#some questions repeated but I removed double answers

[flamingpudding]

He's my clockwork appointed babysitter, not dad.

They failed, even they managed to beat all the cultist in time. The ritual was still completed. The leader was laughing like a maniac until Hood hit him hard with the butt of his gun, knocking the guy out cold finally. With held breaths, they watched how smoke rose from the ritual circle higher and higher until it started to form a black shadow with stars as eyes and too many teeth and limps. Batman was on his way with Constantine. Maybe they could at least contain whatever that was until they arrived.

"Who in the name of all good and holy dared to summon me?!" A static scratchy voice echoed in their ears.

No one dared to answer at first but of course Red I-fear-nothing Hood had to open his mouth earning him death glares from his siblings. "Aren't you like a demon? Why would you mention anything good and holy?"

That think was blinking at them and Tim did a double take when that think moved its many limps like it was rubbing the back of its neck.

"In the name of all bad and cursed then?" It sounded unsure still a booming echo like voice but unsure. They shared a look. Dick opened his mouth, ready to say something when suddenly a familiar voice shouted from behind them.

"Cut the crap kid! They are the Batsie and his birds belong to the good!"

They turned to see Constantine marching in with Batman right behind him. The man was throwing the but of his cigarette way as he went right up to that demon. Which apparently was not one because right as the Brite was up to it a puff of greenish some blocked their view for a moment before a white haired child stood where the demon had been seconds ago.

"The hell you doing out here kid. I told you to stay at home."

"You try resisting a summon when your all new to the fact that you can get summoned!"

"Your going to make my hair gray faster, you little chaos gremlin."

"Aw love you too!"

"Uh Constantine?" They had question of of them was that Constantine was apparently familiar with that child, demon, whatever.

"Right." The man lit another cigarette but before he could even take one drag of it he side eyed the child staring up at him before he flicked it to the side. "Bats my demon son, Danny the Bats."

"Demon son?"

"Actually I am-" They watched how Constantine covered the child's, Danny's, mouth with his hand shushing the boy.

"What did I tell you about interdimensional secrets? That's right, do not talk about them to just anyone. We are not repeating the Green Lantern incident."

Should they feel offended? It felt like they should. They weren't just anyone.

"Constantine." Batman gruffly warned, but the man held up one hand towards them. Batman was definitely offended that Green Lantern got to learn something he wasn't getting to know on Constantine's watch.

"One moment Batsie. I need to- did you gremlin just lick my hand?!"

The moment Constantine removed his hand the child stuck his tongue out at the JL Dark member and made a break for it to hide behind Batman.

"Get back here you little..."

"No! I am always stuck at home, and you promised me I would get to see the watchtower at last month!"

Batman blocked Constantine from getting to who was apparently the man's demon son. Staring at the man as the boy grinned in triumph.

"Mate get out of the way, this kid needs to get grounded again."

"For what?"

"Being a chaos gremlin that won't listen."

The rest of the batfam had only one burning question on their mind. "Which demon was willing enough to have a child with Constantine?"

Well, except for Tim who had caught the little tidbit of interdimensional secret and was wondering who Danny really was.

[bon2bonn]

Don't Hold Your Breath

22!f1!grid X female!driver!reader

Words count : 9##?, 1k, Maybe 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Warnings: not proof read , grammar.

Back to 🏁The Grid 🏎️

Fireworks went off as she crossed the finish line in first place, about 24 seconds ahead of the second place that was taken by max and over 35 seconds ahead of Lewis in third.

The radio cracked as the message went through congratulating her on the win " that was P1 , P1 Y/N , well done " she hummed in reply while flexing her wrists as she drove her cooling lap before pitting in the assigned P1 spot and moved calmly to climb out her car , stretching her back before heading straight to get weight then to the stand where she discarded off her helmet and gloves then took a towel to dry her face and hands after she washed them with cool water , moving to sit on the said stand in waiting for the other two drivers who got out of their respective cars and went to their awaiting teams behind the barricades .

She kicked her legs back and forth in boredom , leaning her weigh back on her hands as she watched her team cheering for her teammate as he reached them then took another drink of water , waiting for the day to be over with .

Max stood before her with a bewildered face and nudged her to make space to sit beside her " you ...... What had gotten into you?! " She only shrugged and offered him a bottle which he took and drank it all while he was still looking at her " who pissed you off ? " she gave him a pointed look then shrugged again " you could take some guesses , might all be correct " he nod cautiously before he was called to get interviewed,. before the podium, switching with Lewis who congratulate her with the same bewildered look " you scare the shit out of me out there! " She nod at him with a shrug then removed the towel from her head to undo the braids of her hair and covered it again , huffing when it was her turn to go .

She took the mic and waited for the questions, and they didn't disappoint " what a spectacular race Y/N ! P15 to P1! How does it feel? " She waited for the crowd to calm after a long minute then replied calmly " not much honestly " he cleared his throat and asked again " and what a comeback we witnessed today! A redemption as some might say . How's the car with the new upgrades and the ...." She cuts him off with a deadpanned stare " what redemption ? . They kept on questioning and I gave them an answer . By a holly grace it might actually shut them up this time , but a girl could only hope " she rolled her eyes before fixing them on still standing Merc team behind the host and pointed out " And by the way , I didn't get any upgrades this round " he asked with raised eyebrows " pardon ? " She tilted her head and repeated " there weren't any upgrades on my car throughout the last two races, there was meant to be on this round but for some reason there weren't approved yet " he stuttered then concluded with " well it seems like you didn't need them today after all ......ah . Anything else to add ? " She shrugged with a relaxed smirk " those RB and Aston Martin contracts looks pretty good right now " making heads turn her way as the host struggled to hold his voice steady but he concluded " Well , congratulations on the win and we wish you all the best " she nod then handed the mic back .

The other two were already seated in the cool down room , waiting for her arrival as they were looking at the highlights, sharing a look of deadpan between them with the double overtake she made up to P5 where she almost slammed the wall while being pressured by checo , then at the jump her car took when Lando pumped her left back tire on the second turn , it was something to watch to the end and when she sat down on the vacant chair they turned to stare at her as she took another bottle of water along with a towel to dry her hair then used it to cover her face as she leaned back and got comfortable as if nothing happened .

She stood on the podium with her hands clapped behind her back as her national anthem played , followed by the German anthem, then shook a couple of hands as they handed out the trophies , she congratulate the other two , turned to look up at balcony above them and held her trophy with a wide grin for the flashing cameras , and picked up her given champagne bottle and head out , nodding at other teams who congratulate her and beelined to the Mercedes garage with a purpose . She paused by the Red Bull garage for a moment and held her champagne bottle when Horner took notice of her standing there , in turn he tipped his hat in acknowledgement, both turned and went on with their day .

Her head was held high when she slammed the trophy on top of the table, right infront of Toto who locked his jaw when she flashed her award winning smile sweetly at him as she nod to the trophy " you can keep it , but don't hold your breath , it won't be the last " then headed to her side where her engineer sat back and reviewed some data , and held the bottle with a beaming smile watching him look between her and the bottle before he took it with a tired sigh then scolded " you! , you give me gray hair " she snorted and pointed out " what hair are you talking about!? You're as bold as an egg ! " He rolled his eyes and accused " I lost it trying to not lose my marbles on a daily basis with you as my driver! " She awed and nudged this shoulder with hers " you know you love me " it was his turn to scoff " yeah yeah , and the pay is another bounce " she gasped dramatically " you're only in it for the money?! " He deadpanned at her after popping the bottle and took a long sip " no , I'm in it for your sparkling personality " both glared at eachother before bursting out laughing .

[lbibliophile-sw]

Proof of ID

Also on AO3 [710w] @ailesswhumptober - day 20: accidental de-aging, "I'm not qualified for this shit" @corrieweek - day 3: "you shouldn't be here"

Fox lets himself slump as he climbs into the covered Guard speeder, finally escaping the top-priority meeting on… whatever it was. Thorn and Thire were also there – a waste, of resources, honestly, thankfully Stone was able to escape – so they can catch him up on anything actually important. It’s not like the natborns listen to their advice half the time anyway.

“Hey Fox, are you ok? Only, you were quieter than usual in there.”

“’m fine, Thire. Just tired.”

