#like he's not bad-bad but at the same time he's also very bad

[winterferger]

Okay, so. I have a lot of feelings about coding. Having grown up in a time when coding was especially important because everything was at risk of being censored, things I could see myself in or relationships that I could become invested in meant the world to me. The way Mac went on a revenge mission for Blair in Predator, the tragic intimate friendship in Enemy Mine, watching Data get picked on for not understanding things in ST: TNG. These were formative.

So, it seems like an obvious, surface level view that these tropes about vampire and robot racism could be taken like this. But in the era vampire racism stories were getting really popular was also an era where AIDS was poorly represented in the media and has persisted through the opioid and other drug crises. So you often had stories about innocent people who were attacked against their will, suffering from cravings they couldn't contain and knew were destructive to them and the people around them. That was important. That was invaluable.

Werewolf racism? What if I know I'm a freak. What if I'm trapped in a human body feeling like a creature that doesn't fit. What if I struggle with impulse and people would rather get rid of me if they knew so reaching out for help is impossible. That spoke to people who felt like they had to constantly pretend to be accepted, whether they were trans, gay, masking so hard that it was hurting...

Robots have always swung trope-wise to either neurodivergent or sociopathy. I actually really loved Alien Romulus for representing both tropes in contrast to each other. But usually, as a narrative analogy, almost always if there is a robot uprising then we did this to us and they're still the bad guys. Like in The Second Renaissance from the Animatrix- the uprising happened because of human mistreatment. Skynet also being one of the classic examples. An AI reacting out of its first inclination of fear. The more aggressive timelines of Detroit: Become Human, or the breaking of the androids caught in what they feel is a torture timeloop in the modern Westworld, we did this to us. Hell, in the classic Westworld, where it was just that the AI created for our entertainment was allowed to act without restriction- we gave it the capacity for that, we often provided the catalyst for the Frankenstein's Monster moment, and very, very rarely do I ever see the AI presented as the good guys in these scenarios. Almost always, despite the fact there was a human designer who enabled the lethality of these machines, that provided the situation to cause a revolt, and the robots are, rightfully, still considered the bad guys.

Now pair this with the trope of 'neurodivergent robot'.

Yeah, you got a logical reason to hate and fear robots. In Star Trek, Data came on the heels of his 'twin brother', Lore (who I have a lot of strong feelings about how underutilized he was in the franchise). In Picard they went far more into AI apprehension, but there was a long history in Star Trek already established about unreliable and dangerous robots, and one that was exactly the same design as Data killed his whole colony. But even if the reasoning was understandable, Data trying to relate to people and constantly having to prove himself as an individual worthy of respect despite prejudices speaks to people. It's hard watching someone whose intent is obvious to us, the audience member, and usually someone going through something similar be treated as less than.

In Terminator 2 we got to see a Terminator turn into a 'good guy', showing all this awkward behavior that made it nigh on impossible to communicate but with a hyper-focus. He only needed to be trusted enough to get the job done. But he was shown a level of care and kindness he wasn't expecting. Even Sarah Connor could see the benefit of a machine 'father' because she knew his priorities wouldn't waver. Now, ignoring various sequels that ruined this- Imagine at the time you were back from Iraq. Operation Desert Farewell happened after Feb 1991, so a good hunk of soldiers came home prior to the summer release of T2. Imagine, now, you have a bunch of military broken soldiers, some suffering from Gulf War syndrome, and their family members going to see this movie where a fight-minded robot is learning to love beyond general 'programming'.

There's also the many, many genres of story that are 'human cop pairs with inhuman cop'. Sometimes robot. Sometimes alien. Almost always copaganda, sure, but also it often appeals to people that want to have someone work to understand them. Any fashion of what's designated by society as a freaking weirdo wants to be understood. This trope is timeless at this point.

TLDR: There's a lot that I can go on about, I got a whole book worth of thought in me, but my big points are: - These tropes began as products of their time. Not only products of their time, but they also introduced people to ideas in a way that made it easier to ask for help. It opened up the doorways to relating. - Even in a world where censorship isn't quite as pervasive, we need narrative metaphors for the shit that bothers us because it's padding. I don't want to fucking doomscroll my entertainment. Not all the time, but sometimes I'd rather watch the android get up and put his arm back on after being gang-beat for being a freak than seeing a realistically bruised-up girl be helped home by a friend because it reminds me of shit that's happeend to me. Not shitting on the real thing but sometimes I want the metaphorical thing, thanks. - I actually love the audience capacity for sympathy. To some people it might be sympathy for the devil. To other people the 'robot-overlords' feels like when you're accused of being part of the 'woke mind-virus' and being villainized, or vampire hate is like, 'wow I have an impulse problem and I can never ask for help'.

the reason "robot racism" is often a really stupid metaphor is the same reason that like. discrimination against demons or vampires or whatever doesn't work, is because there's often a pretty justified reasons humans are scared of vampires or robots or whatever, in a way that doesn't apply to real life minorities, like a fantasy author will be like "the reason vampires are discriminated against is because most of them and kill and eat people for fun and pleasure, and so humans respond by trying to kill them, isn't that so sad" and like no that's a perfectly fine reason to not trust vampires i think.

[monzabee]

i desperately need nanny!reader and jealous!hotch. maybe reader have a date (that didn’t end well) and afterwards something happens between her and hotch… i just need something steamy to happen tbh

also how old is nanny!reader according to you?

date night (gone wrong) - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: hotch recruits help to make sure the nanny’s date is not a serial, it’s definitely not because he has feelings for her.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: jealous and posessive aaron (finally), feelings galore, kissing, mentions of a bad date 

Author's Note: thank you so much for your request and i hope you like it!!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Aaron convinces himself that it is for the best. And perhaps, it is. He doesn't need to feel this way—jealous, possessive—but somehow, when he sees you slipping into that dress, he is a goner.  

Black, skintight, and short, it is enough to drive crazy on its own if he were to imagine you in it. But actually see you walk out of his house wearing it? 

It’s a big problem. 

A very specific kind of problem that tightens in his chest and coils low in his gut. 

Jack had run up to hug you goodbye, completely unaware that his father was standing there, stunned silent, jaw locked, and fists clenched just out of your view. You’d looked over your shoulder to say something, he can’t even remember what, but the flash of a smile, the tilt of your head, and the bare expanse of your legs had him swallowing hard. 

“I’ll be back before midnight,” you’d said sweetly, adjusting the strap on your purse. “Try to be good for your dad, okay?” 

He’d barely managed a goodbye. Because how was he supposed to let you go when you were walking out the door looking like that? 

And with him? 

Your date had pulled into the driveway with his engine too loud and his sunglasses still on, even though the sun had set a long time ago. Aaron watched from the window, watched you wave and laugh as you slid into the car, his car, and drove off into the evening. And how could he be sure that he was a good driver? How could he be assured that he wasn’t going to get you in an accident which could end up in you getting hurt? 

So, he told himself it was because he wanted to make sure the man wasn’t a criminal. That it was just protocol. But that excuse thinned out the second he called Garcia to dig up a background check. Just in case. 

And now? Sitting alone in the dark with a glass of scotch he doesn't even want, Aaron realizes the truth: he's never wanted to punch a man more in his life. He’s never also wanted to punch himself more in his life for suggesting that you should try dating other people, but that’s a whole other story.  

He’s still on the couch when the sound of your key in the lock breaks the silence. 

It’s 11:56. 

You step in quietly, slipping off your heels by the door. He hears the faint clink of your purse hitting the entryway table, then the soft shuffle of your feet against the hardwood. 

Aaron doesn’t move. Not until you sigh. 

A quiet, tired, defeated little sound that lodges itself right into his chest. 

You’re in the same dress—minus your heels, and your makeup is smudged in a way that has nothing to do with laughter, passion or good conversation. Your expression is sour, your lips pressed into a line. 

“Hey,” you murmur, as you step into the living room and realize he’s still up. You take a few steps and drop yourself onto the armchair across from the one he’s sitting in. 

His eyes flick up to meet yours. You look… not upset exactly. But not like someone who had a good time either. “Hey,” he echoes, setting his glass down. “You’re early.” 

“Date from hell.” You respond, not choosing to elaborate, since you know he’ll understand just how bad it was from your lack of explanation.  

He doesn’t respond. Not right away. Because part of him is already, shamefully, thrilled.  But the lack of words on your part doesn’t stop him from asking, “What happened?” 

“He was rude to the waitress. Talked about his ex-girlfriend half the night. Called me a babysitter like it was a bad thing. Then he tried to kiss me in the parking lot and got pissy when I didn’t let him.” The shudder that goes through you is enough to send Aaron snapping. 

His jaw clenches so tightly it hurts, and his fingers curl into fists against his thighs. He’s up before he even knows it, crossing the room with a kind of restrained intensity that sets your heart hammering. 

“Did he touch you?” he asks, voice low and dark. Deadly calm. The kind that would make you scared for your life if you didn’t know he’s not capable of hurting you in any way.  

“What? No!” You shake your head, your face scrunched up in disgust. “No. I got in my Uber and left before he could try again.” 

He breathes, but it doesn’t ease the storm behind his eyes. You’ve seen him like this before—when someone threatens Jack. Or when a case hits too close to home. But never over you. 

Never like this. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that,” he says, and there’s steel in his voice now. “You shouldn’t have to pretend to be interested. You shouldn’t have to settle.” 

You cross your arms—not out of defiance, but to hold yourself together, and it nearly drives Aaron insane because you push up your breasts without even intending to. “I wasn’t settling!” 

His eyes meet yours, sharp and knowing, and he tilts his head to the side in a knowing way. “Weren’t you?” 

You flinch at the honesty of it, at the way it lands squarely in your chest. You’d tried. Tried to date someone nice, someone safe. Someone who wasn’t Aaron. But it had felt wrong the entire night. “You told me to go,” you whisper. “You said I should date other people. That I—” 

“I know what I said,” he cuts in, voice rough. “And I lied. I lied because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought…” He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I thought if I wanted what was best for you, it couldn’t be me.” You don’t answer him right away, not knowing how to choose the right words, and he takes it as a sign to continue. “I live a complicated life. I have a son. A demanding job. I don’t always get to come home on time. Sometimes I come home broken. And I thought someone else could give you something easier. Something… simpler.” 

He’s looking at you now like it’s the first time he’s let himself really look. The way you hold yourself. The faint smudge of mascara beneath your eyes. The way your shoulders sag like you’re tired of pretending.  

You feel exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. He is so tall, even when he is sitting down with a drink in his hand. “If I didn’t know any better,” you start, leaning towards him, “I’d say you were jealous.”  

“Do you?” He asks, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, “Know better?” 

Your lips part in a silent shock. “What are you saying right now?” 

“I’m saying I hated watching you walk out that door tonight.” His hand brushes your arm, trails up to your shoulder. “I hated knowing someone else was going to touch you, even just your hand, even for a second.” 

Your breath catches. “You told me to go,” you remind him. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “And it was the biggest mistake I’ve made in a long time.” 

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you move. Then you whisper, “So fix it.” You glance over at him then, the corner of your mouth twitching, something unreadable in your eyes. “You jealous, Aaron?” 

The question hangs there, naked and daring. Kind of like you are, minus the naked part—though you wouldn’t object if he asked you to. 

His eyes meet yours. He doesn’t look away this time. 

“Yes.” It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that prickles under your skin. 

You blink. “Seriously?” 

He nods once, slow. “Painfully.” 

A beat. 

Then you stand up and walk over to him. 

Climb into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And he lets you. You’re straddling him now, your dress riding up, your palms pressed to his chest. Your legs bracketing his. You’re so close now, so unbearably close, and he realizes just how well you fit together, as if you were always meant to be. 

“I wanted to call you all night,” he admits, voice low and rough. “Wanted to tell you not to go. That I couldn’t stand the idea of someone else making you laugh, touching you, kissing you.” 

Your pulse spikes. Your knees feel unsteady even though you are sitting down on his lap. “And now?” you whisper, barely audible. 

His eyes drop to your lips. Then back up. “Now I’m going to kiss you,” he says, “unless you tell me not to.” 

You don’t. 

You couldn’t even if you tried. 

So, when his mouth finds yours, it’s with months, or maybe a year, of pent-up longing behind it. It’s not gentle. It’s not cautious. 

It’s desperate. And it’s perfect. 

[patientreflections]

The Failure of Manufactured Momentum

In 2025, can Hollywood continue with the same old party tricks and expect applause? It’s a question I found myself pondering after stumbling upon an onslaught of post BAFTA social media content where one continuous storyline piqued my interest…and not in a good way. 

I don’t usually wade into fandom conversations, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Bridgerton—and Colin and Penelope’s story was my favourite from the books. Beyond that, I’ve kept my distance. I don’t ship actors or keep up with stan drama. But something about this weekend’s BAFTAs, and the very deliberate press rollout that followed, caught my attention. Not just as a viewer, but as someone who’s worked in a corporate public relations adaject role for over a decade and finds the Hollywood machine endlessly fascinating (and completely outdated).

