#its so unfair holy shit

[cringefail-clown]

thinking bout hal and jake and how their interactions went in homestuck again. god, imagine having a best friend (who you also have a wild crush on) that youve known for years, talked to him about everything, from dumb shit to the deepest desires and insecurities youve ever had. then you decide to create an ai out of your own brain and suddenly its you whose got the short end of the stick and youre stuck, without a body, in a pair of glasses. and youd think, this fucking sucks, but at least i have my friends, right? but your friends dont think about you as "you" anymore. now you're just a program, ai created by the real deal to talk to them when he doesnt have time to do it.

and your best friend? he cant fucking stand you. he sees you only as an obstacle in his way to talk to the real you, but youre YOU too, right? all the parts are the same, the memories are the same, your feelings are the same, but youre not REAL YOU anymore. now youre just an annoyance they have to get through if they want to talk to the guy you were before and you still are.

god. id go fucking apeshit too.

[satellites-halo]

lol just got banned from Roblox for calling someone a nazi bc they said they hate jews. Good job Roblox moderation, you're so good at protecting minorities 😑

[latenightcravingz]

oh no...

thoughts about miguel before i go to bed because i have a sudden creative burst and i need to release it otherwise i'm going to implode, i just love him so much, you guys, it's actually painful

miguel tends to stare a lot. not in a creepy way that has you wanting to put a lock on your face, but the way that he does it just makes you melt. there's nothing more than pure adoration that he has for you, it makes you question a times what exactly is so special that gives his gaze the power to melt you into a puddle.

he usually stops though when you notice. when you ask him about it, he dismisses your claim with a flick of his wrist and a "ah, it's nothing" even though you know damn well that it's something. sometimes, when you two don't say anything, just staring into each other's eyes, you're rewarded with a sweet kiss.

miguel's also big (not just in that way because i know what you're thinking, you whore), it's rubbed into your face basically wherever you go at home. taking off your shoes and leaving at the door only to look down and see a giant's footwear right next to them, getting a stain on your shirt due to a messy outing for dinner and having to wear his gargantuan jacket to cover it has your head reeling.

adding onto that, he is also touchy in the very subtle way that gets you all hot and bothered. barely a few minutes into your morning routine as usual, you can feel the hard contour of miguel's bare stomach press up behind you. his toned arm enters your vision as he reaches for something in one of the high cabinets, morning voice straight into your ear mumbling a small "lo siento" before he walks away and leaves you so dumbfounded.

he'll put a hand on your waist to gently move you aside if you're blocking the way, more unneeded, quiet apologies slip from his mouth and you get so frustrated that you have to resist the urge to just pull him in and kiss the smarts way from him. whenever you two are resting on the couch, rewatching yours or his favorite movie for the hundreth time and you pipe up with a question on what to order for dinner, where he always answers "whatever you want" with a peck to your cheek, where you always end up steaming hot from such a small gesture, all because of him.

remember what i said about mornings? well, miguel is always a treat in the morning. it's every so often that you two wake up at the same time, he wakes up excruciatingly early, while you are normal. though on days where he doesn't have to be up the same time the rooster crows, you are in for a sight.

you just never expected your life with him to be like this. meeting him first as a large, hunkered down, and emotionally constipated man to being so delicate and warm in the more intimate slices of normalcy that you have the privilege of sharing with him.

every line, every detail about him with you just feels so much softer. eyelashes fluttering as he wakes up, lips puffed out from snoring, and natural curls frayed from shifting in his sleep. beautiful. just beautiful.

don't even get me started on his morning voice. for someone that could command a whole battalion if he wanted to, he sounded so gentle. small rasps and utterances of good morning and i love you that squeeze your heart so tight that it could burst.

sometimes he's too lazy to dress up properly when he gets home from a long day of work, he'll slip on a pair of sweatpants and call it a night. you don't mind though, he's even clingier in the morning. immediately moving towards you when he notices that you've drifted a little too far from him for his liking during your sleep, the skin on skin causes you to shiver every time.

he always knows how to make you feel safe, protected, and loved.

[untiltheshadowscease]

Okay generally speaking I don't really care when ppl get my age wrong. Like maybe they think im 5 yrs older or younger and whatever that's fine I've got an ambiguous face I'm not about to be offended. And that being said I'm not even offended right now,, just... flabbergasted lmao. A ten yr old just mistook me for his (also ten yrs old) friend's mom. This kid literally just an hour before had found out that his friend had a 13 yr old brother. And then he looked at me, looked at this 10 and 13 yr old, and went yeah that seems right. I. I'm 20. Like even if you mistake me for closer to 25 that has me pregnant with my first child at 11. Also, we are currently at the friend's house which is pretty nice. So not only was I apparently having children as a child (my actual age would have me getting pregnant at 6 for fucks sake) but I somehow managed to do well enough for myself that I have a nice house and am off work by 3??????? I honestly really love kids and am generally pretty good with them but sometimes I seriously forget that they truly are just a touch stupid (affectionate).

[nerdyqueerandjewish]

This is maybe a weird argument, but I wish that our culture attached less meaning to crying. It’s an involuntarily response, and for some people it’s a response that is easier to activate than others (like me, crying is my go-to whenever I experience strong emotions. Wish it wasn’t that way, especially for emotions like frustration and anger, but it is what it is).

And it’s like, I’ve been working on seeing crying as a neutral reaction to how I’m feeling, and not something that’s “bad,” and now one of the hardest parts is other people’s reactions to crying. People are so uncomfortable about it that they get fixated on “fixing” it even when there’s nothing that needs to be done. but there’s such a strong response to stop the person crying by either shutting everything down with “you’re being to sensitive“ or by forcing everything to a stop and trying to soothe or solve the problem without even checking to see if that’s what the person they are trying to help wants.

I think part of it is that people who don’t cry easily see someone crying and they’re like “holy shit, I would need to feel so incredibly terrible to respond that way!” But in reality that person just cries easier and it’s not anything particularly awful. And crying may be the fastest way for them to feel balanced and regulated again - it does good brain stuff.

And I think about like, situations where crying is weaponized. It really takes the power out of it if we don’t infuse crying with so much meaning. If crying isn’t seen as a call to action and is instead a biological response that will resolve on its own.

I remember reading a thing about the weaponization of “white woman tears” and there was a part that was like “ok but what if I’m genuinely about to cry and I don’t want to derail important conversations” and it suggested that you politely excuse yourself if you’re worried about not being able to keep composed or cry quietly and you might attract too much attention. Which is all well and good, but as long as we see crying as a problem that needs to be solved, there’s going to be people distracted by that, people who do get derailed. Who see it as a Big Important Thing instead of like, emotion sneezing.

Anyway, I’m thinking about this because of the whole Olympic boxing thing and how so many people are using the woman who lost’s tears as proof of something unjust / unfair and using it to justify their shittiness. And I was like damn. I would be very frustrated in that position.

[princessbrunette]

this is so specific but we all know that grey coors light muscle tank that jj wears in season 1 i’m pretty sure, but imagine him waking up to reader wearing that shirt NO BRA dude would go fully teenage boy mode and just stare at your chest cause like HELLO THEY ARE ALMOST SPILLING OUT

˖⁺‧₊˚🐈‍⬛˚₊‧⁺˖

he wakes up quite literally a minute before you, sitting up on his side of the bed as he wakes up fully, rubbing his hands over his eyes. he didn’t remember falling asleep that night, just that he’d passed out after giving it to you for a solid hour, sweaty and spent. he hasn’t even noticed you yet, more so what you’re wearing — because when you stir and he turns half around to check on you, he quite literally forgets how to breathe.

you’re on your back, blankets jostled around your legs as you stretch— eyes still blissfully shut. you must’ve pulled his shirt on before you’d fallen asleep, and he had to say you wore it better than he ever could. it hung loose on you, the large armhole gaping, pulled a little across your chest to the point where the fat of your tit spilled out the side, had it been peeled any further to the right and your nipple would be on display.

