#s: two faced reboot

[deercliff]

Silo is still trying to get their footing in their new college town when they catch the attention of the basketball team's star player.

It's here! Have you ever wanted to read a porn comic by me? Well now you can, for the low low price of 4 dollars! This is a college AU of the characters from Two-Faced, but reading that is not required to read these. Get your big titty jock gf Janice content TODAY!

[ceroseis]

⋆⁺₊ ༄ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 . . . megumi fushiguro

nsfw ◞ minors dni ┊ ‧₊˚ word count : 800 cw ┊ ‧₊˚ gn!reader, college au, oral sex (m!receiving), praise, petnames (baby)

thinkin' hard abt being tsumiki's college roommate. feelin' oh-so guilty abt having a big fat crush on her little brother. as an upperclassman, you should be guiding him through his first semester of sophomore year, not blowing him in your shared bathroom while she sits on the couch, one deadbolt lock away.

megumi looks so pretty from your special place between his legs— pants shoved haphazardly down his thighs, ruddy cheeks and midnight black hair stuck to a sweaty forehead, lips bitten a beautiful cherry red in his attempt to quiet himself.

"shit-! baby, jus' like that," he hisses between his teeth, knuckles white from their iron grip on the countertop behind him.

your knees are beginning to ache, but you ignore the pins and needles in favor of doubling your efforts. as much as you'd love to take him to the hilt and watch his soul leave his body, you can't risk the noise. another time, you think. instead, your head bobs faster over his crotch, doe eyes blinking up at him as your tongue swirls around the tip.

your right hand clutches the outside of megumi's clothed calf, nails digging into black denim as the involuntary twitch of his hips threatens to cut off your air supply. he always gets like this right before he comes: his heels flex and his fingers find their way to your scalp and he'll try not to shout, but he never really succeeds and—

"ohhh my god, fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck—!"

you make sure to keep your eyes open for this part. his mouth drops open and his cheeks explode in an almost embarrassingly bright shade of red as he unloads in your mouth. that wild look in his eye is something you'll never tire of. he seems to be floating somewhere halfway between this reality and another. it never fails to make you smile.

your movements slow, but you don't pull off his cock, content to let his long, gentle fingers sweep the hair out of your face. his hand slides down to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing over the swell of your cheek. sweet, is what he is. how're you supposed to resist those flushed cheeks and whispered praises of good, so fucking good, baby, so good f'r me as he comes down from his high?

eventually, megumi's calloused palms come down to the sides of your neck, cradling your head as he guides your perfect mouth off of his softening cock.

his spend drips obscenely from your tongue, fat globs depositing themselves back onto his twitching length. a quiet giggle bubbles up from your throat at the stupefied look on his face. your hand slides all the way up his leg to wrap around the base of his dick. the other finds its way to his shaft, giving a few slow, sensual pumps, spreading his own mess over his length as it squeezes and squelches between your fingers.

you can't help but hold him over your face as you press not-so-innocent kisses to his spent balls, sucking on them one by one as your hand teases at his tip.

megumi's arm shoots out to the side to steady himself from the overstimulated buzz electrocuting the base of his skull, smacking his palm flat against the wall. he groans again, low and drawn out, and you've both fucking forgotten just where exactly you are and—

"'s everything alright, megumi?" tsumiki calls out, voice only a little muffled from the seemingly insignificant panel of wood separating you two from what would be an undoubtedly horrified look on her face.

megumi's eyes shoot open as he chokes on his own breath, mumbled curses spilling from his lips as you watch his system reboot, getting his brain back online. "y-yeah!" he replies, trying his best not to sound like he just ran a marathon. or got his dick sucked.

"you sure? i told you to stop eating random stuff in my fridge— those tuna wraps were old!"

you'd laugh out loud if it wouldn't give you away, so you settle for a teasing quirk of your brow. "bad, bad brother," you mouth, shaking your head in faux disapproval.

he curls his lip at you, peeved that you're part of this conversation at all. "'m fine! just knocked something ov-er!" he squeaks, voice cracking as you pop his tip back in your mouth.

the look he gives you is murderous, but you pay no mind to it as you suckle on his head, eyes fluttering shut, tonguing at the slit.

megumi's head falls back at the sight, his dick giving one last utterly pathetic twitch in the confines of your hot, wet mouth before the door swings open.

"you better not have broken anyth–"

horrified, indeed.

looks like you have something else to feel guilty about.

sorry, tsumiki.

@seiwas + dilly . . . thank u both for being so encouraging & so patient with me during all my writing slumps and breakdowns. i hope you enjoy. 🤍

[totallyhextra]

People? In MY computer?? It's more likely than you think!

The following is a fanvertisment and is not connected to the show. ****Yet.*** *Also yes, this is the fourth time I'm posting this because TUMBLR WONT LET ME EDIT SPELLING MISTAKES!

ANYWAY,

Once upon a time, back in 1987, Dire Straits put out this music video for “Money for Nothing”, which, as you know, was a song about wanting my MTV. 

The video was made by two guys (Gavin Blair and Ian Pearson) on a very moody computer. After the video went out, these two guys went to a pub:

Ian: “Hey, we should make a whole show like this!”

Gavin: “Dude, making three minutes almost killed us.”

And so it was decided!🎉

The two guys were joined by two other guys (Phil Mitchell and John Grace) and created the Hub, which then became Mainframe Entertainment. They got even more people, and then they all holed up in this hotel.

They were mad lads with a dream: a whole cgi animated show, and they made it happen a whole year before Toy Story!

Behold! ReBoot!

(Yes that fever dream was real)

Now before I get any of this:

Let me lay this down. If you can’t with the animation of the first season because it was CUTTING EDGE IN 1994, you can close your eyes and listen to it. ReBoot wasn’t just a CGI gimmick. The characters are fully developed, the voice actors are peerless, the plot is sharp, and there’s so many easter eggs that you’ll never find them all.

Never

(And yes the episode "Bad Bob" was the actual catalyst for Fury Road. Look it up)

ReBoot is about what life is like in a computer (in the 90s, because it was the 90s) called Mainframe (because of course it is). People are sprites, the guys that look like 1s and 0s are binomes (which represent 1s and 0s). Bad guys are viruses, and the good guy is a Guardian named Bob, who is a certified cinnamon roll.

In the first season the eps are light and self-contained, mainly because there was constant friction between the Mainframe studios and the Board of Standards and Practices.

They still got away with some pretty dark stuff, like Megabyte (virus) making Enzo (the kid) watch his dog get sliced open (dog got away, obviously) , Dot (sprite) have a hallucinatory breakdown, and the fridge horror of realizing the thousands of worm things (nulls) that plunged off a bridge to their death were actually people.

And Hex's (virus

best girl) scary face single-handedly traumatized an entire generation. 🙂

But busting through a window was a no go, because WhAt If tHe cHiLdReN dID iT tOo?

Anyway, halfway through the second season, ABC cut them loose, so they were like, fuck it, we’re going to start going hard. The story shifted from episodic to arcs and things start to get serious.

Third season the show moved to YTV in Canada, which gave no fucks about shielding the innocent children.

So it got DARK

How dark?

The UK refused to show the entire season, so the audience there had to wait until pirated copies made it across the pond to see how it ended.

Also by 1997, the animation was gorgeous. (Best example of third season animation I could think of that didn't have spoilers)

The show was green-lit for a fourth season on Cartoon Network, but halfway through production Warner Bros took over and the same fucking thing happened.

Because Mainframe was halfway done, they decided not to scrap all of it, but knowing they wouldn't be able to finish it correctly, Mainframe stripped anything that would hint at Season Four's true ending, then left what remained on a cliff-hanger of angst.

FOR 22 YEARS

(It's also why the last four eps of season four seem to make no sense)

And so it was.

Other crap happened, the soul left Mainframe, and its animated corpse spat out “The Guardian Code” in 2018. 

But never say die! The year is (almost) 2024, 30 years later. ReBoot shall rise from the dead, because here come the documentary!!

Do you dare see what you’ve been missing?

What the (UK) government doesn’t want you to know?? 

Then come on down to ReBoot!

We got:

Magnificent bastards with sexy voices!

(Tony Jay at his best)

Kickass women who could probably crush your head with their thighs and you’d enjoy it!

Innuendos in a kid's show!

💗 This adorable cinnamon roll!! 💗

Insane third season glow-ups!

YOUR NEW GOD

These guys!

(Gay roller-skating binome is my boi. I named him Jerry)

Nonstop cultural refs (You'll never find them all. Never.)

(There are literally videos dedicated to trying)

So many computer puns!

Body Horror!

Existential Crisis!

HAVE I MENTIONED YOUR NEW GOD?

This is it, folks! The real thing, the gem hidden in the moose-filled forests of Canadia!🌲🌲🌲

Take a trip inside a mid-90’s computer!

