#like. we were homeless for a second and i was processing the fact i was trafficked when i was younger and its all been super heavy

[mamadoowop]

not to be dramatic but life in the world to come has demonstrably made my life better and made a very difficult part of my trauma recovery bearable and I'm endlessly thankful for its existence

[currentfandomkick]

Prompt:

Desiree overhears bruce wish for a do-over with his robins.

Said robins end up aged down and only with those memories of when they first were acknowledged as Robin by Bruce. Anything after? Gone.

Now Dick is 8 ready to destroy these people stealing his mom’s nickname for him. Yes he is deranged and feral. Yes he is assaulting Damian the most, as the kid also attacks him. He’s also certain Damian is mew to the states too and annoyed he cant understand the kid.

Jason is 12 and dealing with a Lot of homeless kid truama and whiplash of rich place and who are these other kids and why is the tiniest one trying to kill the second tiniest? Stop that! (Jason, the most responsible somehow) Damian listens to him best without the use of orders. (Only way to get Damian to listen otherwise) and is working on teaching Damian about how the states and Gotham work. Jason is the Great Culture Teacher, and hoarding food stashes and go bags everywhere. Just in case. Yes he has some for everyone and is only a little upset his peer Tim vanished before he could give him his.

Tim is 12 too, realized Batman had Jason Right There and fucked off back home to see what happened timeline wise. He decided to visit his apparent step-mom, Dana, and gets to meet his apparent(?) boyfriends (deal’s choice, just have there be two for Tim’s confusion as ‘i pulled not one but two hot boys? How?) reasons. Tim is Learning what he did in the last 6 years and is questioning how his older self stopped with a semi-regular sleep schedule and.. had no spleen? Dana, can we get that checked for me that mine’s still there and if i keep it? Yay. Oh, this should last a few months? Okay! He can work from home online and have Lucius handle the meetings—why was he made a teen CEO again?

Stephanie? Is the oldest at 15, and is baffled by the whole situation. She goes to see Oracle and handles patrols under Babs’ eye with a confused Cass. Yes Stephanie is mad at Tim and believes he was cheating on her at this time, but knows the Tim she saw was smaller. And this is in the future from her POV. She’s still mad. Also the least likely to cause problems on patrol atm as she’s already trained and threatened to break out Spoiler if he tries to stop her. Her favorites and Damian (he gets killing should be an option, but needs to work on his selection process) and Jason, who Gets being a poor kid. Dick stops attacking her on sight but is a savage and insults her form. He ranks below Tim due to proximity, and the fact this is a Tim before they dated.

Damian? Back maybe 2 years, to the mindset of ‘if i dont kill my predecessor, i am unworthy of my role by Father’s side.’ Problem: he and Dick are fighting (both initiate) and Alfred and Jason (when did his zombie guard get so small?) are the only ones able to separate them successfully. He is not allowed on Patrol, but Brown is as she’s able to run solo otherwise and Father has recruited her using Robin. Father has explicitly forbade attacking her in the manor, cave or otherwise on property, and forbid killing. Brown is the only one besides him questioning this, even if it’s mostly over comms… and he is absolutely working on learning magic to undo this spell and return to his rightful place damnit!

Bruce has Many Regrets about that wish. And hates magic

Meanwhile Danny is trying to work out which wishes of Desiree’s are safe to undo, as apparently her last spree included taking out Joker, who was well overdue for that, and helping a lot of families reunite. He’s not undoing that. But also she did help gorilla grodd take over a city. He. He’s gonna need help, isn’t he?

[yentling]

Two episodes into the vampire show. Notes:

- first ep: Southern gothic tropes reimagined in terms of black wealth which is fascinating esp bc of similarities between Louis’s family and the central characters of The Sound and the Fury. I especially need to think more about the role of Paul as a mentally ill character here.

- Jacob Anderson is acting his entire ass off in this show

- I assumed as much but Eric Bogosian really is doing his best Anthony Bourdain impression here

- second episode: was trying to verbalize this coherently with my gf yesterday but basically there’s this really interesting theme of like ethical consumption here where we have Lestat who is obviously predatory and will eat basically indiscriminately as long as it feels logical to him (and his logic is twisted). This does not feel human to Louis whom we now see enjoying this total gluttony of presumably “ethically sourced” blood but it very clearly is like…entrenched in processes that are probably not very ethical. And we can work this into these tropes of the “vegetarian vampire” and our attitudes toward animal consumption to begin with where like most of us don’t want to kill another human being because that’s too cruel and hunting an animal is too much for most people BUT going to the grocery store for our meat and veg is often time contributing to far more cruelty toward both animals and humans.

- And then conversely to criticize Lestat too like hunting is often times put into the context of sport right like big "game" (so called because of the use of hunting as a sport) hunting was never really about survival right? Like even aside from whether they were using the animal remains or not, the effect is not to survive the beast but to assert domination over these colonized areas and their people. While native people often featured as helpful characters in big game memoirs they were usually also depicted as foolish, cowardly, or even untrustworthy when compared to the hypermasculine white hunter. And I think we really see this in Lestat’s approach toward feeding, and it’s maybe part of why Louis feels uncomfortable not only as someone who still feels connected to humanity, but as a Creole black man.

- Lestat is sooo fascinating in this rendition and I’m still trying to refine my understanding of him because there’s clearly so much he is like right about in terms of race relations in the US but he’s also specifically a white predator, right? Like we can say that Lestat is “in love with Louis’s humanity” which is probably true but there’s an area here where some of this complexity is coming from Louis’s racial identity, which makes him vulnerable in multiple ways. Which isn’t so unusual in real life white “allies” obviously but raises interesting questions in the context of vampirism.

- as usual vampirism here is such a fascinating analogy for capitalism and imperialism. The fact that the first victim we know about (as in we have met the character) in a sex worker. Like intentional or not I think vampires make us question who is bearing the brunt of this widespread exploitation? And you can see this as a direct metaphor for the bourgeoisie sucking the life force out the proletariat or you can move away from that and just think about, like…the reason serial killer victims are usually homeless people, sex workers, and others who are seen as, you know, unwanted by society is because they exist in a sort of underclass maintained and reenforced by capitalist structures.

[sobasluuurp]

Hawks' reaction to seeing Twice again is so fascinatingly tragic. Because it shows just how deep the Hero Commission has their claws in his brain.

We know from his interactions with Nagant that he's got the heart of an idealist.  That he still has hope for a better future and sees the best in his disgraced and villainized predecessor.

He even uses the phrase "optimist to a fault" to describe himself. Which is such a strange thing for one of the most morally grey heroes in the series to say. So what does he mean by this and what can it tell us about his character, his circumstances, and human nature?

Like Nagant, Hawks was scooped up by the HC at a young age with promises of heroism and grandeur. Like Nagant, he was subjected to intense training and forced into the role of an assassin for the rest of his childhood with likely little to no contact to the outside world, which might've made him question the HC.

The HC saved Hawks. Saved him from a life of abuse, neglect, and homelessness. So he took his lessons in stride and played his role well. By the time he realized what was up, he was in far too deep to back out and he knew it. But he also knew that he and his mother were in an undeniably better place than they were before the HC stepped in. Knew that because of them, he had the opportunity to save scared little kids, just like Endeavor did for him.

(This is very different from Nagant, who looks to have been feared for her quirk as a child. In the scene when the HC picks her up, she has bandages on her arm as if to keep her quirk from activating. At the time, she probably saw the HC as a savior from her life as nothing more than her quirk -- only to find later that by following that's exactly the life she was binding herself to. Which explains why she defected and he didn't.)

So to Hawks, the HC is a sick but ultimately good force in society. Because he believes in heroes above all else. Endeavor, his savior, was a hero. His father, his abuser, was a villain. Even knowing now that both Endeavor and the HC are tainted, the lessons that idealizing both of them taught him remain.

Even when his heart is telling him to go a separate route. Even when he wishes he could save Twice, he leads first with a violent attack and then with a promise of rehabilitation. And in the end, he kills him anyway. Even now, confronted with the fact that killing a person he didn't want to kill didn't actually solve anything, he yells, "Kill them!! NOW!!" without second thought.

Hawks clings blindly to the sermons of his youth like a drowning man clinging to a branch. It didn't work the last time -- but it worked for a while! It meant no Sad Man's Parade in the first war! That's good, right? And these people who he wants to kill are bad. All For One even said so himself! No matter that he can't articulate what exactly "good" and "bad" are. The answer is just as obvious now as it was back when he was a kid! Any other nuance is just AFO trying to manipulate him.

So he sticks to what he's always known. Because it's the only way he's been taught to handle problem solving of this magnitude. Because this is the only way things have ever been, dammit. If things change now -- if the world didn't have to be this way -- then how could his idealist heart ever cope with the lives he's taken? How could he live with himself knowing he could've saved more lives and created a brighter future than the one he's currently living?

I hope that after the war Hawks is able to process his emotions, his past, and his actions. That he's able to move past it and endeavor to create a society where kids aren't taught to kill and problems are solve proactively with compassion first instead of feathers.

[distilled-prose]

You're forgetting the misconception about Democrats. Not all Democrats are "Leftists". Not all Democrats are against guns. That said; there is a slight difference in a semi-automatic rifle and an AR-15. Yes, I know the AR doesn't stand for "Assault Rifle". The difference is in the looks of a rifle and the use of the rifle. As many has said, I can use my AR-15 to hunt. Yes, you can but, why would you want to use that to hunt deer? I've got a 308 semi to hunt deer but I use my AR-15 to hunt coyotes and pigs. The purpose is to annihilate a species that is invading a territory and causing harm to the environment. Oh! There ya go! A mentally deranged person would do that at a school or a mall with an AR-15 because.....they're fucking deranged and they don't deserve to own that weapon because they have a history of mental problems and they had a friend buy that gun for them or they lied about they're history or whatever. Special permit to own that gun and extended background checks paid for by the the person buying the gun and, red flag laws upheld by Law Enforcement. Period.

Dear Anonymous, Like the question I recently just answered, a couple of things: Thank you for being polite. I wish I knew what prompted the comment/question. That said, you know the second amendment wasn't enacted to protect hunters rights, correct? And just for the record, I am not a hunter. I found early in my life I did not like killing things. But I enjoy target shooting. And I enjoy a variety of weapons in that endeavor. I also know from personal experience that not all democrats are anti-gun. I had a meeting with my attorney several years ago about my wife's and my will. He was a state representative (Democrat) who was wanting to run for a recently vacated senate seat. The discussion turned to that nomination process. He said his position on guns would be a big stumbling block for him in getting the Democratic party's support. (We lived in a rural community.) He did ultimately get the support and won the senate seat. But by his own acknowledgement, the Democratic party did not like it.