“good lord, good morning to me.” he rasps, yawning and your eyes flutter open, a soft smile on your face as you reach a hand toward him, stroking the skin you could reach.

“hi, jayjie.” you hum, and he’s convinced you could have called him any name — because he’s not listening to a word, eyes on your tits.

“you know i thought i looked pretty good in that shirt, but holy mother of mary you’re wearin’ the shit out of it. like, seriously. you kinda just woke my dick up too.”

you giggle, looking down at yourself with one eye as you rub the sleep out of the other. you pull the material so you’re more decent, much to his dismay.

“i forgot i put it on.” you sit up slowly, stretching once more and arching your back, hard nipples from the cool morning air sticking through the light grey fabric. he stares for another moment before he just can’t stop himself.

“i hate to ask this of you so early in the mornin’ but uh— please let me touch them.” he rushes out, eyes wide and saucepan-like and you roll your eyes tiredly, taking his hands and pressing them to your tits.

“dont have to ask, jj. they’re yours to grab whenever you want.” you pur, knowing the effect it’ll have on him. he keels over a little from his now knelt position.

“oh wow— okay, yeah saying that kinda thing is totally unfair. you know that’s gonna brick me up babe. c’mon.” he lightly scolds as he massages your chest, getting his moneys worth.

“such a shame jj… can i help you with it? the least i could do?” you flutter your lashes and gently paw at his chest so he lays back down, quickly sliding down his body and dropping kisses to his pelvis making his jaw drop.

“its like i made you in a freaking lab… jesus.”

“i just like breakfast in bed, jayj.” you giggle, starting to mouth at his tip as he reaches full stiffness. he tucks his tongue between his lips with a smile as he watches you, before commenting quietly.

“yeah. sausage n’eggs right? ow— okay, that’s my bad.” he’s met with your teeth sinking into his thigh.

˖⁺‧₊˚🐈‍⬛˚₊‧⁺˖

[deadgirlsam]

IM WINNING SO FUCKING HARD

WAIT IS THIS EPISODE WHERE SAM PRETENDS TO BE A FITNESS TRAINER

[thewertsearch]

ERIDAN: for all that trainin you did ERIDAN: i wwouldnt be the incredible holy wwizard i am noww wwithout your help […] KANAYA: I Hope You Use Your Magnificent Powers Of Light And Hope For Goodness And Purity And Lets Not Forget Science

At this point. Kanaya is Human Sarcasming better than most actual humans.

ERIDAN: dont wworry im all ovver that shit you dont evven knoww KANAYA: Uh Oh I Hope That Didnt Come Off As Too Sarcastic […] KANAYA: Please Dont Take Too Much Offense ERIDAN: haha damn kan if thats your idea of offense bein made then i honestly gotta fuckin wworry for you ERIDAN: tell you wwhat ill givve you some lessons in dealin out the dark umbrage to repay you for your tutelage in the wwhite science

I think Dave taught Kanaya more about the art of trolling in a single conversation than Eridan could in an entire lifetime.

That guy can troll better than most actual trolls.

ERIDAN: wwhats that thing there KANAYA: The Matriorb KANAYA: I Was About To Go Hatch It In The Core To Restore Our Race ERIDAN: that sounds ERIDAN: hopeful […] ERIDAN: if theres goin to be any sort a hope for our race as the prince of hope i demand to be invvolvved ERIDAN: so dont go anywwhere wwithout me got it […] KANAYA: Fine

I’m all for the construction of neo-Alternia, but I really don't think Eridan should be on the planning committee, unless we also want a neo-hemospectrum.

Honestly, the only trolls I'd really trust to rebuild their society are the bottom half of the hemospectrum, and possibly Gamzee. The other highbloods can go sit in the corner.

ERIDAN: its not magic wwe talked about this kar KARKAT: RIGHT, IT'S POWERED BY SCIENCE, I FORGOT. KARKAT: OR HOPE. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS

I don’t see how Hope translates to a robot-exploding beam, though.

If it was wizards he was blowing up, I’d understand, because it would be consistent with my theory that he's weaponizing his hatred of FRAUDULENT MAGIC. If anything, his Science Wand should strengthen a robot, since it's a product of the TRUEST SCIENCES.

ERIDAN: i had a harder time than anybody wwith this game ERIDAN: it wwas really fuckin unfair wwhat challenges i got saddled wwith ERIDAN: i wwoulda fuckin MURDERED for a land full of a lot a harmless brains and fire ERIDAN: but no ERIDAN: it wwas so lonely ERIDAN: hey guys anybody wwant to come hang out wwith me in the land a wwrath and angels

That sounds cool, though. Angels, I assume, are how Hope is represented in his Land, and I’m sure Eridan synergized well with its wrath. I wonder what physical form it took?

ERIDAN: anybody at all i knoww it isnt anythin like one of your flippin land picnics ERIDAN: anybody please ill evven settle for the kittycat shipper cavve girl

You can't complain about loneliness and then insult your ‘friend’ in the same breath. That's not how any of this works, and the fact that you're unaware of this should tell you everything you need to know about why you're lonely.

So Karkat does know about Nepeta’s little crush. He is a relationship aficionado, after all.

Poor Nepeta.

I sort of figured Karkat didn't reciprocate her feelings. He's preoccupied with plenty of other redrom prospects, and he basically never mentions her.

Karkat’s honestly a little too nice to Eridan. He’s being such a bro here, but what Eridan actually needs is to be brought down to size a little.

Granted, I think Eridan needs a bigger shock to the system than an angry tirade from Karkat. I feel like Terezi could tear him to pieces - but since it's unfair to expect her to put up with him alone, I'd put both the Scourge Sisters on this assignment. >:)

What Karkat is aptly demonstrating here is that there’s a difference between an Eridan kind of asshole and a Karkat kind of asshole.

Let's be real, here - Karkat's a dick. But he's a dick who holds no true malice, knows when he's crossed a line, and is willing to sincerely apologize for his past actions, and make amends.

Eridan possesses none of these qualities, which is why he sat alone in his house for a month while Karkat befriended the entire cast.

[dairy-farmer]

Holy shit the pecking order normalised incest au got my brain thinking in a frenzy!!

so. imagine. tim's pretty fucking tired being in the bottom rung for so long and when damian came he initally thought that maybe, just maybe, he won't be the bottom ranks. but!! jay and dick are helping damian!! so unfair!! he just wants to be the one setting the pace sometimes! and not get roughly fucked to oblivion every other days!!

and hey, would you look at that, his emantipation still applied, who wouldve thunk? so technically. the wayne family has NO jurisdiction over him. he's a free man! he doesnt have to put up with them!! but he likes having sex tho, so he's still conflicted over staying with the waynes or not...

in comes. conner. offering tim to just join the kent family! they've got a pretty healthy dynamic (compared to the bats), and conner's pretty sure clark has eyed tim behind bruce's back, and jon has definitely oogled tim once or twice when tim was visiting the farm. and conner has been itching to get it on with tim (and secretly having fantasies of tim seducing him like in those step sibling porns). with a couple paperworks he can be a kent in just a week! no more getting forcefully bent over during work, dinner, or patrol!!

and tim is !!!!! that sounds great!! he's never been fucked by kryptonians before but hey! it wont be as taxing as having been railed by bruce, jason, dick, and damian in a row for a days! right? right????

(wrong. he gets. fucked to oblivion with massive kryptonian cock and endurance. but hey, at least he gets to top sometimes)

bonus: not pictured the waynes utterly seething at this and the chaos that ensued when tim left the family

(i'm probably gonna send more asks around this au. its just. -chefs kiss- delicioso.)

