#like the question if you would fuck an identical version yourself if you could

[anonygowose]

Am I the only person horrendously weirded out by selfcest???

I see SO much Artificer (RW) selfcest, shipping Arti before and after the incident with the pups and..... why....? Just. Eugh.

I do not understand the appeal of romanticizing a character with themself? It's just kinda gross imo? Tags will have more opinions :/

[mewtwoandme]

I was hoping this would all blow over, but since it's continuing to happen, now with people attacking other artists of the commewnity. I'm putting out my two fucking cents! Cause this whole art/character theft and pointing fingers, who stole what from who bullshit it driving me up the fucking wall!!

Long story short, it started with me and one other blog whose name I won't mention publicly. Despite the horrible light they tried to paint me in, I don't want anyone going to this person and ganging up on them. This person had some serious bitterness towards more "popular" artists and claimed that I've made characters similar to theirs and once used a pose they apparently used before (which was a very common pose, considering it was a reference from the game version of mega Y). Since then, they had desperately tried to conjure up evidence, narrowing down to the most miniscule detail how I've been stealing from them when I hadn't even known their blog existed until I was forcefully thrown into that unnecessary drama with the unhinged call-out posts they've made. With this being said, I'd like to point out that they never came to me or addressed this concern with me in the first place. They had every opportunity to privately DM me if they had suspected I was "stealing," but no, simply because they already made up their mind that I was a thief, that was a good enough reason to lack common fucking sense and decency, making what should have been a private issue public, going on to villainize and dehumanize me. And apparently, it hasn't stopped with me either, cause recently I've been seeing other artists in the community having to deal with this where people are being white knights on high horses, pointing fingers on how one artist's mewtwo looks "the same" if not "totally identical" as another artist's mewtwo. I refuse to believe it's a coincidence. But what makes me disgusted is that since TC's post, apparently it's had the opposite effect on some people and they're hopping on this blame bandwagon like it's some damn media trend!!!

This is NOT okay! Nothing about this kind of behavior is funny! It's upsetting to all of us. We dont need you causing problems where there isn't any, thinking you're doing us a favor! The majority of us are adults for gods sake! We are old enough where we don't need other people coming to us being tattle tails saying this person did this and that. That's what little children do! If you suspect any form of theft, I think I speak for ALL creators in this commewnity that we'd prefer you DM us privately saying something like "Hey, I think this person is copying you, might wanna look into it." And if possible, provide a link to the art in question, for which we would kindly thank you for making us aware and we'll handle it ourselves from there. Just a brief, yet SIMPLE interaction...that's all we ask!!! Don't even come at me with "Well, it's scary attempting to talk to an artist that's well known." Or dare I say ~pOpUlAr~ If you claim that taking the first step to send me a quick DM makes you nervous, yet you have no problem making public call outs in posts or asks, belittling and degrading what could actually be innocent artists doing nothing wrong, literally leaving yourself open to all kinds of comments and opinions from all kinds of people....I'm sorry but your anxiety isn't as bad as you say it is then, if being rude and ignorant in a public post/ask is easier for you. If you come to us, shaming someone else who 9/10 probably isn't doing anything wrong, thinking you'll be in our good graces for doing so, sorry, you're not going to be told, "Good job!" with a pat on the back and given a lollipop! You're just being an asshole.

Quick reality check for everyone who's made it this far before I end this train wreck of a rant:

People can have similar ideas that coincide with one another! There's only so much you can do when a whole community is focused around drawing the same character! We mainly draw mewtwos and mews, you're bound to find a plethora of similar colors, patterns, and designs because of it! Creativity only goes so far when trying to stay true to a character and not stray too far. It's not a crime to take inspiration from other artists' characters, we actually encourage this! It makes us feel good that you liked something we've done and you want to incorporate it into your own designs! It makes us happy that we inspired you! The line is crossed when someone does a literal copy/paste of a character down to the exact detail, and they call it their own original creation. That my friends is what stealing actually is!

[thewertsearch]

You've got to be shitting me. Does this wallet even have a size limit?

It's starting to feel like, when the Act ends, John could just pocket the entire session and leave. At the very least, the kids will no trouble bringing their houses to the reboot session.

Hell, they might even be able to bring their Lands.

[...] you wonder where all of her sweet weapons went.

Fuck! We needed those needles!

...wait, no, we don't. The bunny's weapons are from the future, so there's also a present version of the Quills floating around, just like Ahab's Crosshairs. Presumably we'll be using those Quills to cause the Scratch, and the Pen-Pal will get his hands on them later.

Actually, it could be really bad if John used the future version of the Quills. That would cause a true paradox, where the Pen-Pal obtains a set of Quills that he's already sent back in time. The needles would be trapped in an infinite loop, and they'd never have come from Echidna in the first place.

Speaking of the Pen-Pal, it seems like he’s got some more to say. Let’s see if he gives us any more clues as to his identity.

You see i adapted terry with some doodads you may deem practical. An infinitesimalator which i used to littlefy them down in the first place as well as a monstrositifier for when you would like to hugen them up and wield them yourself! [...] I borrowed this technology from my grandmother who had quite the way with manipulating space. Legend tells she was something of a witch with the stuff!

More of the same, really. He certainly seems convinced that Jade's his grandmother - but I still don't think that makes sense.

First of all, for someone who's supposedly Jade's grandson, he sure doesn't mention any of her friends. We’ve already talked about how strange it is that he doesn’t know John, and that was before we learned that God Tiers are semi-immortal.

Sure, maybe John died heroically - but he also speaks about future Jade in the past tense. Like every other character, Pen-Pal is presumably thirteen, so Jade can't have been that old. So now John didn't survive the session, and Jade did, but she apparently died young anyway?

Also, another question. Why did Pen-Pal need to build the bunny? After all, he should be surrounded by Players with endgame alchemy setups, unless you're telling me that none of the kids or the trolls are involved in his life.

What, did they all die? Was he kidnapped as a baby? Do all Alchemiters explode when you exit the Medium? The more I think about this guy, the more confused I get, and it's great.

[666writingcafe]

An Interview With Belphie

Part One of A New Series

Question One: If you were the last person on Earth, how would you spend your time?

After catching up on sleep, I'd probably just walk around and see what I could find.

Question Two: If there was one day you could repeatedly re-experience, which day would you choose?

The day that MC kissed me for the first time.

Question Three: Can you describe yourself in three words?

Tired, angsty emo.

Question Four: If you wake up tomorrow and forgot your name and/or identity, what would you do?

Go back to sleep, honestly.

Question Five: Who are you, really?

Ask Beel and MC.

Question Six: If you could live in a different time period or era in the human world, which one would you choose and why?

None, because they all suck. Unless I could take MC with me, which in that case, I'd go wherever they'd want to.

Question Seven: Which is better: having superficial knowledge about a wide range of things or thorough knowledge about a few things?

The latter, but make sure it's about things no one would expect you of knowing so that you have the element of surprise.

Question Eight: If you were able to download your memories into a searchable spreadsheet, would you do it?

There are some things that are best left buried deep in the recesses of the mind, so no.

Question Nine: Would you rather float alone in space or at sea?

Whichever ensures the quickest death.

Question Ten: Would you swap places with an alternate version of yourself from another timeline?

No, because chances are, that alternate version of me is more active and hence has more responsibilities, and I am a lazy individual.

Question Eleven: If you could communicate with animals, which one would you talk to first?

Spiders.

Question Twelve: If you had the power to grant a wish to someone, who would you choose and why?

Honestly, I'd choose Simeon. He makes me look mentally stable, and I just want him to be able to relax for a little bit.

Question Thirteen: If you were lost and had just enough battery on your D.D.D. to make a single phone call, who would you call?

MC. They're the most level-headed out of everyone.

Question Fourteen: Does your life need more love, romance, friendship, or intimacy?

Intimacy.

Question Fifteen: If you could do anything you desire with MC for a day, what would it entail?

A hotel room with a charmed door and soundproof walls.

Question Sixteen: If you were on a dating game, what question(s) would you ask?

Honestly, the first question in this interview.

Question Seventeen: Would you rather spend a fancy night on a mountain or camp on the seashore?

Seashore all the way. The view's better there.

Question Eighteen: Is your life a drama, tragedy, or comedy?

It's a fucking soap opera that's gone on for far too many seasons, and I don't mean that in a depressed way, but in the way that the drama in my life is becoming more and more absurd as I get older.

Question Nineteen: Would you date an alien if you thought they were hot?

Depends.

Question Twenty: If you were a vegetable, what would you be and how would you avoid getting eaten?

I'd be horseradish, because it's one of the few foods Beel will not eat, and thus I'd ensure my survival.

Question Twenty-One: Would you rather have looks, brains, or riches?

Brains. Looks fade, and money disappears.

Question Twenty-Two: If you had to wear your emotions on your clothing, how would your outfit look today?

Like I'd rather be in bed.

[multifandomfanficss]

Home Is Wherever You Are P5

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: Your Adrian has finally come to rescue you.

Series Warnings: mentions of child abuse, panic, meltdown, crying, divorce, mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia

A/N: Sorry for being so late. I had an incredibly busy weekend. This is also crossposted on my ao3 adriansglasses. I appreciate all your kind words so much! Hope you guys enjoy!

“Chase, we don’t even know if they’re alive.” Harcourt sighs.

“No, they have to be.” Adrian held his tension in his jaw, trying not to cry as he slammed your letter on the table.

It read:

‘Dear Adrian,

The day is September 9th, 1994. I hope you find this. I hope you find me.

Love,

(Y/N)’

“That is some pretty compelling evidence.” John egged him on.

“Thank you!” Adrian waved his arms in the air dramatically.

“It’s not safe.” Harcourt argued.

“I don’t care.” Adrian said. He didn’t have an ounce of doubt. He just wanted you back.

“Well I can’t let you go by yourself and there’s only three one way shots. What are you gonna do? Leave somebody there? Plus we don’t even know how this works! What if you never come back?” Harcourt asked.

“He’d be less of a pain in the ass if he wasn’t here.” John countered.

“Exactly!” Adrian agreed, missing John’s joke. “So if you let me go, I’ll stop talking!”

“As tempting as that offer is you’re not going.” Harcourt rolled her eyes, leaving the room. Adrian walked over to his desk, knocking over a plastic water bottle out of anger.

“Oh…fuck…sorry…” He sat down, slumping over the desk with his head in his hands. He heard whispering, but he didn’t care. The team often whispered about him. It wasn’t long before Leota approached Adrian, handing him a piece of paper. “What’s this?” He asked.

“It’s the address of the old ARGUS headquarters…ya know…just in case…” She said, mischievously.

“Didn’t they change locations in like 2002?” He asks, confused.

“Yup.” She smiled, waiting for him to understand.

“Why are you giving me a useless address? Do you need me to go pick up something from the old building for you?” He asked.

“I don’t need anything from there. I just figured you might…in case of an emergency…” He still didn’t get it, but in his defense Leota was never good at subtleties.

“What could I possibly-“

“She’s telling you to go dumbass!” Chris cut him off. Adrian’s eyes basically pop out of his head.

“I know if it was my wife I’d be going.” She smiled at him.

“Fuck. Thank you.” He engulfed her in a tight hug. Most of the team really weren’t big on hugs, but he knew Adebayo was.

“Go before Harcourt sees you.” She smiles.

Adrian takes the device from Leota and heads off.

September 12th, 1994

3 year old Adrian screamed in his bed. You sighed, taking Adult Adrian’s hand and slowly bringing him closer.

“Hey Ade, it’s okay, honey. Remember how I told you Vigilante was gonna look after you? This is him.” You smile.

“Wow! Way to go around sharing my secret identity, (Y/N)!” Adrian exclaims, not wearing his mask. You turn to him quickly and speak under your breath.

“First of all, he’s 3. He won’t remember. Even if he did, he’s literally you! It won’t matter! Also, don’t call me that. He doesn’t know my real name!” You whisper under your breath, anxiously.

“Well, how was I supposed-“ Adrian is cut off by his younger self.

“Mr. Vigiante?” He tries to get adult Adrian’s attention, still unable to pronounce the L.

“Uhhhh what’s up little m- man?” He asks, trying to avoid telling his younger self that he’s the older version. “See, I totally saved that one.” He whispers to you with a goofy grin. You missed him so badly.

Just as little Adrian is about to ask his older self tons of burning questions any 3 year old would have for a superhero, you watch Diane’s headlights cast into the room. When they hit your boyfriend’s face and you can see him a bit better you can feel your heart ache, starved of him, just needing to be with him.

“Okay Adrian, it’s time for Vigilante to go, but this is just gonna be our secret okay? If everybody finds out his secret identity, he won’t be able to go be a superhero and save people anymore. He needs our help keeping his secret. Can you do that?” You ask, hoping a toddler could understand the importance in this. You hate asking him to keep secrets, but the entire fabric of time and space depends on it. You shove Adult Adrian out of the bedroom door before his younger self can even finish saying yes. You pull him into your room and run to your closet to get a box hidden in the back corner. You bring him the box.

“This box is stuff your dad left when he moved out. There’s clothes in here. You need to ditch the suit before your mom sees.” You leave him there speechless trying to catch up with the speed and urgency. You’ve been running around with a toddler for the last couple weeks. You’ve gotten used to figuring out solutions fast. This is also probably an incredibly odd position for Adrian to be in; he’s in his old house, he’s holding his dad’s clothes, his younger self is in the next room, and his dead mom is about to walk through the door…alive. He hasn’t even had time to process Gut and Chris as middle schoolers down the hall. As you grab for the handle to your bedroom door, you spin around, running back to your boyfriend, giving him one last kiss before racing back out to his old bedroom to deal with his younger self.

“Adrian, I’ll make you a bet.” You tell him. He looks at you intrigued. Even at this young of an age he was competitive. You crawl into bed with him. “Whoever falls asleep first gets a dollar.”

“I’m so gonna win!” He giggles.

“You’re on, Mister!” You lay your head down, pretending to try to sleep. After five minutes he’s out like a light and you hear the bedroom door creaking open. You turn to see Diane’s frame illuminated by the light of the hallway. You tiptoe out of the room and close Adrian’s door.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to bother either of you. I just came to check him. You’re so good with him.” She smiles.

“Oh yeah…” You laugh quietly. “Bribing the kid just to get him to sleep was awesome.” You say, sarcastically.

“Kids are hard. We all have to do our best. Honestly that dollar trick was a pretty good idea. I’ll have to try it sometime.” She laughs. “You look worn out and I brought home a bottle of cheap wine from the restaurant. What do you say we go downstairs and crack it open?” She asks. Your mind drifts back to Adrian sitting on your bed decked out in his dad’s worn out old 80’s styles.

“Honestly…you’re right. I’m feeling really worn out, but if you save some for me I promise to drink with you tomorrow night.” You smile.

“Are you sure?” She asks.

“Yeah.” You smile. “Go watch tv and just unwind. You deserve it.” You bid her goodnight before trying to keep your excited legs from sprinting to your room.

Upon reaching your door you close it carefully, not wanting to slam it with all of this extra energy and wake up the boys.

“All set?” Adrian asks. You can’t hide your wide smile. You start to tear up at even just the sound of his voice.

“Nothing else is gonna keep me away from you right now.” You laugh, excited as a tear rolls down your cheek. “Not even time and space.”

You crawl into bed with him and he wipes the tear.

“You’re happy crying, right? Like that’s- that’s good crying I don’t have to stop, right?” He clarifies. You nod, cuddling into him, not trusting that if you open your mouth a sob won’t come out.