What we’re seeing right now with Luke Newton and Antonia Roumelioti is a textbook example of trying to manufacture momentum when there’s no organic traction to begin with. The cracks are showing. With every single post and article that popped up on my FYP and Instagram feed these past 48 hours, the more I felt like I had a bad case of deja vu. Did I just read the same headline over and over again? Yes…but from different outlets and yet it all felt the same. Interest piqued. Clearly the press kit made the following demands: 

Couple Focused; Antonia is to be treated in the headlines with the same level of celebrity as Luke

Curated Images - the same set of approved images over and over again

Approved language. We get it, Antonia is “glamorous” 

Ah, manufactured momentum, the Hollywood PR machines old faithful approach when you have nothing of substance. Let’s be honest: Antonia is being positioned as a public figure, but the foundation is incredibly thin. There’s no significant modeling campaign to anchor her in that world. Her dance history, beyond being a teenage contestant on Greece’s Got Talent, hasn’t evolved into any noteworthy professional credits. And as an “influencer,” an angle that feels unconvincing, the aesthetic is curated, sure, but there’s no substance—no strong personal voice, no visible passion, no cultural or philanthropic cause to connect with. The identity being presented is vague, and vague doesn’t hold attention for long. Did it ever?  

This isn’t a case of the public being harsh. It’s that there’s nothing anchoring her presence outside of proximity to Luke. And for a rollout to work, there has to be something to build from—an existing spark of interest, a story, something people can latch onto. Right now, that just isn’t there. In PR terms, it’s a classic case of a lack of narrative coherence. 

It’s also not helping that the timing feels off. One year out from Bridgerton S3, and Luke’s visibility has been notably muted.  While Nicola Coughlan has gone from strength to strength since then, Luke’s career has remained.... steady at best. He’s the only Bridgerton lead with a season of the show not signed to one of the major agencies, and despite being positioned as a romantic lead, his trajectory feels… stalled.  So this moment, framed as a kind of visibility push, doesn’t feel rooted in authentic career growth. Instead, it reads as strategy: tie this reveal to a known milestone, hope for carryover attention. The fact that Nicola’s name had to be threaded into nearly every headline surrounding this weekend’s appearance says a lot - borrowed equity. It suggests his team knows he doesn’t generate enough coverage on his own—and that’s a hard truth, but it’s one the public is picking up on.

Unsurprisingly, the reaction has been indifferent at best. Well until it took a turn for the worse. Take the Entertainment Tonight instagram post. When a media push goes a bit too far, it can lead to consequences. Using Nicola’s name here and sidelining her accomplishments to push a couple narrative, well, it was a choice someone made. A bad one at that. Viewers are seeing through the strategy, and instead of buying in, they’re disengaging. That’s the risk when you try to force relevance without real public demand. If anything, this rollout has highlighted just how little genuine excitement there is around either of them right now.

So the question is: where does this go from here? Because from a PR perspective, you can’t build long-term interest on shallow foundations. At some point, there needs to be actual growth—either from Antonia showing a clearer sense of self, or from Luke stepping into a stronger career phase that doesn’t rely on nostalgia or association.

Until then, this push will likely keep feeling exactly as it does now: calculated, hollow, and a little too late.

[mooncleaver]

Love's Quiet Surrender

To love without judgement, without the need to change him. Not just whenever he makes you laugh or smile, but all of his darkness. His past, his anger, his sadness. You do not desire for him to become someone else because you understand that he is enough as he is. "You can be anything you want and I'd still be here to love you." It was your promise, sealed with a gentle kiss on his lips.

ღ  pairing: bucky barnes x wife!reader

ღ  warnings: maaybe steamy and also sad, small thunderbolts spoilers, writing errors soooorry

"Buck?"

Your voice echoes in the warmly lit apartment. It's just some minutes past midnight, and in the air a gentle thrum permeates. A kind of stillness filled with exhaustion and comfort at the same time.

"Yes, baby?" Bucky answers almost immediately.

Even though he calls out from your bedroom, you can hear the fatigue beneath his tone. It's almost unnoticeable—he always tries to be put together whenever he talks to you and you hate it—but years of being by his side made you a whisperer or his tell tale signs. From the low lilt of his voice to the slight slur at the end of his sentence, you're no stranger to when Bucky needs to sleep.

Your husband had arrived home late today, presumably working on the whirlwind that was impeaching Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. He comes come disheveled these days, hair tousled with an aching frown on his lips—one you always try to kiss away. You can tell that this is all weighing down on him. The pressure, the bureaucracy, the slinking around your words to be sharp and polite at the same time. And the damn paperwork. It was endless. You don't think you've ever seen this much paper lying around your home and it was the 21st century.

Amongst all the papers and packets that your husband has very much not read yet, you he's been making talks to Valentina's assistant, Mel. He told you about what happened at the gala, how he attempted to convince her to switch sides. Did it go the way he expected? Mm, sort of?

It was endearing, in a way. Bucky always tried to be earnest, though sometimes it's difficult for him to spell out the right words—the right cues. You felt bad for the pout he sent your way as you giggled at his retelling. It took a few words and some kisses to convince him that he was not that awkward, and that you were sure Mel would give him something at least. The way Valentina was moving right now, there was bound to be a reason.

The man had since retired to your bedroom after some heavy coaxing. Bucky was adamant on staying out to help you clean up (he felt guilty for dropping chili sauce on your precious counters), but you didn't let him continue his sentence, knowing just how tired he was. You ushered him back, promising to join the man with an extra minute of head scratches if he followed your words. That seemed to do it, as he finally made his way to the bedroom with a small chuckle echoing.

While you were wiping down the counters, your eyes glanced towards Congressman Gary's dossier on de Fontaine. Less than the actual words on the paper, you focused on the mush of red staining the pristine white. You shook your head at the sight. Unfortunately, you don't think you've ever seen your husband finish a packet from top to bottom.

Not knowing what to do with it, you decide to just ask him. Though you think he’ll most likely tell you to throw it and every other coming packet down the trash, seeing how things are going now.

While trekking your way to him, you can hear him shuffling around in your bed, no doubt leaning onto it for a semblance of support.

When you finally arrive at your destination, the sight that greets you is nothing less than breathtaking—you say this to just about anything that Bucky does.

He's now dressed only in his white tank, evidence of the previous chili-dog accident thrown away into the laundry basket (to which he later promises to scrub it out, of course). He's got his legs spread and was, just as you had thought, leaning back on his arms against the bed. This angle lets you stare at the up and down motion of his breathing, the muscles flexing with tension. And God if this were any other night, you'd take him right then and there.

Once you're finally satisfied with your ogling—which you purposely timed in a way that lets your husband know it was much more than a simple glance—you finally speak.

"You left your packet on the counter. Didn't know if you wanted me to put it away 'cuz of the stain on it or…"

You trail off, giving him a sheepish smile as you leaned against the door with your arms crossed. Bucky's whole body just falls at the mention of the packet, his metal arm running a hand through his hair in quiet frustration. He looks done with it. It's like he's fighting the sleep right out of his eyes, and the dim bedside lamps don't help as it only accentuates a certain gauntness in his skin. Goddamn, he was trying to real hard here, but there was always an itch at the thought of only relying on the legal system. Valentina was a cunning and powerful woman. Bucky just couldn't see how a packet would overturn her entirely.

Without opening his eyes, his hand pats the top of his thigh, and you are compelled to follow that rhythm. You take quick but quiet steps to close the distance, finding yourself standing in between his legs while your hands fall on his broad shoulders. You're careful when you place your right hand down where his skin meets metal. Though he says it doesn't hurt as much as it used to, you always believe in treating his scars with the utmost kindness and care. He moves instantly, leaning forward to drag his hands down the curve of your waist before gripping the back of your thighs like he never wanted to let you go.

When he looks up at you, you see the smidge of defeat in his eyes, and the tired smile he sends your way just makes you want to cradle the man in your arms for eternity.

"Don't think this old man is cut out for this type'f thing, sweetheart." Bucky mutters almost inaudibly.

He tips his head back as he quietens, as if the weight above his head is too heavy to carry.

Despite the joke on his age, there's a small drop on your heart. It's different when Bucky says he's tired. It's because he's been doing life for a very long 110 years. You've always encouraged him to pursue everything he wanted, from the smallest thing like learning how to cook his favorite dishes to bigger ones like campaigning to be a congress member. So when he says that he doesn't feel fit to continue, a piece of your heart breaks because you understand how hard he tries. To move on, to become a better man.

You lift your hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, pushing forward lightly to let him rest on your stomach so it doesn't ache.

You shake your head while combing through his hair, pushing the loose strands behind his ear while gently replying, "Silly, everybody starts somewhere."

Bucky shakes his head against your waist, and you have to hold back a giggle at the sensation and the gesture. Sometimes your husband does things that are very childlike, and not only is it absolutely adorable, but it reminds you that he is just a human like everybody else.

"Feels like I haven't even stepped foot while everybody else is on the goddamn finishing line." He mumbles. Its nearly inaudible, but you can hear loud and clear the weight behind those words.

"That's not true." Your protest is as much convicted as it is true, and you make them known as you pull away from his grip, grabbing his shoulders to straddle him. Both your knees are bent beside his thighs, setting comfortably on the edge of the bed. It's an extremely familiar position—in many contexts. But it's the most intimate to you. Vulnerable. To be mere breathes away from his face, all of you and all of him meeting in the middle.

You know what he says isn't true because Bucky doesn't do things half-assed. He worked his way up on a very, very difficult campaign, rising above in a world that doesn't always make space for him. He has made it so far, from the Winter Soldier to Congressman Barnes. It hurts you that despite everything, he still has doubts about himself.

Even when he's hurting he holds you in his arms so gently, one arm propping behind your back while the metal one is stationed right on your neck, trailing down to your waist to join the other. Bucky pushes his face into your neck, molding it perfectly into the crook that was made for him. You run your fingers through his hair in response, wishing to relieve all the built up tension.

He breathes in your scent, nosing the skin like that mere contact could calm him down. And you feel the way he deflates beneath you, breath tensing—anticipating—as if he were scared of what he wanted to say next. The words he uttered then were so soft, yet so convicted at the same time. It sounded like he already knew it would happen. "If I went back out in the field.. would you be angry?"

Your fingers came to a pause, lips dropping into a small pout. The man slowly lifts his head up again to see why you've gone quiet and he can't help but give you a small kiss to soothe the upset.

Despite the slightly uncomfortable shift in your chest, you couldn't say you were surprised about his confession. Bucky had always been a man of action more than he was with words. He carries his promises in the way he moves. To repent, to love, to forgive. His silence spoke more than any word ever could. So it's not new to you that his sense of justice is rooted in physically fighting for it. Though you hated seeing him hurt, you loved it even more when he had that gratified smile and a look in his eyes that showed you he was proud of the man he became. You could never stop him from doing what he thought was right.

Toying with the chain of his dog tags you sighed, shaking your head in acceptance, "Worried maybe.. but never angry."

Bucky took your right hand off his chain and placed it on his cheek, softly urging you to look him in the eyes. He wanted to hear you say that right to his face. To look at the truth, the hurt and the apprehension. He wanted to understand you beyond the words that came out of your mouth.

"You mean that, sweetheart?" He kissed your palm like it was glass, savoring every line and crease as if it was heaven beneath his lips. He stopped particularly longer when he met your ring finger, where a golden band had sat comfortably for years.

Bucky was ready to see the light dim in you—he knew you didn't enjoy seeing him go back out there after everything he went through. He was ready to use everything in him to spark it again, to save whatever trust you had left in you.

But he was utterly surprised to see the pure acceptance in your eyes. That kind of willingness to stay beside him along the ride, no matter the bumps and distance in between. You looked at him like you were ready to weather the storms and carry the weight of the world with him—if not for him.

Because this is what love is. Love gives and lets go without seeking recognition, without seeking for something in return. You love because you have the capability to—to make space and celebrate another flourishing in your presence.

Being with Bucky was never about what you could get, but what you could offer him.

And so in love's quiet surrender you learn to accept without condition. To love without judgement, without the need to change him. Not just whenever he makes you laugh or smile, but all of his darkness. His past, his anger, his sadness. You do not desire for him to become someone else because you understand that he is enough as he is.

"You can be anything you want and I'd still be here to love you." It was your promise, sealed with a gentle kiss on his lips.

And suddenly it wasn't just him against the world. Wasn't just the darkness creeping into his life, never with mercy, never with kindness. There was you at the end of the tunnel, holding out your hand for him. A chance at salvation.

You could be that for him. A saving grace, a friend, a lover. You'd be anything for him if it meant you could see that rare sight of his smile again.

There is no future without him in it.

He tightens his grip around your waist, arms snaking their way beneath your pajamas to touch the skin. Not the bruising, desperate kind, but a touch that grounds him in the moment. That allows him to feel every single emotion following your confession. You arch against him lightly, laying your palm against his clothed chest when the cool metal of both his arm and the ring on the right meet your skin. But it only makes you smile into his lips, remembering that small yet incredibly meaningful detail.

He wears his wedding ring on the right instead of the left.

Bucky told you that it was because he wanted to always feel the weight on his skin. Not the phantom one on his left, but that real, wrapping sensation, so that he'd never forget one of the happiest moments of his life. So he’d never forget that there was someone waiting for him.

