#like its not even about the person who did it to me its just like huh????????????? my brain does not comprehend how u could do it and not

[twenty-qs]

You know, one of my favorite under-the-radar interactions in Arcane is actually between Jayce and Vi.

On paper they have…literally nothing in common. One’s the golden boy science nerd, plastered all over Piltover as the symbol of progress, who has actively made decisions on the Council that made life in Zaun worse. One’s a bruiser who cut her teeth on the streets of Zaun, and then prison, as Piltover did its very best to forget she ever existed. They’ve had maybe, like, one actual conversation, in which Vi called him ‘pretty boy’ and Jayce looked deeply uncomfortable. But against all odds—they get along like a house on fire. I think Jayce is the only one Vi would have accepted weapons made of Hextech from; and I think Vi (and Caitlyn, but Vi came first) was the only person other than himself that Jayce would have made Hextech weapons for. They’re so in sync that they literally coordinate battle moves on the fly without needing to exchange a word. It might strike you as weird, at first. It’s just so improbable.

But it makes sense. Because the way they make decisions is almost the same—emotion. Impulse. Punch first, think later. Do what you think is right, and don’t wait for the world to give you permission, because it never will. They trust their gut and make snap decisions. And because the world of Arcane is morally gray, they usually regret it.

Which makes me think that some of the strongest parallels in this new season might actually be between Vi and Jayce. Arcane is about change. The price of change; the promises and dangers of change; and how people change, too. Vi and Jayce have been relatively stable character-wise. They change their minds about things, circumstances around them change, but at least at the end of s2e3, they’re still very recognizably themselves. Still punch first, think later. But the people around them have been undergoing extreme transformations.

Powder is now Jinx. Vi spent the entire first season refusing to see this, then failing to understand this. At the start of season 2, she still can’t reconcile the two in her mind—she can only conceive of them as literally two different people. Powder is dead. (I killed her.) All that’s left is Jinx. (I created her.) But the truth is that Jinx is still her little sister, is still the girl who was once Powder. Powder didn’t die—she changed.

Meanwhile, Caitlyn in season 2 is having a cataclysmic change because of her trauma and grief. The Caitlyn Vi fell in love with was brave, precise, determined—and fundamentally kind. She traded her gun away for medicine to save Vi’s life. She didn’t even hesitate. But now, all of that laser focus is being bent on revenge. Caitlyn has become increasingly single-minded, narrow-viewed, her world reduced to the target in her sniper’s scope. If you’re an obstacle, she’ll simply shoot right through you. She promised Vi she wouldn’t change, and then she hit Vi and abandoned her the moment Vi got in the way. Season 1 Caitlyn would never do that.

Vi struggles with change. She never seems to quite—grasp it. Doesn’t understand how the Undercity has changed while she was locked up, stagnant, an insect trapped in amber. She loves people with a sort of nostalgic glow. What the show forces Vi to reckon with is how far she’s willing to love someone before they’ve changed too much. She thinks it’s over with Jinx. She says she doesn’t consider Jinx as her sister anymore. But they are, they’re still sisters, of course they are. Jinx knows this. Jinx loves her sister, even now. Which means there might still be something in her for Vi to love too. But with Caitlyn, is there anything left of the kind girl who gave Vi her freedom and treated her with compassion? Can Vi still love the dictator literally waging war against her people? Should she? (Could she even stop loving Caitlyn if she wanted to?)

Jayce’s arc is just beginning in season 2, so I’m not sure which direction he’s heading in. But the parallels are already showing up. Is Viktor still in there, or is he dead? (Did I kill him?) Is it just the Hexcore using his body now, a monster that must be stopped? (Did I create him?) Jayce, too, might soon be forced to decide if he can still love someone who’s changed past the point of recognition. Or whether he should.

All this is to say that I hope we get more Vi and Jayce interactions this season. And that it’s definitely not a coincidence that we got two divorces back to back.

[brattyspence]

virginia is for lovers | s.reid

summary: model!reader accidentally exposes their relationship through a soft launch instagram post

tags: model!reader x spencer, penelope included <3, smau

a/n: this is kinda short n pointless but i wanted a reason to write reader tweeting abt spencer and its been in my drafts for weeks so

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

Spencer had worked hard to keep you a secret. 

Not because he wasn’t thrilled to be in your life, because he really, really was. Historically, things had a tendency to go south as soon as word got out, especially when it came to his personal life. 

You had met in a bookstore. It was a short interaction; you were busy debating which translation of The Stranger was most appropriate to read. You must have been standing in the aisle of the bookstore a little too long, holding two copies side by side, when he had offered his two cents on the matter.

Typically, you weren’t one to entertain conversation in public. Nine times out of ten, you’d get one word in before the inevitable “Please can I take a picture? I love your blog so much!”, but this was different. You weren’t even sure he had even seen your face before he started talking to you. He wasn’t initially trying to hit on you, either. He was genuinely excited that someone was willing to listen to him ramble about the differences between the Ward and Guilbert translations, so when you responded in such a way that asked him to continue on, he was surprised. 

That day, you’d left the store with four more books than intended, and a single bookmark where he had written his phone number after you asked for it.  He had asked you for your name; a confirmation that he actually had no idea who you were. 

The rest was history. You saw him whenever possible, spent nights on the phone together, and flew across the country often just to see him. You loved having a relationship that didn’t need to be public, but you were also excited to share bits of it with the world.

It was late at night, and he was sitting at his desk in the bullpen, trying to finish the last of the paperwork he’d been assigned, when he heard commotion from Penelope’s office. He figured it was nothing new; probably just some news about the royal family or one of the real housewives again, but she’d thrown her door open in such a way that it garnered attention from everyone in the office.

“Spencer Reid,” She gripped her phone and rushed across the room with determination. “Do you have something you want to share with me?”

He looked up from his paperwork, furrowing his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you on my Instagram feed?” She placed her phone on his desk in front of him. 

“I’m not on instagram,” he replied. 

“Oh, but you are,” she said. “You are such a little liar. I can’t wait to tell Derek about this.”

She pushed his paperwork aside, plopping her phone down in front of him. It was a slideshow on instagram. A photo of the most recent bouquet he bought for you. A few from the museum you’d visited together, including several where his hands or shoes were visible, but nothing that really pointed to him. He could almost make the argument Penelope was mistaken, until the last photo, which included just enough of his apartment to confirm her questioning.

“You said you were seeing someone and I thought… someone from a chess tournament, or maybe… oh, I don't know. Literally anyone else? But you bagged a model?” 

“I-” he sighed. “How did you find her?”

“I didn’t find her, Spencer. I’ve followed her for years! I see her posts all the time. I can’t believe you.”

He scrolled down.

liked by @jjareau and others

@yourusername: virginia is for lovers :)                                              posted 12 hours ago

↪ @randomuser1: GIRL STOP TEASING WHO IS HE

↪ @randomuser3: i’ve been trying to figure it out since that tweet last month 😞

↪ @randomuser2: this is the sweetest soft launch i’ve ever seen <3

↪ 12k comments

He clicked onto your profile. 

@yourusername 

5.2M Followers

Followed by @jjareau, @emp.sergio and more

“You’ve got to see her Twitter, lover boy. She’s been gushing about you.”

“Oh, god,” he groans. So much for privacy. He lets her take the phone back, redirecting his attention to your Twitter page. She scrolls back to June before handing it over, letting him read in chronological order.

June 10

@yourusername: hot girl summer is officially over. just asked a man for HIS number.

June 25

@yourusername: is it offensive to men if you call them pretty? bc this man is rlly pretty 

@yourusername: update: apparently it is not :)

July 30:

@yourusername: good morning text + picture of a dog that he claims reminded him of me???? gonna ask for his hand in marriage

August 15

@yourusername: up til 2 bc hes explaining quantum mechanics to me 🧚🏻

@yourusername: embarrassed to say that form of dirty talk worked on me 

August 20

@yourusername: oh btw im a girlfriend now!

↪@yourfan1: look u long enough wtf girl

↪@yourusername: dw im locking him down 🫡

↪@yourfan2: thats OUR man now 💘

“Oh, wow.”

She takes the phone back. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Or me? Oh, this is great news. You’re bringing her to Rossi’s next, week, right?”

“I- Pen, I have no idea.” He laughs. He watches her type away on the device aggressively. “Are you texting everyone?”

“Yuh-huh. I need to call JJ, like… yesterday. And this isn't the end of this conversation!” She darted back into her office quickly, letting the door fall shut behind her.

He decided his remaining paperwork could wait. He packed his things up in a hurry, and decided to head out of the office, dialing your number on the way out. 

You picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey,” you started. “How was work? Are you heading out?”

“Yeah,” He started. He pushed through the glass doors of the office, staring towards the stairwell. “It was… busy. I just had a really interesting conversation with my coworker.”

“Mhm…” You had been lounging in your hotel room waiting for his call. “About..?”

“You, actually.” He replied. “She follows you on instagram. Apparently most of the office does. She showed me your post today.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Oh god, Spence. I’m sorry. I didn’t think… anyone would be able to tell who you were.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well… I work with some… characters. It’s totally fine, though.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, anxiously.

“Yeah. It was cute,” he replied, smiling to himself as he exited the building. “Tasteful.”

“That's what I wanted,” You reply.

“I thought Twitter was much more interesting, though.”

You froze, cringing. “Oh, god. Tell me you didn't read all of it.

He chuckles. “I skimmed it.”

You groan. 

[mondaymelon]

— pocky for the malipo ⭑.ᐟ

⟶ ( kinich x gn!reader )

— in which... hey, does this even count as a kiss...?

— speedran this filler post for pocky day + kinch's birthday.. its single day too LMAO the coincidences are simply uncanny ..

— starts out w mualani + kinich for context , fluff !! reader likes sweets,, ...tw... use of the word orbs..

“awwww, c’mon!! it’ll be fun, i promise…”

mualani jumps up and down vigorously, her expression slowly growing more and more dejected. “the traveler told me all about it- this otherworldly tradition, y’know, with those little sweet stick thingies, they even gave me a box! it’d be a reallll big shame to waste ‘em, and wouldn’t it be super cool to do?”

recently, mualani had grown very invested in the idea of some date called “pocky day.” these sorts of random hyperfixtations happened just about every other day, but this time the obsession lasted a linger longer than most, all because of some eavesdropping on the traveler, who offhandedly mentioned it in some conversation… anyway, now that the day itself had arrived, 11/11, she was more excited than ever.

“just onnncee..! pretty please, kinich… xilonen? sharky??” seeing that no one here was willing, except for sharky, who wagged his tail in approval, mualani let out a wail.

kinich stared at her with a tired gaze, sighing slowly. “well, i don’t see how-”

“oHHH my aRCHONS, kinich, how are you so BORING?? when i contracted with this stupid guy, YOU, i thought itd be a little more fun than rotting in a cave ALLL day long but APPARENTLY not!!? live a little uGHHGH, you emo little ‘oooohh look at me im so distant and mysterious’ shut UPPP…” ajaw popped out of nowhere, face red and pixelated hands waving back and forth angrily. “c’mooon, surely you aren’t stupid and blind enough to see that this is the literally PERFECt opportunity to smoochy smoochy kiss kiss that one person you've been OGLING with those  big ORBS of yours huh????”

kinich opened his mouth to say something, but then paused. mualani watched with bated breath, squeezing sharky in her hands in anticipation, eyes sparkling, gaze screaming “oh????”. 

“...well… i guess… hmph, even someone like ajaw makes a point sometimes, huh…?” kinich coughed into his fist sheepishly, a barely noticeable blush dusting his cheeks. “though, i’m not ‘ogling’ them at all, ajaw- it’s- well, i’m just observing them. for a commission.”

“suuuUUUReeee palllll, whatever you say- YOU REALLY DIDN’T THINK I’D SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, DID YOU??? BLABLABLA LALALA I’m RIGHT AHAHAHH THATS RIGHT IM RIGHT IM-”

kinich swatted ajaw out of the air, in the way one would with a buzzing fly. he flew through the air, disappearing into the horizon with a sparkle.

“...ahem. mualani, i’ll be heading out now.” kinich turned around calmly, as if he hadn’t just committed battery. "if i may, could i get one of those ‘pocky’ you were talking about? i’ll repay you.”

"hehe... no need for repayment, just tell me how it goes later!" mualani, smug and beaming, handed over one of the boxes.

..and so the time had come.

"kinich?" glancing up from your work, you flashed him a smile. "what's the matter?"

well, it wasn't as if the saurian hunter didn't see you out often- he did. this little nook you had in the scions of canopy was, as kinich put it, "on the convenient way back" for all of his missions, and so the male found most evenings swinging by (pun intended).

no, him coming wasn't the issue here. but kinich had been uncharacteristically.. avoidant of your gaze. for the past five minutes he had been there, arms crossed and leaning against the door frame like they do in those inazuman light novels, he'd been staring at a crack in the floorboards. and to make matters more concerning, he had something strange in his hands too: some sort of box that he kept flipping around with his fingers.

"hey. kini'. we're both not great at words, so just tell me and get.. well, whatever it is. you wanna say over with." at the mention of his nickname, kinich perked up, clearing his throat.

"ah, that..."

ohh, so there was the problem. the eerily quiet atmosphere was because ajaw wasn't present... pause, now you were even more worried. kinich had somehow gotten ajaw off his ass?? unthinkable????

