#psychological damage has been taken

[cryptidanimecatz]

Just watched Made in Abyss: Dawn of the Deep Soul last night and...simultaneously do and don't want to talk about it.

[lunarharp]

when an obsessed orufrey person plays ace attorney for the first time in a while

[hxneylavendxr]

im excited to see phantylia again and what form she takes on next...

[pepprs]

life would be so much better if i wasn’t so absolutely fucking depleted and exhausted all the time lol

[crushmeeren]

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

࿐ take this 🍧 to keep you occupied while you browse ࿐

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Hoshina’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Mating runs are boring and common where you come from. You’ve taken part in more than you can count, yet no one has been able to catch you and the thrill’s worn off. You’re on the verge of giving up completely when someone new joins your pack. It startles you when you realize that you’re about to be in for the mating run of your life.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Bakugou’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ You’ve danced around each other since you were kids. It didn’t start that way, no, it only developed into something more once you turned into teenagers. Once you’ve both reached 21, it’s no secret who you’re deliriously hoping will pin you down during your first, and only, mating run.

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ knotting, breeding, scent kink, biting/marking, fighting as foreplay, a/b/o dynamics.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Shinsou’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Hitoshi is the only other vampire that works at the bar with you. In fact, you’re two of the only vamps in town. It’s kind of isolating, but you have each other to lean on. You’ve resisted sleeping with him for fear of losing you’re only vampire companion, but when the shitty drunk regular takes it too far you and Hitoshi decide to…. “take care of him”. And each other.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Inumaki’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Being the only vampires in your specific group of assassins, you and Toge get contracted out and sent into a vampires only club to pose as a couple and hunt down your next non paying target. Someone must slip something into Toge’s drink to distract him, because the next you know you’re being dragged into a “private room” and riding Toge until your thighs burn.

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ biting, blood play, exhibitionism, sadism/masochism ish?, mild body horror, etc. full versions have all the warnings!

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Touya’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Touya’s a regular at the coffee shop you work in. It’s in a seedier part of town and nobody bats an eye at the villain who stops in every night before close. He never speaks to you after he orders, winking and smiling eerily until the hair on the back of your neck stands up. But he’s the least of your worries. There’s someone wearing a ghost face mask who’s been stalking you after every shift. It’s been going a lot longer than you care to admit. Maybe it’s because, in a twisted way, you kind of like it?

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Megumi’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Megumi’s your boyfriend, but he’s a bit too obsessed with you. He starts pretending to stalk you at night while wearing a demon mask to drive you even further into his arms and see him as your protector. It backfires when Megumi doesn’t realize that you found out it was him almost immediately. Nevertheless, you’re going along with it because you’re just as obsessed and delusional about him.

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ hints of hunter/prey, stalking, mask kink, breath play, knife play, a mixture of degradation and praise, yandere vibes.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Kirishima’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Boys fucking suck. Especially when it comes to sex. When you come across a forum of other women who have dealt with this problem, the word incubus catches your eye. After spiraling down a rabbit hole of what and how to obtain your own incubus, you think you’re getting a demon who’s dark and mysterious who can satisfy you. You end up with a demon that has the sun shining out of his ass. Although, he still ends up being way more than satisfying.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Kenma’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Kenma, according to you, is the laziest and worst incubus you’ve ever worked with. As a succubus, you work twice as hard as he does and still he ends up wreaking more havoc and causing such an insane amount of psychological damage that it causes your blood to boil. When you confront him about it, Kenma’s apathetic as usual. Then he shows you why he wears the crown. What a fool you were.

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ light bondage, choking, size kink, biting/marking, praise kink, rough sex, anal sex.

⇣ ⇣ ༄ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ༄ ⇣ ⇣

Whether you’re into monster fucking or something creepier, I’ll be feeding you little bats well this year. I do hope you’ll take a look around and find something that interests you.

I can’t promise these will all be super long since I’ve decided to torture myself and use two characters for each prompt, but I can promise they will be written to the best of my ability!

For the record, I will be writing these as 𓐩 ⋆ FEM READER ⋆ 𓐩. I hope this doesn’t disappoint anyone, but this is what I’m comfortable with and I’m not changing my mind.

That being said, cross my heart and hope to die I’ll put my blood, sweat, and tears into these! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

master list link

[astroninaaa]

wtf is going on with cellbit - by a brazilian law major student

hey besties ever since the day cellbit released that PDF i’ve been keeping up with his shit bc as a law student (only two years to go!!!!) in brazil it’s kinda really interesting to see how it goes, specially since i don’t think we’ve ever had this sort of judicial action taken by an internet celebrity, like, ever. so i’ve decided to kinda explain what’s going on. if anyone has any questions after this i’d be really up to talk about it i love talking about law 🫶 xoxo let’s start. also sorry if anything reads weird english is not my native language okay

for those who don’t know, very recently, a judicial action taken by cellbit has made public. in this action, he’s suing over 200 people for the crime of defamation.

the action was taken to court in january, but it was under what we call “secret of justice”, which means only cellbit himself and twitter’s lawyers had access to it. now that there have been decisions by the judge and everything, the process’s been made public.

basically, cellbit started an action against twitter (NOT THE PEOPLE WHO COMMITTED THE CRIME YET), citing a little over 200 tweets that accused him of crimes like SA, psychological abuse, pedophilia, and others. all of those are real crimes in brazil — and accusing someone of committing crimes (specially as awful crimes as those) without proof is a crime in itself (defamation). he claimed that the tweets were harmful to his honor, mental health, and reputation, besides categorizing as defamation, since there’s no investigation going on against him for all these infractions he’s being accused of.

with that, he asked twitter to delete all the tweets, and to provide him with the personal information of said twitter accounts so he can sue them directly for defamation. he did these requests through something called “tutela cautelar”, which means the judge gets to decide whether or not twitter has to do these things before proof production and proper investigation, since, if twitter doesn’t do those things, the damage to his honor and reputation will be ongoing + he won’t be able to sue the proper people in time.

the judge conceded to his requests, and twitter has already deleted all the tweets. the main discussion going right now is wtf do they do about the international accounts — does our law apply to them? what’s gonna happen? we don’t know yet. that’s being discussed in court for the moment and, considering brazilian courts, it might take quite a while.

so, yeah, all those people aren’t being sued YET. but they will, probably somewhat soon.

it’s also important to mention that this lawsuit is from january and was only now released to the public. there’s probably a lot more coming after the whole fiasco that led him to releasing his statement, including a lawsuit against his ex herself.

now, other topics — could he sue other twitter accounts for cyber bullying or death threats? probably, but my personal opinion is that suing for defamation and focusing on accounts that were accusing him of having committed crimes was a much better move because it’s a much stronger case.

there’s very little room for discussion when a person has outright said “cellbit committed this crime”. death threats have more room for discussion: “oh, but they’re hundreds of miles away, it wasn’t a serious threat”, “they didn’t mean it”, “it was a joke”. same thing goes for cyberbullying: it can get too subjective.

defamation isn’t subjective. you accuse someone of a crime they didn’t commit? boom, defamation, at least according to our laws. so, to me, personally, it makes a LOT of sense for his lawyers to focus on that: he’s a LOT more likely to win than if he was suing for cyberbullying, threatening, insult, or any of that. also, he’s a lot more likely to win FASTER.

when he gets to sue the actual people who committed the crime, that is. for now, he’s only requested twitter to give him the necessary information to get to these people, which i think they’ll very likely be obligated to do. there are digital data protection laws in brazil, but a crime is a crime. digital data protection isn’t gonna protect you from the court.

another thing: LGPD (brazil’s general law of personal data protection) forces all social media companies to keep records of all the content posted by their users for AT LEAST six months. many companies keep it for way longer. that’s a law created for judicial purposes, in case something published to twitter, facebook, or instagram needs to be analysed by a court. that’s why even tho twitter has deleted the tweets, they still have them, and why it doesn’t matter if the people responsible are deleting the tweets, the accounts, the fucking app itself. the records are still there, and they will be used judicially.

i think that’s the overall for the situation, but i’m willing to answer any questions and to discuss it if anyone wants to! i’m a big law enjoyer. also personally i think cellbit is so fucking right for this like YEAH people don’t get to commit fucking crimes on twitter and get away with it. really interested in how this is gonna go law-wise, but in general also really glad to see someone take action like this.

[odinsblog]

Game of Thrones stars and other actors read South Africa's case file charging Israel with genocide at the International Court of Justice.

Transcript:

It was already known that repeated exposure to conflict and violence, including witnessing and experiencing housing demolition, combined with Israel'siege of Gaza since 2007, is associated with high levels of psychological distress amongst Palestinians.

Indeed, the United Nations Security Council Resolution 2712 expressed its deep concern that the disruption of access to education has a dramatic impact on children and that conflict has a lifelong effect on their physical and mental health.

This disruption and its dramatic impact on children must be considered in particular and in the context of the number of Palestinian students and educators who have been killed, 4,037 and 209 respectively, and wounded, estimated at 7,259 and the number of Palestinian schools having been damaged or destroyed 352 or 74% of the schools in the whole of Gaza.

Medical professionals assess that the health effects on all Palestinian children, women, men, older people, people with disabilities and people marginalized identities are immense.

An emergency coordinator for Médecins Sans Frontières interviewed on her return from five weeks in Gaza, describes: It's even worse in reality than it looks. The amount of suffering is just something incomparable. It's really unbearable. I'm speechless when I try and think of the future of these children. Generations of children who will be handicapped, who will be traumatized.

The very children in our mental health program are telling us that they would rather die than continue living in Gaza now.

The extreme levels of bombardment and lack of any safe areas are also causing severe mental trauma in the Palestinian population in Gaza.

Even before the latest onslaught, Palestinians in Gaza suffered severe trauma from prior attacks. 80% of Palestinian children experienced higher levels of emotional distress, demonstrating bed wetting, 79% and reactive mutism, 59% and engaging in self harm, 59% and suicidal thoughts, 55%.

Eleven weeks of relentless bombardment, displacement and loss will necessarily have led to a further increase in those figures, particularly for the estimated tens of thousands of Palestinian children who have lost at least one parent and those who are the sole surviving members of their families.

For the families who remain intact or partially intact, quote, “It's about doing everything you can so your child doesn't realize that you've lost control.”

There are reports of Israeli forces using white phosphorus in densely populated areas in Gaza.

As the World Health Organization describes, even small amounts of white phosphorus can cause deep and severe burns, penetrating even through bone and capable of reigniting after initial treatment.

There are no functioning hospitals in the north of Gaza in particular, such that injured persons are reduced to waiting to die, unable to seek surgery or medical treatment beyond first aid, dying slow, agonizing deaths from their injuries or from resultant infections.

Large numbers of Palestinian civilians, including children, have reportedly been arrested, blindfolded, forced to undress and remain outside in cold weather before being forced onto trucks and taken to unknown locations.

Medics and first responders in particular have been repeatedly detained by Israeli forces, with many being detained in communicado at unknown locations.

Videos published by Israeli media on Christmas Day appeared to show hundreds of Palestinians rounded up inside al-Yarmouk football stadium in Gaza City, including children, older people and persons with disabilities, being forced to strip to their underwear in degrading conditions. United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian affairs, or UN OCHA, reports video footage showing bruises and burns on the bodies of detainees.

Images of mutilated and burned corpses, alongside videos of armed attacks by Israeli soldiers are reportedly circulated in Israel via a Telegram channel called, 72 Virgins Uncensored, billed as exclusive content from the Gaza Strip.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This one's the first of many doozies. I recommend you clock out now if you think the following will distress you: mentions of rape, but no scenes or explicit description. If not, read on! Chapter Title is from Rebel Rebel by David Bowie.

Word Count: 7.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Your first mission is delivered, and it goes about as expected. Contains usual tags, emphasis on mention of rape/non-con.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

When your team stepped into the safe house, you could see the moment the smell hit their noses.