“Come here.” He sighs in relief pulling your body closer. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“It’s just so hard to believe this isn’t just another dream.” You whisper through a series of voice cracks.

“No, it’s real. I’m here and I’m not letting you go this time. I’m gonna bring you home.” He kisses your forehead.

“I don’t care. I’m already home. Home is wherever you are.” You kiss again.

You try to go to sleep, but you can’t stop telling each other about everything the other person missed. You never let your voices get above a whisper for fear that somebody will hear a strange man’s voice coming from your room.

“Ade, how did you know coming here was gonna work?” You ask.

“What do you mean?” He asks, moving hair out of your eyes, so he can better see your face.

“How did you know that using the device would get you here? How did you know you would find me and it wouldn’t just like malfunction and kill you or take you somewhere different?” You ask.

“I didn’t.” He says very matter of factly. You look at him in a mix of emotions. Briefly angry he would put himself at risk like that, then distraught thinking about losing him, then relieved he’s alive, and finally overwhelmed by how much you love him and the thought that he’d do all of this with no guarantee just to see you again. “I love you more than quite literally anything like in the entire existence and non existence and past existence and future existence all of creation ever.” You love when he rambles. You missed his rambles desperately.

“You’re my everything…not just the world, but the stars, the planets, the rocks, the beings, the water, the light, the sound… You’re everything to me Adrian.” You smile. This is the first time you’ve felt complete in the entire time that you’ve been here and tomorrow he’s going to take you home and you’re never going to have to be apart like this again. You won’t let it happen and neither will he. He starts giving you little kisses all over your face and neck and arms and hands, anywhere he can reach easily. You start giggling. “What are you doing?” You ask him.

“I have to give you a kiss for every hour we were apart.”

“But that’s like 300 hours.” You laugh.

“It’s been way longer than that.” He says before going back to kissing you. You go stiff underneath him.

“Adrian, how long has it been?” You ask, not sure you want to know the answer.

“Why? How long has it been for you?” He asks.

“It’s only been 12 days. I think you got your math wrong.” You say, hoping you’re right and that he’s still just as bad at math.

“No, I used a calculator. It was around 726 last time I checked.” His words knock the air out of your lungs. “(Y/N), you’ve been gone for like a month in our time.”

“You came after I’d been missing for a month? That- that means we- we can’t go back to a week or so after I left. We’d fuck up the whole timeline. I went missing for a month. I left you for a month- Oh my god do people think I’m dead?!” You try to control your panic, so you don’t wake up the whole house.

“Chris and John thought you might be alive, but wouldn’t explain it to me. I guess they just had a feeling and Leota didn’t know what to think. Nobody was ready to give up, but Harcourt tried to have a funeral for you to put your family at ease, but I wouldn’t let her. We got into a big fight about that.” You turn to face him, your eyes building with tears.

“Did you think I was dead?” You start to cry.

“Only for a little bit!” Adrian clarifies, but it doesn’t make you feel better. You try to hold in your sobs as your body shakes with emotion. Your friends, your family, and the love of your life, at one point all thought you were dead.

“Okay you’re doing your sad crying face and your panicked breathing now, but it’s okay. You’re safe and I’m safe and I’m here and tomorrow I’m gonna take you home and we are never getting separated like this again, okay?” He tries to reassure you, slowly rubbing your back. “I’ve got you. I’m here.” He reassures you, but he’s also reassuring himself.

“If I was gone for a month and you thought I was dead, how did you find me?” You cuddle impossibly closer to him.

“Well that’s just because I have the smartest partner in the entire world and they actually left me letters.” He smiles. “I’m talking about you.” He clarifies. “Just in case you thought I had a different partner which I definitely do not because even if you were dead I’m not sure if I’d ever get over you and-“ You cut him off with a kiss.

“It wasn’t that smart. I got the idea from an episode of Torchwood.” You smile.

“That’s okay. That wasn’t the reason. I just always think you’re the smartest partner in the world.” You look at him as a light blush starts to dust both of your cheeks.

“Well then we both have smart partners I guess.” You kiss him again.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

You both say it like you’re starved because neither of you deep down was entirely certain you’d get to say it again.

“I know we should get some sleep, but…”

“But what?” He asks. You sigh.

“Is it stupid I keep worrying myself that this is all just a dream and I’ll wake up?” You ask.

“That’s okay I’m worried I fucked up trying to get here and this is all some weird concussion hallucination or I’m in a coma or I’m like dead or something. That would like really suck actually.” You take his hand and put it on your pulse.

“Feel that? I’m real.” You place your own fingers on his pulse too. “And you’re alive.” You add smiling. “And as long as we’re together I think everything’s gonna be alright, right? Let’s get some sleep.”

You move, so you’re using his chest as a pillow. Being close is the only way either of you will sleep tonight.

[resident-problem]

I really wish that they'd made the Qun more obvious in Taash's story. It's never really specified, but I think it's the driving force behind a lot of what's happening/happened.

When Shathan brings up Aqun-Athlok, it feels like there was room for a dialogue about how even that is binary. I really wish that they could’ve engaged in a discussion there, so Taash could say something to Shathann about not fitting into a binary. They could even use Qunari ideas to talk about it! Like Taash loves to fight ("male" role), but they also have an extensive knowledge of dragons and study them ("female" role). But it doesn't seem like Taash was even aware of Aqun-Athlok before Shathann brought it up, so I'm immediately ringing alarm bells there.

(Break because this is really long, but that's the really short version of what I wanted to say, lol)

On that note, it seems like Shathann has either been blissfully unaware of Taash's struggle with their role/gender, or (and I think this is more likely) Shathan has been deliberately ignoring Taash in that regard. She's seen her child struggling with their identity and knows that it's specifically gender/role related because she's brought up the fact that her "daughter" seems to act more like a man. She's so comfortable with her feelings that Taash is somehow "wrong" that she's willing to bring it up to Rook, a complete fucking stranger!! Right in front of Taash, as if Taash is the one in the wrong here! She doesn't even seem to have brought up the concept of Aqun-Athlok before. When she's informed by Taash that they're non-binary, only then does she mention it. It's especially vile considering that Shathann is a scholar (ashkaari?) and would almost definitely know about it. Not that it's a solution, but it's at least an acknowledgement of Taash's feelings, instead of a complete disregard for them.

Which is also why I think that ending chosen for Shathann makes no goddamn sense. The last time we see Shathann is the dinner scene. Where, yet again, she's trying to put Taash in a tidy box. She's not willing to try and understand Taash's perspective outside of her own understanding of the Qun and how that informs her worldview. When she's (sort of, it's not outright) called on that by Taash (who's also having trouble expressing themselves at all because of how Shathann raised them) she just leaves, with no further attempt at dialogue. Time and time again, she refuses to listen to Taash and continually demeans them in front of Rook. You'd think this is ridiculous because Shathann is a scholar, and as a scholar, you're also supposed to have a healthy curiosity to learn? New? Things? Which is when the Qun again comes into play, but subtly. In a society that demands strict roles and absolute obedience, there is no room for anything other than just that. So obviously, Shathann expects that from Taash as well, leaving no room for any understanding of the world other than the Qun.

Knowing that, it also frames Taash and some of their behaviours (which I've seen being misinterpreted as being rude or disrespectful) in a whole new light. Shathann has continually forced her own beliefs onto Taash. Forcing them to see the world through Shathann's interpretation of the Qun, so when Taash leaves and sees a new world that is accepting and understanding, it would be very hard to go back to how things were with their mother. They've found themselves and been accepted for it, so why can't their mother also be like that, too?

Shathann is also a terrible teacher. From the way Taash talks about her, it seems like there wasn't much room for questions, which then led to Taash having some misinterpretations of their own. For example, the concept of Shokra Toh Ebra seems to have been poorly explained if Taash's interpretation was "you must struggle with yourself" rather than "you must struggle to find yourself." The scene where Taash quietly says that they misunderstood the Qun stuff again and makes it sound like it was their fault broke my goddamn heart man. Like that's not your fault!! It just isn't!! That's on your teacher who, again, probably would have known you misunderstood it and should've corrected you! But Shathann didn't because she expected obedience rather than understanding.

I think it would've been more narratively fulfilling to have that conversation between them. Have the SCHOLAR LEARN something from TAASH instead of her telling Taash what is right. Maybe they have that discussion earlier. Just when they've fixed things between them and they're both happy for a while, that's when the Dragon King comes in and destroys everything. That way, when Shathann makes that final statement, it means something. A final "I love you" rather than finishing an unfinished story at the last possible second and moving on.

So why, then, does Shathann just accept everything out of nowhere? We never see any growth from her whatsoever! She's just magically accepting of Taash at the last fucking second and then she dies. You could make an argument that it was a last second thing and that all she cared about was letting Taash know they were loved, but I don't like how that lets Shathann off the hook for all the crap she did. This is usually how this style of sacrifice is used. So she died, and all is forgiven? Using the heroic sacrifice here makes no sense because Taash's is a story of growth and not letting other people define them. So why have Shathann die here? It serves no purpose, it's not a driving force for something, and it's not fulfilling to Shathann's story, which is not only about keeping her child safe, it's also about her being a scholar and how she sees the world through the Qun. It takes away her agency as a character. We never get to see her growth beyond her dying declaration. We never get to see her learn.

It really feels like they had no idea what they were doing with Taash's story and just gave up last second because having Shathann die was easier than doing literally anything else. She has this big declaration that she accepts Taash, and there's nothing for it. It leaves both Taash and the narrative off balance because both they and the player never get to see that growth from Shathann.

[thriftdyke]

question: would you fuck your clone?

follow up questions:

if you fuck your clone, is it incest,

and also, is it gay?

my answers to these questions, should you ask-

is yes,

no,

and

obviously.

I’m not embarrassed to say it: I want to fuck my clone. I want to fuck my clone SO bad.

not because i think i’m hot shit, but because i believe if i fucked my clone i would know

exactly

what to do.

a luxury I am rarely afforded,

where every sexual situation feels like a card game whose instructions i tuned out, praying the rules would become evident

but suddenly there’s spoons involved, and slapping,

and shouting SPIT! -

imagine how much easier it would be

if all you had to do

was fuck yourself.

i’m sick of this uncanny valley of dating apps

full of mannequin-people who watch The Office

who are either too ernest or not ernest enough,

like is it really too much to ask for

to find someone with a

brain-rotted, irony-laden, three-layers-removed-from reality sense of humor

but an honest, open, unscarred heart of gold?

enter: my clone

enter: the version of me i like to think i am, but would swipe left on

because she’s SO out of my league.

enter: the version of myself i really am, but wouldn’t recognize if she slapped me through the mirror, because

you’re telling me when other people see me,

I look like that?

if i met me, i’m pretty sure i’d avoid me, but then i’d be in bed at night, like

will she text me back?

you see, everyone asks you if you would fuck your clone,

but the lesser asked question is if you would have compatible attachment styles with your clone.

to which I’d say,

honey, i wouldn’t even be able to look my clone in the eye.

not to mention the fact that both me and my clone are bottom-ass bitches, like,

no way is either of us is making the first move,

and if she tried

i would doubt her intentions,

immediately shrink away and tell her it could never work,

that my body is going to be disappointing, even for someone with the same one,

that i probably can’t

even make her come.

i’d tell her I can’t be what she needs

and i’m afraid if i loved her,

i’d never let her leave,

and i can’t do that to her. she deserves to be free.

she’s the person who’d know me better than anyone else,

but i never learned

how to love myself.

if my clone sat down in front of me with a rose picked

from the gardens of memory, held my hand

gently, tracing the scar she knows better

than the back of her own,

if she looked up at me,

blue eyes shining fractals of identity,

dark circles familiar as the

melody of every night i prayed for one person to understand me,

if she told me everything I wanted to hear

that she sees how I keep myself from falling apart,

that she knows all my songs and gets all my art,

i’d look away -

let go -

and break her heart.

[gay-otlc]

Hello I'm tired as shit but the Disk Horse is stressing me out so I am going to make a post about it. Cultural Christianity. Let's fucking go. Fair warning this is very long and rambly but whatever.

For context I am an atheist(?) Jew.

I can honestly see both sides of the argument. I definitely see how some people might abuse the term to invalidate atheists' struggles. On the other hand, it's a useful term to describe the way many (not all! not even a majority!) atheists still carry harmful beliefs from their Christian upbringing, which often results in bigotry towards non-Christian religions.

Also, I've seen a few too many posts criticizing the term that end up just criticizing Jews for me to be entirely comfortable hearing "'Culturally Christian' is a bad term and anyone who uses it is bad!"

I don't really think "culturally Christian" should be applied to an individual solely based on the fact that they're an atheist who wasn't raised with a different religion. Definitely not as a "gotcha" or like they have an irredeemable moral failing. But I don't think it's bigoted to tell an atheist "Hey, this comment you made was insensitive and likely influenced by your Christian upbringing, perhaps you should educate yourself more on this."

For example, someone in my class told me he thought religion was stupid because it teaches people to unquestioningly believe in something. As a Jew who went to Hebrew school and was allowed- sometimes even encouraged- to question my beliefs from at least as young as eight or nine (possibly before, I just can't remember), that was laughably false.

I told him that wasn't true, he just thought it was true because Christianity had been his only exposure to religion so far and he saw all other religions as basically identical to it.

I had every right to say that to him. He was an asshole for telling me my religion was stupid, especially considering this conversation started because I mentioned reading Maus.

However, if I told an atheist that no matter how much they educated themself, they would always be a bigoted, watered down version of a Christian? Than I would be the asshole.

I'm not sure cultural Christianity is really the best term, just because of how broad it is. There's no clear, agreed open definition*- some people use it to mean someone who actively believes Christian values minus the god part, some people use it to to mean people who secularly celebrate Christmas, some people use it to mean anyone who was raised Christian, regardless of whether they've unlearned those beliefs. *of course there's no clear agreed upon opinion, it's commonly used by jews and we can't agree on anything ever lmao

And "culture" can include so many things. I generally prefer to pinpoint what aspect of Christian culture I'm talking about rather than just saying "cultural Christianity."

For example, if I'm talking about atheists who were only ever really exposed to Christianity, I might say "atheists who think every religion is basically the same as Christianity," and talk about how this isn't much different from Christians who want other religions to assimilate and want us to be exactly like them or close enough that they can pretend we're exactly like them.

Or if I'm talking about, like, moral purity and sex negativity and whatever, I might say "atheists who otherwise still hold/haven't unlearned Christian beliefs"

Or if I'm talking about aggressive atheists who want everyone else to be atheist too, I might say they copied and pasted Christian proselytizing and just changed a few words. "Everyone must believe in my god (or lack thereof) to be a good person, and everyone who believes in a different god (or lack thereof) is an immoral sinner/bigot."

And I don't think any of those descriptions could be interpreted in good faith as an attack on atheism in general.

"Culturally Christian atheist" just doesn't give a whole lot of specific information on someone's beliefs, what beliefs are harmful, and how they're harmful. Two people might both fit someone's definition of culturally Christian, and be wildly different in how they view religion and the world in general.

My friend has Christian parents and went to church as a kid, has been an atheist for about as long as I've known him, and is really cool about other religions! He's interested in hearing me talk about Judaism and thinks our customs are neat, he just doesn't personally follow any religion. And I have another friend with Christian parents who went to church as a kid who makes "sky daddy" jokes and mocks the idea of prayer.