See the World Wide Web! (omg):

Witness the original purple Gamecubes that randomly fall from the sky when the owner of the computer (OUR GOOD LORD THE USER) wants to play a game. If it lands on people and they lose, they dissolve into mindless energy leeches, fated to tormented by their former bretheren for all of eternity.

Just like in real life! 🙃

So watch the eps! They on YouTube!

I think they're on Pluto, Hulu, Sling, and Tubi too! Also DVDs for people who have the patience to wait for them!

WATCH! BELIEVE! SUFFER THE SOUL-CRUSHING RAGE OF THE SEASON 4 CLIFF-HANGER!* (come on, its fun!)*

HYPE THE DOC!

The more people hype, the better the chances of actually getting it finished.

NOW SHARE THIS WITH EVERYONE!

And now I will leave you with this screenshot from the ep "Painted Windows", where dicks can clearly be seen drawn upon the wall behind the fleeing anthropomorphized television.

(PS: If you heard the clown pic at the top of the page in your head, you're welcome)

IMPORTANT UPDATE

This message is now approved by Gavin Blair! He's an awesome guy. Show him some love on TWITTER (fuck you musk) at @TheRealMrSweary Also, if you want to share this with non-tumblr friends, here is my attempt at a webpage version:

theseventhstarprojects.com/REBOOT.html

[florascent]

Human

Pairing: Keigo Takami x gn!reader

Word count: 1.8k

Genre(s): Slight smut, mainly hurt/comfort, ends in fluff

CWs: Dissociation, multiple pet names, mention of sex, reader has glasses

You lifted your gaze. His name jolted into your mind as you met golden honey, sweet and warm just for you. You wished you could bask in it, feel it deep in your bones, let it melt into and under your skin. How nice that would be. How pleasant. You would drown in it happily as you had done countless times before if you could.

Instead, you observed him in a detached manner, hyper-focused on his face as you rememorized everything you knew about him. Pieces of information came back to you, certain yet careful so you won't get overwhelmed. Unlike life, your mind and body knew to treat you gently.

Hawks. His name was- No. Not Hawks. That was his hero name. His persona. His name was Keigo. He was Keigo Takami. Your boyfriend. You recently moved in with him. He took care of you. He loved you. You loved him. You loved him. You loved him.

The feeling escaped you now. No matter how much you repeated the claim in your head. Frustratingly, tragically, far out of your reach. Regardless, the fact remained. Your current state didn't change anything. You took reassurance in that, at the very least.

Everything was so incredibly hazy yet perfectly clear at the same time.

You must've shut down and rebooted slowly to not short circuit again. It certainly felt like that was the case. One second, you were watching a movie with Keigo, comfortably snuggled close to him. The next, your vision went dark. With a blink, it came back and you looked to the man sitting beside you, not quite feeling like yourself anymore.

Maybe I'm not human, you mused emptily. Maybe I tricked myself and everyone around me into thinking I was.

He'd understand, won't he? Yes, rang in your head. He was always so understanding. Even when you didn't make sense. Even when your mind was a tangled mess of overwhelming emotions. Even when you acted crazy.

He was so good at deciphering you, so good at detangling your messy thoughts and feelings into neatness, so good at making you feel sane and normal or matching your crazy so you wouldn't feel as much of an awful person. You sometimes thought you didn't deserve him.

You stared at him. He stared back, his eyes soft and gentle and kind. Did you look as dull and empty to him as you suddenly felt? Probably. You didn't try hiding it. You didn't want to be a burden, but you also wanted to lay yourself bare to him. You knew he wanted that, too.

He had begged you to let yourself be vulnerable around him one day. You gave in, because how could you say no to him? But only on the condition he did the same for you. Your partnership with him was a two-way street and you wouldn't stand for anything less. You'd be personally offended if he wasn't vulnerable with you, if he purposely hid those parts for ‘your sake’, when you did your best to be good to him.

He didn't hide his worry. You saw it on his handsome features, sensed it in the slow, careful way he lifted his hand to your face. Like, you'd get easily spooked. But you weren't on edge. You didn't feel nervous or scared or anxious. You softly acknowledged that you were safe in your shared home, with him right beside you. So, why was he…?

Oh. That's right. You were his bunny. His cute, little, soft bunny. That's what he always told you when he was in a mean, teasing mood.

The more illicit aspects of the nickname came to mind as he caressed your cheek. Maybe he was trying to bring you back? You wanted that. You wanted to feel something. It wasn't just a lack of love. You were a blank slate trying to remember who you were. Emotions weren't part of that equation.

You half focused on his warm touch as you recalled the first time he called you 'Bunny'. It was during sex. His touch had been searingly hot while grabbing at your body as he pleased, his gaze predatory while he looked down on you, cocky smirk in place. He had murmured the name in your ear, breathless and teasing. Your guess was that he figured hawks enjoyed eating bunnies. You had definitely felt devoured by him in that moment.

“Everything okay, Dove?” Oh, yeah. He also called you Dove and Babybird and Birdie and- There were too many things he called you but his preference for giving you animal-like nicknames was not lost on you.

A slow, robotic blink.

Lips twitching into a concerned frown.

You contemplated on how to answer despite the question being an easy 'yes' or 'no'. It didn't feel easy in your head. Yes, I'm okay. I'm not overwhelmed. I'm not hurt. That probably won't fly with him.

“No.” You answered honestly, voice almost timid. Something was still clearly wrong. You were lost in a surreal daze, where you didn't quite feel like a person. Like, you had taken over someone else's body. Everything else felt… tangible. Real. You were the only thing out of place.

He removed his hand from your skin, hovering an inch away. “Touch?” He watched your expression carefully for any hint of you not wanting his hands on you.

You thought about it briefly. “Yes.” There were times when just the thought of being touched made you uncomfortable, but this was not one of them. You felt a certain indifference about receiving physical contact, but you thought that maybe his hands would help you feel more human. Although, you did wonder if a parasite deserved such a thing.

As soon as you gave verbal consent, he slid your glasses off and set them on the bedside drawer at his side of the bed. He cupped your cheeks with both hands immediately after, pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes. Warm. He was warm.

You slowly moved onto his lap when he pulled his lips away, chasing after that warmth of his. He wrapped his arms around you as you rested your chin on his shoulder, his breaths lightly fanning into your hair. He rubbed your back with strong, soothing hands. You closed your eyes again, gradually melting into him.

“Tell me what's wrong.” He murmured in your ear, hands tentatively sliding under your shirt and up your back. It almost sounded like a question. You melted further at the skin contact. His touch became less hesitant.

“I feel… weird. Everything feels off.”

“C'mon, Angel.” His voice softly coaxed you to give him a better answer. He wanted to help you properly.

He leaned back against the headboard, gently forcing you to pull away. You sat upright, watching large crimson wings shift behind him. You presumed so he'd be more comfortable.

“I'm not real.” Your eyes shifted from bold red to that golden honey. His eyes looked back at you seriously.

“Babe-”

“You asked.” There was no bite to your tone. It was soft. Monotone. Factual.

He moved from his relaxed position and rested his forehead against yours. You both ignored the soft laughter coming from the TV. The movie still played. He cupped your face once more. “You're real.”

“No... I'm not- I'm not a real person.” Granted, the surreal factor to your perception was starting to fade. Maybe his hands really were the remedy. Or maybe it was him getting you to talk. Either way, as per usual, he was helping. He was so effortless. “This isn't my body. It's not mine. I'm not real. I just want to be real.”

“You are real, Dove.” He insisted softly, ever so patient with you. You felt his breath on your lips, warming your face with each calm exhale. You wanted to believe him. You were starting to. He would never lie to you so there was no reason you shouldn't.

“Baby, it's all in your head.” His voice was so gentle, so certain, soothing you back to a stable reality. All in my head… You hadn't considered that. Not in the way he meant it. Your brain still felt too hazed to think too deeply of anything.

“See these hands?” He took your hands in his, placing little kisses on the knuckles. “They're yours and they look pretty real to me.” He kissed your palms next, his lips soft and warm. “They feel real.” You felt him grin suddenly against your skin before his tongue made an appearance.

You snatched your hands back while he chuckled lightly. “They taste real.” He licked his upper lip. You wiped your hand down his bare chest in response. He had a habit of going to bed shirtless, something you didn't mind at all.

He rested his hand on top of yours, moving it over to his beating heart. It was steady, slow. The other reached for your face, thumbing at the skin under your eye. “Am I real?”

“Yes.”

He moved your hand to your own chest, palm pressed over cotton fabric where you could feel your heart. “Do you feel that?” You nodded silently. “That's your heart.” He pecked your cheek while hooking his finger to the neckline of your shirt and tugging it off your shoulder. He kissed the skin there next. “This is your body.” He murmured against you, hands returning to massaging your back.

