#like fuck this stupid fucking world i hate it here

[mamawasatesttube]

how do you deal with liking kon when like especially early on he can be really weird to women? like i’m reading some of the supergirl comics from a list and he keeps talking about her chest and it’s icking me out

well, step one i would say would be to generally not take too many characterization notes for any character from their appearances in crossovers as opposed to their solo runs, if applicable. (and if you're reading supergirl vol 5, "talking about her chest" is unfortunately a feature of jeph loeb's writing. he has everyone do it, from power girl to lex luthor.)

but wrt kon: i tend to keep in mind that the cultural context of the 90s, unfortunately, included a lot of writers who simply did not grasp that flirtation and harassment are not actually the same thing. when you look at the way most of the women kon interacts with are written to respond to him, it's clear that he's supposed to be a flirt. like a stupid flirty fifteen year old boy. he's not written as threatening and he's not generally doing any physical action. he's just saying shit.

unfortunately, many of the adult men writing him (especially, like, jeph loeb) do not know how to write a boy flirting with a girl without making him come off like a massive fucking creep. this is especially true in comics where he makes side appearances rather than his actual solo, bc in his actual solo you'll see him continue to make stupid horny 15yo boy jokes but overall he's also trying really hard to be a good boyfriend to tana and whatnot. however, in crossovers, writers probably were just told "haha horny teenage boy" and went "oh well here's what i'd say if i was a horny teenage boy" and it can def be uncomfortable to read. certain writers (cough cough jeph loeb, and also sam loeb, honestly what is with all these loebs) are worse about this than others, but it definitely can get grating, so i get that. but it's def worse in crossovers than in his actual main book. like, Significantly Worse. so i tend to attribute that to bitch-ass creep writers simply not comprehending that you can be flirty without being a fucking creep.

it would be different if, like, the girls/women around him were written to react with horror/disgust/discomfort, but in the majority of cases i would say they just kind of laugh it off? which is def again like. male writers being stupid, on the one hand, but on the other it is telling to me that the intent is for him to come off as a nonthreatening, flirty/horny teenager. like rocket actively makes fun of him for flirting with her while she's pregnant, in worlds collide. and, again, a lot of these things were written 30 years ago, so they def can read as pretty dated, and i get that; i would just say that my personal interpretation of him is pretty heavily colored by his solo, and much less so by crossovers by writers who seemed to use him as free reign to be misogynistic creeps. which i do hate reading, too, so i do sympathize - i just think it kinda comes down to how men writing "flirtation" in the 90s comes off when reading today + authorial intent vs actuality of what is written.

[pyxrin]

All In Against the House

Aka: A demigod runs into the Task Force 141 while on an undeciphered quest. Unbeknownst to her, she rapidly becomes the only wildcard able to give them the chance to win as the underdogs they have yet to realize they are.

AN: This is my cod/pjo crossover fic I got an itch for, so I started writing this and couldn't stop lmao. Didn't edit, and didn't play the games. This is also my first full blown fic, expect errors. Also haven't decided how long I want chapters to be, but expect them on the longer side. Enjoy! ^-^

4330 words

Chapter 1: Lucky Hates Mexico, but the People Trying to Kill Her are Worse

Not here either.

Lucky has decided that she doesn't really like Mexico. Las Almas at least. It's dusty and brown, but not brown in the way that movies portray Mexico. It's brown in the rotting wood way. In the hundreds of pounds of dirt that coat her already shabby clothes way. In the grimy windows that are barred by similarly brown rusty bars way. However, she can live with brown. Lucky has been everywhere, continental US at least, so she's used to all kinds of colors.

What she isn't used to is not finding what she's looking for. Or rather who. This is the tenth mostly abandoned building she's searched, and her dad wasn't in any one of them. Lucky doesn't know how much longer she can take it. The anticipation of the mostly silent night, broken by the incessant wind, and the knowledge that there are people with guns is killing her.

With every passing minute, she sweats more cold sweat, her hands shake more, and she is this close to crying. This whole town is terrifying and Lucky can't wait to leave, but she can't leave without her dad. She has no clue why that stupid prophecy led her here in the first place!

Lucky has never been unlucky enough to not find something or someone. Normally she doesn't even have to try, so that must mean that her dad isn't here. As such, she should definitely, totally, leave. The gunshots only work to cement her rapidly forming plan to get the hell out of Dodge.

She yelps as the distant sound echoes and crouches down below the windowsill. Lucky's heart pounds as she feels the adrenaline course through her veins. Everything becomes sharper, and the world becomes clearer. Demigod senses and all. 

She takes a moment to collect her very limited nerves before peeking through the window. The coast is clear. Lucky cracks open the door and pokes her head through. She looks both ways before dashing out, instinctively going left. Lucky doesn't need a plan, she just needs to follow her gut, which has never steered her wrong before. Maybe she can steal a car or something. This is as good a time as any to learn how to drive, yeah?