My son was a sheriff's deputy for 10 years, and he would quote statistics to me all the time. The majority of mass shootings are committed with hand guns, not long guns, and certainly not by AR style long guns. You are more likely to get killed by a driver misusing a cell phone while driving than to die in a mass shooting. In fact, (I think I am remembering this correctly) a person is more likely to die by a teenager misusing a cellphone while driving than to die in a mass shooting. He also pointed out that Great Britain has a similar number of violent deaths per capita as we do (excluding deaths in this country due to self defense). But in England it's with knives. And now you need a permit to buy almost any kind of knife in England. And look up the statistics of people having acid thrown on them in England. It's crazy. Lastly, I am the second oldest person I know of on Tumblr. As a grade schooler I would hear my parents, their friends, their neighbors, talk about the horrors surrounding and leading up to WWII. Not just the German persecution of Jews, but the Stalinist purges, the atrocities committed by various governments against their own people. Our neighborhood back then had a number of families supporting displaced persons. One neighbor in particular used to tell my grandmother whenever he saw the Texaco big red star it absolutely infuriated him. He just wanted to climb up the pole and tear it down. He lost his whole family in Russia. They were defenseless in one of the purges. Your conclusion regarding the mental heath crisis in this country I believe is correct. Not only the crazy mass shootings, but the homelessness problem, the out of control drug use, etc. all point to a lack of support for people who are struggling. I would offer, however, that your proposed solution will not correct the problem, merely shift it (as in England). Solving the problem at its core is essential. Thank you for the comment.

[telesilla]

A long time ago, younglings, in a galaxy that’s um…right here actually, the only way to see a movie was in the theater or maybe if it was old enough and popular enough (like Wizard of Oz) on tv once a year. And so if a movie was popular, it would have a second theater run about a year after the first and sometimes, if it was super popular, there might be a third run.

In May of 1977, I lived in Tehran, where Star Wars did in fact, air in a couple of theaters. I actually babysat for a couple as they went to see it, but sadly for them, it was dubbed, not subbed. Big disappointment because Dad and I really wanted to see it. Then there was a whole ass revolution, and we left Iran in late 1978. There was a 5 month period of deliberate homelessness that involved couch surfing with relatives and camping before we finally settled back in our house in Santa Barbara, just in time for Star Wars to make its 1979 return to the theaters. By this time, I pretty much knew the whole story; my younger cousin was a fan and so I’d played with him and his many Star Wars toys, but still had never seen the movie. The thing was my little sister wanted to see it too, but she was only 8 and my folks were worried about how it might be too violent for her.

So I first saw Star Wars at the age of 16 (almost) with my dad at the early matinee on a Saturday morning in a theater full of screaming hyped up 10 year olds in 1979. My second time seeing it was about 6 hours later at the early evening show. I went to see it at least six or seven times that June before it left the theaters. It was a process, I had to change buses and everything. The idea that as an adult I’d be able to just sit here in bed and watch it on a small screen I can carry in one hand didn’t really occur to me, but hey, here we are.

Happy Star Wars Day! May the Force be with you!

[capturingmyexperience]

Honesty hidden behind a screen

isn't it great that you can post on the web being vulnerable but be completely unknown to the readers etc ive been wanting to find that space were I can completely let my thoughts out without people known who I am.

I feel like a fraud saying I'm neurodivergent as I'm not officially diagnosed by professionals yet so I can't confidently say yes. but the other side of me is like I know myself better than anyone and I don't need a professional to tell me lol. its why I paid private for both my children so they can grow and fully understand themselves and how we process the world.

so one thing I struggle with is working full time and being parent at the same time it took me years of finding excuses ,on cutting my hrs at work, but now I face facts and openly say I struggle working full-time and its not just because I have kids, its hard managing yourself and being here for youre kids so my kids come first and I will be there every wakening second to help them regulate to give them a safe space and so on.

but that comes with the burden of finical loss. we are know faced with yet again having to look for a new home as the landlord is selling, this is not an ideal situation and I know I cannot face another private rental and uncertainty. So plan b is council house, which is on its knees but we don't have any other choice at this moment in time other than go homeless to have security from the upheaval. Another blow of how I'm failing in the world in some peoples eyes, well you should work work work buying a house is priority, no being here for my kids is priority but the way I do things isn't the normal in society. Anyway no reason in this post really other than getting it out of my brain and into space somewhere lol. staying positive is key in hard times even tho youre crying inside.

and I know my posts are long and I struggle to read others longs posts lol but hey ho.

[yourneighborhoodneighbor]

black cat and his kittens ch10

(masterpost to my fics while ao3 is down) AO3

fic under the cut

previous chapter

The rest of their morning with class 1A had gone decently well. The class had had the decency to mostly hold off on too insensitive questions and had quickly left the whole quirks thing alone, though the copycat guy retained a slight pout at not having guessed a single one. They´d, barr Izu, then played hide and seek, and then a couple rounds of sardine because Shouto liked that one. Pizza had been baked from scratch (and wasn´t it funny as fuck to see everyone´s faces upon realizing Katsuki was a great cook?) and then Katsuki and his family had left for an afternoon nap. Sunday afternoons were for sleeping and homework, after all.

It was now the next friday and Katsuki was taking his shift at the cafe with Masaru, a nice quirkless man who legally only worked at their cafe, and illegally made gear, uniforms and support items for vigilantes, which was how they'd met in the first place. The man was nice and at this point a close and trusted friend of the family, him having been homeless and barely getting by with his gear for vigilantes when dad had first met him, which was how he'd ended up working at the cafe and living a couple blocks over.

“Say, Masaru, what do you think of us apparently going to hang out with the UA class every weekend now?” Katsuki asked the man as he added cut up chunks of cold butter to the dry ingredientes of his soon-to-be-dough for almond cookies.

The serene man looked up from where he was making a hot chocolate for a customer and hummed.

“Well, what is the reason you're going to be hanging out with them?” he threw back after some deliberation. He knew Katsuki wasn't just asking for his opinion, he had some problem he needed help resolving.

Katsuki squeezed the forming dough between his fingers, seemingly making a mess, before regrouping the whole thing and doing it again.

“Dad… the other day, when Izu got hurt” a hard squeeze at the dough “we went to UA right? And some of the others, the hero course kids, they saw dad. So apparently Chizome texted him, and Nedzu, because nothing happens at the school without the overlord knowing, and asked what the fuck they'd do now.”

He stopped for a second, continuing with his squeeze-regroup process while Masaru called the hot chocolate to be picked up. Masaru came back and nodded at the teenager to continue.

“Apparently, that was the first time in seven fucking years first years have seen any of the `UA vigilantes´, so there wasn't a fucking protocol on how to proceed, not to mention the fact that we were there. I mean, did they tell the students? Ignore the situation entirely? Move dad´s class to first year instead of third? All kinds of fucking hazards and shit, so they had to think about it. And Nedzu, he says `Oh Shouta, why don't your children befriend the students?´” for this part he put on a high pitched voice, making Masau smile slightly.

“Like that's some fucking idea, and of course dad says yes, after thinking about it, mind you, man´s not an idiot, because outside of Eijiro -shut up, not talking about that- we don't really have any friends our age, because...” he gestured vaguely and paused his ranting, turning to get wax paper and make four packets of the dough, putting them in the fridge to rest.

He turned back around and sighed, resting against the counter, arms crossed.

“I´m not saying they are bad, or that it's a bad idea right off the bat, it's just…” he tilted his head, hesitating.

“You're worried they will be like others and hurt you and your brothers?” Masaru gently offered after it seemed like Katsuki wouldn't say anymore.

The teen in front of him furrowed his brow, clenching his fists, before turning around and getting a rag and some spray to clean the counter.

“Any of us could beat any of them, heck, all of them, in a fight,” he wiped particularly hard at a specific spot, going silent again.

“But it's not physical harm that you're really afraid of, is it” the adult nudged on again.

“I just- there's this guy, Tensei´s little brother? I'm not sure he wouldn't… do something. I don't like the way he looks at us. And the class respects him,” the class follows him, goes unsaid, if he were to turn against us, would they?, “and Izu is pretty nervous, and while none of them sideyed him or Toshi yet, who's to say they won't? And I know people tend to be intimidated by me, heck, half of it is on purpose, but that's just more reason to attack, you know. Could even call it self defense or something.”

“And I don't want that! I can't let any of them get hurt! Izuku is already so nervous, and I won't let anything happen to them! I won't!” His last exclamation was punctuated by a fist hitting his own head and then pulling on his hair.

Masaru acted immediately, approaching Katsuki with his hands up in a placating manner and softly but firmly taking both of his wrists in his hands, and away from further harm to himself. Once he'd gotten both the teen´s hands down by his sides, he gave a gentle squeeze as an indication to keep them there, then let go, stopping the short contact that had been agreed upon before for situations like this one. He took half a step back to give the other space but still be close by, and slowly opened his arms, in invitation, this time.

After only some brief deliberation, the red-eyed teen accepted and walked into the hug, shaking and breathing heavily.

“Who do you want me to call?” Masaru whispered after a while. He was grateful, once again, that the usual patrons of the cafe knew that sometimes, even during open hours, service was not offered. And those who didn't know quickly learned. So he wasn't worried about attending to anyone other than Katsuki right now.

“Up” was the only word said teen managed to get out. Masaru nodded, walking the blond upstairs, to his home and the rest of his family.

_________________________________________________

It had taken a while for Tenko to calm his younger brother down, but after much cuddling, running his fingers through blond hair and a conversation to help settle the younger teen, it had been managed.

Tenko had brought it up with dad after he had come back from his friday class with the UA third years, leaving Katsuki with Izuku to cuddle on the couch, while Shouto and Hitoshi were still out for their turn at their weekly therapy, the the other older siblings accompanying them (and also, Shouta suspected, taking the opportunity to buy ice cream for everyone while unsupervised).

He had gone back out to get all he needed to make spicy ramen for dinner, something he knew Katsuki really liked, and had just finished cooking when the rest of his children had come back, waking the two sleeping teens on the couch with their loud talking and laughter. Now, they were all seated around the table, talking about how the day had been. Shouta waited for a lull in the conversation to talk about going back to UA the next day.

In the end, after some talking about worries and making plans in case anything happened (and lots of cat-pile cuddles, because none of his children had any restraint-), his younger children were appeased enough to go to sleep more calm than they had been before, ready to face the next day and whatever the class 1-A could throw at them.