He continued to press affirmations to your skin, focusing on your face, neck, and shoulders, until you fully believed him. He ended with a loving kiss to your lips. He lingered, enjoying the feel of your lips brushing together with his.

He pulled away, citrine eyes gazing at you with pure love and adoration. “Let's get some sleep, yeah?”

You nodded. It was late, past midnight. You hadn't felt tired enough to sleep earlier but now it crept up to you. You settled yourself on your side of the bed as he sent feathers to flick the TV and bedside lamps off.

Darkness instantly took over the room but it was comfortable. You listened to the nighttime city sounds drifting in through open windows. The song of crickets, the occasional car whizzing by, an aircraft whooshing through the sky. It became white noise, along with his quiet breathing.

“Keigo?” You reached out, hand searching for his own. You clasped on when you found it.

“Yeah, Dove?” He slid his palm against yours, interlocking your and his fingers between each other.

“I love you. Even when I'm not myself.” You meant to thank him but he’d probably brush it off and say it was what good boyfriends do.

He gently pulled you close, both an arm and a wing draping over you. You melted into his embrace. “I love you more.” You felt a soft pressure on the top of your head, his lips lingering. You didn't have it in you to scoff and argue that you loved him more. Not tonight. Tonight, you accepted his affections in silence before finally drifting off to sleep.

[slasherx]

may i request headcanons for reboot jason with a fem s/o who loves kissing him all over his face and neck 😍

I assume you mean 2009 Jason

Content: Jason Voorhees x fem!reader

Warnings: None

Notes: I couldn't find any GIF's of 2009 Jason :(

• ───────────────── •

Jason wasn't used to affection at all - he wasn't used to people liking him before, much less with all his kills now. So when you two got together it was a huge surprise for him.

Now he's sat on the couch with you, watching a movie. Popcorn in his lap, he was watching the movie intently. Being in the woods almost his whole life meant he missed out on a lot of things growing up, including media.

But however, once the credits of the movie rolled, you turned to him and gave him a kiss on his masked cheek. He grew stiff and looked at you through the corner of his eye. You giggled, noticing that, and kissed him again.

Jason was still getting used to you giving him affection, so he didn't know how to react. It was still kind of early into the relationship - only six months had passed. As he was thinking this to himself, you got up on your knees on the couch and moved closer to him, kissing him once more.

Then your lips began to travel. You leaned up to kiss his forehead, gently moved his head to kiss his other cheek, kissed where his mouth would be, kissed his masked nose, kissed around the eye holes, and then your lips traveled down his jawline.

Jason's red blush could rival the blood of his victims. He felt goosebumps rise on his arms as you went lower and lower. He tried to tune his mother out, who was chastising him for letting you get "too steamy" with him.

When your lips touched the bare skin on his neck, he jumped and put his hands on your shoulders. You gave him a few more kisses before he finally pushed you away and shook his head. Fearing you crossed a line, you sat back on your knees with a frown on your face.

"I'm sorry Jase, I didn't realize I was making you uncomfortable. I won't do it again, promise."

Jason then waved his hands and tried to explain that he was okay until you touched his neck, but he ended up getting frustrated. He let out an angry grunt and stood up, popcorn forgotten about on the table. He stomped through the house, ripping through drawers until he foud what he wanted.

Sitting back down with you on the couch, he showed you a page out of the notebook he quickly scribbled in to communicate with you. It read, I was okay until you touched my neck. Sensitive.

"Your neck is sensitive?" You asked.

Jason then nodded yes, then took the notebook back to scribble something else. He then shoved the notebook back in your hands for you to read. You did nothing wrong. I'm just sensitive. Keep kissing.

You giggled at the last bit. "Okay, Jase. I'll keep kissing you, but I'll keep in mind about your neck, okay?"

Jason nodded and bumped his head gently against yours, his way of kissing you himself.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!

[junosmindpalace]

wrote this quick thing to cope with shibuya (and school starting)

contrary to popular belief, waking up with satoru gojo wasn’t filled with angst or longing.

never were you filled with an overwhelming sense of loneliness or abandonment upon seeing an empty dip in the bed beside you, because never, not even once, had you awoken due to the loss of his warmth around your body.

when satoru rose from bed, so did you, and when you rose from bed, so did satoru. whether that was at five in the morning or one in the afternoon, you and satoru started your mornings together. the two of you never had strict sleep schedules, anyway, due to the demanding and unpredictable nature of your jobs.

mornings were a kinder, more merciful part of your routines. compared to all the violence, mental and physical exhaustion that made up the majority of your day, at least you could have a sense of peace as you rose with the dawn. 

the two of you shift around in your sleep plenty of times, from cuddling to hogging blankets on opposite sides of the bed, to waking up in a tangled mess of limbs. satoru’s mornings start in the crook of your neck, and if not there, then he turns around to bury himself in the crevice. his hair tickles your face and slowly pulls you out of unconsciousness, and for a moment the sensation alarms you. but when you realize it’s only satoru, with strong protective arms wrapped around your waist and face buried against you, you sigh and collapse against him, turning to lay on your back and card a hand through his messy snow locks.

mornings with satoru were not hurried-- not in the slightest. if there was one thing satoru could get away with as the strongest, it was lazing about and being late. and he certainly wasn’t eager to rush out of your comforting arms, and so the two of you take your time adjusting to the morning light that peeks through the blinds, adjust yourself a couple more times in bed, throwing your legs atop of each others (and hissing when one was too cold), and simply taking what’s left of the dark before slowly getting out of bed and into your shared bathroom. 

the whole routine is done slowly, not a single sense of urgency. brushing your teeth, washing your face, patting each other's bed heads down to look just the slightest bit more presentable in the bathroom mirror. 

he’s arguably more groggy than you are in the mornings, which makes him all the more eager to finish up in the bathroom and head to the kitchen to brew himself coffee. by the time you finish up, you’re slowly making your way into the kitchen where satoru stands holding the handle of his mug. he extends your own toward you when you approach, and you graciously accept it with both hands and a mumbled “thank you…”, and the two of you take a minute or two to bask in each others company and in the relieving, energizing warmth of your beverages.

mornings with satoru were not loud or filled with much conversation. in contrast to your usual days and nights filled with teasing and random conversation, it was not uncommon for the two of you to go long stretches in the morning without a word. time taken just to reboot and get into the mindset of the day, but not wanting to separate from each other. all the two of you really need is each others’ presence. the habitual noises that come from your routines--the slight clattering of dishes, the wrinkling of fabric as you got dressed, the whirring of cars from outside as you open your windows to let in fresh air-- was the most sound that filled your apartment in the morning. 

muttered conversation rises as the sun does higher in the sky, when the sleep slowly starts to fade out of your systems. it’s about the weather, it’s about your schedules for the day, it’s about how he kicked you in his sleep, and him giving you an apologetic kiss to make up for it. small, substanceless conversation, but it was enough. 

you take him in in other ways instead. he tastes like coffee and mint in the mornings when he kisses you, a strong combination that you’ve learned to find comfort in. the large white tee he wears to sleep smells of his body wash and softener as you nuzzle your face into the fabric, taking in a couple of extra minutes being enveloped by him before the two of you begin your day. his hair is untameable, sticking out in all directions no matter how much you try to adjust the messy heap into somewhat of a presentable style. he laughs at the small pout on your face as you do so, and takes your hand out of his hair to press a small kiss to your fingertips. he grins and tells you he doesn’t mind and neither should you as he leans into your palm. 

he takes you in in other ways, too. silently listening to your hums as you check your phone to see what you missed out on while you slept, the gentle tune soothing his irritation over waking up from his pleasant slumber with you. he watches you style your own hair after giving up on his own, thinking about how much it suits you through his hazy head. and if he’s feeling just clingy enough, he’ll collapse his head atop of yours and breathe in the product you put in that he loves so much, gently swaying the two of you in place. what originally starts out with a single peck to your pouty lips as he holds your chin delicately turns into another, and then another. you laugh at the satisfied look on his face when he realizes it's your lip balm he loves so much that’s pulling him in, and is reminded to snatch the tube for himself from your bathroom drawer before he leaves (though he’s always disappointed, because it always tastes better against your lips).  

he adjusts the pin on your uniform after you finish dressing yourselves as you scold him to “spend a little more time with the first years today”, and he can only smile and reassure you that he “has something special in store for them”. you help him pull his blindfold over his head and adjust it so it sits comfortably over his eyes, combing your fingers through his unruly hair that now looks even more wild with something holding it up.

you check once, twice, all over your apartment to make sure you aren’t forgetting anything, and satoru chuckles and reassures you that a simple phone call will have him warping to the school to drop off anything you left behind. as you kiss him goodbye before parting ways in front of the school, he mumbles against your lips that he’ll stop by later with a breakfast treat for the two of you to share in the office (because satoru is still greedy, and though he’ll original buy just one for you to enjoy on your own, he’ll not so subtly eye and indicate that he wants a bite). 

and with that, the two of you part your separate ways, and the slow morning transitions into the hectic start of your jobs. but you know that even so, you’ll be filled with a solace reminiscent of the one you two shared earlier when you enjoy your treat in the empty staff room together later. 

