. “I… really like her sister. Like really like her. Like���”

This wasn't just a fake date. It was a way to get closer to who she liked. “Oh. Ohh.”

“Yeah...”

Wow. This was a lot more desperate than you initially thought.

“But why don't you just ask her sister out?” you ask.

“I did.” She sighs again. “I asked Vi out last week, and she said she can't go on a date with me until her sister finds someone. Jinx has to be happy before Vi can go on dates, according to her.”

What the hell kind of ridiculous rule is that? “So let me get this straight,” you start. “You want me to go on a fake date with Jinx.”

“Yes.”

“Until she becomes my... girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“And then you can date Vi.”

“Yes.”

It sounds crazy, ridiculous, batshit insane. “Holy shit, Caitlyn.” You run your fingers over your eyes, shaking your head to yourself. “All of this just so you can get laid?”

A huff comes from the other end of the line. “Are we making a deal or not?”

“Hey, wait a minute—I'm gonna need the money first,” you say, drumming your fingers against the table.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” you explain. “You know, the whole dating thing. Dates, food, gas, that kinda stuff. You can't expect me to pay for all of that with my own money.”

Caitlyn doesn't respond immediately. You can hear some shuffling, and you can imagine her biting her lower lip anxiously, maybe staring out the wall.

“There's a high probability I won't even get a Harley after all this,” you add. 

Silence.

“So I'm gonna need the money...”

There’s a pause, then an annoyed hiss. “Don't you trust me?”

“Oh hell no. Give me the money first and then I'll consider the deal.”

She sighs. “Fine. Whatever, I'll give you the money.”

“All of it?”

“…Yes. All of it. All 150. For your shitty, awful fake date.” She huffs. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

—

You step into the office, finding Caitlyn’s mother already hunched over her laptop, staring over the rim of her glasses. You hated coming into this office. It always felt like you were in the principal’s office.

“I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual,” Mrs. Kiramman says, staring at you over her laptop. 

“Only so we can have these moments together,” you reply, your mouth already curving into a grin. “Should I, uh, get the lights?”

Mrs. Kiramman sighs, her eyes scanning over the paper in front of her. “Exposed yourself... in the cafeteria,” she mutters. “I seriously don't understand why my daughter associates herself with you.”

“It was for a good reason, I swear.”

“Oh, really?” She raises her eyebrow. “And what reason is that?”

“I was joking with the lunch lady,” you explain, spreading your hands out. “She was being snippy with me, so I started unbuttoning my shirt, it's not like I was actually going to flash anyone.”

Mrs. Kiramman takes off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose, her other hand coming to rest on her forehead.

“But I suppose if we've already looked through all my wrongdoings, you can release me back into the wild, eh?” you continue.

“Just... make it more than a week before coming back here, alright? I don't want to see you in my office every week—you're a walking headache.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. K.”

“And stop calling me Mrs. K.”

—

Jinx kicks the ball here and there, back and forth, side to side. She's taking all of her frustrations out on this ball, dribbling it down the field, passing it to her teammates, dodging opponents.

Her moment of peace is interrupted when a player tries to intercept her pass. She grins, dribbling out of the way and kicking the ball hard into the player's face. 

The coach blows the whistle. “Great practice, everybody!”

Practice over. Jinx tosses the ball aside. She rubs her eyes with the heel of her hands, a headache thudding against her skull. She bends forward to grab her water bottle from the edge of the field, taking generous swigs from the bottle.

Jinx is the captain of her high school's soccer team. She's good—really good. She has quick feet and a mean kick, and she's scored a lot of points for the team. In games, however… Jinx is aggressive. She kicks hard. She kicks fast. She kicks a lot. She does not pull her punches when it comes to her opponents.

She's halfway done guzzling water when a voice interrupts her.

“Hey there, girlie.”

Jinx pauses, swallowing the last of the water in her bottle. She glances up at you, watching you approach her as you shove your hands into your pockets.

“How ya doin'?” 

“Sweating like a pig actually,” she replies, pulling out a small towel and wiping her face. “And yourself?”

You hum, rocking back and forth on your feet. “I’m good. Just thought I'd come and chat with our wonderful captain.”

Jinx grumbles as she slings the towel over her shoulder.

“That was quite a performance out there,” you continue, raising a hand to give her a slow clap. “You were brutal today. Worse than usual, not-gonna-lie.”

Gathering her stuff, Jinx zips up her bag, slings it across one shoulder, then strides past you.

“Hey,” you say, quickly catching up to her. “Where are you going?”

“Where do you think, genius? I'm leaving.”

You huff, following her as she marches out of the soccer field. “Pick you up on Friday, then.”

Jinx makes a face at that. “Oh, right, Friday,” she mimics. “Uh-huh.”

You cock a smirk. “Well, the night I take you places you've never been before.”

“Like where? The 7-Eleven on Broadway?”

“Ha, very funny.” You shake your head. “And actually, no, smartass.”

“Do you even know me?” she asks, not slowing her pace.

You hurry to keep up and shrug. “Yeah, we have the same class on science.”

She stops in her tracks and turns to look at you, eyes flitting up and down, up and down. Once, twice, three times. “You're the one that never shows up in Mr. Viktor's class?”

“Hey, to be fair,” you say, putting your hands up. “That's an 8 a.m. class. No one shows up for an 8 a.m. class at ass o'clock in the morning.”

Her expression remains unamused as she shifts her bag's backpack strap further off her shoulder. “Except you're the only one who never shows up. You have the same attendance rate as Mr. Blitzcrank,” she tells you, turning back around to start walking. “Which is absolutely none.”

“What can I say?” You chuckle, jogging to catch up to her again. “I'm very talented. Gifted, even.”

She mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “Talented at being an idiot, more like.”

“Hey, I heard that.”

“Good,” she says over her shoulder. “Maybe don’t try to impress me with your shitty grades and your non-existent attendance record next time, then.” Without a second glance, she continues walking, leaving you behind.

“Ouch!” you exclaim. “Rude, by the way!” you shout at her, and you see a flash of a smile over her features.

—

Jinx stands at her locker, gathering her books—a variety of books with names like Introduction to Rocketry, Engineering and Architecture, Chemistry Vol. 3: Chemical Reactions, Organic and Inorganic Compounds and Mixtures, and a few other engineering books, all with worn spines and yellow pages.

“Hey,” you greet.

She doesn't even glance at you as she continues sorting through her books, shoving what she doesn't need aside with a flick of her wrist.

“You hate me, don't you?” you ask, leaning against the locker beside her.

She gives you a side glance but doesn't fully look away from her locker. “What are you, five?” she asks. “I don't really care enough about you to hate you.”

“Rude.”

“It's the truth. As far as I'm concerned, you're better than a mosquito,” she says, continuing with sorting through her locker. “Annoying, but not something worth paying attention to.”

“Mosquito, really?”

She slams her locker shut and locks it. She turns to look at you, adjusting her backpack straps on her shoulders—a backpack that is covered in various patches and colorful pins. “What exactly do you want?”

“Spend Dollar Night at the track with me.”

She arches one eyebrow. “And why the hell would I do that?”

“Come on, the ponies, the flat beer... you with money in your eyes, me with my hand on your ass…”

“You covered in my vomit,” she cuts you off. “That's what's going to happen. If I go within ten feet of whatever greasy-ass food joint and cheap liquor you're going to take me to.”

“Damn, you're feisty. I kinda like that.”

She scowls at your words. “And you're annoying. I kinda despise that.”

“Ouch,” you mock. “And you're a bit more than feisty. You're like... feisty on steroids. Are you always like this?”

Her scowl deepens, and in one second, she suddenly has one of your arms twisted behind your back and pinned to your torso.

She leans forward, her face so close to yours. “Maybe, if you stopped annoying me,” she whispers. “I'd stop acting like this.”

You flinch, letting out a low hiss. “Ow, ow-” You try to pull away from her grip, but she only tightens it. “Ow, okay, I get it—let go, let go!” 

She holds you still for a moment longer before roughly releasing her grip. You stagger forward, rubbing the spot where her hand had been. “What-” you gasp “-the hell was that for?”

“Consider it a learning experience, dipshit,”  she snaps, before stalking off, her long blue braid swinging behind her.

“You can't just-” you start to call after her, but she's already halfway down the hall. You huff rubbing your sore arm. 

Yep. Jinx is as prickly as a cactus. This is gonna be harder than you thought.

—

“She's a freaking Ronda Rousey,” you mutter into the phone, massaging your throbbing arm. “She damn near twisted my arm off!”

“Jinx? Did she hurt you?”

“Just my dignity.”

You hear Cait chuckle faintly. “I'll take that to mean it didn't go very well?”

“You could say that,” you grumble. “She's difficult.” You watch your clothes spin around in the washing machine. “I think this may take longer than you think, Cait. Waaay longer.”

“I can't just flirt my way through this,” you go on, moving to grab one of the nearby magazines to distract yourself. “She's smart, witty, and sassy—the whole package. Very pretty, too. But she's rude.” You shift your phone to fit between your shoulder and ear.

“Rude,” you stress again, flipping to a magazine page with random trivia questions on it. “Who the hell is rude these days? It's all sugarcoating, bullshit, and fake smiles.” You glance idly at the question titled 'How Compatible Are You with Your Ideal Partner?'. You scoff, turning the page. “She's downright ruthless.”

“Have you even tried asking her out?”

“Hell yes I have. I even tried asking her to go to Dollar Night at the track.”

“You tried asking her to go to the race track?”

“You don't think she's a fan of ponies and alcohol?” you reply, grinning.

“I think she's a fan of punching you in the face.”

“Yeah, she did not like that idea.”

There's a pause on the line.

“Okay, I'll admit that wasn't the smoothest plan.”

“Or smartest,” Cait interjects. “Anyway, are you reading a magazine right now?”

“I'm at the laundromat.”

“And you're reading a magazine.”

“To pass the time,” you justify.

“Mhm.”

“I'm boooored.” You set the magazine down on a nearby chair, turning back to watch your clothes spin around. “And I'm tired of watching my clothes spin around. It's boring. I haven't had a good date in ages.” You move to rest your head against the glass. “I need something interesting. Someone interesting.”

Your eyes move across the storefronts and streets outside of the laundromat.

Wait… It can't be...

But, yes.

Yes it is. It's Jinx's car.

Your gaze focuses on the shiny blue vehicle before shifting to Jinx, who gets out of the car and walks over to a nearby music store just down the road.

You hear Caitlyn's muffled voice. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Yeah, Cait, I heard you,” you lie, taking your eyes off her car to turn your attention back to the washing machine and your phone. “Uh, I'll call you back. I think I just saw Jinx.”

—

Jinx pushes the entrance door open, juggling a small bag of CDs in one hand and rifling through her purse in the other. Her lips form a small 'o' when she finally pulls her keys out...

...and looks up to see you sitting on the hood of her car. She groans to herself.

“Nice ride. Vintage fenders.” You turn around to face her, leaning back against the hood.

Jinx stops a few feet away from you, shifting the bag of CDs to the other hand. “Are you following me?”

“Nah,” you shrug. “I was at the laundromat,” you pause, gesturing to the building in front of the store she just walked out of. “Saw your car. Thought I'd say hi.”

“Hi,” she grumbles.

Jinx walks over to her car, but you quickly stand ahead of her, placing yourself between her and her vehicle. “You're not afraid of me, are you?”

“Why would I be afraid of you?” she retorts, her nose wrinkling.

“Some people are,” you reply. 

“I'm not.” “Maybe you're not afraid of me… but I bet you've thought about me naked.” You smirk, taking the time to wink at her.

“Am I that transparent?” she mutters. “I want you... I need you... Oh, baby, oh baby.” Jinx rolls her eyes dramatically as she tries to step around you, but you shift your body to block her path again.

“Now, don't ignore me,” you tease.

“Let me pass, I have places to be,” Jinx says irritably, trying to step around you for the third time, only for you to once again move and block her.

“Come on now,” you urge. “Just a few minutes of your time.”

“You're being a pest,” she complains. “What do you want?”

“Just a little bit of your time, that's all,” you answer, holding your hands up in surrender before resting them back on the car. “C'mon. You don't have anything better to do anyway, right?”

“Piss off,” Jinx snaps, reaching out and grabbing the handle. The door swings open, throwing you off balance and causing you to topple forward.

Jinx throws the bag into the passenger seat, slams the door shut, and starts the car. She doesn't hesitate to throw the car in reverse, and you have to lunge out of the way to avoid being hit.

RUDE! You scowl in Jinx's direction, watching her drive away. With a sigh, you reach into your pocket and grab your phone, heading back into the laundromat. You begin to dial Caitlyn's number.

The phone only rings once before it's picked up immediately. “Well? what happened?” she starts without any sort of introduction.

“I just upped my price,” you declare.

“What?”

“200 dollars a date.” You stand your ground. “In advance.”

“And why are you increasing the price?”

You sigh heavily, rubbing your forehead. “I told you she's difficult,” you remind her. “She's prickly, short-tempered, and violent,” you explain. “I'm increasing my price because I'm taking a hell of a lot more risk dealing with her.”

“Forget it.”

“Forget her sister, then.”

Silence falls for a heartbeat. Then, reluctantly, she grunts. “Fine. 200 dollars a date. But I want results.”

“No promises,” you warn her. “And first things first, we need to find some way to make Jinx actually want to go on a date with me. How well do you know her?”

Caitlyn hums. “She's Vi's sister, so we have some, ah…” She searches for the correct word. “History,” she finishes awkwardly. “But I'm not an expert on Jinx's inner workings, if that's what you're asking.”

“Great.” That really wasn't the answer you were hoping for. How was it that Caitlyn was apparently able to make this plan without knowing anything about Jinx? “Do you think Vi would have anything?”

“...Maybe,” she responds slowly. “I could probably ask Vi.” She pauses. “Actually,” Caitlyn continues. “I might know someone who... might know Jinx pretty well.”

“Who?”

“Ever heard of a kid named Ekko?”

—

He glances over his shoulder at you, a paintbrush in hand. “What do you want?”

After a bit of searching, you're able to find Ekko at his usual spot—painting the empty space on the school wall. Some of your friends mentioned that he usually hung out here during free periods.

“I want to know about your friend... Jinx.”

Ekko rolls his eyes, resuming his painting. “Yeah, sure, stranger I don’t even know.”

You huff in annoyance. “Alright, listen,” you begin. “I'm not here to cause trouble, or gossip, or any of that. I…” you pause, shifting uncomfortably. “I'm trying to ask Jinx out on a date,” you explain. “So I thought you might be able to help me.”