Bucky continues to kiss you with leisure, humming in satisfaction when your hands run up and down from the base of his neck to the top of his head. He pushed your body impossibly close, wanting to feel each and every part of you.

When he is finally satisfied with your loving, he pulls away to face you and you see that mischievous look return to his eyes. He leans in yet again, trailing little pecks that trace your jawline before asking,

"Even if I was a paperboy?"

Now this brings an unexpected laugh out of you.

You know for a fact that Bucky actually used to be paperboy back in the 30s. It's a story that you hold safe in your heart, a glimpse of a reality lost to time. You remember the first time he told you about it back before the two of you got married and the pure elation you felt. Although you knew paperboys did exist, it never settled in your head that they were real real. More than that, you never pictured that your very own husband was one back in his days.

With your head thrown back in glee, Bucky couldn't take his eyes off of you. He loved your smile, even more when he was the reason for it. His clear blue eyes took in the very image of you, everything from the hearty breathes you were releasing, the crease of your lips to the way your throat bobbed. He would trade the world for the sound of your laughter and the stars for that glimmer in your eyes.

"Oh I can just imagine little Bucky riding around the neighborhood in his overalls and newsboy cap. I bet you made eeeveryone fall for how cute you were."

It was meant to be a tease on your husband's charming nature, but deep down you genuinely believed that to be true. And you were proven right when he shrugged in response, that annoyingly handsome smug smile settling deeply on his face.

"How'd you think I sold out everytime, doll?"

It's times like these where you see the light come back into his eyes. The nonchalance, the proud puff in his chest. He has such a beautiful smile. The most beautiful.

The surge of love you felt propelled you to wrap your arms around his head, pushing his face to rest on your plush chest. "You were a charmer weren't you?"

"Born and raised, ma'am." He mumbled against the soft fabric of your top. His hand drifted down to the bottom of your ass, caressing in a silent promise for the coming night.

You chased after it, placing your hand on top of his and then dragging your fingers up lazily, tracing the vein on his bicep. It teetered on his shoulder now, where you could feel him shudder and then flex beneath. With this gesture you felt the utter pride and masculinity showing. "You're not even denying it!" You exclaim as his lips move away from that comfortable spot on your chest to press a thousand pecks on your neck and then cheek. His beard—the one that you begged for him not to shave off—ticked you pleasantly. Once he realizes this fact though, he cheekily shakes his head, and you squirmed to get away only for him to snake a hand behind your head to softly guide you back to his lips.

You sighed against him, closing your eyes to savor the feeling. "The man of my dreams."

"You dreaming of me?" It took him a while to answer you, too occupied with tasting your sweetness. He whispered the tease right beside your ears, his lips mapping the shell as he softly nipped your earlobe.

"Every night Bucky."

WOWWWW thunderbolts Bucky changed my life you guys (hello prince hair). I initially wanted to write a playful little moment with him but got a tiiiny bit emotional 😅

ALSO ITS CANON TO MEEE that Bucky used to be a paperboy. I literally couldn't stop laughing at the thought

masterlist

dividers by @enchanthings-a

[fernbruises]

slow replies, thinking about bbf!ellie catching you half naked on the landing after your shower.

she just spawns, having left your brother on the couch bitching to the fucking dust mites about his third straight loss against her on mortal kombat (his suggestion, by the way—always his suggestion! fully aware of ellie’s impeccable track record). she’d just wanted to use the bathroom… well, that’s the excuse she’d used, anyway.

all casual, so unbothered. like… she’d been nonchalant enough in asking your brother if you were home, tossing it out with a fake little shrug in her voice but secretly hopeful as ever, and he’d just replied with a very disinterested “yeah, somewhere”, because he genuinely did not give a fuck. but she knew what she was doing—it had only been halfway through their third rematch when she’d heard the faint sound of the shower running, and so the second that water switched off? infiltration time!!! and she was up, off of that couch and mounting the stairs like it was a covert mission, timing the whole thing perfectly, reaching the landing at the precise moment you were crossing it post-shower; hair still wet, skin speckled with water droplets, in nothing but a towel… she couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried, honestly.

her eyes visibly light up when she sees you, when they meet yours, and she vows to you that she didn’t know you were showering, but she’s also straight up laughing??? like, she’s the world’s worst liar ever… love that for her! and she’s so unashamedly ecstatic at this “coincidental” turn of events that it just entirely cancels out whatever terrible little facade she’s attempting. and??? the way her eyes flick up and down, my goddd, like she knows she shouldn’t be looking but she’s absolutely shameless in just out-and-out staring. i’m talking zeeero shame, that little lesbian has no moral compass whatsoever. and you just roll your eyes, pretending to be so done with her, as if you aren’t secretly thrilled that she’s here—as if you aren’t thiiiiis close to pulling open your towel just to see what she’d do. and then you’re all like, “skipping out on quality guy time just to catch me half naked?”

and her eyes are just all over your body now— especially your collarbone, the slope of your neck, and that tiny freckle decorating the swell of your breast that she knows will keep her up tonight, because seriously, how has she never seen that before? but then she locks in again, all smug and shruggy, “just got bored of kicking your brother’s ass. figured i’d come look at yours, instead.” (!!!) and you just pull a face, but she catches you stand a little straighter and she swears you’re pulling your towel tighter??…she has never wanted to be a towel so bad in her entire life. there’s a beat, and she shoots you that look again— the same one she gave you last summer when the two of you had almost kissed in the cupboard underneath your stairs under the guise of a ‘truth or dare’… the one where nobody dared you.

“i know he’s a little slow,” you tip your chin toward the floorboards, voice low, hoping to god it doesn’t waver under ellie’s stare. “…but, he’ll start catching on if you keep making excuses to come find me.” and thennn you dare to question her bro code, and ellie runs her tongue over her teeth, leaning her shoulder into the wall. you’re talking about bro code? while looking like that? honestly, she’s battling her inner demons so hard—fighting for her life, seconds away from saying something so insanely foul she knows it would haunt her for eternity. but tbh, she would to drop to her knees for you—quite literally drop. to. her. knees. let you squirm against the wall, against her mouth!!! she’s desperate to watch you try to muffle your moans with your hand.

buuut, she’s a little shit. and she can be stubborn. so, she leaves it… eventually, but not before drinking you in one more time, letting her eyes linger over your upper thighs, slow and deliberate. this is an insanely dangerous game… one she is so close to losing.

“put some clothes on,” she mumbles and pivots on her feet, hiding her grin. “…or i’ll have to keep finding reasons to come see you.”

[dailysolidarity]

I just think it would be fun to do a Cap!Jimmy or a Codfather!Jimmy...

Day 136!

The amount of lore i built in my head for the Codfather and especially his empire. He's making plans to get his mask back.

if youre here TOO DAMN BAD here's my hcs for the Cod Empire.

Their official alphabet is very similar to Willowscript before they started using the common alphabet. It's at a risk of being completely forgotten but Jimmy's trying very hard to bring it back.

The Cod Empire is comprised of several tribes, it's the reason their empire is just called the Cod Empire so there's no conflict or tension over the name. Also, the empire is both really old and really young at the same time. The tribes have been around for a long time but it only became an empire the moment Jimmy came around to essentially group them all together.

Even though there aren't any mangroves (because they weren't added til later seasons), the Cod Empire has them! They also have fireflies and willows! The Cod Empire has high biodiversity despite being very small and it's all thanks to their tribes culture being extremely nature-oriented. I also hc that there's a palm species only found in their swamps that is used in making some strong ass liquor which is why my Jimmy has high alcohol tolerance, it's very ingrained in their culture.

The Cod Empire has a special fabric that's. It's literally just the Empires equivalent of the piña fabric. Additionally, their people are very skilled in weaving and wickerwork.

Anyways, there's so much more but i gotta go. :) I love thinking about stuff like this because SCREW PLOT

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ PAPER RINGS, BOB REYNOLDS

now playing ↬ paper rings -Taylor Swift

⭑.ᐟ Kicked my feet while writing this one…. I’m going back to writing for Dean after this BUT Bob might just be posted about often… just saying🤭 please interact and send requests if u have any!

word count. 989

my masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Bob’s not sure what he’s doing. Maybe it’s self sabotage because it’s very, very stupid. Or maybe he’s just hopeful. Hopeful that he isn’t about to ruin the best thing he has. The only thing that seems to have meaning in this messed up world.

Perhaps, you feel the same. He knows you do- he’s just not sure if that’s what you want. He thinks too much, and he hates it.

His hands burn, because he’s probably made a thousand. Or just a hundred- he’s already forgotten. He just knows that none of them are the one. None of them are perfectly shaped to fit your finger, none of them look remotely good to what you deserve.

He’s pretty sure he’s being stupid. He could go and buy a real one, but where would the fun be in that? This is more meaningful. It’s also funny- he thinks. He knows that if you do- want it, you’ll love it. It’s material, so you’ll love how much time he’s spent on it. It also doesn’t make it real. It’s not like he’s about to ask you to marry him.

Not really.

He sees this more as a promise ring.

A promise paper ring- to be more precise.

It’ll probably last a day, but at least you’ll have something romantic to talk and laugh about into eternity.

It’s also who he is.

He’s not a normal guy.

He’s awkward, he’s shy, he has weird ways to show that he loves someone, and he’s a nerd.

That’s what you love though.

All of him- but especially that.

The only thing he hopes doesn’t happen, is the others to see it. Especially Walker.

He knows for a fact that he’ll never shut up. He’ll make jokes, he’ll attack and pretend he’s just joking, but it’ll be passive agressive and judgmental, because that’s walker for you.

He knows Yelena will be the first to know though. Because for you- this probably will be like a proposal. You’ll overreact- maybe he’ll just need to really propose not too long after.

He figures, this might be easier.

You’re superheroes.

Or maybe not- but none of you are normal.

You’re the new avengers(z).

Maybe marriage isn’t in the lines for now.

Maybe paper rings are enough , and if he has to make a new one everyday for you? He will.

He’d do anything.

He’s so lost in thoughts, so concentrated on making the perfect paper ring, that he doesn’t hear you enter the room.

He doesn’t hear your footsteps grow closer to him.

And he jumps the moment your hand lays on his shoulder.

He’s on his feet in a second, the ring he just crafted that was almost perfect- almost you, is in his hand behind his back.

‘What are you doing?’ Your giggles echo in his mind, that’s his favorite sound.

He knows you caught him. And knowing you? You probably stood behind him or in the doorway for long minutes before making a move- observing him.

Now his plan is ruined.

‘Nothing!’ He defends. He smiles, innocently, as if to tell you to drop it- nicely.

‘Oh yeah? Why’s that bin full of paper then?’ You point to the bin sitting on the floor next to the table. Paper and scissors lay there perfectly. You wiggle your eyebrows, and your arms are tight around your chest.

‘Just you know… experimenting?’ It sounds more like a question than an affirmation. He’s unsure, he’s sweaty, almost like he just did something bad.

‘Bob… you’re such a bad liar.’ You laugh, your feet moving closer to him.

‘I’m not!’ He defends again, this time joining in laughing with you.

‘What’s in your hand, Bob?’ You question, eyebrows still raised at him although you think you know exactly what’s in there.

He feels defeated. Like he has no choice but to give it to you now even though it’s not the perfect ring.

‘Fine.’ He sighs, his hands open in front of you.

‘A paper ring?’ You pick it up, only for him to take it back as quickly as you did.

‘Let me?’ He clears his throat, and takes your hand.

‘I know this isn’t a real ring. But I do love you, and I thought you’d like that. I know marriage isn’t our thing for now, so.. promise me?’

Your smile is big now, almost too big that your cheeks hurt.

‘Promise you what?’ You ask him.

‘That you’ll stay with me? We’re in this together, right? That’s what you always say. So just.. instead of marrying me, just promise me.’

‘You didn’t rehearse that, did you?’

‘No- no I didn’t.’ He stutters but laughs back at you, his hand still holding yours, slipping the paper ring on your finger.

‘What about you?’

This makes him turn around and search frantically for another ring, one that’s in the bin, the least messed up.

‘There.’ He gives it to you, and looks at you like you’re the only thing worth looking at as you slip the ring on his finger.

‘See? Perfect.’ Your hands go up to rest on his cheeks, as his hands go to rest on your hips.

‘Okay, I promise.’ He lets out a big breath of relief, and instead of saying ‘I do’ he tells you the same thing.

‘I promise.’

It’s instantly that your lips find his. It’s sweet, it’s slow and full of passion. Your lips melt together, they fit like perfect pieces of a puzzle.

‘I love you.’ You try to say in between kisses but soon enough the back of your legs hit the bed, and you fall with Bob on top of you.

You’re not sure if he says I love you back- you don’t really care. Maybe you don’t hear him because him on top of you is enough to make you lose all senses.

Maybe this isn’t married life yet- but this is close enough.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @l0v33-rey @mostlymarvelgirl @that-stanford-girlie @sunnyteume @bohoooitsme @beelzebzb

please comment if you want to be added to/stay on the everything taglist OR be removed from it:)

💋comment this for everything taglist

🎵this for supernatural taglist

🦸this for the Bob/mcu taglist!!!!

[nothing-an-iratze-cant-fix]

Ok well first off, who the literal fuck are “you guys”?