“Merde,” Frenchie was the first to speak, a poor omen within itself. “What the fuck am I smelling?”

“Uh, probably the milk and meat. They’re the strongest.”

Annie said your name carefully, watching your reaction as she spoke. “What happened.”

“He wouldn’t put away the groceries.” You said with a shrug. You were over it. It was like, ten bad things ago.

“So you just. Left them out?” Hughie said, seemingly baffled.

“Yeah.”

“Mallory said she delivered them on the first night.” Annie glanced between you and Hughie.

“She did.”

Hughie’s eyes widened further. “That was almost two weeks ago.” When you just nodded in agreement, he pushed further. “They’ve been out the whole time?”

You frowned. “He doesn’t get to win.”

“What are you, five?” 

You just sighed, giving Hughie a pleading look. “Don’t tell MM.”

“What?” Butcher taunted from the back of the group. “That he was right, and you can’t handle Soldier Boy?”

“I thought you were on my side about this.”

“I’m on the side of the truth, Love.”

Both you, Annie, and Frenchie let out huffs of amusement at that claim, with Hughie looking sheepishly amused.

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Annie gave Butcher a pointed look. He only winked in response, leaving her to turn back to you with an eye roll.

“Has it been like this,” Hughie gestured vaguely around him. “The whole time?”

“Nah. Worse.”

Really, hell would be a better word for it. After the knife incident, there had been the toilet paper incident, which you had won, the coffee incident, also your victory, the laundry incident, point Soldier Boy, the TV incident, point you, and the Lord of the Rings incident, another point Soldier Boy. The Elton John, Jimmy Carter, and Rockefeller Center incidents had ended in stalemates akin to the Cold War, but should those fuses reignite, you were sure you could take them home. Overall, you’d burned him seven times, he’d thrown two chairs at you, you tossed shit in his face once and threatened castration on fifteen separate occasions, and he had offered to sleep with you thirty-one times.

“He hasn’t, he hasn’t hurt you. Right?” Hughie wasn’t fully looking at you when he asked, his voice soft and nervous.

“No. I mean, he’s tried. Not in… that way, but I’ve had a few things thrown at me. All the physical violence died out around the laundry incident, though. Now we’re using psychological warfare.”

“Laundry incident?” Hughie said at the same time that Frenchie said, “Psychological warfare?”

“Don’t ask.” Was your response to both. You’d avoid revisiting the laundry incident in your mind for the rest of your life if you could help it, and the actual practice of your warfare was more childish than you’d like to admit.

“Well, as lovely as a reunion this has been, we need to talk to you both. Where’s the cunt,  anyway?" Butcher craned his neck to look down the hall.

“Probably moping around in his room.” You shrugged. “Let’s talk in the living room, standing at the door is weird.”

While the living room hadn’t taken even close to as much damage as the kitchen, it had not escaped you and Soldier Boy’s sparring unscathed. Books provided by the CIA, which were mostly stereotypical classics, had been upended from their shelves and strewn across the floor. The TV was still intact, as was the sofa, but the former was stuck on PBS, and the latter was, at this point, compromised of 70% trash.

“Holy shit,” Hughie muttered as he stepped over a copy of Catcher in the Rye. “You can’t plan on living like this the whole time?”

“Well, if America’s number one man-baby would stop moaning and bitching about his glory days, then maybe, yeah.”

Annie gave you a concerned look. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll castrate him.” Though the threat had now been made sixteen times, it never satisfied you less to say it.

“I’ve told you, Sunshine, if you did that, you would only be hurting yourself.”

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained over you with tense gazes. You turned to find Soldier Boy almost directly behind you. “I’ve told you, by definition, I’d only be hurting you.”

He gave a mocking pout. “Wouldn’t that plague your perfect little conscious?”

“I’d live.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Prude.”

“Manwhore.”

“Whiny Brat.”

“Waste of space.”

“Waste of good pussy.”

“Waste of government money.”

“Waste of Compound V.”

“Pathetic, assfaced Dickwad.”

“Stuck up, pretentious Ice Queen.”

“Geriatric, entitled, blue-balled G.I. Joe Fuckdoll”

The room had practically vanished around you as you and Soldier Boy fell into your now well-tread path of insults. Your blood was burning with that feeling, aching to burst across the room as both of you glared hard enough to, fingers crossed, kill the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Hughie said, breaking you out of your own spell.

“What are they doing here?” Soilder Boy asked, somehow having only just clocked their presence. “Do I finally get to do my job and leave?”

“No,” Annie answered. “We have no way of knowing how long you’ll be here at this point.”

“That’s what I said,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your team.

“Yeah,” Soldier Boy said at full volume. “And I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Will you get off my ass about it now?”

“I think you like me on your ass, Sunshine. My offer never leaves the table.”

“Cunt.”

“Bitch.”

“Helpless man-child.”

“Prissy tease.”

“Glorified propaganda poster-“

“No,” Annie cut it. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Party pooper,” Butcher grumbled. “I was hoping they’d kill each other this time. Then we could just go home.”

“Well, did you at least bring me drugs?” Soldier Boy seemed to search the room, as if a pile of weed and coke would miraculously appear on the floor amongst the mess of wrappers and fluid-filled paper towels.

“We’re not buying you drugs with government money.” Annie said, giving you a look of apology. “As I’m sure you’ve been told.”

“Many times,” you affirm under your breath. You’d had to hide the glue on day five, which had let to the toilet paper incident on day six. A day had not passed since where you didn’t catch him trying to turn a new household object into something to snort.

“I thought weed was fucking legal now.” Soldier Boy glared at you, as if you were personally responsible for the CIA not buying him blunts. “It’s a free fucking country. I should be able to smoke whenever I damn please.”

“Porn is legal,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean the federal government is going to bring you some.”

“If they brought me porn and weed, I’d be far more open to whatever shit you want from me.” He winked at you.

“We gave you that last time,” Hughie pointed out, shifting nervously. “It barely helped.”

“Will you be a good little supe if we come back with porn and weed? Because we can go and-“

“No, we need to do this now.” Annie spoke over Butcher, and you noticed a line of worry on her forehead, along with Hughie’s nervous fidgeting. Though Butcher didn’t seem plagued by an anxious tell, he relented to Annie faster than you’d ever seen, and alarm bells went off in your head.

“Annie,” you bit the bullet, asking softly. “What is the ‘this’ you need us for?”

She gave you an apologetic look. “Trial run.”

“Trial run?”

“We’re giving you a test, Love.” Butcher said with a smirk. “See if your little experiment is even viable. Maybe take out a player in the process. All depends on if you and him,” he jerked his head to Soldier Boy. “Do your jobs right.”

“I don’t need your little ‘test’ to know if I can do my job.” Soldier Boy snapped.

“Last time you failed,” Hughie muttered.

Frenchie nodded in agreement. “In a spectacular manner, yes.”

“Because that bitch and that pussy stopped me.” An angry scowl was thrown at Annie and Butcher, who returned it and grinned widely back respectively.

“You were going to kill a kid,” Annie said coldly.

“He shouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”

“The line of fire? Do you hear yourself? Do you really care about others so little that-“

“I’d do it again,” he snapped back, unbothered by Annie’s disgust. “You don’t get to ask me for help and get mad when I do.”

You gave Butcher a pointed look. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

Though all you got in response was a grunt from Butcher, Soldier Boy’s eyes shot to you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You returned his glare, steeling your own eyes to match his interrogating gaze. “We’re removing the ‘kill a kid’ option from your choices. You want to know why we’re stuck here? Because you fucked it last time, and we won’t let you fuck up again.”

“You won’t let me?” He sneered, leering at you coldly. “You don’t let me do anything, Sunshine.”

If the “Sunshine” thing continued to stick, you might have to throw yourself off a roof. But you didn’t flinch, just tilting your head mockingly. “You wouldn’t need a shock collar if you hadn’t bit the hand.”

“I wouldn’t bite the hand if it hadn’t tried to kill me.”

“Nobody tried to kill you, Mate.” Butcher interjected. Soldier Boy’s anger switched back to him with fists curling at his side, but Butcher kept talking with a bored drawl. “You shouldn’t have bloody fucked up.”

“And, like I said,” you shrugged. “It won’t happen again.”

“If I see the shot, I’ll take it. Whether you like it or not.”

Looking into his eyes, you believed him. No doubt fogged your brain that, given the opportunity, Soldier Boy wouldn’t hesitate to take out Ryan Butcher with Homelander. Part of you, the angry and bitter part still trapped underground, understood that. But you’d see Ryan once, from afar, and he had looked so young. You didn’t have to imagine his fear or touch him to understand what it was like. For your life to change abruptly and without reason, to have to sprint to keep up with your new one. Soldier Boy had volunteered for this life. Ryan hadn’t. You hadn’t.

So, holding Soldier Boy’s gaze, you made your voice clear and steady. “You don’t get to take the shot until it’s clear. Ryan will be out of the picture before you even see Homelander.” You turned to Annie. “What’s the test?”

“Head-popper.” Butcher answered for Annie with an odd look at you. His voice carried the usual light and oddly joyful tone he used when discussing murdering supes, but his eyes on yours were quieter, with less manic vengeance than you’d seen before. If you didn’t know better, you’d call them thankful.

“Head-popper?”

Hughie jumped in at your confused frown. “Neuman.”

“Oh,” you paused, looking over Hughie’s worried face. “We’re going after Neuman?”

“Who the fuck is Neuman?” Soldier Boy asked with a reluctant grumble. You had picked up on his consistent annoyance with new things after you’d found him screaming at the microwave three days ago, and not knowing new people didn’t seem to be any different.

“She’s a supe who can pop people’s heads like balloons.” Frenchie gestured in imitation for effect. “It’s disgusting.”

“And she’s the VP elect, which would put an ally of Homelander in the White House, one step from the Oval Office.” Annie said pointedly, giving Frenchie a look. You offered him a small smile over her head. Though the demonstration hadn’t been helpful, watching his hands fly around mimicking Neuman’s powers was undeniably entertaining.

“She's dangerous,” Hughie added. “But she’s not a bad person. We don’t want to kill her, just remove her powers.”

“What do we need her for then?” You didn’t have to look to know Soldier Boy’s accusation was directed at you. You bit your tongue, trying to ignore the way the words seeped into your skin.

Because he’s right. A cruel whisper said into your ear, and the itch on your skin began to feel like a rash. You were saved from the plague of your thoughts—the urgent feeling to fall prompted by almost nothing—by Butcher.

“If you think you’re going anywhere without her, Governor, you’d better get used to being wrong. She’s there for the same reason she’s here. So you don’t go postal.”

Soldier Boy gave you an unreadable look as the rush of your heart in your chest slowed from Butcher’s words. You turned away from him, but you could almost feel his eyes through your skull as you looked at Butcher with a blank face.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, praying it would be simple, with as few people as possible around and, ideally, in the middle of a desert filled exclusively with fire extinguishers.

“MM and Kimiko are doing recon on one of Bob Singer’s rallies. Frenchie will create a distraction for the secret service, and Neuman’s personal detail is going to suddenly disappear-“

“Disappear?” You interrupted Butcher with raised eyebrows.

“Keep your panties on, they’ve been bribed. Once she’s isolated, Soldier Boy’ll blast her, and we can all go home confident in your little gambit.”

You hesitated, trying to imagine the last political rally you’d seen. Group of people in tight groups, electrical wiring for microphones, speakers, and lights. Gates and closed doors, hallways leading out onto streets. “How are we going to isolate her?”

“Me and Butcher will work on that,” Annie said, almost reaching for you with a reassuring pat, but thinking better and jerking her arm back. She opened her mouth, an apology certainly on her, but you raised your hand to cut her off.

“How long until we leave?” You asked. Maybe they’d say ‘three hours’ and you’d get to talk to someone who didn’t think swing music was sonically viable for a bit.

Hughie checked his watch. “Ten minutes ago.”