That makes Ekko pause. He blinks slowly, slowly glancing back over his shoulder at you. “…You’re shitting me, right?”

“I'm not,” you insist. “I'm being serious, alright? and I'm not getting into some of the details, but I…” you pause awkwardly. “I kind of need this date to happen.”

“You need this date?” Ekko echoes, staring at you. “The hell does that mean?”

“I mean,” you reply, avoiding direct eye contact. “I just need it to happen, and for reasons I'm not going to disclose,” you add. “I need it to go really well. You get me?”

Ekko scoffs but nods his head. “Sounds like you're desperate or something.” He sets his brush down, turning around to face you. “Why Jinx, anyway?”

“I…” you start, not really sure how to explain this to Ekko without spilling every detail. “Let's just say my reasons are my own.”

“Hm.” He studies you up and down. “First off, who the hell even are you? how do I know you're not some creep trying to take advantage of Jinx?”

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but then close it and sigh. “Okay, you have a point,” you admit. “But listen,” you soothe. “I'm not a creep. I'm a senior student, like you and Jinx. I want to ask Jinx on a date, and no one really knows her all that well, so I thought you could help me because she's your friend-”

Ekko shakes his head, picking up the brush once again. “Nah we're not that close anymore.” He gives you a sidelong glance. “Jinx and I used to be close friends a few years ago,” he explains, returning his attention to the painting. “But things between us… got complicated.”

Juicy. But that’s none of your business, and definitely not Ekko’s place to share. So you move on, clearing your throat. “Right. Um… Okay, so back to Jinx,” you begin. “You still know her better than most, right? you must have some good insight on her.”

“I don't know,” he replies slowly. “Yeah, I know a bunch of things about Jinx. But… honestly, there's just as much that I don’t know.” He starts painting again. “She changes her mind like… every five seconds. She's unpredictable. Reckless. Wild. Dangerous.”

“I'm not here to psychoanalyze Jinx,” you clarify. “I just need to know… how the hell to even talk to her one-on-one, without her throwing a pencil at me or something.”

Ekko snorts. “Oh, that's easy.” He glances at you through his eyelashes. “Good luck.”

—

“Of all the places you want to meet up, you chose here?”

You straighten up and glance over at Caitlyn, who's standing off to the side, looking around the place. She looks rather out of place here, especially compared to the other customers in the pub—greasy-looking old men, rough-looking teenagers dressed in leather and denim, and drunken bums hanging around the slots.

Caitlyn grimaces as another patron spits tobacco juice to the floor. “Gross…” she mutters, wrinkling her nose.

You shrug, taking a puff from your cigarette. “You're never late,” you reply. “And this place is never busy. Figured it would give us privacy.”

“Right.” Caitlyn takes a seat on a nearby stool, folding her legs neatly. “So… how's Ekko?”

You line up the cue ball to the 8, taking one last look down the table before glancing at Caitlyn. “Um… he's good,” you reply. “A bit unhelpful, but that's alright.”

You aim the cue ball at the 8 again and give it a good hard smack, watching it glide across the table. It hits the 8 ball, which rolls a few inches before stopping. Damn. You’re just off.

“What about you, how's Vi?” you ask, taking a drag from your cigarette and exhaling a billowing cloud of smoke. You set the pool stick down.

Caitlyn coughs, fanning her hand in front of her face to try and clear the smoke away from her lungs. It doesn't work very well. “First thing you should know...” She snatches the cigarette from your hand and drops it to the floor. “She hates smokers.” She stomps on the butt to snuff it out.

“So, you’re telling me that I'm a-” You make air quotations with your fingers. “-non-smoker.”

“For now, yes.”

“Alright, alright. No smoking, got it.” You lean your pool cue on the wall. “Happy?”

“Another thing…” She purses her lips, eyes flicking over your features. “Vi mentioned that Jinx… likes pretty girls.”

Silence.

“Are you telling me I'm not pretty?”

Caitlyn jumps as soon as the words leave your mouth. “N-no!” She gestures at you. “You’re pretty. Definitely pretty.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

Caitlyn reaches into her pocket, pulling out a thick sheet of paper with a few bullet points written on it. “Anyways… there’s more.” She glances over the list, then looks back up at you. “Jinx likes: …art, drawing, bombs, explosions, tinkering, sweets, plushies, dogs, punk music...” She continues reading down the list. “Dislikes: teachers, school, rules, authority figures, boredom, being told what to do, being ignored…” 

She shoves the list into your hands, and you stare down at the words written in neat, orderly rows. “That's everything that I could get out of Vi.”

A few likes and a bunch of dislikes—what an absolute nutcase.

You look back up at Caitlyn. “So what does that give me? am I supposed to… bribe her with art supplies, draw her a picture, give her some sweets, then blow up a building?”

“Have you ever been to The Last Drop?”

You respond with a nod. You've been there a few times... it's usually filled with shady people, but the alcohol is reasonably priced.

“Letters to Cleo will be playing there tomorrow night.” 

“No.”

“Come on, it's just one night-” Caitlyn coaxes.

“No.”

She gives you a nudge. “Just assail your ears for one night. It's her favorite band, after all.”

It's a stupid idea. Spending your free time in a bar, listening to some god-awful music? It's the perfect recipe for a terrible night.

But if it's what Jinx likes...  “Fine.”

“Atta girl,” Caitlyn grins, clearly satisfied. She pulls out her phone, glancing down at the time as her fingers dance over the screen. “Oh… and I'm throwing a party on Friday night,” she says, looking back up at you. “It's the perfect opportunity.”

You blink. “Opportunity for what?”

“For you to ask out Jinx, of course.”

“…I'll think about it.”

—

Your car pulls up to a stop out front, the engine making a low noise. You step out of the car and start walking towards the entrance when you notice Sevika standing outside.

Sevika looks up, and her lips stretch into a smirk as she sees you. “Ah, my friend,” she greets. “It’s been a while.”

You shake her hand. “It’s good to see you again, Sev.”

Sevika eyes you up, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Didn't have you pegged for a fan,” she says. “Aren't they a bit too pre-teen belly-button ring for you?”

“Just a fan of a fan,” you reply. 

The door is slightly ajar, and you can faintly make out the music coming from inside.

“Did a blue-haired girl come in by chance?”

Sevika nods towards the door. “Just sent her through. She's with some other gal.”

You nod and head towards the entrance when Sevika calls out to you. “What happened to that girl you brought in last time?”

Ah, right. It has been a few months. “I dunno,” you reply with a shrug. “I just never called her again.”

Sevika chuckles and shakes her head. “That figures.”

You squeeze through the crowded floor and eventually find an open spot at the bar. The music from the stage is so loud you can feel the floor vibrating under your feet.

You flag down the bartender and place an order, then start idly scanning the crowd. You can make out a flash of blue hair, and your gaze lands on Jinx singing along to the chorus of the song.

You rest against the counter and watch Jinx dancing along to the music. She’s happy, and surprisingly, no “attitude” is present—not the usual scowls, or frowns, or cold looks.

Seeing her like this… giddy, with a wide smile and flushed face, makes you find yourself… smiling.

Huh. That’s... something.

—

Jinx, who is thisclose to having her eardrums explode, yells at the top of her lungs, “I NEED AGUA!”

“Sorry, what?” Lux yells over the music.

“I need agua!” Jinx yells again.

“Agua?”

Jinx nods and points to the bar.

“Alright!” Lux yells, but Jinx is already pushing past her through the crowd.

Jinx manages to reach the bar and signals for the bartender. She glances around as she waits, her eyes landing on you a few feet away. 

Shiiit.

Before she can catch your eyes, you look at a random patron nearby, pretending to be looking at something else.

The bartender walks up to Jinx, shouting over the music. “What can I get for you?”

“Two waters,” she responds, casting a glance back in your direction only to find you completely focused on the stage.

The bartender brings out a pair of water bottles from the cooler and sets them on the counter. Jinx fishes out some change and pays, then grabs the water bottles.

She approaches from behind and raps a knuckle on your shoulder. “If you're planning on asking me out again, you might as well do it already.”

Playing dumb, you gesture back at the stage. “Do you mind? you're kind of ruining it for me.”

Jinx seethes, but stays where she is. “You're not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke.”

The music dies down for a while to give the band a rest, so you no longer have to yell over the music. You turn to face her. “I know. I quit.”

“You... did?” Jinx gives you a weird look, trying to figure out your angle here. “Are you feeling alright?”

That's a pretty fair question, to be honest, because for once in your life, you're actively not trying to flirt with someone.

What's even more weird is that Jinx is actually engaging with the conversation. Jinx moves closer to the stool, standing beside you. “Since when?”

You clear your throat, avoiding her gaze. “Since… yesterday.”

“Yesterday? you quit smoking just yesterday?”

“Just yesterday.”

Jinx looks you up and down. “Why?”

You look over at the band, who are currently changing out their gear. “Because... apparently they're bad for you,” you mumble. With a shrug, you gesture back towards the stage. “They're no Bikini Kill or the Raincoats,” you reply. “But they're alright.”

You step into the crowd, and Jinx is surprised enough to be momentarily stupefied. “Wait-” she sputters before following you. “You know who the Raincoats are?”

You stop in the middle of the crowd, spinning to face her. “Why? don't you?” you ask. “I saw how you were dancing out there. I’ve never seen you look like that...”

“I.. well, I-” she stutters, before clearing her throat and collecting herself. “Yeah, I do,” she replies. “I’m into grunge and punk and stuff. Ever heard of Nirvana?”

You scoff. “Of course. Who hasn’t?”

Jinx laughs, and you resist the urge to smile when you hear it. “Yeah, fair point. What about... Siouxsie and the Banshees?”

“Love them. But you can't tell me you don't know The Damned?”

Jinx's eyes light up at the mention of The Damned. “Hell yeah, they're awesome,” she exclaims, before frowning. “Wait, how do you know The Damned?”

You give yourself a pat on the back. Nailed it. “Excuse you, I have excellent taste in music,” you reply. “How do you know The Damned?”

“I'll have you know, I'm very into music,” she retorts. “I've got a collection of 1300 CDs. Mostly punk and grunge, but some 70s rock and other stuff.”

Her response is a pleasant surprise to you… and maybe attractive. But you squash that thought down because she's Jinx, and no way are you going to feel your heart flutter at anything this woman does.

You whistle. “Only 1,300? That's cute. I have almost 2,000.” 

“No way.” She shakes her head. “No WAY you have 2,000 CDs. You're bluffing.”

“I'm not,” you insist. “I've got 2,000 pieces of music in my home.”

“Damn. You got me beat, then.” She looks around the club, then looks back at you. “Anyway, I gotta-”

“Come to Caitlyn's party with me. Friday night,” you cut her off.

“-Why should I?” 

“-Because I guarantee you'll have a fantastic time.” 

She laughs at your persistence. “You never give up, do you?” she mutters before walking away through the large crowd.

“Was that a yes?” you yell after her.

Her only response is a middle finger held high in the air.

You cup your hands around your mouth. “I'll see you at 9:30 then!”

This is good. Not great, maybe, but not awful either. You didn't get kicked in the face for asking, so you're taking that as a win.

—

“How did it go?”

You tap your fingers on the steering wheel. “Hey, Cait…” you hesitate, glancing around at the empty street. “How much money does it take to buy 2,000 CDs?”

The line goes dead.

…

After a few minutes of silence, it rings again.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

[feral-renaissance-cat]

Having come from a small church town that gets reeeal ugly when you look past the "We're all good neighbors who live good lives :)" facade, I can see the vision here.

Cozy Witch thinks to herself "Hmm, in every cozy mystery there's usually a convenient clue with exposition in the trash somewhere" so there's a game mechanic where you can peek in trash cans and dumpsters but she finds things like crumpled up drafts of suicide notes, or letters from the bank with a final warning about all their overdrawn accounts, or empty prescription bottles for anti-depressants and antipsychotics. She could use these to better understand the struggles of her neighbors and maybe reach out to them to offer emotional support, but haha nope nothing about where the cat went in here, better keep looking. (And she's not qualified to help people with problems like that so what could she do anyway that wouldn't possibly make things worse? They seem happy when she waves at them during her visits to town so they must have it under control anyway. She'll cast a little spell to make more flowers in their garden and that ought to cheer them up.)

Cozy Witch sees a little boy sitting on his back doorstop looking sad. "Aha," she tells herself. "He must be sad because the nice kitty he saw ran away. I can ask him which way it went." Turns out the boy is sad because one of his parents drank too much "grown-up juice" and now they're too sleepy and angry to play with him. She could take him with her on her adventure or at least spend some time with him, but ohhh welllll if his parent comes out looking for him they might be worried about where he went, so best of luck kid but there's still a missing cat out there. (She has heard about how violent alcoholics can get and if they get angry with her for doing anything with their son without permission they might hurt her. Except no, that person runs the charming little bookshop, they would never hurt anyone. She doesn't want them getting upset either way, and doesn't want to find out what they're like when they drink. She'll come back later and bring them some muffins or cookies or something the boy will like.)

Cozy Witch comes to the forest on the other side of town, which of course is where a cat would go to hide. She hears people talking and goes to see if they have any information about where her cat might be. As she gets closer she hears it's actually a small gang who have dragged the local Minority Character out here to rough them up and remind them that You Don't Belong Here Because You're Different. She has a few spell options that could break this up, but it's not her business and besides all this noise would have scared her cat away so she should look somewhere else, far enough away where she can't hear Minority Character's pleas for mercy. (And frankly she sort of agrees that Minority Character would be happier if they moved away because they don't fit in at all and no one would have to get mad if everyone just Fit In.)

Cozy Witch eventually finds her cat playing with the dead body of an endangered bird that it very clearly killed. Earlier in the game there were posters throughout town saying that this bird is a protected species and here's a list of ways you can help the conservation efforts, which includes not letting your pets roam free outside. She dismissed those by telling herself that her cat is different and she keeps it well-fed so it shouldn't have any reason to kill birds. She's a witch after all, and it's her job to protect all living things, which is why she's vegetarian and keeps her cat on a vegetarian diet as well. She gives her cat a talking-to on their way back to her cottage, and that should settle the matter. (Her cat might not have even killed that bird. Maybe it saw a hawk attacking the bird and tried to intervene but it was too late. Maybe it died of natural causes and when her cat found the body it thought that was one of its feather toys. She taught her cat to be nice and not even scratch the furniture so it's just so very unlikely that her cat would kill anything.)