Second, for the present emergency, I would say the baseline was before trump took office, all “you” are trying to do is keep things from getting worse in the areas you decide you’re going to fight on. This is bailing out the boat time, you don’t get to keep everything and you don’t get to make improvements.

Nope, that’s exactly why you don’t get to have improvements - things getting worse/taken away involves a law or EO getting passed that people can object to/block. This is, in some cases, possible from the ground up with protests and legal proceedings. Things getting improved involves getting a law passed from the top down (although states can do a small amount within their state specifically which is great and part of the toolbox but doesn’t fix things for the whole country). You can’t do that right now. Nobody reasonable holds the balance of power right now. No laws improving things stand a chance of being passed on a national level. Give that up for the next (I hope to God) 3 and a bit years. You’re just trying to hold the line.

In terms of what’s important, I did answer your question - “you”/the people need to decide for themselves. And in many cases it’s going to come down to how the opposition acts - if two things are in jeopardy at the same time the choice might become between them where previously they would never have been in competition. You have to choose your battles.

In terms of the baseline re-electing a fascist - I think the appetite for fascists might have died down among the electorate. But now the US is in danger of never having another election. So that’s a huge bulwark - protect the next election. And have a decent candidate for people to vote for.

I mean, you’re just talking to me, I would say the state of emergency started when Trump took office and ironically, you’re right about what to do in a state of emergency. That’s why I said initially that your post from a year ago where there was room to pull out every drawer and fix things no longer applied. Other states of emergency were called in bad faith by bad presidents to allow them to do what they wanted. I’m saying the US is now in a state of emergency *because* of the president. Just because it was a lie before doesn’t mean it’s not true now. Also, improvements *were made* in the last 40 years. I feel like you’re glossing over periods of time like the Clinton administration and Obama’s time in office. But who is at the top of the chain and who they have beneath them makes almost all the difference. Especially with a totalitarian dictator who doesn’t respect your governmental process/safeguards.

Outside the US, some of us have a bit more room, can possibly make some improvements, although it’s not looking great in the UK right now with Sir Enoch Starmer so we might be about to hit a similar situation. I don’t think he’s got the guts though, I think we’ve got some wiggle room. A couple of countries have just had very good results with their leaders but of course we’re all still affected by the US and Trump. But there’s some room in some places for some improvements and protections if the appetite is there. Obviously there are plenty of places that are, as ever, pretty fucked. We’ll see how that goes.

But yeah, a lot depends on the US and a lot of that depends on being realistic about the situation and picking battles wisely. There’s not a ton those of us on the sidelines can do except support from afar.

Daily reminder that we do not actually live in a dystopian movie put the apocalypse down and back away slowly. You know when your cleaning a room and you pull everything out of it's draws to sort through it and you're like "what the fuck have I done I'm never going to be able to tidy all of this" I think that's the stage we're at in the world. Thanks to social media we've pulled out all the messed up shit from the cupboards of the world, it was always there but now we can see it and we're going to have to sort it all out we made this mess and we can fix it. Falling to the floor sobbing will not clean a crusty room. A group of people working systematically (preferably with music in the background) will.

[aureatelys]

strangers

pairing: jesse/fem!reader genre: fluff w.c.: 2k a/n: take this indulgent fluffy oneshot. and with no smut? shocker!!

summary: You wake up in a hospital with your head hurting and no memory of what happened the day before. Jesse helps you remember.

c.w.: fluff!!! established relationship, r is high on drugs, smooches, no y/n

read below or on ao3 here <3

When you wake up with a splitting headache and in the makeshift hospital of Jackson, you can’t remember what had happened.

You don’t remember what day it was, but based off the golden light pouring through the raggedy curtains, it was nearing sunset. Your body felt heavy, sluggish, and there’s a distant thumping behind your eyes. When you reach up to your temple to gingerly feel for any injuries, your arm feels ten times heavier, and with significant effort, you’re able to feel the rough texture of a bandage wrapped around your head.

You take in your surroundings—you’re alone, which you weren’t sure was a good or a bad thing. There was a cracked vase on the table next to the bed, filled with pretty sunflowers that brightened up the entire room as well as a piece of bread and lukewarm soup on a tray. There’s an empty chair pulled up to your side with an unfamiliar coat thrown over the back.

Your head feels heavy as well, like everything was passing in slow motion. You attempt to sit up but don’t make it very far when you wince at the sudden sharp pain in your ribs. When you pull the thin blanket back and lift your sweater up your body, your entire right side was bandaged up as well.

You hear a creak and when you lift your head from where you were poking at your bandages, you spot Maria peeking her head around the door. Her face lights up, causing you to wonder how long you were out for, and says “Oh good, you’re awake. Let me go get Jesse.”

Before you could ask why the hell would Jesse be here, she’s gone.

You frown to yourself, trying to lift yourself in a more comfortable sitting position, as your brain slowly tries to catch up. You try to recount the events that have landed you here in the hospital, but you can’t seem to remember anything that happened after dinner yesterday where you had nearly choked on your piece of chicken over a joke that Ellie had recited back at you.

There’s a gentle knock, the door creaks open, and then Jesse, quiet and dependable Jesse, walks in.

Your frown grows deeper, confused at the sight of a member from the council checking in on you, much less Jesse. You’ve never really spoken to each other besides at the food hall, sharing mutual friends and sitting at the same table sometimes, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t interested in spending more time with him.

Dark hair, pretty brown eyes, and a boyish smile that forms as soon as he meets your gaze. He has broad shoulders, large hands, and thick forearms that immediately draws your attention as he steps into the room.

He says your name, nearly exhales it in relief, and the sound of it coming from his mouth has something unfamiliar and warm settling in your chest.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, immediately rushing to sit at the empty chair at your bedside.

“Uhm, hi,” you stutter, blinking up at him. Has he always been this pretty?

“You were out for almost two days, we were getting worried,” Jesse mutters, mouth twisting in a grimace. “You hit your head pretty hard though, so I’m not surprised.”

And then he’s reaching out, his hand coming to lay over yours where it lays palm up on top of the blanket.

Jesse, the guy you’ve had a crush on for as long as you’ve been living in Jackson, is holding your hand. You should feel concerned, confused, maybe even a little panicked, but you don’t feel any of that. If anything, you feel a little giddy at how close in proximity he was. Also, he’s really easy on the eyes.

You must have been given something, because you continue blinking up at him, your mouth dropping open and feeling drier than normal, when you say “You’re really pretty.”

Jesse’s eyebrows shoot up, an incredulous smile gracing his pretty mouth while he huffs a laugh. He ducks his head, as if embarrassed, but his hand squeezes around yours. It’s nice, comforting, even if you don’t know what the hell is going on. Was there a secret matchmaking event that you missed out on? “Thanks babe.”

You frown, eyebrows furrowing because there’s no way you heard that right. “Babe?”

It’s Jesse’s turn to blink at you, but his hand doesn’t budge where he’s still covering yours, his thumb swiping back and forth against your knuckles. His large, warm hands. “Yeah? I’m not allowed to call my girlfriend babe?”

Despite having just woken up, your eyes were already drooping, breaths growing deeper. You let your eyes close briefly before snapping them open. When you meet Jesse’s gaze as best as you could, you mentally tell yourself to stop being sleepy so you can keep staring at him. “I’m your girlfriend? Since when?”

Jesse frowns, his hand tightening on yours before disentangling himself from you and leaning away. “Are you trying to make a joke right now?”

You hum noncommittally before flinging your arm out, because your arm is still really heavy, to take a hold of his hand to bring it to your lap. How dare he stop holding hands with you. You run your fingers along his, taking notes of the rough callouses and how easily his hand dwarfs yours. You’re a little giddy that he so easily lets you grab at him. “Depends. Do you like when your girlfriend makes jokes?”

He pauses and just stares at you with an unreadable expression on his face. At least he lets you continue to play with his fingers. Small victories.

“How much do you remember?”

“Can you get me a sandwich?”

A smile threatens to tug at Jesse’s mouth, but he doesn’t relent, instead continuing to wear that incredibly attractive neutral expression. “What?”

“Will you get your poor girlfriend a sandwich,” you ask. “Please?”

That smile finally breaks through, making him appear younger, more handsome. He chuckles and intertwines his fingers with yours. You glance down at your joined hands, smiling when you notice how nicely you fit together. “Yeah, I can get you a sandwich. I’ll be right back.”

He moves to get up, standing and causing the chair to scoot back and trying to remove his hand from yours, but you don’t budge. You tighten his hold on him, frowning and glancing up at him with a hurt look. “Where are you going?”

“To… go get you a sandwich?” he says cautiously, briefly glancing at the untouched piece of bread and soup by your bed.

He’s really cute when he’s confused. “You’re really cute when you’re confused.”

He heaves a sigh and brings his other hand to wrestle your hands away from his, ignoring the embarrassingly whiny noise you make. “How about I go talk to someone about getting you a sandwich and I can come sit with you while you wait?”

You perk up at the possibility of having the two things you desperately want the most in the world at the same time. You nod frantically, and then wince when your vision swims, your hand coming up to massage at your temple. Your head felt like it was full of bricks.

Jesse makes a noise, rushing forward to press a gentle hand to the back of your head. “Careful,” he mutters, voice low and sending something hot to the pit of your stomach.

Once your dizziness fades, you peer up at him. He’s staring at you, his hand still cradled around the back of your head, and your heart starts racing for a reason you didn’t quite understand. You don’t remember this side of Jesse-- handsome, sweet, pretty Jesse, but you could tell that he truly cares for you just from how he’s looking at you right now.

His free hand comes to brush a strand of hair behind your ear before tracing along a scratch on your cheekbone, an action so tender from someone who was essentially an acquaintance to you, but felt so oddly comforting.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers. And then he walks out of the room, your eyes dragging over the way he filled out his jeans and the broad line of his shoulders, and you’re seriously wondering if he really was your boyfriend because there was no way you got to keep all of that.

Jesse returns a moment later, clicking the door gently shut behind him, and sporting a pretty tinge of pink at the tips of his ears.

As soon as he sits down, long legs tucked underneath your hospital bed, you immediately reach out for his hand again. He smiles, soft and warm, and gives you both of his hands so you could place them in your lap to slot your fingers through.

“Maria said they gave you some painkillers for your head, and they probably gave you too much because of how expired they were,” Jesse says. “So, you’re probably just having some side effects.”

You nod, not processing what he was saying at all. The action causes your head to swim again, and when you clutch at the side of your head, squeezing your eyes shut, as if that will calm the nausea you feel, Jesse scoots his chair closer with a worrying look on his face.

“You should probably get some more rest,” he mutters. He tugs up the frayed edge of the blanket from where it was pooled around your waist up to your chin and then tangles your fingers together on top.

“That’s a great idea,” you say, maneuvering yourself as best as you could to lay back on the bed. Drowsiness threatens your eyelids again, and you make a sorry attempt at fighting it just so you could keep staring at your new boyfriend. “Do you think my sandwich will be here when I wake up?”

He smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, baby. It’ll be here when you wake up.”

You smile sleepily. You like Jesse calling you baby.

“You gave me a pretty good scare out there,” Jesse says, his gaze averted. “You hit your head really hard.”

You frowned, sleepiness melting away from you. You didn’t like when people were upset, and seeing Jesse, who you can only remember as being a sturdy pillar for the community, looking like he was in pain was strangely making you feel upset. “I’m okay, I’m right here.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But you don’t remember what happened. Or me.”

You think you’re slowly starting to remember what happened, the memories swimming and materializing in your brain like dust. You had been out on patrol and got ambushed by a small group of raiders, one of which hit you in the back of the head with the butt of a rifle.

You think you’re also starting to remember Jesse, who might’ve been there on patrol with you, but specifically the very first time he kissed you after he walked you home after a night out at the Tipsy Bison. So, you tell him.

“I think I’m starting to remember.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he leans in closer, his elbows propped up on the bed. “Oh yeah? What do you remember?”

You hum. “I think it’ll help if you kiss me.”

He tosses his head back and laughs, loud and unbidden. “Alright, now I know you’re starting to remember.”

“One kiss and I’ll go to sleep, promise.”

“Not for too long otherwise I’m going to eat your sandwich,” he says, already leaning in, eyes having already fallen to your lips.

It’s a gentle press of lips, chaste, but the softness of his mouth was so familiar. Now that he was closer, the intoxicating smell of him, clean and piney, snaked its way through your senses. He smelled like comfort, soothing the underlying anxiety you felt as soon as you had woken up.

When he pulls away and you get a good look at him, staring at you with so much love It makes your chest ache, you’re tempted to ask if you could continue trying to jog your memory rather than resting.

But he pulls farther away, settling into the uncomfortable plastic chair as if he wasn’t planning on moving until you were discharged. He cocks an eyebrow at you, as if he can read your thoughts. “Get some rest.”

You huff, rolling your eyes before turning onto your side so you were facing away from him. You bring a hand to place underneath your chin, the sleeve of your sweater bunched up around your face. You smile when you smell pinewood.

“My sandwich better not be gone when I wake up.”  

“We’ll see.”