Both of these friends would qualify as culturally Christian, but it wouldn't make much sense to lump them together when describing how their beliefs affect minority religions.

Not every single religious person has to specify the exact type of culturally Christian atheist they're referring to every time they mention the topic. It functions to get the point across, and I don't see a problem with someone complaining to a friend saying "I hate it when I meet queer people and all the culturally Christian atheists hate me for being an observant Jew." But in a more serious discussion, I think addressing the specific issue is more helpful than just saying "cultural Christianity."

And if the specific issue is that you think someone is inherently bad for being atheist, or for being non-[insert your religion here], you're being a dick. Don't use "culturally Christian" if that's the only thing they've done wrong.

Also. I know this discourse has been around for a while but it seems to have really exploded today (technically yesterday in my timezone. January 27. Whatever) and it's kinda shitty that there are so many people attacking this term, often used by Jews to talk about antisemitism, on Holocaust Remembrance Day. The timing kinda pisses me off idk.

These are my thoughts. I'm open to hearing other people's thoughts but refrain from being an asshole.

[manta-rise]

The Birth of Venus (12th of august,2022, 3am) (very inspired by these two articles by rayne fisher-quann)

Ever since I was young, I think the only thing I truly wanted to be was an influencer. How chic would it be, to be a commodified package, an identity ready to be consumed, adored and stared at, nothing more than an intricate glass figure, blown through metal pipes and melted in sweltering furnaces, coming out shiny and new. Nothing like the piece of sea glass it will become, fogged up by the tumult of the sea, or the grains of sand that disperse with the ocean’s froth, Aphrodite’s spit and blood. 

Because truly, how easy life would be. You could become a brand, a certain iced chai tea latte you always drink, a book to read, a skirt to buy, a hot celebrity boyfriend to fuck. To be desirable, but not wanted. No, you want to be me. You want to consume my identity, my money, my fame. My brand deals and my trips into Paris. You want to retreat into this identifiable form of a women, a women born from Aphrodites foam, The Birth of Venus, hung up on a wall and gazed upon. I want to morph and bend my body, my bones, my blood into that shape too. My mother almost named me Lux, after Lux Lisbon, but decided it was too tragic. I morn the girl Lux would have been, A Streetcar named Desire, A Fallen Angel, A Virgin Suicide. She would have Killed Herself Quick and not inflicted herself to this planet. But what are all these movies, all this self identifiers other than another item description. Another marketable pitch to the 16 year old girl who wants nothing more but to be seen, to be loved, to never be looked at, look at me look at me look at me look-

-That’s the answer then. Not identity, not depression not hate not love not desire just lookatmeplease or i’ll die.

-Stop whining will you. Stop performing, please, no one’s here. 

-You’re here. Isn’t that enough?

-Its not me you’re doing this for though, is it.

-Then who is it for?

-Your future reader, don’t be stupid, you wrote this question after you knew the answer.

-if I keep it to myself, and I never show this to anyone ever, does it count then? No reader. Does it become me if I don’t show it to anyone? Or does it only become true, becomes me, if someone else know? If someone else sees? If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound.

-You don’t know the answer to that question and you know that. Because does it truly matter who you actually are, if other people never see that? Does it exist if no one will ever see it? Sometimes you think who you truly are is someone else perception of you, because that is the only thing that is visible to the other person. And I mean, it’s someone reality, isn’t it? It’s a version of you, that’s real out there. I think that’s why so many people will use books or movies or artists to describe themselves, I think its sort of a way to show what you are truly like inside, even if its a romanticised version. I might be wrong. Maybe the only person you can be to others is just a reflection of a reflection of yourself. Or what movie you just logged onto letterboxd. But we’re supposed to be more than that.

-But who are you without the media you consume. 

-The media you create then? 

-That’s just another version of all that you’ve consumed. I mean come on now, you’ve made like at least five pop culture references (at least) already in this thing

-idk, maybe I will publish this. Maybe it will help others feel more seen, their personal (true?) self’s understood. Or at least feel better.

-you’re lying. You want to be seen.

-maybe. Maybe not. I don’t have all the answers

-shut up and go to sleep you copied this concept off Rayne Fisher-Quinn

-at least she sees me bitch. Gn.

[vespertin-y]

SURPRISE BITCH THREE LIVEBLOGS IN ONE DAY!! this time it’s the first part of ch3′s daily life :3

-we missed the end of day nine! maki strangled kokichi, and then we cut to the next day where he takes everyone to her lab. i presume they talked maki down and then all went to bed.

-maki’s assassin cloak is sick i will not be taking questions

-”kokichi...you learned that from the motive video, right? monokuma said everyone’s ultimate talent at the beginning of their video. ryoma knew maki’s true identity because he had her motive video...and, because you saw that-” “hm? i knew the whole time. given my position, i’d obviously know before any of you, right?” “your “position”?” “oh...don’t worry about it. that was a lie.” alright, given he’s been claiming maki kills people since ch1 and this is like...the fourth time he’s said he’s already knew, i feel ok saying he’s lying about this being a lie. what’s most interesting to me, though, is the comment about his “position” - more material for my season 52 sacrifice kokichi pinboard 👀?

-”gonta, you should stand back. nothing good ever happens when you try to help.” K O K I C H I. look i understand that gonta’s version of help is mostly to fling himself onto the sacrificial altar, and also that being openly nice to anyone = being fucking murdered by the mastermind in kokichi’s head, but none of this changes my desire to WRING HIS FUCKING NECK-

-i wish monodam’s revolt against monokuma had been more of a Thing instead of a one-chapter joke. bald monokuma is funny tho.

-”but...i’m glad i’m an average citizen. if i ever had a reason to live as strong as kirumi’s...or if i ever lost everything important to me like ryoma did...if anything like that happened, i probably would’ve just cowered in a corner somewhere.” yes, yes you would.

-”kirumi...she, too, had her own exceptional beauty. a crime that was bold, yet calculated...a battle against the truth...brutally killing others for her beliefs...unfeelingly sacrificing the few for the many...and her attachment to life and determination to live! her attempt to escape was so very ugly! it was pathetic! pitiful! wretched! but it was beautiful! i had never before seen such beauty in a human being before!” SIR JUST SAY SHE’S PRETTY LIKE A NORMAL PERSON YOU ARE SCARING THE HOES. (and me!!)

-kiyo’s lab has six floors, which maybe doesn’t make sense with the layout of the rest of the school but is still absolutely sick. i’d be shaking with glee too!!

-[but...who brought all this stuff here? i suppose there’s no point thinking about it. nothing in this place makes sense.] you Could get mad about how this is an infuriating and out-of-character thing for a detective to think, and about how shuichi’s protagonist role prevents him from being the kind of proactive character we see him being in ch1, OR! or you could join me in my “the vr helmets they’re wearing literally force the v3′s characters brains to skim over things that don’t make sense, like buildings appearing out of nowhere and sentient robot bears that can teleport” theory and save yourself the trouble. (i will do whatever it takes to make this game make sense and you cannot stop me. it’s the only way i can stay sane).

-the gold katana is a cute easter egg, and another hint that the mastermind is a fangirl.

-”you don’t have a lot of confidence in yourself, do you, shuichi?” “...what?” “you lack self-esteem...and because of that, you doubt your strength. you seem more confident than before, but i can tell you still question yourself. ...well!? i’m right, aren’t i!? i can tell when my sparring partner is burdened by doubt!” “...you might be right.” “you know what works real good at lifting all that doubt!? neo-aikido!” for one glorious moment, my dream of tenko training shuichi was real, and it took the form of her flipping him onto his back so hard his vertebrae probably shattered <3

-kiiruma maintenance scene sure is a Thing That Exists! shuichi is traumatized and so am i.

-something very funny about all the reward items being slotted into/used on something to open new areas, except for the hammer, which shuichi uses to just go fuckin ham on a glass wall. (monodam even says later it was meant to be a puzzle!) it’s not damaging school property it’s ✨stress relief✨

-FTE time! they picked tsumugi! i love how genuinely angry she gets when shuichi tries to say she isn’t plain. you can take her dignity, her position, even her life...but you can never take her gimmick.

-i may not be the biggest maki fan, but watching her fucking CRUSH shuichi and kaito in training always makes me giggle. 10/10 scene. (also, shuichi does almost 200 pushups??? isn’t this only his second training session!?)

-and that’s the end of day ten! see you next time :]

[simpingwriter]

Jerome Valeska

x

Faith Wayne/Phoenix

'All you need

is a bit of Faith'

pt.3

___________________

Playing 20 Questions, what better way is there to bond with each other!

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 4.706 Words

___________________

"I don't know what the fuck you mean, Carrotboy." Was that really the best your stupid fucking brain came up with?! Bruce would be disappointed hearing your pathetic attempt at talking yourself out of this situation.

Almost as bad as the day Gordon deduced you as being the girl behind Phoenix and all you said was: "Wha? Me? Phoenix? Nah, old man." All while standing right next to Batman as casual as you unfortunately could be for an apparently all normal Gothamite. But today was really one of the days you could've used your brain to work for you and not against you.

Sometimes it felt like your brain was a mini version of Jason, throwing a set of Tim's DnD dice every morning just to decide whether or not it would be helpful or a menace/bother to you.

"Sure. And I am blonde." Yeah yeah, you get it, you really weren't good at lying sometimes, shut up buddy-boy. "Why do you care if I am or not?" You ask back instead, without explicitly confirming or denying his question either way, coughing a bit from the dust on the floor you disturbed by letting yourself fall onto your knees. All other cells beside yours and his were empty once more…the guard really decided to lock you two away. This felt like a less terrible Solidary.

You really shouldn't have thought too soon when you saw that Solidary Holding Sign last time…this is all dragging your time for this investigation out. This is going to take foreverrrrrrrr. You feel yourself go insane already, alone at the fact that you're here already for one and a half days and you hadn't made ANY progress.

"I just…it's weird. I have been here since a whole hellish month now and no one gave a fuck about me, except if they could steal my lunch or push my head into it." It's not like the food here is very missable, you bet. But it would explain why he looked a bit…thin…for his age and height. "Hungry then, I'm guessing?" "Fuckin' starving, girly."

You hum at that, placing your forehead against the rough gray bricks of the wall that was between you two. "If they at least wouldn't have locked me in here as well – after all its not like I can't stand up for myself –, I could have gotten us something. Doubt it's worth it though? Tastes like dog food?" The ginger on the other side chuckles, wincing out audibly due to some of his healing facial wounds though, "You betcha, but if it's the only thing you get here and you got no connections to the guards, it's gonna taste at least mediocre very soon."

Let's hope you're not here for too long to test out his assumptions on the food.

"So if you're not an inmate…who are you? A guard they snuck in? To hear us out? Are they perhaps suspecting a breach?" Guessing you as a guard wasn't too far off. You didn't know him, you didn't know if one of your siblings or even Bruce caught him and threw him in here, so you would definitely not reveal your identity as Phoenix to him. That would be so fucking stupid either damn way, you didn't reveal that to even your best friends. After all it was an incredibly important rule next to the "Do not kill your enemy." Rule. A rule you and Jason regularly acted like it doesn't exist. Oops.

Never reveal your identity to ANYONE without Bruce's explicit permission. Not just for the protection of the Family's secret and their safety but also for the safety of the people you're all close to, both those that knew you all as the masked heroes/vigilantes or as the normal citizens you're outside of Patrols or missions.

"Not a guard. Don't you think you would've seen me before then?" While you continued talking to him, your eyes scanned the surroundings a second time, hoping you missed something but you got the sense you would have to use some of the things you sneaked into the Asylum. The positives of being a female "Inmate" while only men were on shift for registration? They couldn't legally frisk you, even at Arkham. "I don't know. As said, been here for a month only now…you could've been on vacation beforehand." "Trust me, what I actually …my job doesn't even know what month-long vacations are. A weekend...maybe." You stand up from your dusty, dirty spot on the floor, brushing your now cement-dusted hands off on your already nasty looking prisoner uniform before slipping a small black plastic object from your cleavage. Big tits had their various perks on various occasions, like great hiding spots for small tools. Like your trusty, assorted lockpicks in the form similar to a pocket knife. Never going anywhere without it.

"...Are you still-" He stops himself when he hears a small click from the side of your cell, then the "quiet" sliding of a metal door. And when he turned his head, you were already outside his own cell, crouching over to work on the lock of his cell door. His eyes widened at how quiet your footwork seemed to be that he didn't even hear you walk out of yours and over to his cell. "How did…how are you not afr- " "Shhh, I watched their pattern yesterday, that of the guards. They periodically take 20 minute breaks while the cells are empty and are usually gone for another extra 15 because why the hell should they watch empty cells after all, right?"

He watches you pick the lock with no sweat caused, nodding a bit unsure at your explanation, not knowing any better himself as he crawls backwards slowly once you slid his cell door open as well, not shutting it fully behind you as well to get out again more quickly once you had to.

"Yeah no…you're definitely not a guard. Fucking hell…who are you!?" You squint at his defensive position, looking up at you from his small, almost curled up spot on the ground. His black eye was healing better than you expected for the fact that he seems to be missing the important minerals and vitamins to have his body heal his wounds at a normal rate. Depending on how long you're stuck here as well, you had to somehow get him something to eat…perhaps you could bribe a guard to get him actual food. Not the other…"food". Eh, disgusting.

"Fine, I'll tell ya. But first of all, get off the damn floor, you look at me like you think I would stomp your head in. Why should I beat you up after I stopped that SUV-build of a man from taking care of that job? Makes no sense at all." He must've realized so too, looking to the side in embarrassment before using the wall next to him to stand up and move over to the "bed" in the left corner of the room, next to the wall of your cell.

After one night on them already, your comfort-spoiled back cracked like a nightlight stick this morning, you were way too used to the comfy, perfect mattress of your bed at home…hmm, not too soft, not too hard…

You snap out of your daydream when you see the confused tilt of his head, waiting for your reveal and your explanation. First though, you had to make something sure. "How are the wounds?" He frowns a bit, yet shrugs, "Nothing I didn't have to deal with before…" Was he a street kid before he was taken here? You then would expect him to be just slightly better at defending himself, or at least at avoiding the grudge of others.

"Street kid?" "...Well, no. I was able to avoid that at least. I uh…nevermind." "Fine, then I'll keep my secret as well." You claim boldly, throwing yourself next to him onto the hard bed, nearly touching him at how close you came by accident.

Sitting this close, you were able to look at his bandaged face much better, his suddenly wide open eyes revealing what a beautiful shade of dark green they were. What a shame that he was probably absolutely nuts, the slight sign of usually probably very obvious freckles on his face would almost melt away your first opinion of him: Inmate in Arkham, hands off.

"W-what? No! I wanna know…" "How 'bout a game then? 20 Questions." "That...is not a game."

It was to you and your adoptive siblings, well, when you all were still younger at least. It was the best game next to 'I spy with my little eye' to pass the time with on Patrol and to you it was the early bonding time you often missed out on with them back then in your own opinion. It was a good trick to make them be a bit more open about themselves, maybe it worked with the Ginger too. "It is, you just don't have enough imagination i guess. 20 Questions, no lying. Deal?" Stretching your hand out towards the pale one in his lap, you smile sweetly at him. If all of Arkham already hates you two, why shouldn't you two team up at least?

"...Deal. But I ask the first one." Sure, why shouldn't he, if it makes him happy.