And he is, down to his bones. The sort of tired that comes from a multi-day blackout mission that has him ‘waking up’ only to face the entirety of his usual gruelling double shift ahead of him. He wants nothing more than to collapse on his bunk for a solid six hours, but instead, he has meetings, and datawork backlog, and whatever else comes up… Just the mere thought is enough for him to remove his helmet and rub at his aching eyes.

“Trooper!” Fox stiffens reflexively at Thorn’s Command voice, despite having spent the past two years as the highest-ranked clone on-planet. “Why are you wearing Commander Fox’s armour?”

Fox blinks at him, struggling to push his sluggish brain into gear. Why… is he wearing… his armour? Because it’s his? And he’s on duty?

“Oh! Is Fox alright? I mean, obviously not, since he sent you in his place. But I’m assuming he’s with Zontal? Or wait, is he not all back yet after the blackout? It has been longer than usual so I guess that might be a struggle.”

What?

“I have to say, you did a pretty good job of copying his body language. Until you took the helmet off, I really did think that it was just Fox having an off day; most people wouldn’t have noticed anything at all! How would you feel about being on call for a repeat performance? Anything to get Fox to rest occasionally.”

“Thire!” Thorn finally forces his way through the babbling. “Just, shut up. And you’re going straight to bunk when we get back, your triple-shift is showing. Now, Trooper, sitrep. And your name.”

“Uh, Fox?” It shouldn’t sound like a question – his name is the one answer he does have right now – but shouldn’t they know it too?

“It’s ok, you don’t have to keep pretending here. We sweep the speeders for bugs, and we already know you’re covering for him, besides –”

“Thire, enough. Let the shiny speak.”

“I’m not a shiny.” Thorn snorts.

“Maybe not a shiny, then. But you still can’t be more than, what, eight? Nine at a stretch?”

“I’m thirteen. I’m Fox. And you’re being mean. If this is revenge for saving your shebs when you tried to block that Senator’s access because you thought she was her own daughter…”

“What did you just say? No, seriously, I made Fox swear to never tell anyone about that.”

“I keep telling you I am Fox. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Ok. Ok. So, not body doubles, but Force osik. Maybe.” Thorn rummages in his belt pouches as he mutters to himself, finally pulling out some sort of case with a bright metal finish. “Here. I’m having a hard time believing you, because this is what you look like right now.”

Fox takes the case, holding it up so the smooth surface shows his reflection. He twists it back and forwards just to make sure. He raises his free hand to trace the smooth skin of his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, watching the movement in the improvised mirror.

“Thorn. Thorn, someone stole my face.”

Thire reaches back to awkwardly pat him on the knee.

“Look on the bright side, at least you still have your helmet. You keep it on most of the time anyway.”

“But it was my face!”

“Alrighty,” Thorn interrupts the impeding meltdown. He is in a speeder with three-quarters of Coruscant Guard Command, he should not be having flashbacks to Kamino and cadet-duty. “I’m driving us back to base. Then you two are going to go to sleep, while I have an adult conversation with Zontal to try and figure this out. Any further discussion can wait until after those steps are completed. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes Thorn.”

[221beloved]

Acorn, Chestnut, Pine Cone

(Link to ao3)

“John?”

John turned his eyes away from the trees, which were slowly changing their colour at this time of year, to look at Sherlock, walking next to him. “Yes, love?”

“They are eating gingerbread.”

“What?” John didn’t see anyone eating gingerbread, nor did he understand what Sherlock wanted to tell him with that observation.

“There!” Sherlock nodded to their left, and indeed, there was a couple sitting on a bench, happily munching, an open packet of gingerbread standing next to them.

John frowned. “Okay. And… what now?”

Sherlock turned to stare at him, his eyes wide, his expression almost shocked.

“John!” he called out in disbelief. “They, are eating, gingerbread!”

“Yes…?” John really didn’t get the point. “We’ve established that. What now?”

“It’s warm enough for them to sit on a bench in the park, yet they are eating gingerbread, John! Christmas is two months away!”

John blinked at the man, a little surprised at Sherlock’s outburst, then broke into giggles and nudged Sherlock’s hip.

“Wow, I knew that you pretend you don’t like Christmas, but that you’re so sensitive to people eating food that’s associated with the season, wow…”

Sherlock huffed next to him. “I do not pretend not to like it. I don’t have to.”

John tilted his head. “You seem contend enough when we’re decorating and having a nice time.”

“Well, you do like Christmas, for some reason that I cannot fathom, and since I like you there is some kind of… acceptance towards it.”

John grinned. “Hm, yes. Acceptance.”

“But only when it’s spend with you,” Sherlock added. “Only you. Well okay, Mrs. Hudson can come up as well if she needs to, but more I just can’t withstand!”

“Hm, I think your mother usually starts calling you in early October to ask you to attend Christmas dinner, right? Shouldn’t be long until her first call.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sherlock grumbled in remembrance of the yearly tradition of her asking and him refusing until the last possible moment.

“You know, it would be much easier if you’d just tell her, yes mummy, I will attend Christmas dinner, thank you for the invitation, yes I will bring John, yes, no gifts this year.”

“It would be much easier if she wouldn’t call me two times a week for almost two months to pester me about the same thing.”

“But would you come then?”

Sherlock decidedly didn’t answer that question, instead he kicked a chestnut that had the audacity to lay on the way.

“Oi!” John blurted. “Don’t you dare treat chestnuts like that.”

Sherlock looked up at him in confusion. “What?”

“We used to build little figurines out of them.”

Sherlock only blinked at him. “What?” he repeated dumbly.

“Didn’t you? In primary school? They’d give you chestnuts, sometimes acorns, some toothpicks, and then you could build little chestnut men. I’ll show you a picture when we’re home.”

“That’s…” Sherlock lifted his brows almost appreciatively and nodded. “That’s surprisingly ridiculous. Bordering on hideous, even for primary school.”

John chuckled. “No! It was a very serious matter for us. Once one of us had found the first chestnut of the year we’d look forward to the day our teacher would come to class with a bag of them.”

Sherlock eyed him with a strange look, shaking his head. “I can’t believe that I’m sharing a flat with you, let alone my bed.”

John’s grin turned to a soft smile. “It’s because you love me, you nutter.”

“Yes. Yes I do. And I’ll never stop. Well, as long as you don’t start building those chestnut things again.”

They stared at each other for a moment, then both doubled over with laughter.

The rest of the way home was without any more disturbances, chestnuts and Christmas forgotten for the moment.

--

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[shimii26]

Not Always Peaches And Cream

61 days after the crash…

“F-Four months of food left?” Anya repeated back to Jimmy who had relayed out the reality of the situation to each of the crew members.

“Yeah, Daisuke double counted what we’ve got left minus what’s probably left in the vending machines.” Jimmy confirmed. “If we have the discipline, it should last us the same amount of time as our remaining air supply.”

“I suppose that means no more mocktails by Daisuke on the weekends…” Anya mumbled under her breath.

The Pony Express crew had been under emergency protocol and off course from their original travel path for the past two months, with a distress signal seemingly being sent out to hopefully nearby rescue stations everyday, the team had gone through what could be extracted initially from the foam without tools and evaluated what wasn’t damaged from the blast. While their ship wasn’t prepared enough for emergencies as is, a good half of the supplies they did have were either destroyed or hidden under the foam, and most likely wouldn’t be accessible as it would be too risky to remove too much of the foam for the chance there could be another foam trigger. It was clear for all of them that while they were waiting for rescue, they would have to make do with using any supply sparingly and with thought, or risk starving to death before help arrived.

Curly was already causing quite a bit of conflict in how medical supplies were used, he required round the clock care of new dressings, painkillers, and a lingering sense of doom for the crew, considering everyone besides Jimmy was under the impression that this whole situation was his fault. Nevertheless, the team agreed to keep him alive and do what they could to reduce some of his suffering, but it wasn’t an easy task given the fact that Curly was basically completely helpless. With no appendages on his limbs and barely any skin left, he was at the mercy of the crew’s help, and couldn’t even communicate to them anything he needed. So due to the unusual language barrier, it was mostly guesswork by Anya and Jimmy who would take turns giving him his painkillers, food rations, water, and maintenance everyday. Anya handled most of the task as she was the crew’s onboard nurse, but lately administering Curly’s painkillers had been difficult for her, the noises he made when she had to insert the pill down his throat was gut-wrenching to put it lightly, each round made her stomach turn worse and worse, which meant Jimmy sometimes had to take her place and take care of it. It wasn’t an easy ask from him after he inserted himself as the new captain, along with Anya having to walk on eggshells around him after he had assaulted her before the crash. She was taken out of her looming deep thoughts about where the crew’s plans would go from here when Jimmy asked her a question she dreaded hearing.