[pollkien]

CURUFIN PROPAGANDA:

Sideeyeing Beleriand’s best boy

Called Orodreth stupid behind his back in the Lay of Leithian

#1 Eöl hater of all time

#1 Beren hater of all time also

Daddy’s most specialest boy. So special that both of his names are about his dad. This slut has absolutely no identity outside of his father and I think this is extremely appealing to some

“he alone showed in some degree the same temper and talents. He also resembled Fëanor very much in face.” I mean if you resemble the hottest elf ever you must also be hot.

Absolute cunt. Just a huge asshole. I love that for him

Actually in a draft, Fëanor called on Curufin and a few other of his most trusted servants to burn the ships at night <3

His only redeeming quality is when he told Eöl off that one time

Says the funniest line in all of Silm. “By the laws of the Eldar I may not slay you at this time” is incredible. He invented “Had It Not Been For the Laws of This Land”

Can usurp your heart ;)

Married! Canonically fucked! Unlike most other people here

This also means Curufin is a dilf.

Set evil in Celegorm’s heart <3

If his dad was so so hot Curufin must also be very hot

NOT racist! He was friends with Telchar and wrote much about the Dwarves and Khuzdul. #DiversityWin

Curufin the Crafty more like Curufin the Cunty

He schemes so hard. Do you like scheming boys? He is THE scheming boy for you.

Has a named weapon!

“Eöl, however, Curufin loved not at all. Curufin was aware of Eöl's resentment towards the Noldor, and that Eöl was using his friendship with the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains, which Curufin was jealous of, to stir up unfriendliness against them. Regardless, Eöl was still allowed to cross through East Beleriand, though a constant watch was placed on Nan Elmoth as they mistrusted his doings and goings.” No fucking way DUDE YOU ARE ALSO FRIENDS WITH THE DWARVES OF THE BLUE MOUNTAINS

“In The Earliest Annals of Valinor, the translation of Curufin's name in to Old English is given as Cyrefinn Facensearo and defined as "[Curufin the Crafty, O.E. cyre 'choice', facen 'deceit, guile, wickedness' (a word of wholly bad meaning); searu 'skill, cunning' (also with bad meaning, 'plot, snare, treachery'); facensearu 'treachery'.]"” someone fuck this whore right now

Sorry i am now just reading his TG page “In relation to Celegorm, Christopher Tolkien notes that Curufin is "the more longheaded schemer, standing behind his brother and prompting him - it is clear ... that Celegorm has some authority — or is felt by Curufin to have some authority — that Curufin lacks"[23]:247 and that Curufin was "the wickeder (as he was certainly also the cleverer) of the brothers".” Oh my god.

He has quite the long TG page. Not propaganda just very surprising. Did you know his name shows up 30 times in the published Silm, 34 if you include the name index

Oh he is also divorced.

BELEG PROPAGANDA:

First gay in Middle-earth

No literally. Wist no sire? Beleg the bowman was blowing gaily??

He’s just such a jolly fellow

Beleg <- that’s it that’s the propaganda

“He was great of growth and goodly-limbed, but lithe of girth, and lightly on the ground his footsteps fell”

Loyal as fuck

“Followed no man” and “could not be restrained”

His name means great or mighty. Penis metaphor.

Good sense of humour - for example he surprises Túrin’s outlaws by sneaking up on them with presents

Good with kids

Greatest woodsman of the first age

Truest of friends

With Halmir of Haladin, took an entire orc legion unaware and destroyed it.

Has a mighty bow of black yew wood and an arrow that never breaks (until it broke)

Cute fashion senses - wears grey and green and brown, very cute forestcore vibes

Also has a big white cloak

Cute red boots

Jirt even drew a picture of him clearly this is because he is sexy

Both a warrior and healer. Get you a man who can do it all.

Possibly one of the first elves to awake. Fuck that old man.

[jacksonsturniolo]

warnings .ᐟ — nick is 40, theo is nineteen, IT IS LEGAL. Very tense, Theo a twink fr, dom nick 😫>>>, cheating, mentions of boners, almost belt fondling? I edged you all no actual smut sorry 💔

a/n — so I attempted at this, also I’m tired as fuck and In the mood to be messy. This is ass. Also thank you Fenton for helping me!! 🙏. everyone thank Rose because my sarcastic ass almost made nick bald for this 😭

dilf.ᐟnick paired with Theo (aka his daughter’s boyfriend, I know I’m so messy 😫.)

knock knock.

Theos’ hand fell back to his side, his green eyes flickering across the familiar sight of his girlfriends house. 

he wasn’t supposed to come over today considering him and Eva didn’t make any plans but he was bored, so like any nineteen year old who had a girlfriend that was his first instinct. 

the door swung open snapping him out of his daze — Nick, one of her dads. He was wearing a black wife beater, baggy jeans, and a pair of glasses.

No one could deny he was an attractive man, especially not Theo.

It started off as a small joke — to himself mainly, yet as time went on and the more he went over to Eva’s Theo just came flat out thirsty for any attention he could get from Nick.

“Oh she’s not here bud sorry.” Nicks voice snaps him out of yet another daze causing Theo to nervously shift onto his other foot.

“Oh uhm yeah sorry i forgot they were going on a trip.” Theo nervously rambled out, his words rushed.

“No no it’s all good.” Nick murmured, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. His blue eyes met Theos’ green ones the two sharing a split second of eye contact before Theo broke it.

“I should uhm probably get going.” Theo said again, in that same nervous tone he always had.

Nick shook his head. “Nonsense, you came all the way over here the least I could do is offer you a snack?” Nick mumbled, the smirk on his face not doing anything to help ease Theos nerves.

once the two were inside, Theo was sat on the couch, his shoulders tense his eyes focused on the ground, and his leg shaking.

up and down up and down up and—

he jumped slightly when two hands landed on his shoulders, they squeezed slightly before beginning to massage.

“Why are you so nervous…hm?” Nicks deep raspy voice murmured, so quietly but Theo heard it. “Am I making you nervous?” He questioned.

Theo let out a shaky exhale, his shoulders dropping as he slightly relaxed still tense — just not as tense.

“No sir.” The boy breathed out.

Nick let out a deep hum before pulling his hands away.

He slowly made his way around the couch before stopping in front of Theo. He slightly kneeled in front of the nervous boy, the brunettes dark blue eyes locking with Theos.

“Are you lying to me?” Nick questioned, his big hands falling onto Theos thighs, dangerously high up.

Theo tensed even more, his green eyes squinting shut before he nodded letting out a shaky defeated sigh.

Nick let out a thoughtful hum before trailing his right hand further up Theos thigh.

“And why’d you lie to me? Nick murmured out lowly, his voice was different full of nothing but lust.

Theo peeled his eyes open before biting down on his lip, not answering nicks question.

“Cat got your tongue?” Nick slightly snapped. “You know Theo I always thought you were such a good boy, buying my daughter flowers, taking her to prom, treating her like the only woman in the world just how she deserves.” He starts, each sentence his hands travel up higher and higher.

“But,” Nick continued, his hand now traveling down. “I always see you staring at me, always leaving in a rush whenever we have a conversation.” He continues, his hands now resting on the boys knees. “Acting like I can’t see your pathetic boner.”

Theo let out a shaky whimper, slightly bucking his hips up before Nick grabbed them and held him down onto the couch firmly.

“See what i mean.” Nick spits out lowly, his hands now traveling back up Theos thighs. “Pathetic, such a bad fucking boy.”

Just as nick went to fondle with Theos belt the front door opened, Eva and Milo making their way inside.

Nicks whole demeanor changed, a smile appearing on his face at the sight of his husband and daughter.

“Hi hon.” Nick said softly as he stood up fully. “I was just helping Theo here with a gift basket for evie.” He whispered the last sentence like it was a secret, like it was an innocent secret.

But it wasn’t so innocent.

Eva tugged Theo to his feet dragging him down the hall, sharing one last glance with Nick before being tugged into Eva’s room.

tags because I’m an annoying hoe — @nickssidewitch @thenickgirl @bernardsbendystraws @muwapsturniolo @fentiesturns @kier-with-a-k @mattybsgroupie @sturnsblogs

yall better comment to be on a taglist 😫.

me frowning if you don’t: ☹️

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

I have to agree with Otakuvampyre on this. Fact is I understand why the pictures had the effect they did. And I can explain in detail why. And it's not, "Men can't get women because they are terrible people with bad personalities", like suggested. It's because of the "Before and After" effect that a lot of people make the mistake of doing in pictures. Companies are especially guilty of this. Look the first picture look mellow and or sullen (this can also be accomplished with lighting failures)

So thoughts:

The first image has a large issue with it in general. The lighting on his face is actually brighter than that of the rest of his body, oddly making him look sickly.

The second image has a lot of "Other" types of issues. The lighting of this picture is well lit, but unbalanced. His hair looks more thin in this picture, and the outfit he chose to show off more of his gains, very much show off too much. Making the picture look awkward. This ignoring the MORE obvious bulge in this photo vs the first one.

Now. Let me explain this as I was raised by a family made of 80% women. And by no less than 3 generations of them. The first image is the "Teddy Bear" women like after they done fucking around and want a husband. Proof of this could be seen if you put both of the before and after into suits that fit them within reason. Version one looks like a youth pastor with love handles, version two looks like a lifer and an athlete. At least to people at face value. However, every single time I have watched a movie with women present, and a man takes off his shirt and is ripped, I've heard this inevitable, "Ugh he's so hot". Meanwhile in movies where some of these same men are less shredded, or alternatively one of the main characters is a parody of the "Hero" archetype, when he takes off his shirt, everyone laughs. No one serious, "Mhmm he's hot".

Men are pretty much trained to catch on to this stuff because every single time a shredded man comes on screen or a very LEAN character takes off their shirt, it's swoons across the board.

Long story short? The first picture is the type women "Settle for" the first is the type they fuck. Men see that. Men know that. And pretending it's not real because a few women are exceptions to this rule doesn't make it less true. Trends might well be changing, but if you were to ask most women (18-38) who is hotter between these guys, not much of a contest:

Just bodies alone, most women would simp over the first one. And let me make this very clear. The above ARE considered dad bods. What's more, actions and words speak drastically different.

Example: Woman and her husband, (my buddy) and me all go to the movies. I'm quite literally DRAGGED to this movie. This lad comes on the screen and like fucking clock work, from a lot of women in the theater I hear all the different sounds. Including from my buddies wife.

My buddy talked to me about it later and the one thing he said I remember well is that she always calls him handsome or cute, never hot. And it bothered him. Granted, I'll give a small pass to the post. Generally speaking, unless the face is very attractive, women don't prefer "SHREDDED" men. They prefer fit men. Similar to the look of soccer players:

I love hearing the whole, "Lived Experience" from people on this site who then pretend that men haven't lived their own lives and seen what women swoon over. I myself have only been called hot a handful of times by a handful of women. And those women very much did the same BS of, "Well I love you not them, I just think they are hot", To which my response is, "Ok, looks alone, what exactly is it that makes him hot that disallows me from being called such". A few of them were actually honest and said it was because I was less fit than the men on screen. Others just played if off like no big deal.

Men pay more attention than people think. And we see how rare it is in general for women to go for larger men, unless they are planning to settle. Which men take as, "You are attractive enough to be with, but not attractive enough to fuck for recreation". And realistically? That's not only how we take it. That's what it looks like to anyone not making excuses.

And for the record, before my own personal lunatics come post on this, I have for a long time had a similar body type to the last image I posted above. Prior to that I was muscularly skinny with not enough mass to show abs.

i think the reason a lot of men are screaming, puking, and crying about this is bc it forces them to acknowledge that the reason they can’t get women to like them is not actually bc of their physique but bc of their shitty personality

[crepezinhos]

Patriarchy

POV: Waking up back to the 1700s wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be when you had your best friend, Phainon, accompanying you through your new journey. Now you have the chance to begin feminism yourself! How much more advanced will society be if manage to get women equal rights by 1800 instead of 1900?! But, when you were close to getting one right in specific, Phainon’s support of you was suddenly… gone.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a Yandere SFW work

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Contains: Possessive, obsessive and abusive behavior, a bit of physical abuse, misogynistic behavior and confinement.

— Arranged!Phainon x Arranged!Reader

— AU is: 1700s Europe

“Y/N! You’re back!” Phainon screamed excitedly from the main staircase of your shared palace when he saw you standing in your mansion’s entrance, beginning to step down towards you faster than he was doing previously. “How was it on the streets today?” He asked when he finally finished climbing down and jumped off the stairs, walking towards you with his arms behind his back excitedly.

You, happy to see him too, were quick to take off your hat, jacket and accessories with the help of your lady-in-honor, staring back at Phainon’s joyful ocean-blue eyes.

“It was fine. The army resistance was surprisingly very little today so we didn’t have much trouble doing our protest.” You reciprocated his excitement, bowing to your maid in gratefulness before she could start walking away and taking your things back to your bedroom.

“That’s great to hear, Y/N!” Phainon replied, eyes shining with pure admiration of your courage. “I also have good news.” He blinked to you with a smirky grin in his lips, just waiting for you to ask him about his achievement so he could brag about whatever he’d done.

“Oh? What is it?” You crossed your arms casually, finally putting an end to the classy and formal behavior that you adapted to to follow the societal norms of the town where you two live in.