"If you're not a guard, who are you then?" Didn't expect any other question, to be fair. But you made the rules yourself, no lying. Well, to a degree with this question, you definitely wouldn't reveal your identity THIS easily, to an Arkham inmate even less. "A Detective Aide." It wasn't a complete lie, you're technically under questionable contract with Jim, in case the media ever wondered how you, a normal citizen, ended up at so many of the crime scenes, seemingly helping the real Detectives with their jobs.

"...wait. You're with the GCPD??" Seems like you struck a sensitive spot with that already, even his bruised eye opening a bit alongside his other one from the shock as he scoots away from you by a few inches. "I'm guessing the GCPD then caught you for whomever you killed?" His green eye caught your dark blue ones, he looked like a deer in headlights, "Y-you could say that. Yeah…I was finally free and they threw me back into a new cage…"

Finally free?

"My turn. What the hell is your name anyway, I don't want to keep calling you Ginger or Carrotboy for all eternity." "Well, unlike me, if you're working with these corrupt dickwads, you aren't exactly stuck an eternity here, are ya?" Well, it heavily depends on how long they would let you simmer in the cells and nothing else. Might as well become an eternity with your usual amount of luck.

"...oh…and it's Jerome. Jerome Valeska. Yours?" Huh. You swore you heard that name somewhere before, you just didn't know exactly where. If he killed someone, he might've been in the news that day? Though this was Gotham's newspapers you're thinking about here, if they'd waste even an inch of paper for one measly murder case, it'd be really fucking odd.

But a mass murder caused by the Joker's Laughing Gas? Yeah. That would probably manage to find a spot. Somewhere.

"I take that as your second question, Jerome. My name…well, first I need you to promise to not utter it to anyone in here." "Do you realize that they'd punch my teeth out before I could even mention it?" Point taken at that, yeah, who even knew if they would believe him if they already wanted him dead for some reason.

"My undercover name is Magdalena…but my real name is Faith Wayne."

Till now, all your answers already sent some kind of fresh shock anew through him, so once more he stared at you in disbelief, "Faith…Wayne?! You're a-" "Wayne isn't an uncommon surname, mind you." He pulls his brows up, having a hard time believing you, not that 'Wayne' is common for a surname. But that you're not A Wayne.

"But are-" "Yeah." "Damn. …How did a Wayne end up as an Aide? I would expect you to someday get your father's company…or at least work there by now." And be hated by all of Gotham, not just its mass of criminals!? HA. NO!

"I...would rather not…too much work, which I already got enough of on most days." Cleary your answer only spawned more fresh question marks in Jerome's head as he kept looking at you just as lost as before. "Adopted or…"

"Biological."

"So…with you knowing that I am a Wayne, yay, you basically know where I live alread-" "Some extremely extravagant old-money house I am guessing." Nail on the head, yeah. You nod at that, in a 'More or less' way before you pick your interrupted sentence back up, "Where did you live before your address was changed into Arkham?" He had started picking at his fingers, especially the dry skin around his nails as he pulls his lips into a grimace. His home didn't give him good memories then, like most people that were here now. You doubt there is even one Inmate in Arkham that didn't have at least one bad or even terrible memory of their old homes.

"A…a traveling Circus. Does Haly's Circus ring a bell?" Ring a bell?! It was etched into your mind from your brother's childhood stories. Of course you did. "I…I actually know very well what Circus you mean…one of my adopted brothers lived and worked there with his parents as well." His mouth formed an O at that, surprise even more evident even with his still aching wounds keeping his facial expressions on the low pretty much, but he definitely didn't look like he wanted to be left in the dark about your Brother now. "Does the name Grayson ring a bell to you then?"

He was unsurprisingly quick to nod at that, "The flying Graysons. I heard of the "incident" that killed them back then from some talk I overheard while working, I was only 3 then yet though, when they died. So I fortunately didn't witness it, even if, I wouldn’t remember I guess…" You couldn't believe it, of course they most likely never met, but Dick was in the same Circus as the ginger next to you. It was shocking how small the world sometimes really was, but not all that weird if your own whole life circled around nothing but Gotham and the surrounding area…

For a few moments, both of you sat quietly, working on digesting and processing the new information: For you it was the Circus that connected you to two people now, for Jerome the fact that your a Wayne.

He would've expected anything but that.

He was first to continue though, turning more towards you so he didn't have to crane his neck to the side the whole time, leaning against the wall as he pulled his legs against his chest, mustering you more thoroughly, "So…how is it living with a billionaire dad?" Yeah, how was such a life?

"Pretty damn boring sometimes. Not even because I can have or do have everything I would possibly want, nah, he didn't raise us like that must I add. But…the fucking events, the gala about every. second. month. They make us want to bash our heads in, to put it bluntly but honest. My second oldest brother was close to making it a reality once because he hates formal suits like the plague." It was something you rarely confessed to other people, as you promised to keep a somewhat good impression in front of strangers for Bruce, so it felt a bit weird feeling so at ease with sharing your distaste for your boring ass rich kid life with the boy in front of you.

Maybe because there was an incredibly low chance he would ever see the world beyond the gates of Arkham again to talk about your deeply personal feelings…

Why did that idea sound so…terrible to you? He killed someone for God's sake! ...He still didn't look the part either way, his ginger hair, crusted over even now with his own blood, one stray, unruly lock of it hanging away and over his forehead, the dimmed freckles on his face, nose and even going down his neck, probably continuing on his shoulders...and the rest of his body. The deep interest buried into his unbruised eye at all the things he got to know about you and all it made him want to know more about you.

Had you met him outside of Arkham, he would've never come to your mind as the subject of probably cold blooded murder. And from all of Batman's "Robins", you're the one that could see through the many masks of your fellow humans the best. So why, if there was one, could you not see through his? "Do...do I have something on my face?" Wait, have you been staring at his face the whole time of your stupid inner monologue!? Oh great, not weird at all, Faith. But you're literally here as a crazy person, undercover, but either way: you were allowed to stare.

"A few freckles are saying hi. But other than that, no."

"Don't start with them now…I can't even count as far for how often I was bullied for them at that stupid fucking shithole of a Circus before! I hate them!" He hates his...freckles? Why? They aren't even that prominent on him, which might be due to the current lack of daily sunlight in Arkham. But how can anybody bully someone for them, you wished you had freckles but noooo, your Dad's stupid genes made you look so damn basic, black hair, blue eyes, wohoo baby... "I think they look really nice on you, though I think you need to get out into the sun a bit more again…" "...Nice!? I doubt anyone ever even thought about complimenting them…" Jerome laments, first caught off guard, then in thought, brushing with his non-bandaged hand over said few still visible patches of them on his cheeks. It was very obvious that he was badly self-conscious about them, a random girl telling him that she liked them wouldn't be able to fix years of negative comments about them like magic.

Sometimes you wished insecurities worked that way though, that all a person needs is ONE compliment and everything is forgotten. But nothing is ever that easy.

"Well, you were surrounded by cunts then. I doubt you will ever have to see any of these people again though, so forget what they said about you. The past is the past, live in the present, and always keep planning ahead for the future." A short, melancholic chuckle shook his body for a moment as he also shook his head, letting the hand fall back onto his knees as he toyed with the pillow in his other hand. As much as the bandage let him at least. "What future…this cell is my only future, where they will let me rot and decay if need be. I will die in here, either from malnutrition, the other nutcases here…or myself. Whoever or whatever is quicker." He tried to hide it, but you saw his eyes both glaze over, quick to soak the threatening tears up with the bandage around his right hand.

He knew his most likely fate. So did you.

So why did you tell him about all this, knowing it would only hurt him further? Were you that detached from reality sometimes?

"I'm sorr-" "It's okay." "No it isn't, I…I forget my manners or to think through my words, especially now. I can't help it..." The last time you took your medication was two days ago now, the afternoon before this Undercover Mission began. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, had the accident yesterday not happened – would you be able to investigate now instead of being stuck in the cell blocks because otherwise your head would be attempted to be smashed into pancake batter – you could've managed with the steady decline of the meds missing in your system.

"Why?" Asks the actual inmate, yeah thanks. "Impulsivity Disorder, a bit like ADHD but without all the other shtick connected to that. So even if I am not a real Inmate…I have a bit of a crack running through my noggin too. Ha…ironic sometimes…" Phoenix, a vigilante hunting down the insane and crazy of Gotham…is one of them. Well, your condition is still much more mild than whatever is wrong with some of the women and men in here, you don't violently rip the head of Squirrels off to eat them like Cocoa Puffs, for a quite brutal but unfortunately not made-up and gruesome example. "And you? Has anyone ever told you what made you…you?" He shook his head yes, but didn't immediately come out with the words, instead he felt his eyes wander up to the ceiling of the cell. Just as boring and plain as everything else around the two of you – the only interesting aspects right now.

"..."Diagnosed" as a psychopath…if they only knew how long it took for me to get pushed this far…too far." Air quotes added to the word 'Diagnosed' woke your curiosity anew as you used the fact of the beds being slightly wider than a normal single bed format to lie down with your head at the opposite end of it, slightly tilted to position your now propped up legs, one folded over the other, next to his. He looked caught off guard how even after, especially after, he confessed his own condition, his reason for being in Arkham and not a normal prison, you kept being so close to him on your own free will. Hell, you even got more comfortable.

...Psychopathy.

Psychopaths are good at hiding their true selves, but as you mentioned earlier, you were uncannily good at seeing through such masks as well. And yes, that included those of Psychopaths and Sociopaths. So when your first thought of "Shit, he is probably only acting shy, he might be manipulating you." crossed your mind, moments after you heard of his diagnosis, "diagnosis", it was just as quickly rubbed away again by that comically large mental eraser when you realized that you would've most certainly noticed if that werethe damn case. If he would've had lied till now.

But he took this game of questions as serious as you hoped he would. Unlike your unruly siblings sometimes, especially your youngest brother, that little Garden Gnome with an attitude.

"Why the air quotes?" You ask the question that burned you the most of all he just said, wanting to know how it came to said diagnosis. "You're gonna laugh…a Detective just wrote it down. Arkham accepted it as a real diagnosis, didn't question it at all. They didn't even call for a "second assessment". Air quotes this time because there wasn't a first one in the first place of fucking course…" So…it might be some other mental problem…or none at all. But the GCPD wanted to make their job easier, or that one Detective at least…

Even after everything you and your family are trying to do, everything the Commissioner is trying to do…corruption is eating up even the Police to this very day. Will Gotham ever see the day that the innocent and the rightful, the law abiding citizens win? Well, Jerome still killed someone, he wasn't really all that innocent. But he had been helpless either way in that moment, his fate was left in the hands of the Detectives and Officers taking care of his file, his case. In the hands one was supposed to be able to trust.

"...You mentioned that you were…pushed too far. If it's not too personal, who…was your victim? One of your bullies?" The pillow was gripped very tightly suddenly at your question, a dark look overshadowing his own curiosity as you realized he was about to lose to his tears again, angry ones this time. "No." "Then-" "I killed my mother." Oh. Oh damn.

And that was the same thing and only thing that you managed to form with your IQ of impressive 160. "Oh. Oh damn."

"Yeah, I doubt you want to hear that. They didn't listen either."

Because they don't care. All they saw was a crazy, probably insane boy that killed his poor mother, they didn't care to dig any further, you don't doubt that with these underpaid fuckwits sometimes. As often as you had to work with them, you wished you didn't have to, but it was a deal made with Jim. As your Patrols didn't often end all that calmly, much like Jason's. The two of you were only "Robins" not turned off by the idea of "accidentally" dragging a criminal across the asphalt with your cars or motorcycles. And Jim knew that. Being the closest to you of all of Batman's Sidekicks, he also was much more lenient.

Help the GCPD every once in a while with something too difficult for their normal Detectives and your own "crimes" don't make it into the files. Sometimes you could throw in a good word for Jason as well.

You had to work with people whose work ethics made you question even the system you were supposed to protect with your family. If anything, it needed to be reformed, not the people alone. Desperately.

"No. I do. I'm not the police, I do want to know." "Didn't you just say you're an Aide for them?" Well... yeah. You did. So what.

You lift your head to lock eyes with him, eyebrows knitted together at him in some way or another for calling out your one half-lie between all your truthfulness until now. You definitely wouldn't acknowledge it this time, he would have to believe either the first or the latter version. But only you knew that both are right in a way. "You have the chance to tell your side of the story to someone who promises to listen and you begin questioning that person's occupation?"

He returned the same irritated expression, as much as he could without wincing out again, holding the bandage over his cheek before grumbling out at you, since not only you knew that you're right. "...all…all of it?" "If it is needed to explain your reasoning of going with such a brutal decision of killing your own mother, yes. All of it."

His mother forced him to take care of nearly all chores around their small, crammed trailer that 3 people had to live in. If he wasn't fast enough or she found the smallest something to complain about in how he did it, and he told you that she found a reason basically every damn time, Lila, he said was her name, would beat him. Often, regularly and routinely even, to the point he wouldn't just bruise but also bleed or have to limp for weeks from how hard she would hit him, naturally with help of other objects than her hands as well.

The last ten minutes of your sneaked in stay in his own bleak cell were spent with him telling you about his childhood, of growing up at Haly's ever since he could remember. Of course all that while you made sure to analyze every twitch of a muscle and any non present one, the movements of his hands. Everything. He begins with the fact that he even had a twin brother, named Jeremiah. Of the cruel way the other residents and workers of the Circus treated him as a kid. All he was used for by the Circus was to dispose of the dung and shit all the Circus' animals left behind after the shows and feeding or cleaning routines.

All the while, she fucked a new man every second day, right in the next room or trailer, depending on who the newest man was. Clowns, Acrobats, Lion-Tamers…everything.

Then he told you about what his brother did to him, how their mother only turned her punishments and beating up a notch of extreme…because his twin told their mother that Jerome wanted to kill him in his sleep. Jerome was adamant towards you about that having been a blatant lie, as he couldn't have even done so, he was locked in a literal animal's travel cage that winter night, by his own mother as well, so she could've denied it too.

And one night, Jerome confessed, he could no longer hold onto his rage, his anger that build for all these years…he just couldn't hold it back any longer. He let his vile, dark thoughts become real and he killed her, but he waited until she touched him again, when she came in to beat him for forgetting to clean the beer cans up. With an axe, he explained, his eyes unfocused as he stared at his hands, those that held the murder weapon. His uncle, he said that fact with a sour tone, helped him try to cover it up but as he was here now, it clearly didn't work.

But she didn't, she simply used that event as an incentive to "discipline" the "black sheep of her family" even further.

You could only imagine the amount of nights Jerome spent trying to find any spot of his body he cpuld lie on without putting pressure on his bruised skin. The tears that must've fallen in all these hellish nights...

And then you were all caught up to his situation, eyes wide the whole time, your continuous follow up questions, for everything he told you with a knot in throat, just as choked out as his answers. You simply couldn't or didn't want to believe that he went through all these things…and he defended himself…he wanted…freedom.

And Arkham is what he got in return…

"Jerome, I-" you just wanted to give him your honest opinion on it all when you hear it in the distance: the jingling of two heavy key rings. The guards are coming back! "What?" Your hearing seems to be better than his as you hushed him, quickly sitting up on the bed to push a finger against his lips, getting incredibly close to the now unhindered crying boy. Again, an action from your side that happened without much thought from your end as you motioned him to either be quiet or to whisper now.