"is it an emergency? fuck, are we all going to die? tell me this type of thing earlier, kini', i need to pack all my-"

"what? no- i, mualani.. she, no, there's this holiday, today. the traveler mentioned it, and i thought it'd be fun to try out.. you like sweets too, so. here." kinich unearthed some sort of... stick? was he really trying to feed you sticks? c'mon now, you weren't that stupid-

"i can read your gaze. it's not like that. here, it's chocolate, just- hah..." kinich sighed, eyebrows pinched together, wearing the expression of someone watching everything go wrong. "give it a taste?"

you eyed him skeptically, before taking the stick out of his hands and taking a bite.

"...sweet."

"yeah?"

"not a stick."

"...yes."

"...give me another."

"not so fast, we need to play the game first." kinich took one of the sticks and put it into his mouth, all of a sudden looking a lot more... guilty? you couldn't quite pinpoint the expression on his face, something you'd been doing with a 30% success rate (the highest any natlanian had ever achieved). "whoever gets the last bite wins."

"...i'm just supposed to. eat the other end?"

"what, you can't?" the slight teasing edge in his voice reminded you of ajaw (just the slightest) and you immediately became exponentially irritated.

"hah, who said that? bet."

"..."

oh, so now he chose not to break eye contact.

"...a-hey, we're getting a little close, aren't we.."

"...if you wanna break it off, lose."

"...fuck, you-"

you grabbed him by the cheek, pushing yourself forward and, admittedly, forcefully touching your lips against his. whether by the suddenness or whether by the fact that you two had, well, "kissed," the esteemed malipo kinich let out what sounded like a sputter and fell backward, hands barely catching him from falling to the ground. sitting himself down, he looked up at you with flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, and the edge of his lips smudged with chocolate.

"bleh. i win." sticking out your tongue, you motioned with your hands. "the whole box, it's mine now. winner takes all, or whatever they say in mondstadt."

kinich's gaze was observant, and under it you felt your face slowly begin to warm, realizing what you had just done.

"not so fast." kinich stood back up, recomposing himself in a matter of seconds.

"one more round. you caught me off guard."

(a/n) and then reader and kinich smoochy smooch smooch kiss kissed and single day was no longer single and happy birthday kinich really did become happy for kinich fuck when am i going to find me a partner <- has unrealistic expectations

context notes!! :

ajaw purposefully left kinich alone so that he could do his.. idk if you can call it flirting. pocky game w you. best wingman ajaw we all cheer (in reality he was tired of seeing kinich act all lovey dovey whenever you were around and found the tension suffocating so he decided to take matters into his own hands)

taglist (comment to be added / send in an ask on my sb): @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @umiloa, @intpessimistic, @keiiqq, @intpessimistic, @eutopiastar, @matcha-mintea

[local-demon-in-your-area]

Alright, this post has gotten super big and attracted tons of controversy and weird opinions so I thought I would clarify my position one last time :

No a militarized intervention, be it UN, US or whoever else, isn't a good idea. Bombs are never the answer, violence is never the answer, forcing an enormous change on people who's culture and ideas you don't understand is never the answer.

It seems the Malala Fund is seen as controversial for reasons that are unknown to me at the moment. In the meantime donating to Women for Afghan Women or to RAWA for those who can or want is still a good thing.

No Islam and religions aren't necessarily the problem. I am atheist myself, although raised in Christianity and while I absolutely believe that religion can be used and is used as a weapon in the world today, I do not believe that blaming them (instead of the people fostering an unsafe environment using them) is helpful.

Afghan Women don't necessarily want to live European/US women and that should not be the goal. The goal is for them to be safe, first and foremost, and have a choice as to what they want. The biggest thing that feminism can do is listen to Afghan Women. What do they need ? What can we provide ? They are the ones living in the situation, they know best than anybody.

Afghan Women being part of an Islamic culture doesn't mean that everything happening to them is normal or desired. The Taliban regime arrived by force and rules by force. Their society is not built on solid foundations, and without change it's certain that it won't last long. The problem is the damage they will do until it crumbles, and the damage that will be done while it's happening. The main victim of catastrophes are always the ones at the bottom of the social pyramid and in Afghanistan, it's Women. That's why we're fighting with them.

To clarify : I am against the very idea of a social pyramid. But because it exists, it has to be taken into account when deciding how to deal with things and how to provoke change.

I've had some wild comments about transidenty somehow so : to know if Afghan trans people are in danger, ask Afghan trans people. If you look at what witnesses and refugees are saying, all trans people are in danger. No they're not the danger. No transwomen are not just men trying to touch women by hiding as women. They face the same stigma as any other woman, and can be treated even worse when outed. How did you all decide they were the problem or that Afghan Women could just "become trans" to escape the oppressive regime like. How. Please. What the hell.

Stop being mean. I'm just a person who made a post on tumblr. This post may have gotten big but I still don't have the influence of other bloggers or people reblogging this post. I can't monitor everything. I can't even look at all the reblog because I don't have time. I can't answer everything. If you feel wronged because somebody said something in the reblogs, confront them, not me.

Once again I insist : I tried to educate myself but I can't guarantee I knew where to look and remembered it all correctly. Once again, I am just a random person on tumblr. If you think I should truly know something, you can go to my asks directly, otherwise there's a chance I won't see it. I don't know everything, be kind.

This post was made in the present tense but is in fact about the new law announced recently. Its details are unclear but it would essentially stop women from hearing each other pray (at least in public spaces) and other added things which many fear could lead to a total ban (if the details in the law don't immediately put it in action). As some have pointed out, women are currently still able to speak to each other in Afghanistan, but that may not last long.

I'm not american. Stop bringing the whole "Americans say this because they want to invade" argument, I'm not fucking American. I don't think of myself as a saviour. I don't think of myself as better. I just made a post about an info I saw that was bugging me, and needed to express just how wrong it felt somewhere. Don't assume I have or should have all the answers. I'm not even old enough to vote in my country. Keep that in mind when interacting.

This is one post out of hundreds people will see today. Yes it has an impact, but that doesn't mean it somehow makes me responsible for every single deranged idea somebody may have when seeing this. The average person will just like this post and move on with their lives, whether you think it's good or not. When interacting remember that I can't be expected to carry everything on one post's shoulder, nor that this post will somehow determine how people see Afghan Women for the next 30 years to come.

The amount of comments and people deciding that I was responsible for all of this because I made one fucking post about the subject is making me sick so. This is the last time I interact with my own post. I will stop responding or looking at reblogs and comments. I'll keep this post up because I do hope it reaches somebody who decides to donate or join local action to help but for the sake of my mental health (once again, just a random teenager online) I will not update it any longer.

And please remember that supporting local actions will always be more helpful than arguing with some strangers on the internet

This has been a psa or whatever

Women can't speak to each other in Afghanistan

Women can't speak to each other in Afghanistan

Women can't speak to each other Afghanistan

Women. Can't. Speak. To. Each. Other. In. Afghanistan.

No conversations

No hearing another woman's voice, no hearing her speak or pray

No way to share experiences no way to ask questions no way to organize

And if you ban education then they can't communicate by writing either

Women can't speak to each other in Afghanistan

Women can't communicate with other women in Afghanistan

People can't communicate with other people

That's how low we've gotten

Please don't forget about them.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

burnt toast, sunday / i wanna teach you how forever feels

katsuki bakugou x reader

the morning after a fight with katsuki. for the yail series ❄️

inspired by all of the girls you loved before

bakugou sat up, groaning a bit as his back ached. he looks around, hit with his surroundings. he slept on the couch, in the midst of the living room torn apart from arguing.

he knew you were probably still pissed at him. worst of all, he couldn't even fully recall why you two had been arguing the night before. he only remembered that it was really, really bad, and you had ended up locking him out of the bedroom. just the thought of not sleeping next to you hurt blonde’s chest.

he lets out a sigh as he got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. when he sits up, he sees you walk in.

he cringes slightly, seeing your puffy red eyes. you had been crying all night, probably.

“…hey.” you say, softly.

he grunts in response, his words unable to reach his throat.

its a sunday, a quiet morning to contrast a loud, abrasive saturday night. the two of you resolve to make coffee silently, only speaking when you need a spoon he’s standing next to or when he needs you to move so he can grab the sugar.

the silence felt incredibly awkward. the two of you just stood there, quietly making your own cups of coffee. the only noise in the room was the sound of the coffeemaker brewing. bakugou’s thoughts were a mess. he couldn’t believe the two of you had gotten in such a big fight, and he wasn't even entirely sure why it happened. but he knew he was probably at fault, he was the one with the explosive personality after all.

he curses at himself quietly when he realizes he grabbed two pieces of bread. he does that normally- one for you, and one for him. but right now, you’re pissed at each other. he’s a little worried that making two pieces of toast will be seen as a violent act of aggression.

he moves to grab plates, too absent minded to notice that the toast is now burning. you take it out for him. thats when he noticed you’re still wearing his shirt, even though you’re mad.

he picks up his phone and scrolls, trying to distract himself. thats when he remembers what the fight was about.

whoever it was that got ahold of katsuki bakugou’s dating history was really obsessed or really, really bored, maybe both. for whatever reason, his fans were now talking about all his previous partners, the good and the bad. and, because you’re dating a celebrity, they just have to question your worthiness to be dating the handsome and strong dynamight.

he feels his anger flare up as he doom-scrolls some more. it pisses him off, thinking about how people would so mindlessly say things. it pisses him off more that its getting to you. don’t you know that he loves you?

he has yet to do anything about it, to address his dating life and who he’s with now. truthfully, katsuki doesn’t feel like he should have to. his pr team already works overtime for his asshole-self, anyway.

he’s so distracted by his own thoughts, he fails to notice the way his elbow knocks over your mug, sending it shattering on the floor. maybe its the silence, but you honestly jump a little when it happens.

both you simply stand there at first, blinking. did he do that on purpose? no, he wouldn’t break his own mugs.

maybe he just wanted your attention.

nonetheless, you wave it off with a soft “its okay” before kneeling down and carefully cleaning up the shards. he’s silent as he gets down in front of you, helping you clean the mess he made.

he wants to tell you its okay, and that he’ll take care of it. he wants to tell you that he’s sorry and that he loves you. but this is the closest he’s physically been to you since the argument, and he wants to relish in it for a moment.

“are you still mad at me?”

he almost flinches when he hears your meek voice. why would he be mad at you?

“..what are you talking about, babe?” he sighs, his voice gruff.

he is mad, but not at you. mostly at himself for not seeing how the recent speculations about him had been bothering you.

“i don’t wanna repeat myself. i just… i don’t know. i know you don’t want me to care about what everyone else is saying, but, i do.” you admit, still on the floor in front of him. at this point, you’ve both forgotten about the coffee and the shards.

he can see how upset you are, and it makes his chest tighten. “yeah, well… i don’t want those shitty extras getting to you. even if what they’re saying is the farthest thing from the damn truth.”

he so desperately wants you to know that he loves you. that when he’s with you, he doesn’t think of all the times he woke up to someone else, feeling alone. he doesn’t think of late night arguments that left him feel empty. when he looks into your eyes, he’s reminded of everything he wants to protect.

but you don’t see that as clearly as he does. “i guess i just… wonder if you agree with them. you never say anything to address those rumours, about your exes. and its not your fault, i get you don’t want to get involved, but, still…”

bakugou’s heart twinges as you bring up those accusations. he hates that you wonder such things, that you wonder if he agrees with those rumours or not. he wants to reassure you that you are the one he loves, the only one he loves. but he knows you wouldn't believe him right now, especially since he's been acting so shitty towards you lately.

“damn it, dumbass, i just want you to know that i love you. not any of those other bitches.”

“i don’t like when you call them that, katsuki.” you correct him. he nods, though both of you should be used to his sailor tongue by now.

“they’re people you’ve loved before… and thats okay. sometimes i just wonder if you love me more. i know its stupid.” you sigh.

he finally gets the courage to hold your hand, his calluses gentle against your skin. “..i feel i shouldn’t have to say it, i guess. in my head, you’re the only damn person in the world who matters.”

“maybe i’m just insecure.” you chuckle, self deprecatingly. you’re both tired of the arguing, now. “you’re #1, you’re gorgeous… and i’m me.”

he looks at you like you’re a complete idiot for that.

he hated hearing you say those things about yourself like it was a bad thing, that you were just you.

“just you? you really think it’s a bad thing to be you, dumbass?”

he pulls you in tighter, wanting you to really hear what he says.

“you’re amazing, you're incredible. there’s no one else I want to be with. I don't want anyone else, just you. you’re way too good for me, [y/n], in more ways i can count.”

“…you really mean that?”

he scoffs, a beautiful smile on his face. “yeah, i mean it. i love you.”

you give him that smile he loves, the one that made him fall so deeply in love with you all those years ago. “thats all you had to say, kats.”

your past and his are parallel lines. he isn’t sure how he got so lucky. how, by some cosmic miracle, the starts aligned so he could intertwine with you. you’re all he needs.

he hugs you deep, burying his face into your neck. he loves how you smell, how smooth your skin is. theres bot much proof, but he sees enough in you. he feels enough when he holds you, his entire world in his arms.