Phainon decided to fix his throat and tie before he could answer you, trying to make himself a bit more classy and snobby before flexing whatever news he had.

“Our pads and tampons are making such a huge success that one of my investors managed to begin trading our products with all North, Central and South America.” Phainon talked in a slightly sarcastic tone, obviously trying to exaggerate it to you so you could be extra happier with it.

“Are you serious?! No way! All three Americas at the same time?!” You gasped in shock, almost skipping in joy while imagining what would be all kinds of women trying out those items and finding out just how extraordinarily better they are than whatever they were currently using to absorb their menstruations.

“Yessir!” Phainon opened both his arms,welcoming all that joy you were expressing.

Every day, Phainon somehow managed to surprise you with good news and raise your spirits about your current life whether it was because of his mindless kindness and consideration of you or with his intelligent marketing skills. You admired him so much that you didn’t even like imagining what would your life be without him in this universe. You’d probably just find yourself marrying an old man who has zero interest or empathy with you, much less in your feminist ideals, and only gives you the bare minimum attention to keep you sane.

The difference between all men and Phainon is that you and him were modern. While other men thought with a non-industrial mindset of making a few thousands for profit, Phainon, who has lived with billionaires, thinks immediately about the millions he can profit because he knows exactly what to invest in. And while other women were mostly illiterate and solely worried with things like their marriage and birthing dozens of kids for their husbands, you were worried about ‘men things’ such as the job market and human progress and you had knowledge about all sorts of things. Because of this, you two were an extremely powerful duo. Your success was sudden, massive and impressive, leaving every man and woman from all social classes either inspired or envious. You two reigned everything. Either your or Phainon’s presence was highly valued in every party you stepped in, whether as an annoyance, taking everyone’s eyes away from the main objective of the ball, or as a blessing, since your presence meant that the party was entertaining.

After all, whatever the perfect couple interacts with or believes in, many others will want to interact with it or follow your beliefs too.

Yes, you and Phainon were technically a couple that got married a few months ago, but in practice, you two didn’t even sleep in the same room. It was an arranged business that you two agreed to do because women cannot really live without a husband and neither you or Phainon wanted you to be bullied for the rest of your life, so joining family, money and forces was obviously the smartest choice. You two had a little wedding and a marriage certification, but no kiss was ever seen after the fake one in the altar.

Your ‘marriage’ was actually one of the first triggers to awaken women into feminism. It was completely alternative. You weren’t forced to display affection with him publicly, you had all rights to complain and raise your voice to Phainon, Phainon had zero demands to you regarding his satisfaction with his life or kids, while at the same time he’d spoil you nonstop. It made women crave that freedom from their husbands, who all thought you were a greedy witch and that Phainon deserved better. But there was nothing they could do about it. His money reigned the country. So much that it made this sinful way of life of yours affordable and even cultural. It’s not his fault he know as exactly what inventions will be successful or not, but he’ll only keep growing, and whatever you two do will be what people want to do too. ‘His’ idea about creating tampons and pads was actually a request from you. Using random, non-absorbing cloths as pads was horrible and barely efficient, making your routine horrible during menstruation, so you decided to talk to Phainon about it, who immediately went after the creation of tampons and pads. A perfect example of how you two were iconic. Phainon already knew tampons and pads would be an immediate millionaire success, and all women envied the dedication of your husband to you compared their own men.

There is so much Phainon has done to you… He gave you a whole personal room for you to sleep in without him, a whole garden that had all the flowers you wished, he bought you all the dresses and makeup you wanted and every reform and furniture of the house was ordered by you. It felt like his life mission was assuring you a comfortable, almost free life, but it still felt incomplete to you because of one reason. The inferiority of women. Seeing women being sent away at age of 15 to marry a 40 year-old man made your heart ache with anguish. Seeing men shame prostitutes for their jobs and even throw tiny rocks on them made you angry. Seeing men’s hypocrisy to force women into a religion and a cult of purity that they don’t follow on their own made your blood boil… A much larger list of failures in this patriarchal system made you revolt, so you begun using your influence and money to create feminism.

And your ideas were expectedly booming between all women of your country, and Congress was slowly becoming more and more convinced that it wouldn’t be horrible idea to give women a few rights.

“I know I’m awesome, I know.” Phainon used a hand to push his frontal hair back to act even prouder of himself in front of you.

“We’re making so much progress in so little time! I can’t believe we are the first era of feminists and we’re turning out to be so successful!” You tip-toed in the floor, holding your own cheeks with excitement.

“We? No, no, no… you.” Phainon’s fingers suddenly reached to your chest bone and pressed it down, forcing all the credits for the success of the feminist movement to you. “And a lady like you deserves a delicious meal in compensation for her work, don’t you think?” He took away his finger off you, but his face leaned a bit closer to you too, staring at you deeply with admiration. “Follow me, Y/N.” He blinked a bit seductively, making you giggle, and when you looked down, his hands was hanging open in front of you just waiting for you to hold it.

And so you did, inflating your chest with air to show him your excitement and how high were your expectations. Phainon giggled at your behavior, beginning to gently pull you around the house.

You and Phainon silently walked in direction of the dinging room, only a few noises of creaking wood accompanying your steps. The silence wasn’t awkward, only a bit tense due to the circumstances you were in. Every corridor you two walked through, the house would become quieter and darker despite still being early afternoon. Your dining room was in a corner of the house where no background noise could annoy you and him, meaning it was distant from the home’s main entrance. And when you had finally reached the long, dark and narrow hall that led to nothing but the dining room in its end, Phainon decided to break the silence.

“You also have a second appointment today, don’t you? Or maybe tomorrow? Or maybe it already happened?” Phainon turned half of his face to you, staring at you with curiosity.

“A second appointment? I don’t—” Before you could finish speaking, your brain suddenly brought back a memory of you and some of your friends talking about future plans and played it for you.

It was you, Ms. Castorice and Ms. Algaea, the other two co-leaders of your movement, discussing about some great news in Aglaea’s mansion. Congress had accepted to participate in a debate with you and a team of other 5 people about giving women a few rights. You and them were discussing about which topics to bring up, which people to form a team with, and when should the debate happen.

“Cat got your tongue?” Phainon woke you up from your thoughts, laughing at your frozen face and still staring at it now with a mischievous stare.

“I do!” You snapped the fingers of your other free hands. “I-I have to go to Congress by 6 tonight!” Phainon’s eyes widened when you reminded him of what appointment was scheduled for today or maybe sometime else.

“Ah, yes!” Phainon stopped walking and let your hand go. “You were telling me about your plans for it a few days ago!” He pointed to you with a hand, trying to relate to you.

“Yes, yes, yes! I’ve prepared such good arguments to tell the Congress! It’ll be very difficult for them for them to deny our requests, much less with a good reason!” You crossed your arms again, remembering the expectations you had set. “Can you imagine? By tomorrow we might get the right to divorce! Women will get the right to divorce!” Phainon’s eyes widened when he felt the impact of those news.

“Seriously? The right to divorce this early?!” His mouth dropped to the floor as you confidently nodded to him.

“Yessir! We might finally be able to ask for a divorce too!” You laughed at your own additional words, but you quickly realized that Phainon went fully quiet while you were, so you stopped laughed and looked him, only to see he did not reciprocate, still with the same widened expression in his face, but his mouth was not smiley anymore.

“What do you mean?” He asked a bit confused.

“Me and you… Getting a divorce…” You pointed to him and you as you spoke, then you put your hands together only to separate them, representing what divorce was.

But Phainon’s expression turned horrified and almost pale when you separated your hands from each other, apparently taking it as a genuine offense.

“Why..?” His eyebrows frowned, looking as you worried.

“Well.. because we aren’t exactly married… This is all just for survival, remember?” You laughed a bit to try cooling him off, but Phainon’s expression only seemed to sadden even more.

“But… we’re fine together, aren’t we? We’re surviving really well, aren’t we? So why would you want to divorce?” Phainon stepped closer to you once, and this hall started to feel like it’d became narrower.

“W-Well, yeah, we’re doing good, but if I get women the right to divorce and to work independently, I won’t need you anymore… I mean, we were not doing this back in Amphoreus for a reason…” You laughed it off again, but then his hurt expression and silence made you realize you shouldn’t be giving him any reasoning. “What’s going on, Phainon?” You darkened your expression, trying to get straight to the point.

“I’ve been a good husband, haven’t I? I’ve made you happy all this time, haven’t I?” Phainon now sounded visibly anxious, breath almost hitching as he slowly stepped closer and closer to you, forcing you to repel and step backwards.

“Yeah, Phainon, but you’re not actually my husband. No need to call yourself one…” You laughed at his words, not sympathizing with his worry. “This is all an act for us to survive in this society, remember? There is no actual love or dependence between us or anything…” Phainon’s eyes widened with that last phrase as if you said something that just crushed his heart.

“W-What..?” Phainon’s cute puppy eyes stared at you with dying hope, but you still didn’t feel the slightest pity for him.

“Phainon, seriously, what the fuck is going on?” You decided to step forward this time, setting your ground for him to understand he was almost disrespecting your space.

Phainon didn’t answer you at first, only reluctantly staring at your eyes with his shaky blue pupils. It costed him quite a while to build courage to be truthful with you, gulping down his accumulated saliva and turning his head down to avoid the shame of what he has in his mind.

“I… I don’t want a divorce.” His confession came out as loud as a whisper, which made you not understand what he said initially and forced you to guess it.

Jointing the few syllables you’ve heard and assuming the words and articles he’d said with the help of context clues, you’d concluded he’d said ‘I don’t want a divorce’, which immediately triggered you to have a negative reaction. But you still remained quiet, trying to comprehend why would he want to stay married to you. Maybe he’s afraid to live without a wife in this rigid society? But he’s a man… You are the one supposed to be afraid of living without a husband. Or maybe he’s thinking about that? About your safety and comfort living in this society without a husband? Or maybe… that alternative you’ve been avoiding to recognize ever since the day of your ‘marriage’..?

…

No, it can’t be. He would never.

So you just sighed, throwing that thought to the back of your and concluding your investigation. Phainon did not want a divorce, and he doesn’t want it because he’s worried about you.

“You don’t a want a divorce?” You firmly queried, trying to have a bit of confirmation over your guess, a hand of yours moving to the necklace you wore to fidget it while he answered.

“Yes…” He mumbled shyly and you scoffed in pride of having guessed it correctly, still not understanding why was he be acting like this if his intentions were so pure.

“Why?” You inflated your chest again, preparing for whatever he wanted to say now.

“Because…” He tried to answer your question immediately, but the knot in his throat impeded him from finishing. “Because…” And he tried again, a bit less desperately, failing so miserably he looked down to the floor again in embarrassment.

And so, you exhaled, letting all that imprisoned air in your lungs in a sigh. Since he couldn’t say it for himself, you’d do it for him.

“I appreciate your worry for my comfort, Phainon, but I can definitely live on my own. I don’t care about what these people have to say about me and my choices. In fact, they can feel free to bully me as much as they want, I’ll still be milking more money than them in the end of the day.” You spoke less firmly, trying to see if that would make him feel comfortable to be more honest with you. “I can’t even guarantee that we will get the right to divorce in the first place anyway…” You tried to be a bit more optimistic, but then you immediately regretted it in recognition that it is needed to be realistic in a situation like this. “But I’ll still go to Congress today and fight for it. For me and all the women that need to get away from their husbands.” You could see Phainon swallowing another big chunk of saliva when you finished talking, surprisingly having a negative reaction again.

“For you? Why you?” Phainon stepped closer once again, face only becoming more stunned, which truly disturbed you.

“You’re scaring me, Phainon.” You brought your shoulders closer to your body, trying to make yourself more resistant and tolerable to his behavior.

“I don’t mean to scare you, Y/N… I just want to know why do you want a divorce when we’re so happy together…” He tried to argue in a way that still didn’t reveal his reason, but seeing how unmoved and suspicious you still were of him, he sighed and squinted his eyes. “I don’t want a divorce…” He stated his intentions again, but in a weak tone that made him sound like a hungry puppy, trying to make you feel guilty.

And that pissed you off. You believed Phainon was genuinely not trying to intentionally manipulate you into staying married him, but he was still acting unreasonably.

“But I do.” You countered him firmly. “And I will get it.” You wanted to turn away and immediately walk back to your room, but the moment you spun your right foot, before you could even start about turning your full body away from him, Phainon reacted to your words.

“No, you won’t..!” The tone of his voice deepened in such a rapid way that made you stop and look back at his eyes immediately, a sense of danger growing in the back of your mind.

“Yes, I will.” Feeling even more cornered by the hall’s tightness and afraid of Phainon, you decided to turn away abruptly in a speed that would stun Phainon for a moment before he could possibly catch you and bring you back to the discussion.

“Where are you going..?!” You heard Phainon stomp forward harshly, launching himself forward to reach your wrist and hold you tight with his large hand.

“Let me go, Phainon.” You decided to turn your eyes back to his again, trying to use your presence to order him, forcing yourself to control your voice from shaking as you spoke, taking his action as a threat to your security.