You didn’t want to leave his side already, especially not now! He looked like he was about to fall in on himself like an old building with you causing him to dig back up all of this past trauma, having given up to hold back the tears. His eyes puffy, they look into yours like a kicked puppy,

"Please don't leave me now…"

In that moment you realize that you're probably the first person he told about his abuse, about everything…a stranger he met yesterday was kinder and more understanding than any adult or other person he came across in his poor excuse of a life. He deserves to have at least one person to listen to him.

To hear him out.

But you had to leave for now, get back to your own cell before the guard saw that you had the tools to open them yourself. With a bitter, apologetic smile, you slowly get off his bed, nodding slowly at him when he keeps silent. But you couldn't give a promise without words either way, so, when you slide the cell door open as quietly as even possible, you turn towards the now absolutely miserable looking ginger one last time for today it seemed.

"We will talk more…I promise, just have some Faith."

[kingofdersecest-2]

Throwing in my two cents as well to this.

One of the major problems is that changing the sexuality or gender identity of a decade+ established legacy character is mega cringe and stupid and 10/10 times does not work.

John Egbert is cis, has been cis for as long as he's been a character concept and would be cis had Homestuck reached its natural life cycle by concluding with Act 7.

However, with the opening of The Epilogues and Homestuck2 as a whole, we open this can of worms of changing the nature of an already established three dimensional character, who has already gone through his character development and character arcs in the previous work.

So with the proposal of June Egbert as a concept, we open the jar of worms into John deciding to become trans at some point in his "adulthood" him being a 30 something god who is immortal and whose physical age is questionable because HS2 continues to use the spritework of the characters when they were 13 so its really fucking difficult to determine how old these motherfuckers are supposed to be even though they have families so you get the incredibly creepy depiction of 13 year old sprite john standing next to his wife and child.

Anyways, I say him deciding to become trans because this was not a natural course for John to discover this about himself. I know The Trans Journey is a whole thing about self discovery, and that every Trans Person is born Trans and the trick of it is discovering it for yourself, usually through feelings of dysphoria.

This is all if you are a real person. John is not a real person. John is a fictional character who is written by real people. Real people decided that John, a previously cis character would become trans.

Now becoming trans is an interesting fictional character arc but it comes far too late for John, for you see, he already had a journey of self discovery, it was called Homestuck, perhaps you've heard of it?

In Homestuck, one of the main themes is "Growing up is hard and nobody understands" and the characters all revolve around that theme in some way, they grow up, come into themselves, discover their sexualities, such as Dave and Rose discovering they are bisexual. Such discoveries would also reveal gender identities, and indeed Homestuck had a vehicle that would have made the trans metaphor perfect.

Dream Selves/God Tier. In case you dont remember, Dream Selves reflect how the person sees themselves. Those that needed glasses still gave their dreamselves poor vision and requiring glasses, Terezi's dreamself was still blind and used her smell-sense to get around, and most interestingly, Dave's dreamself had the sunglasses he got from John as a gift, the Ben Stiller shades, rather then the anime shades he had worn beforehand, or no shades at all, although Dave had a whole thing about hiding his eyes, so thats part of his identity too.

Now, the meta reason the dreamselves were like this was just so Hussie could re-use the same sprites with a clothing swap, but the in-universe explanation is really fascinating, and if any of the characters were Trans, you'd see June where John's dreamself was, and upon ascending to Godtier, would become her.

But alas, this did not happen as John was not trans at the time. And I bet the HS2 writers are just seething that the perfect trans metaphor slipped through their fingers 14 years ago.

So the Homestuck2 have to desperately cobble together a hackneyed plot to which John discovers him being June, probably through Ultimate Ascension, since becoming your Ultimate Self merges all versions of yourself into you. How and why this would turn John trans and not Dirk, who the fuck knows, or cares? They may not even do it through the Ultimate Self and may just come up with some other magical bullshit way for him to transition. Any way they do it, it'll be fucked up.

Why? Because their representation has always been fucked up!

Homestuck 2 has its trans representation in Miss Jade Harley, Dog-Dick Bull extraordinaire. Jade fused with Bec, her male dog, which gave her a dog dick. She wanted a baby so bad, so she convinced Rose, who is in a lesbian relationship with Kanaya, to have a secret baby with her, and name it after a Furry Porn Joke, thus Yiffany was born.

A character so fucking terrible it horseshoes itself into being the best character Homestuck has ever made.

Goddamn, I fucking love Yiffany so fucking much.

If you had told me this. If you had told me that a Dog-Futa had cucked a lesbian couple to make a secret baby named after a hentai joke, and then asked me who wrote it. You know what I would say? I would have said the most queerphobic motherfucker on the planet.

Someone who actively hates lesbians, trans people, and just the entire LGBT community as a whole. I might even call that person a nazi.

But no! Alas I would guess wrong. Because it was not a queerphobic bigot, it was…..a queer person. Multiple queer people in fact had their hands in this….disaster of an idea.

Bonafide pronouns in bio motherfuckers. People that would gladly tell you their gender identity, sexual preferences and mental illnesses at the drop of a fucking hat. Genuine Carrrd carrying bitches.

About as Terminally Online Queer, as you could possibly get.

Now of course ole Hussie gets the blame for this, I heard tell that HS2 had some demands that the futa-cuck-yiffany plan had to happen. No idea if this is true, and again, Hussie is blamed for June to be totally planned from the start, and the stupid as shit Toblerone Wish only was a happy coincidence and it was going to happen anyway.

Obviously this is a complete and total fucking lie. But lets go with it. Lets for a second, pretend that it is true.

My question is, why? Why go along with Hussies terrible idea? I can only thing that somehow, the new team writing for HS2, is contractually bound to write June in somewhere. I have no fucking idea how much power Hussie has over Homestuck anymore, but I suppose he still has the power over contracts? Who the fuck knows.

So the question is, do you trust that the comic, that gave us a futa-lesbian cuck-sex joke child will give us a positive trans journey for John?

Fuck no.

can i ask why june is bad or is the whole thing with june behind something problematic?

I just think it doesn't fit with the story. And it doesn't really add more to John as a character. So he's trans, so what? That doesn't stop from the fact he was depressed and most of his friends are assholes. Not like him being trans is gonna make things better. And if people bring up his depression was from the gender identity, it wasn't the case when we had spent years reading his journey from his 13th birthday of wanting to play a game with his friends and crazy shit happened. I also like John as he is and just want him to be happy. I want all the characters to be happy. Sadly, Homestuck is not about happiness. Not in the base webcomic, the spin-offs, sequels, or even Homestuck Beyond Canon. It's all about the nihilism approach that no matter what a character does to improve, the story can only move forward if they are the absolute worst.

[leviathanspain]

mi amor

namor x avenger!reader

synopsis: after a long time running away from the one man who had promised you the world, you realize your fears have come to fruition

disclaimer: i have NOT seen the movie yet lmaooo i work all the time + i’m a cheap ass waiting for the pirated websites to upload the HD versions for the movie so bear with me if none of this is remotely accurate— based off of fics and clips i’ve seen

mi amor - my love

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you could hear the clamor of the fight. you had stayed back, the look of disappointment on shuri’s face when she tried to tug on you to help was like salt in your deep wound. you knew exactly who it was, having caught glimpses of their blue skin and their clothing, you felt the bile rise in your throat as panic surged your body.

had he truly found you again? after all this time?

you had spent the months after leaving, destroying every piece of your identity, faking your death, selling your belongings and erasing yourself from existence. for a time, it was easy. half the world had been snapped so half the people who once knew you, were gone.

but it didn’t make the struggle of it all any less. the avengers had dissolved, especially considering that half of your teammates were gone, you were left with one option, one that you weren’t really sure was reliable anymore.

wakanda had once let you call it home, and you hoped it would once again.

nakia’s voice was like music to your ears as the call had finally been picked up on the third ring.

your head fell into your hand with a sigh of relief, “nakia!” you nearly cried, “nakia, thank the gods..”

you heard a faint whisper of a man in the background before nakia responded with your name, “y/n? what’s wrong?”

your unloading of the situation took a mere five minutes, but nakia was already on her way with a jet to retrieve you in less than.

being back on wakanda was jarring. you had been here before, happy and accompanying bucky as he healed from hydra’s touch. and it was here, that you saw him for the very first time.

legends that your mother had told you never measured to his. he was pure magic, a mystical being that had you bowing on your knees.

he rose from the water as you felt the tears prick from your eyes. the darkness casted a shadow over his face, and it wasn’t until he was breathing your air, that you finally saw the beauty of him.

you felt the gasp of air leave your lungs, and instead, filled with the pounding water from down below.

you wanted to scream, feeling the burning of your lungs, you clawed at your throat, and even more at him, for his beauty was a facade for the evil that sat within him.

as he set a hand on your shoulder, intent on watching you die within his wrath, you gripped his hand, and let the fire of your pain burn through onto his skin.

he pulled back, hissing as he looked down at his injury. you collapsed at the same time, the water that made your lungs burn now emptied out on the ground, gasping for air you heaved.

“what..” you coughed, still gulping at the left over sea water, “the fuck?!” you yelled.

“i have the same question to ask you..” his voice was accented, a twinge of spanish just at the brink of his tongue you could almost hear it.

he looked down at his burn and smirked softly, “you are the fire they’ve warned about..”

you sent yourself back to reality.

“enough dwelling in the past..” you muttered. you mustered up your strength and stepped out onto the scene. it was less horrifying as you imagined, considering his style.

all the words fell immediately as you revealed yourself. shuri and ramonda both turned and the reveal of your betrayal played in their eyes.

“y/n.” his voice was like forbidden music to your ears. you turned your gaze away from them and faced him.

you regretted your decision to show, but you understood that this was partly your fault.

“k'uk'ulkan.” his name was like honey on your tongue, a sound to him that left him buzzing. you looked at him and wanted to beg the question, wanted to ask why he would go to such lengths to find you.

“don’t think that i didn’t know. i can feel you move amongst them, your heart is aligned with mine..” namor moved closer to you, “i felt them, their heartbeat, their energy..” namor whispered now, his words ever so enchanting.

you mustered up the courage and pushed him back roughly, the sound of sizzling flesh was heard just as his soldiers, stepped in front of him with weapons pointed at your neck.

you scoffed, “i was once considered your queen, your ruler and you my subjects, and you dare forget me so soon..” you stepped back, and ignored their faces as you stared at namor, “there is not a corner on this earth that you will leave unsearched, but there is the fact that you will never find him.” your words were like knives to his heart, and he seethed.

as you prepared to step back, run away as you have always done, the emotion that tugged at your heartstrings made you stop, and gaze him in the eye once more.

“how could you have done this to me, mi amor?” he was murmuring the words, and you looked back to see the wakandians glaring at you with betrayal, “i promised to give you the world,” he opened his arms and turned with a grimace, “even if the world is undeserving of your beauty, your power can change it, change them.” he glowered at the wakandians.

you shook your head, “how could i have stayed knowing your were walking the narrow line between justice and tyranny?” you echoed, “i made my decision, and i live with it everyday that he asks who his father is.” you sniffled, “it is now your turn to live with the consequences of your actions, mi amor.” the last words felt antagonizing, like salt to another deep wound.

the pain of walking away, knowing you had just given up another place you could’ve called home eventually, was tough. your son was with nakia, the only one entrusted with the information regarding his parentage, you had him blended into society, a child who lived in ignorance filled bliss.

you would give up your life, if it meant namor would never see him.

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

Naughty(Pt2)

Part 1 here

Warnings: The Grabber's a warning at this point, flinching, still dark, non-con watching (nudity)/some voyeurism, mention of blood, somewhat a bit of Stockholm syndrome, mention of arousal(on his part), not proof read, mentions of wanting to throw up Ig

Note: It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I’m glad you wanted a part 2 🥰 Here it is!(it's still gender neutral<3)

Please don’t ask for a part 3, I’m not sure I’ll make one

-

-the next day-

*click*

You turned your head to the side at the noise, your eyes now wide opened as the heavy door creaked. The light was still off, so the brightness from upstairs made you wince a bit as it was still kind of dark outside. Snot clogged your sinuses as you thought about what happened yesterday as you watched The Grabber's figure come towards you, then put a tray in front of you as he mostly always did. You stayed on your side, not wanting to hurt your back more than it already was as you stared at him, fear and hatered in your eyes. Fortunately, he’d taken care of your wounds while you were asleep, and you were happy that you weren’t awake for that. You probably would have signed your death certificate and fought against him..

You didn't know if you would have prefered bleeding out or staying there in your own personal hell.

''Good morning!'' His childish and happy voice made you flinch as you backed closer to the wall, not touching the food he'd set in front of you. You silently winced when your tender back met the cold concrete, the sound catching his ears and making him grin, which you obviously can't see atm.

The man continued to stare at you, seemingly waiting for an answer, which you gave in the form of a grumble, not wanting anything like yesterday to happen.

“So!” He clapped his hands, which made you flinch again. “…How about a change of clothes?… I know I said naughty girls/boys only get punishments, but I’m feeling generous…” The last part was said softer, a dark tone to his voice. In your mind, he clearly wasn’t ‘feeling generous’, it clearly was for something… Something that probably only him would like, as usual.

As he obviously still waited for an answer, you muttered a ‘yes’, your eyes staring at the ground. “What was that?..” He got menacingly closer, tilting his head at you. “…Yes…please….” You were surprised at your voice’s steadiness as you sat, grimacing and wincing in pain.

“Goody!”

His grip on your forearm was firm but soft as he helped you get up, his other hand going to the small of your back. “Be right back-“

He surprised you by booping your nose, making you stumble back a bit and catch yourself against the wall as he let go of your arm. His sudden childishness made you extremely uncomfortable and increased your fear. It was as if yesterday didn’t happen, and you hated to think about everything that could happen since you were (unfortunately) still alive…. He then left the room, locking the door behind him.

Now as if your day wasn’t shitty enough, a glance at your left showed you that there was something important missing.

The black phone.

Did he know about what the kids told you?? Or did he guess?? ...did he know you could hear it too?? Questions filled your head-

You stared at where it once rested, your jaws slack and mouth open as you blinked dumbly at the wall, as if it would appear magically. You were fucking doomed, the only thing that could help you: gone.

“For fuck’s sake…” A whimper left you as you let a rising sob escape you, your shoulders shaking as you hugged yourself. The only comfort you had were the familiar but thorn clothes on your back, which you would get rid of once he came back.. you became a new, but bad, version of yourself. You were broken. He’d slowly started to make you get rid of your identity, make you follow his rules and change your agenda, everything.

Your body shook as you sobbed into your hands. Even if you tried to stop, you couldn’t as you tried desperately to breath correctly.

The sun had now risen, which actually made you sob more as you gasped at the appearance of your blood covered hands. It was obviously from your wounds, the blood dried, but you still couldn’t help how shocked you were… It was awesome that there weren’t any mirrors in the basement, or you’d probably have a heart attack. Sobs continued to echo around the concrete walls as you heard the stairs creak outside the door, the click of the lock unlocking, then the door opening. You couldn’t even look up as your body continued to shake, not even as you felt his arms wrap around you as if he truly cared and was trying to comfort you… “Shh… It’s okay…” You couldn’t think as you strangely felt your heart rate slow at his somewhat soothing voice.

If you weren’t in this situation, I’m know way would you feel like that… well, that what you thought.

Your eyes still burned as he let you go, gently patting your waist. “So, here it is.. Got to do with what we have!” As your eyes looked up to what he was holding out to you, it was like as if you couldn’t breathe. The black silk shirt made your gut twist, but not more that the black boxer shorts on top of it… He wanted you to change completely.