“i’m sorry.” he says, quietly for only you to hear. “you’re everything to me. i’m in love with you.”

your heart swells, ignoring the burnt toast and spilled coffee. you’re wearing his shirt, and he’s keeping his word. thats enough to make you melt, hugging him back, arms thrown around his muscular back. “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have doubted you. i love you too.”

he pulls back slightly to kiss you, making sure you’re in front of him and that this is real. for once, he let’s go of all of his fears and his ghosts. you’re his best friend, the love of his life and every beautiful thing he loves. he hears it in the silence, on his way home, and in your voice.

“if anything, i think i’m grateful for everyone you’ve loved before.” you chuckle, face close to his. his blonde eyebrows knit in confusion. “what do you mean, babe?”

“because the people you love make who you are, even if you’ve only loved them for a moment.” you say, squeezing his hand. “all those dead-end streets led you to me.”

he pauses, strange look on his face when he realizes you’re right. all that fake love, the teenage heartbreak and pains he’s been through- it’s made him the man you love. all those breakups, those unsaid goodbyes, they’ve led him hear.

he huffs, and then smiles, pressing his forehead to yours.

“i wouldn’t change a damn thing, then.” he says. “it all led me to you, dumbass.”

you stroke his cheek affectionately, pressing a kiss to his temple. his eyes close when you do that, relaxing into your touch. everyone that he knew brought him hear. and now, he gets to know what forever feels like.

“and in the end, it doesn’t matter who loved you before.” you conclude. “cause i love you more.”

he almost laughs at how cliché it is, resigning to press kisses all over your face. “i love you more, i’m not arguing on that.” he says, holding you in his lap. he’s tough, and explosive, and “too good for all that clingy couple bullshit”. at least, thats what he lets the world believe.

you’re his, and he’s yours. he’s so god damn thankful for everyone you’ve loved before. ‘cause now he gets to love you 10x more.

[kimuzostar]

YOU CAN'T HIDE ii

⊱ bountyhunter!terry x black fem reader ⊰ ⊱ warnings: 18+, smut, degradation kink, pregnancy scare, mention of clinic visit, slight choking, stalking aspects, slight dom!terry and more i forgot ⊰ ⊱ probably the last part for this, i don't know... writing smut scares me because i'm bad at it ⊰ enjoy

A few weeks have passed of you being on the run. The media coverage of the robbery had died down; yet you were still on edge. 

Not about the robbery but about him.

“When I catch you again, I won’t be as nice.”

 His words replayed over and over in your head. You felt them deep in your stomach, just like his di-

No, no, no. You will not allow a man to be the proprietor of your downfall. 

After he left, you gathered your things and immediately headed for the nearest bus station. You brought a ticket to Arondale, another small town about four hours away. You needed to put distance between the two of you. 

As you boarded the bus, you had an eerie feeling of being watched. You turn and see a truck. His truck. 

Its lights cut on and it rapidly sped off in the opposite direction. 

You let out a sigh of relief. 

Now you could live in peace….. or so you thought. 

You were currently bent over the toilet of your dingy motel room. The entire contents of your stomach emptied out before you. 

For the last 5 or so days, you’ve been unable to hold down any food, certain smells cause you to gag, and you’ve been over emotional about every little thing. 

The tenant next door was not being of any help as he didn’t seem to know how to lower his volume. Constantly playing loud music and talking loudly. Every time you went to complain, he would get quiet and not answer his door. 

The one time you did see him, his back was turned to you as he got in his car. You wish you would’ve saw his face so you could flip it off. 

You were trying not to think the worst, brushing it off to a persistent stomach bug. But your period was late and that wasn’t making anything more comforting. 

“There’s no fucking way!”, you whisper to yourself. 

There’s no way you could possibly be pregnant by a man you don’t even know. A man whose face you’ve never even seen. You didn’t need any of this right now. 

Gathering yourself, you pull up to look in the mirror. Your curly hair wild, eyes shadowed with bags and your plump lips were chapped. You were a mess. 

You needed a pregnancy test. There was a small market across the street. You gathered your jacket and headed out. 

-

The market was stocked; having every essential one might need. 

You grabbed a buggy. You were going to get everything you needed so if you get the worst, you wouldn’t have to come out for a while. 

As you turn down one of the aisles, you bump into someone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” you say. 

Looking up, you see it’s your loud next door tenant. He’s wearing shades with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. A perfect set of 32s. 

“That’s no bother, just don’t do it again,” he replies. 

Already aggravated, you didn’t have the energy to play into his games. You continue along the aisle, paying him no more attention. 

Scanning the items, you finally find what you’re looking for; a clear blue pregnancy test. You grab it, biting your lower lip out of nervousness. 

Taking a step backwards, you run into what feels like a brick wall. A pair of arms surround you, the hands covering yours over the test. They lift them so the owner can take a closer look. 

“A pregnancy test. Who dis fa?”, the person says. 

You push back, turning to see who it is. 

It’s the tenant again. 

“Don’t fucking touch me and it’s none of your fucking business.”

He laughs, taking off his shades to get a better look at you. 

“I think it’s a lot of my business considering I could be a daddy.”  

Fuck, those eyes. 

It was him. The bounty hunter. 

Terry stood before you, smiling so big that his eyes disappeared. His hair was cut low, his skin bronzed by the sun. 

He was beautiful. 

You were frozen, unable to properly process what was going on. You wanted to run but your body wouldn’t move. You have many questions but your mouth wouldn’t move. 

“You look surprised. What’s wrong?”, he says jokingly. 

You finally get the push to speak. 

“You’re not the only person I’ve been with so you’re probably not the father”, you lie. 

Terry raises one of his eyebrows. “Is that so?”, he says. 

“Yes, so you can go away now”, you reply. 

“Nah, I’m curious about the results. Let's get back to your room”, he says walking towards the registers.

Your shoulders sunk. There was no way of this. 

-

Terry watched every step of you take your test; standing in the bathroom doorway like a bouncer. 

You avoided eye contact, feeling vulnerable about the current situation. 

“What does it say?”, he asks. 

“I don’t know, the instructions say there’s a 20 minute wait,” you reply. 

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling in thought. 

“What should we name it? I’m thinking Junior for a boy and Jasmi for a girl”, he says, smiling. 

You scoff. 

“You have lost your black ass mind if you think I’m having a baby with you. Plus, you don’t even know if this is your baby. The only thing I’m worried about is what clinic I need to go to”, you say. 

You peek at him through your lashes. He stood arms crossed, no longer smiling. You could cut the tension with a knife. 

“I’ve been watching you for weeks. There is no other man”, he says. 

“How did you find me? I left Springville weeks ago, it should’ve been impossible for you to find me here.”

Terry smiles, a laugh erupting deep from within his chest. 

“I never stopped following you, you’re just too fucking stupid to realize it. I followed your bus all the way here. I’ve been staying next door the whole time.”, he chuckles. 

You stood there dumbfounded. The clogs in your brain jammed and you were unable to produce a coherent thought. 

The loud music, the loud talking, the man entering the car. All him. 

“Are you actually insane? Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound? What’s not clicking?”, you say. 

Terry’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. 

“Why are you so mad? I never told you I was going to leave you alone. I said when I catch you, not if I catch. You’re my problem until I feel you’re sorted out,” he says. “You were warned yet you still can’t hide.”

He stepped towards you. You step back and he follows you until you hit the wall. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. You shiver at the contact. 

“Do I scare you?”, he asks, tracing a circle on your hip. 

Feigning dominance, you respond, “No, I’m not scared of you.”

You were definitely afraid of him. 

“I’m not afraid of a bubbling moron that goes around stalking people, unable to act like an adult,” you continue. 

You see Terry’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh. He pulls back, trailing the hand on your hip up to your neck. He wraps it around, squeezing slightly. You can feel your nipples harden through your shirt. 

”As long as you’re here, I won’t ever leave you alone. Deal with it”, he says. 

The statement causes you to look down at the floor. The thought of him bothering you forever was too much to bear. 

Terry lifts your chin so you can meet his eyes. You’re stuck, unable to look away; almost like you were being hypnotized. 

He kisses you, his mouth engulfing yours. His lips were so soft, citing a moan from you. His hands slide their way to your butt. He squeezes, pulling you flesh against his body. 

He picks you up, walking you over to the bed. He places you down, still not breaking the kiss. 

Your tongues fight for power, neither of you wanting to fall to the other. 

“Take these off”, he says tugging at your pants. 

You oblige, removing your shirt, pants and underwear. He does the same, allowing you to finally get a good look at his body. 

He was chiseled by the gods. His shoulders were large, coupled with a six pack and a deep v-line leading down to a hung dick. 

Terry hovers over you, settling his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. His fingers begin to rub up and down your pussy, softly grazing over your clit. 

He plunges two fingers in you. He licks from your collarbone to the shell of your ear. He gives it a kiss. 

“Still as tight as last time. There’s no way somebody else been in here,” he teases in your ear. 

“Would’ve been better than you anyways,” you reply. 

Terry freezes. He pulls his fingers out of you, lifting his head up to stare in your eyes. The stoic expression is back. 

Uh oh. 

He sits back, using your hips to flip you on your stomach. His hands find your hair and he pushes your face into the mattress. He straddles you, his other hand on your back.  You can feel his dick resting on your ass. 

“I’ve been being really nice. I don’t appreciate all this back talk,” he says. 

“If you stop talking so much shit then maybe we wouldn’t have that problem,” you reply. 

Terry pushes you further into the mattress, leaning in closer to your face. 

“Apologize and mayb-“, he starts. 

“Fuck you”, you spit, cutting him off. 

With no warning, he slams into you, taking a pause so you can adjust around him. 

His grip loosens from your hair, wrapping it around to cover your mouth. He lowers the rest of his body on you, trapping you between him and the mattress. 

“You don’t know how to shut up and be a good girl. Always got that bitchy attitude. That’s ok, I can fix that”, he says with a smile. 

He begins to thrust into you, hard. The position made it feel like he was poking your lungs. 

“Can’t nobody fuck this pussy like I can.”

He would pull up, only leaving the tip; rolling his hips, before thrusting back in. He kept moving over your spot; it felt like scratching an itch slowly.

“Talking all that big shit, say something now,” he urges, removing his hand. 

All you could respond with was a moan. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t form any words. He was fucking you dumb. 

You began to pant, feeling out of breath; that familiar knot growing in your stomach. 

Terry shifts, the change of angle reaching a new dept within you. 

“Cumming,” you say with an exasperated sigh. He continued to fuck you through it, making it feel like it was going on forever. 

“That’s what I thought”, he says. 

Terry flips over to his side, taking you with him. He grabs the back of your knee, pulling it up to your ear. He slides back into you, feeling even deeper than before. 

“Ah, fuck, that feels so fucking good”, you say. 

“You are mine, this pussy is mine, all MINE. You belong to me,” he growls, planting a kiss on your knee.  

You nodded. The words sounding like music to your ears. If this was the kind of dick you’d get everyday, you thought it wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, you know he wasn’t going to leave you alone anytime soon. Especially if you had a baby on the way. 

“You will be a slut for me, whether you like it or not  

He kept slamming into, never letting up. His free hand grabs your neck, pulling you closer to his face. You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin. 

“I’m gonna cum again”, you say. 

“Let it go, wet that dick up”, he replies. 

With that, you let go, screaming to the heavens. Terry follows closely behind. You feel him tense up as he paints your walls white. 

The two of you are a mess of sweat and deep breaths. Terry pulls out of you, looking down at the art he created. He gives a playful slap to your ass cheek.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”, he says.

You roll your eyes, getting a chuckle out of him. 

He gets up, heading to the bathroom to check on the test. 

“Oh look”, he says flashing it to you, “it’s negative”.

-

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @skvrpion @avoidthings @jimmybutlrr @persethegawd @nayaesworld @mymindisneverhere @theereina @thabiddie23 @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov @madamzola @literallegendicon @blyffe

[dilf-docs]

hii i just read ur eddie x young reader. And i LOVE ITTTT

Can u please do something similar but with young neighbor reader? Where the reader moves in an apartment beside eddie . They meet each one day and they hit it off? (nsfw )

(Ignore this if u don’t like the idea or u can change it)

Knockin' On Heaven's Door

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: you're what people call a ray of sunshine, probably the most likeable person in the planet. so why is this hot idiot next door so mean to you?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (you know this blog lives by its name), smut, sunshine!reader x grumpy! eddie (cause his ass just got dumped lol), enemies to lovers (one-sided), kinda mean!eddie, porn with little to no plot, power goes out so they get freaky in the dark, use of pet names, p. in v. (unprotected) (use protection guys pls!!! unlike this dumbasses fucking raw in the dark), oral (m. receiving), creampie, no venom :(

word count: 4,069 words (it's almost midnight again, me thinks I've forever messed up my sleep schedule cause ain't no way inspo only grows as per my eyebags lol)

side note: got my first request on tumblr!! (insert scarlett johanson dancing in marriage story gif). i love looove the neighbours trope so much (hey! if i had a hot older neighbour i would be doing the most to interact with them, bet); hope this lives up to ur expectations even if i tweaked a few things! also, this happens after eddie gets dumped by anne and moves out of the house lol so he's angry, moppy, horny and dry. what if i make this a series tho, would you like that? requests are open!

You're what people call a ray of sunshine. Ever since you managed to talk, all that comes out of you is happiness: the first sound to come out of your mouth was a laugh, your first word was smile, you have Love as your second name, you made friends on real time record, the profession you chose was that of a patissier and the first ink to grace your skin was a little heart tattoo.