“Ago?” Your eyes widened.

He gave you a sheepish look. “We thought it would take less time to get you.” He turned to Soldier Boy. “Your suit’s in the van. I can bring it out-“

“I can change on the way.” Soldier Boy grumbled, ignoring Hughie’s start of sputtering protests. “Let’s get this over with.”

———-

Much to his annoyance, they had forgotten Ben’s shield, and nobody would let him change in the van. He tried several times, only to be met by a chorus of groans, shouting, and swearing. He had listened to their complaints only because she had started giving him a look he recognized as a flag for a storm of uncontrolled fire. No hot disgust or sparks of rage, only a cold and quiet, almost glassy-eyed stare. Her heart steady but her breathing too fucking controlled to be natural, measured so equally that it sounded mechanical. So, because he figured she would only become more bitchy to live with if she incinerated her alleged “friends”, Ben stopped trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Once he did, the van fell insufferably silent. The edged pleasantries and conversation he’d overheard during Butcher and his band of Assholes arrival had ceased save for tense questions and hushed conversations. Ben didn’t fail to notice all the spineless avoidance and careful words directed at them both. She, even after the foggy look faded, remained curled into a corner, trading small and toothless smiles with her team. More timid than he’d seen her before, almost like a scolded child as she looked around the van nervously. Her eyes watched the shadows as though Homelander himself might jump from them, the chew of her lip giving Ben a headache. The only words she spoke were a jab at Ben when he’d said something about political rallies post-election being fucking pathetic—giving him a lecture about American politics now heavily depending on something called “going viral”—only to fall silent once more after. Her team looked at her like a glass bomb, as if she was a delicate statue looming over their heads and not the vulgar, violent woman who slept down the hall from him. That woman infuriated him, testing his patience every time she opened her mouth, but this paranoid, skittish pussy of a girl was so much worse. So when the van halted and Butcher’s team began to filter out, he called her name. When she ignored him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“What the fuck!” She pulled herself out of his grip in a second, staring at him with anger. She glanced down at her arms, a look he didn’t understand crossing her face, before returning her attention to him. “Do not touch me.”

“I barely touched you,” he glowered, annoyance quickly flooding him. He had only brushed skin, with a light grip she had thrown off, there was no need to be so dramatic. “When I touch you for real, you’ll fucking know, Sunshine. And you’ll fucking beg for it. I needed to make you listen, you were fucking ignoring me.”

Her brows knit, and he heard the chew of her teeth on her tongue. “I’m not going to beg for anything, and I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I said your name, and you kept fucking walking.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She snapped, but didn’t relent. “Speak up next time.”

She knew just as well as Ben did that they were both far from quiet, pussy-voiced fuckers. And while he definitely hadn’t yelled for her attention, it shouldn’t have fucking mattered. He’d seen her pick up his grumbled insults and mocking comments just fine over the past two weeks. “Bitch.”

“What do you want?” She asked with a sigh, ignoring his jab and looking at him as if he exhausted her just by breathing. “We have to go, and you still need to change.”

“You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.” He said, not hiding the contempt from his voice. He wasn’t going to skirt around his thoughts, lining them gently to help her fucking feelings.

Her body tensed, her limbs looking as if they’d locked into place. “Like what?” Ben heard her swallow as she answered, her voice not lost enough to make her sound clueless to his words.

“Like you’re a child they have to coddle. A problem they have to deal with.”

She stared at him, her glassy-eyes returning. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, cunt-face.”

Ben snorted. “They don’t treat you like the bitch you are. They always use that sweet, pussy voice, like they’re talking to a fucking puppy, when they say something to you. They’re always all fucking pouty when they look at you, pussyfooting around so they don’t make you sad.” He gave her a mocking grin, hoping the next words landed like a bullet. “They treat you like me.”

It had clearly worked, as the van had grown hot, and her eyes were clearing as her heart began to pick up. Ben felt an odd feeling cover him as he heard it, almost familiar and sparking pride in his chest. She wasn’t a jittery shell anymore, she was going to try and kill him. It made his grin grow genuine, and the van grew only more heated, the air waving around them.

Her mouth opened, and Ben hoped whatever came out of it would be vile and crude.

“Hey!” She turned her head and clenched her jaw as someone called her name from outside, the van rattling as a fist banged against it. “We need to go!”

The door opened to reveal the Cocksucker, whose face grew quickly red, a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, as he was blasted with a quickly dying wave of heat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning from Ben as the heat dropped further. “Coming.”

Cocksucker gave her a worried look, his gaze flying quickly to Ben, but just nodded and stood aside for her to move past.

As the door closed and Ben began to change, he listened for their soft, tense words.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Cocksucker’s voice was nervous and gentle, like being suffocated by one of those fucking fluffy blankets Ben had seen in the empty bedroom of the safe house.

“No, he just grabbed me to talk. And you don’t have to keep asking me that. I’m fine, and it’s not as helpful as you think it is.” Ben frowned at her voice, the malice from it drained entirely in only a few seconds, replaced with only a tired hollowness.

“Grabbed you?! Like, he touched you?”

Having anticipated Cocksucker being more interested in the “talk” part of her sentence, or the shit that sounded like it was about feelings, Ben's brain rattled over Cocksucker’s word, his tone of panic looping in Ben’s head. He spoke of Ben’s touch as though it were a plague, and not something many people would kill to feel. Ben almost burst out of the van to say just that, but froze when he heard her answer.

“It was fast, I didn’t feel much. Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go the rest of my life without touching people.” Her voice had a finality to it, and Ben could almost picture her downturned lips and wrinkled brow.

“You touch us when you heal us.” Even Cocksucker’s voice didn’t sound sure of his response.

“It’s not the same, and you know that.”

There was a momentary stall in their words, and Ben took the opportunity to emerge, securing his belt as he walked to the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but Cocksucker looking pathetically around, anywhere but the woman as she curved into herself, wasn’t it. She held a white-knuckle grip on the sleeves of her jacket, her thumb running up and down in small movements. They both turned to him as the door banged open, and Ben caught the empty look behind her eyes before her indifference slipped back into place.

“Did you hurry me just to sit around like pussies, or are we going to start fucking moving?” He asked, the air feeling too uncomfortable to sit in.

Cocksucker blinked, glancing at his watch. “We have a few minutes until they arrive, but I guess it can’t hurt to be vigilant-“

“Arrive?” The woman’s eyes widened, and Ben saw smoke curl from her hold on her jacket. “They’re coming here?”

Cocksucker nodded. “It’s a high-security escape exit-“

“It’s a fucking street, Hughie.”

“That’s used as a high-security escape exit.” After a moment of searching the area, Cocksucker pointed a few yards down, at a large door set against brick. “Neuman will come right out of there, and her guards will close her out here, where Soldier Boy will blast her.” He paused, glancing at Ben, before looking back at the door and taking small, cowardly steps away from his spot between them.

“It’s a public area, anyone could walk past! What the fuck were you thinking?!” Her voice was hushed and agitated, and Ben had never seen her face lose color at that speed before, had never heard her heart stutter and jump as if trying to escape her body.

“It’ll be fine,” Cocksucker’s voice wavered, giving them both a nervous look. “It should be fine. MM said it would be fine.”

“You heard him, Sunshine,” Ben gave her a wink, adding a half-cocked smile when she didn’t even return him with a dirty look. “MM said it would be fine. And have some fucking faith in me, I’m not a fucking monster. I won’t blast any running pussies except for this head-popper broad.”

“You don’t even know what she looks like.” Her tone wasn’t quite the vicious mockery he was used to, but it was better than the apathetic, empty voice she’d been using. She was rolling on the balls of her feet, speaking without looking at him, her eyes moving restlessly from the door to the end of the street. “And I don’t believe you.”

Ben just shrugged, allowing the silence to hang. The wind was picking up, whistling through the chill of winter air, making the heat around them, emitting from both Ben and the woman, all the more obvious. Despite the biting cold, Cocksucker had taken off his stupid puffy jacket, even stepping back further from where they stood, with Ben in the center of the street and the woman off to the left. Despite her slowly stepping further and further back, her back now almost against the wall, Ben could feel her watching him, hear her heart continue its new and erratic beat.

“How long now, Hughie?” Her voice was raised to carry over the wind, though it hadn’t lost that stupid fucking weakness. Cocksucker, thank fuck, didn’t get a chance to respond with pathetically comforting words, as only one skipping heartbeat after she spoke a shrill fire alarm sounded.

“I’m assuming that’s your stupid French fuck's plan?” Ben asked dryly. “Start a fucking fire? I thought you pussies were all about minimal damage.”

“He probably just pulled the alarm.” The Cocksucker’s answer lacked any confident assurance. “And I think we’re just against needless murder.”

Ben almost started to rant about their so-called needless murder being a mighty high horse for a group of people who had manipulated him just as much as Vought, who’d been willing to help him kill all those backstabbing pussies from Payback so he’d help them. About how their stupid fucking moral purity complex seemed to adjust perfectly to aid them, and maybe he wasn’t a fucking angel, but he was strong and powerful—something they fucking needed—man, and he wasn’t a pussyfaced liar about what he was, what he did. The words died on his tongue, though, as hundreds of frenzied footsteps reached his ears.

“Fuck!” he growled, turning around and pointing at Cocksucker. “You fucking pussy.”

Cocksucker gave him an idiotically confused stare. “Dude, uncalled for.”

“She,” Ben pointed to the woman, whose heart was beating impossibly fast and looking on with a bloodless face. “Was fucking right. This is a stupid plan, because unless your head-popper walks like a human centipede, it’s not going to be just her that I fucking hit when that door opens.”

Cocksucker only gaped at him like a fish as the footsteps grew louder, annoyingly unsure stutters  escaping him, and just as Ben decided it might be good to slap the idiot out of his daze, the woman stepped forward.

“We need to move, Hughie. Now.” Her voice wasn’t steady, her whole body was tensed and hyper, but it held a determination Ben almost admired. “We can’t be here.”

“He- he could be fucking lying, or wrong-“

“That’s not a risk we can afford to take.” She cut off Cocksucker’s doubts, and Ben found himself surprised at her defense of him, even if it could barely be called that. Her hands were smoking once more, but she had firmly planted herself in the middle of the road, eyes turning sharply to Ben. “If people see you, any element of surprise over Homelander would be lost. We need to fucking move, you need to get in the fucking van now-“

The door banged open, and the streets flooded as hoards of people in star and stripe-themed outfits flooded the road. Everything became so loud, and that rapt, snapping sound in Ben’s head started to spread through him, spurring the drum in his chest. They were finding rhythm so fast, everything fading as Ben tried to slow it. But there were screams and shouts, and everything was getting further and further away from him while carving into him all the same, so though Ben could hear the sounds of metal clanging and shouts of his supe name, he couldn’t think anything past the beat beat beat, until he lost it all at once.

As his vision grew clear with his head, Ben expected to see shattered bodies and bloody walls. Instead, all he saw was the woman and fire. Her face was flushed red, her eyes crazed, and her clothes had become charred with holes as the fire surged from her into a barrier, cutting them off from the crowd. Cocksucker was yelling her name, urging them both to return to the van and leave, but as Ben moved, he glanced back to see the woman frozen and heard her heart as if it were his own. The wall was growing wider and shooting high, Cocksucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up about moving, but her eyes had squeezed shut, unresponsive to anything but the growing flames.

“We need to fucking go, now!” Ben turned to see a large man he vaguely recognized barreling down their side of the street, his face twisted in anger. Butcher, Starlight, a small woman he remembered fighting, and that French prick followed him, all loading into the van as the large man stopped beside Cocksucker.

“I told you he’d fucking blow it,” the man said, giving Ben a disgusted look, so flawlessly revolted Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fucking practiced in the mirror.

“Hey, I didn’t fucking blow it, you pussy-“

“You said that Neuman would come out of here, that it would just be her!” Cocksucker, much to Ben’s shock, cut him with a high voice and a wave at the wall of fire. “That’s way more than just her! Is she even there?!”