You waited for the nausea, but… felt heat instead??? What tf’s wrong with you?? You could only feel a bit of it, most of your feelings being embarrassment and another one you didn’t want to dwell on.

“I thought you’d want to change everything… I didn’t find any pants that I thought would fit you, though…” His nonchalant voice made you sigh as you took the clothes, starting to make your way to go to the bathroom- “What do you think you’re doing?” A large hand was placed on your shoulder as he stopped you in your steps, and you realized what would happen.

“I…” Your throat got tighter as you held the clothes in your fists, your knuckles turning pale. He only leaned against the wall opposite you, his stare burning through you. As the silence became thicker, he cleared his throat, and his aura became darker. ''...I'm not leaving you alone after what happened, (Y/N).'' Fake and burning kindness made tears come back to the surface as you pulled off your shirt in a haste, shaky hands unfolding his shirt, which was fortunately a bit baggy on you. The silk made you want to throw up, but you kept it down.. He continued to stare as you buttoned it up with difficulty, and you could almost hear his impatience whenever you missed a hole. The boxers were the harder part as you had to step out of your pants, then turn to the side as to avoid his gaze(which obviously didn't work as he caged you in the corner). You'd quickly gotten out of your underwear, hiding your private area beneat the fabric of the shirt, then put them on, your terrified gaze going back up to him. You unfortunately didn't miss the horrifying bulge in front of his pants as he got closer... only to bend down and take your dirty clothes from the concrete floor.

You hoped it wasn't planned that he obviously looked you up and down while he got back to his full height, the action making you shield yourself.

''You look better in my clothes..''

With that, he left you there, scared and in clothes that were his, his smell making you almost cry again.

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

So as a queer person, as a nonbinary person, as a transmasc, I had...an uncomfy conversation with a cis friend who just...didn’t get it.

¡She tries! ¡She does use my pronouns every time! She just...misunderstood how binary trans & nonbinary trans worked, & oversimplified the fuck out of it (binary down to if they desperately want surgery/medical transition or not, & nonbinary down to rejecting the patriarchy & societal influence on gender). & I disagreed in many ways with her oversimplification.

However...it did give me a new lens to question gender through.

The idea of, “¿if you could remove the patriarchy in its entirety, or lived in a society that didn’t objectify women sexually, or [insert any shitty racist, sexist, bigoted, etc. box that gets labeled man/woman, masculine/feminine, etc., thing you would have to remove, eliminate any Christian / other religious or spiritual contexts that may have influenced you], would you still identify as nonbinary? Why/why not?”

& like....maybe not.

Maybe if men weren’t demanded to be predatory. Maybe if we lived in a less problematic version of fantasy medieval world, with castles & whatnot but no sexism/racism/classism/etc., where women were safe around men & I could be a Gentleman In A Cloak™, I’d be just a transman & that’s that.

Maybe if women weren't only complimented for their sexual appeal, & were never sexually harassed or attacked, I'd be less uncomfortable being misgendered on accident (on purpose still is gross).

Maybe I would identify as a binary guy.

But in the context we live in, I'm nonbinary because fuck the patriarchy & modern masculinity.

I'm a chipper young fellow with a cape/cloak who goes around making people's day brighter and holding doors for ladies & gentleman & everything on or off the spectrum of gender.

I don’t care to be perceived as a Man™ by today’s definition - especially not the definition put out by white, &/or cishet, &/or rich, &/or powerful, &/or Christian, &/or Republican/conservative men.

& I think that’s an important thing to question, and to understand about myself & my journey.

It just felt icky how she phrased it, so I reworded it (no hate to her, we’re in-person friends & I knew she’d stumble because she doesn’t have a lot of trans friends). I wish she could’ve asked it differently.

I’m curious how other people would answer that question (as I rephrased it above, with those clarifiers, ¿would you identify or present yourself differently?), so feel free to reblog or reply to answer (or send Asks if you’d rather 🤷‍♂️)!

Hate will be blocked, this is for fun & hypothetical questioning, not for intense criticism.

This can include BIPOC/BBIMP, white people, people of any faith/religion (upbringing or currently practicing or both), people of any/all nonbinary identities (agender, neopronouns, genderfluid, masc/fem enby, enby, androgynous/masc/fem presenting, demigender, additive or subtractive, etc.), people of binary identities (if you want to), people with trauma histories or without, etc. - any person of any category, group, etc. who wants to participate.

I hope you find it as intriguing as I did.

~Nico (he/they)

[burnedbyshoto]

split

— Shouto becomes victim of a quirk accident. In that he become two people who get along as well as fire and ice do. They clash at every moment, and only seem to agree on one thing: their love for you. Or in which Shouto gets split into two by a quirk that spilts chimeras and in order for peace to be found you find yourself in a threesome with two halves that make the one you love most.

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pairing: split!todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, threesome, split!shouto, anal, double penetration, blowjob, rimming, cunnilingus, cursing, degradation, praise 

word count: 8,930

a/n: LMAOOOOOO this waas actually fun to write the names I gave them were super easy because I am uncreative. I used an anons rec for shoutos hero name: reisho so that’s what that is. and thank you to my lovely canasian for finding the original drabble I wrote. pls enjoy!

kinktober day 6 main kink: threesome

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“What’s going on?”

It was a series of words that often came out of your mouth because, as a Pro Hero, there were many times where you had no idea what was going on. It usually ranged from asking why Kaminari and Kirishima were giggling and avoiding your gaze when you walked into a room to coming onto an active battle where Bakugou and Midoriya were bloodied and crazed. There was nothing off-limits to those words, as they were, after all, said in complete confusion. 

“Where is he?!” you tried again, watching as nineteen different eyes look everywhere but at you.

However, it was without given when you watched your twenty -- wait, was that twenty-one? -- former classmates both stumble into one another as they turn to face you.

“Y/l/n-chan!” Mina squeaked, stepping up from the crowd, trying to cover up the two people in there that you couldn’t quite recognize as your classmates. “How was patrol? I heard that Todoroki-kun left you midway!”

You wished that last comment didn’t make your cheeks burn as intensely as it did.

Today had been one of the rare days that you had gone off on your route with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shouto. Both of you watched the busy streets and whispering between yourself as you avoided the masses, not wanting to get caught up with fan interactions that were rather unneeded. But there had been a large altercation that required Shouto’s expertise. Specifically, the voice at headquarters commanded that you stay on patrol while Shouto would leave. So you had watched as Shouto placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb softly petting your cheek, his smile warm.

“I’ll be back,” he had promised before taking off in a mist of ice and fire.

You continued the rest of your patrol with a rather childish pout on your face, you hadn’t enjoyed being sidelined like this, but you calmly assessed the situation. It probably wasn’t a fight you would be much aid in, and there was never a reason to send more than enough heroes onto a single area. But your route was coming to an end, and Shouto had still yet to reappear. Trying not to overthink it, you frowned while passing a store with TVs out in front.

Staring at the bright, flashing screen, you suddenly felt a sense of panic at the headliner: Chimera Quirk-Wielding Villain Apprehended by Pro Heroes Froppy, Pinky, and Reisho. (slight injuries on the hero team.)

With concern pitting up horribly in your stomach for your friends and boyfriend, you finished your assignment as calmly as you could, before finally getting to rush back to your agency. You had taken to the rooftops to get there as quickly as you could.

Through all that, you found yourself right where you had been in the beginning, staring at Mina, who despite the few scrapes of dirt and soot on your costume, looked normal. Your eyes glanced over at Tsuyu, who, like Mina, was unharmed -- which left Shouto.

“Something strange happened during that battle,” Momo spoke up, her face set with concern, her eyes, although not horrified, was definitely a bit at a loss for an explanation.

“Wha--?”

“The person we fought against could make chimera’s out of people, but the limits of their quirk meant that once they made a chimera, they couldn’t add more to the creation,” Mina explained, her head nodding as she looked from Momo to you. Her fingers were tugging at her pink curls, and you tilted your head.

“Is Shouto still smashed together with someone or something?” you asked, a bit hesitant to see what potentially horrific creation your boyfriend could have turned into. “I’ve seen Shouto show up home after the poop-villain fiasco, I swear I won’t cry if he’s ugly!”

“Well, no, kero,” Tsuyu frowned, her finger pressing to her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Mina-chan and I were a chimera for a bit, and the quirk has a limit when they make a chimera.”

You didn’t like how that was worded.

“Just fucking show her the idiots who threw the match!” Bakugou snapped, his eyebrows furrowed as he shoved the crowd away in the middle, parting them like Moses did the red sea. 

Idiots? You thought, your confused expression growing as you looked from Bakugou’s frowning face onto what they had been hiding from you.

And you instantly understood why when you were greeted with two heads. One entirely redheaded, the other entirely white-haired, each with identical faces who looked at you with the same tone to their eyes.

“You see, their quirk can also separate chimera’s, and well… I — we, guess that Todoroki-san is one,” Momo informed you as you stared at opposite replicates of your loving boyfriend. “The villain said they’ve never split a natural-born human chimera before, it had been their first time, so the lasting effects of the quirk are unknown.”

The redheaded Shouto still sported a scar on his face, but he felt completely different. His face was cold, stare distant, and burning with a suppressed, denied fury that you couldn’t recognize on him outside of a battlefield. But even with the cold look encompassing his body and stature like a thick sheet of ice, when he looked at you with his set of two burning turquoise eyes, you knew his feelings for you were still the same.

The white-haired Shouto had no scar, and he looked much closer to the man you knew currently, except maybe a bit more open? His face quipped into a smile, his eyes swimming with mirth, joy, and content with finally seeing you here, all good emotions but emotions you weren’t used to him exposing to the public like this. But even with the warm, loving look burning softly around him, his set of grey eyes shone with feelings you knew were true.

“My boyfriend is split into two?!”

There was something wrong with that sentence, something that carried heat because the moment you said those words, both Shouto’s seemed to freeze next to each other. Icy and fiery glares meeting in an electric firestorm as Deku promptly dragged you out of the room with Momo and Mina. You struggled against Deku’s iron grip, only seeing white-haired Shouto’s jaw drop in the beginnings of a speech while redheaded Shouto glowered at him with all the intensity he could muster.

“Y/l/n-san, we need you to never, ever mention that they’re the same person,” Deku immediately spoke as soon as the door between the hallway and the room where the Shouto’s were closed. “He’s — they’re — not handling that information very well, and are acting rather… immature about who the real ‘Todoroki-kun’ is.”

“They’re not connected by the same mind?!” you spluttered, your own mind feeling like it was split down the middle at the hypothesis that your boyfriend was both of these men, but none of them. “So, it’s like a split personality manifesting completely?”

“We’re a bit sure on how to compare it to something such as dissociative disorder,” Momo spoke calmly, undoubtedly her mind working a mile a millisecond to make sense of the strange predicament you all were in. “He’s been in here for some time now. And from what we’ve managed to question from him, both parts of Todoroki-san remember everything. It seems they differ in just how they felt about it on an emotional basis.”

You blinked once, twice.

“Do you mind giving me an example?”

Goddamn idiot you were.

“Well, I guess the bigger emotional differences were during our high school years,” Midoriya mumbled, his fingers pinching his lower lip in thought. “A good example would be why he challenged me during the sports festival. Redhead Shouto said he did it because he hated Endeavor so much back then he was willing to prove his strength no matter what. White-haired Shouto says it was an overreaction on his own part and that he’s truly sorry.”

You frowned.

“It almost sounds like if Todoroki-san’s quirk had been only one of his parents, and his two halves are insights to the life he would have led if he had only one,” Momo offered a pursed stare. She didn’t seem too sure of her conclusion, but for you, it was enough.

“Honestly, you were the only one I saw both Todoroki-kun’s act the same toward!” Mina exclaimed, her hands grabbing your shoulders as she leaned in close, a sly grin on her face. “It’s like the two of you are destined lovers, no matter how the world is!”

“Mina!” you whined, feeling utterly embarrassed as she snickered loudly, her eye falling into a wink before straightening up.

“Alright, so just a recap: don’t mention which one is the ‘real’ Todoroki,” Mina warned, already moving back into the room.

“What do we call them then?” you whispered, feeling not at all prepared to stare at two, stupid hot versions of your same boyfriend.

“Ah-ha, well,” Midoriya smiled embarrassed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you all walked back in. “Only Kacchan brought up a nickname so far.”

“YOU STUPID FUCKING RED HALF!” Bakugou’s voice roared the moment the door opened, and immediately, you were pulled back into the mess of the situation. “I’LL MURDER YOUR ASS!”

“Someone was clearly not raised on manners,” came the snide remark from Shouto’s white half, and you watched on in horror as your old male classmates worked together to hold off all three rambunctious boys to keep from fighting.

“LET GO OF ME, SHITTY HAIR! I’LL GIVE THEM BOTH NEW SCARS IF THEY KEEP ACTING LIKE THIS!”

But you stared at the apathetic face on Shouto’s red half, his eyes somehow empty, dull, and angry as he glared at Bakugou.

Red half.

Red.

You looked at Shouto’s white half that was grinning at the challenge, icy frosting off his body akin to the explosions on Bakugou’s fists as he egged him on. 

White.

That would be easy enough.

You snorted, before walking forward, grabbing your boyfriend(s) hands in yours, and they quickly turned to look at you. Their gazes turning warm and full, their demeanor utterly different as the raging Bakugou faded into the background. 

“So, I’m sure you both know what’s going on at the moment,” you spoke clearly, just loudly enough to be heard over the popping explosions on Bakugou’s palms. “I also know you’re both confident in who you are, but the truth is you both have the same name, so we’re going to need a new thing to call the both of you. Is that okay?”

“Ah, I see,” white-haired Shouto nodded, his hand tightening around yours, his thumb running along the backside of your palm. “You will continue to call me Shouto, and we will call him, the Imposter.”

Wait, what?!

“I’m not the imposter,” redheaded Shouto rolled his eyes, taking the hand he held up to his lips, pressing a gentle, warm kiss to your knuckles — it contrasted chillingly with the cold, aloof tone he continues to have with his white half. “I am, after all, the one with the facial scar. It is the most recognizable feature of me. Clearly, you’re the imposter.”

You had to ignore the way your stomach fluttered and how your cheeks exploded in heat as both Shouto’s were suddenly kissing your knuckles. They only went further after leaving warm, chilling kisses on your skin. For they pulled you closer by your waist, a physical challenge between the two to claim you. Even though they both were for you.

It was only made worse by the wide-eyed, cheek splitting grins, and spluttering noises made by your old classmates who relished in this rom-com type embarrassment.

“Oh my god, enough!” you squeaked, trying to shove both overpowering men away from you.

“See, you’re being too much,” white-haired Shouto snapped, ripping you from redhead Shouto’s hold.

“Let. Y/n. Go.” redhead Shouto growled, hand exploding with fire, and you wrestled yourself out of white-haired Shouto’s hold to press your palms flat against each of their chests.

“You both better calm down right now, or else I’ll send you off with our friends until you’re back to normal!” you snap, your cheek radiating with explosive heat. With the threat heavy on their minds, redhead Shouto took away his flame, and white-haired Shouto took a less defensive stance. Relieved with their current treaty, you thrust a finger at both halves, looking between your way too amused classmates and your boyfriend(s). “You will be called Red--” you jabbed redheaded Shouto with your finger-- “and you will be White!” you spoke clearly, tapping white-haired Shouto with your other finger.