“By the way, have you given Curly his medication today?” Jimmy sternly asked her, knowing he would most likely be the one to do so again.

“...I, w-well u-um…” Anya stuttered, not wanting to upset him with a ‘no’ answer.

He wasn’t in the mood to negotiate with, it was clear he was on edge about a conversation he must’ve had with Swansea about checking the cargo they were hauling all this time. She knew damn well that if she didn’t muster up the courage to bear through the nausea and give Curly his painkillers today, Jimmy would surely take his irritation out on him and further worsen his injuries. He let out a frustrated sigh and took a step forward.

“...I’ll take care of-” Jimmy started, but was cut off by Anya.

“N-No, I-I got it this time…” she interjected, trying to improvise her answer. “...Afterall, ‘People have to be worth their titles’, right?...”

. . .

Jimmy paused before answering. She flinched as he stepped back from her.

. . .

“...Fine, just get on with it. I’d like to sleep tonight without his interruption.” he huffed and turned away, heading for the door back to the lounge. “Keep an eye on Curly while I’m searching for the code scanner.”

“...Y-Yes, Captain…” Anya managed to squeak out, swallowing hard.

Once Jimmy had left the room to look for the code scanner, Anya released the tension in her shoulders and sighed in relief, any chance to take a break from dealing with him was welcome in her book. She had always been wary about her actions around Jimmy ever since he had assaulted her months ago, of course none of it was her fault, but she felt it necessary not to get on his bad side anymore. She leaned against the gurney, turning her head to face Curly, who was now staring at her with concern, he wasn’t shy about the conversation that just happened, he knew what was about to happen now was going to hurt.

“I’m… sorry you had to see me like that, Captain… Let’s get you feeling a bit better, okay?” she whispered to him.

Curly responded with a soft grunt.

After a couple moments of awkward silence and staring, Anya got up and stepped over to the counter where the remaining painkillers lied and she grabbed a bottle, taking out one of the pills inside. Taking a prepared breath, she sanitized one of her hands with the remaining hand sanitizer on her desk and got closer to Curly, trying not to make too much eye contact. She slowly tilted his head back and opened his mouth, readying her hand with the painkiller in it. Squinting her eyes a bit, she quickly inserted her hand into his mouth and hesitated from the slimy yet burnt texture of his tongue. The nausea wasted no time filling the pit of her stomach with its presence, but she knew she had to persevere, so she extended her hand further. Curly’s eyes watered and he began to choke, but attempted to hold it together, knowing that the pain would be over before he knew it. Finally, Anya stuck the pill far enough for Curly to be able to take care of it from there and swallow the painkiller down. Once she knew the pill was gone from her hand, she retracted it without as much care as before due to her panic and foggy mindset from the nausea. Curly flinched and coughed quite hard from the hand removal, gasping a bit for breath. Her hand had quite a bit of blood on it from irritating the more sensitive parts of his throat, a bit of guilt washing over her, she didn’t want to hurt Curly, but she had no other choice of pill administration since he couldn’t swallow properly. She took a couple breaths of relief as she closed his mouth and tilted his head back into its original position.

“...Sorry Curly, but… At least you won’t have to deal with Jimmy tonight now…” Anya reassured him as she wiped his tears away with his hospital gown.

Curly groaned in agreement and settled down a bit.

Anya stepped over to the sink and washed Curly’s blood off her hand, the sickly texture of his mouth still lingering in her mind as the nausea took its usual course. She decided to take a moment to try and settle the feeling and talk to Curly, so she slid her nearby office chair over to his face and bent over slightly to be closer to his eye level.

“...Y’know, despite the fact that I’ve yet to earn my nursing degree from my university, I’m surprised how well my lessons of emergency treatment were retained…” Anya began to trail off in conversation. “I mean, it’s very difficult now to keep the standards all the way given the fact that we’re out of most of the supplies we need to keep you the most comfortable, but we’ve managed to get by so far, right?”

Curly didn’t respond back, his stare giving her no reassurance about her explanation. She took the hint that despite the care she was giving him, he was still in a lot of pain and she sighed.

“...Okay, maybe ‘most comfortable’ isn’t the best description for your situation. But, at least we can keep your pain under control for a little while with the painkillers… But then… I’m unsure where to go from there with your care, pain isn’t easy to ignore without some kind of medical help once they run out…”

Anya placed her hand on Curly’s head, giving it a little pet.

“...But in any case, I won’t abandon you… not with Jimmy around…” she whispered to him, letting her eyes slowly close if just for a moment.

He responded with a little huff, putting all his trust in her better judgement.

Suddenly, Curly’s head jolted up from feeling a sharp pain in his abdomen, his limbs curling up in response too. A harsh, raspy barrage of grunts erupted from his throat as he tried to fight through the pain, the painkiller hadn’t kicked in yet, so he could feel the entirety of what was happening to him.

“C-Curly? Wh-What’s wrong!?...” Anya nervously asked him, getting up from her chair. “Where does it hurt?”

Grrooowwrrlwll…

Curly’s stomach let out an uncomfortably pained and empty noise, the painkiller hadn’t been taken with food, so it’s coating was causing some inside irritation within him.

“...Oh, that’s right…” Anya realized, looking at Curly’s strained expression. “When was the last time you were given something to eat?”

She knew Jimmy was the last person to feed Curly his rations, and he typically never wrote down the times he did so, but it was clear it had been quite some time given Curly’s current predicament. She had to feed him something as quick as possible with the minimum amount of viscosity since he had trouble swallowing and didn’t want to risk choking him. Plus, she couldn’t waste time feeding him slowly as his stomach needed help digesting the painkiller right away, and the more food in immediately, the better the outcome. Anya remembered one of the groups of cans of various foods they had stockpiled after the crash included cans of peaches with their juice, something that Curly should be able to swallow without much struggle. Despite the fact that the whole crew had to make four months worth of rations last six months, he was included in the crew’s calculations, so it wouldn’t be a total loss if a whole can was cracked open for him to eat. Anya gently rubbed his head and tried to softly shush him into a calmer state, eventually he managed to get ahold of himself long enough to listen to her.

“I’ll be right back with something for you Curly, try to breathe deep while I’m away, it should help subside the pain a bit.” Anya reassured him. “I won’t leave you like this, okay?” His exposed eye kept eye contact with her and he nodded, it was clear he was holding a bit of tears back from the pain.

Wasting no time to get back to Curly as quickly as she could, she ran out of the room and into the lounge, stepping into the kitchen area where the majority of their canned food rations lay. Following her finger to guide her eyes to quickly scan the labels of the cans, she managed to find one of the cans of peaches with the fruit juice on the counter. It was much larger in size compared to the other cans of the same product, but right now that didn’t matter to her, Curly needed her help right away, and she wasn’t going to disappoint him and Jimmy about her care for him. A clean enough spoon lay on the counter next to the cans, not the most ideal since it was on the smaller side, but it would do, so she took that with her back through the hallway. Daisuke sat nearby the kitchen and watched silently as Anya panic grabbed one of their ration cans and rushed it to the medical ward. He knew it probably wasn’t a good sign considering the whole crew was just made aware of their need to conserve rations, but he decided to trust her better judgement and didn’t get involved with what was going on. Ripping the top of the can open once she returned to the medical ward, she sat back down in her chair and prepared a scoop of peaches and juice on the spoon and scooted her chair next to Curly, her arms approaching his mouth.