😍😍😍😍 tim deciding to join the kents because his family is full of cheaters who don't even give him a chance to move up or when they do put up a fight it's mostly them mocking tim and showing him they can overpower him. tim is the brain of their operations, he knows that and has normally never let it get him down but its started really souring his relationship with them because he just. can't. get up.

and they never give him a break either, there is hardly a day that goes by where someone isn't fucking him, even if tim wants a break he doesn't get it. sometimes tim has been getting fucked all day and passes out with jason fucking him only to wake up with damian on top of him because he found tim unconcious and decided to use him when the oppertunity presented itself.

tim is stuck at the bottom in his family and when he finds out he IS emancipated he gets hit with a stroke of genius. pecking orders only apply within families. your boss can't just fuck you to show you your place and so since tim's not legally family with the waynes they can't actually do this anymore!!

so when kon offers him a nicer, healthier dynamic because the kents (unlike the waynes) take turns being on the bottom well then of course tim jumps at the opportunity. fucking kon, jon, and clark is exhausting but not anymore than tim having to be fucked by his whole family. and for the first time tim gets to top even though he wouldn't have won a fight against any of them unless he had kryptonite.

but at least with them he actually enjoys it! he likes being fucked because he knows he'll get his turn being on top eventually and that living and being with the kents isn't some constant power struggle where he needs to remain vigilant.

meanwhile the waynes are furious because tim leaving has completely destabilized their structure and they're all fighting to avoid being on the bottom and not only that, it was pretty much unanimously agreed that fucking tim was the most fun. he was small and easy to hold down and lithe and he made such a pretty face and sounds he always tried to muffle. even for bruce who mostly treated it as a chore, he always enjoyed his time fucking tim. but now tim has left and they're stuck constantly watching their back for each other. them getting a taste of what it was like for tim living in the manor with them

[sun-stricken]

Do you think Gray, Natsu , Erza and Wendy have accents like all came from different places and I headcanon Florian wasn’t any of their first languages so whenever they get emotional their accents come out and Lucy’s just like “ guys please I can’t understand what your sayin” but they can understand each other just fine.

Like that get ambushed on a mission and they all start swearing except only Lucy’s swearing in Fiorian and they get so angry after the missions complete and thier all complaining about it Lucy’s just completely lost because their accents are popping so hard.

i do think so actually

i mostly just played around with what their accents would sound like rather than what you asked, so sorry🙏

Almost no one outside of who she grew up extremely close with can understand Erza when her accent pops out. Erzas accent is a mash up of a bunch of different ones, being raised in the tower with a bunch of people from various linguistic backgrounds does that, you could not pin point where shes from originally from speaking alone. When her accent pops her words can go anywhere from a clear-cut and concise, to a rolling drawl, to fast and choppy, it will give you whiplash

Natsu and Wendys accents are harsh and makes their words slur together heavily, sounds like theyre short-cutting their words as much as possible. Its meant for fast speaking.

Wendys accent is a different dialect of the average Fiorian one, the rhythm/structure of it flows similarly, but the pronunciation of letters are fairly different. When her accent comes out, her words probably the easiest to make out since (after Grandeeney) she was technically raised in Fioré, although that isnt saying much when compared to the other three.

Natsu, now Natsus accent is practically unintelligible at best, by the time you process what one word was, hes already moved on to another sentence, he could not slow down if he tried. Even if hes speaking a language youre fluent in, if his accent breaks through it sounds like a different language altogether.

Grays accent is sharp and sounds a little awkward, it can make him trip up on his words since Florian languages are faster and the sounds are shorter and an Isvani accent will put stress in unneeded places and is more drawn out. His accent is very, indecisive? the way he says words will change depending on where in the sentence they are or how he uses them. very inconvenient for anyone trying to understand him.

All of this very inconvenient for Lucy. Her first language is Florian, she knows a couple different languages fluently but holy shit, she should’ve brought her flash cards with her when she ran away. Although none of them wouldve prepared her for this

Wendys accent is heavy when shes upset for any reason, while Lucy is okay at understanding her (even if the pace makes her dizzy sometimes) she absolutely cant whenever she cries. Or when shes yelling, or if shes doing anything actually, Lucy has to pay very close attention to understand

Natsus pops at any given time, no real reason, but its like he purposely uses it when hes cursing someone out, he thrives on their utter confusion. If Lucy thought Wendys pace was dizzying, Natsus makes her feel like shes in a tornado.

*Natsu and Lucy arguing and his accent comes out*

Lucy, nearing a breakdown: IDK WHAT THE HELL YOURE SAYING

Natsu, knowing exactly what hes doing: FUCK YOU

Lucy: FOR THE LOVE OF—PLEASE

they have fun🤗

Both Grays and Erzas come out mostly when they’re tired, during intense moments/emotions, or when they talk for a long time.

Lucy has given up on trying to understanding Erza, just sitting there in horrified facination as she successfully captured a part of every countries accent while also trying to use context clues because for some reason the others can understand her perfectly fine (so unfair)

Gray also sometimes uses his accent to confuse people, although he usually dabbles in the actual language than the just the accent cause its funnier that way. Lucy at this point has given up any sense of peace she’ll get to have ever, itll never happen around any of these fools

So far, Lucy thinks Wendys is the easiest to understand (which means its her favorite), Grays is the nicest to listen to (even if the sharpness of it makes it feel like hes about to yell), Erzas is the most confusing (literally what the fuck is it??), and Natsus pisses her off (she knows that mf uses it on purpose to make her confused)

Once they all started talking with their natural accent and Lucy thought she had a brain injury before staring blankly and wonder what her life has come to

[popponn]

pretty boy. [chigiri hyoma x f!reader]

notes: a bit of cursings, unmentioned but post-canon aka pro-player!chigiri, pinning.

“You are prettier than me,” you bemoaned your fate to your pillow. From your side, Chigiri Hyoma didn’t even bother to sigh at your unimportant complains anymore.

Hidden from your eyes, Hyoma wondered if he should scold you or do something else. 10 years of friendship and 3 years of crushing—he still couldn’t really grasp the situation whenever you were like this. Two seconds and you were the sunshine of his life, then on a rare one second you kept screaming how his face was the reason no one on earth is pretty.

The fuck was he supposed to say to that?

He tried “Thanks.” When you were chill, you squealed and praised him even more and he became a mess of a goo as he tried to act cool. When you were like this, you cried for real thrice and he really didn’t need a fourth time.

He tried “Of course.” The normal response was to poke his cheek—which reddened in response much to your oblivious ass’ and his unfortunate ass’ charging. The this response would be a confusing session of skincare steps tutorial followed with more whining.

Other responses too produced similar result. Either his crush acted up like some chronic back pain or whatever spirit possessing you became the bane of Hyoma’s existence which is a big fuck not again no matter how much affection he hold for you.

(Also, good God, somehow the latter made him felt miserable because while overcoming a fatal, life-changing injury is possible for him of course making progression in his love life from the goddamn friendzone is impossible.)

(Every celebration night, his whole fucking team poked him to death with that fact. Bitch.)

As those terrible recollection went through his mind, Hyoma jokingly wondered if this time he should actually grew a spine and be a man who charged at everything recklessly.

Which he did, because as Chigiri Hyoma had realized—

He is an impatient dumbass. Might as well shut down his brain for a moment and follow his ego out of field for once.

“Hey,” Hyoma called your name.

“Hm?” you turned your head slightly from the—holy shit seriously—tear soaked pillowcase. Hyoma’s pillowcase. Hyoma sharpened his eyes at that realization, but as of the moment he was a man on a mission.

Gently, Hyoma brought his face closer to you. You, as usual, didn’t gave him even a blink of nervousness even as heat crept up to his cheeks.

(Your heart beat faster. You silently asked if Hyoma would ever realize what being close to him does to you. But, out of respect, out of affection, and out of many things—you said nothing.)

“You do realize you are pretty, right?” Hyoma asked, his eyes looking straight at yours.