These are all basic examples but it's almost 4am and I'm too tired for deeper nuances

i could not be trusted to make this game because my immediate thought is that the game advertises and markets itself as what op intended but steadily and then rapidly becomes very clear that instead of a cozy cute cottagecore "mystery" the story SHOULD be about the blatant corruption, cruelty, systemic oppression, and persecution and bigotry of her neighbors, but the main character is desperately clinging to the original genre of omg cozy cute and cottagecore because she feels overwhelmed by the potential responsibility to enact meaningful change rather than feel-good aesthetic positivity, thus becoming actively complicit in the town's crimes through her not mere inaction but in fact conscious choice to decide that she will be the protagonist of a cozy cute genre game rather than a story which might challenge her preconceptions of the world and the state of her own community.

[shurisneakers]

saw your requests were open and i figured i would humbly aid 🫡

everyone is always like “oh! bucky with a golden retriever reader this! bucky with a sunshine reader that!” what about bucky with a reader who’s just as moody as he is??

no one ever writes two grumps together and i think it would be an interesting dynamic

Summary: It's New Years Eve and this man simply refuses to do anything but be a pain in your ass.

Warnings: cursing, alcohol

A/N: Sid. did you know. did you know that you're literally a genius. you're so right about grumpy x grumpy. i do not know if I have done this justice but I wrote this out on my phone because I like this request so much thank you for sending one in 😭❤️

New Year’s Eve is a migraine wrapped in tinsel and cheap champagne. You’ve seen too many years roll over into nothing to care anymore.

Doesn’t matter. You’re here because the bar’s open, and when someone says “open bar,” you take it as a challenge to see how open it can really be.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks.

“Whatever’s most expensive.”

He ducks under the counter, comes back with a bottle that looks more like a museum piece than alcohol. Fancy glasswork, gold lettering, the works.

He starts, “This one’s got notes of—”

“Let me see,” you interrupt.

The second the bottle’s in your hands, you turn and walk away.

He sputters behind you, but you wave him off. “Put it on the billionaire’s tab."

You snake through the crowd and confetti, nodding at a few familiar faces but not stopping for any. Emergency exit in sight, you take a seat where you can watch the chaos unfold while staying out of it.

"Pass the bottle."

You don't even bother looking at him as you respond, "Go steal your own."

"You took the most expensive one."

"Get another one."

"This is easier."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Real festive of you."

Still, despite your best efforts, he’s already taking a seat, uninvited.

You take another swig before passing the bottle to him without another word.

He glances at you. "Why are you here?"

"Well, it was quiet before someone showed up."

"Must'a really pissed you off," he says, tipping the bottle back.

God, Bucky was fucking annoying. But his cheeks are flushed pink and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbow.

"Why are you here?" you scowl.

"It's quiet," he replies, like just knows it'll make you mad. He's right.

"You’re in my space.”

“This isn’t your space.”

“I was here first.”

“Congrats. Want a medal?”

"Leave."

"No," he states, resolutely.

Bucky’s the human equivalent of a rock in your shoe—persistent, irritating, and impossible to ignore.

You feel face warm with irritation. "Where's your date gone?"

"Nat set me up, I've never met her before," he says, as though it’s the least surprising thing in the world. "Haven't seen her in thirty minutes."

"What, you couldn't brood your way into her pants?"

He gives you a dry, unimpressed look. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Doesn't look like you're doing any kissing at all," you scoff.

He tips the bottle back, takes a slow drink, then hands it to you. "You think about me kissing a lot?"

"I don't think about you."

He snorts, low and humorless, and you hate that it makes you want to laugh.

Bucky's fucking annoying. He's run his hand too many times through his hair, and there’s a smudge of something—lipstick, maybe—on his collar, and he's stretched out too damn much, like he's right at home.

He sends you a look. It makes you want to hide. You hate the way his eyes linger, like he’s waiting for you to flinch.

"Bottle," you demand.

He hands it over silently, crossing his arms over his chest, staring right ahead.

"How much longer?" he asks, checking his watch.

"You can leave."

"Sure can," he says, but doesn’t move.

"So leave."

"No."

You stare at him. "Find somewhere else to sit."

"No," he replies.

The minutes stretch. The bottle passes back and forth, your irritation simmering every time he exhales, every time he looks at you like he’s got something to say but doesn’t.

Bucky was fucking annoying. He smelt like expensive cologne and Tide detergent. His eyes are tired and his voice is scratchy. when he shifts beside you, it’s like he takes up more space than anyone has a right

He holds his hand out for the bottle. You give it to him.

"What are you gonna do at midnight?" he asks.

"Finish this bottle."

"What about after?"

"I'll get another one."

Bucky rolls his eyes. “That all?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” You glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch. He never does.

“Good."

His jaw’s tense, his eyes dark and sharp, and for a second, you think maybe he’s as pissed at himself as you are.

Silence falls. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. It’s just there. Like him.

"What’re you gonna do at midnight? Cry into whiskey?” you ask pointedly.

“I could, but you drank it all." He rolls his eyes.

There's a lot left. You give him the bottle. He takes it without a word, fingers brushing against yours.

Bucky takes a swig. “No one waiting for you at midnight?"

"Loads," you scoff. "Got a line out the damn door waiting to kiss me."

"Uh huh," be says.

There's silence.

You look at him, only for find him eyeing you.

“No one waiting for you?”

You scoff. “Why, you volunteering?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just studies you with those sharp, unreadable eyes. “Maybe.”

"Sure, Barnes, I'll kiss you at midnight," you drag sarcastically.

His face doesn't shift. Your brows furrow.

"Christ, you're bein' serious," you mumble.

He shrugs non committedly. "I could think of worse things to do."

"Wow," you say dryly. "Charming."

"Just sayin'."

With two minutes to go, you find that it's harder to look him in the eye. Your heart stumbles over itself, and you take another drink to cover the sudden heat crawling up your neck.

Either the whiskey was really starting to take hold, or the damn spirit of the damn season was getting to you.

"Look, I wasn't plannin' on asking anyone else," he says.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Do with that what you will," he says, taking a swig.

"What about your date?" you test.

"Don't think she remembers I exist."

You observe him. His shirt is unbuttoned, and his coat jacket lay on his lap. His bowtie also hung precariously from his neck.

Bucky was really fucking annoying. His hair is toussled and his stubble is rough and you're fairly certain his nose is sunburnt. You know this because you've been staring at him every day from the second he stepped foot in the compound, withdrawn and scowling.

It's late and you're tired of a lot of things and you're careless, so you stare too long. He catches you.

"What?" he bites.

"I'm assessing," you say, then add grudgingly, “You're not... terrible."

Which is a lie. He's beautiful. He's acutely aware of this on some days. Those days are harder for you.

He stares at you. "I can see why there's a line out the door for you."

"Go join them," you say. "I'll finally get some fuckin' quiet."

He exhales a short laugh. "No."

You can hear the crowd shouting numbers, but it’s distant, unimportant. Bucky’s eyes are on you, steady.

The crowd cheers.

Bucky's really fucking annoying.

But he kisses you like he's liked you all his life. Like he's real tired of waiting. It lingers just long enough to make your stomach flip when you realise he still tastes like whiskey.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t look smug. He doesn’t say anything at all. Just hands you the bottle and leans back like nothing happened.

His cheeks are red. His lips are swollen. He's never looked prettier in his damn life.

“Happy New Year,” you mutter, staring at the bottle because you can’t look at him.

“Sure,” he says, voice low, almost hoarse.

[thewistlingbadger]

I find Jinx's relationship with Sevika to be fascinating given her relationship with Mylo. Mylo was Jinx's older brother and all he ever did was shit on her at every possible chance. He made her feel like shit all of the time. He blamed her for every single major and minor inconvenience. It was so bad that she still hears his taunts in her head years after he's died.

Now compare Mylo's treatment to Sevika's. It's pretty identical. Sevika is constantly bringing down Jinx and shitting on her. She sees Jinx as below her and she resents her because despite her flaws, she is favored above Sevika by Silco. This mirrors how despite the fact that Jinx always fucked things up as a kid, Vi always viewed her as faultless and instead took it out on her other siblings. Mylo and Sevika both have to do double the work just to stay in Vi/Silco's good graces because of Jinx, and no matter how much effort they put in they'll never be desired in the way Jinx is. Both Mylo and Sevika make sure to complain extensively about Jinx while in private and front of Vi/Silco. Sevika personally gets joy out of shit talking Jinx directly to her face.

But this is what makes their relationship so interesting. Because while we see Jinx was deeply bothered by Mylo's shit talking as a child, she isn't even slightly phased by Sevika's shit talking. She straight up doesn't care and doesn't take a single thing Sevika says to heart. She knows Sevika is just shitting on her for the sake of shitting on her. She knows Sevika is full of shit. I think that's really compelling and I also believe it speaks to how much Jinx's confidence and self image has grown in the few years it's been.

[tsukii0002]

Mc and Luke have gone to get some stuff to continue celebrating the new year in the House of the Lamentations.

Luke: Hey Mc, don't you think a new year is kind of scary?

Mc: What do you mean Luke?

Luke: I never thought about this before coming to Devildom…. but things can change a lot in a single year…

Mc: *sighing* Yes, things in a year can change a lot, we don't know where we're going to be next year.

Luke: *looking at the ground* To have things that make me feel secure end or think that something I love is never going to be the same again… makes me feel insecure.

Mc: …

Luke: In a way… a new year is scary, I'm scared that the world I'm so happy in will be totally different, *looking at Mc* that my relationships… my relationship with you won't be the same.

Silence fell between them

Mc: *smiling* The new year is like a symbolism really, everything can change any time Luke, just because we enter a new year doesn't mean everything hasn't changed before.

Luke: That's true.

Mc: And change isn't always bad… sometimes it's scary and can make us anxious, but things come to an end and there's nothing we can do about it.

Luke: I know…

Mc: But, they also start, great things can begin, or they don't end and simply transform *placing their hand on the angel's shoulders* changes are part of our life and we have to learn to live with them.

Luke: But what if we change? what if we are no longer the way we were and… and we can't be together anymore?

Mc: Then, I will make an effort to get to know you again and to be your friend again, change doesn't mean forgetting, and if it's so important we can try that, with us, our relationship can transform.

Luke: *with crystalline eyes, making a little pout* I will also try my best to make you always love me Mc, even if you become an angel or a demon.

Mc: *smiling* Thank you Luke *hugging him* sometimes we worry so much about what's to come or what we can't change, that we don't see what we can do now.

Luke: *hugging them back harder* You're right Mc… if we only worry about the future we can never be happy.

Mc: You're right Luke, that happens to us a lot *leaving him and holding out their hand* now, we should get back, they've all taken too much Demonus to leave them unsupervised.

Luke: That's right, *taking their hand* we'd better hurry.

The two walked back on their way to the House of the Lamentations.

Mc: By the way Luke… has anyone said anything to you about this New Year's thing?

Luke: Solomon started talking about how little a year has always meant to him and how much it means now… he was actually laughing a lot, but it got me thinking about a lot of things.

Mc: Got it, no more human drinks at parties, noted.

.

.

.

.

.

Well, well, happy new year to all of you!!! 🎉🎉I hope you have started 2025 on the right foot and, as they say, I hope this year brings you only good things. Although we all know that almost never happens, in one year life can change a lot, to unsuspected points. When I started 2024 I never thought that Obey me! would end (I know it is only the official content of the game, not the franchise, but you know), although it is one of the things that has helped me to pass a not very good year for me, but life goes on, and just as things that we do not like can also come good things can come. Regarding a purpose for this new year in this blog well, keep creating content, create more complex stories about these characters that I love so much and focus more on world building and solve the mysteries that have been left open in the Devildom (now that everything is in our hands), work more on my Mc and draw a lot, a lot. Just as I hope to continue to see the Obey me! fandom alive and creating as many wonderful things as it has been so far, even more.

So, after this badge, it only remains for me to wish you a happy new year! And the wish that things will only get better for everyone.

Thanks for this year 🩷, a hug from this sheep in hell.

.

.

[hisui555]

Dunno if it's welcomed (inform me and I'll delete if it's not) but tacking onto that :

A "cult" definition can also apply to anything outside religion - political groups (think National Socialism aka Nazis, or what's going on in dictatorial countries currently like North Korea, China, Russia - just to name the most known), family or business groups (the mafia, which overlaps both) or in relationships (toxic partners - more often than not they're found out to have Narcissistic Personality Disorder or any other inflated ego sociopathic disorder), who set themselves as the "Only True and Right Thing" in one's life, cut off the rest, and instill such conspiracy theories, because having a common enemy allows to rally people : "These [insert designated enemy here] are why things are going bad for you, chose me, I can fight against them and provide you what you seek."

Instability and uncertainty are what the people chosing those cults are the most afraid of : the good old unknown of change, of maybe losing something that's important to them (routine, lifestyle, status, having to insert a new parameter in their lives), even if it doesn't affect them directly. Sometimes it's also just a general laziness to take the steps or make efforts (climatosceptics), but in short, they prefer to hand someone else their brains to think for them.

Like OP said above, people like this believe strongly in a "everything that happens to me MUST have a reason to happen to me", because it's easier to put the blame on someone or something else, or thinking it's "retribution" (earned or not : good old "Heaven or Hell" thinking) that makes up the meat and bread of Whackyland's conspiracy theories. Something must be out to get them, or else they have only smokescreens to justify their own infortune (be it general bad luck or changes they don't like).

A common trait is also this kind of "center of the universe" thinking (in their eyes, everything is out to get them, in a malicious way, like laser-guided unjustified bad karma), though it also goes hand in hand with leaving the common sense, brains, and sense of critic into the hands of a structure, person, group, etc, because said structure, person, group is doing the thinking for them, and, guess what, designating the enemy : "These [insert whatever] are the reason you feel unstable, sad, mad, bad, etc."

The whole paradox, naturally, is coming from a behavior-controlling manipulative cult forcing identities on their listeners and projecting what they're doing onto the designated "enemy" to comfort and consolide those people into the idea that the "enemy" is manipulating them, forcing them into identities, and controlling their behaviors. Two birds, one stone.

It's a very tail-biting-snake, egocentric way to want control in one's life but without the burden to make efforts managing said control : someone else does it for them, and they're comfortable with it. Consistency and their own routine is reassuring for them, and as long as said cult provides it, it's all fine, but when something arises that changes said routine and view of the world (newly established human rights and acknowledgement of them, for example), they lose footing and are convinced it's against them (and also never the cult's fault, of course, since the cult, and their way of life, is "in danger").