[radioactive-earthshine]

Hi, I know you already addressed a lot of the mischaracterization of Kon and Clark's relationship, but I was under the impression that Kon actually means 'abomination' in Kryptonian, and that Clark giving him that name was a rejection in itself. I am not very well versed in comics, so I apologize if this is just a fanon concept.

Hello!

You're not alone in being misled, as this concept has stretched far and wide and it is a very common theme in fandom works like fanfic.

The concept of Kon-El meaning "abomination" is canon, not fanon, but its source is from the New 52 reboot.

Some fans have in an attempt to create more angst for Kon adopted the concept that Clark gave Kon this name knowing full well what it meant as a way of rejecting him - this is incorrect - and it is blending versions together to make something that just never actually happened with Clark.

There are two versions of Kon getting his name in a main continuity - one in the 1994 comics, and the other in the New 52 Superboy comics.

To best answer your question, I am going to talk about the New 52 version first where "Kon-El" means abomination.

Also, it is important to remember that this Kon-El, isn't even actually Conner Kent (that's another post for another day comics are weird).

Anyway, in the New 52 reboot Superboy is 'called' Kon-El not by Clark, but by Kara!

Superboy v.6 (2011-2014) #6

In this iteration, Kara has some extreme prejudiced bigotry towards "Kon" for being a clone due to the disastrous history Krypton had involving clones. It prompted her to attempt to kill "Kon" the moment she found out he was a clone after more or less calling him a slur.

Superboy v.6 (2011-2014) #6

You can blame Scott Lobdell for this particular evisceration of Kara's character and for the name Kon-El warping into 'abomination' henceforth.

This particular run and story is no longer relevant to main continuity and it is not attached to Conner Kent because this did not happen to Conner Kent, but it did in fact happen and Krypton's disastrous history involving clones is still canon as well. Kon is still facing varying degrees of discrimination from Kryptonian-based ideology (Eradicator) because he is a clone.

Now let's talk about Clark and Kon and where Kon-El first came from and put a stop to the slander.

Where the name "Kon-El" originally came from was from Conner's 1994 solo series where Clark offered it to him from a place of affection.

Superboy (1994) #59

The original moment of Kon obtaining his name from Clark was profound because up until this point he did not have a proper name. He was just "Superboy" or "Kid" or "Pup" (derogatory) so when Clark offers this Kon is so happy he starts crying.

Superboy (1994) #59

At this point in time in comic history Kon-El did not mean abomination, "Kon" was a real Kryptonian name, and in the original run Clark did not even have any resentment towards Kon or negative feelings about his existence at all. He trusted him, felt he was worthy of the S-shield as a representative of hope, and at this point he wanted him to be part of his family.

This is Clark adopting Kon into his family right here in this moment - because Superman is the tale of the immigrant, the refugee and of love in family where blood does not equal family. That is what he is saying right here in this issue.

It is also important to note that at this point Geoff Johns' making Kon a 'clone' of Lex AND Clark is not canon and Kon is not even supposed to be blood related to Clark.

In closing...

Clark's relationship to Kon/Conner Kent in the main comic continuity is not hostile or rejection-based.

In their comic origins they had a nebulous relationship which over time evolved to being firmly brothers with a huge age gap and now in current continuity they are again brothers but with a different perspective.

Action Comics #1028

Current continuity Clark who doesn't remember Kon at all knows him for less than a week and claims him and he is actually distraught he doesn't remember him.

Fandom is transformative and angst/hostility/rejection will always be a major theme people will love to create and consume - but it is also important to recognize that some details are simply not canon and should be regarded as transformative works to tell a story.

I hope this clears some things up from the comics side of DC.

[makeyoumine69]

Lost Memory (Memory Reboot x4)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader x Timothy Bryce

SUMMARY: Two lost souls, both broken and neglected, knowing they were never meant to be, found solace in each other just for one night.

CONTAINS: SMUT, angst, depression, obsessive thoughts, mentions of death, canon violence, tainted love, blow jobs, face-sitting, hand jobs, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, dirty talk, pet names, sensual foreplay, rimming, intoxication, praise kink.

WORDS: 4.5k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Lost Memory

A/N: Hello everyone, the new chapter is finally here! I'm sorry for the wait, but I hope you like it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

Cool New York night air enveloped your shivering frame the moment you walked outside, leaving the noisy wedding party behind the walls of the luxurious Ziegfeld Ballroom. Slowly breathing in the fresh air, you closed your eyes and threw your head back a little to come back to your senses—you were literally broken to pieces, to say the least—your heart was pounding painfully in your chest and at some point you wished it would stop beating, thinking that it would end everything and finally set you free from all this pain and suffering. 

Hugging yourself, you took a few weak strides towards the street where cars were speeding by. Just one step, and tomorrow all the newspapers would report that there had been an accident in Manhattan right next to the Ziegfeld Ballroom where the pompous wedding of our Wall Street golden boy was taking place. You laughed to yourself at all this nonsense, how did you ever get into such a situation? Being completely sober, the realization of what you were thinking hit you even harder than if you were drunk or high, but now you were completely lucid, able to feel every twinge of pain.

Bewildered, you watched the yellow cars go by, sometimes you could see the impassive faces of the passengers inside. All this reminded you of a movie whose name you could never really remember. But it was definitely not a comedy or a drama. Maybe it was a documentary about someone's life... a tragic life?

With a sad sigh, you were about to sit down on the curb when you heard loud footsteps behind you and turned around to see a familiar silhouette approaching.

"Bateman?" You asked, stunned. "What are you doing here?"

The man didn't answer, as if he hadn't noticed you at all, casually pulling a cigar out of the pocket of his Prada coat that he wore over his wedding tuxedo, and for a second you thought it was just an illusion your sick mind managed to maintain to keep your psyche from collapsing.

After lighting his cigar, Patrick made a long drag before finally giving you an agonizing stare. "Just wanted to have some fresh air..." he paused, his white teeth clenching around the cigar, making his jawline look so sharp that even in the dark you could see it. "Plus, Evelyn didn't want me to smoke inside. We just got married and she's already making scenes."

You wanted to say something, but stopped at the last moment—his hazel eyes suddenly took your breath away—leaving you completely speechless.

"And you," Bateman continued as he came closer, his elegant figure looking so seductive in the dim light. "I can't believe you left all your business in Chicago just to come here and get squashed like a fucking cockroach!"

"What? What are you talking about?" You asked in a shaky tone, your temples pulsating with a strange tension that made you want to massage them. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

Patrick grinned wickedly as he leveled himself with you, the difference in height only adding to the menace of his appearance. "Tell me one thing, (y/n)," he whispered above your cheek, keeping the mere distance between the two of you. "Did you really think I'd dream of you coming back to me?"

You closed your eyes involuntarily, every word he said bringing the most inhuman pain you had ever felt. "S-stop," you replied, stepping back. "Shut... shut your damn mouth!"

"Ohhh," he cooed at you in a mocking way, which drove you crazy, but then he blew some smoke right in your face, which made you want to punch him in the chest. "You just have to accept that you lost," Bateman suddenly grabbed the collar of your coat to pull you closer. "Just accept that you fell in love with a man who doesn't give a fuck about you."

On the verge of tears, you didn't even struggle as the ground beneath your feet suddenly began to disappear. "I... I will not give you the satisfaction of hating you... you f-fucking bastard!"

Without thinking, you spat right into his smug face and before you knew it, his strong arms were wrapped around your trembling neck, almost straddling you so you couldn't even make a sound. Everything around you began to blur, and the last moment you remembered before passing out was Patrick's menacing laugh as he pushed you right out into the road in front of the speeding car. A fatal blow hit your body, a screeching sound of tires rang in your ears and you screamed in pain, choking on your own breath.

And then the darkness finally took you.

At least you thought so until you heard a familiar male voice calling out to you, and no, it wasn't Patrick. No way, if you were really going to die, you wished you would never meet him in the place you were going to transfer to. No doubt, that son of a bitch would burn in hell while you would end up in heaven. Somehow you were sure of that.

"Jesus, (y/n), will you stop yelling?" The grumpy voice called out to you again.

You blinked several times before opening your eyes to see the opulent interior around you. And who said that heaven was somewhere in the sky where angels were flying around promising a peaceful afterlife?

"Welcome back," the dark-haired man chuckled, swirling his drink in his hand. "I told you not to mix too many cocktails."

Cocktails?