Okay, maybe you've made it your whole personality to be likeable. So what? It's not your fault you light up every place you go, that people love you effortlesly and that life seems to smile your way.

It's the way the cookie crumbles, a fitting phrase for a pastry chef like you. Your friends often joked about it: you, a sweet person, baking little sweet goods to make other's lives sweeter.

And you loved it: your life, your job, your family, friends, cat and little apartment in San Francisco.

There was just one thing missing: because no matter how sweet you made other's peoples worlds by existing, no one was there to make it for you.

Alright, you had enough love and just loved love for the sake of it. Sometimes, a tidbit of romance through your screen or through the couple-d lives of your friends sufficed such desire, but its a lie to say you haven't dreamed of your own.

So when Johanna, the girl who lives across you, comes rushing with the newest gossip: "hot new neighbour moving next door!", there's something that tells you it might be time.

"You have to see him" she emphasizes, "a total eye candy"

That ignites the curiosity inside you, and after some weeks hearing through your walls grunts next door and a constant shuffle of things originally packed in boxes, you find yourself knocking on his door, tray of cookies in your hands.

Yes, you did bake them for him. After all, your chocolate chip cookies are a killer! People do lines to get them at your aunt's cafeteria, just to taste the warm soft dough, the chocolate melting on their mouths. You do this for every other new neighbour that comes around, it's just how you are! But the cookie choice is totally intentional though.

The door flinges open, and for the very first time in years, you find yourself at loss for words; speechless.

The stranger before you is a face you'll never forget. Handsome, of course, but there is something alluring in his beauty, one you can't exactly name, but comes along in a pair of thick lips, brown warm eyes and ink sprinkled across strong arms. Your heart hammers in your chest, and it takes all in you to not drop the tray in your chest right here and now.

"Hey!" you find your voice again. Clearing your throat, you proceed. "You're our new neighbour, right? I'm y/n, I live next door. Thought you'd like something sweet to eat after all that effort" you push the tray to the front, "I made this myself!"

He just stares back, blinking. You think he may be confused by your random act, but it's quite normal to do so with newbies. You love welcoming acts!

The awkward stiffness he radiates doesn't deter you away, though. "This are for you" you insist, "or just take one, if you don't want them all..."

"I hate chocolate" he finally says, with such a scowl on his face, you'd think you killed his entire family.

Oh! He hates chocolate? Who hates chocolate?!

You suddenly feel small and stupid. Without much else to say, you don't know how to proceed. You have your way with words, but no one has ever rejected you in the cold open before. It's left you baffled.

Then, a light bulb goes on in your head.

"Wait, I know you!" he quirks an eyebrow. "You're that reporter from TV, Eddie Brock" you gush, "I love helping others, but what you do is amazing... you're, like on other level, giving a voice to those who don't have one"

You admired him; he was someone who was brave and cared.

"Not anymore" and then the door slams in your face.

It takes you a while to process there, standing in the eerie silence of the empty hall, that Eddie Brock may be the very first person in the world who doesn't like you.

In the end, you'd given the batch of cookies to the homeless people living around your building. Even if it made you feel good, the pang in your chest didn't go away. You simply couldn't forget about the incident (because of pride and embarrasment in equal parts), plus, the fact that he lived next door and you couldn't go on about your day without hearing him pace around his apartment, made the task of forgetting about it difficult.

So in the following days you've avoided him, which has been pretty easy so far, since he barely leaves his apartment and you're busy with work and stuff.

It's friday night, and with the next week's groceries in hand, you take the elevator. The door's about to close when it opens again. You can't believe it: after successfuly evading him for five days, Eddie Brock is trapped with you inside the reduced space; you shouldn't been lazy and taken the stairs instead.

"'Night" he mutters, and you swear you've gone deaf because you barely hear so. You don't know what to do, so you just stand there, clutching your tote bag a little too hard. It could be an accident: he's too drunk out of his mind and doesn't know it's you.

It's not like he's been so nice, but after his asshole-ish move last time you saw each other, you don't expect basic courtesy towards you either.

You get a whiff of his scent, mixed with traces of whiskey. It's unfair how intoxicating it feels―how it's got you wanting more of what isn't yours.

God knows it's been long enough since you've wanted a man this bad.

It's not until the elevator dings again that you realize you've been holding your breath the entire time.

"Bye, pretty"

He casually exits out into your same floor never looking back, without realizing the effect his words have on you, hope slowly making its way through the creaks of your open heart.

Okay, maybe it's your fault for raising such high stakes based on two words and a silly little drunk interaction. Maybe you deserve it: because you've become a bit obsessed with the fact that Eddie hates you, but after yesterday, you've already traced a truce in your mind.

Even Johanna has told you to be cool about it. "It's time someone didn't like you" she joked, but you didn't find it funny. She insisted it's not important, but to you it is! How can he not like you? Maybe if he had a valid reason, you'd stop insisting, despite the let down. But he doesn't have one! And you've been nothing but kind! You think too much about it because it doesn't make any damn sense: you're loosing your mind and your friend just laughs.

The only reason you haven't talked to him again, is because work load has catched up to you.

But now you're here, out on the street, and the first person you see is him: on top of his bike, ready to go out.

"Nice!" you chirp. It may not be a top brand, but the black vehicle is as cool as its owner: the leather jacket, worn out jeans and beat up look is an insane combination that may or may not have you drooling.

"Huh?" he looks back at you, and you swear your cheeks reddened in embarrasment at his deadpan expresion.

"Nice bike, I mean" you nervously laugh, fiddling with a loose string of your sweater. "I love seeing them, but I don't think I'll ever ride one. I get scared too easily, you know?"

He puts his helmet on, "Alright"

Not even a thanks or an attempt of a small talk; what an idiot. Didn't he talk to you last time? Called you pretty? Why is he acting so curt right now?

"Hey, what is your pro-"

Your question doesn't get to be finished, because the engine roars and he's out of there, leaving you confused inside a cloud of smoke, the trail leaving with your last sparks of hope.

It's one of those nights where you just want to lay down and let sleep take control of your body. As soon as you get in your comfy pajamas and sink in the mattress, a noise erupts through the air. Startled, you raise on your feet, the slumber long gone.

Fuck. This hasn't been your week, has it?

The noise comes from outside, and you know who it is: the guy who lives in the corner, right next to the window; he who brings too many women home and plays his guitar a little too loud. It's late an he isn't getting the memo, clearly.

You swing your door open, ready to give him a piece of mind (and perhaps dump your accumulated stress from the week), until you realize you aren't the only one outside on the hall. It's Eddie, and he looks just as pissed as you do.

"Can't sleep?" he asks in a mocking tone, all while avoiding your eyes, rather focused on the common enemy's door.

"What do you think?" you reply, equaling his tone.

You both agree in silence, walking to his door. After some knocking, the guy opens his door: less thrilled when he sees Eddie and more complaint when he sees you.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll keep it down" and winks. The nerve of this guy. Even Eddie is frowning, surely annoyed at his lack of etiquette. "You can knock anytime, noise or not".

The door closes, but it's Brock who did it, not guitar guy. You're too tired to ask, and after picking what's left of your dignity around him, you decide it's best to walk back to your apartment.

"You know what's funny?" you stop your tracks, laughing, but it's devoid of amusement, "I lost my sleep".

He just stares back, and you're tired of the way conversations have to run by your side, for the very first time. You keep on walking, but as soon as your hand touches your doorknob, he speaks up:

"Goodnight" a small truce, you think. But you're not falling this time.

So you do the right think: walk inside without saying a word, and just like him, never looking back.

You wake up agitated in the middle of the night. It's raining: not just a normal rain but a huge storm. You look over at your alarm, noticing its characteristically red numbers are as pitch black as the sky above you. It's also thundering, and God, do you hate noises and thunder.

You jump again at another one cutting through the sky, and decide it's for the best to just stay awake until it's time to wake up. According to your phone, you have about three hours until morning rises. That's enough time to watch a movie or two. Even to pet your cat, which is laying next to your bed, clearly unbothered―unlike his owner.

But there's a problem: when you try to turn the switch, no lights go on. Your incredulous laugh ecos in the room.

Not only a storm, but also a fucking black out.

Scare slowly creeps up, and the shivers you feel are definitely not only because of the temperature drop.

So you grab your phone and head out, without clearly thinking and obviously in panic, because the first thing you do is knock on your neighbour's door.

Eddie's.

"Oh!" it takes a while for him to answer his door, but when he does, his phone's flashlight burns your eyes. "Sorry" he apologizes, and you don't know if it's for that or the fact he didn't answer; maybe for everything too, "didn't hear the knocking with all the thunder".

You say it's fine, that you're just checking to see if you're not the only one without light.

He flicks a nearby switch to no avail, "I'm afraid everyone in the whole building too"

Eddie probably notices your frightened state, the way you shiver like a lost puppy, and feels sorry.

"Wanna come inside?" he offers, hands inside his grey sweater's pockets.

For the very first time since you met him, he looks at you, but really looks at you: eyes roaming over your body, an all too familiar feeling painted across his brown orbs.

You realize a bit late what you're wearing: a teensy short and top, a set of pajamas that happens to be your most comfortable. Favorite too. Appropiate for this emergency meeting? Maybe not.

"You want me to?" you asked, confused. "I thought you hated me"

The only sound across the hall is the droplets of rain outside, some tapping in the window next to you and his apartment.

He looks rather embarrased, "I don't".

"Then you're just an idiot" you counter back, and he doesn't fight you about it.

"Fair" he says, "I can make some coffee?"

Maybe he's pretty convincing or you're a people pleaser, but as soon as he proposes, you're caving in just like that.

"Fine, but you better let me bring my cat"

Truth is, Muffin plays hard to get, but now he's resting in Eddie's lap―purring, as you two sip quietly on your coffee. Traitor.

"I used to have a cat" he says, cutting through the silence.

"Oh!" you leave your mug on his table, next to the candle; the only source of light in the room, "didn't think of you as a cat person".

"Tecnically, it belongs to my fiancée. Sorry, ex-fiancée" he makes a pause, "bet that cat doesn't miss me".

"I didn't know you had a, uh-" you're not sure how to proceed, so you trail off. Muffin jumps from Eddie's lap to the kitchen, lost in the dark.

"Yeah, I had a fiancée, cat, house, and job. Then I lost everything" he dry chuckles, humorlessly, "guess that's why I'm so bitter"

"I'm sorry" you say on the most sincere tone you can muster. Eddie wonders how can you be so kind and forgiving, especially after he's been nothing but an asshole to you.

"Doesn't mean I should've been a douchebag for no reason. You didn't deserve it" he apologizes, embarrased.

You stay in silence for some more time but then he says: "Not an excuse, but it's been real bad days"

The candlelight is so flickering, you don't know if he's seen your eyes, but by the way he gulps, you think he did.

"Maybe... I could offer a helping hand"

Why had you said that? Are you out of your mind? You barely know the guy, who, by the way, had been a jackass to you like, five minutes ago. But he's hot! And you love to help!

Jesus, talk about dignity and boundaries.

"Y-you would?" he stammers, but the way his hand travels to your lap reveals nothing but security.

He's not asking if you've gone insane or what exactly you mean by that: he's just asking if you would do it.

Would you help?

"Don't you know, Eddie?" your voice drops a sultry octave, "I love to help".

You lean close enough for him to smell the cinammon scent of your skin. Soon, he's leaning too, playing along even against his better judgment. It's too soon, but he's so drawn into you and can't resist it no more; ever since he met you.

His cock twitches in his pants, "help me, then"

It happens too fast, one second you're sipping on your coffee, looking like the most warm and softhearted person in the world and now you're on your knees, deep into his carpet, tugging at his belt with your teeth, a hunger he hasn't seen before in your eyes and filthy needy mouth.

Sex with Anne was sweet and normal. Vainilla. You smell like it too, but there's a difference: you have the appetite of a siren.

Using your hands, you remove the leather your teeth had beggin with, moving them to tug his ripped jeans down, pulling the zipper too in the process. You keep using your mouth, now to get rid of his boxers, where the outline is tight over his cock. Eddie finds himself so aroused to the point he feels hot, even if there's a storm outside and the candle barely provides warmth.

"You sure have a mouth" he mumbles in ecstasy, drunk in the sight of your glimmering lips, coated in saliva. He's dripping too: everywhere.

His cock bounces out, almost hitting you in the face.

"Look at you" you coo, "already dripping for me. What a pretty cock you've got, Mr. Brock"

Fuck, he's going to hell after this. But you can't corrupt what's already corrupted.

"Then you better show me what you mean"

You lick the tip, already leaking with precum. He tenses momentarily, and then stiffle a moan when you take his balls into your mouth, a similar sound coming from you. You suck lightly at them, running your tongue along the sensitive skin.

His hips buckle into your face, and you have to chuckle at the fact it's probably the first time he's ever has his dick sucked this good.

"Don't stop" he huffs.

You obey, tongue tracing along the underside of his cock until you're back at his tip. Eddie's still inside his drunk haze when he feels you taking all of him inside your mouth in one single movement.

"Fuck-!" he chokes out, the thunder outside shutting the vulgar sounds coming out of his plush lips. "Think you can take more?"

His large hand touches the back of your head and pushes it forward with force. His cock presses deeper into your throat, tip hitting the back of it. You feel yourself gag, but the wet spot that's starting to form in your panties says otherwise.