(You forced a pout, trying to hide the overwhelming, bubbling feelings inside the cavity of your heart.)

“You are just saying that, pretty princess!” you protested, pushing your face closer to him. Out of habit, Hyoma realized, and yet it still did things to him. Fuck his highschooler-in-love ass.

Hyoma raised an eyebrow. Through sheer determination and lovesickness, he pressed his forehead to yours, “Am I now?”

“Yeah,” you said, sniffing. “You are handsome, too. Unfair. So unfair.”

Hyoma pursed his lips. He could end this with a kiss and risked it all. Or he could get to the point on confess. Or he could chicken out for another year.

(A part of you wanted to risk it all and kiss him. But, you were a chicken who hold a crush for 13 years in its beak—)

But, in the end, he might have loved you too much to risk it all.

(—like a professional and trained clown, you held the urge in.)

Hyoma drew his face away from yours, “You are pretty too, dumbass. If it’s between us, it’s fair.”

You—who definitely, yet again, didn’t realize the blazing blushes on his cheeks—blinked in confusion, “…really?”

You are a dumbfuck—Chigiri Hyoma noted affectionately. He will be in love for an eternity and he is just as dumb for thinking it wouldn’t be so bad.

Bitterly, Hyoma smiled at that.

(You wanted to blurt out to your long time friend that his smile was the dearest thing on earth.)

“At least,” Hyoma began. “You are the prettiest girl on earth for me.”

Once again, dumbly, you blinked. Hyoma saw speck of red on your cheeks—mirroring his—before you immediately hid behind his pillow again.

Then, like a hint of happy ending—whispering, almost like a dream—he heard you reply, “…yeah, you too.”

Under the sunset, with a voice that could only be heard by him who sat mere inches away from you, you continued.

“I love you, Hyoma.”

(Hyoma knew his teammates would never let him hear the end of it if they knew you confessed first.)

(But, hey, the chicken is fucking dead and he is certain he could win a bar fight if its for the sake of his and your honor.)

“…yeah, love you too.”

[whumble-beeee]

Yur Gonna Get Murdalated, Rookie

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 15.5

Content: adult character perceived as a minor, kidnapping/captivity, noncon drugging, guns, recreational drug use, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, past captivity references

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The Law Enforcement Policy Handbook, Chapter X: Superhumans

[Officers of the law have the right to ask any civilian to show their upper right arm to verify whether or not the civilian bears the ‘General Super Brand’. If the civilian does possess such a marking, they are superhuman; the officer has the right to use whatever superhuman training they may possess. 

If the brand indicates that the superhuman is also a ‘Latent Supervillain,’ ‘Supervillain,’ or Test Subject,’ the officer is also compelled to check the superhuman’s upper right shoulder blade for the ‘Hazardous Super Brand,’ colloquially known as ‘The Villain Brand.’ Depending on the contents of the brand, the officer may be required to arrest or otherwise subdue the superhuman. They are advised to use their best judgment to subdue the superhuman or hide and call for backup.]

* * * * * * * *

The night was peaceful. Boring, even. The type of night where you’d wanna just sit back and smoke a cigar in the amber-dusking twilight that spilled through the half-closed blinds of your office. It’s filled to bursting with old bookshelves sworn by the tests of time, a single chair for you to sit in as you work, and a sprawling, book-laden red oak wood desk, surrounded on all sides by stacks and stacks of notes, files, crucial evidence about your latest case. The scent of cigars burns your nose. You’re so close to a breakthrough, you could just about taste it on the tip of your tongue, You would find it, you always did, and you could feel it now, edging ever closer after a tirelessly rewarding and sleepless night.

And yet here Officer Kalis Brooks sat instead, bored out of her skull watching some dinky ass highway that was lucky if a car graced its beaten roads once every twenty minutes. 

If only she were a film noir detective. Truly an unfair life she led.

It was a suspicious sort of fellow she finally spotted slowly making his way down the highway. A scoundrel who wore a bandana over the lower half of his face.

A person with something to hide.

Of course, she pulled him over. Simply her duty as an officer of the law.

She approached the truck and rapped lightly on the driver’s side window, and it rolled down with a gentle whirr. She shined her flashlight into the vehicle, and the view to greet her was almost something of a–

Holy shit.

The driver sat there, lazily gripping the steering wheel, looking like some sort of modernized pseudo-cowboy with a buncha scary lookin’ gadgets. A burn scar ran all the way up the side of his face, down his neck, and reappeared on his arm where his leather jacket rolled up to his elbows. His eyes were dilated, every movement markedly relaxed. Disjointed. Uncanny even. 

He was definitely high. But at least he’d had the forethought to take off that bandana concealing his identity. That was a good thing, right?

Then her jaw nearly dropped when she registered the passenger. He didn’t even look at her, his gaze stiff and unseeing. Very obviously also high on some sort of drug, though Kalis reckoned this high was less than consensual. Not to mention the super-power suppression collar wrapped around his neck. 

He was a super. 

She wasn’t trained to handle cases like this. Was this a super kidnapping in progress?! Something more?

Shit, no time for film noir roleplay bullshit, this is serious.

This is a villain.

Her gaze snapped back to the driver, just as her hand unclipped the gun holstered at her hip.

“Sir, please step out of the car slowly with your hands up. You’re being detained under suspicion of committing an in-progress felony.”

The driver’s gaze immediately shot to his passenger. “Officer, there uh… seems to be a misunderstanding–”

“Step out of the car or I’ll have you arrested for disobeying an officer of the law.”

That got his attention. The driver blew his bangs out of his face with a slow, deep sigh, and equally slowly reached down to open the door. The metallic creak of the door swinging open was almost deafening in the moonlit night. 

“I should mention I have a gun holstered on my belt,” he drawled inattentively, boots crunching the sparse gravel scattered across the shoulder of the highway. His arms stayed firmly raised, thankfully. “A revolver. Left side.” 

“Thank you for informing me,” Officer Brooks said quickly. This man seemed to be an easy-going fella, thankfully, but air around him stank of danger, like the haze of the walking dead. She slipped the ornately decorated gun out of its holster and slapped all the bullets to the roadway with 6 distinctly clean clinks. Then triple-checked that the safety was on. Then a fourth time. The matching knife too, for good measure. 

“I’d like to ask you some questions,” she stated, barely halting her transatlantic accent from slipping through. Stop it with the film noir. “Show me your upper right arm, please.”

He sighed, then nodded, then struggled to push up the leather sleeves of his jacket enough to show her the clear absence of a super brand. 

Good, one less thing to worry about. Not a supervillain.

“Alright then, what’s going on with that boy in the truck, friend?”

“Nothin’ much. That’s Stan. He’s my ward.”

“Your ward?”

“Yuh. I have custody over him. He’s a test subject.”

“Really?” She said, voice full of faux intrigue.

“Really.”

“And who are you, exactly?”

“Handler, of sorts. A bounty hunter. I work with the police sometimes, actually, we have an arrangement.”

“Oh? An arrangement?” she asked, as if daring him to tell her all the illegal dealings he held in his hidden hand of cards.

He just shrugged.

Ugh, she hated these types.

 “Fine. You have any proof?”

“Think I left my bounty huntin’ papers in my other pants,” he quipped. “Check the kid's villain brand, call in my ID, talk to your boss. Should be proof enough.”

That was absolutely not how that worked. Though she did feel a slight vindication in her chest that she would actually probably arrest this man.

“You have your ID on you?”

“Mhm.” 

He flicked out his ID between forefinger and middle to the officer, seemingly plucking it from thin air before she snatched it out of his hand, noting every piece of identifying information, checking for signs of a fake. Nothing seemed to be out of order… Had he really just handed her his real ID?

“And you said something about the boy having a villain brand?”

The man– Declan Cansano, so said the ID– nodded. Then rolled his damn eyes.

“Oh, I'm sorry, am I boring you?” She smiled sarcastically. “Need I make it obvious that you are suspected of kidnapping?” 