_________________________________________________

TBC

[scatcrccio]

AS MUCH AS TAI INSISTED THAT NAT NEVER TOOK THINGS SERIOUSLY, this had been her menial attempt at trying. Which, had also correlated in her overall reasoning for leaning in on the kiss in the first place. Contradicting as it was, she'd done so knowing that the woman was craving some form of distraction in order to dodge whatever inevitable admittance she didn't really want to divulge. In that sense, she did know Tai too much at times and yet, apparently not so much as it turned out. So, why Tai was practically glaring at her now only proved perplexing to Natalie overall, but it went without saying. After all, it wasn't often most people showed up at her motel room just wanting to actually talk (unless they were Misty fucking Quigley). A minor case of whiplash that she'd sooner rather avoid if possible. Still, she takes the other's mumbled words personally, letting the amber liquid rest upon tongue for a moment too long before swallowing and letting the burn slither down her throat. Enjoying every last second of it. She almost speaks to the initial statement, but then stops herself when Taissa continues, letting the conversation get serious again on the primary subject matter once more. Glass in hand lowering momentarily, now gripped in both hands in front of her as she leans herself against the counter. Of course, Tai brings up Shauna's name and Nat isn't even the least bit surprised; those two were like peas in a pod, always had been. Not that she was jealous - maybe a little bit - in all honesty, she expected that response either way. ❝ Well, yeah… ❞ naturally assuming talking to a professional sleep specialist about it was out of the question at this point given Tai's public appearance and she resists the subtle urge to mention that the woman had put herself in that position. They had all agreed to keep themselves on the down low since being rescued and yet, Tai chose the spotlight regardless. There was a lot that could've been said; a lot of backlash playing at the tip of her tongue but she knows too that that's not what Tai wanted to hear. Not from Natalie of all people, or, maybe it was. Maybe that was exactly why she was here in the first place, to come to the one person who wouldn't bullshit or sugarcoat the obvious spectrum. ❝ Look, ❞ she sets the glass back down upon the counter with a heavy sigh, running fingers through already messy hair, ❝ you're already giving the media a want for more information by making yourself a public figure. They already know who you are, to an extent and they're not going to just stop because you keep denying them that information. I get it though, I do, this is something you've wanted for a long time and why let the past stop you from doing that? Fact of the matter is, they'll never stop trying, especially now. At this point though, that's the least of your worries. If your biggest fear is that you'll actually hurt someone without knowing then that needs to be our primary focus, right? So… ❞

she's mostly thinking out loud at this point, ❝ Simone's out of the house, for her own safety, that's a good thing until we can figure this all out. Maybe… I don't know, just, hear me out: what if I stayed with you for a few nights? Kept an eye on you, I don't sleep much these days anyway. ❞ Failing to mention that she isn't afraid of getting hurt in the process should that be the outcome because in truth, she feels the most dispensable out of anyone else. ❝ It'll look like your wife moved out to make room for an old colleague who's become homeless and desperate, doesn't want your kid around an old drug addict, it'd make some sense to that degree. Makes you look somewhat good in the process for helping out a struggling friend. Hell, you could even fake offer me a job if that helps. Either way, I'll be able to keep some tabs on you. ❞

watching natalie get up and walk away made her fume way more than it should have. the other woman knew her too much. she knew that she wouldn't have let her get away with changing the subject. taissa bites her tongue, narrowing her eyes with a small scowl. she should be impressed with how smooth that was, but instead she's annoyed. at least she knows that she'll get a drink out of this. "you can't take anything seriously." it's mumbled under her breath, but she made sure it was loud enough for the other woman to hear. "for once in your life, natalie...."

but she still takes the drink when offered, deciding that maybe after all of this....the kiss...being more vulnerable than she normally was...she needed it. or more so needed something to focus her attention on that wasn't this. in a way, she'd so much rather lock lips with her again than talk about her feelings, which really puts a spotlight to where taissa's priorities were. or even, how much she was willing to push down and not talk about. but she talks about it anyway because what else would she do?

" -- just shauna." she remarks. who else would she have told? van and lottie were nowhere to be seen. she'd been avoiding misty's calls for months at this point, there was no way that anyone else would even get the severity of the situation. "it's not something that i can exactly broadcast to the world." she brings the drink up to her mouth, taking a sip before continuing. "can you imagine the headlines? like i would want to give them more material." taissa scoffs, glancing towards natalie with a real look of vulnerability for once. "not that i would ever admit it normally, but i'm afraid. what if i hurt someone, nat? knowing the past, that is not a hypothetical. i could do it and never know."

[hollandorks]

domesticity--motn oneshot

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

a/n: time for another motn oneshot! This is set after chapter 31 but before the epilogue. It’s also set after the “partners” oneshot (but you don’t need to read that to understand this one!) This is just pure, unadulterated fluff. Get your toothbrushes ready, it’s going to give you cavities. 

If you feel like supporting me further, here’s some info on ko-fi perks! 

The song I listened to when writing this chapter is The Lament of Eustace Scrubb by The Oh Hellos (mostly for the overall vibes!) 

Series Masterlist

word count: 3300

It was the middle of the night in early December. 

Y/n was wide awake, curled in front of a roaring fire in the living room with a new book, waiting for Bruce to get home from his nightly patrol. 

It was still early, not quite two AM, still hours from Bruce being back. Even with the freezing rain outside, he still patrolled every night. He was adamant that winter was worse–longer nights made for more crime while the cold and snow made for more desperate people, hoping not to starve or freeze. 

Y/n was working on her own way to help–her budding restaurant, still as yet unnamed, a way to pay it forward and have a small homeless shelter all at once. She was going to feed, clothe, and house people as much as she could. In fact, she had just found the perfect building–two buildings next to each other, actually–in the heart of Gotham. She couldn’t wait for Bruce to get home so she could show him the listing. The place was a bargain, actually, long abandoned and rotting. But the less they spent on purchasing it, the more they could spend making it perfect. 

There was a loud clang from the general vicinity of the basement. 

Y/n frowned. It was too early for Bruce to be back yet. 

Unless something had happened. 

She tried not to panic as she set her book aside and hurried in the direction of their bedroom. 

She ran smack into Bruce, who was stepping into the hallway from downstairs. The cowl was off, the tips of his hair wet and turning to ice, drops of ice covering the armor he was still wearing. 

She immediately looked him over head to toe, worried he would be bleeding out. 

“Bruce?” she asked carefully. He usually stayed out until at least four, but sometimes six or seven if it was a busy night. Two AM was too early. Much too early. 

A shudder went through him at his name. His eyes met hers but they were distant. Cold. He was still in Batman mode. But usually he didn’t come upstairs in the armor. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked, hands already on him, fingers searching the places between armor plates for blood or bullet holes. 

He shook his head. “Not–not bad,” he amended after a second. “Might have cracked a rib.” 

“Not bad?” she said. “A cracked rib is not great.” She would know. Her ribs had been broken at the gala, and she was just now getting to where it didn’t hurt to stretch in certain ways. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He was covered in ice, melting quickly now, and mud. She wanted to ask what happened, but knew he needed time to switch back into Bruce. He’d gently explained it to her, a couple of weeks after their first date, that he wanted to share things with her but that he needed a little time when he first got back. He said it was like shedding a skin every night. He took off the armor and wrote out his thoughts while reviewing the footage from the night. He needed to process everything, to let himself think, to let Bruce Wayne resurface slowly. 

Bruce let her lead him into their bathroom. She gently helped him remove the armor, promising in a murmur to clean it later, while she let the bathtub fill with hot water. 

There was something almost haunted in his expression. Something bad had definitely happened. She swallowed hard. Her heart broke for him. 

She slipped his shirt over his head. There was a chill coming off of his skin, icy water dripping from his hair into his eyes and over his bare shoulders. 

His left side was already turning purple. “We should have someone look at this,” she said softly. She went to unbutton his pants but he caught her wrists in his freezing fingers. 

She stared up at him, at that terrible look in his eyes. She grabbed his wrists in turn so they were holding on to each other. “What do you need?” she asked. 

“Just–stay,” he whispered. His eyes closed and he lowered his head until their foreheads touched. “Just stay with me.” His voice was broken. He was hurting. 

“Always.” She lifted one of his hands and kissed the bruised knuckles. “You’re freezing.” 

He shivered as if her words made him finally realize it. He quickly shucked off his pants and got into the tub, shuddering heavily at the hot water. 

“Too hot?” she asked as she knelt beside him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. She pushed her sleeves up and lightly touched his shoulder, just to reassure him that she was there, that she was with him. 

Y/n reached over and shut off the water, dousing the room in sudden silence. She went to the shower, got his shampoo and a bar of soap, as well as a washcloth. 

She quietly shampooed Bruce’s hair, letting him dunk and rinse it while she started gently washing the grime from his skin. He hummed softly as she wiped the cloth over his shoulders and down his back. She took one arm and then the other, then worked her way down his chest and stomach. She dunked her arms into the hot water and scrubbed down his legs next, careful not to accidentally pull the hairs that covered them. The edges of her sleeves dampened. 

Satisfied that at least most of the grime was off of him, she grabbed one of their shared makeup wipes and started removing the black makeup, heavily smudged down his cheeks from his dripping hair. The water sloshed as Bruce leaned his head back against the edge of the tub. His eyes were still closed. She held his jaw still with one hand and the wipe in the other. 

“He killed a kid,” Bruce suddenly said. The movement of his lips ghosted against her wrist. Under the water, his hands tightened into fists. She’d stopped wiping at his face when he’d spoken, but quickly resumed so he would keep talking. “He broke in and the kid tried to stop him. Made enough noise that the neighbors called the cops. I got there first.” 

Done with removing the makeup, she switched to a facial cleanser and used a clean cloth to wash his face. 

Eyes still closed, Bruce said, “He shot the kid when he saw me. He tried to run, made it into the backyard, out in the suburbs, but–” 

But Bruce had caught him. 

“I almost didn’t stop,” Bruce whispered. His breath gasped from between his lips. Y/n was done with his face and gripped it with both hands. “I almost didn’t–” 

“It’s okay,” she said firmly. “You did. You got the guy. And he’s going to go to jail forever for what he did.” 

Bruce’s eyes opened and latched onto hers. He was still breathing heavily, blue eyes even bluer in the light of the bathroom. Her breath hitched a little. “I was too late,” he whispered, broken, hurting, ashamed. 

Y/n pressed a kiss to his damp forehead, brushing the wet strands of his hair back. He leaned into her touch, watching her from beneath his long, dark lashes. “But you got him, and he’s going to be punished. You can’t blame yourself, Bruce. You did as much as you could.” 

“But I–” 

“What? You could have gotten there sooner? Sure. But he probably would have killed the kid either way. Or maybe he wouldn’t have killed that kid, but he would have had enough time to run. And then he would have killed someone else later. I know–I know it sucks. I’m sorry he was killed, really. But you’re doing enough. You’re enough.” She kissed him lightly. “You’re doing the best you can, and that’s enough. Gotham is better because of it.” 

Bruce’s eyes closed. She released him and watched as he relaxed, little by little. 

“What do you need?” she asked again. “Food? Sleep?” 