He twists your hair tightly, holding you in place as he fucks your throat with his cock. You feel tears, and Eddie thinks he's never had a prettier sight than you: glossy eyes, looking up to him as you take all his cock.

"I know you can, baby" he presses, "help me like you said you would, yeah?"

His fat cock is blocking your air supply, but the subtle motivation and praise in his eyes is enough to keep you going, thought your throat ends up bulging from the size of his cock, stretching out to accommodate his size.

You said you would help, right? And even if you always do it for the altruist reward, something about being used in such a vulgar and rough way has your chest and panties feeling warm.

Brock groans, body sweating and muscles tense. He yanks you up by your hair, chasing the orgasm like an animal, every movement feeling almost primal.

"Stay there" he feels it coming, "don't move".

You gurgle something, spit rushing down your chin and dripping onto your chest.

"It's almost over, sweetheart" his eyes roll back, head resting on the coach he'd barely used until now, where he's fucking you in the mouth, "I knew that filthy mouth of yours could take me"

You open your mouth wider, anticipating. Tension releases: and he's pounding out his orgasm in your throat, hips banging into your face. You swallow it all, even if you can't taste it since he was so deep in you. He pulls out, a string of spit connecting his tip with your lips.

"Thanks" his voice comes out rough, "you do know how to help those in need"

You wipe your chin with your hand, voice hoarse, "I suppose"

There's some silence afterwards, and now Eddie is cursing he doesn't know what else to say.

"Power is still out" he speaks, "we've got some hours left until the sun rises again"

"So what's your idea?" you giggle, "tell scary stories in the dark?"

You both laugh, but you stop and deadpan. "Please don't, I get scared very easily" and you pout those pretty lips of yours out. How can you be such an adorable but greedy girl? It's hard to believe you're the same person.

"Not that" he swallows thickly. Why is he doing this? Was a blowjob (a fantastic blowjob, by the way) by a young insatiable thing like you enough to make him go mad? "I want to help you too".

Before you protest, he's pulling you and sealing your lips with a hot kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, playing with it. He pulls out, biting your lower lip.

"Eddie" you whine, "b-bed, now"

He's supposed to be older and smarter, so why is his resolve melting away this quickly? Following your orders immediately, your back bouncing on the soft mattress of his bed. As soon as you lay, his lips trail kisses down your throat.

"God, you smell so good" you giggle, "bet this pussy will taste as sweet, huh?"

His cold fingertips grace the fabric of your tiny shorts and the touch gives you goosebumps, "look at you" he tugs your panties, nudging at your cunt. "So soaked... is this for me, baby?"

"Yes, Eddie" the way you say his name is enough to make even the strongest man fold, his dick jolting in response. "Take it"

Both of you remove your clothes in such a hurry, you hope you haven't damaged your favorite pair of pajamas.

"Let me see her" he demands, so you spread your legs, revealing your dripping pussy.

When you kiss again, the underlying carnal desire is mutual, saliva connecting in a silver thread as you both gasp for aire. Your hands wander across his chest, fingers playing with his tensing muscles.

"I promise to reward her, okay?" he lines his cock up with your entrance, the fat tip nudging against you, sticky with precum.

You're desperate with anticipation, practically begging, "please do".

He pushes inside you fully, balls slaping against your sticky clit hard. He’s so deep, pushing against your cervix and stretching you out with each thrust, making even the task of breathing painful and laborious.

Brock feels like he's ruined you, yet you look rather content. You've been used to giving; your kindness of a caretaker nature. You're used to giving your all and not receiving, so with every new thrust against you, his hips slamming, you know you'll never feel this pleasure again with anyone else, the delicious sense hitting you in waves that make you feel dizzy. So, in a way, he has ruined you.

"That desperate for me to fill you?" there's no answer, but the sound of rain and skin clapping against skin.

"Yes, give it to me” you sob, "Eddie, please!"

"Focus on taking it" he guides you. It may make him a pervert, but he isn't changing the sheets any time soon; they'll be covered in you and he'll smell them everytime he gets inside them. "I'm gonna cum"

You moan, lightly tugging at the strands of damp hazel hair. He chokes out a husky groan, heat pooling on his stomach.

Eddie's dick twitches inside you, cum filling your eager insides with the biggest load you’ve ever felt. Your pussy clenches, spasming, wrapping tighter around his length in a needy way, your high coming almost at the same time.

Both your breathes come out in ragged pants. He nuzzles against your neck, skins equally damped.

"Fuck"

As soon as those words leave his mouth, the power returns. You should go now, as this is the reason you stayed, but none of you make the move to leave.

"Stay?" he pleads, "It's still raining outside"

How can you say no to those brown puppy eyes? Does he think he can fuck you this good and then make you leave?

"Alright" you swear he smiles, and it's the prettiest smile you've seen in your life. Could you fall this easily in love? "But turn off the lights: I have work tomorrow and need some sleep"

"Whatever you say, baby" he nips at your lower lip, "you know I love to help"

[dukeofankh]

I mean, nothing I said was suggesting that nothing can or should be done. I have a couple things I can think of but people are already rightly pointing out that my experience, like all experiences, isnt universal. Calling out a shallow take isn't something I'm doing because I'm so so wise and I know how to fix everything.

I have heard the take that part of the fix for this will probably be a lot more white men with podcasts, and that is almost definitely *part* of the fix. It is legitimately difficult for young men to find content about random ass basic hobbies that isn't being served to them by low-key fascists. That needs to change. When talking with other progressive men, something that came up a lot was after school programs, especially ones that bring boys in more contact with their communities and expose them to different kinds of people in positive ways. Hate breeds in ignorance and isolation.

You already seem very anti-terf, which is great. That is also part of it. I don't honestly think that women are the cause of this problem but like, in terms of fixing this and convincing men that feminists are on their side, yeah, some small part of it is probably looking at the state of feminism currently and recognizing that it has devolved in many very public online spaces into reactionary gender essentialism and that radical feminism takes up a lot more air than anyone would like to pretend it does. "Sure I wholeheartedly reblogged something that claimed that any man who seems decent is just trying to let women's guards down to make it easier to assault them, something all men are trying to do to women at all times, but that's just venting. Ignore that broadside that me and my friends just unloaded on you and everyone who looks anything like you, if you think that your hurt feelings about that matter, that's on you for not recognizing that our pain justifies saying literally whatever we want" (to call up a random example) is certainly a standard that it is possible to enforce in some more isolated corners of the internet, but there has been a serious breakdown between the personal and the public, which is hell for messaging as a movement. This is no longer drinks with friends, this stuff gets broadcast worldwide to men who are trying to get a sense of what feminism is about. At some level, what is cathartic to say will have to give way to what is tactically wise to announce. The only men who will willingly share space with that sentiment if it is core to this movement are either convinced that they are personally exempt from examining their own privilege, which is its own problem, or men who agree wholeheartedly that all men are evil, them included, and are trying to atone. I've interacted plenty with both in male feminist spaces. It's not a winning team. I am aware how hard that will be. 4B type political lesbianism/lesbian separatism seems to be having a moment (at least as a meme) right now as people process their grief in this moment. That's understandable. But it's not wise.

Considering this is happening in the wake of the US election, and I'm saying this as a Canadian, it's also worth gently and precisely noting that even if the harm is the same, someone who voted for trump didn't necessarily do it because they despise women. If we're just looking at the raw numbers and saying "we're doomed", that's probably not helpful or, luckily, accurate. The project of changing the cultural narrative is huge and depressingly long. The rise of reactionary right wing populism when a society starts failing its young people economically isn't. That is a different, and much easier project. If you don't want people to vote for right wing populism, you need to give them left wing populism, and infiltrating the democratic party and pulling all the same tricks the right did but towards economic policy that will provide the next generation of men with the opportunity to own homes and pull their weight supporting families will do a hell of a lot more in a much shorter time than systematically changing each and every man's heart, especially considering a lot of the people who voted for trump weren't men. This project will outlast us, but MAGA doesn't have to.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[dark-dragon-8]

A Supernatural × Batman crossover where the Batfam are actual cryptids and the brothers are sent to hunt them, only to find out that these guys are pretty much immortal, god like beings whose only weaknesses are each other, the sun and some weird sentient manifestation of their home city that they seem to care about, and most of them already grew out of the second one, since, apparently, the sun only affects them when they're newborns/newly transformed/changed.

The whole reason they ended up in Gotham in the first place was because of some online rumors saying that there is a demon cult in the city, as well as Blüdhaven [it's true, partially, the Bat clan has had several cults and/or religions painting them as godly beings/saviours of Gotham throughout the years, still do (imagine the colonies from F'ing Demon Bats, only this time the cryptid part of them is actually real)] along with shrines for human sacrifices.

At first they thought the locals sold themselves to a Pagan God in exchange for their safety, that the shrines and "holy grounds" spread throughout the city were for blood and human sacrifices and the creatures were feeding on the souls of their followers or something.

Turns out, that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes there were bloody sacrifices at the shrines, but most of the time those were just grieving kids bringing their dead pets to silence's holy grounds for them to be healed, or taken care of, by the spirit and have their souls at peace. But, again, that was rare, and only occurred at the holy grounds themselves rather than the shrines people attended to daily.

Majority of those shrines were filled with books, art supplies, music boxes with ballerinas and, sometimes, you could even find a few trinkets and computer parts, as well as the occasional plates and plastic boxes filled with home cooked meals, sometimes they even put pots and kettles filled to the brim with savory goods and nice tea. Nobody ever touched the food, not even the poor and desperate, when asked why all the brothers received were looks of horror and hushed whispers about how "The bats don't like thieves" and "They'll stop coming by the shrine, maybe even destroy it if we do that"

Dean didn't like it, neither did Sam, they didn't like how the locals, people who barely even bat an eye when they see a dead body on their way to work, get so scared and terrified as soon as they hear of something that might displease the Bats. They tried asking around, trying to figure out what is it that makes them so scared of their dearly beloved deities, after all, they talk about them like such a wonder, like they're the best thing that ever happened to them. Hell, one of them is named Mercy and was revered for its compassion and understanding of those around them.

They only got their answer when investigating a place called Crime Alley. They locals were all the same, if not even more reserved than their city's counterparts, but there was one person, a young girl who couldn't be older than ten that said she'll be willing to answer their questions in return for some money and stories from their time as hunters. They were reluctant at first, but seeing as they haven't had much of an option, they agreed.

"So, Masey" Dean started

"Missy" she corrected

"Right, sorry, Missy, you said that you could tell us what's up regarding those demons"

"Deities" she said sternly, the man simply nodded "And yes, I can do that, but you'll have to do something for me first"

"And what would that be?"

"You said you were a hunter, right?" He nodded "And you also said you have some money. So I want you to give me two hundred dollars, cash, and a written story containing at least three of your adventures with your partner. You can't use big fonts, lie or omit any details from the story, it needs to be one hundred percent real and legible and needs to be at least fifty pages, understood?"

Dean was confused, confused and worried. Why would this child need a story about them hunting monsters? And why did she need it to be so long and accurate? Was she trying to sell them out to the Bats or something? Why was this so important?

A million questions flooded his head and looking at Sammy, he could tell the feeling was very much mutual.

"Um Missy" it was Sam talking to her this time "Why would you want a story of us hunting like that? We could tell you about our time together on the field, if you want, but why do you need that written so meticulously?"

The little girl shook her head before he even finished speaking "No, no, I need it written"

"How so?"

"For Passion, of course"

"Passion?"

"Yeah, Passion, the component watching over Crime Alley, it loves reading stories but only when they're worth it. It doesn't like when people give them stories only to please it or for it to give them undeserved attention. It needs to be good and interesting, a story about two hunters will definitely do that"

The two hunters met each other's eyes, both their expressions filled with worry, apprehension and suspicion.

"And why all the other rules? Why does have to be so long and accurate?"

The girl tilted her head, looking at them as though they've said something stupid "Because you're introducing yourself, maybe"

"I can't just tell you guys all there is to know about the Bat without at least one of the components acknowledging you guys and giving me permission to share that information with outsiders"

"And what makes you think it won't just kill us as soon as it realizes what we do for a living?" They might've been desperate, but that doesn't mean they're going to give an essay about their weaknesses and hunting methods to a freaky, probably homicidal spirit on a silver platter

"Because they like people like you, people who put their lives on the line in order to help those around them. Also" she leveled her gaze with Dean's, which was pretty impressive considering she barely reached his hip "Had it wanted you dead, you wouldn't have been able to take two steps inside Crime Alley without having a heart attack, or your head magically disappearing"

The two brothers tensed, the taller's eyes rapidly scanning their surroundings, hands fishing out a weird cellular device, probably an EMF reader or maybe a bottle of holy water, as the shorter failed to keep up his confident facade in front of the (probably) ten year old (because Dean isn't going to be spooked by a kid that hasn't even reached the double digits yet, he's 𝘯𝘰𝘵)

The little girl laughed, completely ignoring their - very justified!!! - panic "Relax, would ya? Passion doesn't kill people unless they feel like it's necessary"

They didn't seem to be very relaxed, she didn't care, she just told them to meet her again on the border of Crime Alley and its neighbor city in a week, before leaving.

Two hours later, Carrie Kelley was skipping into the main living room of Wayne Manor, where several of her siblings played video games and with their father reading the newspaper on the side, the perfect illusion of a normal, happy, completely human family.