“Relax Curly, this should help you settle back down, okay?” Anya softly whispered, trying to keep her nerves together. “Open up.” He turned his head to face her direction, taking notice of the spoonful of peaches next to his mouth. It wasn’t exactly a meal for someone struggling to heal from an almost complete third degree body burn, let alone balanced and nutritious, but it was clear there was thought put into his current swallowing obstacle. Peaches in a can were quite soft and moist, they could easily slide down his throat with minimal effort, and would be alkalizing enough to speed up the process of the digestion of the painkiller. Curly took a couple of rough breaths before uncurling his body and slowly opening his mouth to receive the food Anya was feeding him, the juice first coating every bit of surface in his throat. Most of his taste buds were destroyed from the blast, but enough remained that he could detect the syrupy goodness of the subpar peach juice, it was almost intoxicating to him. Once his throat was thoroughly lubricated with juice, the peach slice easily slid to the back of his throat without resistance, and he eagerly gulped it down, feeling almost instant relief from finally having something that didn’t taste like cardboard or charcoal. His tongue licked the remaining juice off his teeth, making sure not to miss a single drop. Anya seemed to relax in her seat, knowing Curly was now in a much calmer state of mind. She warmly smiled as she prepared another scoop from the can.

“Heh, you look like you enjoyed that. Haven’t seen you so excited for any of the Pony Express food.” Anya chuckled. “...But I guess any food would taste good if you’re hungry enough for it…Ready for another?”

Curly panted with anticipation, he couldn’t wait for another taste of temporary freedom.

. . .

Freedom from hunger, freedom from pain, freedom from his own personal hell…

. . .

If only just for a little while…

. . .

She spoon fed him another slice, this one almost tasting better than the first, sweeter and juicier, he happily took down the helping, and another, and another. The empty void in his belly fading as it was now filled with the sweet nectar of the Pony Express can ration Anya provided for him, the irritating pain subsiding as the painkiller soon took effect, rushing to his brain and giving him an instant euphoric high. The joy-filled experience for him intensified, he needed more mouthfuls of peaches and their juice, so her administration of each spoonful got a bit faster overtime. Spoonful by spoonful, the can of peaches slowly emptied to about half filled before Curly’s consciousness dwindled and it became harder for him to swallow effectively without coughing a bit. Anya soon realized that his painkillers had taken full effect, so he would most likely be in no condition to continue eating safely, so she decided to call off serving him another peach slice. The can she chose was quite large, so given that Curly managed to consume about half of its contents, he had probably eaten about a pound of peaches and drank a good half liter of the juice, probably a bit much of a portion for someone who hadn’t been able to eat much since the accident, but at least he hadn’t thrown it up like the last couple of feedings he had in the past.

For now, Curly was taken care of, medically distracted from the agonizing pain, and given a hefty meal of sweet bliss. Anya couldn’t hold back a chuckle as a bead of drool rolled down Curly’s mouth and a little snore escaped through his teeth. She could almost hear his stomach softly gurgle with contentment as it got to work extracting whatever nutrients it could from the meal to use towards further healing. If he wasn’t now just an almost inhuman looking pile of unsettling muscle, bone, and memories, the sight of him in this content state would’ve probably been kinda cute. She gave his belly a soft pat after she wiped away the drool off his face, it was one of the only parts of him that wasn’t completely burnt clean off, so she didn’t worry about injuring him with the pat.

‘...You’re not the greatest captain, you’ve let all of us down by not standing up for what’s right, but…’ she shuddered. ‘...Compared to Jimmy… You’ll always be the captain in my eyes… Captain Curly…’ she thought to herself.

Anya looked down into the can of peaches, the smell of them was actually a bit pleasing, enough to pique her appetite as well. She was pulled from her daydreaming and realized that she hadn’t eaten much today herself, and with the fridge in the kitchen no longer operationable from the foam’s impact, it wouldn’t be worth trying to preserve what was left in the can and eat something different. She shrugged and figured it was better to just finish them off for her ‘meal’ and call it a day, unless Jimmy managed to find the code scanner tonight. She stood up and took the spoon over to the sink and gave it a quick rinse before using it to scoop out a slice for herself. It still felt a bit odd eating food straight from a can, but nevertheless, it was technically edible in this manner, so she gave one a taste. To her surprise, the peaches were almost reminiscent of the fruit cups one might pack into the lunch bag of a child, nostalgic in their flavor, and decently seasoned in their own juices. No wonder Curly was so excited to eat them, it was one of the best tasting food can rations the Pony Express probably offered, and the two of them got to share the experience together, albeit not as together right now since he was a bit incapacitated with his painkiller high.

She sat on the edge of the gurney and watched over him as she took her time polishing off the other half of the peaches and juice, making sure not to let any little bits on the side go to waste. If they were going to be sparingly eating their rations to stretch their supply out for an extra two months, every bit from the can might as well be eaten to ensure they were all getting enough to eat when they did. Once all of the peach slices were gone, Anya sipped on the remaining juice and got up, giving Curly a once over check before deciding to step out for a break to maybe speak with Daisuke for a bit. However, once she entered the lounge area, she noticed that he was no longer in his original seat. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, which caused her to jolt a bit, quickly turning around to see who it was. Luckily it was just Daisuke and not Jimmy, but she was now quite irritated with him for scaring her like that.

“Anya?-” Daisuke started, but was cut off from Anya’s yelp.

“-Don’t scare me like that!” she scolded him, keeping the can of peach juice close to her body. “...What’s wrong?”

It was clear that Daisuke was on edge about something, having one hand holding his other elbow as he spoke.

“...Jimmy found the code scanner, and managed to find the combination to our cargo hold… He wants all of us to be there when he opens it.” Daisuke explained.

The cargo hold. The Pony Express didn’t allow the crew to utilize anything from the cargo they were hauling without some kind of reprimand for breaking the rules. But what other choice did the crew have? If anything, it could be of use to them somehow. It’s not like after their possible rescue they were going to finish their transport mission, but then again, The Pony Express wasn’t very kind to those who had just gone through work trauma.

“...Oh, I see.” Anya nodded, keeping her eye contact minimal. “Whatever’s in there, I hope we’re doing the right thing by checking it… Let it be medicine, food, or water. Any of those will be a major help for our situation…”

“I’m keeping my hopes up that that’s the case, and if not… I can’t imagine what we could possibly be transporting for over a year like this.” Daisuke agreed, beginning to make his way down to the cargo hold.

“...I just hope it isn’t dangerous…” Anya mumbled under her breath, not wanting another reason to keep away from Jimmy. “...I’ll be right down.”

“Alright, but don’t take too long, he wants to open the cargo hold tonight.” he said as he turned back around to head down the steps.

She slowly shut her eyes and tried to clear her head, worried about the unknown outcome all of them were about to face by discovering what they had been hauling all this time. If it was survival supplies, then it could be a complete game changer, if it was something completely useless, then the panic would surely wash over them like an overpowering minty teeth cleaner after a serious dental procedure. All they could do was find out now. She opened her eyes back up and gulped down the rest of the peach juice before placing the empty can into the recycling bin nearby in the kitchen, and following not too far behind from Daisuke to meet with the rest of the crew.

It was time to find out what The Pony Express had them transporting all this time…

Mouthwashing characters belong to Wrong Organ ^w^

[moonlightdreamzz]

DUALITY W/ HONGJOONG (S)

REQUEST ✰ “Can you pls write one where he is super kind/nice and quiet in person but behind closed doors they're nasty asf & dominant😭 preferably w yunho, yuta, hongjoong, or mark)🥲or anybody you'd like! :D”

“You want more?”

The two of you are currently at the final destination of your double date—a buffet, and you’re absolutely stuffed. Hongjoong's eyes are warm and submissive as they search yours for a sincere answer, and yet, before you can utter a word he kisses your forehead tenderly before grabbing your cup and taking it to the nearby machine to refill it. You giggle as he walks away, embarrassed by how well he knows you. His prince charming act is also quite comedic, considering his handprint is still on your ass cheek from your festivities last night. It stings, real bad by the way. It doesn’t take long for him to return back to the table, your infamous drink combination filled to the brim of your cup.

“How does it feel to have the sweetest boyfriend in the world?” Your friend, Jaz, questions, which causes her date for the night, San, to bump her shoulder lightly in fake offense.

“Yeah, Y/N. How does it feel to have the sweetest boyfriend in the world?” Hongjoong repeats, his head titling in a manner that seems so innocent. His smirk even seems boyish as he places his straw in his mouth to hydrate, but under the table, his hand is rubbing the inside of your though seductively, encouraging you to answer wisely if you didn’t want to spend the rest of the night begging him to please you.

“Oh,” Your adorn, looking off into the distance dramatically, “He’s the best. I never have to ask for a thing. It’s like he can read my mind.”