Bruce opened his eyes a little to look at her. She studied the long column of his throat as he swallowed. “I want–pizza.” He gave her a sheepish grin, cheeks turning slightly pink. “I just–I haven’t had pizza in a long time and–” 

She smiled. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’ll make it happen. How about I order while you get dressed, or you can relax here for a bit. Then we can watch that new documentary I told you about.” 

Bruce hummed again. “That’d be nice,” he murmured. She kissed him one more time and climbed to her feet. 

She wasn’t confident that a pizza place would be open so late, even in a city as big as Gotham, but she was going to make it happen. Bruce never asked for things for himself, and if he wanted a pizza, she was getting him a damn pizza. 

A quick search on her phone revealed only one place that was still open, and they were set to close at three. It was 2:45. With a small curse, she called the number. They didn’t pick up, so she called again. 

When they answered, she made her case, and offered a hundred dollar tip if they would deliver it despite closing soon. The person on the phone asked the delivery driver in a skeptical voice if they were willing to risk it, not caring that she was still on the other line listening. 

“What’s the address?” he asked with a sigh. 

She gave the mailing address for Wayne Manor. 

The guy was suddenly angry. “I–that’s Wayne Manor. Is this a prank?” 

She bit back a retort and instead only said, “Yes, it’s Wayne Manor. Bruce Wayne wants a pizza. I’m telling you, I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you can get here. Please.” 

There was another hushed conversation before they finally agreed to do the order, promising to have it there within half an hour. 

Y/n hung up with a triumphant smile. Pizza acquired. Now she was going to stoke the fire in the living room, queue up the documentary, and hunt down every appropriate movie snack she could come up with in the house along with as many warm blankets as she could find. 

As she gathered up some throw blankets–ones she’d bought on sale as soon as the weather turned freezing a few weeks before, because Bruce didn’t really have much in the way of comfortable blankets–she called down to the guards at the gate to let them know there was a pizza delivery coming. 

Bruce found her in the kitchen scrounging up snacks and drinks. He was wearing his favorite pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt that was so faded she couldn’t tell if it had always been plain or if it had once said “Nirvana” or something. 

“Alcohol, soda, juice, or water with your pizza?” she asked. She preferred soda when having pizza, and realized that she didn’t know Bruce’s preference. As had happened often these past few weeks, a little thrill shot through her at getting to learn something so simple but strangely intimate about him. No one else knew what Bruce Wayne liked to drink with his pizza. 

Bruce shrugged. “You pick.” 

Soda it was. Caffeine didn’t matter for someone who was nocturnal anyways. 

“I didn’t realize what time it was–how’d you find somewhere still open?” he asked, helping her carry the drinks and plates into the living room where the fire was crackling cheerily. 

“Oh you know, just casually dropped Bruce Wayne’s name and threw in a bribe.” She grinned as he blinked. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” he said with a frown. 

“For once, I’m actually not.” 

Bruce breathed a laugh. “Well, at least I’m good for something.” 

She moved around the couch and wrapped her arms around his waist. She tilted her head back to look up at him. “You’re good for a lot of things.” 

Their lips met halfway. She leaned into the solid warmth of him, his lips chapped but gentle against hers. She still couldn’t get over that this was her life. She felt a little bit like Cinderella after all. 

Bruce’s phone vibrated with an alert from the gate. The pizza was here and being escorted up the driveway. 

“Have you ever ordered takeout here?” she asked as she gently pushed him down onto the couch. “Because the guards definitely seemed surprised.” 

Bruce sank into the cushions. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Um. No. Usually I send Alfred for stuff so no one bothers us.” 

Her response was interrupted by the doorbell. 

“Is–that my wallet?” Bruce asked when she pulled it out. 

She winked and half-skipped to answer the door. 

“Hi,” she said to the pizza delivery guy who wasn’t trying to hide his shock. He craned his neck around her, obviously trying to get a glimpse of Bruce Wayne in his own home. Behind him, the security guard was bundled up on his golf cart, obviously annoyed at having to be out of the warm guardhouse. “Here’s the money for the pizza,” she said as she handed over the cash. Freezing air poured in through the open door. The air smelled crisp and clean, promising snow. “And the promised tip.” 

The guy’s eyes almost popped out of his head. 

“I–Wow, thank you, wow. I thought for sure this was going to be a prank or something, wow. Have a good night!” The guy gave her a huge grin but made no move to leave. He was waiting to see if he could still catch Bruce. 

“You too!” she said as she closed the door in his face. 

She brought the two steaming pizzas back to Bruce, who perked up when he saw them. 

“I got two larges with each half something different. I have no idea what you like.” She bit her lip. “Probably should have asked before I ordered, huh?” 

He tugged her wrist so she would sit beside him. “Perfect,” he said, kissing her temple, before eagerly grabbing the boxes. She watched as he chose a slice of all four kinds of pizza and dug in. 

“How long has it been since you’ve had pizza?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she got a couple of slices of her favorite. Bruce was eating with the enthusiasm of a preteen boy at a sleepover who could have as many slices as he wanted without being told to stop. 

“Um,” he said, mouth so full she had to laugh. He chewed and swallowed. His cheeks were pink again. “Before Batman, I think?” 

“Wow. That’s…you haven’t had pizza in like two years?” Her mouth dropped open of its own accord. “Isn’t that…a sin or something?” 

Bruce huffed a laugh. “Well now that I’m having it, I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

She bumped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all about Gotham’s best pizza places.” 

They ate in companionable silence as the documentary played on the screen. After a little while, Bruce propped his feet on the coffee table and pulled a blanket over himself. She snuggled into his side and tucked her knees up. 

His cold fingers laced with hers. He smiled at her, all soft angles in the low light of the screen and the fire, and lifted his arm so she could snuggle closer. 

Outside, snow began to fall, the first of the season. 

Y/n gasped and sat straight up as her eyes fell on the window. 

Bruce sat up too, instantly on alert, eyes darting around for any hidden threats. 

“Snow!” she said, pointing excitedly towards the window. 

He made a face. 

“I’m going outside,” she said, scrambling up from the couch and making a beeline for their room. She pulled on snow boots, a hat, and a couple of extra layers. 

“It’s freezing,” Bruce said from right behind her. He was frowning deeply. “It’s just snow.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen it snow here. I’ve always been stuck in the city where it turns brown as soon as it touches the ground. Here though–” She sighed wistfully as she began lacing up her boots. 

Bruce sighed, a much more resigned sigh than hers had been, and started bundling up. He pulled a knit hat over his dark hair and she had to stop to smile at him for a second. 

“What?” he asked, a little self conscious. 

“Nothing. You just look so cozy.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him excitedly out of the front door and onto the already snow-covered lawn. 

The flakes were falling thick and fast, a gentle shushing noise the only sound to be heard for miles. Even the distant city noises have quieted, a blanket of silence laying over all of Gotham. 

Y/n spun in a circle, arms thrown wide, head tilted back to catch flakes on her tongue.  

The grounds of Wayne Manor–and the house itself–were spectacular in the snow. She couldn’t wait to wake up in the early afternoon and see the thick white covering everything in the daylight. She inhaled deeply and let the clean scent of the snow fill her lungs. It was so much better than it had been in the city. 

She turned to find Bruce staring at her, his expression dumbstruck, like he had been hit in the head. 

“What?” she asked with a grin. 

He merely shook his head and smiled. He was a splash of shadow in the bright white in his dark clothes. The snow, even in the dark, made his eyes so much bluer. Her breath caught in her chest as she looked at him. 

“I love you,” he said, then pulled her close for a kiss that stole what was left of her breath. 

She didn’t know it, but it was at that precise moment that Bruce Wayne decided he wanted to propose to her. 

They spend a few minutes in the snow. Bruce took her hand and they started walking, no destination in mind, simply enjoying each other’s company. 

She stopped to retie her boot. When she straightened, a snowball hit Bruce squarely in the face. 

She laughed and skipped away. He caught her about the waist and held her with one strong arm while the other scooped up a handful of snow to press against her bare neck. She shrieked and struggled to get away. 

Laughing, they threw snow back and forth, hardly bothering to even form snowballs. 

Bruce caught her again and yanked her close. His lips crashed against hers, his nose cold, his body warm against hers. 

“What was that for?” she breathed when he finally pulled away. 

“I love you,” he said fiercely. There was something in his face she couldn’t quite place. “Thank you.” 

“For hitting you in the face with snow?” she asked with a laugh. 

“For–making this fun.” He kissed her again. “But can we please go inside now?” 

She laughed again. Everything was bright within her. Her heart was so full of joy she could burst. Things were good–she was going to build that restaurant and shelter, Bruce loved her, and Wayne Manor looked beautiful in the snow. 

“I haven’t told you yet!” she said excitedly as they headed back inside. “I found the perfect place.” 

Bruce let her chatter at him as she led him inside, back to their bedroom, both of them freezing and damp now. 

She was radiant like this–her face glowingly happy, hair damp with melting snowflakes, talking about the project she was passionate about. 

Bruce wanted to marry her. He wanted her to be his wife, to be his forever. 

Maybe Alfred could help him find his mother’s old engagement ring.

taglist: 

@pop-rocks-and-skittles @calumspupils @n1ght5h4d3-24 @keepingitlokiii @11mb0 @illicitghosts @cat-purrsonified @blue-aconite @junggoku @ohheyitsrowan @angxlictexrs @glowexe  @avengersgirllorianna @brynhildrmimi @takeyour-pants-off  @twilightdollie @p-writes @lady-x-red @xingqiusliegee @scxrletwitches @justine-en @philiasoul @srryxmate @thecherrybombcom @minstens @curly-bookworm @call-me-nayo​

[snoopdoodle]

Hello, Snoop :] Can I have a M! reader that is like the "Main Creative Big Builder" of the SMP. Like helped build the "Pandora's Vault" [ + redstone], "Las Nevadas", and ect. But only Wilbur, Dream (+ Sam), and Big Q know about reader because reader usually builds when no one is on other people [Bench trio, Phil, ect.] Mid-Lore stream, when C! Philza, Bench Trio, & Sam go to visit Dream and the redstone for the vault is mess up so they have to get Reader on the SMP to fix it. Anarchy :]

i think its concerning how I listened to "true crime in America" while writing this wholesome write :,)

======

[Name] to the rescue!

platonic!benchtrio x male!reader, platonic!philza x male!reader, platonic!awesamdude x male!reader

pronouns: he/him

summary: pandoras vault? broken? not for long, call for [name]!

======

You were known as one of the “gods'' on the server. It was due to you rarely being mentioned, but also having so many landmarks, like in the prison, the main builds of L’manburg, and a few helpful builds in Las Nevadas, like the casino. You also did a bit of redstone early on in Eret’s castle as a surprise. It was funny to see his reaction, as he was shocked to find a secret room in one of the main rooms in the castle. Your “godly-ness” was just operator powers and somehow, not being seen by anyone on the SMP so far….. Besides Sam and Dream.