 Lucky sprints through the alleyways, doing her best to be quiet and stick to the shadows. Even if she has weapons, she's never been good at fighting, especially when it's bronze knuckles vs guns. She sees a couple guys down the alley she just turned down. Big fuckers with big guns. Lucky panics. Sure, they're not monsters, but they're just as scary.

She ducks behind the corner of the building. They didn't see her, but if she doesn't do something soon, they will, and they will try to kill her, and Lucky really really doesn't want them to try to kill her. She will cry. And if they kill her, she won't be able to find and possibly save her dad, and if she can't save her dad, whatever stupid fucking cartel that's coming after him will kill him, and they will both be dead and forgotten by everyone who knew them and doomed to spend eternity in the worst, most boring ass afterlife in Hades, who is probably already mad at Lucky because she fully thought he was gray with blue fire hair. Was the other side of the alleyway always as close as it is now? It feels like no matter how deep a breath she takes, she can't get enough air. Shit. She can't be doing this now! Lucky thought she was getting better! That was the whole reason why she thought she was ready to go on this stupid quest! She can't just freeze up and stop breathing every time she encounters an enemy she can't run away or hide from. Fuck! What was that thing that Chiron taught her? Senses! Focus on her senses!

She tastes saliva and dirt, which is wholly unhelpful. She hears the wind whistling through the city, the pounding of her heart, her labored breathing, small chatter, and the crunch of boots on ground that is steadily getting louder. Wait, louder!? Lucky is fucked. So incredibly fucked. What's next? Lucky feels the chill of the night wind, the sweat on her palms, and the roughness of the wall she's pressed up against. Lucky sees very little, but there is a pretty rock right by her feet, about the size of her hand. 

Wait, a rock!

Lucky picks up the rock, leans around the corner where both men are thankfully distracted and not looking, and chucks the rock as far and as hard as she possibly can. It sails over their heads and crashes into some unseen pile of what sounds like metal cans. The two soldiers whip around and immediately race off to find the source. She hears them say something something soap and something something ghost. Are they giving a ghost a bath? Weird.

She doesn't pay it any more mind as she's too busy slipping by into another side street. She takes a moment to catch her breath, leaning against the wall. Her heart rate finally starts going down. That thing that Chiron taught her actually really helped, even if she totally forgot what it’s called. Lucky was actually able to find and solution to her problem instead of just running away. Maybe she can actually do this whole quest thing, even if there's bumps along the way.

Once back to a relative baseline, Lucky stands back to her full height and glances around for an idea of what to do next. She turns to face back just as the soldiers she thought she properly distracted come around where she came from. They look at her. She looks at them. Lucky takes in a large gulp of air.

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!”

Soap perks up, dropping the body he just took out. The entirety of Las Almas should've been under military control, and that sounded like a girl's scream. What the hell are civvies doing here? Soap doesn't have time or opportunity to worry about whatever war crimes Graves and his men are committing when he and Ghost were minutes away from joining the list of casualties. Hell, it could even be a trap. Who knows what that wanker's thinking?

The girl will have to be one of the many who haunt Soap after he's gone back to his bed and everything's gone quiet. When he can't help but think about the decisions made and the roads not taken. He grabs anything of use from the bodies before moving in the direction of the church. Ghost is waiting.

He doesn't get far before the girl he was seconds away from abandoning comes flying at him considerably faster than he expected her to. She's just a wee thing. Mousey. Or maybe more rabbit-ey with that pink bandana on her head and the edges of the bow bouncing like that. Certainly a civilian currently being chased by close to a dozen Shadows. It's a wonder she isn't dead yet. All of this passes through Soap's brain in an instant, interrupted only by the girl shouting. “RUN, BITCH! RUN!”

It may be the group of Shadows hot on both of their tails now, but he does exactly as she says.

Lucky doesn't know why she trusts Mohawk, but she does, despite all previous experiences giving her a major distrust in any body that upholds the law. She doesn't know where she picked up the extra soldiers either, but it doesn't matter. They just have to find a place to hide. Hopefully their now bad luck will kick in soon.

She follows Mohawk past a lost car and into the alley just by it. She hears the bullets fly by her to hit the car, as well as a small hissing that she ignores. Lucky glances around and gets an idea, and with how she's slowly catching up to her new friend, she can share the plan too. “Boost me! Left wall!” It's a sheer wall, but the building is low enough that she can scramble up there with a boost.

Mohawk doesn't immediately show signs of hearing her, but he does turn on his feet and interlock his fingers, a perfect jumping pad. Lucky continues her sprint, hopping into his hands and leaping to the edge. The soldier doesn't so much as grunt. She pulls herself up and over in an instant. However, she ain't gonna leave him hanging, so she leans over the edge and holds out her hand.

Mohawk looks suspicious, but the sounds of the rapidly approaching other soldiers changes his mind fast. We'll, as far as Lucky can tell. He jumps and grabs onto her hand. “HO-ly shit! What do they feed you?” This bitch is heavy! With a considerable effort, she is able to tug him up enough for him to grab the ledge.