Anything they see as poking a bit at their sense of comfort, and comfort zone, is classified as a menace targetting them. An "absolute truth" is comfortable, 'cuz you don't have to think about other, way more varied truths. As if math could be solved with a single formula and you just have to apply it (or, should I say, "X is the answer to everything" ?), and if you follow that, you're made for life, without having to put in the effort to think or do much. It doesn't allow for change, it doesn't allow for unpredictability, for what's unsure, uncertain, unknown - yet again.

It's a mental fragility, actually, and a very strong yet paradoxically quite submissive sense of ego and self-preservation guiding those thoughts. Basically, it's a sense of feeling unsafe outside of the boundaries of one's little world, a world they passed control of and decisions on to someone or something else : wanting to watch TV, but letting the program decide instead of making your own. I could even go on with AI on that : you don't need to think, it's already done for you - minimum effort for maximum result, and if it's not to your liking, not your responsibility, it's the AI's fault ! Wonderful win-win situation, ain't it ?

Yeah, that's actually called mental dependency - and that's something conspiracy theories often correlate with : people paradoxically think they're doing independent thinking ("I won't be fooled like the other sheeple") but it's actually just a form of burrowing oneself into one's comfort zone and victim role, cutting ties with the world without truly seeking the right informations - just the first thing in their sense found on the Internet is enough.

Wanting comfort, certainty and safety in one's life is a very natural thing, but convoluting events and reality, thinking oneself as the center of the universe, and above all putting one's brains in someone or something else's hands is very harmful on oneself. Unpredictability and uncertainty don't equal "danger", they just cross at times. Knowledge (something cults ban, curiously) can help make uncertainty enjoyable and turn it into positive discovery, help discern what's potentially harmful from what isn't. Or else it's good old "Fear of the Other/Dark/Unknown" again.

Long story short : being a "comfortable 'victim of the system' " - in a place where you can complain all you want, control your life but without the burden of thinking and, correlating to thinking, responsibility for one's own actions. That "not my fault" thinking : conspiracy theorists are all about self-satisfaction and self-congratulation, and cults often encourage and drastically enhance that "snitch on the ones not like us to preserve yourself, leave the decisions to us, do as we say, be a 'good member' and it won't be your fault" mentality.

The Conspiratorial Mindset

So, I've always had a bit of an interest in scams and hokum, and what people call "Cults".

One of the common refrains when you talk about religious Cults is, "If you think about it all religions have beliefs that seem odd to outsiders" and this is true, but as I read more about cults I started to think,

"Wait, a lot of these groups aren't united just by having unusual religious or supernatural views; a lot of them also seem to have matching patterns of behaviors that have nothing to do with belief in psychic space aliens"

I'm talking about things like,

Having a leadership structure which is absolute, where the top leaders cannot be disciplined or even openly criticized by lower members;

Exerting tremendous control over the dress and behavior of adherents;

Telling adherents that outsiders are untrustworthy and that contact with outsiders should be strictly limited and heavily monitored by organizational leadership;

The extensive and common use of shunning and reprogramming in response to violation of any of the above rules.

In some groups, failing to adhere to the dress code and spending a lot of time with outsiders is, at worst, the subject of a few little jabs at family gatherings. In other groups, those same behaviors are treated as Defcon one crises and become the central issue of the adherent's relationship with everybody else in the organization until they can be bullied back into doing the organization's bidding.

It was gratifying to learn that other people have noticed these patterns (Some people prefer the term "High Control Group" to "Cult" because it highlights what the actual problem is)

I am starting to notice similar dynamics in what are commonly called "Conspiracy theories".

The thing about conspiracy theories is... Well, conspiracies exist, and sometimes groups of powerful people get together to do something in secret which would get them in big trouble if they were to do it openly.

But I am starting to notice a particular, I don't know, a particular way of conceptualizing the organization and purpose of conspiracies which is unique to some people and which characterizes the kind of conspiracy theorist who takes Alex Jones seriously.

I kind of think of it as a "Witch-Hunting mentality".

For certain people in more primitive times and places, if they, say, slipped off a ladder and hurt themselves, their first thought would be, "That must have happened because a witch cursed me. We need to find and punish the witch who cursed me."

And this isn't just the attribution of malice that characterizes this idea:

One malicious conspiracy that might make you fall off a ladder is a manufacturer who doesn't care about safety ratings. Imagine that the manufacturer is really deliberately malicious here. A subordinate comes to him and says, "Our ladders can't reliably hold the weight of a person and a lot of them will probably break and cause people to fall and hurt themselves." and he says, "I know that but who cares, by the time people figure it out it'll be too late to get their money back."

That's a malicious conspiracy, but, importantly, if Bob buys a faulty ladder and falls off, the conspiracy wasn't trying to hurt Bob; it merely didn't care whether Bob got hurt.

Now, this distinction doesn't take away the malice and hostility towards Bob, but if you go to the ladder manufacturer and say, "Hey boss, Bob bought one of our faulty ladders, but he's really skinny so the ladder didn't break" the manufacturer will go, "Who the fuck is Bob? And good, that's one less angry person."

Whereas imagine Bob's ladder has been cursed to break by a witch. The witch did it because she hates Bob, and wants him to fall, and if she finds out he didn't fall, she'll go, "Curses, I'll have to find some other way to hurt Bob."

Conspiracy theorists, it seems to me, are far more inclined to conceptualize conspiracies as acts of deliberate malice aimed at them rather than acts of negligent malice.

@loving-n0t-heyting posted this article from the New York Post which contains a good example of what I mean:

“I thought I was on the cutting edge of promoting rights for gay people,” Yang said. “But then I started looking deeper into where this was coming from and who was paying for it, and I started to get very disillusioned...

I assume the people paying for it are LGBT advocacy groups? Did you, uh, not know that the people you were working for were paying you to work for them?

“When you really dig down you can see how much of this comes from documents and plans at the United Nations,” Yang said, referring in part to the UN’s “Gender Equality” initiative. “It’s part of a global agenda to restructure society, re-structure our social norms and the economy,” Yang claimed. “They are undermining the sexually dimorphic nature of reality and breaking down the differences between the sexes to break down our identity. They are constructing identities for us and they want us to adopt them.”

Oh, I see.

This is exactly what I mean. LGBT rights efforts make Yang and others feel disoriented, like society is being restructured and that they are being left behind, like they aren't quite in control of social norms and that stable identity categories can't be relied on anymore.

Now, one kind of conservative might look at that and say, "These are bad second order effects of LGBT people trying to assert their lifestyle in public and that's why we should oppose them."

But another kind says, "These changes make me feel unstable. Therefore, the main purpose of the changes is to make me feel unstable. In order to understand these changes, I need to figure out who wants me to feel unstable and what they would gain from making me feel unstable."

The idea that Yang's feeling of instability is simply a side effect of a series of efforts mainly focused on LGBT rights is incomprehensible. Instead, she believes that there is a series of efforts focused mainly on making her feel unstable, with LGBT rights as a kind of side effect to the main goal of making her feel unstable.

This kind of thing is, to me, a big red flag that indicates that we are starting to float away from reasonable conspiracy thinking into crazy town.

I am particularly curious if folks can recommend any writers or researchers who have noticed this dynamic.

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain. abuse is depicted in this one right off the bat,ptsd/nightmares, panty sniffing, face sitting, over stim, biting, squirting, i think our wolf just hates us okay? because everytime i write her, she comes out so mean.

please click this link! each click helps me earn some extra money, as well as each person that clicks the link and signs up (its completely free, and takes 0 time), a completely harmless way to earn some extra cash that doesn't involve giving me any of your own!

happy new years :) feel free to send thots/ideas to my inbox for these babes (or even for the other 141 fellas)

series masterlist here.

PART THREE: hurts si’

“You dumb bitch, look what you did!” Glass clattered and a hand made contact with your face, causing something to drop from your hands as they flew to your face for protection, a whimper leaving your puckered lips as sharp shards scatter about the ground and imbed in the skin of your legs, stinging. “Are you fuckin’ dropping shit now? Huh?” Another blow, this one landing on your ear, causing it to ring and your eyes to blur for a moment as you wobbled on the balls of your feet, swaying from side to side. The man yelling at you was larger than you, older. His breath was hot and sour as he screamed in your face, his words sounding a million miles away as you tried to focus. What had you done this time? It wasn’t you that had knocked over the glass of water..you weren’t even near that side of the table..it was all your brother, all the boy who sat and watched as your father threatened to beat you black and blue again for something that you didn’t do. 

The ringing becomes too much, you fall to your knees and groan, head pounding and eyesight blurry, you barely notice the shards of whatever dish had fallen from your hands pushing further into the skin of your shins as you sink to the rough wood floor of the kitchen. 

“...OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR, OMEGA!” He screamed, your hearing seeming to come back around, or maybe he just bellowed loud enough to overpower the ringing..you shook violently, fear and pain ringing through your body as he grabbed you by the hair on your scalp, dragging you across the ground, pushing the sharp bits of glass deeper into your skin..you would have to go digging to get them out now..

“No!NO! Papa, Papa please!” Your voice was frantic, shrill eyes wide as they finally focused enough to comprehend where he was pulling you off to, the familiar dingey wooden door of your own personal hell hole coming into sight. You’d only just been allowed out after..you couldn’t even remember how long..long enough that the days blurred together and you couldn’t tell how many tomorrows had come and passed. “No! I’ll be good, i’ll be good!” You clawed at his arm above you, trying desperately to pry his alpha strength off of your head, kicking your legs in an effort to slow him down, to buy yourself enough time to talk him out of it. 

“There’s no such thing as a good Omega, you’re living proof!” He growls, throwing open the deadbolt to the door before swinging it open. The darkness awaiting you seemed thicker than usual. “You all deserve to be punished! To be hid, to be locked away and never looked at again! You deserve to be treated like the runts and vermin you fucking are! Your mother tricked me into thinking that she was sweet and innocent, that she needed me to protect her, to fill her with little alpha pups, and then she gave me you! And then you killed her when you breathed life and stole hers, and i saw you for what you are, nothing but a conniving, evil monster!” He held your hair tightly at the top of the stairs, forcing you to look up into his eyes as he ranted at you, for something that you didn’t even remember. Weren’t capable of remembering..

He raised you off of your feet and your eyes widened, a shrill plea leaving your chest “NO, NO! N-AHHGH!”

Simon lay in bed, hands balled into fists behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, the moon dancing across it as it shined through his window, jaw clenched as he listened to you whimper and moan through the thin wall separating your room from his. His senses were on high alert, his wolf haywire in his mind. It took every ounce of self control he had not to jerk off to the smell of you, once he started he knows he probably wouldn’t ever stop, not until he’d had the real thing and not just the thought of you. He knew that his cock was probably going to be perpetually hard now, never going to go down until he’d stuffed the meaty length of it into your sweet smelling cunt, not until he’d fucked it good and stuffed it full of his pups would he even be able to think like a normal alpha again. 

The smell of you was intoxicating. It flooded his senses and over powered his mind. You were sweet smelling, decadent he could even say. He had noted it before you’d been in heat but now that you were, even in just the beginning stages, it was more powerful, more endearing and mouth watering. It was enough to make a man forget how to behave. It was enough to drive an Alpha into delirium, to trigger his own rut. 

He grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to think about anything other than you, shoving a knife into someone's chest, pizza and a cheap pint, johnny- no! Not that scottish prick! His wolf howled and he grunted, fisting his own hair just to feel something to keep himself grounded. Johnny wouldn’t shut his trap, his intrusive thoughts and his lack of a thought process allowing him to just blurt out how good you smelled, he could just hear his voice in his head, could hear him “Bet that lit’le cunt is nie’ n warm, wet ‘n sloppy, eh LT? Smells like a fookin’ dream..” He was just shooting up in bed with a growl at imaginary Johnny when your scream pierced his ears, his bedroom door slammed against the wall, ricocheting as he busted through yours after flying down the hallway, practically ripping it off of its hinges. He looked around wildly, looking for any sign of an intruder, ready to fight off some stray Alpha or Beta that might have followed your pheromones from town in hopes of mating and breeding you against your will in the middle of the night. 

He saw nobody, saw nothing but you thrashing wildly in the middle of the king sized bed you had built your nest upon, spotting the hoodie he’d shrugged off of his body and laid in the middle of your spot while you took a hot bath earlier in the day, satisfied that he could leave you alone with something to scent to help calm you down. He had paid enough attention in Omega anatomy class to remember that that was something that you guys craved, and just the scent of a strong Alpha could help ease the pain wrought by your heat. You were in pain, he decided, that was why you had screamed as you had, there was nothing for him to protect you from, nothing for him to keep you safe from in your vulnerable state. 

He had just wrestled his wolf back from the forefront of his mind and was slowly backing away from your bed and back towards the hallway when you let loose another scream, this one was one of pure terror. You were sat straight up in bed, his fight or flight triggered, he throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around you as he throws you back down, tucking you into his body as he looses a mean growl, baring his teeth as he looked all about, trying to find what you were so terrified of. 

“No!NO!” You screamed, thrashing and bucking under him, your eyes squeezed shut. He looks down at you, wolf going crazy. “Help her! HELP HER YOU BIG DUMB OAF CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S SCARED?!” His wolf whimpered, howled, only making Simon’s heart race more as he tried to form a coherent thought. 

“Rosie..” He grunted, patting your face lightly,  still clutching you to his body as best as he could, legs on either side of you as he hovered over you on the bed. “Rosie, lovie, wake up-wake up, lovie..” He patted your face, again, a little harder this time and your eyes finally fluttered, looking up at him. 

“S’mon?” You whispered, hands clutching the chest of his tank top from where your arms were trapped between the both of your bodies, unable to move with his weight pressed against yours. “Had a bad dream..”

He sighs, head leaning down so his forehead is touching yours, noses brushing against each other. “I know, lovie, i know.” He says after a moment, shifting his body so that you’re laying on top of him, using his chest and shoulders as a pillow, legs entwined with his own. All thoughts of breeding you gone and out the window for now, his only thought and instinct to keep you safe. “Not goin’ anywhere okay? Gonna stay right 

‘ere an’ keep you safe..” 

And he did, letting you doze back off on top of him, his mind still reeling as he tried to imagine exactly what had happened in that head of yours to make you scream with such terror, to have you so scared that he could feel your body shaking. He wanted, no he needed to know so that he could make sure you were never scared of it again. So he could take it and obliterate it for ever making you feel anything but safe under the same roof as him. 