The main people who mentioned you lore wise were dream and Wilbur. Dream had mentioned you after he used his revival book. It was strange for everyone else, but the rest of the viewers and the people on the SMP thought that it was just lore that they hadn’t read. Maybe, it could have been some surprise improv that he had thought of a couple minutes before. But anyway, the one time you had been seen by anyone, was a bit funny, to dream at least. You had tried so hard to stay as this “god” that was just a myth to the SMP, but of course, nothing can stay the same.

Phil, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo were walking to the prison. Tommy was taking shallow breaths, trying to stay in character. Sam had messaged the lot earlier, saying how some of the restone had been broken for some reason, and he had struggled to fix it, but he tried his best. Tubbo’s character turned to Tommy and gave him a little punch, causing Tommy to give a shriek. “What was that for, man?!” he yelled, his voice booming with annoyance and hints of fear to stay in character. Tubbo and Phil gave a laugh as Ranboo stayed silent to be in character. 

“Hey, don’t be sweaty about this man. It… It’s just a small visit to a “homeless man” as Technoblade would say. We got this!” Tubbo spoke, shakily, but cheerful. Ranboo gave a sigh and looked over to Phil. “Hey Phil,” He started, causing Phil to look over to him. “D-Do you think everything will be ok? Like after this..? We know what happened with Tommy before…” He spoke, staying in character as best he could. But really, he was more concerned with the fact that the Prison was down. The question and reasoning cause Tommy, Tubbo, and Phil to stop and stare at him. 

“Wow mam, way to stay positive.” Tommy huffed in annoyance. Phil stifled a laugh and Tubbo gave a “pft” to the comment. They all continued walking, getting closer to the Prison block by block. They stared into the nether portal at the front gate as soon as they got there. The men froze. Phil took charge and walked into the portal, leading Ranboo, Tommy, and Tubbo to do the same. Tubbo and Ranboo ogled at the prison, having never seen it before. Tommy scoffed at their awe, and Phil gave a huff trying to be content with their bullshit.

“Welcome to the prison. I’ll need you to sign these books,” Sam spoke as a greeting, not caring about the rudeness and tiredness in his voice. Tubbo and Ranboo were taken back in surprise at how well he was in character. Philza was the first to walk up to Sam and grab a book. Tommy was next, due to being closer, then Ranboo, the Tubbo. They all grabbed the books and signed their names, walking back to Sam. He walked off, causing the others to follow. Sam pulled a lever on the wall, hoping it would work. His hands were sweaty as he didn’t know how much redstone was broken.

“Wait a second…” He mumbled to the group, walking over to another lever. He flicked it, and this time it worked. “Damnit,” He spoke, realizing he’d have to call someone, that someone being you, on your off day. “Everything ok, Sam?” Ranboo spoke in a hushed voice. In reality, he was trying not to laugh, but he had to stay in character. He was determined not to break. Sam sighed, “Well, now I have to call him,” Phil gave a confused face to his camera, not processing the situation. “Who?” He spoke, asking the question everyone was asking, whether they were viewers or the others in the call.

“You know the.. ‘God’ of the server? Yeah, It’s him,” Sam spoke, and you could hear the dialing of a phone. The ringing of the phone started and then stopped, prompting everyone to be quiet and listen in. “Hello? You need something, I was sleeping,” You spoke, your tired morning voice shocking everyone. “For someone who's asleep, you answered pretty fast,” Sam retorted, and you could hear the giggle of others in the call. You gave a scoff. “Har, Har… anyway, you need something?” You spoke, viewers swooning for you even more.

“Yeah, some of the redstone in the prison broke and I need you to fix it. I tried earlier, but it didn’t work,” Same spoke, sort of revealing that you worked on the prison, you had the ability to be on the server, and that Sam knew how to contact you. The other men in the call just had shocked faces for the fact that they didn’t know about you, and had been given no hints about who you were. Tommy jumped to the DreamSMP discord server and scrolled through the list of people. He was shocked to find a name that he had never seen before with the “admin” and the “builder” roll.

“Wait-wait-wait!” Tommy started after hearing the call end. He assumed you would be opening your computer and hopping on to help with the server. “Was this the guy who helped build L’manburg while everyone was offline? W-Who even is this guy?” He said the last part with a laugh. At this time, you had joined the voice call, and you decided to put in your 2 cents of lore. “Well… I guess you could say that I’m god,” You spoke, your voice still sounding drowsy as one thing came up in the server’s chat.

[Your Username] has joined the game

Others didn’t know who you were and thought you were  a hacker, immediately going to the other’s streams to find out. Some even went to Dream himself to tell him that there was a hacker on the server. Dream ended up sending a server-wide ping out to say that no, you weren’t a hacker, and no, he wouldn’t kick or ban you. You ended up becoming a part of pure lore. The main part was that you were a god, the God of Redstone and creation, and you were known to be summoned by certain people. Your lore became so used that you ended up being in even more lore streams and creating friendships with other people outside of streaming. You're really glad that the redstone broke that day.

[darlingbudsofrae]

Neil Josten Appreciation Post

Foxes Appreciation Series : 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 ||

Alright, let’s just start this by addressing the big elephant in the room: everyone loves Neil Josten. EVERYONE.

If you don’t, you’re lying. 

Okay, first up- I’m glad this is getting addressed more on AFTG tumblr but Neil is literally so much smarter than the fandom gives him credit for.

Like yes, he’s a little dumdum on the social aspect of things (you could argue he kind of has a low EQ but also not really, I would argue that later)

but that doesn’t dismiss that he is smart af and that he can kill you and make it look natural if he wants.

For example, he literally outrun and hid from the mafia for years. Like, that in itself is an obvious point but we often forget that he did this at a very young age.

Like, he was presumably what? 16?? (when Mary kicked the bucket?) And kid was already playing hide and seek pretty well with a freaking mafia.

He does not get enough credit for this.

The survival skills it takes- the mental strength to survive as a runaway and technically he’s also homeless- at freaking 16, that’s just insane.

Also, let’s not mention the fact that it takes skills to forge official papers and all that.

We also do not talk enough about Neil and how he freaking have to relearn an entirely new position just to play exy.

I don’t think most remember that he’s actually a backliner, but have to play as a striker because it was the only available position in that local high school he attended in Millport, and that was how Kevin saw him so he was recruited as a striker.

We also additionally do not talk enough about how Kevin “literal and figurative Son of Exy” Day found potential for court in Neil “I’m a backliner but I’m playing striker because it’s the only thing available and I’m an exy junkie” Josten who only played it for like a year or less. 

Like yeah, Kevin said he needs more training but it’s not even Neil’s official position. 

The talent on this man- I cannot, he is such an icon. 

Aside from his great survival skills and being literally great at picking things up- he’s also like freaking academically smart.

Like that also doesn’t get enough credit- I mean, he does math for fun.

Frankly, I think if you did Kumon or if you had an awesome teacher you could also do math for fun (I know I did) but this should be noted with the fact that he didn’t have proper schooling.

He went on a run at a really young age so there is no way he received formal education.

Which means he is naturally like really smart.

He’s also a polyglot. And the languages he has under his belt are all freaking difficult to learn- like, no kidding: French, German, and he can assumingly speak intermediate Spanish, and we don’t even have an idea if this is all the languages he can speak.

Also, he and Andrew learns how to speak Russian, right? Like, that’s crazy.

The brain on this man and the power that he has- my son, I am so proud.

I mean, for all we know- there’s more than that and the fact that he’s like 18 at TFC screams supremacy.

This is where I argue about his EQ but Neil is crazy perceptive.

It took him like freaking 3 seconds to figure out the team dynamics the foxes have, and how to work against it.

He later figured out how to make it all mesh together.

Like the way he do things isn’t conventional but reading him analyze his team despite his lack of empathy really makes me shudder.

Like, this kid is so freaking smart. I remember reading his thought process for the very first time and being like, okay- I definitely did not think about that.

The main problem with his EQ though is that he doesn’t know how to process positive stuff when he’s involved, but when he’s the outsider- his perspective is so amazing.

Like again, he kind of lacks empathy but the way he understands things and is just so sharp is just noteworthy.

I’d argue he doesn’t understand social cues and “modern teen things” but he isn’t so completely clueless on the social aspect in general as to not manipulate an entire team of misfits with issues to work together.

He’s literally the key to unity in AFTG. Even Dan says so.

Also, the way he puts things into play- like he’s a master manipulator, and I love that for him.

We do not talk enough about manipulative Neil, like I just really love manipulative characters in general so much- especially if they’re just owning it. 

I mean, he freaking manipulated Andrew and Aaron into therapy. Kind of evil but also wow. (just a sidenote, please don’t force people into therapy lol)

Going completely dark for a second, Neil also has a freaking high pain tolerance.

The amount of horrible things he went through in the books were just so sad and the fact that he just kind of moves on from it? That’s just completely oh my gods.

My poor summer child, even if you can kill me at any given time, let me just hug you for a second with consent.

Everyone also gives shit about Neil’s fashion choices and granted it is said he kind of bags the homeless looks but the fact that he values utility above all else-

Yes, we stan a resourceful king. 

Lowkey though, am I the only one who appreciate Neil’s average style?

Speaking of style- I love the way Neil narrates. Like, the way he doesn’t give much attention to how the character looks- it’s just so realistic?

Because if I’m talking to a person in real life, there is no way I am noting how his blue polo makes him kind of casual but clean-cut and how his brown eyes is as warm as my morning coffee. Like, who even does that?

The thing with Neil’s narration is that it’s just so authentic- like it easily engages the readers and the way he gives importance to every thing the same way, it really makes it easier for the reader to discern things objectively, y’know what I mean?

He just has that quality in a main character and narrator- he’s laidback and sarcastic but not trying too hard, and he’s just really easy to love.

Like, I normally don’t like narrators/main characters in books because I favor a side character more or just because they’re annoying, but Neil Josten is legit lovable. 

At the same time, he’s also a really well-written character. Like, for all the technicalities I point out in AFTG, Neil is an asshole. He’s not perfect and I don’t 100% love everything that he does and I love that.

He’s a flawed character but he gives you something to root for- and I just really want to appreciate his characterization for a second. Most books make their characters’ flaws not even their fault to put a check to the flawed character but at the same time still have that perfect character. Eeww, no- give me real flaws to work with.

He’s one of the realest protagonists I ever read.

Like people give him shit for wanting to hide but also choosing to play a nationwide-discerned sport on an infamous collegiate team but for me it’s kind of realistic.

Because I think we, as human beings, also do things we love too much regardless of logic. I don’t know, like it’s kind of funny the way Neil is written but I honestly didn’t see him joining Palmetto as a loophole.