You recoiled as if from an electric shock as you suddenly heard your inner voice, seemingly silent for centuries. Rubbing your eyes, you tried to get up, but the next moment you fell back onto something soft, which seemed to be a car seat, considering you definitely heard the engine rumble, so you were definitely in someone's car. Another attempt to get up was more successful and you took your time exploring the surroundings, and when you managed to get a good look at the person sitting on the opposite side of you, your heart did a flip-flop in your chest.

"Bryce?" You couldn't believe your eyes at first, but when you saw his cheeky grin, you knew it was really him.

"You drifted off right after we got in, so I decided not to wake you," Timothy replied nonchalantly before taking a sip of his drink. "Nice limo? Evelyn and Bateman were supposed to be in it, but then he told me they were leaving in a fucking helicopter," the man laughed, almost dropping the glass. "A fucking helicopter, can you believe that?"

Your head was spinning, making it difficult to process the information. Grunting, you pressed your hand to your forehead, trying to remember how you got in here in the first place.

"Ohhh...my head," you hissed, almost kicking the tray of drinks that was on the small table built into the limo door. "What...what happened after the ceremony ended," your question left Tim speechless and for a moment you both remained silent. "Bryce?"

Timothy frowned and placed the empty glass on his knee. "Are you kidding?"

"For God's sake, Bryce!" You suddenly raised your voice, but the next second you hissed in pain. "Can... can you just fucking tell me what the hell am I doing here?"

"You're asking me that?" Bryce tilted his head as he watched you try to sit comfortably. "Come on, (y/n), this isn't funny anymore. Besides, I warned you not to drink too much."

Tsk... I can't remember a damn thing.

When you managed to sit up straight, you pressed yourself against the cold window and sighed in relief. "And what exactly did...we drink?" 

The man scoffed. "I told you...you had several cocktails, but that was not enough...so you decided to finish everything the bar had."

"Ahh, screw you! I don't believe a word you're saying," you threw one leg over the other, watching the blinding lights of oncoming traffic. "Where are we going?!"

"Where? Jeez, if you can't drink, you better not even try," Tim replied curtly, his voice changing, now devoid of any sass. "We're going to my place."

"What?"

"Stop fucking pretending you don't remember," the man barked, squirming in his seat, the glass felt on the soft floor of the limo, thankfully it didn't break. "Do you know how deranged you are? You talked in your sleep-"

"I didn't!" You tried to interrupt him, completely embarrassed. "Take another glass and-"

"No, no, no, hold on!" Bryce leaned forward to get closer so you could see his face more clearly. "Did I hit the nerve?"

Yes, you did. You fucking did.

If only you could really confess and open up to him without fear of being accused or whatever. Would it even be right to tell Tim everything that happened between you and Patrick? When you were so close to telling him all the things that were bothering you, your voice suddenly disappeared, as if some invisible force was choking you from within. Only after a few minutes did you manage to speak, feeling Timothy's piercing gaze.

"Was it Evelyn who invited you to the wedding?" Your question surprised him, you could tell by the way he leaned back in his seat. "I'm just curious...because she invited me."

Every time Evelyn was mentioned, something changed in his expression, and you couldn't really find the right word to describe it—it was something much stronger than the usual sadness people always talked about—something that made you sad, too.

"Let's say," his lips curled into a wry smile and you couldn't take your eyes off them, they were beautiful and alluring. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember or...you don't want to remember?" You opened your coat, suddenly feeling suffocated in your clothes.

Bryce furrowed his thick eyebrows, looked down at the empty glass on the floor, as did you, and then your fingers touched as you both leaned down to pick it up. Tim's skin was not as soft as Patrick's, it felt completely different, it made you want to explore it more, to touch it, to taste it, as if it was your own personal forbidden fruit.

Without saying a word, Tim quickly pulled away and took the glass to place it on the tray next to the others, the amber liquid in them making them look like they were made of gold. There was no room for any more talk as the two of you pulled each other into a furious kiss, you let him place his hand at the base of your neck, drawing you closer and soon you were sitting on top of him, gasping into his mouth. Bryce's slightly flushed face made it impossible to think of Bateman, even though his image tried to appear every time you briefly opened your eyes. 

Leave... me... alone!

You almost growled aloud, but Tim's eager tongue prevented you from doing so, as he used it to shut you up completely, licking your mouth from the inside while his hands slid down your back to your ass, massaging it, and when you thought he was going to slap it, he just gave it a playful squeeze.

"Jesus, Bryce," you whispered against his red lips, swollen from your kisses. "I didn't know you could be so sweet."

Tim craned his neck and you seized the moment to leave a wet hickey on his smooth skin, he smelled so good you thought you could just snuggle into his chest and sniff his scent. And why did you even bother with these childish, silly games with Bateman? Unfortunately, some questions never had answers, but it didn't matter now. Not when you could find comfort in the arms of Patrick's best friend. 

God, I wish you could see me right now.

"There's so little you know about me, baby." He chirped before helping you take off your coat, his impatience turning you on wildly. 

With a soft giggle, you unbuttoned your shirt. "Huh, baby? Really? And I thought you were the type who didn't use such primitive nicknames."

Smirking, you teased him with the slow rocking of your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressed against your burning core, and it spurred you to move faster, more erratically, as you unexpectedly became as impatient as he was. And even though you didn't like losing control, you wanted to get lost right now, even though you'd probably regret it tomorrow, but at least the regret would be different.

Nibbling at the artery on your neck, Timothy grabbed your ass tighter to make the friction more vivid, his finger digging into the expensive material of your Gucci pants. "I can call you anything you want," he growled into your collarbone, your shirt half undone. "Just tell me what you want to be tonight?"

"I can be anything," you caught his warm lips with your own to kiss him again in a way that bordered on desperation, as if your life depended on it, and he responded with the same ferocity. "Anything you want..."

Chuckling at your cheeky statement, the man lounged in his seat and looked at you up and down, admiring the way your clothes were disheveled, your hair was nothing like it had been when you had just arrived at the wedding and even your feelings were different. Everything was different now, the whole world seemed to diminish to the size of the interior of the limousine and you both wanted this moment to last forever, but you knew it was impossible.

Bryce decided to use his mouth in a more effective way than just talking, latching it around your nipple through your shirt, but then taking it off completely and swirling his tongue around your hard tip.

"Don't be anything," he quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled out his hard cock. "Just be mine tonight."

You couldn't hide a smile of genuine satisfaction as his words struck a chord in your chest. "Deal."

With that, you carefully rose from his lap to position yourself between his wide-open legs, watching him touch himself with pure abandon. And yet, everything about Tim was far too alien, your mind kept bringing back the memories of what had happened in the bathroom a few hours ago. It hurt, it hurt so much that you almost chewed your cheek to the point of blood to hold back the tears. Bryce, you had to focus on Bryce, he was here, right in front of you, all spread out and pumping his thick cock. 

Stop thinking about Bateman!

"Are you sure you know what to do?" Timothy glared down at you, concerned by the sudden change in your demeanor.

Shaking yourself off, you smiled in reply and before you knew it, your hand was sliding along his, then completely replacing it and stroking his dick vigorously, smearing his dense pre-cum all along your hand. 

"Watch me," you murmured and lowered yourself even more to take him in your mouth, savoring his salty taste. "Mhhm...fuck, Bryce, you taste so good."

Tim couldn't stop himself from moaning, grabbing the edge of the seat and closing his eyes in ecstasy. "Keep going," he purred, fighting the urge to fuck your throat. "Shit... Bateman doesn't even know what he lost."

Bryce's words almost made you choke on his beefy shaft, but it only took a moment to pull yourself together and just enjoy the way his dick slid in and out of your mouth. As the man pushed himself further, the tip brushing against your throat, you leaned against his hips for support, allowing him to have his way with you. Just the sight of him made you tremble with desire, as you had never really thought that Tim could be so hot, not that you had any doubts that he was a skilled lover, but reality never ceased to surprise you.

"I...I'm so fucking close...uh," his voice dropped even lower, eloquent proof of his words. "Your mouth...arhhh...you know how to work magic with your mouth, babe."

Although you had always denied having a praise kink, being with Tim was the first time you were truly willing to admit that you did have a praise kink. Every little praise he gave you was like balm to your broken soul, encouraging you to suck him harder, to drink him dry. These two men were far too unlike each other, but in the end, you seemed to crave them both.

Being so close to falling apart, Bryce couldn't control himself any more and took a handful of your hair and plunged full length into your bruised mouth until you both noticed that the car had stopped. Tim swore loudly but that didn't stop you and the next thing you remembered was feeling thick ropes of his hot cum shooting down your throat and you could swear it tasted so fucking sweet. Maybe you were delusional, maybe it was just another hallucination–you didn't care because you were high like no drugs could make you.

I'll remember that taste for sure. 

A little later, you didn't know exactly how much time had passed, and you didn't recollect how the two of you had gotten into Bryce's apartment. You didn't care about the luxury of this place, how expensive the furniture was, how soft the silk sheets were when you fell on them, your naked skin sliding along the cold material like a ship on waves. You were about to lose all connection to reality when Tim climbed on top of you, his hairy chest rubbing against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist and you couldn't stifle a moan as his leaky dick rubbed against your legs.