Eventually, his wolf and his mind calmed down and he was able to lull himself into a light sleep of his own, his arms not moving from around you. 

You wake to a warmth spread from your head to your toes, a dampness to your skin that had you wriggling out of your sleep shirt with eyes closed still, not registering the soft body beneath you until you went to plop your head back down and it didn’t sink into the soft down of your pillow, but the scraggly hairs of a muscular, wide chest that was poking out of the top of a gray tank top, the kind a man would wear under his tshirt if he wanted the extra layers, or sleep in, you supposed. You knew immediately that it was Simon and as if on cue your wolf fought her way to to the front of your mind, your aching cunt clenching around nothing but your sopping panties as you realized that your mound wasn’t too far from where his cock would be, your leg thrown over his waist, held there by one of his large, meaty hands gripping your equally meaty thigh. 

“Look at him, our pretty Alpha..so handsome, so strong..” She wasn’t wrong, he was pretty. His skull mask was nowhere to be found, and to say it was strange to not see it adorned on his face would be an understatement, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. “Want to give him pretty little pups, let him fill us, please, please, please! I’ll be so good! I promise!” You groan, trying to shut her voice out, though it was hard to do. At this stage, your mind belonged to her, this was her time, and you had always let it be, but you hadn’t had an Alpha home during your heat in..awhile. 

You let your eyes roam over his face for a while, failing to notice the way his breathing changes as he fully wakes up, aware of your gaze. He has such a strong jaw, a strong, handsome face, sweet looking even, you would say, despite the scars lingering along his pale skin. Your lips quiver at the realization that someone had probably put them there and that thought alone made you want to cry because how could anyone ever want to hurt this perfect specimen of an alpha? His nose is terribly crooked, as if it had been broken on more than one occasion..you would know, yours had been broken at least three times that you remembered. You wanted to sit on it. To feel his nose brush against your aching, throbbing clit, to feel his scruff of a beard that had grown over night against the apex of your thighs, leaving beard burn as he fucks you with his wet, strong tongue. 

You don’t notice that your hips are bucking against the side of his hard stomach, don’t realize you’ve whimpered until his hand squeezes your thigh, fingers marking the skin from the way that he grips at it, brown eyes suddenly shot open and staring you down, full lips tugged into a wicked smirk. 

“Easy there, babygirl..” He grunts, voice thick and raspy after not having used it for a bit. 

You pout at his words,  wolf whimpering. The desperate noise leaves your throat and you feel no shame as your hips buck again, needing the friction. 

“Hurts Si’..” You whimper, not giving a damn to ask why he was in your bed in the first place. You remembered having a nightmare, remembered him vaguely waking you from it. You assume he had stayed to make sure you were okay. “Need you..need you to help me, Simon..please?” 

He closes his own eyes at your words, fingers digging further into the fat of your thigh, as if he’s trying to control himself. You don’t want him to, you want hm to lose control, to use you in any way he saw fit, you wouldn’t fight him, would be as pliable for him as you could possibly be, you just wanted to breathe in his scent, suck his cock into your aching pussy for a bit..like a chew toy for the wolf taking over your mind. 

You can’t help but to giggle for a second at the thought, you couldn’t help but to think that his cock was probably big enough to pose as a chew toy anyway, no way you could get your mouth all the way around it if he let suck it. 

“Rosi-”

“Simonnn” You preen, pouting at him and you can just feel the resolve break. Oh! What a good Alpha, not making us beg! “Please help me..hurts..need you so bad..please!”

A growl bubbles in his chest and you could how in excitement knowing you’ve won, “Fine!” Knowing he’s about to bully his cock into your cunt until he’s had his fill, until you’re crying and begging him for more, until he’s knocked you up good with one of his little blonde pups- “But i’m not going to fuck you,” A whine as you pout and you watch his eyes widen, watch him fight with himself for a second as he shakes his head, as if shutting up that voice that you  know he hears too. “No-don’t do that babygirl..You listen to me now.” The sternness in his voice catches your attention, your cunt pulsing at the way it radiates through you. “I want to fuck you so bad, lovie, want to sit you on my cock for fuckin’ hours, believe me, it’s all ‘ve been able to think about since I walked into that garden..but I can’t do it when you’re not all the way there, when you’re delirious in heat..” A pout that damn near breaks him, that definitely breaks the wolf in his head, howling ricocheting in his ears as he tries to talk. “I’m going to fuck you, lovie, but not until your heat is done, yeah? Don’t worry babygirl, m’still gonna help you though, know it hurts, baby, know you need my help..” 

You hadn’t realized he had bunched the waistband of your panties in his hand until then, letting go of your thigh to pull at the seam of the fabric, ripping it apart and tugging it from your mound. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the soaked cotton to his crooked nose, closing his eyes as he takes a long sniff, a deep growl radiating through the room as he opens his eyes, staring straight into yours as his fist clenches around your panties. 

“Cm’ere, babygirl.” He grunts, pulling at you so that you’re sitting directly on his chest, pussy leaving a wet swatch in his chest hairs as he squeezes both hips. “Wanna sit on my face, don’t you? Saw the way you were looking at me, know just what you were thinkin’ huh?” You nod your head, but make no move to actually do it. You’re so big? What if you suffocate him? Bitch shut the fuck up and let him eat your fucking pussy, you whiney brat! He’s a big boy, he can fucking take it! You had the random thought that your wolf might actually try and kill you if you didn’t let her enjoy this, if you didn’t swallow your self conscious thoughts and let this glorious man eat you for breakfast. “Aht-aht, stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking-” He pulls your hips so you’re sitting just below his neck now, your hands immediately catching yourself on the headboard, preventing him from pulling you up past his chin. He narrows his eyes at you, you see him shake his head, the firm line his plus lips are set in. A warning to behave and let him be in control. “Don’t-you want this, don’t you..want me to help you? Need me to make it better?” 

“Pleas-ungh” In a show of pure strength, he has you fully sat on his face before you can finish the word, warm, thick tongue devouring you as swirls it around your clit, you can’t help the rock of your hips or the way your head throws back as you moan when his tongue teases your aching whole, nose rubbing against your clit the way you imagined it when you tilted your hips. 

He groans beneath you, hands splayed on your bare ass cheeks, holding you in place as he grips so hard you’re sure his fingerprints will be permanently indented into your skin, not that you think you’d really mind it. “That’s it lovie, ride my face..”

You didn’t have to be told twice now that you had started. The way his tongue worked you open, the way he held you in place but still let you rut your hips against his face, making a slimy, glistening mess..his stubble brushed against your inner thighs, keeping you grounded from coming on the spot, though it doesn’t last for long. He’s got you coming within moments, skilled tongue going between clit and your pulsing hole, giving you what you needed as you rocked back and forth, taking what you wanted. “Tha’s a good girl, lovie..give me one more?” 

You’re not sure how many ‘one more’s’ you give him, but by the time he’s got you on the brink of over stimulation, he’s got his whole tongue buried in your hole, his teeth nibbling at your clit as you buck and tremble, tears brimming your eyes as you grip his hair in each hand, tugging harshly. His hands pushed up your shirt, exposing your soft, pudgy belly to him as he squeezed your tits in each of his large palms, fingers playing with your nipples as he fucks you with his mouth, cries and whimpers leaving your own. 

“Si-oh-mm, please! I can-so good, feel’s so good!” You’re a babbling mess, cheeks red as your thighs shake, still clenched around his head. He’s been at it for almost an hour and you swear he’s barely come up from air, he’s barely let you move off of his face for more than a moment, his mouth leaving your cunt only to praise you or bite into meat of your thighs, leaving a harsh imprint of his mouth, a reminder that this is in fact real. You’re on the brink of another when you realize that this one feels different, feels almost painful, even. “Si-mo-n, si-ugh-umf..hur-urts…” You screech out, swatting at the top of his head, he only grunts, pulling you down farther onto his mouth, his hands going back to grip your tighs, leaving your precious tits unattended as he does, holding you there as he brings another harsh bite to your clit, sending you over the edge. “Simon!” You shout, vision going blurry as something snaps in your lower belly, a gush of fluid coming from your cunt that has your cheeks heating as Simon groans out below you, lapping it up as quickly as it comes out, slurping even as he continues to make out with your pussy as you slouch against the headboard, being sure to avoid your overly sensitive clit as he does, leaving open mouthed kisses to your mound that honestly could have had you coming again if you weren’t entirely fucked out just from his mouth. How many was that? Five? Six? 

“You okay up there babygirl?” His voice is thick and raspy, sexy as he peeks up at you from between your still shaking legs. All you can do is nod meekly, unsure of what to say, mind oddly quiet as you pant out breaths, trying to come down from such an epic high. “Squirted al’over me lovie, legs are still shakin’” He’s chuckling at you, big warm hands rubbing your thighs in an effort to soothe the shaking. 

“M’sleepy, si’” You whimper out, still sagged against the headboard, mind gone numb, legs gone soft, heat and wolf satiated for the time being. 

“Yeah?” He asks, voice soft as he sits up slowly, sliding you down his body. Your clit catches on his chest hairs and the fabric of his now soaked tank top on the way down and your hips jumps, your whimper ringing out as he shushes you, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “Need’ta nap baby?” 

Your eyes are already closing before you can get the words out, before you can even nod your head, you barely register the way his lips kiss the side of your head as he leans back with you in his arms, the way his scent floods your senses, easing you into an easy slumber, as if that had been his plan all along. The last thing you remember before sleep takes you completely is wondering what the hell you had gotten yourself into with him..

taglist: @wise-owl @bingoz @astrxsee @gazsluckyhat @howlerwolfmax @thisbitch-6 @littlelovebug98 @ungodlydilf @madsothree

[thelampisaflashlight]

Something, something Dew going up against Ifrit in a fight, ya know, a bit of friendly competition for funsies, resulting in a pack division and some serious trust issues for Dew after he hears members of his pack cheering for Ifrit to really give it to him, and hearing basically no one rooting for him.

Like, he expects Alpha to cheer for Ifrit, it is what it is, but then it's, like, Omega and Mist telling him to wallop Dew/"put him in his place", and when all is said and done and Dew manages to win, they go to congratulate him but he pushes them away, because seriously what the fuck?

Dew just fully ices them out after that, because he didn't expect to win, but the fact that they were actively calling for him to get his ass kicked and mocking him, even as a "joke", has him tense and really at odds with himself and his position in the group.

Even Ifrit has to take a step back and think about how things went down, because he was having fun and didn't really notice what was being said and he's just dumbfounded that they got so verbally vicious towards Dew while funneling so much support into him.

Really knocks him and his ego through a loop, and HE goes to apologize to Dew for the others' actions, but, like, the damage has already been done.

Totally fucks up whatever bond they all had in a too little too late kind of way.

It gets to a point that even if he won, Dew feels like he lost so much and has to wonder if his packmates even liked him to begin with or even believed in him at all, and he wants to leave then and there.

And maybe he does leave for a while, goes back to the "outside world" and tries to just live the way he used to, it doesn't last that long before he comes back, but when he does, he's not as open and friendly as he used to be when he first arrived.

Dew's trust was fragile from day one, and now it's just completely gone, so even when the others approach him genuinely, he thinks they're secretly thinking ill of him, so he sticks to hanging around the siblings of sin and really devotes his free time to diving into his work for the church and ignore the other ghouls unless given no other choice.

Just, something, something, Dew still, despite putting up this cold exterior, still caring about his packmates enough to forge bonds with his new ones, showing the old ones that, "It wasn't me, it was you." not even out of spite at this point.

That their underestimating him and poor handling of the situation lost them a friend who they still see basically every day, and, man, doesn't that sting?

Dew, who moves on independently of the rest, not even caring after, like, a year, but not making an effort to mend that bond or facilitate a new one.

Just, an irreparably broken bond over something that was all meant to be fun and games.

But also; Dew never repeating the same mistake of walking away and not talking things through, further hammering in the idea that he grew and moved on and has repaired his ability to trust... just not them.

I dunno, I was sitting here and went, "Yeah, that'd be neat." and here we are.

[solomonomenon]

skz expectations in 2025

⚠️ for entertainment purposes only *based on tarot

𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣

career: he's ready to break some rules. he wants to do things his own way and break out of anything that feels too strict or traditional. staying true to what he believes in is his priority, even if it means fighting for it.

love/sex: he's in full flirting mode and just wants to have fun without anything serious. he wants to test the limits of his charm and see how many women he can seduce.

𝙡𝙚𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬

career: he's still unsure about the direction he wants to take. this year, he's hoping for clarity as he explores his options, whether that's deciding on a music style or stepping into a new territory.

love/sex: he’s focused on work and himself. If he's in a relationship, it’s not looking good, as his priorities are elsewhere.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙞𝙣

career: collaboration is his focus, working with some of the producers he admires, featuring artists in his songs or maybe being a producer for other groups. he expects to work with a lot of people this year.

love/sex: he doesn't really looking for love. similar to lee know, this year he's focusing solely on himself. though he has a slight urge to challenge social norms, he’s still holding back.

𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙣

career: he needs things to slow down a little. he’s stepping back to rest, reflect, and recharge. he doesn't have anything big on his mind, he’s taking the time to figure out what he wants next.

love/sex: it’s time for stability. he’s seeking a grounded, practical relationship, leaving behind dreaminess and unrealistic expectations.

𝙝𝙖𝙣

career: he’s in exploration mode, experimenting, learning, and finding inspiration. creativity is his main focus as he sharpens his skills and tries out new ideas.

love/sex: everything is about here and now. if he's in a relationship, he doesn't care what will be in the distant future, he's only want to live in the moment. he's turning a blind eye to every differences they both possess and I think it's including gender and sexual orientation.

𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙭

career: he's focused on building his skills and laying the groundwork for his future. every choice is about practicality and stability. he's planting seeds and working toward long-term success.

love/sex: his focus is mainly on work so he's trying to find a nice balance between the two. he doesn't have much expectation on romance so his love life might not see much progress this year.

𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙢𝙞𝙣

career: he’s walking away from something that no longer makes him happy, a project, some work ethics, or maybe some music styles. he’s ready to move on and search for something more fulfilling. his goal is clear and he's making his way toward that.

love/sex: he just wants to fall so deeply in love that he can't escape it. he craves passion and emotional depth, where love and sex are perfectly in sync. it seems like he's had his share of purely physical sex this past year, and now he's longing for something genuinely meaningful.