Like, just think of all those successful people who hid their identities via pseudonym or other necessary means to do things they weren’t expected to do or weren’t allowed to do.

For me, his character was really just looking for excuses to play his favorite sport a second longer and if anything, that’s just kind of sad.

But also, his dedication and love to exy is really admirable- like I never understood it but the way he literally does everything to stay on the court for a second longer just makes me want to root for him.

On a random note, Neil may not have an eidetic memory like Andrew’s but the way he memorize most phone numbers by heart? 

Bruh, I don’t even have my phone number memorized and I freaking have it for two years now. 

He also memorizes every twists and turns at every trip, every exits at a room he enters, and most people’s tics upon the first meeting, and other things and that’s just crazy perceptive but also really crazy on another level.

Also, we don’t get much ace/demi representation and out of the few I’ve consumed, demi Neil Josten validates me. He’s legit my favorite character that belongs in the ace spec in books.

I just really love Neil’s character so much- he’s just so amazing.

One thing I always appreciate about Neil Josten is that while he’s not a total angel (sadly), the way he loves the foxes- like he legit tried to mend the team and make sure everyone is going to be okay before walking straight to his death- like I’m with Andrew on this one, what a fucking martyr. Why are you like this and why am I crying?

Neil Josten is by all means not soft, that much is established, but the way he’s just still as precious and must be protected at all costs-

"You know, I get it," Neil said. "Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time."

I love him, your honor- where can I file this adoption papers and do I have anything else to sign?

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#166

“We are both in a pickle aren’t we faggot? Well actually you. I wasn’t the one arrested for public sexual activity under the overpass down by the river. Granted I could have been caught there with my dick in you like it was the other day. But I don’t think my officers would have done anything to me. First I know when the stings happen....

"Second, the lead officer, the one that arrested you is a buddy from a long time ago from our days in the Corps. He would protect me, just like I have protected him in the past. I knew there would be no sting when that big construction worker and I fucked that faggot cunt of yours. I mean, I have an eight incher, but his was fucking huge, easily an inch or two longer. You were in heaven getting spit roasted and spun around and spit roasted again. I can’t remember which hole I unloaded into the first time. And it’s been a long time since I could go for a second load. But the way he was smacking you around and verbally treating you like shit, I couldn’t lose my boner.

"In all my times going, I have never seen that man there. My officer bud tells me that right before he arrested you, that he saw that construction worker walking back to the parking lot with a sizable bulge in his pants. Yeah he knew you were just fucked. What he didn’t expect is to find you naked beating off covered in his piss, and skid marks on your face. You fucking pig. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were into the pig stuff? I would have been using you regularly to eat my ass. I love a good tongue in my shithole. Hell, I have a rimseat set up at home for just that reason.

"In fact, I want to feel it now. On your knees, let me give you a taste of what you would have been eating all along. Get that tongue in there deep. Oh fuck. That feels good. Damn, for an eighteen-year-old, you sure know how to eat ass. Fucking hell. My cock is rock hard. I need to fuck your twat. You probably still have his load in your ass. Up over the desk. I’m going right to the root on the first thrust. Damn! He really stretched your twat out. Not much resistance. And he dumped a huge load up here, it’s all nice and slimy.

"It won’t take me long. Fuck yeah. You fucking slut. Your cunt was made for men to dump into. That’s what you exist for, to be used by men, real men. Faggot here it cums. Here is fucking cums. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Damn faggot. Clean me off. Ho boy! That felt good. Squat down there with my dick in your mouth. I’m going to try your urinal skills in a few moments when I get soft, seeing that it will be the only time I will get to.

"Let me explain your situation. My buddy and I scout for boys like yourself. We looked into your background. You ran away from your last foster home two years ago. You wound up here back in May, homeless. You sleep in the woods up stream with a few other of our homeless. You pretty much spend your days under that overpass earning cash the old fashioned way. So yeah we know who you are.

"We posted a few pics I took of you to a site, and we have a buyer. That construction worker drove half a day to collect you. He first tried you out with me. Then he wanted you one on one before he made his decision. On the way back to the parking lot, he passed my fellow officer. With a subtle nod, he told us that he wanted to claim you. All that was left was collecting you. That brings you here. You have a decision of your own to make here. No paperwork has been processed, so you haven’t been arrested. But it can be. Your first choice is to be arrested on a number of counts, some of which will require to register as a public sex offender for life. The other is to be taken by that construction worker and his enormous cock. Based on what he has said on that site, you will be locked up and brutally used as he sees fit. From what he did to you today, most likely that would involve becoming his toilet as starters. Those are your two options. You get to decide.

"Speaking of being a toilet, I’ll let you make your life changing choice while you are drinking that load of my piss. Ahhh. That feels good. Real good. You really enjoy doing this, don’t you? Just nod. Figured. So it’s obvious; there really is no decision to be made here. I don’t know who trained you to be a world class pig fag, but he did a great job. Now stand up and let’s get you to your new owner. The hell? I spoke too soon. Look at that, you leaked spooge all over the floor. Get the fuck down there and lick it up. For fuck’s sake.”

[void-star]

Oh absolutely, re: Rose and Damien. Their friendship means a lot to me. The way they handled it just didn't match the situation, for me. Damien had already gotten hospitalized for his escalation and he was imprisoned.

Realistically speaking, the only reason you warn somebody about a potential dangerous person in your community is when they are, first of all, predatory in their behavior but second of all when there isn't really any other options in terms of keeping people safe from abuse.

... But in the world, there's actually a whole entire government funded military project agency which is absolutely invested in snatching atypicals that might be considered even a little dangerous under the right circumstances (like Mark).

Anyway, if you want to get more of Rose and Damien's friendship and you haven't read Some Faraway Place, I recommend it (if you like audiobooks, the audiobooks are voiced by the VAs for Rose and Damien and I highly recommend listening to the way Charlie Ian's voice cracks during the series of letters he writes and never sends to Mark).

I am also 100% in agreement that Mark really threw Damien under the bus and joined in on the Damnation of Damien, as you say (I love that!).

What's particularly interesting to me about Mark doing that is, realistically, he is homeless and has been outside of normal society for 5+ years.

His options for having basic needs met are: Joan, his sister which he has a lot of conflicting feelings about form even before being snatched by the AM, Sam, a person he loves who absolutely fucking hates his ex and therefore never let's him have the space to process anything complicated about his feelings and situation with Damien, or Damien, who he has complicated feelings about and the two people closest to him (his sister and his girlfriend) hate.

And Joan and Sam definitely kind of steamroll Mark in a lot of ways. They're not sensitive to the fact that he has cptsd from like, multiple kidnappings and the AM's experimentation and torture. They don't really care how he feels about Damien, they don't give that a lot of room for nuance. They also treat Mark like a Thing that needs protection... in Joan's case, her baby brother even though they're both adults, and in Sam's case, her damsel that she ought to have been the one to save and rescue.

All of which I find deeply interesting and fascinating as flawed characteda but narratively which was never really allowed to stand or be explored... because we were too busy focusing on the Fuck Damien train.

.... like to the point where nobody acted in time to deal with the AM. Instead Wadsworth, who objectively inflicted more harm and caused more damage to the community than Damien ever did, and who holds actual dangerous beliefs about atypicals, gets a promotion... and Joan is just like well hey I could use a salary job again...

Does anyone remember that time when Damien said Dr. Bright is like "the big sister I never had" and then five minutes later, Joan says Damien is "the literal definition of expendable."

Cause I definitely forgot all about that.

Joan describing Damien as pathetic (he is). That she thinks about what she would do with his power and it makes her uncomfortable, while Damien only uses his power to "spend time with people."

... how is it that most of the fandom doesn't see Joan as an unreliable narrator and high key kind of concerning as a person in a profession with a fair amount of authority????

[winchesterxxi]

Enough is Enough (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Rating: T (Teen and Up)

Type: Angst

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Reader and Poe have been arguing for over a week and completely avoiding each other. This has come to the attention to the person that happens to be your third wheel most of the time - Finn. Along with BB8 and Rey they come up with a plan to get the two of you talking.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing

A/N: I’m back baby.

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It’s only 8am on a Monday and you already feel like murdering people.

Your fiancé to be exact.

As soon as your alarm had sounded across the room, you jumped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You brushed your teeth and hair, got dressed and walked out into the bedroom, striding across it and out the other door.

Poe was awake, facing the door, and he saw you walk out, eyes trailing after your back but a scowl firm on his face. He really had fucked up, and he knew it. But for fuck’s sake, you’re both adults, if you are going to give him the silent treatment like a child, he is not above doing the same to you.

So out he goes. He rises from the bed, tired hand running through his unruly curls at the same time as a yawn proceeding to complete his morning routine, before striding across the same path as you, grabbing his pilot jacket in the process.

The cantina was packed – it’s a Monday morning, of course it is. Pilots, mechanics and Resistance workers from all branches crammed along the trayline trying to get the freshest pieces of toast or the juiciest pieces of fruit before the others could get to them.

Poe doesn’t blame them. Most of these people were either on the brick of hunger and homelessness or being deprived of their needs by the Empire before they had been recruited the Resistance and the fact that they now had warm meals every day for which they paid with their own sweat, was something to be cherished.

The latter case resembled that of Finn who he spotted at one of the tables, and he made a b line to seat next to his friend. Upon getting closer he noticed that Finn was sitting in front of Rey who, in her turn was sitting next to…you.

That’s fine. This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

Before going to the table, Poe decides to take a detour and get some breakfast before sitting down. Because he was hungry. Not because this would buy him some time before inevitably sitting down in front of you and try to contain the immense annoyance you’ve been causing him for the past week.

After a few moments, Poe looks down at his tray and its fullness, food about to spill out – more food than he could ever possibly stomach. He closes his eyes and sighs before an Ewok is pushing him away from where he stood in front of the pastry baskets. Straightening himself back up, Poe finally walks up to the table, flashing a smile at Finn before setting his tray down next to him and sitting in front of you.

When he passes your side you can sense his cologne invade your nostrils and, somehow, that only makes you angrier.

“Morning, pilot.” Rey teases but her smile quickly retracts once she spots the scowl on both your faces, looking from Poe to you and to him again. Finn senses the heavy energy and eyes Rey who gives him a silent clueless shrug.

“So,” Finn asks “what plans does the Dameron couple have for today?”

It’s as if the guy read your minds.

“I don’t know of any couple that goes by that name.” You mumble into your spoon of oatmeal and Poe’s eyes zero in on you.

Panic flashes across Finn and Rey’s once they hear you. Did the two of you break up? Is the wedding off?

“People are individuals, you know, Finn.” You settle down your spoon and turn your face to him, elaborating with a tone that had a slight taint of menace in it “Even though a couple is in a relationship they remain individuals.” You point the tone in word individuals, eyes narrowing to the man in front of you. Rey and Finn exchange a look.