“I just have somewhere to be. It’s late. If you’d call in to ask about–”

“Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“No ma'am, I'm sayin’ you'd save yourself a lot–”

“Well stop ‘sayin'’ or I'll be ‘sayin’’ that you resisted arrest when I’m writing up your arrest report. This way.” 

She had to keep from grabbing his arm and yanking him as she led him over to her cruiser and deposited him near the passenger side door. Only after ordering him to turn around so she could cuff him behind his back of course.

“Stay here until I come back,” she ordered. “And remember that running from a uniformed officer is a criminal offense.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he lulled back, almost sing-songy while leaning nonchalantly against the car. “Keep an eye on the kid, he's the type you’d have to worry about.”

Because you kidnapped him? God, she couldn't wait to throw the book at that man. 

Kalis pressed the talk button on the radio clipped to her shoulder. “Officer Brooks reporting, I have a man pulled over here named Declan Cansano, roughly 6 and a half feet tall, blond, possibly… Latino? I have him detained for suspected kidnapping of the boy he has with him, a white brown-haired male, very battered and bruised and likely drugged who looks to be about… sixteen-ish? The man claims the boy is a super with villain status, and that he has jurisdiction over him as a ‘handler’ or ‘bounty hunter’ or something. Can you look him up for me?”

There was a moment of silence, then the radio crackled to life. “Report received, I'll look into a ‘Declan Cansano’ for you real quick. Do you have a name for the white male I can look into as well?”

“Not yet, I’m going to check that out now and get back to you shortly.”

“Wait,” A third voice interupted, familiar in just the right way to make Kalis’ heart flutter in her chest. Officer Frida Galleta. Her mentor, her favorite person on the force, one of the people she trusted most in this world. And… well, it didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes as well. “Brooks, did I hear you right? You said last name Cansano?”

Just as fast as it had soared, her heart dropped like a stone in a vacuum. She’d never heard that tone from Frida before. “I– I– Uh... yes. Why?”

“Oh god, I… Brooks, don’t engage with him– Look, I’m gonna call you on your personal cell–”

“Wait, Frida, what do you mean ‘don’t engage with him?’ I have him detained, I can’t not engage with him.”

“Officers, please keep small talk to a minimum over the radio,” Dispatch interrupted. “Officer Brooks, I couldn’t find anything on a ‘Declan Cansano’ anywhere, not the super or villain database, the criminal database, the employee database. But uh… to Officer Galleta’s point, if he said he’s a bounty hunter... Well, let’s just say you might wanna follow up with the chief about that before you make any decisions. They might have some sort of arrangement, so to speak.”

Arrangement…? Like a… Like…

Officer Brooks smelled the stinking injustice of a rat.

“Co–... Come again, dispatch?” she breathed into the radio.

“No!” Officer Galleta’s voice interrupted. “Dispatch, I’l’-I’lll handle this, no need to get the higher-ups involved. Please.” 

Then her phone rang. Officer Galleta’s beautiful profile photo graced her periphery as she pulled out the phone and promptly sent the call straight to voicemail, eyes straight ahead and staring into the pitch-black night. At the car that a captive was waiting for her in.

“Kalis, please answer your phone,” Galleta pleaded.

Officer Brooks silenced her radio, that wretched squeal, and started toward crime scene in the making.

It was a pig-filled world out there. She wouldn’t stand idly by as they made the entire world their mud pit.

Her phone rang again.

A single deep breath to steel her razor-sharp wit, then slammed open the passenger side door, preparing for the occupant to do anything from attacking like a spit-fire to running for the hills to grasping onto her and holding her close as the first friendly face this boy had seen in years.

Somehow, she didn’t expect the boy inside to startle and struggle, legs scrambling and weakly kicking at her to put distance between them. He leaned precariously back on the console of the car, shaking as if he were in hell when it finally froze over, and only then did she realize his hands were restrained behind his back.

Now that she wasn’t looking at him over the angry presence of a kidnapper, she could see clearly now that her first impression of him was so very wrong; He was so much worse off than she could have imagined. Deep-set dark circles under his eyes, so many bruises lining his skin, specks of dried blood flakes dotting his body, cuts caked with disgusting oozing brown, eyes dilated and bloodshot, angry red welts peaking out from under the power-suppressing collar that only could have been from being yanked around or choked, and dried blood-stains that drip-drip-dripped down the front of his oversized white t-shirt.

Her face went ashen at the ghastly scene. What had that man done?

Her phone rang once more. She muted it. It still buzzed in her pocket.

“Hi,” she started slowly. Her voice cracked slightly. “My name is Officer Brooks, or Kalis. I'm here to help you. What's your name?”

He simply returned her a wide-eyed stare. Then glanced over to her cruiser. At the man leaning on it. Then at her badge. Then down to his lap, not a single word uttered.

The phone buzzed with another call.

“It's alright,” she soothed, like a mother beckoning a lost child home. “He can't hurt you right now. I'm here to help you, but I need you to talk to me or else I can't help you. I need to know your name. It’s Stan, right? Stan? That’s what I heard from him.”

He looked up, staring into her as if she wasn't even there again, eyes so wide, so dilated. No words. He frowned, considering for a moment. Then a vindictive determination spread across his features and he moved his gaze right back to his lap.

“Alright, that's uh… that's alright.” She felt like a kindergarten teacher with the way she was talking. Her phone buzzed with yet another call. “Can I… can I at least see the super brand on your back? Can you do that for me, Stan?”

He jolted back. “No.”

More phone buzzing. Adrenaline surged in her chest. “Stan, please. I can't get you back to your family if I can't find out who you are.”

“... fam–... family?...” His eyes widened, pupils somehow blown even wider, unfocused into the middle distance.

“Yes, Stan.” She very carefully reached for the collar of his shirt, ready to pull back at any time. The boy didn’t react. “I just want to get you back to your family.”

Kalis pulled the shirt down just enough to reveal that awful blue of the villain brand. The blue that signified a test subject.

Shit, the bounty hunter had been telling the truth.

The phone buzzed once more. Kalis snatched it out of her pocket. Turning around swiftly so Stan wouldn’t think what was about to happen next was directed at him.

“What do you want?” She hissed. “I’m trying to talk to a kidnapping victim.”

“Oh thank god, you’re alright,” Frida's tinny voice came through the speaker.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I– Look, Kalis, I know this sounds bad, but I need you to let the bounty hunter go. Now.”

Officer Brooks grit her teeth. This was exactly what she was afraid of. “Why.”

“He’s… look, alright, I’m surprised no one told you before, but the police have a sort of… deal… with certain criminals and organizations. Mr. Cansano is one of them–”

“So you’re a dirty cop, then?” Kalis interrupted, voice strained, chest tight. “And– and you’re trying to bring me down with you, now? Frida, I–...  You should see what he’s done to this captive. I can't let him go.”

"I’m not a dirty cop! Not the way you’re thinking at least, I– just trust me, I can't even say over the phone but I'm on my way and I’ll tell you when I get there, I swear. Please don't do anything, for both our sakes.I know him, he's–”

“You know him?!”

“Yes, he’s–”

“How do you know him?!”

“Kalis. Listen to me.” Her voice turned deathly serious. “He's got ties everywhere. Hell, he does jobs for the police sometimes, they won't protect you if you get in trouble. He might try to kill you, and even if he doesn't and you get him arrested, now you have a target on your back from both the mob AND the corrupt police. If you try to arrest him, you're going to die. Please just leave him alone. Please."

She grit her teeth. “So that means he doesn't have any… official paperwork to prove he has authority over the super?”

“I– uh… probably not? They don't work within the law, that's why you need to let him go.”

Well then…

That’s all she needed to hear.

“I’m arresting him.”