“No,” the man said gruffly. “Neuman saw Butcher and figured out something was up. She’s long gone.”

“Fuck!” Cocksucker yelled, running a hand through his hair.

“Oi, we can go over how MM fucked up later,” Butcher leaned out from the van. “We need to go before she sends Homelander.”

“How I fucked up? You’re the one who disobeyed me and blew our cover-“

“What’s wrong with Madame Anomaly?” The French Prick appeared at Butcher's side.

Cocksucker glanced at the woman, calling her name before turning to the large man Butcher had called MM. “She absorbed Soldier Boy’s blast. I think it got her stuck.”

“We don’t have time for this. Get Soldier Boy in the van, I’ll take care of the Anomaly.” MM repeated the French Prick’s words, and Ben realized they were, for the first time, using the woman’s supe name.

“You heard him, Gov. Get in the bloody van.” Butcher’s words were clearly directed at Ben, but as he climbed into the van Ben saw Butcher’s attention locked on the woman.

MM had moved closer to the woman, a move Ben deemed more fucking stupid than brave. If she had “absorbed his blast,” as Cocksucker said, he wouldn’t recommend any non-supe be anywhere near her. MM seemed to realize this himself at the last possible second, taking a pathetic, stumbling step back with a pause. He and Cocksucker exchanged a look, something passing between them that Ben didn’t understand, before Cocksucker leaned down to grab a pebble from the road. Ben watched as he shakily shook out his arms, wound up, and tossed the pebble at the woman.

It was a terrible fucking idea, Ben didn’t have to be Einstein to know that, but the chain reaction that played out still managed to go worse than he might have guessed.

The woman whirled around, her eyes blazing, with a roar sounding from her chest. Fire shot from the wall directly at Cocksucker. In almost slow motion, Ben watched her face become painted with horror as she recognized her target, a different, fearful sound leaving her. She reached an arm out, her heart seeming to falter, and barely redirected the flames before they hit Cocksucker in the chest. The blaze just grazed Cocksucker’s arm, passed the van clear of anyone else, and hit the building with a boom.

The moment the bricks caught fire and the ground began to shake as the building crumbled, the woman's wall of fire fell. The woman herself remained upright, but only barely as MM shouted her name and she started to stumble to the van. Cocksucker was hauled in by Starlight and the French Prick, the former fussing over his burnt arm—Ben had seen worse at Herogasm and nobody whined about it—and Cocksucker waved her off. The woman pulled herself in, ignoring Butcher’s outstretched hand, and the door closed behind her. MM appeared in the driver’s seat, and as the engine started everyone fell into a heavy-breathed silence.

Through the ride, Ben watched the woman open and close her mouth a million times, returned to her fetal position in the corner but watching Cocksucker with a strained face. Her hands tapped against her still-smoking jacket, reaching out hesitantly before she pulled them back into herself. No words were spoken, not even the anxious whispers of the ride there. Ben felt relief as the van stopped, MM climbing out and opening the doors to reveal the exterior of the safe house, grateful for any excuse to leave these stupid, sniffing pussies to wallow in their failure.

MM led Ben and the woman to the doors, opened them by leaning oddly at the doorbell, and gestured for them to walk through. The man followed them in, shutting the doors behind him with a rough push.

“If we failed the test, I am not doing that fucking shit again.” Ben grumbled as MM turned around from the now-shut entrance.

“Butcher told me about the fucking mess you and him made in here.” MM ignored Ben entirely, speaking to the woman as if he wasn’t even there. “A team cleaned it up while you were gone, and Mallory will send more groceries tomorrow night. I saw a picture, it was fucking gross. I’m only doing it once, because I don’t want a new disease to develop in here. You’re an adult, you should take care of this place by your goddamn self.”

The woman looked at her feet, humming a small acknowledgment. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Is Hughie going to be okay?”

MM sighed. “The kid will live. I’ll look at him when we get back.”

“I could help-“

MM cut her off with her name. “He’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

She gave another nervous hum, and Ben jumped in.

“Can you answer my fucking question-“

“We’ll let you know what our next steps are after we talk to Mallory and Singer. This wasn’t good, but it’s not the end of the damn world.” Once again, MM ignored Ben. It was starting to feel personal. Before Ben could push further, MM reached a hand out to rest on the woman’s shoulder, right over a hole in her sleeve. Her head shot up with her heart, but the panic in her seemed to evaporate just as soon as it appeared. Her name was gentle as MM spoke it, eyes locked with hers. “You didn’t fuck up. You did your job.” She nodded slowly. “It’ll be fine.” With those last words, he exited the building, leaving Ben and the woman in the hall.

“What’s his fucking problem?” Ben grunted, half directed at the woman, half to just say it.

She gave him a flat look. “You killed his family.” Before he could come up with a clever response, honest or dodging the annoying feeling of guilt forming in his throat, the woman turned from him and walked away.

———-

You were so tired. Your bones ached, oddly cold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while, your skin crawled with feverish chills, and when you closed your eyes, you could see the flames graze Hughie and the building turn to dust. As MM’s lingering calm he’d offered you faded, all you felt was tired. Worthless. A liability. You had fucked up, just as much as Soldier Boy. Maybe more so, because he had PTSD, even if he would deny being a “hung-up pussy”. He had lost control because he’d been tortured by Russians, you’d almost killed your friend and definitely destroyed a rec center because you’d been startled. You just wanted to sleep, to deal with the inevitable fight about groceries in the morning, running on more than quickly expiring adrenaline and caffeine pills stuck in your throat.

You made it to your room, changing into one of the pajama sets folded in your drawers, hoping someone mentioned that the allegedly fire-proof wardrobe you’d been given apparently wasn’t strong enough for the full force of your fire combined with Soldier Boy’s nuclear explosions. A shame, you’d liked the pants you’d chosen for the mission. You’d live without the jacket, though. You’d hardly pulled the shirt over your head when the door ripped open, a still suit-clad Soldier Boy standing at your door.

“What fucking happened to you?” His question was blunt and confusing as he entered your room, remaining near the door but over the threshold.

Your body was too heavy to fight with him right now. There was no tense prickling on the bridge of your nose, only the throbbing stab of a headache. “Go away, Soldier Boy.”

“All of you have a fucking thing. A weird, sad reason to whine around and pretend you’re better than me.” He didn’t budge, but rather leaned forward. “What’s yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said I killed MM’s family. Butcher’s always pussying around about Homelander stealing his girl. Cocksucker mentioned something about that fast asshole doing something as well. I’m not sure what the French Prick bitches about, but I’m sure it’s something.”

“First of all, you did kill MM’s family.” You really don’t want to do this right now, but maybe he’ll give up and fuck off. A fruitless wish, a small part of you knows, but you have nothing left to push back with. “And Homelander didn’t ‘steal Butcher’s wife’, he raped her.”

“Right.” Soldier Boy watched you, his expression unreadable in the shadowy room. “Those are all fucking things. So tell me what yours is.”

“I don’t have one,” even as you speak the insistence, it sounded fake and hollow.

He takes another step forward. “Yes, you do. I saw how you froze, nobody without a thing locks up like that. I heard Cocksucker ask you if I ‘hurt you’. Just for the record, Sunshine, I may not be a Boy Scout, but I’m no fucking rapist.”

“You’ve tried to sleep with me thirty-three times.”

“And I’ll blow your mind when you realize how much you’d love it, no sooner. What’s your fucking thing.”

You stare at him, the intensity in his voice throwing you off. He’s insistent, comfortable in your room but standing at his full height, attention fixed entirely on you. That impression of dissection has returned—the feeling as if he’s trying to pick you apart for him to play with. “Why do you even care?”

“Because maybe if you tell me, I can kill what supe fucked up your pretty little head and you’ll be less of a bitch.”

You can’t stop the snort that escapes you. “What a selfish fucking cunt reason.”

He shrugged in something that could’ve been an agreement. “Maybe.” He falls silent, but doesn't leave.

You collapse to sit on the edge of your bed, staring ahead as you rub your temple. “Please just go.”

“No.”

You look at him, not caring if he sees the desperation in your eyes. “Can this not wait six hours for the morning?”

“No.”

“Do you know any words but no?” You mutter under your breath.

You didn’t miss his annoyed humph. “Oh, just fucking tell me.”

“No.” It was your turn to snap. Your exhaustion was becoming lined with bitter childishness, and you didn’t care enough to try and suppress your urge to sneer at him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an idiotic, self-absorbed, sadist asshat who wouldn’t know empathy if it started sucking his dick.” You mocked.

He grinned. “Ok, now name my bad qualities.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll start guessing,” he took another step forward, now almost directly before you. “Did that red-headed lesbian steal your puppy?

You frowned up at him. “Maeve was bisexual.”

“Did Noir take credit for a college project?” He ignored your comment, leaning down with a mocking smirk.

“Trust me, I got all my dues in college.”

“Did that gay-for-Jesus blond steal your boyfriend? Did the fast asshole that stole Cocksucker’s girl break up with you? Did water-boy eat your goldfish?”

“I’ve never met Ezekiel, A-Train actually murdered Hughie’s girlfriend, and The Deep famously doesn’t eat seafood, he fucks it. But by all means, keep going.”

Soldier Boy blinked. “He fucks it?”

“Yep. It’s gross.” You shrug. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

You give a toothless smile. “Not until you get all your guesses out.”

“Oh?” There was unquestionable surprise in his voice at your relent, only making your fake cheer grow and your immature anger fully overtake you.

“I want you to feel like a real fucking asshole when I tell you.”

His face split open with a grin. “Well then, did the Twins kick you out of Herogasm? Did that bitch, Crimson Countess, overshadow your big debut? Did a Z-lister get more attention than you from the Vought pussies?”

You just raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms as Soldier Boy continued until the list of supes ran dry. As the last jeer left his mouth, he mirrored your face of cold amusement.

“Well?”

You leaned back, watching him closely as you spoke. “Homelander kidnapped me, kept me in a dungeon, raped me in an attempt to make more mini-Homelanders, and, after you returned, started experimenting on me to try and recreate the V used on you.”

A small shock rushed through you after you spoke. You hadn’t said any of that out loud, not fully, since you’d escaped. You danced around it with Butcher and his team, with Mallory and the CIA leaders, always picking and choosing parts to omit so nobody would look at you with pity and fear. It hadn’t worked, they did anyway, but there had still been control over it. Up until this moment, nobody had known why Homelander had done all those things to you. Everyone had seemed happy to chalk it up to him being a fucking psychopath, not anything deeper. Certainly not attempting to create a small army of additional Ryan Butchers. Small things were still yours, flashes of hunger and warped sounds remaining in your head, but everything else you had just told him.

Why did you do that? A voice hissed as the high from your petulance faded. Why did you let him win? Why did you give him a weapon to use that could hurt you?

But looking at him, he didn’t appear to be a portait of self-satisfaction and heartless triumph. He was staring at you, scanning you as though the scars Homelander left would be visible on your bare legs and arms. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t weak or coddling, but angry.

“He kept you locked up?”

You nod, part of you getting ready to fight him over something.

“He hurt you? To try and recreate me?” Your repeated nodding only seemed to inflate whatever was happening. “Did it hurt?”

Your arms and face started at that, an uncertain feeling spreading through you. There had been no reverent tone as Soldier Boy had asked the last question, no sadistic for affirmation. But you didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Why he even wanted to know. But an involuntarily honest answer escaped you. “Yes.”

He stared at you for another second before he opened his mouth, only to close it without making any sound. Abruptly, he whipped around and began to leave, giving you only one more indecipherable look as he closed the door behind him, leaving you on the edge of your bed, alone in your room.

You lay down slowly, half expecting him to storm back in at any moment, but minutes passed, quickly turning into a half hour, and your body sat at the edge of collapse once more. Soon it was unbearable, and you lay down, your racing mind being forced to a halt as sleep pulled you under.