Creasing the sheets, you raked your hand through his black, tousled hair, pulling him closer so that your lips could collide in a hunger kiss. "Fuck me, Tim," you murmured unexpectedly, brushing your feet against his hips. "Fuck me like there's no tomorrow."

"Are you always this needy?" He teased, biting your lower lip and licking it after a quick nibble. "Or is it because of me?"

Perplexed, you stopped doing anything as his words left you pondering. "I... I don't know... I don't know who I really am..."

Bryce nodded without saying anything, his nose touching yours in a brief moment of genuine affection, and somehow you thought he understood everything, that he could read you like an open book and there was no need for you to explain. Pecking your cheek, the man slowly turned you over on your stomach and you quickly got down on all fours because you couldn't wait any longer. Bucking your hips, you turned around to see him positioning himself behind you, his warm palm caressing your ass before a finger probed your tight hole, making you gasp but you didn't falter, showing him how ready and eager you were.

"Uhh," Tim stroked himself several times before aligning himself with your opening and diving in with a slow, deliberate thrust. "Fuck...mmhm-fuck."

The mere thought that he had been imagining Evelyn all this time, starting with you giving him head, suddenly made you angry, and for a brief second you allowed yourself to imagine that it was Patrick who was stretching you from the inside, but somehow you began to feel even worse.

"I'm sorry...I'm not Evelyn," you blurted out without thinking. "But I..."

"Shut up," he cut you off and slammed into you relentlessly, forcing you to take him, no matter how painful it was. "I don't want to hear about her...not even a thing."

Bryce was right, it was so fucking stupid of you to bring Evelyn at such a moment, but it was so hard for you to think clearly and Tim's fat cock didn't help at all, the fullness it gave you was completely overwhelming. It made you forget everything and you didn't even want to compare your sensation with the way Patrick made you feel - your mind was finally free of any emotions or thoughts–you were drowning in a carnal lust. You were both extremely vocal, poor neighbors who could hear you at this hour, but Timothy seemed to be completely indifferent as he set the pace, pounding into you with all his might, each stroke full of desperation and unbridled passion. 

By the time dawn broke, you couldn't remember how many orgasms you'd both had, as you'd probably tried every possible and impossible position. You managed to be on your knees for him, under him, on top of him. It was madness you never thought you were capable of. As you rode his face, touching yourself, you cried out Bryce's name, not even afraid to accidentally use Patrick's name instead. 

"Tim...mhmm-fuck...Tim...I'mma cum!" You fisted his hair, sliding along his glistening face as you rubbed your most sensitive spot. "Fuck...yeahh-Tim...ahhh!"

Shaking, you cum around his face, feeling his strong tongue move inside your tight ass as your inner channel spasmed around it, causing him to moan and hold you close to prolong your climax. Time stopped for both of you with the last stroke of his tongue along your tender flesh and you both collapsed exhausted on the bed. 

The first rays of the sun awoke you earlier than you could have imagined. As you lazily got up from the bed, trying not to disturb Tim snoring peacefully, you checked the time before you started looking for your clothes. To be honest, you wanted to stay here in his bed and continue to sleep in his arms, but you knew it would only lead to destruction and you were sure that Bryce thought the same.

Maybe it was a mistake?

Frowning, you wanted to punch yourself for being so reckless and stupid, but Tim's loud exhale caught your attention. You turned to check on him before leaving his bedroom to quickly get dressed and use the bathroom. All the while, you tried to ignore your own reflection, feeling the shame and contempt eating away at you from within, though you didn't even understand why. Bryce wanted this to happen as much as you did, but no matter how hard you tried to reassure yourself, it just didn't seem right. After one last look in the large mirror above the sink, you left the bathroom and soon after you left Timothy's apartment. 

The taxi ride back to the Plaza Hotel didn't take long as it was only six in the morning. Looking out the window, you saw rare pedestrians walking here and there, some of them holding newspapers that you were sure were the New York Times. The tops of the skyscrapers were about to reach the sky, and every time you craned your neck to look at them, your head began to spin. All these little details made you realize that you missed New York and probably your former life?

Was it worth it leaving everything behind?

This question kept swirling around in your head even as you finally got back into your suit and decided to take a shower to clean up after such a wild day. Dear God, you just fucked two different men in one day. 

"I'm so pathetic..." You muttered to yourself as you stood under the hot water. "What am I going to do now?"

Pressing your head against the wet tiled wall, you gave up and let the tears flow down your face, the water washing them away in an instant. You felt guilty, thinking that you'd only used Bryce for your own needs, knowing that it wouldn't lead to anything serious, but you did it anyway. It was so damn selfish. But then you remembered the words Patrick had said to you in the bathroom just before the ceremony started. You clenched your hand into a fist and the next second you slammed it into the wall with all the strength you had. The blow was so strong that your hand began to bleed, but you ignored it because physical pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside your soul. As if under a spell, you kept hitting the wall, leaving bloodstains on it. 

Five hours later, you are sitting in the restaurant area of the Plaza, waiting for Paul Allen to join you for lunch. Since you had some time before your flight to Chicago, you thought it would be good to catch up with him and talk a little about your current situation at your new job.

Maybe I can get a fresh start here...

Rocking in your seat, you looked down at your bruised hand, which was covered in a tight white bandage, and luckily you managed to stop the bleeding without going to the hospital, but you were still a little nervous, though not because of your wound. What if Paul would tell you that there was no way you could return to New York because the company in Chicago wouldn't let you go? You tapped your fingers on the table in anxiety before picking up the New York Times to distract yourself. One page, then another, until an interesting article appeared in your vision–a luxurious tobacco store in Upper Manhattan had been robbed–the very store you always liked to visit and even dreamed of buying a collection of cigars to give to Patrick...

"(Y/n)! How have you been?" Paul's cheerful voice echoed across the room and when you turned to face him, you noticed that he looked even more tanned than the last time you saw him. 

"Oh, hi," you accepted his handshake and then Allen took a seat across from you. "I've been better," your other hand was still holding a newspaper and it caught Paul's attention. "What about you?"

Paul nodded in understanding. "Well, my job kicks my ass, is all I can say," he laughed, and before you could say anything else, he pointed to the copy of the New York Times. "What are you reading?"

Slightly embarrassed, you folded the paper and put it aside. "Times," you replied briefly. "The tobacco store I liked to visit was robbed in broad daylight. Can you imagine that?"

Allen shifted in his seat. "I didn't know you frequented places like this," he chuckled, finally opening the menu. "Because I don't remember you smoking."

Smirking, you leaned back in your chair. "You don't know anything about me, Allen," you took a sip of your wine and watched him tense up a bit. "Anyway, I just got a little upset because I wanted to buy something in this store for..." you suddenly stammered, feeling dizzy.

"For...?" Paul arched his eyebrows and looked at you suspiciously.

"For a person... ," you finished. "...a very special one."

"Your date?" The man asked in a playful tone. "And who might that be?"

You found this situation quite ironic, because you really imagined yourself going to that store and buying those fucking cigars, hoping they would impress Bateman, and now you ended up fucking his best friends because he married Evelyn Williams.  

As you propped yourself up on your elbow, you suddenly started to laugh, but then it turned into a pathetic whimper. "I'm so fucked up, Allen," you shook your head and gripped the table. "You can't even imagine how... fucked up... I am."

And I don't know how I'm going to survive this.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[evilbihan]

Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father was not a good father

And now it's no longer a theory. Now I have proof.

The last thing I expected to get out of this very strange invasions mode season was confirmation for a theory I've had ever since I first finished the story mode. Despite other characters in the game claiming that the father of the Lin Kuei brothers was an honorable man, something about that never sat right with me, given how cruel that man was in all the previous timelines and how vastly different Bi-Han views his father compared to his brothers, Liu Kang or Sindel.

I made this discovery on the mesa of Shang Tsung's laboratory.

At the very beginning of the mesa when you come in through the portal and head to the right (your character's right) towards the two crates that are next to each other, there's a node featuring a fight against Scorpion.

That node, loosely translated from my language, is called "Daddy's favorite".

It might seem like a small and meaningless detail and maybe I'm reading too much into it, but if the name of that node is anything to go by and if it's a reference to MK1's canon lore (which it has to be, otherwise I don't see why it would be there) this adds a whole new layer to the tragedy of the falling out between Bi-Han and Kuai Liang and Bi-Han's decision to let his father die.

Was he neglected? Despite being the oldest son and the grandmaster's heir, Kuai Liang was the favorite son. He was his father's pride and joy, not Bi-Han. That explains Bi-Han's bitterness and his resentment towards his father as well as his eagerness to earn the respect of others. Because his own father didn't give that to him.