“Why are you trying to leave..? Why are you trying to leave me?!” His eyes were fully widened with anguish as he desperately filled you with two questions to answer.

“I’m just… not hungry anymore. I’ll eat later.” You quickly mumbled a fake reasoning, but it didn’t seem to convince him. After all, Phainon’s eyebrows noticeably frowned.

“That’s not true. Why are you lying to me..?” His grip in your wrist tightened in a way that made you grunt from the pain.

“Phainon, you’re hurting me..!” You tried to pull your hand away from him, only to be fully held back, which only made you even more nervous and scared of him.

“I don’t want us to divorce, Y/N… We don’t need a divorce…” He suddenly turned a bit soft again, endlessly trying to argue with you about that despite the fact that he was really freaking you out.

“I-I need to prepare for Congress, Phainon..! Let me go at this instant!” You even tried stepping away from him, seeing if it was possible to run away, but it didn’t work due to his heavy weight holding you back.

“No…” He mumbled, looking the deepest he could to your eyes, still trying to find any bit of pity in you and hope for himself.

“You’re only giving me more reasons to divorce you right now, Phainon..! Let me go now!” You had no choice but to try facing him with your own strength, now trying to use your other hand to grab that wrist of his to pull it away from you.

“No… We can’t divorce…” His repetitiveness finally made you snap.

“Yes we can and we will!” You launched your face forward and screamed at him, trying to shake your hand out of his grip the fullest you could.

But that triggered him snap too in reaction to your audacity in making such a hurtful statement.

“NO, WE WON’T!” He screamed at a tone that you’ve never heard from him and didn’t recognize, also finally releasing your wrist.

But before you give your first step backward, or think about his change in tone, something else stunned you again.

SLAP!

Your body immediately fell to the ground as Phainon’s hand smacked across your face, your feet enrolling themselves with the thick layers of your dress, giving your instincts time to only put your palms in the wooden floor before your head actually hit the ground, meaning you successfully landed sat instead of fully laid. But you recovered a second after the fall, so you immediately placed a hand on the cheek Phainon had slapped to ease the arduous pain he inflicted on you and rose your head up to him, finding him powerfully standing right in front of you, staring at you like a caught prey, jailed in a cage.

Neither of you spoke for the next seconds to process what had just happened and only breathed with opened mouths. The more you thought, the more frightened for your life you became, remembering the sudden change in his tone to one you’ve never heard, the slap itself and the threat it represented to your relationship… But the more he thought, the more calm he became in realization that you were frozen in fear, defeated by his action. And that’s why after a last round of breathing in and out deeply, he shut his mouth and calmly walked closer to you, kneeling down in front of you.

“Y/N…” A hand of his also reached the same cheek you were holding, cupping it gently, which only made your skin shiver with disgust of his touch, begging yourself to scream at him to get the fuck away from you. “I’m… I-I’m sorry…” He briefly wheezed, trying to ease the both of you from the mood. “I didn’t mean to… do this… or… t-to scare you.” He pathetically smiled at you, only making you wish to run away from him even more, but your adrenaline could only afford to freeze your body in that sat position. “I just… don’t want us to divorce… There’s no good reason to do that… That’s all…” He gulped down again.

You knew it. Deep down, you’ve always known it. You just didn’t want to admit it.

But maybe… you should’ve definitely talked to him about it sooner.

Phainon’s kindness… was never just friendly.

And there were always many little signs that rose that flag…

For example, the way he’d stare at you whenever he gave you a gift, sometimes only a few inches away from your face, just waiting to see the amazing reaction he’d rip out of you. Deep down, it always felt like he urged for more of something you couldn’t name until now. It didn’t feel like he just wanted your comfort and happiness because that’s what friends do, it felt like he did it as if he was your lover. These little gifts, perfectly enveloped in a beautiful wrap, felt like little seduction attempts. After all, the next gift would always be better than the next, as if he wanted to show just how dedicated he is, and convince your heart to let yourself fall for him.

The way he treated you during the day of your marriage… In the altar, what was supposed to be just a quick smooch to pose a fake picture of yourselves to the crowd witnessing you, turned out to be so much more touchy, intimate and even… real, like real couples do. And even when the vows were done, he kept throwing himself at you and holding your hands for the rest of the celebration party, for some reason so happy with the day. Friends don’t stick their tongues inside their friends’ mouths when it’s needed to fake a kiss. It wasn’t just an act.

And the one habit that mostly made you icky about thinking about Phainon’s possibly feeling things for you… The way his eyes stoned in you and his cheeks flushed whenever he saw you trying any ball dresses and makeup for the parties you were invited to or even when he saw you in your rendered pijamas when you two were home… They always delivered you a message of lust, and you don’t want any of your friends to lust over you, much less Phainon in such a situation like yours right now. But it was true, Phainon would not react to you being pretty like a friend would.

You should’ve accepted it sooner. But now it’s too late. You’ve let this grow. You are reaping what you sowed.

Phainon liked you as more than a friend.

“But think about it… Wouldn’t it be iconic? The leader of the feminist movement herself doing all of this work to get the right of divorce when she, on her own, does not desire to divorce her husband? You could show them that it is possible to be a feminist and be a married woman at the same time…” His thumb caressed your hand, lamenting that he couldn’t directly reach your fluffy cheek.

But you were still too stunned to say anything, despite the thousands of protests running in your mind, begging to be shouted.

“We are such a good duo… Why would you ever want to put and end to us? Put an end to our influence? Our impact? Our empire?” Phainon looked at you with more pity, assuming his position of total power over you. “We don’t need to be exactly like other couples… I would never force you to do that… We can still be exactly like how we are today, but all I want is to still be able to live in the same house as you… and call you my wife.” Phainon pulled that hand of yours that held your cheek and turned it around, making your palm face down.

And with very slow movements, he smooched your knuckles, smiling softly at them. And then he looked down at your fingers, meeting that engagement ring that the both of you were forced to wear to avoid any accusations or bullying, and that made his grin grow, blue eyes shining with joy. He leaned down and kissed the ring too with more intensity, sucking your skin for a bit to demonstrate just how much he valued that golden ring.

“I just want you to wear this ring with me for the rest of your life… Is that too much to ask from you? I’ve done so many harder things for you…” Phainon laid his cheek on your hand, rubbing himself against it as if it was the comfiest pillow he’d ever laid on.

He kept doing that for a few seconds before he kissed your hand again… and then again… again, again and again, many spots in it becoming a bit moistened with his saliva. He even turned your hand around and begun kissing your palm and its heel as deep as he could.

“I love you, Y/N…” He mumbled in your skin with closed eyes, breath warming up your skin. “I really do…” He made sure his message was clearly sent to you, pausing for a moment to let you absorb it. “But I can’t let you do this to us… to me…” He opened his eyes, staring at you with a weird kind of pity again, as if he wasn’t bothered by your discomfort, like a masochist would.

But then he stood up again, not offering you any help to get up too.

“You won’t go to Congress today.” He stated a bit more seriously, contrasting his previous tone as he stared down at you very firmly, before he started to calmly walk away from the scene as if he hadn’t just done something completely absurd and out of normal.

Your eyes followed his body in fear, watching him walk with his hands holding each other behind his back ao elegantly, each step making the wood planks creak a bit. In the end of the hall, where you two came from, Phainon met one of your many maids standing still with an uncomfortable expression visible in her face, but still forcing herself to do her job as either your or his servant.

“If you see her trying to leave tonight, don’t let her. You understand?” Phainon spoke to the maid very gently, contrasting himself once again.

“Yes, sir.” She nodded, assuming her new responsibility.

“Good. You may call me or the guards in the gate if that happens.” Phainon assigned the maid her permissions, making her nod again, but silently. “Go tell the other maids their new assignment.” He used to a hand to tap her shoulder twice very sweetly.

“Yes, my master.” She gently bowed to him again, making Phainon grin, feeling comfortable enough to keep walking away from the scene.

When he finally turned to the left and fully left you alone, the maid looked at you again, staring at your pitiful situation with mixed feelings. It was a silent communication, but you could still get her general message, the same way she could get yours.

After all the efforts you’ve been doing to push a feminist agenda in your town to all kinds of women and men, you’ve failed to do that in your own home with your own maids. The same women who were stuck in your palace, working 24/7 to keep every detail of your home perfect and make your routine as easy as possible, were neglected by you and your movement, just like how in real life some women were neglected from the early stages of feminism too. And now you were suffering the harshest consequences of it you could suffer. She pitied you and even seemed to wish she could do something for you, but all she was ever taught to do in this sort of job was obey the man’s command, meaning she’d betray her own beliefs and risk her whole career if she dared to think about helping you, which would be disobeying Phainon. So all she could do was give that silent treatment until she couldn’t bare her own grief anymore and begun to walk away in the same direction as Phainon did, beginning to call him by his nickname, her voice echoing in your ears lightly.

How could you forget? You live in a conservative patriarchy.

Phainon is the man in your relationship.

In conservative patriarchies, the man is always the leader. The woman is just his follower. A servant who is always mindlessly ready to please him.

And he likes this system the way it is.

Today he just made that very clear. The roles of the relationship were established.

Taglist: @gaboplaydespacito

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it! <3

[torglives]

on pangi and abandonment

awhile ago, on stream, lukey threw around the words commitment issues when talking about tr pangkey. it is more likely than not that he was talking about his own character, but a lot of the audience assumed he was taking a shot at pangi. which is very… hmm! not in a bad way, i think it just goes to show how easy it is to misinterpret his actions if you aren't clocked into the way he navigates his relationships with people.

he obviously has issues, but with his attachments they stem more from (i'd argue entirely from) his deep-rooted fear of abandonment rather than commitment.

pangi is passionately committed to people. this has never been something he's tried to hide or keep secret. it's something that cc pili mentioned during an on-stream ooc conversation about pangili/pangkey (watch that whole conversation, actually. he's nailed pangi's character very well. and his own obviously but that's a given. i love pili) -- "there is you who, i feel like you have separation anxiety to some degree. i feel like you're very "it's this person, or nothing." ... kind of like a ride or die situation." -- he brings up also, why this was such a point of contention between pangili1, because they had very different attachment styles, with mocha tending to lean towards avoidant attachment.

in the clip linked, a chatter says "abandonment issues hmm i wonder why (lifesteal)"-- and that's the perfect segway for me to drag ls pangi back into the spotlight. yay! i've said this before, but lifesteal and pangi's relationships on the server/throughout its history are probably one of the most important keys to really understanding him. on lifesteal, pangi has never truly been anyone's first choice. he devotes himself to people, to causes, but no matter how hard he'll ride or die for those things, it is never reciprocated. at his core, he is very lonely. he's not wanted in the way he wants to be wanted, but gives it his all anyway. it always ends the same way, he always ends up the same way: alone. quite literally abandoned.

of course this translates into the realm, and pangi finally finds someone who, to him, is what he's been looking for--his ride or die. his person, as much as he is theirs--in pili. it's pili or nothing, and this is the first time it's been mutual, so he plays it by ear. he lets it grow into co-dependancy willingly, because to be wanted is everything he's been looking for. but pangi is no stranger to abandonment, and during their first crisis, when pili says 'i don't trust you anymore,' pangi shuts down. he tries re-working over that open wound that pili left in his (VERY BRIEF) absence, because it's how he's learned to adapt. they, of course, come back together. and then pili dies, brutally, in front of him, with clown in mind. in february, after mocha died, i wrote this in an (outdated) (so i won’t link it) thought post:

pangi, as a character, is unable to linger. he feels the need to jump from thing to thing, never giving himself the proper time to sit and process. when his worst fear is proven, when he is shown that he isn't wanted or needed somewhere--he shuts down the part of himself that was trying to be wanted and needed. his way of 'staying on top of it all' is just adding another layer. he buries it under something new, and tries to forget about it and barrel onto the next thing. it never works.

which applies here too. i think it says everything i could even say. pili dies, and pangi is once again alone. despite his commitment, despite pili’s, it wasn’t enough.

and then ros and aimsey come along, and they’re kind to him--they get stuck in the null together, and nobody else can understand that outside the three of them. they both say things like "it’s us against the world," and "the three of us," and this works for awhile. pangi has people he can devote himself to, but this time it’s different, because there’s a disconnect--there’s a part of pangi that they don’t understand, the parts that more or less belonged to pili. pangi gives his all, but more importantly, his trust, but he’s never been great with words, and there’s no intrinsic understanding of violence like he’s used to, so it causes fallout. pili and pangi shared a similar mindset, that’s part of what made them work so well. for pangi, pili had aspects of home. ros and aimsey, despite how much they care, don’t understand that culture. ros breaks his trust, once, and to him, that’s abandonment. that’s always been a tell-tale sign of it. that’s betrayal, so pangi refuses to linger. he kills at the ball, takes the brunt of their anger, and leaves, because someone must leave. someone always must leave, so he does.

aimsey finds him a few days after, and says: "why did you think we hated you? it’s not like you do one thing that makes us upset and suddenly you’re the worst person in the world." -- but honestly, that’s all pangi knows. it’s all, or it’s nothing.

he still cares about them, so much, but it has put a permanent strain on their relationship, on his trust for them, because they don’t understand each other in the same way. he cannot be truly devoted to them, because he has been shown that they are not truly devoted to him. and that’s not their fault, not at all, it’s simply a gap in understanding. it’s something that pangi doesn’t understand about them, or them about pangi.

what’s that quote? "if you give me the slightest hint of abandonment and withdrawal, i would outdo you."

i could go into detail about the intricacies with his relationship with lukey too, but if you compare them to the points i’ve listed i’m sure you can draw the conclusions yourself--why they work so well, aligning in areas that have been missing.

people are very familiar with his hate, because it burns bright and is unavoidable. people are less familiar with his love, just as passionate, because it is easier to overlook, it’s less common. he is undoubtably devoted to those he hates and those he loves, and is consumed by how he feels for both of them. he will always commit, but is terrified at the slightest taste of being left behind, of being a second choice. of not meaning to others what they mean to him. again. it’s all, or it’s nothing.