He's just able to get up there when an explosion echoes in the area, followed closely by screams. Lucky steels herself enough for a peek and finds that that car exploded, the fire and debris blocking the area, as well as a few bodies. An event surely caused by misfortune. She cringes and flops back onto the roof. She didn't think that she would enjoy the feel of shitty gravel digging into her back as much as she is, but clearly a near death experience was enough to give her a fresh perspective on the subject. 

She turns her head to Mohawk who looks like he's buffering. She's used to that look. She sees it a lot when people hang out with her. Demigods or not, none are ever really prepared for her, as Dionysus lovingly calls them, ‘batshit crazy, loony tunes ass shenanigans.’ She can only imagine what a mortal would think. Lucky decides that now is as good a time as any for introductions, if only to distract from the sorta magic she just used.

“Hi, I'm Lucky, well, my real name is Lucille, but everyone calls me Lucky! Nice to meet you. Probably would've been better if we weren't getting shot at, but nothing to change that now. Sorry. I talk a lot. At least I’m entertaining! Most of the time; I’ve been told to shut up a whole lot over the past couple years. It kinda sucks, but I understand, not everyone likes listening to a yapper. Actually, I think I’m gonna take their advice now and shut up. Sorry.” Lucky talks even more than normal when nervous,and the more she talks the more likely she is to overshare. Lucky doesn’t want to give away her life story to this stranger, for a multitude of reasons, so being quiet is definitely the best option, despite how she itches to speak and words bubble just below the surface.

Mohawk decides on what to say, for some reason. Introductions aren't that hard, and she knows that he knows English because he did what she said earlier. Her musings are interrupted when he finally huffs. “Steamin’ Jesus, Ahve ne’er bin on a op this weird. Ahm Soap.”

She takes a moment, asks him to repeat what he said. He does, the last part at least, but that doesn’t help at all. Lucky frowns. She... didn't understand a word of what Mohawk said. Like. At all. She's been in life and death situations before, and her ears worked perfectly fine then, and it doesn't feel like she's having a stroke. Aren’t you supposed to smell toast when that happens? Lucky smells nothing but gunpowder, dust, and the burning car. Not that she knows what strokes feel like, or smell like, for that matter. There's only one possibility left. "Did my dyslexia move to my ears?" She asks herself quietly.

He must've heard her because Mohawk bursts out laughing. It makes Lucky jump and her heart rate spike for a moment before she calms. Mostly. She thinks he's much too loud when there are other big ass soldiers on the hunt for them. He's doing like a full-on belly laugh, and Lucky didn't even make a joke! "Ahm Scottish, ye wee lass!" She stares blankly at him for a full minute before she’s able to figure out what the hell he just said. It dawns on her. Lucky’s eyes widen and her mouth drops. She points at him.

“Oooh! You’re Scottish! Fuck!” She exclaims. This is bad. Lucky is very stupid, and even if her dyslexia hasn’t officially migrated to her ears too, yet, the ADHD that comes with the whole demigod thing makes piecing anything that takes more than a modicum of effort incredibly difficult. Wait. what she just said probably sounds really insulting now that she’s thinking about it, and she really doesn’t want to make an enemy of her new friend. “Wait wait wait! I swear I wasn’t trying to insult you or your heritage. I think Europeans are cool! Not that I’ve met all that many, but still! Really it’s my bad because I’m kinda dumb and really bad at words and shit, so it can be hard for me to know what people say sometimes, especially with heavy accents. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad! Please don’t try to kill me!” She waves her hands wildly in the hopes of conveying her sincerity.

Lucky’s panicked rambling causes Soap to panic. He just got this girl, and they are in an incredibly dangerous situation; he does not need her freaked out and likely to add to the already very high risk they’re in. He puts his hand over her mouth. She quiets and blinks at him owlishly. “Relax. Ahm Soap.” Lucky finds that his accent isn't as thick this time. Thankfully, she can actually understand him.

After a moment, he removes his hand, but not before staring at her intently to make sure she doesn't restart her tirade. She doesn't. Instead Lucky spouts the first thing that comes to mind. “Like the thing you should never ever drop in the prison showers?” 

Soap sighs heavily and holds his breath to keep his chuckles at bay. It is criminal how good Lucky is at disarming situations “Aye.” She nods with a grim expression. Lucky thinks it's a very unfortunate nickname. Poor guy, he seems like a very nice person, and having a silly nickname is an easy way for people to make fun of someone. She could also see people making fun of his mohawk. 

Lucky figures that this is as good a time as any to ask the important questions. “So what now? Do you have a way out and can I come with?” She prays to her mom that he says yes to both questions. She can’t wait to get out of this fucking city.

“Maybe and aye. Ye were coming with me anyway. No place for a civvie.” He seems to say that last part quietly, but it doesn’t escape Lucky’s ears. She doesn't know what a civvie is, but it feels insulting. Whatever it is, she doesn't want to be it. She can ask him about it later, when they aren't hiding from soldiers who want them dead. 

She peeks over the edge. The coast seems to be clear, and Lucky knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. (Are gift horses prone to biting?) She waves Soap over, who pokes his head over the edge beside her. He jumps down and looks up at her, holding out his arms as if he wants to catch her. As if!