She walked up to Bruce, sitting on the arm of his sofa as the last of her illusion magic slipped away

"Did you do it?"

"I offered them the deal, still not sure if they'll end up actually agreeing to it"

"Mn. You did well"

The young teen preened under the praise, thanking her father before going off to boast and scheme with the rest of her siblings, they were up planning contingencies and devising plans until Sundown.

[ivysprophecy]

slim pickins

warnings; bad date? mentions of sex, cursing underage drinking and yes i meant for it to be written poorly i was trying to keep the humor of the album in the writing

no pressure tags; @murdockcastleslut @kimoralov3 @arkofblake

word count; 1911

summary; youre tired of not finding a decent guy who will treat you right and lay you right. at least not one you've known since you were kids. however you just cant help yourself. besides its slim pickins out here you take what you can get.

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

i wanna make one thing clear, when i say there are no good guys left i do not wanna hear about you and your boyfriend of three years that can cook and loves your mom.

thats exactly what im talking about maddie!!! i dont give two fucks that he took you to barnes and noble and bought you every book you wanted.

they are all taken. its plain and simple.

which is why even with a full roster, im stuck taking fucking zander, yes with a z, to my friends' kegger.

i mean yea hes cute. hes tall, built but not that gross kind of muscly. but if were being real i shouldve known better when he was joking about being a male stripper when hes a ginger.

and i can tell kie is judging me, rightfully so. her side eye is lethal. when i introduced him to everyone she asked him about his greta van fleet tee and he said he didn't even know it was a band.

needless to say pope had to drag her away.

after that incident i decided it was best if we tried to talk away from the rest of the group. boy was i wrong.

"so what do you like to drink? ill go grab us something," i offer trying to start the conversation, also avoiding the usual problem with taking a drink from men.

"im good with whatever"

i like to think im not a violent person, but im about to be.

"does a beer sound okay?" i ask him grabbing a twisted tea for me from the cooler.

"sure thing." god why is he acting like such a bitch? i should ask him if he's on his period.

i hand him the can, our fingers brush and its my final clue for the night that i am definitely not going home with him. no spark at all. hes done just about everything else to piss me off.

he did the thing where he licks his lips exaggeratingly looking me up and down, making a point to make sure i saw.

he walks so slow for being 6'3.

and finally he tried to mansplain my career to me. i'd had just enough when he opens his mouth again

"ew, you like twisted tea? who likes sweet tea?" his face contorted in disgust, it was about to contort from my fist breaking his goddamn nose if he keeps talking to me like this.

"we literally live in the south dude." my face could not make it any clearer i am so done with this guy.

"still, sweet tea is disgusting. im not kissing anyone that drinks that nasty shit."

"who said i wanted to kiss your nasty fucking mou-" i was interrupted by the sound of a very familiar giggle behind me as his arm wrapped around my shoulder, the smell of his deodorant and sea salt that cover his skin start to put you at ease.

jj was always there when you needed him, sometimes even when you didnt but right now you couldn't be more grateful. "im glad you found those mama i got em just for you. remembered theyre your favorite. right?"

and you wanna know the best part? zander is shaking already pissed off that jj is at my side. territorial i guess.

"you mind?" he asks him nodding his head at me like im not even there.

jj cant help but laugh at him "yea bud i do mind. she's hanging out with me tonight. have fun with your ipa dick." and with that he steers us off to where the rest of the pogues are.

but not before i can look over my shoulder and give the ginger an innocent smile and a shrug as if i had no control over the situation, when really id pick jj over anyone else.

"you owe me a big fat kiss mama," jj whispers in my ear walking us over to where our friends are standing, drinks in their hands laughing and chatting up a storm.

"in your dreams honey."

"every night all night," he quips back before i shove him off me.

now before you give me shit, jj and i have had our fair share of fun, but unfortunately im starting to look for something more serious.

watching john b and sarah be disgusting together is getting to my head. popes got something going on with cleo and im starting to recognize the pattern. and before i know it everyone will be in love if i don't start making an effort in that department.

random casual hook ups aren't doing it anymore, especially considering they aren't even that good.

unless theyre with jj.

but hes not an option, theres too much drama. too much history. too much too much too much. im not what he needs and i know for a fact he doesn't want me in that sense.

is that a bit dramatic? probably.

i mean hes a great lay, he's hilarious, he's got that blue collar kind of muscle, and he genuinely cares about me.

so of course im not going to date him, why would i?

what do you mean make good decisions? id rather do things in the most difficult way possible!

"y/n youve gotta stop giving those guys a chance, im starting to feel bad for you."

"you try finding a decent guy in a ten mile radius." i glare at him, obviously not wanting to joke about this right now.

he sticks his hand out in front of me, "fine i will. let me see your phone."

curious to see what he will do i hand it too him unlocked, he swipes and taps for a few moments, smiling down at the phone before handing it back to you.

when you look back down at the screen all you see is your instagram open with his stupid fucking smiley face on the screen.

he took a picture of himself and posted to my story. written on the screen in bubble letters in my favorite colored heart 'my favorite guy <3'

"i think he's your best bet." that same smile facing back at me now, cockier than ever. so smug i wanna kiss it off his face

i cant help but roll my eyes. "jj im serious! at this rate im going to die alone. every decent guy is taken or unavailable. all i want is someone funny, kind, and attractive is that too much to ask for?"

"im right in front of you mama you dont gotta look far."

"jj we both know we're not the serious kind of relationship im talking about."

"you can think what you want too but ill be here waiting for that kiss you owe me."

"i think all that tequila youve been sipping has gone to your head maybank."

he stands in front of me, taking his signature red cap off his head and putting it on mine smiling down at me, "what do they say in those books you read? you wear the hat you ride the cowboy?"

"this no ten gallon hat and you are no cowboy."

we laugh at each other, its always been easier to do that then actually talk about our feelings. so i put his hat back on his head, backwards the way he i likes it.

"cmon y/n/n, have a few more drinks, relax and hang out and ill make you feel all better later yea? its what im best at, you know."

"its gonna take more than a few more teas to convince me jj"

"what about that thing you like that i do with my tongue, huh mama? doesnt that sound pretty good right now? i think it does."

"i give you one fucking compliment and it goes straight to your head."

"technically its about my head so that makes perfect sense," he hands me another can with that stupid signature smirk of his and his stupid sexy hat backwards. i hate to admit it's working on me.

just like it does every other time.

i squint my eyes at him taking the can, rolling the idea around in my head. "fuck it. its not like anyone else is offering," i take a big sip of my drink.

jj pumps his fist in the air like a victorious idiot giving a few woots and hollars before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder despite my wishes.

"jb!!" he shouts turning around to face him, "we're headed out!"

john b looks at the two of us shaking his head at how im kicking my feet to wiggle out of jjs oddly strong grip. "make sure you change the sheets when youre done!"

oh my god he did not just say that. "fuck both of you!"

jj just laughs carrying you back to the chateau like a kid who's excited to use a brand new birthday present.

"what happened to letting me have a few more drinks before we left??"

"youre just too irresistable mama, gotta have you now,' he gives my ass a light slap for good measure causing me to roll my eyes for the 600th time tonight.

"are you gonna put me down now?"

he pretends to look like hes thinking about it, "i guess. only so i can watch you walk away," he does as he says helping me get my feet on the ground.

"youre a pervert."

"no im flirtatious, and you love it, you know it makes you blush i see it. now go on and give me a lil walk yea?"

oh im gonna kill him...

oh wait! im gonna kill him!

"okay... fine. but no touching until we get home," i smile walking away exactly like he asked, but i know behind me he is a puddle of mud. standing still, about to start begging me to let him.

he finally catches up after a few seconds "mama please- cmon thats not fair. you look too good in those shorts you know i cant wait that long. just wanna feel you."

i cant help but giggle at his words, its honestly adorable how mopey he gets. like i just kicked his puppy or something.

"hands of jj i mean it... not until that door shuts behind us."

it didn't really matter that i can see the chateau or that ill be there in literally a minute.

its actually painful for jj to not be able to touch me as he pleases.

i turn around to face him with a cheeky smile. "you want me maybank?"

and of course he nods so hard it looks like his head is going to fall right off.

"come and get me," running towards the house, i can see the moment when his reflexes kick in, his boots thudding against the ground as he gains on me.

just before i can make it to the poarch jj wraps his arms around me, lifting me a few inches off the ground and spinning me around in a fit of laughter.

"okay! okay okay okay you win- you got me."

"oh ive got you mama, and im havin you for the rest of the fucking night," he presses a kiss to my neck hauling me inside, the screen door slamming shut after us.

am i gonna regret this tomorrow? most likely.

but what can i say? its slim pickins in this part of town.

[pookietv]

encore! | arthur hill

literally got this ask like a couple hours but i had ideas for it so figured the dedication to the grind was worth it :)

been so long since i've written a smau, so i hope you enjoy! i may be slightly rusty

liked by yourinstagram, arthurtv and 7,389 others

arthurnfhill: the kill hill tour has started better than i could have ever asked for :)

georgeclarkeey: who is that sexy man on stage??

↳ arthurnfhill: can't wait for you to be my sexy groupie at the london show

username3: KILL HILL IS GONNA BE SO GOOD!!!!

username4: can't wait for manchester omg

liked by shannonlangdon, arthurnfhill and 6,093 more

yourusername: soooo what if i said i was impulsively dropping a song tomorrow night because i need to get the song off my chest and i can't wait until the supposed release date of next month ...?

it's called francis forever, and it's brought me a lot of peace to throw myself into completely making this song over the past few weeks

ANYWAYS here's a presave link if you care about that sort of thing,

hope you enjoy!

love, y/n.

jamesmarriott: we're getting SPOILED with another y/n banger

↳ yourusername: how do you know banger you haven't even heard yet ??? hmmm???

↳ jamesmarriott: you only drop bangers and thats FACTUAL

taliamar: UGH you are my icon

↳ yourusername: thats funny cause you're mine ???

username5: my heart is BREAKING at the caption

username6: omg if this is a breakup song i will do something violent.

liked by chrismd, georgeclarkeey and 7383 others

arthurnfhill: i can't believe there is only four more shows of the kill hill tour - feels like i was waiting forever for the tour to come around and now its almost done just like that!

chrismd: london show night one and two rolling around real quick

↳ arthurnfhill: missed me in the flat?

↳ chrismd: all you did before you left was mope around so not much change

arthurtv: my goat

↳ arthurnfhill: can't wait to see the number one most popular arthur on famous birthdays in person again

username7: CAN'T WAIT FOR LONDON SHOWS

username8: manchester was AMAZING omg

liked by arthurnfhill, georgeclarkeey and 5739 others

yourusername: as requested - my one night only london show! it was amazing to see so many of you guys there, makes this whole music thing so much more surreal :,)

username9: girl are you just gonna ignore the fact that ARTHUR AND GEORGE WERE THERE ???

↳ username10: for REAL my delusional y/nthur ass is going into OVERDRIVE

arthurnfhill: was a great night, glad i got to catch the show :)

↳ username11: oh you guys are TWISTED dropping comments like this

↳ username12: literally still in love i am not hearing any different.

bambinobecky: can i be ur biggest fan?

↳ yourusername: anyday sexy ;)

username13: the fact she scheduled it just a couple days before his london dates so arthur could make it ..... coincidence ???

liked by arthurtv, yourusername and 6290 others

mummysboypod: Mum, did you miss me on tour?

The NEW episode of Mummy's Boy is now live - with Arthur and Lisa discussing Arthur's life on tour, from crazed fans to drunken nights!

Link in bio!

liked by yourusername, arthurtv and 6380 others

arthurnfhill: i still cannot believe kill hill is over!! i will miss seeing all of you lovely people and playing you my silly songs

arthurtv: what does slay mean and why do women keep shouting it at you?

↳ arthurnfhill: because i ATE arthur

↳ arthurtv: you ate me?

username14: TOUR WAS SO INCREDIBLE!!!

username15: y/n being in the crowd was NOT. a coincidence

username16: is y/nthur back????

username17: you seemed SO much happier towards end of tour

username18: DUBLIN MISSES YOU ALREADY !!!

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurnfhill and 9374 others

yourusername: in musical terms... you could call this an encore?

username19: IMAGINE REANNOUNCING Y/NTHUR IN THE MOST ICONIC WAY POSSIBLE.

georgeclarkeey: i think everyone clocked when you were love heart eyeing him the whole concert

↳ yourusername: well you also did that and no one has realised yet?

↳ georgeclarkeey: it's MY bed he comes back to sweetie

lisahull_hill: you both have the sweetest smiles

↳ yourusername: LISA I MISSED YOU SO MUCH

↳ arthurnfhill: yourusername i believe you said 'more than i missed you by a long shot' ??

[lolottes]

ok when you mentioned Vlad an idea came to me but not at all the same as yours:

Vlad cloned Danny again but this time the clone is screwed up in a new way: his body is functional, he clearly lives/ n It's not an empty envelope (like what will be given to Dan) but his personality.... is problematic. But Vlad doesn't care about that, no the problem for Vlad is that his new Danny can't seem to transform into a ghost form, even though they have access to these powers without much problem, he is stuck in human form.

Vlad tries to correct this. with scalpels and other unethical experiments but continues to call the clone by sweet name as well as Danny

thus the Danny clone assimilated that: Vlad behavior is normal behavior to have.

when the real Danny saves him by punching Vlad and giving poorly worded advice then letting him go explore the world like he did for Dani...