“Am I understood?”

Silence.

You glared at your boyfriend(s) who were staring down at you with wide eyes and gaping jaws.

“I said, am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” your boyfriend(s) sputtered.

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Highlight of Day One of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Where is Red going to sleep?” White asked as you settled into the, thankfully, large bed the two -- now three -- of you shared. “On the floor?”

The bed had been a present from Endeavor when Shouto had moved into your apartment with you. It was much bigger than anything you owned, and while you hadn’t been fond of the length and stretch of the bed, you indeed were grateful for it now.

“Y/n likes to be warm when she sleeps,” Red duly noted, glaring at White the entire time it took him to crawl onto the right side of the bed. He settled right by you, arm wrapped around your waist, chin grazing against your temple. “You sleep on the floor.”

“You need comfort to stay beautiful, and since you’re eliminated from being that because of the scar on your face, you can sleep on the floor!” White countered while reciprocating the same position Red was doing.

Red’s eyebrow twitched at that before his glare soured and became icy cold, “I have the bigger co--”

“Both of you shut up now!” you snap, the palms of your hands shoving their faces away from one another. You were feeling more like a mother to a pair of troublesome twin toddlers than the girlfriend of your boyfriend(s). “I don’t want to hear it!” you groan as both their jaws dropped to attempt to speak their mind. “If you can’t shut up and sleep, I’ll sleep on the floor!”

“No!”

“No!”

“Then shut up, love me more, and let’s go to bed!”

…

…

…

“You don’t have the bigger cock--”

“Oh my god!”

“Please don’t go, my love, White is an idiot.”

Highlight of Day Two of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Well, this is certainly an interesting thing to be experiencing,” Rei’s gentle voice filled the room as both Red and White sat at her sides. Neither one of them touching her, but their gazes warm and soft for their mother. Rei touched the cheeks of both her son(s) and sighed softly before returning her attention to you. “Has it been hard? I do hope they’ve been behaving themselves.”

You smiled in hopes it would help to hide the grimace on your features as you laughed.

Just this morning, the two of them nearly burned down the kitchen while trying to outperform one another in making you breakfast in bed. It was of ample notice to realize that just one Todoroki Shouto was not to be trusted in the kitchen, but putting two Todoroki Shouto’s in there had caused them to somehow burn water and melt the stove.

The eggs they managed to pull together were burnt yet undercooked and had eggshells in them.

It wasn’t the worst meal you’ve had fun enough.

“They’re doing just fine,” you lie, your smile warm at the woman you would hope to one day become your mother-in-law. “Just a bit odd to deal with two people when I’m so used to one.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. In fact, they initially saw Shouto was to be twins, but he absorbed the other one in the womb,” Rei admitted, a small laugh on her tongue as she politely covered her mouth, her eyes closed in her mirth. “A bit funny how it seems like this could have been the outcome of that life.”

You feel a cold sweat drip on the back of your neck as Red straightens, his eyes darkening as he makes contact with Rei’s arm, and fear thrums through every fiber of your being.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes, Shouto?” Rei asked, her warm grey eyes taking in Red’s gloomy form.

“White called me ugly.”

Highlight of Day Three of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“My love, I’m not feeling too well,” White groaned on the couch when you first arrived home.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for you, you were still being cleared to work during this time of split Shouto. After a much-needed relatively short time away from home, you had returned after a patrol to a clean apartment living room and Red sitting on the singles armchair, and White sprawled on the couch. 

You froze, Shouto hardly ever got sick! His internal temperature was always so in tune to the things around him that no virus, bug, or bacteria ever managed to infect him with sickness. For all five years of knowing him, you had never once seen him sick.

“Oh my god!” you panicked, rushing to remove your coat and shoes as you ran over to the couch to feel his forehead for a temperature.

He was running a bit cold, as he always did on his right side of his body, so you internally freaked about if this was normal or not! Your Shouto always had a specific spot on his forehead that was considered normal, but this was not your normal Shouto.

You were fucked, so wildly fucked.

“Are you okay? What do you need? I can go get you a blanket. I’ll get some soup going! What medicine do you think you need?!”

“There’s…” White trailed off in his exhaustion, his hands rubbing his face in probably his sick delirium. “There’s only one thing that will help…”

“What is it?” you asked, leaning in closer to him so that his flushed lips were centimeters from your ear.

“I need... “ he trailed off, and you leaned in closer, only to be suddenly trapped in his arms and pulled on top of him. “Some one-on-one time with my beautiful girlfriend!”

The scent of burning leather filled the room.

“WHITE PUT IT OUT! PUT OUT THE FIRE!”

“Princess, I’m not feeling good.”

Good fucking grief.

Highlight of Day Four of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot.”

“Cold.”

“Hot!”

“Cold.”

“The store has both!” you sobbed, your boyfriend(s) adopting their possessive hugging on your body while out in public as you had attempted to get them out of the house because you thought that maybe, just maybe, they were feeling stir-crazy.

“But we always share our soba noodles, y/n,” Red looked down at you, tilting your chin so that you could look at him clearly. “I know you love cold soba more.”

“We get it, Ice Princess, daddy hurt your feelings, and now you still hate everything hot! Get over it; y/n always buys hot soba when you’re not around.”

“G-Guys,” you whimper, suddenly feeling drowned out with the clashing of ice and fire personalities around you as the crowd watched on in bemusement. “Please stop.”

They suddenly both turned on you, their eyes narrowed, faces fierce as they both exclaimed at the same time: “Which soba do you like better?!”

You’re too exhausted of them to even scold them like you had used to anymore.

In the end, they tried to settle it via arm wrestling, which resulted in a horrible tie. They had both tried to use their quirks to win, somehow forgetting in the heat of their battle that their quirks not only canceled each other, but their strength was painfully equivalent. 

Highlight of Day Five of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

To be frank, you missed kissing Shouto.

With them being the way they were and how horribly chaotic they acted, you knew if you kissed one, it would lead to them both impregnating you and slipping an engagement ring on your pretty ring finger well before you were ready for either one of those things. So instead, you stared at both of their equally perfect lips.

Full, slightly pouty pink lips that were somewhat chapped as they always were due to his quirk elements. Full, soft lips that you had felt pressed to your hands and cheeks for the past five days, and yet you craved it to be pressed against your lips, but that was undoubtedly dangerous.

But you continued to stare at Red’s lips, at White’s lips.

You liked seeing how their teeth exposed themselves when they smiled, or how he had barely formed dimples on his cheeks, the smile lines that had finally formed on his previously smooth face. You liked seeing the way he bit on his lower lip when he held his tongue, or how his tongue seductively swiped his lips when he caught you staring.

Wait—?!

You snapped out of your daze, staring at the suggestive, all too pleased look on White’s face as he leaned in close to you while Red was busy performing his daily workout routine.

“You want to fuck while Not-the-real-Shouto’s busy? He won’t know, I promise.”

You flush.

“No!”

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It was day six of split Shouto when you woke up.

Your eyes stinging with exhaustion as you stared up at the ceiling as bodies of ice and fire sandwiched you between them. They snored softly, breathes deep and full in perfect harmony as they slumbered. You hated Shouto. You hated him so much.

This could have been a fantastic experience in your fantasies. Cloning quirks were a thing, and often you would hear about the sexual endeavors many partook in while in the company of someone with such quirk. It seemed like so much fun. Someone existing solely to be fucked, replicated from someone you already trusted.

It seemed perfect.

But here you were. Living the life of many porn fantasies, but the clones — not clones — hated one another. You couldn’t even so much as breathe next to one of them for too long before the other came to rip you away, annoyed, and ready to reclaim you. They were behaving as if you didn’t already belong to them.

Maybe you could have handled the lack of horny, lusting out of your mind sex if they had simply allowed you to kiss them without starting a war. But they claimed they would rather die than see you kiss someone that wasn’t them (singular them).

So, you were struggling.

The internal struggle only grew when they woke up at the same time. Growing when they both exposed their scarred, perfectly muscled, and toned body. It grew when they pressed their sinful body against yours, and you could only look up at them with eyes like a full moon, heat wet in your panties. You wanted something to happen because watching them go at it again for the fifty-third time today suddenly made your mind snap.

Since they wouldn’t seem to quit fighting, you might as well be fucked while they fought amongst themselves. You were a big girl, you could handle two cocks around your body.

At the moment, you were in the communal kitchen living room area. You sat at the table, trying to enjoy your cup of tea while they stood a few strides away from you… arguing.

“Would you both put those mouths to better use than fighting with each other?!” you finally snapped, your hands tugging at the roots of your hair after you placed down your cup of tea. They had been fighting for the past hour as to whether or not Shouto’s first costume idea was created because of Red or because of White. 

Neither one of them claimed responsibility on that one funny enough.

They fell silent immediately. Both their eyes wide, brows furrowed, and jaws gaping like a fish as they tried to separate their conversation from what you just said.

“Better use?” Red stated, his blink slow.

A curling, devious smirk spread on White’s face, “Oh, did my love finally cave to being fucked?”

“I didn’t think you would be into cucking,” Red admitted, his own smirk growing on his face while White frowned and glared at him. “What? It’s obvious it would be you tied up, White. You can’t expect y/n to trust either one of us to sit there, so she’d tie us up. My fire would easily destroy the bonds.”

Ah yes, how could you forget that they’d adopted only one half of the one quirk Shouto possessed. Now while you definitely wouldn’t mind cucking both sides of Shouto at some point, that wasn’t what you were craving at the moment.

“Y/n loves ice trailing down her body, I can definitely satisfy her better!”

“Like I said a few days ago, I have the bigger cock, so shut up and watch us.”

They were going to drive you insane.

Standing up from the table, the chair screeching against the floor as you did so, their attention fell on you. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks, your heart fluttering in your chest as turquoise and grey eyes that you could read like nothing gorged into your form. 

You settled between them, feeling dwarfed between their taller, muscled forms. Red was in a white t-shirt and sweats, White in a black shirt and dark jeans. You were unsure as to why you felt so shaken when you pressed your fingers between the valley of their pecs, your tongue heavy in your mouth. You blamed it on the six-day dry-feast the idiots put you in, and the mere thought of finally getting your way was exhilarating. 

“This is what’s going to happen,” you say with no room for arguing, your gaze meeting theirs through your eyelashes. “We are all going to fuck. There’s three of us, and I’m the one who wants to be satisfied, so this will be a threesome. Fuck me any way you want, I don’t care, but whoever starts fighting first gets cucked.”

Red is staring at you with his piercing turquoise eyes, White’s gaze dropped to your tracing finger on his chest. But the consensus was the same.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A warm, fluttery smile breached your face, and you nodded.

“Good… now, fuck me.”

They begin almost immediately. Two initially contradicting forces of fire and ice abandoning their internal surge for power to appease and please you. There’s no stopping the shiver and the moan trapped in your throat when two identical sets of hands you knew and craved the touch of finally made contact with your body. Red’s hands were on your breasts, groping and massaging your mounds of flesh while his mouth pressed tantalizing kisses along the curve of your neck, along the length of your clavicle. 

White had dropped down, his mouth pressing hot, kisses against the flesh of your thighs and your ass. His fingers pushing the sleeping shorts you still wore, his calloused fingers brushing against your clit. 

You openly moaned, hands pressing against both White and Red for some form of support.

“You’re already so wet,” White groans his observation, his finger slicking itself against your wet folds. 

You shake, your head nodding in full understanding as you began to rotate your hips against his finger. Of course, you were so wet, you thought, goosebumps flashing against your entire body when Red pinched your nipples through your light tank. 

“You try living with two of me and be denied every physical need,” you gasped, your voice pitching the moment Red’s teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck the same time White’s finger curled within your walls. “Fuck…”

“It’s so cute when you whisper like that,” Red noted, his hands lifting your breast, tongue smoothing over your irritated skin. “I bet you didn’t mind our quirk accident because you wanted something like this.”

Now that was definitely something you couldn’t disagree about.

But with the way your body was so desperately deprived and how there were two sources of knowledge on you. Knowing the perfect sensations on your sensitive parts of your body, you pushed them away.

Grey and turquoise blazed into your skin, but you huffed, grabbing them by the hands and pulling on them.

“I want the bed,” you affirm, your cheeks feeling warm, your eyes keeping on theirs. “We’re fucking on the bed.”

“Of course, my love,” they responded together. And the heat in your body seemed to multiple when you pushed through into the room. 

Guiding them into the bedroom, you didn’t release their hands until they were sitting down onto the bed—Red on your right, white on your left.

Their stares are expectant, already clouded with horny, lustful need when you let go of their hands. Before they could ask what was next, you leaned in, opposite hands pressing to each of their crotches, and they both groaned lightly in their chest. You palmed them through their clothes, your cunt throbbing with the fact that you enjoyed watching their hooded, lusting expressions bore into your figure. Biting down onto your lower lip, you stopped a tethering moan from escaping when both their hands grabbed onto your ass.

They fondled the flesh as you continued to palm them, the cock buried within their clothes growing harder and larger with every quick movement of your hand. They both were so hot and dangerously heavy hidden away in the confines of the pants, and you wanted nothing more than to be choking and stuffed full of them both.

But you don’t get your way just yet.

“On the bed,” Red suddenly commands, and you stop a squeak from embarrassingly ripping from your throat. You stumble on the large bed, and both Red and White shift so that there’s enough room for you to be perched between them. Ass on Whites side, face on Red’s, and you feel your body freeze when everything picks up speed.

White’s lips are on the back of your thigh, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive skin while his fingers take up rubbing your cunt again. Your body trembles under his ministrations, hips shifting, and bucking against him as he once again buries his fingers into your blistering core.

But with the moans singing from your lips, you felt transcended. The way that your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each shift of White’s fingers proving that point, you focused in on Red, who had shoved your breasts over the hem of your shirt. You whimpered loudly when his fingers pinched at both nipples, tugging at the pebbled flesh. 

“Such pretty noises,” Red whispered, his nose brushing against yours, and you throbbed with the need to be kissed. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “Please give me more, more, please.”

Red inhaled sharply, his eyes blazing like blue fire before finally, he crashed his lips against yours, unable to hold back anymore, and you cried in glorious acceptance. You kissed Red back with everything you had. Your lips slick with your joining, mixing saliva while he continued to press bruising, heated kisses to your mouth. Your hands at one point had attached themselves onto his biceps, and you found your fingernails to be digging through his skin, but Red didn’t care.

He continued to play with your hanging, sore tits, his tongue entering the barricade of your mouth as he kissed you again, and again, and again.

His name spilling from your mouth until you froze, your back tightening the second something more was happening behind you.

White’s finger, covered in the slick of your essence, was probing through your ass all while he continued to finger fuck your cunt.

“Aw, you do like it when my finger goes into your ass!” White chirped, his finger pressing further past your tight rim, sending your mind into a flurry of thoughts and feelings at the sensation of being stretched out, while you collapsed onto the mattress. Red abandoned you. “Your ass always looks so fucking hot when it takes in my finger. It’s like it's sucking me back in whenever I try to pull out. So. Fucking. Hot.”

You could do nothing but choke out White’s name the second the finger curled in your ass and the fingers buried in your cunt came together to press between the thin wall separating the two cavities, and you keened at the feeling.

“White!” you yelled, your eyebrows furrowed in your pleasure, your hips bucking back against his hands. “More! I need more!”