His hand softly pats your leg, signifying that you did an outstanding job. He'd certainly whisper "good girl" in your ear if they weren't here, but that's okay. You're patient, and you know you'll be hearing that all night once the two of you go home—if he chooses to reward you tonight, of course.

The four of you continue wrapping up your dinner with you sharing some of your unhealthily sweet stories about your boyfriend. He of course is loving every second of it, but stays humble through your bragging.

“I just love her so much, you know? I just wanna do any and everything for her.” Is all he can respond verbally. His eyes say a multitude of things, though—some sentences you understand without question, and some you know will get answered soon.

The second the door locks behind Hongjoong in your apartment does he instruct you to go wash up, promising you that he’ll be there soon. You learned a long time ago that you can never trust what he says when he’s hungry for you, which is why you’re not surprised when he never shows up. After ensuring everything he may explore, or not, is clean, you put your silk robe on and head into your bedroom. There’s a multitude of objects spread out on your bed, and your knees become weak as you notice it’s all toys and objects that make your body scream in the best way. A shirtless Hongjoong is also on the bed, and you know he’s testing you.

“I want you.” You quickly spit out before he even gives you an option.

He stands, removing his clothes one by one while chuckling proudly. “I know.” He presses a painfully gentle kiss to the side of your head, staying there for a moment. “But you can’t have everything you want, remember?” He teases, “So I’m going to take a shower, and you’re going to pick a toy. When I come back out, are you gonna be ready?”

“Yes.” You breathe out.

He begins to walk away, and you know you should let him. You won tonight, but would you be you if you behaved?

“But doesn’t the best, sweetest boyfriend in the world, give his girl whatever she wants? Hm?”

The silence in the room is so thick, you don’t know how you’re still standing. The smirk on your face cannot be wiped away as you wait in anticipation for what he’s going to do next.

“You love talking shit, huh? Come back in the shower.” He demands, and you follow suit without hesitation, this time.

[edupunkn00b]

Learn to Fly Again

Five times Thomas tried to figure out why he woke up with wings. And one time he didn’t.

Written for @tsspromptmonth's Sleepy Bean Fanfic Café for @dragonsaphirareads. Prompt: A canonverse/winged AU with a focus on Thomas having wings, hurt/comfort, 5+1 with any of the side(s) that the barista wants to add! - Rated: G - WC: 1678

One

“Logan!”

Thomas had woken that morning feeling worse than usual, achy and stiff and oddly cold. His first surprise had come when he realized the thermal tee worn to bed lay next to him in tatters. His second came when he sat up and caught his reflection in the mirror. He summoned his Logical Side by pure instinct. “Logan? I need you!”

"Ah, well… This certainly explains a great deal,” Logan muttered, suddenly behind him.

“Explains nothing!” Thomas cried, poking at the giant rainbow feathered wings over his shoulder. “Why do I—” He turned to face his Logical Side and his eyes grew wide. “Why do we I have wings?”

“I have wings because I am a metaphysical representation of you,” Logan said, head tilted as he examined the blue-black feathers covering his own wings. After a moment, he released his wing and gripped Thomas’ shoulder. He gave him a sad smile. “What I cannot explain is why you suddenly have wings.”

Two

“‘Why do you have wings?’” Roman repeated, incredulous. Arms raised overhead and wings stretched out, he executed a flawless double pirouette. “To look fabulous, of course!”

Hiding his wings under a trench coat he’d worn for and old Kill in the Blanks show, Thomas had snuck down to the dance studio. He hoped getting a better look at his new wings might explain… something. Positioning himself in a mirrored corner, Thomas stretched his wings, wincing when muscled he didn’t know he had burned and popped with the movement. Matted in places, with the edges frizzing up in others, his wings looked anything but fabulous.

“Great Hera’s Hairpiece, Thomathy!” Roman cried, picking at a particularly rough-looking patch. Thomas winced again, jerking away from the touch. “Oh, it looks like we’ve got some work to do.”

Three

“Now just relax,” Janus murmured, adjusting the angle of his work light when it spilled over Thomas’ eyes. They were in the living room with Thomas sitting backwards on his office chair. Arms crossed over the backrest, he could tilt his head down, completely supported, and still provide a full range of movement for his wings.

Janus stood behind him, a collection of wide-toothed combs, oils freshly ordered from Pets.com, and a small bowl of warm water at the ready. After he’d returned home from the dance studio, his Protective Side had finally convinced him to sit for a preening session.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Thomas asked, sensing Janus’ hesitation.

“Of coursse I do,” he said, a little too quickly. “Well,” he paused and removed one glove. “I’ve never done this before but Logan has done an incredible amount of research and I do have more than a passing familiarity with… special skin care.

This close to Janus, Thomas struggled to resist the temptation to get a better look at his most mysterious Side’s scales. Laying both gloves on the table just within Thomas’ sight, Janus chuckled. “You can ask me anything, you know. I can’t lie like this.”

Fidgeting with a loose thread on the back of his seat, Thomas shrugged. His wings rustled with the movement. “Why do I have these things?”

A low laugh spilled up from Janus’ throat and he dipped his fingers in the water. “Now, Thomas, that’s not really what you want to ask me.”

Thomas chewed at his lip. Janus really had said he could ask anything. “Do you… Do you really shed?”

“Now that’s an honest question,” Janus murmured approvingly.

Silence fell between them as deft fingers worked to separate and smooth the flight feathers on his left wing. Finally, Thomas craned his neck, peering at Janus over his shoulder. “Well? How ‘bout an honest answer?”

“I said you could ask me anything.” A smirk pulling up the human side of his face, Janus rubbed oil between his palms and began to work it into Thomas’ feathers. “I never said I’d answer.”

Four

Virgil’s wing feathers lay in a shifting gradient of lavender to the deepest purple. They seemed to change from day to day, even moment to moment. There were even times when Thomas could have sworn they looked almost black at the edges.

Now was one such time, when dark purple seemed to loose its color completely, and his wings twitched at every sound. Thomas felt it, every twitch, every pause as Virgil listened to some sound outside—real or imagined, stiff, waiting. Ready. Fight or flight, indeed.

“Do you think that’s why I have wings now?” Thomas asked him, rising to stand next to him in his vigil. Together they stared out beyond the dark patio, eyes jumping, tracing the movement of the leaves in the wind.

“To fly away from trouble?” Virgil looked up at him, eyeshadow halfway down his cheeks.

“Yeah.” There could be benefits to overthinking. His Anxiety knew exactly what had been twisting into pretzel knots in his head.

Tugging at his hoodie strings, Virgil seemed to consider the question. “Can you?” he asked, eyeing Thomas’ wings before meeting his gaze. “Fly?”

Thomas shook his head and looked out into the darkness. “Haven’t tried.”

Five

“Hey, Kiddo.”

Thomas looked up from his new favorite spot in the living room, curled backwards on a chair. With a pillow stuck between his chest and the backrest, head pillowed on his arms, he could finally relax. The position gave him plenty of room to flex and wiggle his new wings and he could turn the chair away from his computer, his kitchen, his usual filming spot. Anything left undone or incomplete on his to-do list.

His arms were wet. And so were his cheeks.

“Oh,” he dragged his hand over his face, wiping away the tears. “Hey there, Pat. I… I didn’t realize I’d summoned you.”

Pulling over a second chair that hadn’t been there moments ago, Patton smiled gently, dabbing at his cheeks with a soft cloth. “You didn’t, Kiddo.”

“Oh,” he said again.

Patton finished drying his tears and they sat together in a heavy silence. Thomas’ wings twitched and Patton reached over, absently preening as he watched his face. “It might help to talk about it,” he said after a while, scritching gently at the spot between Thomas’ wing joints.

His eyes fell shut, a low hum slipping out. How did Patton know that spot had started to ache? Patton’s robin-egg-blue wings brushed against his knee and Thomas sighed.

As a matter-of-fact, I’ve watched it fifteen-and-a-half times because I am a part of you, Thomas!

Right.

“Why do I have wings, Pat?” Thomas asked quietly. “Is this…” He shook his head, cheeks burning at the thought. “Is this some sort of ‘great responsibility’ thing? A superpower? Like, I dunno, save cats from trees or—”

“Awww…” Patton’s eyes grew wide and a dopey grin spread across his face. “You’d be so good at it, too, Thomas!” Thomas stared back at him and Patton seemed to snap out of it. “Right, that’s not the point. Y’know, Kiddo, I’m not really sure why you have them.