Your sleep, as had been the case for a while now, was haunted by nightmares of blue eyes and yellow, fluorescent lights. You woke up in a cold sweat, and took a long, needlessly warm shower before forcing yourself to leave your room around 9:30. Despite your lingering fatigue, no part of you wasn’t restless as you walked down the stairs. Your body tense and ready to run, your head spinning with hypotheticals and lining up words you may need—that feeling under your skin creeping up your spine and fluttering in your gut. But Soldier Boy wasn’t in the living room or the hall. You poked your head in the dining room, hoping to avoid the minefield of the kitchen, but it was empty, the plastic chandelier lights off, the table occupied only by a vase of wilted flowers. You moved to the kitchen, ringing growing in your ears, but he wasn’t there. You turned to walk away, continue your search, but double-back as it hit you.

Nothing was in the kitchen. It was empty. Of Soldier Boy, and of the groceries MM said would be delivered.

You wandered in slowly, watching the counters as if they might start to glitch and flicker, revealing hidden produce and dirty dishes. But, leaning over the sink, there was a single plate, soaking in water that was dotted with crumbs. Slowly, you moved to the refrigerator, slowly opening it as you glanced around the room. Your eyes widened at the sight inside. Milk, drinks, and produce had been placed inside, disorganized and haphazardly. There was a jar of mayonnaise in the fresh drawer, along with a box of pasta on a side shelf, but the fridge was full. You moved quickly to the pantry, which had been sorted in a similar fashion, but filled. And when you opened the last cabinet, you saw a piece of paper stuck under a jar of peanut butter.

I know I did a shit job. Clean up if it bothers you, but don't bitch to me about it. And tell Mallory to get smooth peanut butter next time, or I’m not doing anything for her but killing Homelander - Ben

[ghcstao3]

(part 1 of black panther shifter!ghost)

-

Waking up in a holding cell after two years of freedom from captivity, Soap imagines, is surely disorienting as it is deeply upsetting.

Riley, since having returned to the land of the living, has done little other than pace and sleep, often refusing to eat, and, most notably, completely refusing to shift.

Unfortunately for the brass, this meant getting any sort of information—or, God forbid, getting Riley back into a condition to serve—would be a difficult, and likely time-consuming task. Not to mention extremely unpleasant for Riley, who is in a fragile state as is.

Because a forced shift is probable to cause permanent damage, psychological and/or otherwise, being that the panther, presumably, hasn't once shifted since his initial massacre. A forced shift would be added trauma to already copious amounts beyond it, and Soap could say with near certainty that such a kind of torture would not make any progress, nor encourage Riley to answer any questions.

So, they can do nothing but wait. They can all take their turns talking to him, attempting to coax Riley into a human state, but it's as much as they can do beyond running medical tests and praying for a change of heart.

The hope so far has been that maybe spending time among people will eventually help Riley push past the barriers of base instinct and come to a rational decision.

Soap visits him the most.

Still recovering from his injury, he'd been excused from the physically-demanding work that usually took up most of the time, so he often finds himself wandering to where Riley is being kept to fill those empty hours, though he's taken it upon himself to bring paperwork along to their... meetings.

For the most part Riley ignores him, keeping curled up in the farthest corner as Soap talks to him, talks about work, other things in a calm, low voice. Sometimes he'll still leave distance but peer at Soap from his position, his ears flicking from time to time almost in acknowledgement of something Soap mentions.

And sometimes, though very rarely, Riley will get as close as security measures would allow him and just... sit and listen. He'll make an array of vocalizations in response to anecdotes, and once or twice Soap swears the panther huffs and rolls his eyes like a petulant child if the captain ever so much as implies the suggestion of Riley shifting.

Then Soap begins bringing his journal, once he's slowly transitioning back to his regular duties and no longer needs the tedium of paperwork to keep him occupied—and whether it's a cause of re-conditioning or Riley's own intrigue, this seems to catch his attention, particularly once he realizes that Soap is drawing.

Truth be told, Soap has already been scribbling in entries and sketches of the shifter since he was freshly stitched-up and confined to a hospital bed. He hasn't learned much, of course, so the pictures far outnumber any conclusions—but Riley's an intriguing subject. And only in person does Soap figure he could ever remember the details of the shifter's scars interspersed in thick, black fur.

He's unsure if Riley would appreciate it, at first, but once he sees what Soap is up to, it's like a switch has flipped in his social behaviours. The first time Soap actually turns to show Riley his most recent sketch, an image of the panther stalking his prey as he had Soap all those weeks ago, Riley startles him with not-unkind chirps. A major improvement, if Soap had any say, from the usual snarls and grumbles.

They make progress again in such a fashion until they reach another halt, and nothing else has changed for a while, and Riley still doesn't do much but pace, sleep, sometimes eat, and never shift. Though, at the very least, anyone could now make the observation that his mental state has certainly improved.

By now, Soap and Riley have built up a routine. Soap will come by at the same time every day, Riley will—most days—give those panther non-answers of his, Soap will offer a sketch or two, and then he leaves, though not without imploring Riley to eat something, because he knows, beyond a doubt, that he won't have earlier. He's stopped asking for a shift, because he's come to understand that it will have to be entirely by Riley's terms.

Really, Soap has come to understand and learn a lot of things concerning the shifter, despite Riley's lack of conversational abilities.

The captain already knew, based on files alone, that Riley's behaviour did not stem from nothing—the exact opposite, in fact. He already knew that something happened to set him off, that was obvious to just about everyone, but it becomes so clear to Soap that Riley felt like he had no other choice, if he wasn't already overrun by the animalistic part of his brain by the time he made his escape. It was self-imposed isolation and doing what he thought was right, or ultimately be rejected from the society and organization that had abandoned him.

Then time went on, and he lost himself.

And Soap finds it so easy to empathize with that; with the losing of oneself; with digging that impossibly deep hole because it's self-containment or it's the harming of others.

It's a last-ditch ever to ask Riley just once more if he'd shift, once they hit that next, final, truly impenetrable wall. Riley merely stares at Soap a moment, soaking in the captain's own fatigue, before turning his back and going to lay down as far from Soap as possible.

He isn't prepared for the day Riley actually shifts.

No one notifies Soap of anything throughout the day, and nor is there any activity abuzz where Riley has been contained—so Soap can only assume he was meant to be the first to confront it.

It's... jarring, is what it is. Having adjusted so well to his expectations of seeing a black panther and not a human, it takes a moment for Soap to process the pale figure curled up against a wall, naked as the day he was born.

Despite the raw power and musculature of the panther, Riley looks so small. And so terribly, heartbreakingly young. His eyes, however, which appear when he hears the scuff of Soap's shoes against cool cement, look withered, haunted. Far more aged than he physically is.

"You've finally shifted," Soap remarks.

Gradually, Riley unfurls himself, all his scars still so stark on his skin. A large Y-shape is carved into his chest and down his stomach, the scar still pink and puckered and gnarled after at years of healing. The recognition of its nature is not at all a happy revelation.

Riley opens his mouth to speak, but a frown is quick to etch itself onto his face with the frustration of being unable to conjure any words. That is about the only thing that doesn't surprise Soap about this.

"Give it time," he assures. Soap lingers a moment longer on his assessment of Riley and that scar, before collecting himself and clearing his throat. "Let's get you some clothes, then, aye?"

Silently, Riley nods. That piercing, mismatched gaze is still somehow just as predatory and calculating as it is in his feline form.

There will be, beyond a doubt, a lot more work to do.

But for now, Soap heads off to fulfill his promise—and maybe let Price know what's happened on his way.

[acapelladitty]

all wrapped up

Pairing: Edward Nygma/Jonathan Crane

Summary: With Edward fully and willingly restrained by a straightjacket, Jonathan takes advantage to give him what he needs.

Fic Masterlist ☆ Link To AO3

Edward’s last plot to outwit Batman had been a disaster.

Not only had he failed in his plans, but the public nature of their eventual confrontation had resulted in Edward’s defeat being broadcast across Gotham with many openly discussing how embarrassing such an event would be for the one getting their ass beat. Even though he had successfully escaped to lick his wounds and try again, the fallout of Edward's failure was undeniable.

Humiliation, disappointment, fury; all emotions which were the pre-cursor to Edward spiralling deep into an emotional blackhole which would often result in a severe depressive episode.

At times, Jonathan felt more aware of Edward’s needs that the other man would ever suspect and, in moments like this where Edward’s most self-destructive tendencies were at their peak, what he needed was a release and Jonathan was always more than happy to provide as he kept stock of Edward’s more dangerous psychological quirks.

The straitjacket which crossed his arms and held Edwards hands tight against his chest allowed him absolutely no protection from Jonathan’s punishments. While Jonathan mourned the opportunity to inflict some damage on Edward’s sensitive chest, the way in which Edward desperately tried to roll away from his punishments – only to be playfully pushed back into position with his back against the floor – was delightfully humiliating as Jonathan insisted on using his foot to do the rolling.

The thick plug which filled his ass and pressed cruelly against his prostate had almost been Edward’s undoing. Even with the use of Jonathan's fingers, each added digit making Edward grunt and howl as he had found himself opened up mercilessly, the girth of the plug has still taken a considerable amount of lube and rough persuasion to be swallowed up by Edward’s twitching hole.

“Edward,” Jonathan called out softly, his voice a snare as it attempted to loop around Edward’s consciousness, “are you listening to me, boy?”

At the lack of response, Jonathan bent down at the waist and drew his hand across Edward’s cheek, admiring the way that colour immediately rose in the struck skin as it flushed a delicious pink. For a man who prided himself on being an enigma, he was a truly simple creature where base pleasures and sensations were concerned and his body betrayed him at every turn.

“Jonathan.” Edward replied quietly, the shock of the strike bringing him back a little more into himself as he floated in the bliss of subspace – the painted welts which decorated his ass and upper thighs a constant source of heat and discomfort as they rubbed against the rough carpet with every pathetic writhe of his body.

“Will you take more? Let me use and abuse you until you're screaming for mercy? Will you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes.” Stuttering, Edward’s expression was slack and open – the pain of his earlier punishments having long pushed him deep into an almost hypnotic lull which Jonathan was monitoring with careful eyes. “Do what you want wit-with me.”

“You couldn’t handle what I want to do with you.” Jonathan muttered, rolling his eyes to the ceiling despite the way his cock twitched at the earnest submission.

Moving past the temptation, Jonathan brought his hand down sharply and Edward yelped in shock as his cock took the brunt of the slap. His body visibly jerked as his knees attempted to come up and protect his groin but they were easily knocked back into place by Jonathan’s foot as he once again bent to slap at Edward’s cock with an almost playful casualness.

Ensuring that the tips of his fingers caught on Edward’s straining length with every hit, Jonthan built up a casual rhythm, each slap randomly paced to ensure that it caught him by surprise, and the noises which escaped Edward’s throat were deliciously raw as his cock quickly reddened and, somehow, even stiffer under the relentless attention.

Stopping only to roll Edward over with no effort whatsoever, Jonathan wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug and tugged on it roughly, pulling it free until the widest part stretched the rim of Edward’s ass painfully – the sensations making Edward’s legs kick out as he groaned into the carpet – before shoving it back in with a sharp, hard push.

Pleased with the audible response - a choked cry which skirted the questionable lines between pleasure and pain - the predatory delight which always made Jonathan’s cock twitch as he soaked in Edward’s willing submission guided his words as he settled in to expand their session until Edward’s release was as complete as he could handle.

“That said, let’s see how far we can push you this time, boy. There's depths to your pathetic depravities that we have yet to fully explore."

[milolunde]

So, Sonic Forces! … again. Posts like this will be put under Forces!RW from now on, just so I can keep things together.

Following this post, I’ve been thinking about my reimagined Sonic Forces a lot. It’s high up on my list of things to rewrite, but… that list is quite long and is made up of stories that, for the most part, will live exclusively in my head. However, I had so much fun making my last post that I wanted to make another.