Lucky has fallen down larger heights before, imagine her getting help for going down a building that's barely two stories tall? Insulting. Lucky sticks out her tongue at him and jumps down herself. She lands in a perfect tuck and roll. She didn't have to, but she wanted to show off. Lucky has to impress her new friend. They can be hard to find when it feels like every third person who shows interest in her is actually a monster who wants to eat her or some shit.

She dusts herself off and gestures for Soap to go ahead of her. The flaming car blocks the way they came, so the only way is through the maze of alleyways. Soap walks ahead, murmuring something about a lost bird. Lucky couldn't hear him all that well over the ambient noise. Are all military guys this weird? She kinda hopes she doesn't find out. 

Lucky follows Soap, yapping the whole way. “Y'know if every town in Mexico is like this one, I don't wanna come back, but I kinda have to stay in the country for a while until I find my dad. Or I guess I figure out what my actual quest is. I have the prophecy written on a paper, but I'm not very good at figuring out riddles. I think it means that I'm supposed to find my dad. I hope it does at least. I miss him.”

Soap occasionally replies, but his focus seems to be split between her, finding their way, and talking to the demons in his head. He doesn't tell her to shut up though, which is nice. Lucky does earn herself some very weird looks, which makes sense considering that she's talking about demigod stuff, which she really shouldn't, but it's not like it makes a difference. He won't understand. 

“I feel like we totally should've just stuck to the roofs. They're more fun and it's not like anyone looks up anyways. It's safer. Besides, then I can do some cool flips and shit. I know how to do a back-flip and a front-flip. They honestly weren't that hard to learn, but you have to just fully commit to it-” Soap has gotten really comfortable with just putting a hand over her mouth. Lucky is tempted to lick it in retaliation. Not yet.

She learns the reason he did that when she hears the chatter. Lucky freezes. She hopes that Soap knows what to do. She assumes that he does when he pushes her into the shadows, and the wall that is a foot or so inside them. Normally, the brunette girl isn’t quite so happy to be manhandled, but given that she is in mortal danger, she is more than happy to be pushed around if it makes her safer. He gives her a stern look before slipping away.

Lucky doesn't bother to ignore the sounds of flesh being cut into and the soft splatters of blood on the cobbled street. As long as the blood and gore isn't her blood and gore or the blood and gore of people she cares about, she's okay. She comes around the corner, stepping around the bodies with a little “Excuse me. Sorry. Coming through. Good stab? Yeah, good stab, Soap.” She also ignores the weird look Soap gives her. What? Is he not used to fully grown, and most definitely mostly matured adults being desensitized to viscera? Whatever. “So where are we even going? Are we gonna jack a car or something?”

Soap clears his throat and starts walking again, Lucky picking up the pace to keep up with his long ass legs. “Aye, we probably will. We're meeting up with a mate o' mine at the church over there.” He gestures vaguely in the direction they're going in. 

“You were talking to someone!? Not gonna lie, I kinda thought that you were going crazy or something, not that I would've minded. … Okay, I would've minded a little. I just don't wanna get axe murdered! You know what I mean? Is your friend a ghost?” Lucky asks amongst other things. To his credit, Soap doesn't seem surprised in the slightest, and after a moment of what seems to be intense concentration, he replies.

“...Aye, kind of. How did ye ken that?” He stops walking, turns around, and eyes her up and down. Just a quick glance, but it's more than enough to set Lucky’s nerves of edge. She must've said something to upset him. Lucky hopes it's not to the point that he wants to kill her.

“Sorry! Don't be mad! Before I ran into you I heard some of the soldiers talking about finding some soap and a ghost. Since you're the soap, I figured your friend would be the ghost.” She explains hurriedly. Soap nods and resumes walking. Lucky breathes a sigh of relief. She passed the test. She bounces after him.

 In an unspecified amount of time which could've ranged anywhere from five minutes to 45, Lucky has actually gotten Soap to open up to her a little! He even asked about her deck of cards that she had pulled out during that time to fidget with. She said that it's a gift from her dad and her most prized possession, great for magic tricks too! They’re coming up on the church. She can see it over the roofs of some of the buildings, and they haven't even encountered any more of those bitch ass soldiers who suck at taking out two guys and her. She legally gets to make fun of them because they're not here and can’t hurt her

Maybe the real missing dad, and the object of her quest, were the friends she made along the way. Actually… maybe Lucky doesn't really want Soap to be her dad or missing. Soap would probably be one of her older brothers if anything, the kind that would throw her head first in a pool, then Lucky would flail around uselessly, he would immediately panic and jump in to save her. She would bleach his hair while he sleeps in retaliation.

They resume their journey to the unnamed church to meet with Casper and get the fuck out of this shit town. Maybe she can take them with her? Being at camp has gotten her used to having people around and not having people around for the past few months has been hard. No matter what happens, Lucky will follow Soap.