𝙟𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣

career: he's focusing on his emotions and learning how to manage them without letting them get in the way. he struggled with balance in the past, but this year, he aims to regain control so he can give his full effort at work.

love/sex: he hasn’t figured out what he truly needs yet. it’s all fun and games for now, with no deep or serious relationships in sight. he just wants to stay carefree and explore as much as possible.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[aureatescars]

Sasha doesn't even notice he's making a face until Leon calls him out on it. Then, he sighs and makes an effort to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. "It's been an eventful day," he says, trying and failing not to sound too defensive. "I forgot to take the last one when I was supposed to." Which at this point was several hours ago. He shifts in his seat, sinking a little lower. He's not looking at Leon, but rather keeping his eyes on the road.

He's been bad about taking the pain medication when needed during his time at the hospital, more often than not preferring pain over the overall more stark numbness that came with the moment the painkillers take effect, and they've argued about this back at the hospital more than once. Admittedly, they've argued about quite a lot of things during their time together. Leon does have a way of getting under his skin, Sasha was made aware of that from the moment they met.

However, Sasha is not trying to pick a fight here and neither is Leon, that much Sasha can discern from the genuine concern that underlies his offer. So, Sasha forgoes any deflection that sits on the tip of his tongue and then nods. The thought of going maybe another few hours without something to at least alleviate the discomfort not something he wants to entertain after everything he's been through today; that they have been through. Leon shouldn't have to deal with him being irritated by something easily avoidable.

An odd sense of warmth overcomes him at the thought that Leon cares enough to ask where previously it's only ever been a source of annoyance for Sasha. It's closely followed by the awareness that Leon knows him well enough to notice things like this now, however, Sasha isn't entirely sure what to make of that just yet. But with Leon constantly reminding him that it's alright to rely on him — that it's mandatory even for all of this to work in the first place — Sasha's finally inclined to believe him.

So, he folds and casts his senseless pride aside. "But yeah... that's probably a good idea."

It's then that he turns to look at Leon, studying his profile for a moment. He still isn't entirely certain how he feels about everything that has happened today, or how he'll ever repay Leon for all he has done and the fact that he is willing to put up with everything Sasha's thrown at him, consciously or not.

Sasha ultimately looks back out the window, thinking back to the first time they met. He inspects the way Leon's entire demeanor made his blood boil back then and how everything he found aggravating has become something of an endearing quality instead. His snark, his attitude and smile, his way of pushing Sasha where he really doesn't want to go. He turns it all over in his head, inspects it from every angle. He doesn't yet dare to hold all he is feeling about it up to the light. But there is no denying Leon's changed him in the short time they've known eachother and Sasha can't help but compare him to the only other person that ever truly challenged him in this way...

He ends up smiling at the memory of her and that is maybe the biggest surprise of all. For the first time in forever his heart doesn't ache with that same loneliness he felt each time a stray thought led him back to the memory of her.

She would have liked you. He thinks quietly to himself.

The smile on his face doesn't fade until they reach their destination. When Leon goes to fetch his wheelchair Sasha's gaze is drawn to the horizon where dark clouds are gathering. It's still too warm for snow to start falling anytime soon, even higher up as they are in this region, which likely means that they're in for some heavy rain later in the evening. He'd rather be back at the cabin by the time it starts.

Leon brings him the chair and a bottle of water alongside the promised painkillers. Sasha takes them and with that they're off to the store. Sasha glances up at Leon when he sees him shiver from the corner of his eye. "We should get you some warmer clothes," he says as he takes in the way Leon is ducking into his sweater as the wind picks up around them, pulling the too long sleeves over his hands. It almost strikes him as cute how he is drowning in Sasha's sweater. "We're not due for it just yet, but winter hits hard and sudden around here."

"As long as you make up your mind about it before we leave the grocery store." Sasha answers at Leon's request to give him some time to think on what he wants Sasha to make for him. Sasha is also already going through a list of possible dishes for the next few days in his mind, making a mental note to stock up on quite a few things in bulk so that they don't have to make too many trips back into town just because he suddenly decided he wants to spend his time at the cabin rekindling his long abandoned interest in cooking.

Despite his overall lighter mood and the fact that Leon, too, seems to start enjoying their little shopping trip more and more now that the things with Mikael have been smoothed out, Sasha can't help the fact that he is already feeling the strain of exertion from wheeling himself around the store, going back and forth for one thing or another. He is trying to keep it under wraps most of the time, but his fingers clench a little tighter around the handles of his wheels and he tries to shift where he is seated in the wheelchair to alleviate some pressure and ease some of the pain in his back.

He should have brought his painkillers with him, but he didn't think to grab them earlier. So, he is left with a bit of a pinched expression by the time they make their way outside again. Admittedly, it eases when Leon makes a ligthearted comment about how quickly things spread through the grapevine around these parts. "Well, you just casually made a deal to buy a house in the middle of the only hardware store in town just so you can get your way of renovating it." Sasha says, still baffled by the prospect and therefore unable to keep the fondness from his tone entirely. "The shopkeeper probably figures it's best to stay on your good side, given that you're ready to spend a lot of money on a whim."

Sasha looks up at Leon once they're done loading the car with all of their things and the only thing lef to do is getting Sasha out of the wheelchair and into the passenger's seat. For a rather embarrassingly long moment he can't help but take in the expression on Leon's face, the smile playing around his lips and the relaxed posture now make him look far less troubled than he did after their mishap at the lake earlier. Sasha decides he likes this far more than the dark and faraway look that seemed to dull the color of Leon's eyes. The shadows beneath them are still there and from what he's gathered of Leon's past so far he's almost certain they'll never fade entirely, but the hard lines of his face have softened considerably. And frankly, this thought fills him with a confusing amount of relief.

But once it becomes apparent to both of them that Sasha is quite blatantly staring at Leon Sasha shakes his head and makes to pull himself up and out of the wheelchair to stand. His face briefly scrunches up as a flicker of pain turns to a rather sudden throb of it, but when Leon steps in to steady him Sasha finds himself breathe easier the moment Leon's hand alights on his arm.

"Thank you." Sasha says with a brush of his own hand against Leon's, and hopes that it conveys at least a fraction of what everything that just happened in the store means to him. He knows Leon will want to brush his gratitude off, but it wouldn't feel right if he didn't at least say something.

He leaves it at that however and finally they get him back into the car. It's a blessing that despite the persistent pain he is able to at least keep himself standing on his own, which makes the process that much easier.

"It's down this road and to the right." Sasha says just in case Leon hasn't quite memorized the overall layout of the town just yet.

[1moreff-creator]

New Year's themed ask: What would our beloved classes be doing to celebrate the new year? (I mainly care about DRDT and P:EG, but feel free include mainline games and/or the Another Duology if you want!)

Happy New Year's! (again lol) Let's celebrate the start of 2025 with our favorite killing game blorbos! In particular, I'll be taking the casts of the four fangans I've been most invested in lately; Despair Time, Eden's Garden, One Shot, and Tetro Pink! (Sorry mainline, Another duology and Heartless Deceit, it's been a while since I've thought about those :() This will include both wholesomeness and sadness as appropriate, so get ready for anything!

Minor spoilers for all the fangans mentioned in their respective sections.

By the way, I apologize in advance if a lot of them are just "spends it with family/friends", sometimes I can't think of anything actually interesting to say :v

Danganronpa: Despair Time

Ace: Spends the day with his family, and pretends not to be as scared of firework noises as he is.

Arei: Spends the entire day with her friends (or "friends" while she was in high school, depending on who you ask).

Arturo: Doesn't celebrate, but does keep track of what various celebrities do for the holiday.

Charles: Just a get-together with family. He goes to bed as soon after 12:00 AM as possible.

David: Posts something motivational on social media, sometimes does a themed TEDTalk. Then proceeds to spend the entire rest of his day in bed.

Eden: Celebrates her birthday (31st December!) late into the day with all her friends and family, only to switch to celebrating New Year's the moment 12:00 AM arrives. Basically one long birthday party :D

Hu: Depends on the year. Sometimes she enjoys just chilling with her family, sometimes she accompanies her friends to parties to make sure no one gets hurt. Designated driver when said friends drink alcohol, as she likes to feel reliable.

J: Celebrates with Ryan... mostly the fact that Mariabella is Somewhere Else for the day. Also goes out with friends sometimes.

Levi: Doesn't celebrate, and usually doesn't even notice the new year's coming up until he's woken up by fireworks the day of.

Min: She treats it like any other day, though maybe with an extra family visit. Every year, it takes convincing to get her to stay awake until 12:00.

Nico: Spends it at animal shelters, helping any animals who might get scared of fireworks.

Rose: Spends it with her family, and sleeps through most of it. Takes a lot effort from her siblings for her to stay awake at 12:00 AM to see the change in year.

Teruko: Used to celebrate with her brother, but doesn't bother to celebrate at all too much anymore. She mainly just spends the day trying to get as far away from any fireworks as possible (far too dangerous for her luck).

Veronika: Christmas and new year's themed horror marathon! She occasionally manages to drag someone into it with her, but it's not necessary for her.

Xander: Volunteer work with friends during the 31st, and a visit to his family's graves at some point during the 1st.

Whit: Spends the day with friends, but always cooks dinner at home, usually eating alone since his father's usually overseas. He always makes sure to save some food for his mom, though :)

MonoTV: Treats itself to some of its favorite movies of the year. By which I mean it eats the CDs of said movies.

Mai: Hangs out with both friends and family in a way that makes everyone happy. Or, well, she used to, anyways.

Project: Eden's Garden

Cassidy: New Year's charity stream marathon that always starts a few days before and lasts for a few days after the turn of the year. She streams even through the clock hitting 12:00 in her timezone.

Damon: He prefers to ignore the holiday, but his family gets together so he can't exactly manage it. Still studies for a large part of the day though.

Desmond: Takes it a bit easier on the training for the day, but otherwise doesn't alter his routine too much.

Diana: Hangs out with her friends for a good chunk of the day, and particularly enjoys doing their makeup for any party later in the night.

Eloise: Spends the day with her sisters and mother.

Eva: Doesn't celebrate, and probably spends it studying one subject or another.

Grace: Doesn't celebrate, but enjoys watching the fireworks.

Ingrid: Spends the day with her family.

Jean: Usually out at sea, so he celebrates with his crew, drinking and playing around all night.

Jett: Parties hard with his friends all through the night.

Kai: Other than posting a bunch on social media, he doesn't really go out much, and prefers to spend the day with family.

Mark: Doesn't celebrate, but he does post some kind of celebratory post as Mayhem on social media.

Toshiko: Sends postcards to all her family and likes watching firework displays.

Ulysses: Doesn't celebrate, but his museum offers discounts on New Year's, so there's that.

Wenona: Only celebrates in whatever way benefits her business, as long as it doesn't involve making a public appearance. This usually means she doesn't do jack shit.

Wolfgang: Doesn't celebrate, but he's willing to be designated driver if some of his friends want to party.

Tozu: Practices his evil laugh for hours.

Mara: Puts up with Tozu practicing his evil laugh for hours.

Cara: Uh... she's dead chat I don't think she can celebrate.

Sorry a lot of them are just "they don't do anything" but that's the vibes I get from these people T_T

Danganronpa: One Shot

Aidan: Celebrates Old Year's (read as: doesn't do anything special).

Antonia: Watches the fireworks in Vegas with her sister.

Cass: Doesn't really celebrate unless someone close to them celebrates.

Davis: Spends it with his family at home.

Ellis: Party all night long! There's only a 50/50 chance she actually remembers the hour turning to 12:00 after getting blackout drunk.

Grace: Doesn't celebrate, as they consider it a waste of time.

Harper: Does volunteer work around ver community, but ve's always with ver family when the year turns.

Jeff: Doesn't really do anything, but depending where they are, he might stay up to watch some fireworks.

Kennedy: Looks at several large scale New Year's celebrations, looking for secret symbols in firework displays. So far, she's made the connection between the color red, cacti, and the government of Namibia. He's looking into what that could possibly mean, believing to have connected the dots (author's note: she hasn't connected shit).

Mark: [INFORMATION UNAVAILABLE]

Noah: Gigantic party with his frat. He ends up being the only one without a hangover because of his immunity to it.

Paris: Other than some kind of celebratory post on social media, she goes to the biggest party she can to collect all the gossip she can manage.

Robert: Does exactly what the majority of his demographic does, which generally just involves a family get-together.

Taylor: Stays home with their family, and usually goes to bed soon after 12:00.

Vanessa: She spends it with either her family or her friends, and generally has a blast.

Vivi: Generally takes the night shift at her hospital, since she doesn't care as much about the New Year's as her colleagues.

Monoquin: Indulges in his secret pastime: cosplaying Hope's Peak students. He is a mannequin running a killing game implied to be obsessed with Hope's Peak, after all.

Tetro Danganronpa Pink

I'm gonna list this ones by last name instead of first name because that's how I refer to them in my head and you're gonna deal with it >:v

Chiba: Spends it with her family. Or in the hospital.

Hama: Finalizes rituals to expunge all demons from the year as it comes to its end. This involves an obnoxious amount of salt.

Harada: Spends the day in animal shelters, taking care of any animals disturbed by the fireworks.

Hasegawa: Spends a quiet evening with his mother and sister, sends postcards to his father and his father's girlfriend.

Hayashi: Spends it with her parents, it's surprisingly wholesome.

Hiroaki: Parties a lot with his friends, and sometimes sends postcards to his parents when he remembers to do it.

Isono: New Year's stream!!!

Kamimura: Doesn't celebrate, but does send a postcard to his aunt.

Ojima: Hangs out with his brothers, but doesn't do anything too big.

Okazaki: Offers discounts on her unlicensed gender-affirming surgery, sends ominous postcards to anyone she wants to scare, looks at fireworks and commits some other kind of crime.

Sasaki: Spends it with friends, toasts at midnight with her family.

Tamba: Spends the day with her family.

Tsuno: Volunteer work so no one has a bad New Year's. Sends postcards to everyone she feels would appreciate one.

Wada: Watching Isono's stream.

Watari: Stays with her family until 12:00, and then immediately goes to party after that.

Yanagi: Spends it with his family.

Monomoko: Finds no meaning in the human tradition, so it doesn't do anything special.

I'm not doing the researchers I haven't read staffside sorry :(

-

Well, I hope that got you in the New Year's mood (it's still the 31st in my timezone at least)! Thanks for the ask, and happy New Year's everyone!!! Here's to a happy 2025!

[melshifting]

～S/O extras for your script! 𐙚

• [001] You both know how to balance between spending time together and when to remain individual, ensuring that your bond feels fresh and not suffocating.