“The fact that people are individuals doesn’t mean they can’t share a part of the other’s identity.” He snakes into the rim of his cup of coffee, eyes never leaving yours.

“It does if that meant they had to give up a part of their own identity.” You snap back, voice low.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Rey wavers and looks between the two of you.

“Thing is, Rey.” You turn to her “and Finn… there is no Dameron couple. There is a Poe Dameron and Y/N Y/L/N couple. But I’m not even too sure of that now.”

Poe puts his mug of coffee down a little too abruptly as he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Are you really that entitled?”

“I’m the one who’s entitled? Have you heard yourself speak lately?” you mimic his movements, leaning forward on your own side of the table

“Why is it such a big deal for you?”

“Because it’s who I am!” you borderline-scream and get all of the cantina’s attention drawn to you, specifically those of the two people sitting next to you, looking in shock at your sudden outburst, which they’d never even gotten a glimpse of.

You and Poe hold each other’s gaze for a long while, focused on nothing but each other and the mix of rage and hurt rumbling inside of you. And when you can’t help your lips from trembling and your eyes to burn with tears, you swear you can see something break inside of him.

He himself swore he was about to break this stupid game the minute he saw your face. For the glimpse of a second, he felt like reaching his hand up to cup your face, or to hold your hand or to stroke your jawline in that way that calmed you down. But before he could act on his impulses, you stormed out of the cantina, leaving behind your cooling breakfast and a torn Poe.

“What did you do?” Rey asks horrified at what she just witness and somewhat ready to throw fists at the man who seemingly broke her friend’s heart.

“It’s not what I did it’s what I said.” He mumbles and stands up from his own seat and, just like you, leaving behind an untouched tray of food and a half cup of coffee while Finn and Rey follow him with their gaze.

It was nice of Rey to ask you to go out for drinks tonight. Not just that, but she didn’t ask questions – she didn’t throw you a pity what was that about? or are you okay? Because it obviously wasn’t. It wasn’t and you don’t think it would ever be again.

So here you were, walking into a low-light bar in Canto Bight in your favourite pair of dress and shoes with nothing in your mind but the drink you were eager to order and the friend you were looking forward to meeting – a luxury that, just a few months ago would not have been possible. When you’re fighting for your own survival, a night at the bar isn’t exactly your top priority, but that was in the past.

Straightening yourself up, you smooth your dress and walk over to the table with the number she had told you – number 15. Upon reaching it, you sat down facing the door and nudging away the waiter who comes by to ask if you’d like a drink. There was no way in the galaxy you were starting the drinking night alone. Maker knows how that would end.

It had just been a few minutes of fidgeting with the table towel when you look up to the bar’s entrance and your eyes meet the last person you wanted to see. Poe. And damn, if it weren’t for the current situation he would’ve knocked the wind right out of you.

He looked good. Shinny curls and a fresh face with his good leather jacket. He looked really good. And you hated him for that.

He didn’t quite spot you until he was halfway across the bar in the direction you were sitting in, eyes coming into focus on your figure as you quickly stood up and took a small step back. Standing to your full height, Poe swears he’d never seen you look so perfect, which made the energy between the two of you all the more painful.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, hugging your arms close to your body.

“I’m here to meet Finn.” He replies, hands nervously spasming by his side, a habit you’d come to know and love.

“On this table?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m here to meet Rey.” You answer quietly, scoffing.

“It’s a two people table.” He says matter-of-factly.

“And they’re not here.”

“But we are.”

Realization struck the both of you and Poe runs a hand over his exasperated face as you throw your head back and close your eyes. He sighs deeply before bringing one hand up to his hip.

“Can we then at least talk?”

You scoff at him.

“No.” Is your simple one-word answer before you try and make your way to the door, which he blocks.

“Y/N –“

“No. Are you going to let me pass?” he doesn’t move.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N.”

You scowl and turn around striding to where you know to be an elevator – if you can’t get out, at least you can go up. At this point, being on a different floor was enough. You can hear him mumbling words behind you but you try to pay him no intention, beyond grateful that the elevator’s doors opened as soon as you clicked the button.

“Fuck you Dameron.”

Stepping in, your not quick enough to press the closing button before Poe is slithering between the almost-closed doors and stepping into the same space as you.

“Oh, now you’re okay with using my last name?”

“When addressing you? Yeah, totally.” You nudge him so you can reach the buttons and press R for rooftop. He does a double-take on you before running his fingers across all the floors. You look up at him incredulously. “Really mature.”

“Mature is talking. And we are going to talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about!”

“Will you talk to me?”

“I don’t want t---” you were about to scream when the elevator came to a halt and you stumbled into Poe’s arms, before standing right up, the lights above you flickering.

“Great! Just what we needed.” he throws his hands up in the air, and now you really thought you could slap him across his beautiful face.

“Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pressed all the buttons like a kid!”

- Meanwhile, above the elevator -

“BB8.” Finn whisper yells from the open door, three floors above. “How long can you hold them?”

The poor droid, with his little tools stuck in the flashing wires, beeps in response.

“He said maybe 5 more minutes.” Rey translates, before flopping back on the floor and away from the open door and the empty elevator space. After a few moments in silence, she nudges Finn’s side.

“Don’t you think this is adding fuel to the fire?”

“They just need to talk. Plus they’ve been avoiding each other. We’re doing them a favour.”

- Back on the elevator –

Taking in a deep breath you lean back against one of the elevator’s golden mirror walls.

“Why did you get like that when I said I wanted to keep my name?”

“I… do you really hate the idea of being called a Dameron so much?” his voice is small as he stands in the middle of the floor, eyes searching yours.

“It’s not that! I just… I hate the idea that just because we’re getting married I need to give up being called by my last name. I never wanted that! It’s not because it’s you. I told myself that if I ever was to get married I’d never take another man’s name.” Tears are back at pooling at the corners of your eyes as you turn your head slightly to look into Poe’s sad face.

“Or maybe you just don’t want to be known as the ex-spice-runner’s-wife.” His statement is but a whisper as his voice gets caught in the back of his throat and you have never seen him this close to tears.

That’s what does it for you. That’s what makes you reach forward and grab his warm face in your hands, guiding him to look at you.

“Hey, hey… That is not true. Don’t you ever think that. I love you. I love you for who you were, who you are and who you’re yet to be… which I hope to be there to cherish.” The tears roll down both your cheeks as a breathy chuckle leaves you. “It’s not about your name. It’s about mine. And I… it really hurt me when you said those things. Acting as if me keeping my name was a sin or something.”

He averts your gaze, looking at the floor but you motion his face back to where it was.

“Hey. Here…” you guide one of his hands to where your heart beats “I’m already a Dameron. Have been for a long time. Just not on paper. And at the end of the day… what is more important?”

It’s his turn to cup your face and bring his forehead close to yours. “I’m so sorry. I was an idiot… thank you for…this.”

“No, thank you.”

His hands are the ones that pull your face up and wipe a stray tear from the corner of your eye, before stroking your cheekbones with a feather-light touch.

“You look beautiful-- ”

“I love you.”

It’s a short and exasperate sentence, but you’ve gone almost two weeks without saying it and Maker, how you missed the way it sounded and the way it felt rolling out of your lips. Poe could say the same, the deprivation of that sentence that he has suffered sending a bolt of warmth across his body as if this were your first date all those years ago.

For a moment your eyes cross, but before too long he is lunching forward and capturing your lips in his. The tears came again as he held onto the kiss as if that was the only thing keeping him alive.

You were reluctant to pull away from the sweet embrace, but you did. And you were met with the sweet smile you had missed.

“What do we say we go downstairs… I have a feeling there’s a table waiting just for us.” He jokes, running a quick hand over his watery eyes and you chuckle at the timely joke.

“Yeah, yeah… I’d like that.” You smile, grabbing his cheek and kissing it once again. And, as if on queue. The elevator starts working again, lights flickering for a few seconds, and the only button that was on was that of the Ground floor from which you were trying to get away from just a few minutes before.

Little did the two of you know that attached to the roof of the elevator was a happy BB8 as the compartment went down and, just a few floors above, two very content Resistance members, high-fiving.

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[mypoisonedvine]

Can u pls write something like dark!reader x steve rogers high school AU , where R is rich spoil brat & she always had a crush on steve but she always bully him by calling him skinny and all and Then yrs later, time changes her family discarded her from will and she becomes poor and need job, got hired for PA by dark ceo!steve rogers who she bullied her all school lifee😈😈

okay this is a lot for a headcanon but I don’t have time to do a whole oneshot BUT I also really like it so we’re gonna just make a longass headcanon here we gooooo

warnings for heavy dub con, choking, slapping, degradation (by steve), bullying (by the reader), abortion mention, brief mention of/implied assault.

“heyo pipsqueak” you called out to get steve’s attention, laughing when he frowned.  “looks like you grew a whole inch over summer, be sure to have your mom draw a line in pencil on the doorframe.”

he just rolled his eyes and got back to chatting with his friend.  not friends, friend, cause he only had one: bucky, who snarled at you as well.

“pick on someone your own size, if you can find somebody with as big a head as you,” bucky shot back, making you scoff.

“you know, it’s a shame you hang out with this deformed freak, you could’ve been popular.  you’ve got the looks for it.”

“I’d rather keep my brains, thanks,” bucky explained as you walked away with your posse of fellow popular kids.

you didn’t used to be so mean to steve.  it was sort of a comedy of errors, really.  you two had been friends in elementary school-- you, him, and bucky were the rambunctious trio up until middle school.  

things change for boys and girls in middle school.  guys just get along with each other and don’t think about it much.  girls, though... girls need to be sharp.  it’s eat or be eaten.  and you wanted to eat.

you were lucky that you developed early.  it meant that girls respected you and boys feared you-- not just for your attractive features but for the fact that you loomed a foot over most of them.

you started to take advantage of it.  and by the time you realized you had feelings for your best friend steve, it was already too late-- he was at the bottom of the food chain and you were at the top.  

you told your new girl friends that you wanted to take steve to the sadie hawkins.  they laughed at you.  for a moment, you felt what it was like to be outcast and you never wanted to feel it again.  so, you told steve and bucky that you’d grown apart.  and you were happy to just be former friends...

it was steve that started it.  he called you out.  he told you that you were nothing like who he used to know-- you had become vapid and cold and narcissistic.

“you’re so busy worrying about what other people think, you never take the time to think for yourself.”  that was what he said.  and it fucking hurt.

“saw you talking to your boyfriend steve the dweeb,” your friend tanya announced at lunch just a few minutes after that conversation.  and you were angry, and hurt, and truly friendless despite being surrounded by other popular girls.  so you said some things you could never take back.