Thomas settled back into his seat, head resting on his forearms. His wings hung limply. Together, they took up the entire living room with them.

“I do know an apartment’s an awfully tiny space for someone with a twenty foot wingspan.” Patton smoothed down an errant feather. “It might be good for you to get out there and find a place where you can really, y’know, stretch your wings.”

And One More

Driving long distances was uncomfortable with his wings tucked in at his sides for hours at a time, so Thomas bought the first ticket on Amtrak that would take him out of town. He ended up in Letchworth, New York, in some state park billed as the “Grand Canyon of the East.” He’d hiked out as far as his legs would take him, finally finding a clearing overlooking a stone canyon. A river was somewhere at the bottom.

Surrounded by no-one and no-thing taller than flowers and grass, the plateau was reprieve from tight quarters. Thomas relaxed, really relaxed, wings spread over a bed of clover and soaking up the warmth of the sun.

But his solitude wasn’t meant to last.

A rhythmic beating buffeted Thomas’ ears and he looked up just in time to see Remus floating down from the sky, massive neon green wings rowing though the air and slowing his descent. He touched down with an impossible grace before squatting down next to Thomas with his more characteristic frenetic grin.

“Heya there, Tommy-gun,” he said, bumping their shoulders together. He tapped his fingers together humming just under his breath, but his eyes never left Thomas’ face. “Nice spot you found here.”

“Oh, hi, Remus, I… I didn’t mean to summon you, but…”

Head titled at a painfully sharp angle, Remus blinked, first one eye, then the other.

“But I’m glad you’re here,” Thomas said, bumping him back.

“Well, fuck,” Remus laughed, peering over the edge and out at the canyon below them. “The others won’t like that.”

Thomas pulled him back, quickly shaking his head. “No! No, Remus not like that.”

“Boo,” Remus said, grinning and ruining the plaintive tone in his voice.

Looking out over the scene Thomas was beginning to regret saying anything. Remus, strangely, remained… well, mostly silent. Still humming quietly, he gently smoothed down the bristle feathers that had begun to grow around Thomas’ ear. It felt… nice.

“I’ve asked everyone else but I haven’t asked you yet.” Thomas scooted closer, just until the edges of their wings touched. “Why do you think I have these things?”

“Why?” Remus repeated and pushed up to his feet. “Who gives a fuck?” Stretching out his wings, he grabbed Thomas’ hand and pulled him up. Threading their fingers together in a death grip, he started walking them backwards, wild eyes fixed on Thomas’. Before long, he’d given them about twenty feet of literal runway before the cliff’s edge.

“A better question is…” He looked out over the canyon and winked at Thomas. “What are you gonna do with them?”

[judesmoonbeauty]

Hi! I'm sorry the question is not related to ikevil, but I can't find another person to ask and I don't trust google...... Don't answer if you don't want to, it's okay!

But, what do I do with repeated letters/characters in katakana? Specifically writing names...

Suppose I am writing Ishii or Rashaan:

I should write (for Ishii) イシイ? Or use the "character" (I'm sure it's not called that way, sorry) of repetition? 😭😭 And in the case of Rashaan, I have to write ラシャん (I removed an a) or ラシャアン? I'm very confused and trying to understand on my own ☹️

Hi! That’s okay, katakana is a beast imo. Frankly, I only know a bit because I haven’t shifted into studying that completely yet, so I don’t want to be presumptive and tell you what’s right or wrong, but I’ll try to help by providing some examples or what I’ve seen as I’ve played IkeVil. And of course, if anyone who knows more than me, please feel free to kindly assist!

While names can be written with kanji, hiragana or katakana, if the person is not Japanese or given a name from someone who is Japanese, typically the names are spelled with katakana, in the way they would normally written…or simply the way they sound.

I say sound because of two examples:

1. Harrison - The double “R’s” are written in his name are written only once in katakana: ハリソン.

It’s not ハリリソン. Otherwise it’d be Haririson.

2. Anne/Ann - The double “N’s” are written in katakana only once as well: アン.

It’s not アンン. Otherwise, it would be an unnecessary character being used.

It’s not that double characters can’t be used in Katakana, because they can be. Especially to emphasis a point, or for onomatopoeic words, but this is what I know based on names I’ve seen in-game.

So, I think Ishii works fine and Rashaan could simply do without the double character….Again, this is according to my very limited understanding.

Here are some links for further information that might be helpful:

Link on more info for names spelled with katakana, here.

Link for a site with Japanese language learning resources, here. This link is for Katakana.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Helen Pluckrose

Published: Mar 1, 2025

"The problem is the Left has shown almost no signs of moderation. The rhetoric, new leadership, and vibes all suggest a doubling down on wokeism, not a move towards rational centrism."

"And the Party of the Left, the Dems, have shown no ability to learn from the spanking they received on Nov 5. Rather than saying "We have nothing that normal voters support", they have doubled down on the "Trumpers are low-information deplorables" meme."

These were comments left on my most recent post about whether we are seeing an anti-anti-woke backlash by two of my thoughtful subscribers. This struck me particularly as I had just been on X reading conversations in which many people are currently angry that Ash Sarkar has been critical of identity politics after having been a proponent of it. These sum up the feeling of indignation well:

This metaphor of “rats fleeing a sinking ship” was repeated often and other examples were raised of politicians backing away from wokeness most commonly including Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Sadiq Khan having removed their pronouns from various biographies.

These two perceptions have been warring for considerable time now - I addressed them in my last book over a year ago - with critics of wokeness disagreeing. Some argue that wokeness is not waning at all and give examples of its continued existence and promotion by politicians. Others argue that it is and deplore what they see as the dishonesty and opportunism of left-wing politicians in trying to distance themselves from woke ideas they had once espoused strongly.

It cannot be true both that wokeness is waning and that it is not, that left-wing politicians are doubling down on it and that they are distancing themselves from it. So. what is true and why do these two conflicting perceptions exist among people who have the same negative views of wokeness and left-wing parties and are most commonly on the right?

The question of whether wokeness is waning is one that can be measured in various ways and the answer to that question on a societal level seems almost certainly to be “Yes”, in the United States and UK at least. (Some measures suggest Canada is not doing so well and it was on the rise in Northern Europe). As I wrote in The Counterweight Handbook.

Many social scientists, as well as political and cultural commentators of various kinds, have begun to argue that Critical Social Justice (usually referred to as “wokeness”) “peaked” in 2020 and has since been on the decline. There is evidence to support the position that there is a growing resistance to Critical Social Justice and a general sense of culture war fatigue. The overall attrition rate for DEI roles was 50 percent higher than non-DEI jobs in 2022, as many companies began phasing out certain DEI positions. Further, while job postings for DEI positions expanded by nearly 30 percent between 2020 and 2021, they dropped by almost an equal percentage between 2022 and 2023. Support for the Black Lives Matter movement declined from 67 percent at its peak in 2020 to 51 percent in 2023, and a majority of Americans say the increased focus on race since the 2020 George Floyd protests has not improved the lives of black people. There are also signs that other areas of Critical Social Justice focus have decreased in popularity. Analysis by sociologist   arguably the most meticulous documenter of this trajectory across many spheres of society, reveals, among much more, a decline in relevant journalistic word usage as well as a drop in cancellation events, a decrease in academic output using Critical Social Justice theories, a greater confidence of students to express their views, and a greater push-back against DEI from both employers and mainstream outlets. This is supported by research examining the language of 725 corporate social responsibility communications undertaken by Adam William Chalmers and Robyn Klingler-Vidra. Whereas companies once primarily used the term “civil rights movement” when discussing issues of social justice, their language shifted in 2015 and became dominated by “wokeisms” such as “allyship” “diversity equity,” “equity and inclusion,” and “racial justice.” Since 2021, this language has been in decline.

(The book goes on to argue that this is not grounds for complacency)

That left-wing politicians have responded to this culture shift in an attempt to move rightwards is also demonstrable by changes in their rhetoric. As Jeremy W. Peters put it shortly before the election:

[T]he country is also in a starkly different place from four years ago. Case in point: Ms. Harris is boasting about protecting her home with a Glock, proclaiming her patriotism and campaigning with Republicans like Liz Cheney.