• [002] You always feel wanted; whether through subtle gestures, glances or spontaneous romantic moments, there's no doubt about how your partner feels about you.

• [003] Your partner's compliments are neither generic nor obligatory. Each is so specific and sincere that it makes you feel truly seen and appreciated.

• [004] Your S/O never compares you to anyone else, making you feel like the only person who matters; they're totally focused on you only.

• [005] They never make you feel like you are asking for too much, even if your desires are unusual or require some effort. They meet your needs with enthusiasm and willingness to make you happy.

• [006] Your S/O naturally avoids doing anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or insecure, even unintentionally.

• [007] They seem to have an inexhaustible reserve of patience for your pet peeves, frustrations, or bad days, always responding with love and understanding rather than irritation.

• [008] Even in a room full of people, their eyes always find you first - there is an undeniable attraction that draws them directly to you, wherever you are.

• [009] When something in your relationship doesn't work out, they take the necessary responsibility without deflecting blame, showing maturity rather than spite.

• [010] Your S/O never tries to turn you into someone else. Instead, they fall more in love with you for the things that make you unique.

• [011] They always validate your feelings, and never belittle or despise them, even if sometimes they don't fully understand them.

• [012] They never allow the opinion of others to cloud their view of you, including their friends and family if that were the case.

• [013] No one else could captivate them like you - they're not physically/literally capable of looking at anyone in the same way.

• [014] When they tell you 'I love you', it is not just a statement, but an unbreakable vow. Not only do they love you, but they have a devotion that words can't explain.

• [015] They will never let you go to sleep upset. Even if you have to stay up all night to work things out, they can't rest until things are right between you.

• [016] They don't just want you, they need you, in an almost primal way - as if the thought of being apart for too long physically hurts them.

────୨ৎ────

[ihfmseatsoch]

Big bro Daisuke……

big bro daisuke....... 🤭 i dont think this was even a request but i threw together a fic anyway -3-

warning: incest, suggestive

word count: 1.5k

fem!reader

(yes the fact that youre both playing smash bros is a sneaky little joke. because. um. youre smashing your bro. 😁 okay now clap and double over in laughter for me)

—

Daisuke acts more like an annoying little brother, rather than the eldest.

Of course, that didn't hinder your relationship with him. In fact, being able to be immature and dumb with him brought you closer together. Whether it be attempting (and failing) a kickflip competition that got him sent to the ER for a broken arm, or baking brownies with a concerning lack of the required ingredients as quietly as you could at 2:00 AM, you were attached at the hip.

Sometimes quite literally, when you'd lay beside eachother on his bed, playing Super Smash Bros on your original Wii that shockingly hasn't killed itself from old age.

Daisuke snickered to himself as he glanced over at you, his hand clenched around the remote. He was sitting upright in his bed, a pillow propped up against his back. On the screen, his Kirby proceeded to kick your Peach’s ass.

"No fuckin' fair, Dai," You whine childishly, "You never even give me a pity win." You watch yourself die in-game for the fifth time. It wasn't his fault he was incredibly lucky at games of all kinds; video, board, whatever it may be. It pissed you off to no end sometimes.

Daisuke laughed obnoxiously, a self-satisfied smile on his face. He was gloating over your losses, as per usual. "Pity win?" he teased, "Maybe I would give you wins if you were actually, y'know, good at this."

"You cheat." You accuse him, as many other have time and time again. It was ridiculous how he won EVERYTHING. "You're a cheater and a liar and a fiend."

He let out an exaggerated gasp, feigning offense. He made a show of placing a hand over his chest. "I never cheat!" he lied through his teeth, "I just happen to be the most natural, talented gaming prodigy... ever."

"Whatever." You nudge your leg against his, roughly. You cross your arms and throw your own controller across the bed, turning your head away for even more dramatic effect. "You don't love me enough to let your sweet, cute, and exceptionally beautiful little sister win. For shame, Dai."

Daisuke chuckled at your display. He leaned in, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you into a tight embrace. "Awww, come on, you know I love 'ya." He giggled, ruffling your hair. "But sorry, not sorry. No easy wins for you. I gotta keep my winning streak going, y'know?"

You squirm in his grasp, kicking your legs and trying to shove him off, but he's surprisingly strong, given his lanky figure. "Nooo, cheaters don't get hugs!" You grunt and struggle to worm away, although you're not exactly putting much genuine effort into it. You secretly don't want him to let go at all.

Your complaints only cause him to squeeze you tighter, trapping you against his chest, restraining your flailing limbs and preventing your escape. He snickered at your fruitless attempts. "Sounds like someone's just a sore looosseerrr." Daisuke taunted.

He tried to ignore the way your ass keeps pressing against his crotch, grinding and writhing... on his life he tried, but he's only a man. A young one, at that, so he doesn't exactly possess the willpower to contain himself. "You're so mean. Just plain cruel." You pout, finally giving up as your body goes lax in his arms.

Daisuke tries to focus on anything but the way your body feels against his. It's hard to ignore, when he can feel his pants start to get just a teensy bit tighter. He tries to play it off cool, pretending like he doesn't feel it at all. "I'm just taking my role as the big brother seriously. Gotta show you who's in charge." he shifted a little, subtly moving you to a more... comfortable position. Away from his boner, which he popped embarrassingly quick. Damned hormones, always ruining his life.

The new position doesn't exactly help him, because you still feel something hard bump into your backside, and you curiously feel around for whatever it was. "Dude, I think the remote is literally under my ass right now." You comment, inconspicuously. Daisuke wants to melt, evaporate, rain down from the clouds, and evaporate again.

"N-No, it's just, uhhh- umm–" He failed miserably to come up with a decent lie, a deep blush rapidly spreading across his face. How does one get themselves out of a situation like this? Then again, not many brothers get hard from their own sister. Right? He doesn't want to dwell on the thought.

How does one get themselves out of a situation like this? Then again, not many brothers get hard from their own sister. Right? He doesn't want to dwell on the thought. Daisuke tenses when your hand finds it's way to his dick, and he mentally scolds himself for not wearing boxers under his sweatpants, but he didn't exactly think this would happen today.

You immediately notice it's unusual texture, shape, and size–

You whip your head around, and stop dead in your tracks at what you see.

Then, you promptly shriek and back away from your brother. And his hard-on.

All the blood left his face. He was horrified. Absolutely mortified. "W– Wait! Listen, I can explain–!" he frantically tried to fix this situation, his voice cracking a bit more than normal.

"Ewww, how did that even happen?" You cover your face so you don't have to make eye contact with the tent in his pants any longer. Although, you can't deny the hint of... morbid curiosity you feel. From what you felt, it wasn't small, but not too big, either. Maybe slightly above average. Jesus, you just grabbed your brother's cock on accident, and now you're mentally calculating it's exact width and circumference. What the fuck.

Daisuke's face was burning, humiliation settling over his entire being. "I-I don't know, it just happens sometimes! I can't control it, I swear!" He groaned, desperately tried to defend himself, although he could barely speak coherently. He was internally screaming how he's the worst brother, just the worst. He'd never live this down, even in death.

Suddenly, it all clicks together in your mind.

"Oh my god," You mouth gapes as you move your hands away from your face, "Was it because of me?"

What a detective you are.

"N-no! No! Absolutely not!" He exclaims, furiously shaking his head. He's a horrible liar. A very horrible liar. And he knew it. There was no point trying to deny it. He'd already dug his own grave.

You roll your eyes, unconvinced.

"Uh huh, okay." Seeing him so red and ashamed makes you feel a bit of pity towards him. He's barely out of his teens, of course he's not gonna be able to control the random increase in blood flow to his dick. With a sigh, you scoot back towards him, granting your brother some mercy. "Look, hey, it's fine. I'm not, like, never going to speak to you again."

Daisuke looked up at you with such a guilty and pitiful expression. He was silently praying and begging you to just, forget this whole experience happened. He looked just like a sad, kicked puppy. He sheepishly spoke up, his voice timid and quiet. "So... you're not... mad at me? Or grossed out?"

"Ehh... maybe a little grossed out. But no, I'm not mad." You shrug. To be honest, you're barely grossed out anymore. Maybe it's your own hormones talking, but you can't help but find yourself... intrigued. Like you want to question why exactly his body reacted the way it did. Was he into you? Boys don't get hard from girls they don't like.

And it's not like you haven't thought he's attractive once or twice. Or fifty times.

"O– Okay, a little grossed out is better than completely grossed out..." He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. Noticing the look on your face, like you're deep in thought, he spoke up, still looking incredibly bashful. "Why... why are you looking at me like that?"

"...I could help you out." The words leave your mouth before you can think twice. You just pray you're not making this moment even worse. "If you wanted me to."

Your offer was like a complete surprise slap to the face. Daisuke looked like his brain has just short circuited and exploded. He blinked, dumbfounded. Had he heard you right? He looked flustered, and confused. All he could mutter out was, "W-what— what do you mean?"

"I mean... must be annoying to just... get hard out of nowhere, yeah? I'm just saying that... whenever it happens, you could maybe come to me, and..." You grow frustrated trying to explain yourself in a way that sounds PG-13. "Look, I'm just trying to be an ever so thoughtful and considerate sister, here."

Daisuke's mind was in a state of near paralysis. He was trying to process what you were suggesting to him, the most embarrassing, yet tempting idea that ever entered his mind. After a while of fumbling, he was finally able to meekly utter, "S-So... you're saying, I can ask you... y'know... to help me out? Whenever?"

It was absurd, the idea of doing things like that with his blood relative. Yet the thoughts racing through his dirty mind only served to make the tent in his pants that he's been trying so hard to conceal grow more uncomfortable.

"Yeah. Whenever." You lean in, gently moving his hands aside so you can get a good look at his... problem, a bead of precum already dampening the fabric.

"Including right now, if you're down."

[velvetvexations]

As a nonbinary person my biggest problem with enby has always been the fact that it's not ever felt like a word. It's quite literally just saying nb out loud but written out. It's never felt like a real identifier. For as much as the shitty I'm just a girl jokes or saturdays are for the boys sayings are like. Scuffed and bad. The words actually sound like they fit and flow in the sentences. Saying I'm gonna go hang out with the enbies later doesn't sound like a word. It sounds like I'm saying an abbreviation in place of a word. Because that's what it is at the end of the day. It never stopped being just an abbreviation of nonbinary but longer this time and it kinda pisses me off that it's treated like a really Good word. It isn't infantilising or anything bc tbh. It's not any more or less mature than someone just saying the damn letters out loud, but it sure as fuck lacks any sense of formality. People can say they're an enby all they want but it doesn't feel like an identifier if I called myself one, it feels like a descriptor. I think nonbinary people deserve a word for themselves that isn't just. The term for their identity but shortened and then made long again. Especially considering that we don't exactly refer to men and women as ems and doubleyous do we. It's petty, but it keeps me from liking it all the same. If a term that took absolutely Zero Effort to come up with is something that a Big group of who it was supposed to describe really don't fucking like, I dont think it's that big of a deal to put in a little more legwork to make something different

That's an interesting perspective. I guess every word needs an origin?

Idk maybe it would be easier if we made some distinction between internal/personal gender (how you conceptualize yourself) and external/social gender (how you are gendered and treated by others) cis people and post transition trans people usually have an internal gender and an External gender that somewhat match. Pre transition trans people have mismatched internal and external genders, which can produce dysphoria. I personally don't have much of an internal gender at all, but my external gender is "woman" based on presentation and socialization. When i say "trans women are seen as men" what I actually mean is "non-passing trans women are perceived and treated as men by transphobes, a role which has a very narrow set expectations and requirements in order to fully access its privileges, otherwise they get the same treatment as all queer/"failed" men, which is different from the experiences of people gendered externally as women in a lot of complex ways." there's no universal experience of gender and no such thing as a "real" man or woman, that's what "gender is a social construct" MEANS. But still! Our society treats men/boys different than women/girls. And the way people are treated affects how they behave! It's not misgendering anyone to point out and analyze those differences, it's just sociology and gender theory. It can be trans inclusive if you're not an idiot.

Post-transition trans people still generally risk discovery even if they're completely stealth. Besides that, I think it's too close to saying one is that gender also if we split it between the two, since why would one take precedence over the other when gender is fake either way? Identity is personal and people who tell you you're wrong about your identity are just incorrect, it's really simple.

someone i see often in transmisogyny discourse (not gonna drop the user) liked a post saying "intersexism isn't real and it's transmisogyny to say it is", unliked it and denied it when it was brought up to them, and is now pretending it didn't happen. what do you even do about that

I have no idea who you're talking about, but that's bad, I guess?

The ‘transmasc headcannons are all self indulgent, illogical and antifeminist. but transfem headcannons are all intelectual, narratively complex, feminist praxis’ thing reminds me of the ‘yaoi is all self indulgent, illogical and antifeminist. but yuri is all intelectual, narratively complex, feminist praxis’ thing (idk how common it is in fandoms that aren’t homestuck (cus istg that fucking fandom))

it's so deeply annoying

ngl I've been repeating "fellas, is it transphobic to admit that transphobes are transphobic?" ever since you said it (or at least something close to it? I don't remember if this is a direct quote or paraphrase because I was very tired that day) in one of the ask compilations because it sums up the whole thing so succinctly and also just feels good to say

Sorry about all the assclowns who are so eager to assert their bone-deep conviction that yes it totally is -__-;;

we live in a bad timeline

For the "trans-inclusive" cis girls who still insist "transmascs are BETRAYING WOMANHOOD" -

Riiiight...so, COMPLETELY irrelevant question, but how did you and your friends feel about the weird girl in middle and high school? You know, the anime fan with the punk clothes and dyed hair? Started hanging out more with boys than girls around the middle of the year? You DID extend the "bonds of sisterhood" to her too, didn't you?

No? You called her a traitor and a freak too? Even before she started hanging out more with the boys, you thought she was just being a holier-than-thou snob because she wasn't interested in the topics usually considered "girl talk"?

Yeah, I can't imagine why she would have felt more comfortable with the boys either...truly a mystery...yeah she really did totally betray you...yep...

women throw around "pickme" like it's the worst possible thing to be but most pickmes have a pretty good reason for being pickmes and women who complain about them should do some introspection

I think Androhomophobia is the word for MLMs speaking on their unique oppression!

noted!