I wanted to touch on an aspect of the Phantom Ruby: how it’s able to make hordes of copies at Infinite’s will.

In my mind, the Phantom Ruby makes clones with the same attributes as any other illusion. Those made to witness the illusion will be unable to control feeling, despite reason, what they are witnessing is real. This enhances the Phantom Ruby’s powers, making its illusions able to affect the world as if they were real.

However, copies are different as they can perform most of the abilities their source can, but only if Infinite has a solid grasp on what those abilities are. For example, Chaos remains in his base state because Infinite does not understand his evolution, but he does understand chaos energy and chaos manifestation, so Shadow’s copies is able to harness Chaos Spear (though its nowhere on the scale of a true Chaos Spear. It gathers available chaos energy and turns it into a weapon, but without an emerald the copy has to draw upon the natural chaos energy around it). This is also one of the reasons Zavok is so… lame, for lack of a better word, and why Infinite resigns his copy to being Sonic’s jail keeper.

Why, then, would Eggman have Infinite stop at making copies of Zavok, Chaos, and Shadow? Of course, it’s because he finds them worthy allies as they have all put Sonic in close life or death situations and all have beaten Eggman himself at least once. If they worked together, they would undoubtedly be able to take Sonic out without the need for more manpower.

But… why not copy Sonic himself after his capture? Eggman chooses to copy Metal Sonic so, with Sonic himself imprisoned, having Sonic’s speed and agility on Eggman’s side would be a valuable resource.

————

vvv Continuation + Close Ups/Textless Art vvv

————

Eggman told Infinite they should make copies of Sonic to torment the world they were conquering. Having their precious hero, or at least his likeness, working with Eggman would destroy their moral… Infinite proposed, instead, not only was it too soon to show their cards in Infinite’s full abilities, but that tormenting the world with their hero acting against them would be nothing compared to the psychological play of allowing the world to believe Infinite, a hand in the Eggman Empire, had taken him out for good. Letting a likeness of their hero wander around could work against them, influencing people to gain a “hope against all odds” approach.

While Eggman agreed, it wasn’t until after he had Infinite show him the Ruby could, in fact, make a copy of Sonic. Despite not wanting to, having the copy ended up working in Infinite’s favor. After commenting on the pest Sonic was, the Doctor agreed that, yes, looking at that hedgehog for too long was giving him a migraine; he didn’t want to imagine what having hundreds of him would do… Good. Because Infinite thought Sonic was too annoying to waste his power forging copies of him, anyway.

Infinite looked at the copy. He could appreciate the hedgehog’s indomitable spirit and his ability to ruin things. He could even acknowledge that, yes, he was enough to be the world’s hero.

Until now.

————

Five, closing in on six months after Sonic’s defeat, Tails found himself miles from his live-in workshop, the last one left after Eggman’s takeover. He managed to gather supplies before his home was invaded and made it out by his scruff on the Tornado, but she hadn’t gotten them out without taking severe damage. Still, she flew, and she landed, and Tails could start repairing her to the best of his ability. He didn’t need a plane since the sky had been put under lockdown, but the Tornado was Sonic’s. He’d hate for Sonic to find out he had wrecked the Tornado and done nothing to fix it.

While sorting out the damaged parts, Tails heard something scuff behind him… He tensed before he moved, much too caught up with the Tornado to remember he should defend himself first, worry later, when his eyes caught the source of the sound.

Impossible.

Tails didn’t think it was possible, but he tensed more at the sight of his brother, his big brother, the sight of Sonic walking idly past him. Something slipped past Tails’ lips, maybe it was supposed to be words, but he didn’t know which ones. His big brother stopped. And turned towards him…

————

Gotta cut myself off from my more story-writer way of telling this before I get carried away. Apologies! But, if I’m able to work on this more, maybe there will be a full scene in a full chapter in a full story for this? Perchance…

Shadow would appear and, before Tails could process it, would be fighting the copy down the street. Shadow’s been dealing with Phantom copies since day one of Eggman’s invasion, and he knows Sonic well enough to be able to spot a fake from anywhere.

Tails would, of course, chase after them, leaving behind the Tornado and all of his supplies. As far as he knows, it was Shadow who helped take Sonic down in the first place and he’s ready for answers as to why, and answers on how Sonic got back, and why they’re fighting again, and…! Well, a lot of answers!

By the time Tails gets there, Shadow would have already taken the copy down; it’s on the floor, lifeless, and starting to disappear. Tails would launch himself at Shadow, claws and teeth bared, kicking and scratching out of everything he’s thought and felt about Shadow for the last five months, but Shadow would easily subdue him. Tails is tired, and hungry, and most of all he’s devastated.

Once Tails is able to hear anything Shadow tries to tell him, he would tell Tails about the fact Eggman is generating copies. Shadow has a certain soft spot for Tails, especially in his current situation, so while the scene would be to get information about the Phantom Ruby to Tails, it would also serve to give him the comfort he needs, and closure that no, Shadow didn’t hurt Sonic and, no he’s also not looking for him but, if he hears anything, he’ll let the kid know.

————

I don’t know if I’ve said it, but I’ve got a biiiiig list of media I’ve rewritten entirely in my head for fun and that usually means I have the most barebones chapter layout for them and even some ‘first drafts’ for certain chapters; like this hypothetical chapter!

That’s it, really. I had fun talking about Forces and showing how I would do things! I tend to get carried away a lot when I’m writing about the things I like. I really didn’t plan to write this post out the way I did. Hopefully the difference between my presenting the concepts and writing them out for a more entertaining read of what I would do wasn’t too confusing.

[pruneunfair]

Manhwas except the villainess is the protagonist.

Groundhog Duchess, FL: Rhyse Sinclair. Tone: psychological horror (Not your typical reincarnation story)

Rhyse has achieved everything she could've ever wanted, she found a loving family, she has supporting friends, the woman who schemed for her downfall is dead, and now she's married to her husband Cliff as the new Duchess Rudwick! Until she woke up in her bed, the dates set back to where she started, living in her abusive family home where she laments that it was just a dream.. and then her dream comes true! Finally, she's achieved the happiness her dream foretold. Right after her wedding night she wakes back up, in her childhood home with her abusive family. It keeps happening over and over, no one believes Rhyse when she tries to speak out. There's something pulling the strings, something keeping her from speaking on her accord. She begins to avoid the Rudwicks, hoping that it would end this teasing nightmare but no matter where she goes, she always ends right back into Cliff and Killians arms, back to being tormented by Edith, back to a life that will always be taken away from her right when she's at her highest and with each passing time, she starts to lose more of herself and becoming more and more spiteful and bitter. Will Rhyse finally be able to put an end to this cycle and achieve a happy ending that lasts forever with her unexpected ally?

the flowers from another world, protagonists: Robelia and Aisha Tone: Comedy (Divorcing my tyrant husband)

Aisha had it all. She was the pampered consort of the tyrannical Alexandros and on her way to becoming the next empress, a major improvement from her boring life in Korea. She never wanted to leave, that is until mysteriously all the love and attention she would bask in has disappeared.

The once quiet and obedient empress Robelia was all of a sudden Alexandros love again! One by one Aisha starts to lose everything, all her allies turned on her and none of her endeavors had a chance to succeed not to mention Robelia has been nothing but insufferable the entire time. When Aisha finally confronts Robelia on her sudden change in behavior the two argue further until Alexandros shows up. Much to Aishas dismay, he only assists Robelia but somethings odd.. Robelia doesn't seem to be enjoying ANY of the attention..? Huh, odd. Who wouldn't want to be adored by a man who would do ANYTHING for you? Well it turns out Robelia is also from the same world as Aisha and she's been acting the way she has so she can divorced and live away from the nobles. The women come to an understanding in their commin goal and as frenimies they go on misadventure after misadventure to restore Aishas plot powers so Robelia can easily get divorced and leave. But the more time Aisha spends with Robelia, the more she sees from her point or view and she starts to wonder if Alexandros is even worth it?.

Two birds on a wire, FL: Claudine Van Brandt, tone: drama+tragedy (cry or better yet beg)

As far as Claudine could remember she was reminded that everyone has a destiny to fulfill in the aristocracy and hers was to marry and bear heirs. All Claudine really wanted in life was a carefree one where she got to live in luxury and enjoy the finest of all so to please her family and live her ideal life at the same time, she chooses a long time acquaintance, the Duke of Berg, Matthias Herhardt. Despite her fiancé's strange behavior Claudine was fine with how things were until she starts to notice Matthias take an interest in someone else.. the niece of one his employees and a girl she knew back then: Layla Llewellyn. Suddenly everything begins to feel as if it's falling apart. Claudine guaranteed luxurious life is now at stake and she's willing to do what it takes to achieve it! But what about Layla? No, why should she care? She's the one who's wreaking Claudines home, if she'll become collateral damage then she deserves it for flirting with someone else's man.. until she learns of what kind of psychological damage Matthias is inflicting on Layla, Claudine terrified now: if she marries that man then who knows what he'll put her through, screw her luxurious life and her families desires she needs to escape now!.. but not before she breaks Matthias and Layla up and free the poor girl she wrongfully accused, that is if Claudine isn't already too late.

the human saintess, FL: Diana tone: romance+ self growth (For my derelict favorite)

Diana is a saintess of common origins, with no one reconginizing her due to her lack of status a miracle in the form of two handsome men grant her the chance to finally use her healing powers for the good of the common folk, all seems well until one of her friends Cael reveals that he killed their enemies for her in the name of love. It seemed sensible at the time that she rejected him harshly and told him to leave. With only one man left she chooses Helios as her husband and becomes the crown princess. Now that she's a noble, Diana must learn how to act as one even if it means restricting some of her power to the poor. All Diana wants is to be accepted, to finally receive some payment after all that hardwork she'll even ignore news on Cael if she has to, he must be doing better anyway now right?. Well, not exactly. By ignoring any news about him Diana never realized that Cael had attempted suicide more than once, but what could she do? By the time she finds out she also learns that Caelus is married so it should all be fine.. until Caelus's new wife Hestia keeps harassing her for her faults, she just won't leave! But Diana can't say anything, she's the saintess! She HAS to be good.. but to who? The nobles or the commoners? Why can't it just easy for once!?

Slowly but surely, Diana will learn that even if she's a saintess, she's still a person and as a person, she makes mistakes, some big and some small. If she wants to get any better she has to make things right. Starting with the people she neglected below.

into the dark forever, FL: Marianne Edenverre, tone: self destruction.

All her childhood Marianne had been nothing but bad fortune. Her mother treated her terribly and even living as the 5th princess did little to differentiate from her previous homelife. All her new half siblings refuse to treat her as human for her status as an illegitimate child except for the 4th princess Alisa, the bright bundle of joy that made her feel welcome.However, a single person cannot make up for the mistreatment, especially if that person is the star of the family. Why can't Marianne have that? Who does Alisa even think she is!? Is she taunting her? Marianne won't stand for that disrespect, she suffered enough hasn't she? When is she gonna get her paid her dues? If God won't pay her then she'll just have to steal it herself so Marianne summons a demon to give her the help she needs. All of a sudden, everyone loves her! She's the star of the show and now Alisa is the scapegoat, finally, now the 4th princess will know what it feels like to be ostracized but when that doesn't work, Marianne decides to just arrange her death instead. There, no more Alisa, she's finally the most adored girl in Edenverre... wait, Alisa has been reincarnated into the princess of a enemy empire? Well Marianne can't let that stand idly by, she needs to get rid of Aisha de Elmire now, no matter what it may cost.

Project Leila, FL: Yvonne Eckart, tone: coming of age tragedy.