New Danny then integrates that it is normal to take revenge if he is harmed and that as Danny he must in some way save people... but his sense of normality is more than messed up and the absence of guidance he ended up being the killer killer who relaxes in Gotham, enjoying the latter's atmosphere and its ghostly nature so as not to have eaten.

ho and he apparently got the Fenton luck as a bonus which means he doesn't really hunt, he just waits for trouble by vibrating quietly in his corners

Lay Me to Rest- DCxDP Prompt

Warning: Blood and gore

There has been a series of murders across the country. Each death was varied and self-inflicted. At first, they all seemed like suicide but each had a strange range of symptoms before death.

Sudden paranoia, incoherent mumbling, screaming or yelling, going in and out of their homes sporadically, random fixations, and finally self-harm.

The victims were teachers, parents, businessmen, truckers, and even a crime novelist. All unrelated and in different states.

Each victim didn't seem to have a connection until an investigation discovered that each one had been an active serial killer. The body counts ranged from as little as 5 to as much as 23. The killer was named the Serial Serial Killer which wasn't creative but it was catchy. Some called them the Angel of Vengeance but most thought it was cringy and overdramatic. Many people didn't want them to be caught but others hotly debated letting a killer dispense justice when their crusade could easily turn into them killing people for innocuous things.

The police were still questioning whether this killer even existed. One thing was clear, there was a trail and it led straight to Gotham. A goldmine for them. Naturally, Batman had gotten a hold on the case and began an investigation.

The biggest question was how the killer found their victims and how they knew that they were killers.

The answer was obvious. They didn't need to figure it out. They just needed to wait. Why just in the effort to investigate when a serial killer tries to convince you to leave with them? So bars are the obvious place. But that's shaky at best since there is a period of torment that takes place that allows the victims to return home. The killer doesn't care if the victims could call the police, perhaps because they know their victim won't.

Bruce started to build a profile. He saw a pattern here. Each of the victims had a preference for their victims as well. They targeted young people, mainly boys. Odds are the Serial Serial Killer matched that description or age range. So bars weren't the hunting ground. So parks were more likely to go unnoticed and boys tended to hang out there longer after dark.

The killer was more than likely a victim himself so he may have a few scars but probably not noticeable enough that his would-be assailants would be turned off. There is no ignoring the predatory nature of the victims. Each killed children for gratification in some form. It's not that the boy is attractive but he probably has traits that the victims found attractive in children. So babyfaced, short, native, and polite.

There was much else Bruce could get. There was nothing concrete and he still didn't understand the method that was used. So far this was guesswork.

It wasn't until a few weeks later while he tracking another killer that he found his answer.

Dr.Kinder a Biologist by day and a killer who experiments on his victims at night had picked up a promising new lab rat a week ago. He had intended to slowly dissect the boy. He had gotten so used to the screams he stopped using anesthetics besides he wanted to see how the fear response caused the organs to shift.

To his surprise the boy didn't fight, in fact he seemed to jump to the table and say he didn't need restraints. Disturbing. But he was restrained anyways.

As the doctor cut him open the boy didn't react, only humming to himself as he watched the doctor.

"What are you hoping to find?" He asked. "I'm getting bored and this bearly hurts."

The boy annoyingly never stopped talking and never missed a chance to ruin the moment. There were never any screams or cries but incessant talking.

Dr.Kinder found the boy disturbing so he simply took an axe and chopped the boy into pieces. Not once did he make a sound. The doctor thought it was over but the next day the boy was back. He sat on the autopsy table kicking his feet in nothing but his bare skin.

"What the hell are you?" The doctor gasped in horror.

"I'm bored. Play with me again." The boy purred.

Bile crawled up his throat as the doctor restained this...thing again.

This time the boy spoke differently.

"You cut me up last time. Did you do that to the last boy. After you...you know." A sick grin spread across his cheeks.

The doctor cut open his neck this time and let him bleed out.

Everyday he came back and every day the doctor killed him until the time between his death got shorter and shorter. The days began to blur and he had no idea how long he had been doing this. But that thing kept talkimg to him.

Dr.Kinder stared down at his desk at the papers trying to think of anything but-

"I wonder what people would think about what you've done. You're a disgusting and depraved man doctor. Look at what you've done to me." The sing-song voice of that demon called out.

He could feel those blood-soaked arms wrapped around his neck.

He flinch as he pushed the thing away.

"Oh, are you going to beat me or stab me this time? Ooo, or are you going to put me through the woodchipper again?" The demon asked as the doctor wrapped his hands around his throat.

He just kept squeezing until the boy went limp. It never ends. The blood never goes away. It covered every surface of the room. Dripping, conjugating, and spreading into every corner. Whenever he turned his head he could see body parts spread across the room in the pools of blood he could they the faces of the others that he had killed. Each face wretched in agony.

"You hold on better than the others. I've been eaten, torched, and disemboweled before but after coming back a few times they usually end it after a few words. But every time they don't feel guilt. They just don't want to face consequences." The boy said. "Do you even remember my name? The one I told you when you picked me up on the side of the road or was I just another body to use and discard? I used the name of your first victim. I hoped you'd notice."

The doctor knew he couldn't kill the boy but he could end himself. He had tried it once but just like the kid he came back without a scratch.

"Not yet. This is your life now. Come on, let's taste death together. Again and again and again and again and-" he repeated over and over.

This was hell. This was his hell.

But it came to an end eventually. Dr.Kinder put an end to himself in a gruesome display.

Batman had only caught the tail end as he faced a young boy standing an a pool of blood.

****

"Yeah, that thing is like a worse version of a revenant. Doesn't really have a name yet to describe it. It's undead for sure. You kill it and it just comes back." Constantine said "Why did you bring it here?"

After a long bath and some new clothes, the kid looked normal as played on a phone given to him.

"Look, I didn't know what else to do." Bruce explained.

"You leave it alone!" Constantine said exasperated "Look they are harmless to anything they don't bear a grudge towards. Think of it as a force of nature." Constantine said.

"I just want to know how to stop him." Bruce said.

"Well you can't kill it but you can't bring him back entirely. You can just soothe it 'till it stops targeting its victims. It must have died pretty gruesomely to go to these lengths. You need to find where it died and lay it to rest. Properly." Constantine sighed knowing that appeasing this soul would be more than just difficult.

"Danny, come on. Let's go." Bruced said putting a hand on the boy's head as Danny stood up to leave.

"Okay. Bye!" Danny waved to Constantine.

[healdeals]

Sometimes I think about how much Mettaton (specifically in Undertale) and Spamton are foils to each other and it drives me perhaps a bit insane.

Like... Mettaton had the drive to go see the light of day on the surface, to be with humans and be a savior to monsterkind, and was willing to kill a kid to get there. He wanted to be more than a simple snail farmer and had Alphys there to help him build a new body. He, whether intended or not, abandoned family & friends to live out his dream.

Spamton is also more than willing to kill to get to see the light, he wants to be more than a darkner in a dark world, and abandons his friends to be [big] without them, relying only on the help of some strange benefactor until he also is abandoned.

They both can be self absorbed, their visages plastered around all the stuff they own (or owned). They can be inconsiderate of others. They have dreams of being big stars. There is no subtext with MTT figuring out his identity and his transitioning; its all plain to see. While it's more subtle for Spam, there are themes of self identity with him, too.

I think the biggest difference in their personalities is that Mettaton can be a lot more humble. Despite Burgerpants' treatment and taking Alphys for granted, a lot of the monsters in the MTT hotel do speak fondly of him, especially if he dies and you go back through the hotel afterward. He doesn't resist talking to Napstablook when they call in, even though he probably feels guilty for leaving them behind for whatever reason he did. He clearly still loves his cousin, and does appreciate his friendship with Alphys.

Meanwhile Spamton lies to himself about being better off without the Addisons. Deep down he doesn't mean it, but coming to terms with the reality of his feelings? Naw. He's probably had to use this tough guy persona to shield himself from criticism in his big shot days and now doesn't know how to take the mask off without it hurting. There's a lot of denial in his small body, not helped by the years of scraping by in back alleys after his fall.

Though, if the roles were reversed, would things have played out differently? Mettaton has the benefit of well-meaning people around him and luck. Its through shuffling around the trash zone that he met someone who could make his dream body come true, and who ALSO had ties to the king of the Underground. Spamton has... fairweather friends? We don't know for sure how close he was to the Addisons, or how much he thinks of his relationship with Swatch in his grander days, or how benevolent the person on the phone really was.

Yes, there was desperation to get to the surface for MTT, but he didn't have to deal with the mind-breaking information of how radically different and free the light world is when you live a deterministic existence. He didn't have to deal with seeing a soul as a blinding beacon within a kid's body. I doubt Metta wouldn't be overly obsessed with the light world, nor doubt Spamton wouldn't be content with his place in life, if they swapped shoes.

It's also so WILD that they don't know each other in the DR universe, but Mettaton had a profound impact on Spamton just by making his a little art file. He unknowingly is the one who gives this spam email a glimpse into world above, and possibly a piece of his own hopes and dreams as well. I wonder if later the DR Mettaton, too, will be affected in some way by Spamton.

[josies-not-suicidal-now]

the mouse called up to the diplodocus "Hey! You! Tall girl! Come get your head down on my level."

The head of the diplodocus looked down from its vantage near the top of the canopy, it spoke softly, so the words barely made it down to the mouse, "What?"

The mouse was so tired of tall people, she put her head in her hands, and slowly ran her hands over her head up to her ears, and straightened them out. With herself calmed and prepared she could be sure that she would really get this idiot's attention this time.

The mouse jumped about and waved her arms around, with great vigor and purpose. This did manage to catch the dinosaur's attention.

The diplodocus head began to descend ever so gracefully from the canopy, all 6 meters of its neck swayed, degree by degree, all the way down to the forest floor. Suddenly the mouse was making eye contact. The diplodocus was wearing lovingly applied, perfectly symmetrical, winged liquid eyeliner. The diplodocus spoke again, "You really called me tall girl, wow, most people don't notice."

The mouse had completely forgotten why she had wanted the diplodocus' attention in the first place, she said bluntly, "What that you're tall or that you're a girl?"

"That I'm a girl." There was a moment of awkward silence between them "So what did you want?"

The mouse scrambled to locate in her mind where that information was stored. All the little tiny mice inside her brain went completely haywire searching for it. She was making a bad first impression with another girl. She was doomed to forever be a lesbian in theory, but never in practice. With elation she mouthed the words before she even realized she had remembered them "I want to see what it looks like above the canopy."

The diplodocus scoffed, "And I'm just supposed to let anybody that asks ride on top of my head, now am I? Any old chud who isn't tall enough to see anything worth seeing is just entitled to my time? To be ferried around on my noggin where ever they please? Tinylander, do you even see me as a full person?"

"Oh I'm sorry," The mouse blurted, she hadn't anticipated stepping on any toes with the request. Perhaps she really hadn't seen this girl as anything outside of her height. She mulled over if she should just leave, but knew that she sincerely wanted to see over the canopy.

"I'm sorry I was presumptive," The mouse began "but, could I ask you to do me just this favor? I've lived in this forest my whole life, and I've never seen the stars, but I've heard so much about them. So as one girl to another, could you help me?"

The diplodocus could only empathize with the plight of the mouse, its frustration softened, "Alright then, hop on." As the mouse approached it warned, "But you better not piss or shit until you're back on the ground."

"Agreed." The mouse said, and she hopped on the diplodocus head, and it began its ascent, up and up and up to just below the canopy. The mouse could see through cracks in the leaves, the glow of the little white dots, the stars! She exclaimed!

"Hold on, we're not even there yet." The diplodocus chided, with a great disturbing heave the head shot through the leaves and stopped a few meters over the canopy, and the diplodocus comfortably placed its front legs against a tree.

The spots were everywhere, in every direction the mouse could look, it was breathtaking, awe inspiring, world shattering. In a single moment the mouse's entire world shifted, from a dark damp place with underbrush, to a world consisting at least partially out of light. "Wow" She said.

"Yeah." the diplodocus answered, "You tinylanders are really missing out."

"Heh, yeah." The mouse said, still transfixed. There was a truth to the moment, something that reached into the mouse and brought her heard into the forefront, something vulnerable and powerful all at once.

"So have you ever considered starting E?" The mouse asked, it felt like a risky thing to say, but it also felt like the truth.

The diplodocus could have read something impolite into the question, but it could feel the glowing of the stars too, even if it was more acclimated to it. "No, all the girls I want to be are tiny anyway, and it's not like E can do anything about my size."

"Yeah that makes sense" The mouse responded "But isn't that so sad? It makes me sad at least. I wish there was something we could do to make you feel more like yourself."

"It's fine." The diplodocus said, "I've come to terms with it. I am capable of living in the real world with it, I have no reason to worry myself about something that can't be changed." It paused for a moment, the stars were still tugging at one more thing, but the dinosaur felt cheesy saying it, "I will always take up a certain amount of space, and that's ok, I just need everyone else to be able to accomodate that, and so long as they can, it's ok." It chuckled "And y'know, if I was tiny I wouldn't be able to show cute mouse girls what the stars look like."

The mouse blushed, but given her position atop the diplodocus' head it went unnoticed.

When the girls had seen enough of the sky they descended together, back down to the forest floor, where they exchanged phone numbers. The next day they couldn't stop texting each other. That night they started sucking and fucking, and they lived happily ever after.