It was at that moment his fingers abandoned your holes, but before you could cry at the loss, Red was back in front of you, naked as the day he was born. But his cock was hard, pressed against his stomach, standing tall and erect for you to suck.

“Come on, angel,” Red spoke, tilting your chin up so that he may press another sizzling kiss to your mouth. “Play with my cock.”

Still, on your knees, your back arched, mouth entirely occupied with Red’s mouth, your hand blindly grabbed his cock and began to jerk him off. You kissed him harshly, thoroughly, not wanting to let him go without exploring and feeling every little thing you could offer while you run your hand up and down his length.

You fully moaned into his mouth when his fingers lightly brushed against your neck, showing how sensitive you are. He runs his hand all the way down to your hips and latches onto your ass cheek. You mewl against him, wondering just why he was doing that when something hot and wet pressed against your cunt.

Breaking off the kiss immediately, you turned around to see White’s face buried into your ass, but his tongue was meeting your cunt with every languid lick.

“Shit!” you curse, your hips bucking and moving to better find White’s tongue against your core. But before you could find your spot, his tongue abandons your cunt and presses back against your tight, tight rim.

Trembling, your eyes roll to the back of your head, all while Red reclaims your lips.

Your hand encompassing his cock began to pick up in speed as White seemed to interchange between tongue fucking your ass and cunt. Whimpering needs only resonated from your mouth into Red’s as you jacked him off sloppily, messily at heightened speeds while you begged for more.

It didn’t take long before they both pulled away from you, and you in your heat daze, teared up as you watched both Red and White step onto the floor, their twin, identical cocks out, leaking with precum that called your name. You didn't need to be told what to do at this point as you stumbled out of bed, falling to your knees right between them.

With Red’s cock in your left hand, you pulled him into your mouth, your right hand expertly, yet blindly jerking White off. You pushed your head as far down as it could go along Red’s cock, your eyes trying to keep on his the entire time. 

Relishing in the fact that his cock went unchanged, your tongue swirled around Red’s cock, your head bobbing along his length, and Red smirked down at you, pressing the tears in your eyes away. Pulling away with a string of saliva connecting his head to your lip, you alternated onto White’s cock, your left hand continuing to jerk off Red.

White groaned at the sudden heat, immersing against his length, his hips snapping into your mouth as you took him all the way in. You had been dating Shouto for a few years now. You were definitely capable of taking him in your mouth in one go without trouble. But it just felt so different with one of your hands stroking off Red, and White’s hands grabbing your head while he thrust into you.

Before you could settle on White’s cock, you switched back to Red, who decided to command your every little instruction.

It quickly became a game between Red and White on who could make you choke and moan the loudest as they fucked your mouth and throat mercilessly. You, thankfully, were entirely enjoying it, your soaked pussy rubbing against your tight panties, and you rutted against the fabric trying to relive the building, fast pressure in your core. 

“Fuck,” White snarled when Red had you completely choked against his cock. His cock was shoved as far down your throat as it could manage, and he kept you there. Painful tears falling from your eyes while your throat struggled to remain relaxed despite the burning lack of oxygen. “Keep her there, Red. Don’t let her move.”

Red, who was only entranced by you for quite some time, looked up with amusement at his other half.

“What, you like this?” Red asked a taunt hidden in his voice but was buried under so much more throbbing lust. “You like seeing y/n choking against a cock?”

You whimpered against Red, your throat muscles fluttering and flaring along his length-- what was he planning?

“Who wouldn’t want to see y/n like this,” White breathed, and you shook at the nonverbal agreement that passed between the two of them.

You whined at the unknown, finally being released from Red’s cock, and you spluttered and coughed, drool and saliva drenching your chin while you turned towards White, ready to do the same. But you shrieked, the wind knocking out of you when they both picked you up from the floor and tossing you onto the mattress. You bounced when you landed. 

Both Red and White quickly moved to remove your clothes until you were naked as well, their eyes glimmering with their treaty, a million ideas undoubtedly pouring through their mind. 

White is on you first. He joins you onto the mattress, his lips pressing and languidly moving against yours, and you moan against him.

“We’re going to start fucking you now, baby,” White whispers against your mouth, his thumb running up against your still spit slicked chin. With just his finger alone, he moves you so that you’re on your hands and knees before him, waiting like an obedient pet. Your eyes flutter open, just barely opened so that you could meet his stormy grey eyes while his thumb slips over your bottom lip and into your mouth. “I hope you’re ready to be fucked… Red?” he called, his thumb pressing down on your tongue, instinctively flaring your gag reflex.

“Hm?” Red answered back, and you stilled when something hot and heavy smacked against your ass. 

Once, twice.

“Fuck her right.”

Silence.

You whimpered against White’s thumb, your eyes watering while you studied his determined, playful face. There's a chuckle from behind you, and you shiver at the fact that you could practically smell the knowing smirk on his face.

“Obviously.”

And then it happens.

Red slams his cock into your awaiting, wet pussy with a pleased groan while you lurched forward onto White at the mighty snap of Red’s hips. Naturally so, you screamed Red's name, your pussy singing in absolute love over the fact that he’s buried entirely within you, undoubtedly claiming you once again.

Before you could sing your praises for Red, White’s shut you up by replacing his thumb with his cock, and you’re forced silent.

When they worked against each other, they were annoying, irritating, and often horrifying, but together? Well, as Red’s cock shoved more profound and deeper into your womb, and White’s cock conquested your throat, you hummed with the pleasure they brought. Together they were powerful, commanding, and unbreakable, and if the sounds of your wet pussy and choking mouth were to prove it, it was more than just a fact. 

You struggled to keep up with Red’s slamming hips, the girth of his cock stretching you out in an all too familiar way, and White driving cock that choked you out every time you moved. You felt dizzy with the thumping, tingling pleasure, your hand that held onto White’s hips clutching his skin, while your other one manipulated and circled your clit.

You wanted to cum. You wanted to so badly.

“You sound so hot choking on his cock,” Red laughed, his hand coming down to spank your jiggling ass with a single, powerful thwack. You bristled at the sensation. “Do more, sweetheart, I know you can do more; we’ve experienced you doing more.”

You garbled as White smirked down at you, your eyes just barely open enough to see the knowing look in his eyes.

“Use that little slut mouth of yours better, baby,” White taunted, his hand coming to pat your hollowed cheeks roughly, quickly, in a few stinging slaps. 

This is what you liked, you realized as you pulled away from his length, mouth swallowing his balls with heightened eagerness, your hand rubbing his length as you did so. White moaned your name, his head dropping in his pleasure as you did so. 

It must have done something for Red, too, because his fingers dug into the skin on your waist, his powerful thrusts becoming quicker, shorter thrusts that moved you against his cock with rattling power and craving lust. You whimpered against White’s balls and cried out in pleasure-filled pain the moment Red spanked you again, and again, and again.

Your cunt was fluttering, squeezing, and beating in time to your heartbeat. The pleasure within you grew from a light warmth to a blazing heat. You cried for more, your knees and thighs shaking for more.

More friction, more fucking, more of Shouto.

“Turn around, you little cockslut,” White grinned, removing you from his balls. “It’s my turn to fuck your pretty little cunt.”

Whining, you did as you were told, your limbs feeling like lead as Red smoothed back the hair falling on to your face.

Before you were ready, not that you minded, their cocks reclaimed your holes.

It was different this time.

They fucked you differently, you realized when White enjoyed pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back into you. His strokes and powerful thrusts send the coil in your stomach to grow tighter and tighter. But Red, fuck, Red had his fingers in your mouth, choking you with them as he slapped your cheek with his cock, his precum mixed with your slick smearing all over your cheek as he did so. 

“I want to make sure that you realize that me putting my cock in your mouth is a blessing,” Red coldly smirked, his eyes blazing with a whole other story. But despite it all, you nodded your head quickly. Altogether agreeing with the claim that you needed to earn his cock in your mouth again. 

“I kno thath,” you whine against his fingers, saliva shamelessly dribbling past your lips, your mouth closing to suck on his fingers. “I promith I’ll apprethciate your giff.”

He could try all he wanted, but Red was whipped for you too.

His cock immediately replaced his fingers, slamming to the depths of your throat, all while the wet noises of your throat and choking voices joined the squelching of your cunt. Your eyes rolled in your pleasure, your cunt thrumming with energy as Red’s hands encircled your throat, choking you while he fucked straight down your throat.

“You looked so pretty earlier when you couldn’t breathe,” Red snarled, his cock twitching in your throat the same time White’s cock twitched in your cunt. “I’m just -- fuck do that again -- trying to get you there… faster… Your throat really feels like your fucking pussy at times, shit.”

You whimper at that comparison as you forcefully clench your throat and cunt around both of your boyfriend's cock. 

But you vibrate when White’s finger traces your rim, his finger not disappearing into your wrinkled muscle, but stimulating it well past teasing. You pull off Red’s cock with a spluttering cough, your eyes burning, but you find White’s gaze immediately. 

“What’s going on, sweetness?” White asked, his eyes glimmering with knowledge of what you want already, but the slick fucker just had to ask.

Too bad you weren’t ashamed of shit around him.

“I want you to fuck my ass,” you moan, your hips slamming back against White’s still shifting cock, your hand clenching one of your asscheeks as you split yourself open for White. “Please fuck my ass.”

“Fuck!” they both seemed to growl, and without so much as a break, White switches from your ass and buries his length slowly into your needy, tight ass.

The pitchy, unstoppable moan from your mouth sends both Red and White into whimpering messes as you collapse onto the mattress, your chest heaving with your heightened stimulus. It was starting to hurt, your lack of orgasm, you just needed a bit more done to cum, and you wanted to.

“Where’s my dick?” White finally growls at you as he bottoms out entirely within you. You tremble at the question, body shaking with every stroke of his cock he makes afterward. “Where is it?”

“I-In my ass!” you wail, your ass clenching around him, trying to make him feel this heated pleasure as strongly as you were. “It’s in m-my ass!”

“Do you love my cock in your ass?” White snarls, his hands gripping your waist and slamming you back onto him, your ass squeezing with the sensation. You can’t speak; your mind is overloaded with feeling and emotion. “Why do I even bother? I know you love my cock in your ass.”

Red comes back into the equation, his hands grabbing your jaw and pressing your mouth against his into a searing kiss. You can hardly kiss him back, your mouth pathetically hanging open as he kisses your teeth, mouth, tongue. So, it shouldn’t shock you that in your near blissful blackout, Red hands your limp arms to White, who holds onto them.

His grasp and hold on your arms elevates you slightly off the bed, your back arched, and breasts exposed as he begins to jackhammer into your ass. You want to scream, you want to shudder and cry your sensations to the world, but Red interrupts once more by pressing his swollen, purpling head into your mouth, silencing you with gags and chokes while they both use you.

They both drive into you with ferocity and power, your body nearly limp and twitching with your ever still denied orgasm that refuses to back down, and the way the lack of oxygen makes you spin as Red’s balls clash against your throat in quick, succinct, patterns.

“Sit down, White,” Red snaps at White, and White, who was ever so entranced at how your ass was swallowing his cock, dumbly nods. “Y/n is about to cum, we need to make sure she cums correctly.”

You whine against Red’s cock, unsure if you heard him correctly when White drops your arms. But instead of falling forward as you thought you would, his relaxed arms wrapped around your waist tightly, bringing you down with him.

Your back was pressed against his chiseled chest. And you moaned at the sensation this angle brought in terms of depth and stretch. Your mouth, freed from Red’s cock, opened in a loud, scratchy moan, undoubtedly raspy from the abuse it went through from the vigorous face fucking.

“R-Red!” you cried, your legs shaking when White hooked his arms under your knees and spreading them out, exposing your wet, slick core to Red, who was merely watching. You shifted pathetically, wanting to have both of them on you, not just one. “Red, please!”

But, White’s hips began to thrust upward, resuming his fucking of your asshole, and you howled in pleasure as he breathed heavily, gasping in your right ear. But as your legs trembled, unsure if White would be able to keep your legs in such position, Red pressed on top of you, his weight keeping your legs spread, and his cock quickly slamming within your cunt.

You had one hand buried in White’s hair, the other slipping behind Red’s back when he pressed onto you. The second their cocks rubbed against each other through the oh so thin wall between your ass and your cunt, you screeched. The hand in White’s hair tugging at his roots harshly, and the hand on Red’s back drawing bloody mountains on his skin.

But this didn’t stop them, the slight pain you gave them doing nothing but making them growl in your ear, making your eyes cross in your oblivion while they continued to fuck you.

Sandwiched between them, your breasts crushed by Red’s chest, and your back buried into White’s chest, White let go of one of your legs that immediately latched around Red’s waist. Your eyes crossed, rolling to the back of your head, your mouth agape, but no noise coming out as every massive, hard thrust sent your soul into a new dimension. White’s hand sneaking between Red’s drilling hips and your cunt to pinch and pull at your clit as you shook like a leaf in a windstorm. You came without realizing it, your walls clenching like a vice against Red’s cock, and your ass clenching around White’s in tandem to your orgasm. Both of them moaning against your salty sweat skin, but neither one of them stopped.

Faster and faster, they thrust into you, gaining such speed and power that you felt akin to a ragdoll as they fucked you. They praised you for taking them both at the same time, senseless names, and wordless praise as you took them without a single wince of pain. You were theirs, they claimed, and they were yours. 

The sounds of their cock drilling into the wet caverns of your cunt and ass, the sticking shivering sound of their balls smacking your ass and cunt.

It was so much, growing to be more and more, until your orgasm was once again growing as you attempted to shift your weak, still trembling hips up and down their length, wanton gasps shrill on your tongue. Your body begging for more.

“Gonna cum,” they whispered together, his deep, raspy voice filling both of your ears, and you wailed as your own orgasm tipped once again.

“Cum in me, please cum in me!” you begged with everything you had.

And with your pleading heavy in the air, they came with you. You moaned at the feeling of the hot, sticky thick ropes of cum filling up both your holes, the cocks spasming uncontrollably within you as their hips continued to ride out their orgasms. Your chest heaves as their snapping hips become rolling thrusts until finally, they stop.

All three of you still joined, all three of you sweaty and tired.

When you pass out, you can barely hear them saying goodbye.

…

…

You wake up, your body sore and bruised around midnight.

You groan, stretching out your neck as you realize that there is no body on top of you or beneath you as that was definitely how you all had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Panic filled you when the bed was empty, and you rushed to your feet, cursing when your knees buckled out from under your weight.

Crashing to the floor, you groaned as you lay there.

“What are you doing on the floor?” an all too familiar voice asked you, and you looked up to see if it was Red or White.

You blinked when instead the once two distinctive heads blurred into one, and you stared at your finally normal boyfriend.

“S-Shouto!” you cried, your body weakly pressing off the floor, your arms stretching to you.

Shouto smiled warmly, softly, the perfect in-between of the facial expressions Red and White would give you.

“I’m back, sorry for scaring you like that,” he whispered as he joined you on the floor, letting your arms wrap him into a firm hug, not wanting to let go as you pathetically began to cry.

The two of you lay naked together on the floor, his soft apologies gathering in your ear as you held him tightly, having missed him entirely.

“Do you remember?” you eventually asked long after Shouto managed to bring you back into the bed. You lay curled into his side, your fingers tracing the marks on his body that you had left on both Red and White. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes… and I remember how it all felt too.”

“Ew… perv…”

“Try that again? Ms. ‘I-want-your-cock-in-my-ass’.”

“SHOUTO!”