Lucky almost curses again upon seeing the amount of soldiers just idling about. Waiting for them certainly. “Shadows.” Soap murmurs. Lucky wants to correct him because those are people and that's an edge lord ass name if that's what their group is called. He leads her off to the side, they jump over a white car and over a fence. They slip into a shop where Soap scrounges around for… stuff? Lucky doesn't know, but he finds something he likes. She respects the stealing grind regardless.

Lucky watches his piece the stuff together quickly. That look in his eyes really reminds her of the kid who made her brass knuckles. She taps her fingers on her legs anxiously. Even if her nerves weren't as high as they are, she needs something to do. Not even a minute passes and Soap finishes with his tinkering. Oh she really wants to talk right now, to cut the tension which feels electric. She walks over to the side by the counter, drumming on it.

Soap starts opening the door, and her senses sharpen again. The world slows down, and the glint of a gun flashes in the low light. A gun just past the door Soap is opening. He's going to get shot. Cold fear freezes her core. It isn't like her normal fear, which is jittery and overwhelming. That fear causes her to run for her life. This fear causes her to act. Lucky can't lose anyone else, certainly not someone who she's only just got the chance to know. 

Her body moves before her mind does. Lucky drives forward, ramming her shoulder into Soap's gut. With adrenaline, demigod strength, and her own musculature behind her, she has enough strength to tackle him to the side just as the door bursts open. Lucky feels a pressure in her side as a shot goes off. They both hit the ground with a thud. 

Lucky pushes off of his chest and whirls around, digging her toes into the floor to take out the monster before it can take them out. Before she can change her rings into their bronze knuckles form, another shot rings out and the monster collapses. Her chest heaves, but Lucky knows it isn't over yet. Those gunshots surely alerted the other monsters in the area. 

She stands as Soap does. He claps her back with a quick, “Thanks, lass,” but his gaze is sharp and she hears a muffled voice through his earpiece. Before she knows what's going on, he tugs her into a full sprint. They burst out of the door and Soap throws what he was working on. It explodes and smoke billows out.

Chaos erupts. She can't see shit, but she hears every last shout and firing of a gun. Lucky feels Soap's tight grip on her wrist as he pulls her, her legs are pumping and she keeps pace, her head ducked. 

They leave the smoke, dodging and weaving between any cover they can get to. Lucky's luck keeps bullets away, but they still have to be on their toes. Soap fires back some of his own. Lucky looks to their destination, a truck idling.

A bullet whizzes by her and smacks into the truck just as they get in arm's reach of it. Soap pulls the door open and all but throws Lucky in before jumping in himself, shutting the door as the driver peels out.

Lucky looks up at the incredibly large man, larger than Soap even, from her sprawled out, partially pinned state. Even his side profile is intimidating. This must be Casper. Soap turns around to keep shooting behind them, at the Shadows trying to stop their getaway, and Lucky tries to scramble out from under him, only to hiss in pain. She glances down to see a bloody hole in her side only partially hidden by her large unzipped jacket. 

“Fuck!”

[ghostyypawzz]

i hate it.

ihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateit

earlier today i went through old videos of me as a child with my dad. staring at it i couldn’t help but wonder if any of them like how i am now. if any of them expected me to turn out so horrible. i was so happy. i didn’t care. i liked living, i felt nice, i had no issues because i didn’t remember them. the giggles and cheers and broken words from me were so unfamiliar.

he turned to me and just said “it was like a switch flipped when you turned 6 and you cut yourself off from the world”

fuck

why can’t i just disappear? why is this so fucking hard? it hurts. it hurts so badly.

everyday i wake up i feel like a husk. im a walking corpse, i go through the motions of living.

i mimic what i see, i act how i want to be, i hide how rotten i am. i’m disgusting. i’m a disgusting roach and a parasite in people’s lives.

a piece of trash.

i hate looking at myself. my personality, my looks, the way i speak, all of it is so off-putting. i know it is.

the way people stare when i talk and lean in to hear, the way they giggle when i say something stupid. understanding people is so complicated i hate it. i want to pick apart my brain and find where i went wrong. i try to articulate myself differently but i can’t seem to figure it out.

i wish everyone would leave me, i’ve deluded them into thinking that i’m worth staying for, why can’t you see how terrible i am? why can’t you hate me? i hate this feeling. i want to cry but i can’t anymore.

i miss being happy but i’ve been absent from life for so long

i hate that people think anything good about me, i’m a liar and a deceiver. stop wasting energy on me and find better people, stop it just stop. you can see how much of a self loathing person i am so just let me be. it’s obvious i can’t get better, find better people. don’t settle for me.

please just kill me already

when i die, i want it to be a spectacle. i want people to laugh and cheer and smile fondly at it.

how terrible

i sound fucking insane i’m so stupid hah

whenever i grab the letters, the ones they didn’t find and read over them i can’t help but feel a pit. paragraphs of plans, letters, guides of what to do after i’m gone. they never found the most recent one, they found the ones with half-hearted words and comfort. not the ones with messy words.

oh how i wish to not have the want, the worry of being seen in a vulnerable sight

i want warmth but i’ve been so cold for years

what a fucking joke.

im in hell, this is hell. am i even here? what the fuck is going on??? why did this have to happen to me? why am i so fucked up? why do i cause so many issues and spread pain?

please leave me.

well whatever

i’ll shut up now, i need to. i’m just going to say everything’s fine now.

i’m better than ever

i’m happy so people can stop worrying about me, okay? im not doing anything and im not going anywhere. this is just a phase of my life.

i’ve gotten better.