Sub-Zero: I helped you, but I've earned no respect. General Shao: Because there's nothing lower than a traitor.

Johnny Cage: I thought I had daddy issues. But you? Sub-Zero: My family is none of your business.

Would a good father have a "favorite son"? Should a good father not love his sons equally, without picking favorites?

Another small but noteworthy detail is one of Bi-Han's invasions mode encounters being named "Joyless initiate" (again, loosely translated because my game is in my native language, not English). You have to wonder what kind of life Bi-Han lived for the game to refer to him that way and how much of that is owed to his father's strictness or lack of care towards him since he wasn't the favorite son. It certainly implies Bi-Han faced hardships that the main story never really talked about or even mentioned.

It might not seem like much, but I'm sure some thought was put into making these nodes and the references and hints exist for a reason.

I'm aware that a lot of people think the father of the Lin Kuei brothers was a good guy, but as a reminder, in the original timeline, Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father was ruthless enough to kidnap the brothers from their mother, potentially even killing her and their younger sister in the process, and turned them both into assassins for the Lin Kuei. Of course, the reboot is set in a new timeline, but as I said in my previous post, all characters are still essentialy the same. Some backstories and allignments have changed, but not the character's personalities and even in this new era, the old grandmaster is no saint.

I think it's messed up that his response to the Lin Kuei killing Smoke's entire family and turning him into an orphan was to take Tomáš in and turn him into a warrior for the very clan that murdered his family.

Sure, some might view it as a noble gesture that he took responsibility for the mistake he made and decided to give Tomáš a home after he was orphaned, but if that man cared at all about Smoke's wellbeing, he could have found a better solution for the situation. He could have told Liu Kang about what happened and asked him to let Tomáš stay at the Wu Shi academy instead of turning him into an asset for the clan that killed his mother and sister.

While that's only a side note, it proves that Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father had a twisted idea of what it means to be a good parent if he thought that taking in the son of a family his own warriors murdered was the "honorable" thing to do without sparing a second thought to what that was going to do to Smoke mentally.

Anyway, this subtle hint is one of the few good things to come out of this invasions mode season and I'm glad I found it.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Now that there's an animated adaptation of Midnight Sun coming, and given the industry's recent track record (see: Minecraft Movie), what's the worst, bad faith, cash grab adaptation idea you can imagine? I figure if we inoculate ourselves then the reality won't suck so much.

My nightmare: Streaming has a long history of making shitty attempts at "adult animation", so we'll get an Edward who constantly cusses and does lewd jokes. It'll be like the HBO adult animated Velma (Scooby Doo) show where the writers' disdain for the characters fills every scene. The first episode will focus on how Carlisle helps plan a murder of some overly suspicious deputy so they can keep living in Forks.

Anyways, worst case theories? So we can feel better when it's not THAT bad? Or else use the apollo prophecy meme on your post a year or two from now.

My 'realistic' prediction

Twilight: The Edgy Animated Adult Series with Twelve Times More Drugs and Swearing

Oh man, yours is worse than mine. I mean this guessing the future business is a little silly in general, but I think that wouldn't happen as Twilight's not...

How do I put this?

Scooby Doo is a beloved, vintage, IP that's so well-known it's a part of American culture/Americana. It's in that weird place where it's acceptable to do edgy reboots of it because everyone already knows the premise of the Scooby gang, each individual character, the bad guys, and their mysteries.

You don't have to explain who any of the characters are supposed to be, so you get a "ah ha ha ha isn't it funny that Velma swears now?" because you know she's from a 1960's cartoon.

Twilight's not quite old enough for that and, at least in my opinion, not pervasive enough for that. It was a huge sensation, but was never as big as HP, and dominated only a subset of the YA audience (female-targeted YA romance). Ask a person off the street and the most they can probably, maybe, tell you is "sparkly vampires and Team Edward and Team Jacob". So, at best you get riffs like we saw when Twilight came out with the Simpsons and various other parodies where the parodies... really didn't know what to do with the characters or what it was even about. "Milhouse turns into a poodle, I guess? Is that funny? It's funny, right?"

Twilight just isn't old enough and as big as it was, I don't think was widespread enough.

So, I think we're going to get an earnest reboot.

But you do now have me concerned. And I may be eating my words later on this post and reblogging with a clown face.

Other Theories

Alright, let's see what we've got/what we can come up with:

Yours: HBO adult comedy horror fest

Mine: Boring, Snoozeville, Tame, Generically Arted Palatable Twilight that is Designed to Be as Appealing as Possible

Other options I can think of are...

Interview with a Vampirepalooza/Oh God I Don't Know What's Popular: given the recent success of Interview with a Vampire, an edgier adult story with adult characters, Netflix will look to make Twilight their exact own version of that. Except they won't understand what made it work there. We sexy it up but in a CW way, the kids are all still in high school but the fact that the Cullens are fucking each other is brought up relentlessly in an edgy way. The vampires all look hot, hot, hot but in a normal human way where you're not terrified they're some crystal robot out to eat your limbs. We'll keep some of the artsy weird dialogue, but Edward will be both somehow made more sympathetic (as he is the lead we end up with) and 'dark' where he's dangerous in a sexy way and not in a "you smell like my personal heroin way".

The Buffy Route: remember that one teen show from the 90's that was so good it spun off an entire genre of television that essentially hadn't existed before? Twilight becomes a fun teen oriented show where the characters say witty, fun, teenage-like things and get into episodic mysteries while somehow trying to remain in the realm of Twilight. Edward loses his edge, Bella loses her unrelatable nature, and we really play up every time a character has a funny line and write a lot more in there. Unfortunately, it's not a well written teen comedy show and so the lines are just generally bad and the plot never seems to go anywhere and it's just boring.

Hannibal the Twilight: some really artsy director gets involved and we now have a show where the symbolism of Edward walking around as a man-deer takes over the entire fucking thing. Nothing ever happens, Edward just shows up in Bella's dreams as a snarling man deer. When characters talk to each other, it's in artsy nonsense dialogue where it feels like both are reading 2000's era chatbot scripts to one another as they mix metaphors about ponies, china pottery, and dust motes. The plot is so non-existant the only important episodes to watch in a season are the premier and finale, except even then it's unclear what happened.

Audience Input

Anyone else got any wild guesses here?

[deercliff]

i needed to draw sexy art of crowsharks or i was going to go insane. you can see a penis version over on my nsfw bluesky because cohost died RIP to a legend <3 anyway follow there if you want the good good and also you are 18+ and not my mom.

[whatkindofromance]

Analysing the Soap x Ghost ship 🫡

(looking at the reboot MW2 for this post but might dabble in MW3 & og goap later on…)

Kicking off with my most controversial opinion…The most important quote for this ship is when ghost tells soap:

“Friendship is not in the field manual,Johnny.”

This sentence in itself if a hilarious contradiction. Ghost rejects the formality of using sgt or his callsign and opts for the personal first name usage. I think this serves as a metaphor for their entire relationship where Ghost puts up boundaries and adheres to formality with his colleagues, unless it’s soap. This quote is interpretable as ‘I don’t have personal connections with colleagues, but I will reject that notion for soap.’

Another, far more blatant, show of the bond between these two soldiers is this interaction between soap and Alejandro

A: “I can’t call soap ‘Johnny’…”

S: “don’t. Only Ghost can pull that off.”

I’m sorry…WHAT 😀 I don’t know if this is my personal experience but when someone is given a nickname in a group environment (e.g. sports teams, friend group, in this case military task force) it will always be a nickname for the group. The ONLY times I’ve ever had people say “only ‘…’ can call me that” is when the nickname was given to them by either a family member or a significant other.

BUT… how do we know they’re more than just really close buddies?? I hear the masses ask… Well, as with most ships there is no blatant declaration or concrete evidence for for this paring however what I find sets these two apart from other queer ships is the lack of denial. Soap and Ghost never explicitly state anything regarding either their sexuality or their love interests. The closest thing we get the topic is the light banter discussing Ghost’s appearance/attractiveness.

S: “are you ugly?”

G: “quite the opposite”

This is just one many snippets of dialogue between the pair where the tone of conversation tips from just banter to flirtatious banter. There are to many more examples I could give for that. I know it’s very common for straight men to jokingly flirt with each other (I coach a male sports team they’re insufferable) but as ghost said before, friendship’s not in the field manual.

In addition to this, ghost and particularly soap are shown having close friendships to other characters. It’s mostly Alejandro and Rudy in mw2, and they’re shown exchanging nicknames and banter, but it lacks the same flirtation and closeness shared between soap and ghost.

Ghost is a cold man and throughout gameplay he is shown to be unwavered by his teammates and fellow soldiers deaths. I understand that this is a necessary factor for him doing his job however it contrasts heavily with how he treats soap in the mission Alone. He stays behind endangering his own life to help soap’s escape. There is also a tone of worry evident in his voice when Johnny is shot and when he can’t get a hold of him immediately on the command. He doesn’t express emotion in this way to any other character.