“steve?  as if.  did you know he still sleeps with a security blanket?  and he has his friend bucky fight for him every week cause if he took a punch he’d crumble to dust?”

and so, mortal enemies were formed.  it only got worse in high school, as you fought to secure your title at the top while steve and bucky’s presence filled your heart with guilt and your gut with anger.

if only you’d known how quickly you could fall from your high horse.

it started when you dated tanya’s ex, brock.  she was made so she spread a rumor that you would fuck any guy on the football team, even all of them at once.

apparently, a lot of people believed it since tanya had been your sidekick since 6th grade.

two football players believed it.  and when you wouldn’t follow through on it, you got yourself a black eye.

that meant you missed school for a week because you couldn’t possibly show up looking like that.  tanya told everyone it was because you got grounded and sent away to church camp after your parents caught you in bed with one of the neighbors.  so now your reputation was ‘sleeps with football players and old men.’

only brock had been there for you.... but it turned out he had motives of his own.  you had originally planned to wait until college, but brock was clearly wanting something in return for putting up with dating pariah #1... so you let him take your virginity.

the condom broke.  when you dashed to the trash can to hurl in the middle of history class, you knew something was wrong.  (and lost that many more social points in the process.)

brock dumped you the second he found out you were pregnant.  didn’t even help you pay for the abortion.  he got back together with tanya and told her the real reason for your ‘medical absence’.  and that was the last straw for the former homecoming queen.

the humiliation drove you to some.... poor choices, for the next few years.  you tried not to think about them now, but it was hard not to when their consequences were staring you right in the face: no money, no job, nearly homeless, and desperate.

over a hundred job applications later, only one had called you back and scheduled an interview.  and you only needed one.

so there you were, waiting in the chilly lobby area while the receptionist typed away and chomped her gum, tapping your toes and glancing out the window occasionally.

you were surprised when you had been told your interview would be on the 51st floor.  you sort of assumed it would just be some random manager interviewing you, not somebody important enough to have a waiting room like this, or a view like this.

when a man stepped out from the nearby hallway, your eyes went wide.  he was tall, and handsome, and obviously muscular underneath the exquisite suit.  you suddenly felt underdressed in your hand-me-down business clothes.

then he called your name.  and you realized he was going to interview you.

you stood up and nodded.  “you can follow me to my office,” he instructed with a smile, leading you down the hall to the corner office.  you were in awe of the grandiosity of it all.  you were dumbfounded when you saw CEO on the door.

“there must have been a mistake,” you explained as he shut the door behind you.  “I... I’m just interviewing for an entry-level position.”

“no, there’s no mistake,” he shook his head, “I have you exactly where I want you.  take a seat.”

he circled his desk and sat on the other side of it, resting his elbows on the desk and giving you an oddly smug smile.  an awkward silence was finally broken when he realized, “you must not remember me.”

“I... have we met?” 

“I don’t blame you, I look pretty different,” he shrugged.  “I must’ve grown a whole inch this summer.”

you gave him a confused look before realization dawned on you, along with shame, and fear.

“oh... oh my god, Steve?!” you squawked.  he just grinned.  “you look... you look...”

“taller?”

sexy.

“you look great!” you said aloud instead.

“yeah,” he agreed, “wish I could say the same for you.”

you swallowed dryly.  “so that’s what you want,” you sighed, “to get back at me.  I understand.  I deserve it...”

“I don’t want revenge,” he denied.  “I’m just sorry to see you haven’t been... thriving, since high school.  your job history--” he scanned your resume briefly-- “well, you don’t have one.  have you been slumming it all this time?”

“without my parents’ money?  yeah,” you admitted.  

“surprised you applied here, instead of turning tricks on 5th and Columbus.”

your back straightened and your eyes went wide at that comment.

“I mean, you’re already dressed for it,” he smirked.

you stood up and crossed your arms.  “if you’re just going to insult me, then I’ll leave now.  I’m sorry for everything I did to you, steve,” you announced, voice shaky with oncoming tears.

“can you really afford to leave?” he pressed.  “if you have a chance at a job?”

that, unfortunately, got your attention.  “you... you might actually offer me something?”

“I will offer you something,” he corrected, “if you just sit down and listen.”

you relented, returning to your seat.  you could stand a lot more insults if there was money on the line.

“to be honest, there’s no way I can hire you for the position you applied for,” he sighed.  “you’re just underqualified.  but I think I can create a position for you.”

you liked the sound of that.  “what kind of position?”

“well, that’s tricky, seeing as you don’t have any skills,” he frowned, “except one.  so that’s the one I plan on using.”

the look in his eyes made it all too clear what he was referring to, but as you shrunk into the leather chair he went ahead and clarified.

“I’ll pay you whatever salary you saw in the ad.  but you won’t be doing data analysis or office management or anything like that.  all you’ll be doing is spreading your legs for me whenever I fucking want.”

fear shot up your spine; his eyes were devouring you, pinning you to the chair, and you tried to process that.  “I--”

“before you say anything,” he interrupted immediately, “let’s just be perfectly clear that this might be your only shot at a real job.  what I’m offering has better pay than stripping, and better benefits than hooking.  and unless you have any education or experience I don’t know about, you’re totally fucked.”

“seems like I’m fucked either way,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“see, you’ve still got that sharp tongue,” he grinned.  “can’t wait to put it to better use.”

maybe it was just desperation for cash.  maybe it was because he was good-looking and you could do a lot worse.  maybe it was because, on some level, you felt like you deserved his punishment after how horribly you’d treated him.

“I’ll do it,” you sighed.  “when do I start?”

he stood up and reached across the desk to grab your neck, glaring at you.  “right now.”

his free hand was already fumbling with his belt, the one on your throat guiding you downwards.  “on your knees,” he instructed, and you slipped out of the chair and onto the floor.

he let go of your neck and you figured he was going to come to you, but instead he stood still and demanded: “crawl.”

debasing as it was, you crawled on your knees to his side of the desk, and he laughed at you bitterly.  when you reached his feet and popped back up, you gasped at the sight of his hard cock right in front of your face. it was bigger than your face.  and it was dripping precum.

“don’t get so bug-eyed, you can handle it,” he grinned.  “if your mouth’s as big as I remember...”

you didn’t want to hear any more.  you just wanted to get this over with, so you quickly took his head between your lips and started to suck.  you were shocked when he slapped you, hard enough to knock his length from your mouth and to make you reach up and clutch your stinging cheek.

“fucking whore,” he grimaced, “did I say you could put it in your mouth?  god, you’re so fucking desperate.  just open your fucking mouth and I’ll show you what I want, okay?”

you nodded and stammered an apology, looking up at him with watery eyes and an open mouth.  he swiped the latest drop of precum on your tongue before gliding his cock over it, grabbing your hair to keep you steady as he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

“fuck, that’s better,” he sighed.  “so much better when you just do what you’re told.  I remember how you used to be so cruel with this mouth.  now you’re being so welcoming...”

you just sat there and let him use your mouth, trying not to gag when he hit your throat.

“look up at me,” he instructed, “yeah, that’s it.  can’t have you forgetting who’s doing this to you, now can we?”

that went on for a bit longer until mascara-stained tears streaked your face, which he seemed rather proud of.

“damn, wouldn’t mind having you swallow my come right now,” he admitted, “but I have bigger plans.  get up, bend over my desk.”

you coughed briefly when he pulled out, but did as you were told.  he instantly yanked your skirt up over your ass and spanked you several times roughly, making you sob and whine.

“wanna see this ass all bruised up in the shape of my hand,” he explained.  “so we can both remember how hard I fucked you.”

he tore your panties like they were paper, chuckling when he found you already wet.

“dripping already, just from choking on my cock?  poor baby...”

you spread your legs slightly, though you were sure nothing was going to adequately prepare you for his size.

“you figured out how to use birth control since graduating, right?” he asked, and you nodded quickly.  “good.  cause I’m not using a condom,” he continued as he let his cock glide over your folds, groaning slightly, “and there’s no way in hell I’m pulling out.”

he pushed forward in one brutal stroke, making you cry out loudly.  you really hoped these rooms were mostly soundproof.

“shit, you’re tight,” he hissed, already pulling back and thrusting back in.  “clearly you recovered from your years of slutting it up in high school.”

“that-- that wasn’t true,” you defended.

“oh, just shut up,” he growled.

he fucked you fast and deep, his hips pushing yours into the edge of his desk with each thrust.  his hands pinned you down at your shoulders, another reminder that you were entirely at his mercy.

“fuck, this is just what you needed... somebody to put you in your place.  makes sense that it should be me, since you hated me so much.”

“I didn’t h-hate you,” you hiccuped. 

“yeah, you wanted me, didn’t you?”

“always,” you admitted.

“wanted my fat fuckin’ cock to tear up your pussy?  is that it?”

“yes,” you moaned, “yes, steve, wanted to be yours.”

“even when I was skinny and short?”

“even when you hated me,” you added.

he growled slightly and you felt your walls tighten around him suddenly.  he chuckled, clearly aware that you were enjoying this.

“you want more, baby?  want me to fuck you harder?”

“whatever you want,” you answered instead.  “just use me however you want.”

he moaned and leaned down to cage your body in with his.  “fuck, baby... you’re taking this better than I thought you would.  such a good girl for me, huh?  such a good little slut.  want me to use you, baby?  take all my anger out on you?”

“yes,” you whispered, sobbing when he began to fuck you more brutally than you thought possible.  but it felt good.  so good that your legs were shaking, so good that you felt even better when he tugged your hair.

“yeah, gonna come on my cock, aren’t you?” 

you nodded and bit your lip.

“m’ close too,” he admitted, “you’re gonna be so full of my come, it’s gonna be dripping down your legs when you walk out of here...”

your orgasm made your body shake and your eyes roll back.

“fuck, I can feel you coming,” he groaned, “fuck, just like that-- fuck!”

you felt his warmth fill you as his cock flexed against your walls.  you were busy trying to catch your breath when he slumped down on top of you and pushed the air from your lungs.

“damn... didn’t think I was gonna come that fast,” he sighed.  “see what you do to me?  fuck, I knew this was a good idea.”

sure, it felt good, but you were sure he was only going to get rougher and meaner the longer this went on.  you couldn’t imagine how you were going to get out of here without somebody noticing your wrinkled clothes, messed-up hair and, as he’d pointed out himself, come all over your thighs.

“guess I’ll see you at 8am tomorrow, huh?” he chuckled, giving you an unexpected peck on the cheek.  you couldn’t answer, though, interrupted by the phone on his desk ringing.  “oh, sorry, gotta get this.”

he reached for the phone and picked it up, bringing to his ear all without pulling out of you or even lifting his body from on top of yours.

“bucky, hey,” steve grinned as he spoke into the phone, looking down at you and stroking your hair, “you’re not gonna believe who I ran into today...”