As David Weigel argued a few weeks earlier, “No matter who wins, the US is moving to the right,”

The Democratic Party, after two decades of leftward post-Clinton drift, has jerked abruptly right. Facing Donald Trump for the third consecutive election, Democrats are making rhetorical and policy concessions that they didn’t want to, or think they needed to, in 2016 and 2020. They’ve adjusted to an electorate that’s shifted to the right, toward the Trump-led GOP, on issues that progressives once hoped were non-negotiable — immigrant rights, LGBTQ rights, climate change policies, and criminal justice reform.

We also see a shift in UK politics with the election of Keir Starmer, one of the most right-wing Labour MPs, and the subsequent defection of the most left-wing members of the party. With his pronouncements of “God Save the King” and inclusion of the Union Jack in campaign materials, the movement of his views on whether or not one should define women biologically and promises to prioritise workers and business, Starmer has clearly been trying to move away from radical views, win back centrists and appeal to the significant working class Labour voter base that is economically left-wing, socially conservative and nationalistic.

There is much evidence that, in their policy campaigns, the left-wing parties in the US and the UK have been making calculated efforts to move away from more radical left-wing positions, both identitarian and economic, and move closer to the centre. This clearly was not enough to convince American voters and while some in the UK have argued that this was influential on Starmer’s victory, this victory is shaky and others have argued convincingly that it represents a loss of faith in the Conservatives rather than an increase in trust in Labour.

I think there are three primary reasons that so many people, particularly on the right, either perceive no shift away from wokeness at all or regard it cynically as performative and opportunistic or both. These are that both of those attitudes genuinely exist in elements of the left, that so many people have been personally affected by it that there is a widespread, hypervigilant distrust and that some people on the anti-woke right don’t want it to wane.

The primary reason that people see the left as doubling down on wokeness and also distancing themselves from wokeness is because both of those elements are there to be seen! Although there is significant evidence that wokeness is waning, ‘waning’ is not the same as ‘over.’ Showing data evidencing its decline on a cultural level will be of little comfort to an individual facing disciplinary action right now for objecting to the idea that therapy clients can only be understood by therapists of the same race, arguing that basing medical practice on medical science is not colonialist or saying that, if they must tick a box indicating their gender identity, “none’ needs to be an available option. (These are three cases I am dealing with right now). Wokeness may have ‘peaked’ in 2020 but it was doing harm for at least seven years as it was rising and it will continue to do harm as it is falling. The wane may well take longer than the rise as removing a problem frequently does take longer than creating one and the ‘death throes’ of a movement can manifest as particularly extreme. People who say the woke are doubling down are likely observing incidents of the woke doubling down.

Similarly, those who say prominent leftist figures, including politicians, are distancing themselves opportunistically from wokeness because it is waning are likely observing said pundits doing that, opportunistically or otherwise. I will not presume to be able to mindread Ms. Sarkar, but I understand the anger felt by people that she is now saying identity politics are a problem after having promoted identity politics for considerable time. On an abstract, purely rational, level, we should not object to politicians changing their minds on issues as the public do as it is their job to represent the views of the people rather than their own. On a human level, this is enraging because, in order to trust and forgive not only policy-makers, but anyone, we need to hear them say, “I got that wrong and it caused harm. I’m sorry.” This almost never happens because the system of politics relies so much on spin and rhetoric and individual politicians are concerned for their own careers at least as much as for representing the will of the people. Nevertheless, left-wing parties will need to acknowledge the harm done by identitarian wokeness and demonstrate commitment to change to rebuild trust.

Radical and widespread distrust is the second reason that so many people are inclined to either disbelieve that wokeness is waning or regard evidence that it is cynically. The Critical Social Justice movement has permeated so many areas of people’s everyday lives including their workplaces, universities and children’s schools as well as dominating mainstream media and social media that it has produced a more personal and visceral anger and distrust than party politics typically do. This is because it has not only impacted public policy but culture itself on multiple levels and the strength of the resulting antipathy can be understood as the psychological impact of “Cancel Culture.” I think John Stuart Mill can be understood to be referring to this when he spoke of ‘the tyranny of prevailing opinion’, in On Liberty,

Society can and does execute its own mandates: and if it issues wrong mandates instead of right, or any mandates at all in things with which it ought not to meddle, it practises a social tyranny more formidable than many kinds of political oppression, since, though not usually upheld by such extreme penalties, it leaves fewer means of escape, penetrating much more deeply into the details of life, and enslaving the soul itself.

When anger, resentment and distrust are this strong and this personal, people are likely to remain hypervigilant and suspicious for a considerable time. Signs of wokeness will be pounced upon as evidence that the problem is not waning at all while signs of a move away from wokeness will be distrusted as a ‘rats fleeing the sinking ship’ phenomenon precisely because wokeness is waning. Yes, this is contradictory, especially when those two diagnoses are made by the same people depending on circumstance, and does present something of a ‘no-win’ situation. However, I’d suggest it is more than the typical kind of motivated reasoning commonly engaged in by people with their own political agenda and better understood as a hypervigilant psychological response due to how personally affected by this so many people have been. We can certainly point out that both things cannot be true, that wokeness is waning and that it’s good that left-wing politicians are starting to distance themselves from it. However, ultimately, the solution is for left-wing parties to do that more consistently and more openly and rebuild trust by being consistently principled on axes of liberalism and prioritization of the working class. Left-wingers generally can best help rebuild trust by doing this too and resisting any temptation to react to the rise of an illiberal right by supporting the illiberal left (as discussed here).

However, there is a third potential problem that is not simply an observation of doubling down on wokeness and also a cynical distancing from wokeness from elements on the left or a product of alienation, anger and distrust due to having been personally affected by it. This is known as “St. George in Retirement Syndrome” and will need to be watched out for by people on the anti-woke right. This term is drawn from an analogy used by the Australian philosopher, Kenneth Minogue, addressing progressive overreach, although I learned of it via Douglas Murray’s book, The Madness of Crowds. It is not only something progressives can fall prey to, however, as it is essentially the problem of defining oneself by a specific mission and not knowing when to quit. Chris Meyer applies it more broadly to the human condition and defines it thus,

[T]he pathological state an initially heroic person can wind up in. After having succeeded in a righteous battle, the winner becomes preoccupied with increasingly trivial causes. In the end, the hero is too committed and too proud to call it quits. What started out as a laudable pursuit is now indistinguishable from madness.

For those who have dedicated significant time and energy to highlighting the problems with wokeness, the tendency to define one’s purpose and even identity as ‘anti-woke’ can be strong and potentially destructive. In Minogue’s story, St. George defined himself by the slaying of dragons and, as he was successful and the big dragons were gone, he continued to need his dragons to have a sense of himself and to search for and fight increasingly small dragons.

It has often been commented (and this is Murray’s argument) that elements of the progressive left, having won major battles in the realm of social justice, needed to continue to find evidence of social injustice and defeat it in order to continue having a sense of purpose and identity. This has also been described in terms like “the demand for racism/other bigotry exceeding the supply” and related to silly things like claiming that the term ‘master bedroom’ is racist or that Lego is anti-LGBT. This need is also implied in the concept of ‘woke’ itself as this refers to systems of power and privilege that most people cannot even see and need to be awakened to by things like unconscious bias training

In his recent book, We Have Never Been Woke, Musa al-Gharbi argues that the anti-woke mirror the woke in their need to keep wokeness alive in order to maintain their status and relevance. I think his brushstrokes are somewhat too broad with this and the majority of the anti-woke (including me) are motivated to dispatch wokeness and would be only too glad to turn our attention to something else. Nevertheless, he does identify a genuine mentality among some of the illiberal, right-wing anti-woke, and with the Trump/Musk administration largely running on an anti-woke/anti-DEI platform, the risk of overreach is real. The potential to keep that anti-woke momentum going by identifying more and more things as ‘woke’ or detecting wokeness where it is not is something we need to be alert to. The last thing we need is for the demand for wokeness to exceed the supply, and to have a lot of wannabe St. Georges running around slaying wokeness dragons that are actually perfectly ethical anti-discrimination policies, anybody even vaguely on the left or members of minority groups with good jobs.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

into the silent land

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Willis Todd is arrested before he can cheat Two-Face and be murdered in this AU. He regains custody of his twelve-year-old son, Jason, and they rebuild their relationship. Can Willis make up for his mistakes, or is he doomed to repeat history?