[tossawary]

I'm reviewing episode transcripts from "Merlin" to build up my worldbuilding document (character list, mostly) and, a little ways into S2, I'm kind of feeling like the show is actually quite mean to Arthur as a character sometimes? S1 E14: "To Kill the King" is one of those episodes where I forget how badly it pissed me off until I run into it again.

Like, don't get me wrong, Arthur can be a bully, entitled, hotheaded, and reckless, but he's also at this point risked his own life to save people multiple times. Both individuals whose lives were "worth less" than his own (getting the Mortaeus flower for a poisoned Merlin, smuggling Mordred out of the city, protecting Ealdor from bandits) and also Camelot as a whole (fighting the plague-causing monster in the sewers, fighting the mam-eating griffin, drinking poison to lift the unicorn curse).

Arthur is giving me vibes of being both bored and frustrated (and probably not able to name those feelings or exactly why he has them) because he wants so badly to do good things, but he's not really sure how to go about it because (no one ever tells him anything, he almost NEVER knows what's really going on to make informed choices, and) he's also stuck under the thumb of his tyrannical father, who spends most of their scenes together berating Arthur for being too merciful, for not being dutiful enough, and/or not finding sorcerers for execution fast enough. When Arthur tries to be fair-minded and compassionate, Uther often essentially tells him that he's going to be a weak king with that attitude.

Arthur's pathways to betterment are limited, his parent and role model and boss here is an AWFUL person, but he's trying!

So, it's quite frustrating to get to this one episode where characters like Gaius (extremely biased, admittedly, clearly not an objective individual) are saying things like: "Arthur's not ready. The responsibility would be too great. Brave though he may be, he lacks experience, he lacks judgement."

Like, I don't know, Arthur may be only 21 and kind of a dipshit, but I personally think he'd still do a better job than the guy who tried to kill a kid (Mordred) just for existing a few episodes ago? Maybe? Gwen's father, who wasn't even a sorcerer or knowingly working with one, is dead explicitly because of Uther's awful laws. Did everyone in this episode forget that Uther tried to BURN GWEN ALIVE AT THE STAKE not that long ago (Episode 3)?

ARTHUR: "[Morgana]'s right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen."

UTHER: "You saw it for yourself. She used enchantments."

ARTHUR: "Yes, maybe. But to save her dying father, that doesn't make [Gwen] guilty of creating a plague. One's the act of, of kindness, of love, the other of evil. I don't believe evil's in this girl's heart."

UTHER: "I have witnessed what witchcraft can do. I have suffered at its hand. I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl, she must die or the whole kingdom may perish."

ARTHUR: "I understand that."

UTHER: "One day you may become King. Then you will understand. Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom."

ARTHUR: "I know. Witchcraft is an evil, father. So is injustice. Yes, I am yet to be King, and I don't know what kind of king I will be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in. It would be where the punishment fits the crime."

UTHER: "I fear you're right. She's played with fire, and sadly she must die by fire."

When the adult druid (Cerdan) accompanying Mordred is killed (Episode 8), Arthur objects afterwards! On his own! While Arthur is sometimes an active participant in Uther's tyranny and otherwise complicit, he's been told all of his life that magic is inherently evil and corrupting, he was raised by the very man spreading this hateful philosophy, he should probably hate magic more than anyone after Uther, and yet he still disagrees with Uther's methods and judgments. Even though Uther is apparently VERY willing to lock both his son (Episode 4) and his ward (Episode 8) in the dungeons for disagreeing with him and disobeying him!

ARTHUR: The Druid was only in Camelot to collect supplies. He meant no harm. Is it necessary to execute him?

UTHER: Absolutely necessary. Those who use magic cannot be tolerated.

ARTHUR: The Druids are a peaceful people.

UTHER: Given the chance, they would return magic to the kingdom. They preach peace, but conspire against me. We cannot appear weak.

ARTHUR: Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.

UTHER: Our enemies will not see it that way. We have a responsibility to protect this kingdom. Executing the Druid will send out a clear message. Find the boy. Search every inch of the city.

Obviously, running a kingdom is complicated! Uther apparently won Camelot by conquest and is in conflict with many of the neighboring kings, including Odin and Cenred, and likely has more of the respect of the local nobility than young Arthur does. Uther's death would create some instability! (Agravaine de Bois hasn't been created yet, but let's assume there are many other potential vultures.)

But the show generally isn't pushing that angle. This isn't really about smooth transitions of power. Personally, concerning Arthur's "lack of judgment", I do find his ready conviction that it is his duty to die for Camelot's honor if necessary (he says as much to Merlin explicitly before fighting Valiant in Episode 2, then again before fighting the Black Knight in Episode 9) more than a little concerning, but that doesn't seem to be angle pushed here either.

The show has characters (Merlin, Gwen, Gaius) suggesting that offing the King, who regularly kills innocent people whether they have magic or not, who has forbidden use of the tool that might have saved innocent people from Nimueh's plague or the wraith of Tristan de Bois, would be wrong! It would be murder and murder is bad! It would make (in the words of a grieving Gwen) her "just as bad" as him.

Even though Merlin has at this point already killed Aulfric and Sophia (Episode 7), as well as Mary Collins (Episode 1) because they were trying to kill Arthur. And arguably got an assist with Valiant (Episode 2). And will kill many more as the show goes on. This conversation with Kilgharrah in S1 E14 is in many ways so, so funny:

KILGHARRAH: Well, young warlock, what is it you come to ask of me?

MERLIN: I need your help.

KILGHARRAH: Of course you do, but this time, will you heed my words?

MERLIN: The sorcerer Tauren is plotting to kill the King. He's made an ally of Morgana. I don't know what to do!

KILGHARRAH: Do… nothing.

MERLIN: What do you mean? If I do nothing, Uther will die.

KILGHARRAH: Don't you want Uther dead? It is Uther that persecutes you and your kind, Merlin. It is Uther that murders the innocent…

MERLIN: But surely that doesn't make it right to kill him.

KILGHARRAH: Only if Uther dies can magic return to the land. Only if Uther dies will you be free, Merlin. Uther's reign is at an end. Let Arthur's reign begin. Fulfil your destiny!

[The dragon flies off.]

MERLIN: Wait! Where does it say my destiny includes murder?

KILGHARRAH: Free this land from tyranny, Merlin! Free us all!

I feel for Kilgharrah here. He was VERY straightforward. I don't know how he could have been clearer about this.

I won't say that Merlin's character writing doesn't make ANY sense here (I do think the character writing in this show is NOT amazingly consistent), because... he IS being influenced by Gaius, who is, unfortunately, a bootlicker and also probably extremely traumatized by all of the death he's seen (big contributor of the bootlicking) (also, apparently Gaius only becomes a "freeman" at the end of Episode 6, so there's that). And Merlin is also being heavily influenced by Arthur, who loves his father, despite everything. For Arthur's sake, if no one else's, Merlin will go out of his way to save Uther. Sure! That tracks!

Merlin spends a lot of time in this show protecting a terrible status quo under some assumption that Camelot will... somehow suddenly become better under Arthur? Instead of perhaps eventually just trusting Arthur and talking to him after their years of knowing each other? There are several, in-world reasons for this and I don't think they're all unrealistic! It's tense! It's thrilling sometimes!

(Though I am ultimately a little annoyed that Merlin's many secrets never really come out and get dealt with by the characters, because that would have been fun drama and some resolution to all the tension, even if the story did still end in death.)

There's some tasty tragedy in this silly show, in many ways. Merlin is confused and conflicted and scared and without clear guidance in many ways. Kilgharrah is mysterious and not at all reassuring. Gaius is complacent and (very reasonably) incredibly secretive. Merlin doesn't get to see many of the moments where Arthur speaks up for magical people and tries to talk Uther down. Morgana and Arthur are both stuck here in a "The hands that cradled you are covered in an unimaginable amount of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?" nightmare scenario. (There's also a sexist element where male characters like Gaius and Merlin won't let Morgana know about her own powers "for her own good" in a gaslight-y way that's fascinating to me in how it creates a villain.)

But, also, the compelling tragic elements here don't make certain episodes any less frustrating to watch in their execution. (I don't think villains being frustrating to watch or read necessarily makes them effective villains, especially when what I really find annoying here is the heroes' reactions to the villain. Uther has killed SO MANY PEOPLE! FOR NO REASON!) Especially when a lot of the overall results of this show often feel more accidental than purposeful. I do understand why the writers keep Uther around! He's a formidable antagonist to have looming all over the place and the actor is fun.

But OOF, I felt that "Do... Nothing".

Merlin! MERLIN! LISTEN TO THE SCARY DRAGON! MERLIN, REMEMBER THAT TIME UTHER TRIED TO BURN GWEN ALIVE??? JUST BECAUSE GWEN IS TOO NICE TO GO AFTER UTHER WITH A KNIFE AND TAKE REVENGE, IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY MEAN KILLING HIM MAKES YOU "JUST AS BAD"!!! MERLIN!!! YOU HAVE ALREADY MURDERED MULTIPLE PEOPLE WHO KILLED WAY LESS PEOPLE THAN UTHER!!!

In Episode 4, Morgana says to Uther: "You can't chain [Arthur] up every time he disagrees with you." This implies to me that Uther has had Arthur thrown in the dungeons before. In Episode 3, Arthur says to Morgana: "Father will slam us both in chains if he knew I'd endangered you," and maybe he wasn't at all joking with that? Arthur is rattling the bars of his cell here, apparently fairly ready to be aimed wherever Merlin points him, bucking against being aimed at innocents by his tyrant of a father.

But nooo, Gaius says Arthur is "not ready yet" because...??? He seems less hotheaded than Uther to me, honestly. Are his tax policies not up to par yet? You can hire a guy for that. Suggesting that Arthur would be in any way worse than His Majesty "Anyone Who Talks To A Sorcerer Gets Executed Even If They Didn't Know They Were A Sorcerer" feels quite mean to Arthur, really. I think he'd do alright, in comparison, Gaius who lies to the King every single day, but I suppose you sometimes want to be a loyal friend to good ol' King "Made Merlin Drink Poison That One Time And Wouldn't Let Anyone Go Get The Cure". Good for you. Bad for everyone else.

Like, I know, I know this show is not very deep. I like that all of the characters are flawed and fumble a lot! I even kind of enjoy that it ultimately ends in death with so many loose emotional threads. It is a weekly burst of fantasy nonsense that is not especially concerned with consistency in worldbuilding or characters from episode to episode. But the executive discrepancies here are, like the ones in "Star Wars", weirdly fascinating with all of the holes and wobbly bits it creates.

This show: "Yes, our hero has once again saved the tyrannical king who kills innocents! Preventing the oblivious prince from assuming the throne and trying to do better as he so clearly wants to do! Good work, Merlin, taking the high road (which involved murdering the rightfully angry people trying to kill the tyrannical king) again!"

Me, every time: "...I am genuinely not sure how the show wants us to interpret this. What did they think they were doing with this? Was this always meant to be a tragedy from the first season? Because personally, I'm getting some kind of tragedy from this."

[sageadvice]

[ Dragon Age: The Veilguard Spoilers ]

Well…I reached the end.

And I mostly survived.

Varric 😭

I’m not going to complain about the bits that I took issue with. It’s 3:30 am and I’m too emotional for objectivity.

I did all that work to get the Solavellan ending…and then I gave it all up to punch the egg man in the face. And I don’t regret it for a second. (Chalk it up to my Rook being a girl’s girl, I say.)

One day, I’ll reload and do the whole “secret ending” thing but my gosh, keeping Varric’s…what, spirit? Tethered between Solas and Rook through BLOOD MAGIC?? Even Merrill would not approve of this. I knew he was manipulating Rook. I thought I understood betrayal. But that…that really cemented his place as the villain in this story for me. Even to the last, he believed himself a god.

I lost Harding. That…really got to me. I sort of knew it would happen; her or Davrin, the game didn’t make some big secret of it. And, to be honest, the whole game had a lot of easily-predictable plot revelations, and I think that was one of its major strengths. You could always point out the traitor during the first conversation, and then feel that sense of “ha! I knew it.” If they’d tried too hard to subvert your expectations, it would have come across as poorly written.

I ended up being very glad that I got all the companions to Hero status, and all the factions to three stars, because that meant that I didn’t lose anyone else. It felt right, like I personally did put in those hours and make those careful choices to save those people, and they didn’t just get a free pass due to plot armor. It was all Rook.

And I did enjoy the end of Rook and Lucanis’ romance. To be honest, if that scene hadn’t been waiting for me after she got out of the veil prison, I would not have been able to keep playing. Was it enough? I think so, for Rook. I will be writing my own fanfiction embellishments though.

Scrolling back a bit, the moment in the game that first made me cry was Manfred waking up with magical powers and squealing with excitement. “Magic! Like you!” Instant waterworks. The depressing moments are never as meaningful to me as the shockingly touching ones, and Manfred embodied that sentiment wonderfully.

What else can I say? I loved it. 10/10 for me, especially after waiting 10 years. They honored Varric, and even if I’m still mad about it I guess it’s more than we got for any of our other past beloved NPCs. In my head, he’s hunting Hawke down in the Fade. One day, Cassandra will meet him there and they’ll be reborn as wisps who can dance around the Necropolis together. Emmrich will make sure they’re properly cared for.