"Why do trans men need a special word" why do trans women need a special word 🎤 do you just consider mens experiences the default 🤔

for transfem TRFs: because men is what trans women are transitioning away from so it literally was the default for them and they have a hard time understanding the idea that some people want the thing they don't want and don't want the thing they want

for transmasc TRFs: because of course they want to think they're the alpha dogs society revolves around they're all misogynists

As someone who wasn’t on tumblr when that “kill all transmascs” post was going around, what was that about?

I reeeeally hope there’s some context that I’m missing and it wasn’t just one of those “kill all men” jokes from 2012 with “trans” inserted into it.

Also, it’s really disheartening to see this kind of behavior from people who you would otherwise trust.

if it's older than this past March I wasn't around either but there was a post going around just a couple weeks ago

As a nonbinary person: the entire enby thing could be fixed if we just could have terminology without it being relentlessly mocked.

Some people are going to be uncomfortable with enby because it sounds similar to baby and that can feel infantilizing. Some people will not think it’s infantilizing. Some people will not care. This is normal. I think enban is a good term even if enby wasn’t made to be used similarly to boy and girl. I think more explicitly nonbinary terms are good. I want to have more terms to describe myself. Only having enby is annoying.

Yeah like...not having the infrastructure of entrenched and codified language is difficult.

I think there's a degree to which this sort of thing is "spreading", insofar as I see an uptick in random cis people making flippant transandrophobic jokes and then acting like it's antifeminist to disagree. HOWEVER, I also think the hardcore TRFs' views are escalating over time to the point that when their posts break containment they often sound so obviously fucked up that people who aren't as discourse-poisoned are noticing it, rather than just blindly boosting like "Trans rights, I guess!".

the legacy of trans radical feminism: making cis people a little more transphobic

did that one op imply trans men can all just girlmode like its no big deal and takes no effort. like i do girlmode at work but that entails shaving daily and trying to keep my voice high despite having dropped like two octaves.

i feel like all that saves the façade is that my coworkers have known me since pre-T plus my tits are gigantic

he did imply that!

I think all the transmascs on here talking about how being seen as a girl is a privilege should try being a girl not wearing a bra. Or binding. Just letting them hang out. It's amazing how poorly you'll get treated. Bonus points if you're also obviously autistic and generally GNC at the same time

(On that note I think there should be more of a movement for people with boobs to not have to wear a bra because they are so uncomfortable for me and make me extremely dysphoric and I'm sure I can't be the only one-)

That used to be a feminist thing but it seems like everyone retreated from that issue.

What are your thoughts on the idea that TERFs genuinely do hate men the most and the only reason they specifically target trans women is because they see them as men that are "trying to sneak into womens spaces"? I think it makes sense on the basis that they treat trans women badly but sometimes ally with cis men who also hate us because those men aren't "explicitly trying to trick them"

I mean yeah exactly lol TERFs see trans women as men in the middle of actively doing a misogyny or trying to perform a fetish in front of them

[strikexlightning]

Ryan Howard x Male Reader

not a request

notes: Happy New Year :D my next fic is also Ryan, but I think I might start one for Gabe because I watched an episode he was in and I need him very badly, so be prepared for that

cws: takes place during Company Picnic (5x28), exhibitionism, almost getting caught, the reader and Ryan are friends/coworkers with benefits

You grin, feeling the nice hot sun on you. It was the day for the Dunder Mifflin company picnic, and you were all for it. It was super fun to just fuck around for a day without any real responsibility. Not that you usually got any work done in the office anyway, but still.

Dwight had you standing next to Ryan during the volleyball game, which you were happy about. He didn't look like he really wanted to be playing, constantly checking his phone, but he half-smiled at you when you came up next to him. You had sex with each other on pretty much a regular basis, and you would consider him a friend but he gives you the same attitude he gives everyone else you work with, so you're not sure where your sorta-friendship stands.

The times you hooked up were mostly after going out for drinks, but there were a few times that he pulled you off somewhere during work to have sex. He liked the thrill of being caught, apparently.

You watched as he kept missing the ball, not even going for it and actively dodging it instead so he could text. You were okay at volleyball, not amazing but good enough to not completely embarrass yourself. The sun was bearing down on you, and running around playing sports was a tiresome activity, obviously.

You take a second to wipe your face, lifting your shirt to wipe the sweat from your forehead. When you lower it, you notice Ryan staring at you, but your gaze quickly goes from him to the ball being spiked right into his head. You cover your mouth, trying to stop yourself from laughing as you watch him yell something to the person on the other side of the net.

Dwight swaps him out with someone, yelling about Ryan doing absolutely nothing, so the man walks off to find some shade. You manage to get a point for your team and people start cheering, Andy giving you a high five. You genuinely start getting into the competitiveness of the game, putting in more effort once you get into it.

At some point even Dwight praises you, it's very vague and sounds threatening, but you appreciate the acknowledgement. After the heat starts to become too overbearing on you, you take a break, having Dwight switch you with someone else. You catch your breath, fanning yourself with your hand, which doesn't do much, so you grab something to drink, taking a sip and then holding the cold water bottle against your forehead.

Spotting Ryan, you go over to him with a greeting and he gives you a nod, not looking up from his phone. You silently stand next to him, watching everyone else play. It looks like the Scranton team is doing decent, which surprises you, honestly. Your arms start to feel a little sore, and you stretch them, lifting them above your head. Your shirt rides up a little bit, and you notice Ryan eyeing you as you lower your arms.

“Do you wanna ditch this whole thing?” He asks, and you automatically know what he means. You're not sure if you really want to, since there's not really anywhere to get some privacy, but the look in Ryan's eyes says he's fully willing to beg you.

“Mmmm…okay.” You say finally.

The two of you spend almost 20 minutes looking for a place that isn't in anyone's line of sight, and every time you find a place, someone comes wandering in.

By the time you find a spot, one that's just enough privacy to not get you arrested, the both of you are desperate. As your hands run over Ryan's body underneath his shirt, he kisses your jaw and neck, almost feverishly. You hold him by his hips, sort of pinning him up against the wall of the back of a building you had to walk all the way to. He bucks his hips up towards yours, already somewhat hard.

“Someone's needy, hm?” You say, laughing, letting him grind himself against you.

“You know I am.” He responds playfully. His head falls back against the wall, and he bites down on his bottom lip as he continues to grind against you.

You reach towards your belt and he instantly gets on his knees, doing it for you. He takes your hardening cock out, giving it a few strokes before pressing a kiss to the head. He licks along the underside before taking the whole thing in his mouth. He looks up at you as he bobs his head, and you put a hand in his hair. He releases a muffled moan, tongue swirling around the tip a few times.

You groan, push him down a little more and he takes it, swallowing you down to the base.

“Fuck, holy shit-” You stutter out, watching as he repeatedly takes your dick down his throat.

He pulls it out for a second to catch his breath.

“I've been practicing.” He says smugly before going back to it, not even bothering to try and stop the sounds coming from his mouth. Before you get too close, you pull yourself out of his mouth. He stands back up, pulling you closer.

You start to take his belt off and shove his pants down as he turns around, his hands bracing himself against the wall. You pull a small bottle of lube out of the pocket of your jeans before you push them back down. After the fourth time Ryan pulled you away from work to fuck, you decided to just start carrying it with you just in case.

He presses his forehead against the wall as you squeeze his ass, your growing erection pressing against him. Squeezing some lube out onto your fingers, his breath hitched as you slid one into him. You push in a second one, thrusting them in and out of him as he moans a little louder. As you pull them out, Ryan pushes himself back against you, silently begging you to fuck him. You laugh softly at his impatience and put some lube onto your hand, stroking yourself a few times before pressing the tip of your cock against his hole.

As you slide yourself in, he groans, his hands pushing harder against the wall. You start to move, grinding your hips into him a few times before pulling half way out and thrusting back in. Ryan squeezes his eyes shut as you fuck him, letting out moans and groans each time you thrust back into him.

You can tell he's trying to keep himself quiet, but it isn't very successful. That doesn't surprise you though, since he usually doesn't mind being caught. You just figure it's different since there are corporate people here.

You start to speed up, your cock throbbing inside of the man as you get closer and closer. His own bobs up and down, dripping and painfully hard, the head touching the wall every time you bury yourself back into him.

He lifts a hand to his mouth, biting down on it to muffle his moans, clearly having trouble keeping quiet. The two of you freeze, hearing footsteps near where you are. It sounds like they're walking towards the other direction, but to be safe, you stop. That's until Ryan pushes back against you a little, and you instinctively thrust into him again.

You hold his waist, starting to slowly fuck him. He cums without warning, groaning against his hand as it spills against the wall, his body shuddering.

He's squeezing tight around your cock, and it makes you groan softly. Neither of you care that there could be someone right there, you start to speed up again until you fall over the edge, delivering a few deep thrusts before finishing inside of him.

You stay inside him for a little bit as you both catch your breaths, until you hear more footsteps and pull yourself out quickly as the two of you rush to get your pants back up. Ryan hurriedly fixes his hair while you put your belt back on.

When whoever is walking comes around the corner, it's multiple people, part of the camera crew. You and Ryan both glance at each other.

“What, no. We were just taking a walk.” You say to the camera when they take you to the side to film a talking head. You weren't sure if you were convincing enough, but the look on the mic guy's face tells you that you weren't. Oh well.

[leoivys]

𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝒀𝑬𝑨𝑹'𝑺 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑭𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵 — 𝑱𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑫𝑫

– contents; fluff, a hint of angst and implied smut

– summary; spending new years with your childhood best friend with who you spent a night with

– word count; 1.2k

– a/n; This is rushed, late, and my first time writing smut. But happy (late) new year! ♡

Your friendship with Jason goes way back, even before he became the vigilante he is today. When you used to play in the garden of the Wayne Manor and always ended up getting a bit too rough, leaving your knees bruised and bloody before Alfred would fix them up for you. The young boy would sit by your side and hold your hand as he muttered butchered apologies – he wouldn't hurt you. It was never his intention.

The small frown of pure concern etched on his face every time you got hurt as he rushed to your side in order to help in any way he possibly could always give you a feeling of security.

He was always there for you like you were for him, earning titles like his most trusted associate in the militia, his closest friend before and after what happened to him in Arkham, his first time.

That night, when you promised no romantic attachments to each other – even after you saw a grown man who had missed so much of his life due to what he had to go through so vulnerable under you; reacting to your every touch, letting you taste the desperation on his tongue as he pulled you in a bruising kiss to muffle any sounds of weakness his mind was encouraging him to let out for you to hear. A man people have learned to fear in such a short period was writhing – no, begging, for you to not take your hands off him.

Where had his innocence gone? You couldn't help but wonder how this messy, broken person that was currently kneeling before your frame was the same one you grew up with, and God help him, for he was so far gone. His cold hands rested on your thighs, keeping them in place; his touch gentle against the softness of your skin in contrast to his rough one as he made his best efforts to impress you.

Jason took his time, his logic skills? Long forgotten. A faint smile tugged on his lips. He allowed himself to feel the taste of your ‘essence’ on his tongue overwhelm his senses – visibly shivering while he found himself mindlessly admiring you as much as each and every one of your pleasant reactions. Communication skills? Completely turned off, and you could tell when you noticed him mumble incoherent gibberish all in a pathetic attempt to beg.

You were brought back to the present when Jason's sigh of disappointment echoed in the emptiness of the room, another group of militia soldiers had lost their base to the one person he made a promise to kill – the Bat.

His expression grew tired. You could tell, regardless of the mask that he hid himself beneath and all the armor he used to protect his scars, you knew him that well. As soon as the fuzz of the mask's robotic effect faded, you spoke up, “I hope you follow along with the plans we have.”

Your intentions were clear; try to get Jason to cheer up a little, and the bare minimum was to at least help him get his mind off of everything he had going on. Although, your remark earned you a huff of air before his mask was lifted by the press of one button. “Alright… You're a pain, you know that?” He responded with a playful hint to his usually serious voice, a look of defeat settled in his expression.

In your books, that was a win.

It's funny seeing how people ignore the cold for the sake of getting the preparations ready for their guests or those who are lucky enough to expect family members to come back to spend their holidays back at home. The house filling up with chatter and laughter in every corner is a miracle not everyone had the chance to enjoy.

Sometimes life doesn't turn out exactly how you expect. The kind of thoughts that consumed your mind weren't anything other than what you had done in your course of life, leaving your vision clouded.

“You're uncharacteristically early.” Jason pointed out with a tinge of playfulness to his tone. He never had the difficulty of calling you out on your bullshit. New Year's Eve. You had arranged something casual, changing into another year and hoping for the best atop a rooftop where the big screen of the city's center was visible, and a champagne ready to be opened after the countdown and emptied into the two glasses he had brought along.

It wasn't long until the countdown had already begun, people's voices echoing in the city's filled streets along with yours harmonizing with Jason's rough one. The light of the bright screens brightened its surroundings, making the thin layer of snow shimmer in the darkness the midnight sky had to offer – a sparkle that reminded you of Jason's eyes, but you quickly snapped out of it.

His drunken smile was a sight for sore eyes, bearing all of his teeth like he used to when he was less broken – his little smile. Jason’s gaze seemed focused on every part of you, and at the same time, he looked so out of it. You couldn't feel even just a little grateful that the alcohol had gotten to his head and momentarily lost the mask he had grown such an attachment to, so much that he preferred it.

It was the same Jason under all the walls he had built up around himself when his the most important years of his life were snatched away from his shaky hands, the very same that cradled you after nightmares that left you heaving and searching for your sanity among the most vulnerable pieces of yourself, the ones that you held onto during the freezing nights like this to stabilize yourself upon the ice that had settled on the ground.

Jason, with his fucked up past – one of the few ones who had every right to be mad at the world and rough around the edges to the world for turning its back, yet you were his world and he chose to be gentle. You were his witness as a feather-like touch ran down your arm and made itself comfortable over your hand.

The scent of the bubbly drink on the tip of his tongue brought you back to the present. It was clear that he was lightheaded, but part of him was still aware of his surroundings. Well, he was anyway, until he rested his head on your shoulder without a single care in the world. “I love you.” He muttered, his breath coming out in a cloud of fog in contrast to the coldness of the world.

The words slip out easier than he could ever imagine, but he means it. This time was unlike any other time before. He wasn't comforting his best friend or hugging them goodbye because he was leaving for a mission. It was a confession and a drunken one at that.

Jason hadn't lost himself. “Happy New Year, Jay.” You muttered. A sharp sigh escaped him as he allowed himself to get overwhelmed by the feeling of your hand rushing through his hair.

A new year comes with new beginnings, and maybe this year can be better than what you expected.