After getting lost during a festival, Yvonne loses her not just her brothers and father but her sense of self, she had been possessed by the goddess Leila and its been relentless in its pursuit to possess her. Yvonne waited and waited for her father to come and find her, she wouldn't let Leila break her spirit but when she finds her father taking another girl in as her replacement, Yvonnes heart drops and she almost loses all hope and Leila almost succeeds.. but Yvonne is able to snap out of it at the nick of time, it was a close call but the pain of abandonment never did go away. During the remaining years, Yvonne never bothered to go back home anymore, they seemed to like that purple haired girl anyway and surprisingly Leila wasn't so bad to talk to as it was the perfect being to vent to. Day by day Leila keeps trying to trick Yvonne into letting it possess her but she always stands her ground and declares that she'll never affiliate herself with the likes of the goddess. But when Yvonne is found and arrives on Penelopes coming of age ceremony, it becomes tempting. All Yvonne saw was the girl who stole her life but the real monsters may have been more close to home then she thought. Just how toxic did her family become and will she be able to resist Leilas temptation?

The concubines woes, FL: Diane Poitier, tone: female rage+self reflection (I will abdicate my title as empress)

Diane Poitier had been a patient girl. After losing everything at a young age she had been determined to never let that happen again when she becomes the Emperors concubine. He has no wife, she's is the owner of the Ivory palace, and she resembles his deceased mother, the cards should have all fell in place, but they never do. The Emperor instead marries the crown princess Adelaide of Kotrov. Just like that Diane feels everything crashing down around her so she makes an enemy out of Adelaide, belittling her and trying to drive a wedge between the new married couple so she can return to the escapism of knowing she's the Emperors one and only. Yet with all the grievances she causes, Adelaide never sees Diane as an enemy, if anything the empress is the kindest to her then anyone else has ever been, one side of Diane wants to keep pushing until Adelaide snaps but the other is weeping so much it can't come up with the words. Why is she even doing this? What will this get her? Will the Emperor even marry her at all when he gets divorced? Why is she being this way to the one woman who has shown her kindess?These are the nagging questions the keep Diane up at night.

Divorcing your husband, FL: Sumin Jeong, tone: comedy (Marry my husband)

Sumin will never admit it but she's been a snake in the grass for most of her life, she can't stand seeing her friend Jiwon happier than her so what better way to ruin her life then to sleep with her husband while Jiwon is terminally ill? Well.. Karma inevitably catches up to Sumin and she is killed by the very same man she slept with after he accidently murdered Jiwon to eliminate any witnesses. Instead of waking up in heaven or hell, Sumin is back 10 years ago! Does she even deserve this? Of course she does! How could someone so deserving like her not? It turns out though that she lost a little something along the way.. her charisma! It's been stolen the moment Jiwon died and when Minhwan killed her. Without her cutesy baby act no man will just crumble when she says "Oppa!" Sumin actually has to work for what she wants now, and the only 2 men who are still willing to adore her are her killer and older co worker who has a thing for her childish talk, jeez were her co workers always this terrible? Whatever, she'll play into Minhwans hand for the time being.. after all, she could use a little life insurance from him.

Golden cage, FL: Rashta Ishka, tone:tragedy+female rage (remarried empress)

The tragic tales of a girl sold into slavery and the men who take advantage of her. Most strived for beauty but Rashta hated it, her beauty was a curse and it drew in all predators who wanted to take a bite out of her. The first man who fell for her was one of her masters who currently raises their child, the second is the Emperor of the empire who loves her like a hunter loves their trophies they caught and the third is the most charming yet manipulative of them all. During the duration of one year, Rashta navigates the life of a concubine and later empress. The ladies in waiting hate her for displacing their empress, the men desire her for her innocent beauty, her former master blackmails her, and her idol: the empress won't even turn an eye to her direction, her only hope is to keep going with her role of the prey Sovieshu caught. Keep acting cute, keep speaking in 3rd person, she doesn't even have to learn much etiquette if it means Sovieshu will find it charming. Slowly, she is picked apart by everyone in her life and the only people who could've helped her have been pushed away. There's no saving Rashta, she's already trusted too many of the wrong people and made too many mistakes but maybe when her children grow up and learn their mothers story they'll be the voice to put an end to slavery and grant the next generation the future she always wanted.

Aim for the throne, FL: Isabella de Mare, tone: suspenseful drama (Sister I am the queen in this life)

Isabella may be her families favorite but that alone isn't enough. She knows her worth as a woman only means so much and as much as she loved her mother, she refused to end up like her as a de-facto wife of a mere cardinal. No, if she only mattered for her beauty than Isabella was going to use it to it's fullest: she wants to become queen of San Carlo, but when her half sister Ariande comes to live with the family, the new competitor meant buisness and had already earned their fathers favor much to Isabellas annoyance. What was supposed to be a subtle warning is quickly figured out and it turns out Ariande isn't as dumb as Isabella thought. Throughout the years that follow, both sisters clash and plot to rise up the ranks. Isabella becomes a renowned beauty engaged to prince Alfonso and Ariande becomes reserved but most devoted to her religious studies, earning her privileges with the clergy. This has been Isabellas most formidable foe yet and she's willing to go to lengths of murder to secure her destiny as queen of San Carlo. Little does she know.. the golden rule cares little about beauty.

Black widow, FL: Krista, tone: thriller drama (remarried empress)

Out of all the ways it could have happened why this?, Krista was already deposed of her position of queen as expected when her husband died but with her positive reputation with the people and her brother in law remaining single, Krista was confident she'd stay as the beloved queen of the west. Oh, Heinrey brought in the former empress of the east to be his wife? Well she can't be shocked, the kingdom does need heirs after all, Heinreys starting to establish his fiancé as queen already? It's fine.. maybe he'll let her stay with them instead of sending to her to compshire to mourn for the rest of her life besides, she'll always have her loyal ladies in waiting. Wait no.. most of them are already defecting from Krista to the new queen.

Krista is losing everything and her foolish family isn't helping her case, all she has left is the peoples support for her but even that is fleeting!? What? Of course.. his majesty has stated he'd fill the mouths of those disrespectful to the new queen with rocks and sew it shut, it must've scared everyone into submission. Everything is on line now, Krista's father is continuously pushing buttons he shouldn't be pushing and when Krista's brother attempts to kill Navier, all fingers point to her as his accomplice. If Krista wants to clear her name she's gonna have to play the hard way and put on an act like she's loyal to Heinreys new wife and hope that the Heinrey doesn't execute her to protect Navier.

[mariacallous]

An air raid alert has just started when Victoria Itskovych joins a Zoom call from Kyiv. “It’s, like, a usual situation,” she says. “But really, it’s not usual.” February 24 will mark the second anniversary of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. For nearly two years now, Kyiv has been under bombardment. Some weeks, people have to trudge to their shelters night after night, checking text alerts and Telegram channels to figure out where the missiles are falling and when it’s safe to come out—although, it’s never really safe.

That relentless stress, and the trauma of losing family, friends, and colleagues on the front, has taken its toll. A poll by the city government last year found that 80 percent of residents reported symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has exposed the whole of Ukrainian society to battle shock. “We’ve all suffered from this,” says Itskovych, who is director of the Kyiv City Council’s IT department. “Almost every person has somebody who was injured or died during the war, or lost their home or lost their health.”

In the face of such widespread injury, the Kyiv government has turned to Ukraine’s now-famous civic tech infrastructure for help. As the war enters its third year, the municipal government is starting to build a citywide system for providing mental health support to citizens. It’s a vast challenge, but also a unique opportunity—the first time that such a mass-trauma event has happened to a society that has already built the tools of digital government. Dealing with the mental health impacts of the invasion will be absolutely vital to keep society resilient, functioning, and committed enough to repel the invaders. It’s also the key to Ukraine’s postwar recovery, laying the groundwork now for a society that can rebuild itself physically and psychologically from the horrors of war. “This is the future of our society,” Itskovych says. “We are building the basis for the resilience of the community itself.”

At the heart of the plan is the Kyiv government’s digital platform, Kyiv Digital, which it launched in 2017. Before the invasion, it was largely used to manage parking and public transport, and to notify residents of disruptions to services such as road closures or power outages. When the war began, those notifications became more urgent: incoming attacks, the locations of bomb shelters, and the safest routes to reach them. Like other parts of Ukraine’s civilian technology, the city pivoted its tools to keep people safe and support the war effort, bootstrapping and rewiring the systems at pace.

“The first changes to the notifications we did in hours,” says Oleg Polovynko, adviser on digitalization to Kyiv’s mayor. Since then, the digital teams have been engaged in a constant cycle of innovation, trying to figure out what services they can bring online. The war has pushed them to act more quickly, to adapt tools they have and invent things that don’t exist.

They’ve expanded tools for civic participation, letting citizens vote on petitions, send feedback to the city government, and ask for help, such as financial support to repair bomb-damaged homes. And they’ve collected a lot of data, which is how the Kyiv government has been able to measure the scale of the city’s distress—and people’s reluctance to seek help. Of the 80 percent of residents who show signs of trauma, “40 to 45 percent are afraid to have contact with doctors who can help,” Polovynko says.

But this is only half of the problem that needs solving. For those who do want to seek treatment, there simply aren’t enough resources to help them. Clinical psychologists are supposed to limit the number of patient consultations they do in a day, so they don’t burn out. Before the full-scale invasion, Inna Davydenko saw a maximum of four patients daily. Today, Davydenko, a mental health specialist at the City Center of Neurorehabilitation in Kyiv, sees twice that number. When we speak, she’s just finished a video call with a soldier stationed near the front, whom she’s helping cope with stress and anxiety.

Even before the war massively increased the number of people dealing with trauma, depression, and anxiety, Ukraine’s medical system suffered from an underinvestment in mental health provision. “In most hospitals, you have maybe one psychologist. In good hospitals, it’s maybe two,” Davydenko says. “A lot of people need psychological help, but we can’t cover everything.” There is simply no way that the current system can grow to match the enormous jump in demand. But, Davydenko says, “almost every Ukrainian person has a smartphone.”

This is exactly what Polovynko and Itskovych want to exploit, using Kyiv Digital’s platforms and data to digitize mental health support for the city, and so close the gap between need and resources. Their project will focus first on those they’ve identified as being most vulnerable—war veterans and children—and those most able to help others: teachers and parents. The next six months of the project will be a “discovery stage,” Polovynko says. “We need to understand the real life of our veterans now, of the children, of the parents, what’s their context, how they survive, what services they use.”

The project will track people through the process of recovering from trauma, monitoring the treatments they ask for and the ones they receive, their concerns as they move through the mental health system, and their outcomes. Once the team has a detailed map of services and bottlenecks, and data on what’s working and what’s not, they can match individual needs with treatments. A full roll-out is scheduled for early 2025.

“It doesn't mean that the whole chain of the service will be absolutely digital,” Itskovych says. Some patients may be directed to group therapy or one-on-one meetings with psychologists, others will be given access to online tools. The aim, she says, is to create efficiency, to close the service gap, but also to provide comfort, meeting people where they are. “For a big part of our clients, there is more comfort with getting the service online, in different ways. Some people are not comfortable meeting a specialist one-on-one; they prefer a digital way to get the service.”

The project is being supported financially and operationally by Bloomberg Philanthropies, a charitable organization created by former New York mayor and Bloomberg founder Michael Bloomberg. James Anderson, head of government innovation at the organization, says that the project comes at a critical time for Kyiv, where people continue to suffer even though global attention has shifted away to other crises.

“There's always a tremendous amount of attention when the immediate crisis hits,” Anderson says. “But mayors continue to have to deal with the human costs of crises, long after the newspapers have turned to new subjects. That’s certainly what we sense and see in Kyiv.”

The size of the challenge in Kyiv is clearly daunting. But, Anderson says, there are reasons for optimism. Cities have got better over the past two decades at responding to common crises, such as Covid-19, which also required rapid, mass digitization of services. “Every crisis is distinct and different, and awful, in its own way,” Anderson says, “but there are lessons learned.” The Kyiv government, and Ukrainian society more widely, have demonstrated a capacity for rapid innovation to meet urgent needs, and Anderson hopes that success in this project could see it replicated internationally. “This is not the last war. This is not the last crisis,” he says. “I think Kyiv has lessons that they can share with cities around the globe.”