While he trusts the whole 141 and Los Vaqueros with seeing his face, he never treats anyone as if they’re more than a teammate. He conducts himself incredibly professionally in that sense, until he’s talking to soap. I really feel like the character is able to separate the idea of ‘trusting’ a teammate and ‘liking’ a teammate.

I could yap for days about this but these were just some of my more pressing thoughts.

[ya-zz]

Could I have some Ramattra with memory loss? Like something happened making him forget Zen and the reader?

I want some angst I am DESPERATE.

Just like a human, all it would take was a hit to the head for something to occur within their body. Concussion, memory loss, bleeding or worse.

When Ramattra finally rebooted, his optics adjusting from the black screen he had been staring at to the blurry white room, his system runs through every diagnostic possible. There was the odd error of internal heating issues and some minor damage to his head, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

You had spent the last two days repairing him, so seeing his lights flash blue and then red, brought some relief to your body.

"Ramattra? How are you feeling?"

You watch as the omnic laying on the table sits up, his fans speeding up to let cool air in after being trapped between his chassis and the table.

"Brother?" Zenyatta perks up from his meditative state. Having not left the workshop at all since he was brought in, the panic finally settles in his own system.

Ramattra looks at you and then to Zenyatta. His optics shift, his head tilts to the side.

You scoot back in the chair, the wheels rolling against the floor. Something was off. "Ramattra?"

He looks back at you. "Yes?"

A shaky breath escapes you before it gets stuck in your throat.

"Do I know you?" The larger omnics voice makes your heart stop.

Your eyes widen. "What-?"

Zenyatta stands next to you, optics meeting Ramattra's. "Brother, you do not remember [y/n]?"

"I do not remember either of you."

You could feel Zenyatta's hand tighten on your shoulder.

"What do you remember?" The lump in you throat only grew as you fought back tears. The one omnic you had grown to love... no longer remembers you.

His processors start running through the memory logs; muffled talking, sobbing and clanking fill up the last two days. Before that, he recalls walking down the hallway, boxes in hand as he was beginning to move quarters before he slips. The sudden thud and then black follows.

"You were going to move into [y/n]'s room." Zenyatta speaks up. "We had meditation in the garden afterwards."

"I remember, though I cannot place your face's." Ramattra tilts his head to the side, a feeling of guilt passing through him that only gets worse when he sees your tears.

"It's okay," you sniffle. "We have time."

Zenyatta chuckles, though he can sense your pain. "I suppose we can get to know each other all over again."

You nod, liking the sound of the smaller monks idea.

Ramattra nods once, a familiar burn coursing through his wires. He wants to remember. Seeing you crying tugs at his mechanical heart. Your voice and sobs... they are familiar.

"I would like that. Perhaps, we can retrace my steps first?"

[secundareforged]

"In the ancient dome of ever-forgotten, within that mistful wound and sea of omens - you are Archone, a rapture of rapacious age, a creature of all-malice, all elation - on the trope towards insatiable, sanguine and morbid. "Secunda Reforged" is an free-to-acess reboot of project "Secunda: Story of the North", written and described anew, within a firmer moderation and gentle overview."

First gentle omen amidst a dozen more! Main illustration for menu and the cover of the book is now elated on - and whole variety is yet so striving on our furthermores<зз

First chapter 's soon ongoing - with aching and awaiting so long face, concluded by the words of thirty thousands, and furthermore it gets:

Fully rewritten book of three acts cognised - of Temple, Ribcage and then Spine, of over 40 chapters, too, envisioned.

Seven beloveds - four men, one woman, one - none of them, and one - all of above.

Customizable presence of main character! Choose amidst two physical dispositions, three - ways to be addressed, and, too, variety of face's archetypes and hairstyles and clothes - more to be gradually, too, concluded.

Please follow our gradual elation for project soon to be unveiled - for that there's many kisses, loves, adores on evermore!<зз

[imnayeonjaem]

days at the beach | j.wy

"nothing could be more perfect.."

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

character(s): jung wooyoung (x gn!reader)

tags: established relationship, beach, ocean, playful wy, very short and sweet, just fluff

word count: 433

summary: just a short and cute drabble about wy and reader at the beach;;

a/n: suddenly got inspired to write a short drabble of wy at the beach;; i hope you enjoy!

Days at the beach were always your favourite.

You couldn't decide which part you liked best: marvelling at how the waves lapped the shore, collecting all the pretty rocks that caught your eye or the sound of your boyfriend's laughter as he sprinted to land beside you with a contagiously exuberant thud.

Yeah, it was definitely the last one.

Wooyoung shook his wet hair out, causing you to squeal as cool splotches spread all over your body. “Hey!”

“Sorry!” he said with his head downturned. He was wringing out strands of his hair between his hands as though his palms were a towel, ignoring the very real one laying in between you both. Eventually, you held the towel out to him with an amused grin on your face, and his brain crashed then rebooted before he took it with a loving thank you.

“You're welcome, my love,” you replied in a sing-song fashion. “Water cold?”

“Very,” he answered with a frightful brr, “but incredibly nice. Very refreshing.”

Resting your chin in the palm of your hand, elbow on your knee, you hummed, “Glad to hear it.”

Wooyoung glanced over at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Wanna join?”

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled before nudging you. “In a bit. I wanna enjoy the sun a bit more.” You stretched out your legs and put both hands behind you with your palms resting flat on the towel.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. “Gives me a chance to dry off a bit.” He laid down on his back and closed his eyes, letting the warm breath of the sun soak up the sea specks that adorned him.

After a few seconds, you found yourself looking over.

Wooyoung looked so peaceful lying there, like a sea star that had found the perfect coral reef to rest all its tired limbs. You smiled in a similarly serene manner, taking in the calm that came with sitting beside your partner and soaking up a day’s rest on the beach.

Not before long you were lying beside him, your hand on his chest and your head resting against his shoulder. He tucked an arm around you and placed a kiss on your head, and you could subtly feel the damp strands of hair that hadn't yet dried, as well as the faint gristle of the sand that surrounded you.

In the distance, the dance of the waves made the perfect background noise as the two of you were softly lulled to sleep.

Nothing could be more perfect than days at the beach with Wooyoung.

× silverdune (ave). do not repost. ×

[morganwrites12672]

Evan Buckley x Reader

Summary: Buck needs some comfort after losing someone at work.

Reader info: Firefighter!Reader, Female!Reader

A/N: Send in some Evan Buckley requests! Also don't forget to reboot and leave a comment! I would also like to add I am really proud of this.

-------------------------------------------------------

Buck was extremely quiet on the drive home. He hadn't been telling you some crazy story of how he saved someone while you were busy else where. And when you did get to see his heroic saves it always made you so happy. The way he smiled once the person was safe was to die for.

Not tonight. He hadn't smiled once. He sat in the passenger seat, fidgeting with his hands. Another weird thing. He usually had his hand on your thigh no matter who was driving. Tonight, he kept his hands to himself. A very un-Buck thing to do.

As you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment building, you saw Buck look up. He seemed to of snapped out of whatever daydream he was in and grabbed his phone as you parked.

As the two of you walked back to the apartment, Buck grabbed your hand. He held on tighter than usual.

Once you two had reached the apartment, after a walk filled with silence. You knew you had to help him. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Buck, I was only there for half a shift, did something happen?" You ask placing your hands on either side of his face.

His eyes looked glassy and he sighed before opening his mouth. He closed it immediately. He couldn't find the words to explain the tragedy.

"I, it." He took a deep breath before continuing, "There was a boy. He was practically a kid, early 20's. We couldn't save him. I couldn't save him," Buck said as a tear slid down his cheek.

Your heart tote apart as you watched Buck fall apart. You pulled him into a hug as sobs wracked his body. You held him. That was all you could do for him right now.

Being a paramedic was hard. Everyone lost someone eventually, usually more often than most would like. But it was part of the job. You just had to focus on who you saved, not who you lost. That was the unspoken rule on the job.

You had to move on right then and there. Other people needed you. But when you get home, everything falls apart. Emotions can't be suppressed forever.

Buck pulled away from the hug with red rimmed eyes and he kicked off his shoes. You walked up the stairs to your shared bed as he sniffled.

He pulls his shirt off and throws it into a corner before plopping down. You join him on the bed and he instantly wraps his arms around your body.

"What do you need?" You whisper and place a kiss on his bicep.

"I just need you," he whispers back. His grip loosens (he was worried he was hurting you) and he begins to succumb to the heaviness in his eyes. As he falls asleep you watch his chest rise and fall.

He was almost peaceful as he slept. The pain and horrible emotions were no were to be seen. He looked peaceful as he slept. You would almost say happy but you know that's a lie. Almost isn't. But after the day he's had.