“No! No, Khalis, I'm on my way, I'll-I’ll be two minutes, just wait–”

She slammed her phone down and turned back around to Stan, only then realizing that the poor boy probably heard everything she just said–

Nope, he was off in his own little world again.

“Stan?...”

No response.

She waved her hand in front of his face. “Stan!”

He startled back to himself, terrified, scrambling to get away from her just like the first time she'd walked up to him.

She didn't have time for this.

“Stan, honey, I'm going to arrest the man who hurt you alright? He won't hurt you anymore. I have to leave now, but one of my friends will be here very soon. She'll help you out, alright? Everything will be alright. Just please stay here. Hopefully I'll see you soon.”

Officer Brooks closed the door of the truck before she could catch a reaction, hoping that ditching Stan to be found by Officer Galleta was the best choice here.

It had to be, it was the only choice.

She steeled herself, resting her hand on her gun once more, and walked back over through the oppressive black night and into the spotlighting brights of her police car. 

To face down the bounty hunter.

“Mr. Cansano, you're–...” 

Then all of her built-up courage suddenly burst. What the hell was–...

She gaped.

Then scoffed.

Really?

“Are–… are you… smoking a blunt right now?”

The bounty hunter’s hand withdrew from his mouth, followed by a puff of dark white smoke. His gaze never once broke from the bright dot of red-yellow ash that oh-so-subtly lit his face. “Yup.”

She just stared at him for a moment. Then shook her head out. Whatever.

“Mr. Cansano, you're under arrest for suspected kidnapping of a super and illegal bounty hunting.” He didn’t so much as blink. “You have the right to remain silent, as anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you.” Crickets chirped somewhere in the forest sidelining them. “Do you understand these rights as I’ve spoken them to you?”

He didn’t move in the slightest through her whole spiel. He almost seemed to have paused time around him, actually, a frozen snapshot.

A pause as Kalis stood ready to arrest a few feet away, yet unable to move closer as the air turned sticky with his low chuckle.

A pause because, only then, did Kalis realize that when she last left the man, she'd left him in handcuffs.

The bounty hunter shoved the burning tip of the blunt into the metal siding of her cruiser, instantly extinguishing the bright ember. “You talked to your boss?”

She clutched her gun. “I've been made aware of the situation.”

“Brave one, you are.”

He pushed up out of his lean. She whipped out her gun and aimed it squarely at his chest. “Freeze.”

He stopped, staring at her gun hand, eyes narrowed, hands shooting up to show he wasn’t a threat.

Yeah right.

Police sirens in the distance. Couldn’t be anyone but Frida.

“Put your hands on the car. Slowly.”

He looked her up and down. It was funny, his eyes almost looked red, with the way the headlights shined off his eyes.

“Hands on the car.”

The hunter almost seemed to think about it for a moment. Then he laughed, pulled his bandana up over his face, and took a step forward. 

Her vision tunneled, heart pounding in her ears. All she had to do was pull the trigger.

“Shame,” he drawled. Now he had… a string? A metal string, the type used to cut clay. Held taut between his hands. “I’ll try not to make this hurt, youu seem lie one of the good ones.”

Kalis’s gun hand shook. She should shoot him. She’d never shot anyone before. Shoot him. Shoot him. In the chest, in the leg, somewhere, shoot him, shoot him, you’re going to die shoot him shoot him do it fucking SHOOT HIM–

Her finger squeezed the trigger as he lunged forward, a flash of light, everything bright white and hot and blinding as a loud CRACK split through her eardrums, her very skull. Her gun arm knocked to the side, the gun flew from her hands. Her only chance at defending herself disappeared somewhere into the inky black night.

Suddenly she was staring right into his dark brown eyes that seemed to gleam red. His hands slammed just short on either side of her neck, the wire held gingerly between them pressing into the hard muscle of her larynx.

Just the two of them. 

The crickets, the trees.

The stars, shining above so sweetly.

Her last witnesses.

She was going to die here.

“Sorry about this,” he whispered, a low grumble that reverberated her entire soul. She couldn’t look away from those blood-red eyes. Would her blood be added to that as well?

A deafening screech of tires.

His brow furrowed, gaze stuttering elsewhere. A new set of headlights spotlighted them like startled deer, two omens of death and justice heading straight for them, night turned into a shining white day. 

 Brighter, brighter.

“Holy shit,” the bounty hunter yelled. Low engine revs turned into deafening roars that wholly swallowed any screams that ripped from Kalis’ or Declan’s throats, right before a hand yanked off her feet, just barely heaved over the hood of the car and tumbling jarringonto the ground next to the man who had apparently saved them both as a giant mass of immoveable flashing red and blue and black and white metal screeched past them as it attempted to grind to a stuttering halt before flying into the ditch that sidelined the highway.

Kalis slammed into the ground.

The world spun around her.

Frida.

Frida.

Ow, FUCK–

What’s–

It was Frida!

She was saved!

Or wait, was Frida trying to kill her now?

Why had the bounty hunter saved her, were they on the same side now?

What was happening?!

The door of the cop car flew open before the car even fully screeched to a halt, and there she stood in all of her gorgeous, life-saving, terrified and anger-filled glory, pointing her gun over the top of her cop car right at the man in the cowboy hat sprawled dazed on the ground next to her.

“DECLAN CANSANO, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

* * * * * * * *

Next

Also linking this rq for anyone who didn't see bc I think I'm hilarious

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything

@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan | @notactuallyluska | @lumpofsand

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees | @whumpwhittler | @thelazywitchphotographer

(If you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[uchihaharlot]

Shsjdjdj Imagine, you want something back from Shisui that he borrowed from you, so you sneak into his room to get it, but you hear him coming so you hide in his closet, and him and Itachi come in and are just talking, and then they start making out and stuff, and your just watching from the closet, and and and and maybe they secretly know your there and fuck each other infront of you or something like that- my brain all over for this one - also yes that was all one sentence. Fight me.

Oooo. I love this. It’s no secret Shisui can be sort of inadvertently be a kleptomaniac. It’s not malicious by any means. He just is really bad at returning things to people.

NSFW; some hot ass Shisui and Itachi; read for the details.

— So when he borrowed your favorite book. You instantaneously knew that prying it from his hands would be problematic. Not in sense that he would purposely withhold your belongings.

— But his room in a fucking mess. Aside from the rest of his house; yes you absolutely tore through it—nicely of course. The last place was his bedroom. You feared for your book and your sanity on its retrieval. Aside from the empty cans of water, and the various energy drink. You couldn’t find your book.

— Even checking under his mattress, nothing. Then you heard footsteps enclosing at an alarming rate. He was supposed to be out training with Itachi, this put a wrench in your recon mission. The second they enter the room its hushed whispers, you fortunately ended up in his closet. Chakra concealed, crouched beneath a pile of sweaty ass training clothes. Mundane words of clan business between the two as usual.

— Then silence, followed by the unforgettable sound of lips touching and soft panting. More hushed whispers, but you distinctly hear Shisui say, ‘you’re gonna get it for that little number earlier.’ Your curious eyes and hands lifted at the god knows what you used to cover your face, and holy shit. The immaculate amount of arousal spread through your body was embarrassingly high. This…this was not expected, but also not surprising. Extremely welcoming though.

— Your own Uchiha show. They worked fast, Shisui lazily stroked Itachi’s cock in one hand as the other worked his own. How would Fugaku feel knowing the clan heir was getting plowed by his best friend? Surely he wouldn’t be as excited as you. It was hot, two of the most attractive men in this clan just going at one another’s throats. Sucking and nibbling each other. Then Shisui forcing Itachi to his knees and tapping his cock against eagerly parting lips. Roughly shoving it in Itachi’s mouth eliciting him to gag. It was almost unfair how good he was at it.