[raileurta]

Momma Arachnid

Okay firstly go read this fic for context plus it's amazing, cute, and I would give my liver for a sequel.

The thing I want to focus on is this specific part: “Arachnid: literally couldn't care less. Until she finds MECH, they are her murderous babies now. Likes to steal Jack for play dates.” This concept is amazing, Arachnid comes to earth to fuck with Arcree only to end up with like 20+ children.

When she meets Jack and chases him through the forest her spark is not really in it. She's not nearly getting as much enjoyment as she would think from this. Then when Jack blows up her ship Arachnid wasn't even really mad, she was a little annoyed but mostly ugh fond of him now. Obviously put off by this as she hasn't felt any sort of positive emotion towards someone else when they weren't screaming in pain. So the femme desperately tries to find stuff to make her more disgusted by humans only for it to backfire horribly. She founds out about the war worlds, our many torture techniques, the violence™️, and of course MECH. This just makes Arachnid only more hopelessly endeared by humans, especially this group who's actively trying to kill transformers. Arachnid knows when she's lost so she sets up the distress signal and waits for her new children to arrive.

Here's some headcanons now

Has a web set up in a spare room at MECH that she uses as her nest.

Extremely extremely possessive of her spiderling cluster and will venomously hate any bot that even looks in their direction.

Doesn't really know how to give physical affection. So she just awkwardly gives head pats, slightly strokes someone's back or just holds them.

When Arachnid is really content she'll purr.

One time a soldier accidentally called Arachnid mom and while she didn't have an outward reaction outside of freezing for a moment internally she was crying tears of joy.

Likes to carry mech members on her back like a wolf spider. MECH actually made magnetized shoes and gloves so people could hold on better.

Arachnid does horrible dad jokes but she says them in such a way everyone ends up laughing. She also does plenty of dark humor.

Will regularly kill local wild life and bring it back to feed her kids. MECH will actually eat them and have specifically hired someone to clean/cook the animals.

(My past Miguel stuff is definitely influencing some of these headcanons)

Has to constantly hold back the urge of grooming her humans when she sees them dirty. They wouldn't appreciate being licked and she really doesn't want to taste unclean humans. In fact she doesn't want to know what humans taste like at all!

Arachnids nicknames for MECH members: Spiderlings, ankle biters, murder children, sparklings, stupid kids (affectionate), and my babies.

[evorlaah]

2SOON; (TEASER.)

PARING: Female reader, Heeseung

Synopsis: Since your breakup, Heeseung’s life has been a downward spiral of parties and regret. One night, fate brings you back together outside a bar, reopening old wounds and unresolved feelings.

WARNINGS ⚠️ : non!idolheeseung, female reader, angst, angst, angst, angst, mentions of alcohol and smoking, strong language, toxic coping mechanisms (I think that’s it 😭?)

Every night was the same for Heeseung since your breakup in February. Parties, drinks, and the burn of cigarettes down his throat had become his only source of distraction. A desperate attempt to fill the void you left behind.

“Can you give me a shot of something? I don’t care what it is.” He muttered to the bartender, voice rough and tired.

Jake who was standing nearby noticed his behavior and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to reel him back. “Heeseung, that’s enough. We need to go home.”

Heeseung shrugged him off with a glare on his face, his frustration bubbling over. “Just one more shot, Jake. It’s not the end of the fucking world. I’m a grown-ass man.”

He snapped, the words slicing through the haze of the music and chatter.

Jakes concern lingered, but Heeseung didn’t care. “Whatever man, you can’t keep doing this stupid shit. Call me when you’re ready to go.” Jake says before walking away. Heeseung watches him leave, his figure disappearing into the crowd. He scoffed, grabbing the drink his bartender slid his way. “Heres to fucking nothing.” He said bitterly before drowning it in one swift motion.

The burn spread through his chest but wasn’t enough to drown the ache in his heart. You.

His eyes scanned the room, blurry faces and empty laughter blending together. He hated this- he hated the noise, the fake smiles, and especially himself. A memory of you flashed in his mind, your laugh so vivid it almost felt real. Heeseung blinked hard, trying to shake it off, but it only made him aware of how lost he feels without you.

He stumbled outside, the cool night air hitting his face like a slap. Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette with shaky hands but his lighter didn’t budge, “fuck” he said before staring up at the sky. The stars were the only constant in a life that felt like it was falling apart.

“Why do you still haunt me?” he whispered to no one, his voice cracking under the weight of the question.

“Heeseung?”

The sound of his name startled him, low and tentative, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. Heeseung turns his head.

It was you.