For Kyiv, and Ukraine, the crisis won’t end when the war does. “Psychological health is the number one problem for Ukraine,” Davydenko says, before correcting herself. “Number one is Russia, number two is our psychological health,” she says. “PTSD is our future.”

[anakinskywalkerisfave]

Hello! I want to ask you something about Star Wars. What's your opinion on "love isn't attachment" interpretation of the Jedi Code that has been going around?

I think it’s a misrepresentation born out of an effort to make the Jedi Order seem perfect, instead of the noble but flawed institution that we see in both Disney canon and the Star Wars EU. It is a blatant disregard of both the general canonical and legends continuity that the Jedi Order did not allow love. Love is a type of attachment, at least in the Jedi's eyes, otherwise they would not be separating young children from their families.

And no, if the chosen one is doing just fine with his latent force powers, I don't think they're recuiting toddlers because they would otherwise "have no control" and be "a danger to others." Take that crap somewhere else, because I'm not buying it.

If they don’t care about loving people (ie your birth family), then why do we never see Jedi (aside from obvious exceptions like Anakin or Ki-Adi-Mundi) mention their family or keep in any form of touch with them? Why would they accept only very young children? Notably children whose memories of their time with their family would largely or wholly be lost due to childhood amnesia*, and therefore would not remember their attachment to their families and the love of their family. Regardless of whatever media tries to retcon the no love thing as love being acceptable and that attachment was a different thing, the most important canon (the movies) does not support this at all.

(*Childhood amnesia refers to the inability of most adults to recall memories from before the age of 3-4 years. It also refers to the fragmentation of memories from early childhood, especially from the ages of 3-6. This is paraphrased from the Wikipedia article on the subject.)

Also, if love (platonic or romantic) actually is allowed, then why would this official movie poster for Attack of the Clones exist? (Someone on youtube literally tried to argue with me that despite it being an official poster, it “didn’t mean anything." 🤨 By that logic, a movie advertised as R-rated can be assumed to be appropriate for children. Jedi apologists are truly dedicated to spiting their English teachers and anyone who tried to teach them about critical thinking or analysis.)

Bonus Round: Star Wars EU Edition

(read the paragraph on the right, starting at "Love is also a strong passion," and I also suggest reading the character's annotations on the side.)

They literally explain love is forbidden. While they say "those who obsess," in practice, it applies to any love, not just obsessive. (Also, it is a parent's job to prioritize the needs of their child. It's not "obsession" to put the child first, that's what you're supposed to do.) They are literally being told that wanting to contact their birth families is a cause of concern and that any attachment will cause you to "lose sight of your path" and are a cause for expulsion from the Order.

Once again, they are not allowed to connect with their birth families. The HoloNet calls it monstrous because it is. Separating a child from their parents is incredibly damaging, especially in early childhood*, (the age of recruitment into the Jedi Order) which is obvious, but this is the same fandom where I see people try (and fail) to justify child soldiers and using a slave army.

Sources about the detrimental effects of separating children from their parents:

https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/article/psychological-damage-inflicted-by-parent-child-separation-is-deep-long-lasting/

https://news.stanford.edu/stories/2018/06/psychological-impact-early-life-stress-parental-separation

This excert is from a section called "Misperceptions of the Jedi" from The Jedi Path: A Manual for Students of the Force.

"This charge springs from the pain of emotional attachment. It's also technically false." If I had my child taken from me and had no way to get them back, I don't give a shit if you have legal authority. You are effectively a kidnapper. The child isn't being removed from their parent's care because of abuse or any other legitimate reason. It's because they want to indoctrinate them and it's far easier when they don't remember anything before being taken to the temple. So they don't have a pesky attachment or concern for their mom left in slavery, for example!

Anyway, Luke's Jedi Order from the EU >>>>>> the old Jedi Order

[thymejot]

Interesting that Rio did not leave the third trial.

She wants to hurt Agatha. Make her bleed, wants Agatha to suffer. But only at her own hands.

Seeing the juxtaposition of her delighting in Agathas pain and protecting her from the things that can hurt her. Delicious!

Did she stay so she could tear Agathas mother into pieces for the bullshit she spouted about Agatha being born evil. For the way she psychology damaged Agatha at such a young age into believing she was nothing, evil and only worthy of death.

Ironic in that case, if Rio turns out to be death. They do seem to deserve each other.

From what it has been shown, Agatha has no control over her siphoning powers. A witch must attack her first and continue to attack her.

Agatha pleaded for her mother to stop.

So, who was the very first to attack Agatha that caused the witches to turn on her? What would cause a mother to destroy her own child?

The sound of a young Nicolas begging his mother to stop. Did he attack her, and she accidentally took his power as well? Or was he pleading for something else?

Agatha is a selfish, manipulative, brilliant witch. But no one is born evil.

She carries the same scars as most do. Of the cruel words inflicted by a parent. Childhood trauma undealt with. She seems to have taken those words and decided that if she is evil, she is going to be so in the most over the top dramatic way possible.

I am beginning to think that Agatha is still trapped in wandas spell. The way Patti Lupone states, 'I hated this the first time', I know she is unstuck in time a little but maybe there is more to it than that. Maybe Agatha is doing a witches road version of Wanda Vision but over and over again.

[clowncaraz-journal]

i wrote in my journal about mouthwashing and how I didnt like the approach they did. i have new thoughts in this post id like to share.

SPOILERS.

Mention of (sexual) assault and other violence in a fictional setting.

here's the original entry:

nov 20 24 1:06am

i don't get the hype or the appeal of mouthwashing beyond the exaggerated retelling of five people; a naive kid, a cynical old man, a manipulative rapist, a neutral captain, and their unqualified nurse. it begins when they realize their freighter is the last of their kind and their company will be letting them all go. the old man has been here for decades, and the kid is too happy for his own good. the rapist was already hinting at pinning himself onto the nurse by his inappropriate alone time with her during psych evals. the nurse is then sexually assaulted. the captain knows and takes responsibility too late. the rapist knows that the captain knows. the rapist crashes the ship on purpose to pin himself as the hero and make himself captain. said rapist them destroys and forces every single crew member to kill themselves or get killed at his mercy, leaving the mangled and charred captain to suffer in a cryo pod, frozen for 20 years. rapist claims he had taken responsibility while forgetting to do the one thing like acknowledge he raped a woman and got people killed. said rapist takes his own life. the captain is the only living one, and survives for decades in agony. the game is not that hype. it's deeper messages mean something, but fail to breach the curtain of simplicity they were trying to tear down. i believe even if they didn't want it to be torn, they put too much attention on trying to make the player feel as though they are guilty alongside said rapist rather than having the second playthrough explain it all again. Needs more dead air and to play with the character models a bit longer to provide any "psychological damage" or sensation that people claim. other than that, they got their bag, and they got a game that at least makes sense in the first few minutes.

That was initial response to the gameplay and the hidden secrets in general. I've watched/played it over and over to find new things I didn't have time to and honestly. I have a bit more complicated feeling.

Mouthwashing could have been better. I'm planning on making my own story based around the game's premise but not directly related or even about it. I think I wanted something unique and not what happened. I don't believe Curly should be responsible for cleaning up the mess that Jimmy left. I don't think Jimmy should have been the main perspective of the game. I don't think Anya should have been dumped and rendered useless so quickly. I don't think Daisuke should have died. I don't think Swansea should have been there. I don't believe the story is finished though.

I am a firm believer that anyone should be held responsible for what they do and that person shouldn't be treated with respect until they do. Jimmy is this case. I have no feeling towards Anya's character nor do I think she should have been written to just be the victim. She was written in a way where her only purpose was to point out how bad Jimmy is - not to ever have her exist as a character on her own. She had lore but she was just a vehicle to showcase how bad Jimmy would be as a character.

I believe that Jimmy did this: He had past violent behavior that Curly was subject to at multiple points before and during the trip. He assaulted Anya because he could. When he found out that Anya told Curly, he knew Curly was going to get him in trouble. Curly was taking responsibility, and does it so much in fact the mere fact that he would do it in this case made Jimmy crash the ship. Knowing that if he set the ship into an accident, Curly as the pilot would rush into the cockpit and try to take responsibility for it again. to fix it. "I will fix it." Jimmy exploited Curly and disabled him as punishment for Curly's ability to be "too" responsible. For not being quiet. Jimmy planned to make sure that the only person who knew about the rape was him, and horribly treated the ones who did know so that they would suffer for their knowledge. When dealing with Swansea, he neglected a lot of interpersonal ideology between him and Daisuke to the point where he completely tried to have a "I will fix this" moment in regards to sending Daisuke up there will clear knowledge that Daisuke was going to likely be injured. He injured the boy so he could have his Curly moment. When Swansea kills Daisuke, that drives a further wedge where he realizes now that he can't do Curly's job because Curly was a good person. He was going to get Jimmy fired, he was going to take responsibility for Jimmy's faults, he was going to do everything in his power to fix it. But he knew about all of this too late. He knew about the assault and the pregnancy and what Jimmy did a few minutes before the ship crashed. And that's what Jimmy wanted. Jimmy overlooking everything he did to everyone besides Curly was him acknowledging not that he was actually in the wrong but that he wasn't a good captain of the ship. That's all he took responsibility for. That he was horrible at maning a ship. Nothing else. He didn't care about Curly, he was physically assaulting Curly the entire game. He cared about Curly knowing that he would be the "hero" by killing himself and "saving" Curly. That's it.

The issue with all of this is perspective. The way the game does it is that the player starts with Jimmy and ends with Curly, but the middle is Jimmy. I don't like this approach simply because it does what most psychological horror games do and tries to teach the player a message by pinning the blame on the character (by extension, the player). They shame you. you have to take responsibility for something you didn't do, but what you allowed to happen, silently implying that Curly has to take responsibility for letting Jimmy (the 1%, the dead pixel) be ignored because of the bigger picture (the 9.99%, the bigger picture.) I don't believe Curly let him slip through. Curly was ignorant to his own treatment from Jimmy. This is to say that Curly was a victim - an afterthought to Jimmy. Anya was not more of a victim because she was sexually assaulted. Equally, their troubles of being physically harmed are important.

Just because Curly was willing to be around Jimmy doesn't mean he was comfortable. It doesn't mean he was happy. It doesn't mean he wanted to be his friend. To me, he had a choice and was stuck on a ship with him. When Curly asks Anya, "was he angry?" It isn't just him being Curly, it's him consoling her because he KNOWS what it's like to be at the end of Jimmy's wrath. He knows. Just because he's captain, just because he's a man, just because he's a problem solver - it doesn't mean he's invincible to the narrative that is Jimmy's manipulation. Jimmy being upset at Curly taking all of the attention is not just him being jealous, it's him looking for a way to break down Curly so he'd give HIM more room knowing that Curly would be passive towards him because he HURTS him.

I would have loved to see all of this game through Curly's perspective. A 5 hour max game with no music, altered sound, minimal movement, and tiny details. You get to be a bystander to a story you unwilling helped to unfold by being an abuse victim who's choices were to either be passive or fight. And you knew you couldn't fight him. Being passive is a flaw not because it makes you horrible but because horrible person make you passive. And if Mouthwashing was like that, I'd 100% feel a lot more understanding of the hype surrounding it. It would have taken more of my attention, more of my thoughts, and made my actually think about how people are more likely to squeeze themselves in rather than be let it by others. Jimmy did not fall through the cracks, he forced himself through the pathway by molding the people around him into things that contrasted him, all so he could feel better when he pointed out how bad they were at their jobs (telling Anya she's not a good nurse, doubting Swansea's capabilities, pushing Curly to the side as if he was the worst...)

But yes, please tell me more about how Curly is the worst man to ever exist.