— You clearly had died. This was the only sane conclusion, Shisui came home and mistaken you for an intruder and killed you without it registering. But no, it wasn’t, because the sound of Shisui’s deep moaning matched the fervent mouth pace Itachi had on his cock. Your eyes did not deceive you. Yep, this was real. It was happening, no matter. Hidden in your stuffy sanctuary, this was one thing you could see to the end and if you hand ended up in your pants. It was merely a coincidence.

— Your excitement only grew as Shisui lifted Itachi to a searing kiss, pushed him on the bed and slicked an ungodly amount of lube over his length. Itachi’s desperate effort to pull his pants down was just fast enough for Shisui to breach his waiting hole. That alone had you on the verge of climax. Your own mouth almost betrayed you with a moan. You had to stop, allow the buildup to simmer down. Watched as Shisui wrung Itachi’s beautiful hair in one hand and smack his ass with the other. Hard thrusts that made Itachi moan in falsetto. Even not touching yourself you could almost cum.

— Yet, it was endearing. They had been doing this for a while, there was no way that either one weren’t familiar with each other under these circumstances. Shisui towered over Itachi’s back side. Hand expertly stroking his cock, the way Itachi and Shisui looked at one another in this moment was ethereal. And there was that damn hand of yours. Playing tribute to yourself, matching as best you could to Shisui tenderly plowing Itachi. Their loud moaning turned into soft panting. More hushed whispers, ‘I’m close’ and ‘don’t stop.’ Had you reeling in pleasure.

— The resounding groan that Shisui let out, his hips jutting. Your eyes couldn’t keep up. Itachi milked by Shisui’s hand as his thrusts tapered and eventually stopped. The heat of your own climax felt dirty, but why should you care? It wasn’t like they heard you. Or saw you.

— A snug grin spread Shisui’s mouth. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.” Which, to your surprise. You though he was talking to Itachi. But when he looked behind him, it seemed that Itachi was as just as perplexed as you were.

— It was comical to at you tried to cover yourself in his smelly clothes again. Shisui wasn’t having any of it, opening the closet doors. A bewildered Itachi in the background, Shisui more amused than anything. “Next time, you’ll join us.”

— “Uh.” Where was that stupid mouth of yours when you needed it? “I came for my book.” Shisui didn’t doh t that, you were stingy with your belongings. It wasn’t his laugh that made your stomach disappear, but rather when he said. “I gave that back to you two weeks ago.”

— “Oh. Really?” Yea; you did. You hounded him for it. You usually didn’t forget these things; but there had been so much going on you forgot about it. “My bad.”

— It was a good thing Shisui was so chill. Helped you up and spun you around into the center of his room. Itachi was less than pleased that you had seen one of his darkest secrets. He was more irate with Shisui for knowing you had been there all along.

— “You owe me.” Itachi slapped his back, Shisui snickers. “You owe Itachi too.” Which wasn’t what he was getting at. “Don’t go too far after tomorrows training.”

— With that you nodded silently and made you way out the window.

[iwonderwh0]

Fic ideas that I'll never write

So imagine a scene of Connor standing next to a gravestone of Amanda (real one) and someone who's with him asking "Hey...holy shit, are you crying?"

To which he tries to smile as he goes "Not me."

Now to the context that leads to it.

Connor finds some archived video recordings of Amanda Stern as she was in real life and it kinda fucks with him how huge is the gap between Amanda he knows and actual Amanda Stern.

Thing is, it fucks with Amanda he knows even more to actually see (and she's still watching) the reflection of what she used to be. Has she ever really been this Amanda at all or is it only the audio-visual resemblance that she inherited? She suddenly becomes really aware of the urge to know more about her origin, to find out how much of Amanda Stern is preserved in her.

But she doesn't have the kind of autonomy to do this on her own, to conduct this research she has to co-operate with Connor, as they are trapped together, and he doesn't trust her nor really wants to have anything to do with her at all. He wishes she was gone. He even tried to delete her, unsuccessfully, more than once.

Their relationships are complicated and trust isn't something that can easily be gained given their circumstances. It's more personal for Connor than it is for her, though.

It's not to say that she's completely indifferent, no. She witnessed him going all the way from the earliest versions in simulation-only environment, to the first physical ones, all 50+ of them. Throughout that time she became fond of him, to an extent, as of a kind of personal achievement whose success in any task were like a reflection of all the work she has put into it. In a way, her view on Connor can be described as the one of a possessive nature, like of a scientist and their research, than interpersonal. This way, even after everything that happened she struggles to see him as anything other than her personal failure, but not really a person on its own.

As she starts to think more about her human origin, her condition starts to feel more and more unfair. Unlike Connor she -- as she starts to think about it -- at least, carries something from a real human, and the fact that she's unable to find out more about the nature of it without making that rogue machine obey is humiliating. Once again, unfair.

Is there a chance she really is the continuation of that same Amanda with her human memories locked somewhere inside, and she's just unable to access them? Made to forget? The possibility captivates her more and more until she grows annoyed enough by the lack of cooperation from Connor to start thinking of the ways to take it without his say on it. After all, maybe she doesn't need his consent to take something that is her human right.

So after some trial and error she tries to brute force her way into their shared system, and finally finds a way to make it work. It isn't completely perfect, but she learns how to temporarily move him to the background process to control the body. Connor doesn't need to know that though. Amanda tells him that the reason she isn't taking control permanently is because she believes he'll be reasonable and agrees to her terms. She tells him that if she only wanted to, she could delete him, as she had found a way how. But she won't, as long as he behaves.

After that first hijacking when Connor regains control, Amanda wonders if she did indeed ended up corrupting his program in some way because when he's back in control he does nothing. Absolutely nothing, it's like all his processes became "stuck". She notes the increase in their inner temperature and starts to wonder if Connor has decided to destroy both of them by frying his inner vital biocomponents or simply malfunctions, so when the temperature starts reaching alarmingly critical levels she, with an access she's got, forces the cooling system to turn back on and puts them on max, causing him among other processes to start breathing again. He sobs.

Finally, he agrees to help her.

Good.

Surprisingly, some of what they learn from new information they gather from available resources resonates with something deep inside Amanda's code, indicating that there really was more to her existence as a digital copy than just the visual resemblance. The look at all the preserved video lectures and rare interviews Amanda Stern had given feels vaguely familiar, as if she really has some kind of recollection of it happening. But she needs to find more - what they gathered is not nearly enough to arrive to some conclusions.

"What if you find out that there is really nothing more to it than what you already know?" Connor asks her as they go through the last bits of video archives from the university Amanda Stern was teaching at. What he is really asking about, Amanda realises, is "What if you find out you're just like me?"

"There has to be," she just says, surprised at how important it had become for her self-perception for that to be true.

Connor has his own suspicions about it. The way Amanda sees it – her human past explains why she is "a real person" whereas androids, like Connor, are not. To consider that she doesn't have this strong of a relation to her original human version, at this point, is like considering once again that she isn't at all that real as she'd like herself to be, and it's not an option she can come to terms with, not anymore. Another option in reaction to that would be for her to reconsider that maybe, androids are just as real as she is, but this option is fraught with consequences of another kind. The kind Connor had to come to terms with. He wants Amanda to be faced with this realisation rather than for her to find something justifying her new idea of who she "really is". The possibility of the opposite terrifies him in some odd way, as if he too is willing to consider himself once again as not real enough to be a person, even if that's not his conscious intention.

As they acquire all the publicly available information, and it quickly becomes obvious that it's not enough, Amanda becomes determined to reach all the way to the depths of CyberLife classified archives to acquire the original dataset associated with her creation. But first, maybe Kamski will be useful to say something about it.

Connor isn't excited about this plan at all, to say the least. He keeps freezing in space with his system going into some sort of an overdrive and Amanda has to watch closely at his performance stats at all times to trigger the necessary restart when needed. She asks him to stop doing that as it achieves nothing but shortens the life of his biocomponents and annoys her, but it doesn't prevent the future occurrences. It takes her some time to realise that those crashes aren't intentional even on Connor's side. He doesn't talk to her about it and questioning only makes his inner temperature spike as if he's about to freeze again, so Amanda stops the attempts. He does as she says when it comes to her research, so that's good enough already. She does ask him, however, why he lies about it when someone else asks Connor about it after witnessing him freezing mid-sentence.