[mylastmoleculeofserotonin]

How is Silco actively trying to make her mental health worse for his personal gain

Did we watch the same show??

I’m planning to make a post going more in depth on this later, but basically it boils down to:

1) He takes her history with Vi and twists his with Vander to make it seem similar as a way to create a false sense of closeness and solidarity between them. He uses this as “proof” that she cannot rely on anyone else, making her extremely dependent on him and him alone for everything from getting her basic needs met, to emotional support. Which alone is bad enough for one’s mental health, not to mention that his approval and affection is connected to how well she performs in missions/what she does to further his plans. Now where I got the intentionality from is that what happened between Silco and Vander was, to put it generously, a conflict of ideologies between two adults, whereas what happened with Vi and Powder was the heat of the moment getting the better of Vi after Powder accidentally killed their whole family as kids. And Silco knew this: prior to the time skip, the only things he says to/about Vander are about their ideologies, how he doesn’t hate him for trying to murder him, and that this whole thing isn’t personal, it’s a necessary step in his plan, the base violence necessary for change. However, that narrative changes completely when he talks to Jinx about it. Silco overemphasized/exaggerated how close he and Vander were and completely downplayed the ideological reasons that pushed them into conflict since that was 100% not what came between Vi and Powder, instead implying it came out of nowhere. Also he talks about it a lot to Jinx even though he was supposedly over it, creating too much disparity for there not to have been at least some level of twisting the story. (Now, even if he genuinely did see it as that harsh of a betrayal and truly is a deeply still affected by it, dumping it onto his teenage daughter who supposedly went through the same thing and using it to tell her to never rely on anyone else while he fully trusts and relies upon at least Sevika if not some other of his operatives, making it still an intentional action to worsen her mental health).

2) he encourages her conflict of identity: Jinx, in season one, is still torn between her identities as Powder and Jinx, and the mentally healthy and constructive thing to do would be to help her accept both parts of herself to create an identity where “I destroy everything I touch” isn’t the core of it (as we see with AU Powder). But that’s the exact opposite of what Silco does. He creates a false dichotomy between Powder and Jinx, saying that one is the source of all her weaknesses and needs to die and the other is perfect and can do no wrong. Accepting and embracing one’s shortcomings is necessary for good and stable mental health, however, Jinx feeling like she’s not allowed to be weak and has to be perfect like Silco says she is, lest she disappoints/lets him down is one of the worst things for one’s mental health. Plus the fact that what made her become Jinx was one mistake and the Powder=mistakes=weakness/Jinx=perfection=strength narrative he spins for her doesn’t allow for her to process her trauma and encourages her to push aside any mistakes she makes and bottle up the subsequent emotions which also is awful for her mental health.

3) He gives a very young, traumatized kid military grade weapons and has her run jobs to hurt her community for his crime empire. Not to mention that one of those said weapon is explosives, the very thing that caused her so much trauma. Also, he has her make another hextech explosive and when she says no, it’s too traumatizing, he still forces her to do it and uses it as an opportunity to bring up the first two points.

4) He only shows his approval/gives her affection when she is successful. The only times we see him be affectionate/approving of her is when she steals the hex tech gemstone and helps him with his eye. Meanwhile, when she is clearly suffering after the mission in episode 3, he only addresses it in terms of “what happened and how can we fix it” while barely looking at her before sending her away. The last thing Jinx needs is to be deprived of connection when she fails at something/makes a mistake as that was also at the center of her past trauma, which Silco is fully aware of and yet still does to her anyway.

5) the only time where we really see that he may genuinely care about her is when he is prepared to sacrifice the peace treaty for her. However, we get to hear his true thoughts about her and it is clear that he sees her as his undoing bc he couldn’t help but grow attached to her. Which definitely implicates that he was actively trying to avoid forging emotional connections with her while he makes her so dependent on him. This is reinforced by the fact that he saw Vander’s kids as prizes to be won, not children to be adopted or even people to be cared for, but tools to be used.

6) and this one isn’t one that he would have for certain known and actively used against her, but Powder’s main motivation is to help those she cares about, and with Silco, helping him is equated with hurting others, which again world exacerbate her conflict of identity and making it extraordinarily difficult to see herself as a good person, which is also a key factor in children’s development and mental health.

And out of doing all this, he gains an unwaveringly loyal teenage super soldier who everyone in the undercity is deeply terrified of.

Now with all that said, this isn’t meant as any hate towards Silco or anyone who likes him. I find him an extremely well written and compelling character. I just think he’s an awful person.

[omgfangirlland]

I'VE GOT ANOTHER IDEAAAAA! (I swear this ideas only appears when I'm about to sleep/stressed or when it is 3am) listen.. A neglected fem reader x batfam ooooor we can change it up to a neglected reader x superfam. Imagine, the reader was born as a Kent but has no superpowers. (Add how ben ten got his watch) or we can go to the same way.. The batfam x neglected reader.. Reader is a normal civilian just going about their days until she got that watch. (I'mma sleep.. I can't take it anymore.. ///orz///)

-🔱

FINALLY THE ASK I WANTED TO ANSWER SINCE I SAW IT-

🫀 anon, I saw your ask, I'll respond asap, I'm just trying to go from oldest to newest. Also- 🔱 anon, If I don't come up with an actual well-written one-shot about the aware!Marvel Characters soon, I'll just answer in this drabble/rant/spew stuff and see what sticks style.

I think the Superfam with a NoPowers!Ben10!Reader would be hilarious, actually- Perhaps even Anti-hero!Reader? Doing the right thing for the wrong reason.

Unlike the Batfam, I think the neglect wouldn't be as severe. Like, Jon seems like a very friendly and clingy kid, he'd love his big/lil sister with his whole being- especially if she didn't have powers, he'd feel like it's his duty to protect her.

And Kon may just get attached based purely on you accepting him before Clark does.( I'm a strong believer in robot and clone rights- unless they're the pure evil kind- looking at Clone!Shephard from Mass Effect. We could have reigned the universe together 😭) Like you being the one to stand up for him in the face of Clark would make him want to show you the same loyalty. You didn't see him as a weapon, as a cheap copy, as a means to an end, you saw him as human, as someone who deserves a chance.

If you want to make this unintentional neglect, the boys could be so scared about you hurting yourself or them hurting you that they deliberately ask you to set out of things. Playing rugby, football, or roughhousing? Sorry, you're just too fragile, they may break you. Helping them or trying to be their own personal Oracle? Yeah, no, what if a badie finds out about you?

Now- The worse in the neglect, I think, would be Clark- but let's first start with Grandmama and Grandpapa. They love all their grandkids, but they're farmers, awake as soon as it hits four a.m., they're busy and not really in their prime to be able to keep up with the kiddies and the farm.

So, while Kon and Jon can do so much of the heavy lifting, you're really left with washing dishes, cleaning, feeding the chickens, and watching from a distance as the boys are giggling. They are pushing you away without even realizing that.

Lois I don't think she's a bad parent, no mother who is working is a bad parent. But I do think she'd brush off stuff like you scrapping your knee or stubbing your toe in a way she didn't mean to come off as rude as it did. Small things that Jon, Kon, and Clark didn't experience, and small things she, as a grown woman, learned to not even blink at. Really, she just forgets that human children are very fragile, that they need to be coddled more.

And now Clark. He's Superman. You'll be talking his ear off, holding something in your hands, and the next second he's gone with a sorry, off to save the world. By the time he comes back, you've already gone to do something else.

He still remembers your birthday, but instead of spending time with you like he does with the boys, taking them flying and whatever else they do, he just buys you the same doll you've started hating years ago and pats your shoulder as he wishes you a happy birthday.

He promises to come to your parent's day school event, to the field day stuff, to everything you ask him. But he doesn't show up, and after the few times he forgot to pick you up, you just started accepting rides from your friend's parents and stopped asking him anything. You stopped talking to him entirely, and him not even noticing, hurt more than the broken promises.

And while all of these things aren't the worst things possible, they build up, insecurities taking hold and burying deep. You stop asking to play with the boys, you stop asking to go to your grandparents, you stop going to your parents for help, you stop considering yourself as someone who can help. You start to think of yourself as a liability. You learn that you're just different, and not in the way that'll make you integrate, not in the way Clark- in the way Superman needs.

You learned to be quiet a long time ago, living with supers who can hear your heartbeat took away from the privacy you should have had, so you did your best to keep the little things you could to yourself.

Started typing your thoughts, learned to cry without making a sound, and learned to keep your footsteps as light as possible. Granted, you didn't think they'd care to listen in to whatever you were doing, you weren't even sure if they knew that half of your free time was spent locked in your room, while the other half was spent outside, catching a bus and walking the rest of the way outside the city just to see what the boys always can if they just fly high enough, the stars.

Almost being killed by a shooting star wasn't the way you thought you'd go out- alas, you survived and got yourself a nice watch- well... it got you. Accidentally becoming an alien- more alien than you were- because of it wasn't on your to-do list, however.

After the mini scare of possibly being stuck as a flame alien, you decided to just never touch the watch again. You didn't go to show Clark, you didn't want him to start paying attention to you because of it, you wanted to be shown attention because of simply being you.

You didn't want to be a hero. But when an alien attacked your school and the building collapsed, trapping you and a few teachers and students in a room that was slowly caving in- you did what you had to do. Helping with Four Arms was a slippery slope, going from refusing to help to itching for it, especially as you got more and more cheers and love. It was selfish. But you were helping.

Sometimes it didn't give you the alien you wanted, and soon enough, you learned the thing is somewhat sentient, or had some sort of intelligence, giving you what you needed to not only understand the other aliens, but to also grow as a person, learning to be more strategic rather than a muscle tank just hitting until the problem stops.

Your parents didn't connect the dots, but Lex Luthor sure as hell did, and since you've picked up an interest in engineering, all he saw were opportunities.

Accepting his offer of a paid internship would be... bad. To put it mildly. He was your father's enemy, essentially the deadbeat parent of your oldest brother- but you've started being selfish a while ago. You've started being selfish and paranoid about your own parents. What if they decide that you're simply not worth even staying in their home anymore? What if they throw you out once you hit eighteen?

You accepted, remaining on your toes about the man. Just in case.

Now Lex expected you to be loud and hostile, not quiet and weary, but he can work with that- until he kept on listening more and more to you. He was a terrible parent to Kon. Point, blank, period. But boy, did it make him do a double-take on some things that fell out of your mouth. "What do you mean you broke your leg after a fight and went to an underground doctor instead of going to your parents, and now you sometimes limp?... What do you mean you don't think they'll care?"

"What do you mean your parents don't notice you being out late working for me?"

"What do you mean you kept an alien cat that eats humans for a week and nobody noticed?"

The more you give him, the more you're stressing him out- and, perhaps in a moment of weakness after hearing you jokingly(mockingly) refer to him as dad, he calls an old colleague asking for help.

"I have this intern who is... a meta." Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth after the man on the other side of the phone greets him. And he lies a bit... a lot. But he also strongly believes he could be a better parent if he actually tried. "And what I'm trying to say is- you have a lot of adopted kids. I need help on how to proceed so I can adopt her."

Bruce Wayne stares into the abyss for a while as he processes the word spew Lex just gave him. "...What?" Due to shock, and due to how sleep deprived he was, he doesn't really question who the parents are, or why he knows so much. He just gave him some indicators- hire a lawyer, call CPS, go the legal route- and sends a quick text to Clark about Lex possibly having ulterior motives regarding a meta teen.

The horror that settles over the family when a CPS agent, who may have received a very kind donation, comes knocking, and they can't even name one place you could be at, is enormous. Followed by complete disbelief, because what do you mean no one knows where this teen is? What do you mean she works for Lex?

Finding out that you are what the Justice League thought was a hive mind, calling themselves Omnitrix, would probably give Superman depression. You didn't trust him enough to tell him about your newfound powers, didn't trust him enough to even come to him about feeling neglected, and if for a second he thought that maybe Lex was right, he'd keep that thought to himself.

----

Batman, after finding out that it was Clark's "meta" kid: ... oops.

--

Lex, to Reader, probably: You're making me feel human things, like sympathy. How dare you?

--

Kon, awake for five days, wearing a "Kent for the win" shirt, to a reporter who didn't even ask: Are you going to believe the known criminal who pays off judges so he doesn't get any jail time, or the two reporter who keep speaking the truth and being whistle blowers on a lot of crazy shit these rich people do?