You stood a few feet away from him, wrapped in a leather jacket that was too big for you. It wasn’t yours. He blinked as he looked at the jacket and then back at your face unsure if he was hallucinating. “Y/n?”

You hesitated, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I..I thought it was you,” you said quietly. “Didn’t think I’d find you out here like this.”

Heeseung lets out a dry laugh, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be? This is me now. I’m fucked up.”

Your eyebrow’s furrowed, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit, but you stayed silent.

“Nice jacket by the way.” He says before taking a cigarette from his pocket and flicking the lighter multiple times until a mini flame burns.

You glanced down at the oversized jacket that’s draped over your shoulder, your grip tightening the fabric. “It's not mine,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung smirks faltered, replaced by something unreadable. He took another drag from his cigarette, the glow illuminating his face. “Figures,” he muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Guess you moved on quicker than I thought.”

Your heart sank at his words. “It’s not like that Heeseung,” you said softy stepping closer.

He turned his head away, avoiding your gaze. “Then what is it, huh? What the fuck it’s like your haunting me. Why are you even here?.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The truth was, you didn’t know why you were there. Something about seeing him stumble out of the bar, looking so lost and broken, made it impossible to walk away.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly.

Heeseung let out a bitter laugh, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Yeah? Well, take a good look. This is me now. A fucking mess. You can go back and tell whoever gave you that jacket.”

His words stung, but you stood your ground. “Stop pushing people away, Heeseung. I know you’re hurting—”

“You don’t know shit Y/n!” he snapped, his voice rising as he threw the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his shoe. “You don’t get to act like you care after you fucking left me!”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of traffic in the distance. Heeseung’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair.

“I never stopped caring,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible tears forming.

His head shot up, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, the anger in his expression faltered, replaced by something softer—something vulnerable.

But before he could respond, you took a step back, wrapping the jacket tighter around yourself. “Take care of yourself, Heeseung,” you said, your voice steady now, though your heart felt like it was in your ass.

You turned to leave, your footsteps echoing in the empty alley, and for the first time in months, Heeseung felt the weight of regret press down on him like a vice.

[vengeful4ever]

I start school again tmr, if my pe teacher talk to me I'm going to rip my uterus out right in front of him I'm dead fucking serious

[trappedinafantasy37]

All forms of media (video games, TV shows, art, movies, books, etc) are all meant to be social and/or political commentaries. In fact, I can't think of an example of a recent creation that isn't political in some way. And Baldur's Gate 3 is not an exception. It is political. And if you think it is not, it is because you are not paying attention, or you are failing to extrapolate the lessons of the game into real life. One of the points of fiction and entertainment is to provide us with a safe way to view and interact with the evils of the world. To show us how evil happens to begin with, and how it is allowed at all. If we can see what evil looks like, and how it comes to pass, then we will be able to recognize it in real life and potentially stop it.

No, I'm not saying that Larian made this game to be a commentary of the US specifically. The things that happen in the game are happening somewhere in the world. Right. Now. It is fantasy for some, but reality to many others.

There is a reason why so many people, most especially women, flock to a character like Astarion. And no, it's not just because he's a pretty bad boy vampire. But because millions of women (and men) in the world understand what it's like to be sexually assaulted. To be enslaved. To be someone's property and a toy. To be used and abused and denied your autonomy. To scream and cry and yell and shout and beg for mercy from the gods. But no one is listening. No one cares. And they say that it is all your fault. Women cling to him because they find comfort in his story and they see a reflection of themselves in him. And they have extrapolated his character into their personal lives to help them heal from their traumas. Astarion is not real. But he represents the millions of people in the world who have been raped.

There are many different ways you can interpret Shadowheart's story, but I always found it to be an allegory for queerness / transness. She knows who she is deep down, but she has been beaten and indoctrinated over and over to believe that who she is wrong. Everytime she exerted a will of her own, she was forced into conversion therapy and had her mind wiped so she can be reprogrammed. And when that began to fail, her god inserted a permanent tether into her soul. To remind her that god is always watching, and will punish her for her sins. Shadowheart rejects Shar because she feels that she is in a safe environment to do so. That those who are around her will not judge her, ridicule her, or treat her like she ha a moral failure for just being who she is. But that rejection comes at a price where she has to choose her parents or chronic pain for the rest of her life. But if Shadowheart does not feel safe to live as herself, she goes into the closet forever and denies herself and has to put up an act for as long as she may live. She forces herself to subscribe to this dogma because she feels she has no other choice, and to be a blind follower means to be without pain. Shadowheart is not real. But she represents the millions of gay and trans people in the world who have been outcasted and abused by religion and the law. Where they feel it safer to deny who they are, then run the risk of the wrong person finding out who they love.