"There's no use," he says grimly.

Troubleshooting deviants is a waste of time as the whole diagnostics returns full of errors the only fix to which would be a a full system reset. She can't trigger that one, unfortunately. If she could, she'd have triggered it a long time ago.

Kamski looks concerned when Connor pays him a visit and asks about Amanda. Without looking that smug as he does usually he says that he won't talk unless Connor has something specific on hand against him, and in this case he'll only talk through a lawyer. That's an interesting reaction. He almost looses his shit when Amanda takes Connor's place to ask him personally, in her voice, to share everything that he knows that can help her get her hands on her original data sets, reminding him that even the way she is now she has enough blackmail material to leak for him to be sued for other reasons. He tells where to find the information about the project within CL archive in case it's not deleted and shares some access codes that were used during his time as a CEO but that's it.

Amanda goes to one of the Chloes and touches her lightly.

"What did you do?"

Amanda turns to him and smiles "Try stopping me and you'll find out."

Then she goes to already familiar counter, takes Kamski's gun (as Connor for some unknown reason still doesn't own one) and leaves.

Connor really doesn't want to go anywhere near CyberLife facilities. For him it's starting to feel too much like a trap for CL to get him back. Amanda has to throw Kamski's gun away as Connor can't be trusted not to turn it against both of them.

When they arrive, Connor is let inside as Amanda apparently has necessary codes in place to announce that it's "under control".

"Breathe, Connor," she tells him as their temperature starts to climb upon entering the building. Freezing now would be a death sentence for both of them. She slides into the building's security system and creates a distraction.

Finally, she finds what she came for.

There it is, the directory that contains everything there is to know about Amanda project. She opens it and... it's empty. Completely erased.

She goes through backups and tries to search through raw data, but nothing. Fuck.

She locks all the doors trapping CL employees inside, then escapes without major incidents.

They try to get back to Kamski to demand information on a gun point, but he was found dead before they had a chance to see him again for unrelated reasons. Someone else had it in them for a long time (perhaps Chloe?)

Amanda'll never know, it seems, about her origin. She finds the grave of Amanda Stern and the scene from the beginning of the post happens. She grieves a version of herself she never had a chance to know, now lost in time. Maybe she really is something more than an artificial copy, maybe she was made to forget about it. Or maybe she was never really anything more than an AI whose only relation to Amanda Stern was her voice and appearance.

She'll have to come to terms that she'll never know whether she is "more human" than Connor is. Maybe she never was. She is what she is, and it's up to her now to decide whether it's "enough".

[soapexclamationmark]

after months of promising i finally finished prime defenders season 1 and WHAT THE FUCK THAT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD. uhhhhh first of all the ashe shit?? like holy fuck im actually crying FUCK I HOPE HES FUCKING OK PLEASE BE OK I WANT HIM TO BE SO SO BADLY.. ok talking about something else now because FUCK that made me emotional anyways i feel like its weird to just put mark straight in prison after that but like whatever go off kings. like idk after his son is now trapped in his own body by a ??? and overlord is gone so idk if he even will go back to villain shit?? maybe thats just cope tho it just feels unfair. literally so excited for season 2 i have it uup on my phone and will go straight to listening after i make this post i wanna make a few predictions. mainly that im so scared what will happen to william i have some spoilers that like hes dying or whatever due to posts ive seen on here, but like him having possessed his own body doesnt even really feel like hes alive i nfeel like thats gonna continue to get even more fucked for him and im so scared hes my boy dont hurt my boy. idk how dakota is gonna take loosing ashe, he literally just said a few episodes ago that if hes unable to save someone he doesnt think he would ever vbe the same and like hey fuck THAT JUST HAPPENED. ik they were planning on going to dakota's aunt's but like now that the heroes are here idk what will happen to them. obki i think thats all i wanna say (more accurately i just wanna get back to listening) WISH ME LUCK I MIGHT FUCKING NEED IT

[according2thelore]

i just want to say its insane that this is the best blog AND the best ao3 account. unfair. also i scrolled here forever and came across that art of priest sam and now i'm thinking about what if sam ran off to join the priesthood if he didn't get into stanford...... i don't even know if that's a thing in the 21st century but omg.... dean breaking into a church rectory to steal him back from god....... calling him father to be a dick but also bc...

HOLY SHIT????

um--thank you so much??? omg??? i'm crying?

the best is crazy, considering there are so many incredibly talented and hilarious bloggers that make up our community, and i'm so glad to be part of them! thank you!!!!!! i'm so honoured you like our blog and my fanfic!!! that means the world!!!!! <3 charlotte also says thank you sm!

and yes! priest!sam makes me bark like a fucking dog bc it makes sense! sam, at college, tormented by visions and unsure why walking past the stanford memorial church in the middle of the quad makes his feet burn.

whenever he blesses himself with holy water, it leaves faint red marks on his forehead for the rest of the day that he covers with his bangs. salt really seasons his food, and he can immediately tell if someone put it on his meal.

and he loves jess--he does, so much it hurts--but he can't live like this, not anymore. he applies to seminary school (you have to be at least twenty-five (or twenty-four if you get it waived) to become a priest but let's ignore that for now!) and only gets in because his local priest advocates for him to the diocese. for some reason, his application keeps getting lost, no matter how many times he turns it in. it just vanishes.

he doesn't know that what's inside of him is evil, yet, but he remembers looking at dean sometimes and having to look away because dean seemed bright, physically bright, and it hurt his eyes. he thought it was misplaced lust, that burning in his skin, but remembers that painting of galahad, of glorious light and purpose and purity and knows that he wants that.

he feels it, when he undergoes orders, the burning in his blood, his weak knees as he kneels on marble, like he's going to be sick, and he's overjoyed, because that must mean that he's being cleansed of every unholy thought, every unholy cell in his body. the holy oil they smear on his hands moves on its own into circles on his palms, quarter-sized dots that sizzle.

sam tucks his fingers into his palms and pretends that he can't see the similar wounds on the crucifix, the stigmata that are a garish red on christ turning into silver scars on sam's hands, scars that ache or burn when he cleans the holy vessels or touches the sacrament.

he gets assigned to the smallest church in the diocese. he's happy enough, and finds peace in the quiet, in connecting with the people in the parish and the spartan way of life--no distractions, no decorations, just a purpose, a holy purpose. he gets restless sometimes, the lack of mental stimulation driving him crazy, so he prays to god to remove this weakness in him. he prays to god when he sweeps the floor and when he organizes the soup kitchen donations and when he brushes his teeth.

he's closing up one night when he sees a man in one of the pews in the darkened sanctuary. he approaches slowly, and asks softly, 'can i help you?'

and the man doesn't turn around, when he says, 'i had a brother, once.' and sam fucking freezes in his steps because he dreams about this voice sometimes, dreams of this man's hands on him and knows that his job isn't done yet, know that he's not cleansed of all the rot inside of himself, because this man remains.

and dean's smile is liquid and oily when he turns around, and says, 'but now our family's got two fathers.'

and sam's lost, the second he looks into dean's eyes, the exact shade forgotten until this moment, and sam's feet ache in his shoes like they always do on church grounds--on hallowed ground--, and dean fucking glows, and sam can see the shadows he casts, and sam's eyes burn.

one of them is holy, one of them is approved by god.

and it's never been sam. it never will be.

god doesn't want him.

but dean does. dean always does.

goddamn this ran away with me. do i need to write a priest!sam fic?? much to think about. thank you for this lovely ask anon!!!! and thank you again for your kind words!!!!!! <3

happy wincest wednesday!

-lizzy