The grove conflict, is a very real reality right now. Innocent people are experiencing a genocide. And the people conducting such genocide have framed these innocent people as evil monsters. These actual literal genocidal lunatics truly to their core believe that they have the god given right to kill these innocent people because they are an affront to their god and that the land they occupy does not belong to them. There are children in the world right now who are burning alive in a genocide because the people who are burning them believe these children to have been born evil. Of course they claim that these refugees are hiding weapons of mass destruction, how else are they going to justify destroying safe places like schools, hospitals, and actual refugee camps? And the people who have the power to do something to protect these innocent refugees, would rather they be tossed out and left vulnerable to their murderers, because that is more convenient than helping them. That the people who can help are purposefully closing their borders, because they too see these refugees as lures for danger. The tieflings are not real. But they represent the millions of Palestinians and many others who are dying in a genocide right now.

And this man is not real, but he is the president elect of the United States. Gortash won. The Absolute won.

And I wish we had a simple and easy explanation of 72 million Americans have tadpoles in their brains and were forced to vote for Gortash. But in reality, not everyone in the Absolute had a tadpole. Not everyone was a True Soul. A mass majority were willing participants of the Absolute. They never once communed with the elder brain and have never received direct orders from it. They saw what the Absolute is, they saw what it can do, and it was not a deal breaker for them. They chose to follow along with it willingly, thinking that the Absolute was here for them. They were not mind controlled, but they were brainwashed in their own way. And for those who are not brainwashed, they simply do not care. They want to revel in the Absolute's cruelty and how it is going to hurt the people of the world because they themselves want to deal the cruelty.

Gortash is a slaver and a tyrant and he is very up front and in your face about it. He feels no guilt, he feels no shame, and he is well aware of how he induces suffering on those around him. And the moment he became Archduke, he slaughtered everyone who got him into power because he didn't want to share it nor run the risk of them turning against him. You may be able to make a deal with Gortash but he was never going to keep up his end of the bargain. Just like an embraced Durge betrays their romance partner, Gortash would have betrayed you (and even Durge). Because tyrants do not share, and they do not step down. Tyrants are not just tyrants only on day one or for just one term. They are tyrannical always and will do everything they can to stay in power permanently. Tyrants do not play fair. They get into power through perceivingly legitimate means. But when you find out it wasn't legitimate, it's too late. They've removed your ability to not only remove them from power, but prevent you from getting anyone else to replace them.

Gortash didn't just come from nowhere. He has been a duke in the city for a very long time. People know who he is and what he is about. The people at his coronation were there out of genuine support for him, knowing exactly who he is and saw no issue with what he was doing because they all benefited from it. The only one at that coronation who was not a willing participate, was Ulder Ravengard (A BLACK MAN). Gortash used a literal puppet government to get himself into power and silenced all dissent.

I do not know about you, but who Gortash represents was pretty damn obvious to me. The game demonstrated how people like Gortash can get into power at all and remain in power. Gortash manipulated people's fear of the world, and he used religion to do it. He implemented the Steel Watch and militarized the police, and to have constant surveillance on the people. Where any slight transgression will be met with hostility, and the people will cheer because they see violence as a necessary means of keeping the peace. Where if you just didn't step out of line, then maybe the Steel Watcher wouldn't need to pulverize you in the street. He uses the media and is constantly pumping out propaganda to love him. He created a problem, news of the problem spread, and then he sold a solution. He promised to keep everyone safe, protected, and made promises of law and order against this unruly chaos (a chaos he created). Where any opposing opinion is othered and regarded as being too radical to be a sane or legitimate opinion. He enslaved a group of racial minorities and used the livelihoods of their children as collateral. And instead of putting the blame on the slaver, radicals like Wulbren put the blame on the slaves.

The events surrounding Gortash and the Absolute have been unfolding here in the States for a very long time and all of this did not just come out of nowhere. This didn't just start happening 8 years ago in 2016, this was decades in the making and there is still plans for more to come. This wasn't an accident, everything is working by design.

Gortash is not real. But Donald Trump is. That should scare you.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Well, at least Fukuzawa got his wish granted, I guess.... he's finally inside Fukuchi <3

[fightwing]

bruce immediately asking if he hurt dick after days spent infected yeah okay dc i see this and i raise you: 😭😭😭

[moe-broey]

GOD I would HATE to be stuck at a family dinner with them 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I would NOT fucking survive, the vibes alone would do 1000 points poison damage to me 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Also JUST. JUST.

THE VIBES. ARE RANCID. SHARENA DARLING YOU DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER THAN THIS (ALFPNSE TOO BUT DEAR LORD. Sharena LITERALLY was just told to Don't Speak Unless Spoken To RANCID. RANCID FUCKING FAMILY)

[lil-may0nnaise-xd]

At this point it’s literally just there for good publicity points, don’t fucking convince me otherwise.

[miiiwu]

.

[crimeronan]

probably i SHOULDN'T migrate elsewhere if tumblr goes belly-up. i just scrolled thru my dash for 20 minutes and in that short span i could feel myself transform from a mildly tired 27-year-old butch into an active serial killer.

[crowcryptid]

Certified florida moment.

[silverhalla]

every day that I wake up in emprise du lion is another day I get closer to storming the black city to take down the maker himself

[thequibblingking13]

The modern gaming industry pisses me off so bad.