(The title comes from a line in the poem, Remember, by Christina Rossetti).

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Willis Todd, Original Character(s), Faye "Ma" Gunn

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent AU, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Willis Todd, Willis Todd Redemption, Mentioned Sheila Haywood

Chapter Four: Petrie and Parole Officers

Willis held Jason’s hand while he rolled the window home on a dolly. “Grandpa gave me his number,” Jason confessed. 

Willis glanced at Jason and smiled. “What’d you think of him?” Willis asked. Jason shrugged. “You won’t hurt my feelings. Go on.”

“He seems like a nice guy… He said you had brothers,” Jason mentioned. Willis tensed. “Dad?”

“My brothers are like Ma… And they were bigger than me,” Willis answered, “Dad loved all of us equally, but we—. We had a special bond.” 

Jason tightened his grip on Willis’ hand. “I love you, Dad,” Jason whispered. Willis smiled. 

“I love you too, Jason… And that’s all that matters,” Willis replied. When they reached the apartment building, Willis and Jason took the elevator to Ms. Cobb’s home. Willis showed Jason how to remove the window while Ms. Cobb made cocoa. The lesson was as efficient as it was quiet. Willis whispered to Jason because it contrasted with how he used to scream at Jason.

“Like this?” Jason whispered as he applied caulk. Willis nodded. 

“That’s perfect. I’m so proud of you,” Willis answered. Ms. Cobb watched the pair work.

“You two must be freezing. I made some cocoa if you’d like some,” Ms. Cobb offered. Willis looked at Jason.

“It’s alright,” Willis reassured him. Jason nodded. “Thanks, Ms. Cobb. Jason…” 

“Thank you, Ms. Cobb,” Jason replied as he sipped. 

“Of course,” Ms. Cobb smiled. Jason kneeled beside his father on the floor, still shivering from the cold. Willis took his jacket off and draped it over Jason. “I can turn the heat up—.” 

“We’re alright,” Jason whispered. Ms. Cobb looked at Willis, and Willis shook his head. 

“Anything else you need fixed while we wait for the caulk to dry?” Willis questioned.

Ms. Cobb shook her head. Jason raised his hand, which tickled both Ms. Cobb and Willis. Ms. Cobb covered her mouth, and Willis chuckled. “Yes, Jason?” Ms. Cobb asked. 

“Are you assigning the extra credit paper on Monday?” Jason asked. “I already started working on it, but if you aren’t offering credit, I’d still like to show you what I wrote.” 

“You started it already?” Ms. Cobb asked. Willis raised his eyebrow. 

“Oh, sorry. I offer the extra credit assignment toward the end of every unit. I have the kids pick a historical figure or art piece that applies to what we learned. My students can write a paper for up to five extra credit points. Sometimes, I don’t offer it because of the workload,” Ms. Cobb explained, “Jason, you don’t need extra credit. You’ve got an ‘A’.” 

Willis grinned. “I know, but I found a book in the library… And I thought I’d write it anyway,” Jason replied, “It’s okay if we don’t have time.” 

“Since you’ve already started, I’ll offer credit. I wasn’t going to because we’re a little short on time, but I’ll offer double what I usually do,” Ms. Cobb replied. 

Willis raised his brows and smiled. 

“What time is that open house thing next Friday?” Willis asked. Ms. Cobb grabbed a sticky note and wrote down the time and date of the parent-teacher conferences. 

*

Willis took Jason to eat at the end of the workday, and they split a hoagie. Jason stopped eating when he noticed Willis staring at him. “Something on my face?” Jason asked. Willis shook his head as he sipped his juice. He squinted, studying Jason’s sweet expression. “What’s the matter?” 

“You’re not mad at me for any of this?” Willis asked. Jason cocked his head. 

“Why would I be mad? You made a promise and kept it,” Jason answered. Willis smiled and teared up. He turned away from Jason and scrunched his nose up. “Dad? Are you crying?” 

Willis didn’t answer. Jason frowned. He set his sandwich down and stood near his dad. “I’m not mad at you… Dad,” Jason whispered as he tugged Willis’ sleeve. Willis sniffed as tears fell from his eyes. 

“Don’t ever be like me, Jason… Promise me—.”

“Can’t do that, Dad. If I kept that promise, I’d have to break my promises to you,” Jason replied. Willis laughed and pulled Jason into his arms. “I wouldn’t want anybody else to be my dad.” 

“Finish your sandwich. I gotta get you home before dark. You gotta let go of me,” Willis smiled. Jason hid his face in Willis’ shoulder. “ Me think we should get going, Petrie,” Willis whispered in a cartoonish voice. Jason laughed. Willis nudged him. “Eat your hoagie. We gotta get goin’.” Jason obeyed. 

After Jason finished eating, Willis took him home. “My PO might visit tomorrow. You gotta give me your cigs in the meantime,” Willis warned Jason. Jason nodded. 

“Is it Roberts?” Jason asked. 

“Nope, Roberts transferred out of the city. I’ve got a new kid named Isaac. He’s okay. He’ll probably ask your age and if you like living with me. Tell him the truth. Isaac’s not out to get me or anything… He’s doing his job—.”

“Okay,” Jason replied. Willis took Jason’s jackets off and hung them up. Jason ran to his bedroom and brought Willis all the cigarettes he had on his person. 

Willis counted the packs and looked behind Jason’s ears. Jason laughed. “What are you doing?” Jason questioned. 

“If I hold you by your ankles and shake you… Am I going to find ten more packs of cigarettes?” Willis half-joked. Jason shook his head. “Okay. Take your shower.” 

*

When someone knocked on the door, Jason was sleeping on the couch with Willis again, wrapped in a shared quilt. Willis groaned and got up from the couch to answer after he checked the peephole. He opened the door and rubbed his eyes. “Isaac, did you forget my kid’s living with me now?” Willis asked. 

“Sorry, Willis.. You know the drill,” Isaac replied. “I’m not trying to—.” 

“I know. Yeah… I know,” Willis whispered, “Feel free to look around.” Jason stirred and sat up. 

“Dad?” Jason mumbled. Willis pulled the blanket around Jason’s shoulders.

“It’s Isaac. Do you want some milk?” Willis asked. Jason shook his head. “Let’s try your room. You should sleep in your room tonight. I’m not leaving you.” Jason frowned. “Come on.” Willis picked Jason up. “Come on, Petrie.” Willis spoke in a cartoonish voice as he carried Jason to bed. Isaac searched the room while Willis put Jason down. 

Jason watched Isaac while he held Willis’ wrist. Isaac stopped what he was doing to look at Jason. “Hi, there. I’m Isaac. I’m here to check on your dad and ask a few questions. What’s your name and how old are you?” Isaac questioned.

“I’m Jason. I’m twelve, but I’ll be thirteen in August,” Jason answered, “Everyone says I don’t look like a middle schooler ‘cause I’m short.” 

Isaac smiled and nodded. “It’s okay. I was a smaller kid, too… I saw you were sleeping on the couch. Do you like sleeping on the couch?” Isaac asked.

“I like being close to my dad,” Jason replied. 

“Do you like living here? I know it’s a recent change. How are you adapting?” Isaac questioned.

“I like it here. My dad’s here, and he has hot water… And he taught me how to replace a window. Between you and me, I like him a lot better this way,” Jason whispered. Jason closed his eyes and covered his mouth as a yawn escaped. 

“I’m gonna check your dad’s room, and I’ll be on my way,” Isaac explained, “Thanks for speaking with me.” 

“Thank you for being quiet… Roberts used to make a lot of noise,” Jason mumbled. Willis chuckled and stayed behind while Isaac finished his examination of the house. 

“I’m glad I rank above the hot water,” Willis half-joked, “I was worried you’d say hot water before you said me.” Jason smiled. 

“You’re better than all the hot water in the world… Don’t go. Stay. One more night,” Jason whispered. Willis nodded. 

“Okay,” Willis whispered.

[mithliya]

Funny thing about 'abortion made her do it' is that absolutely no one was forcing her to be online! And read all that, post all that. She could have deleted. She even answered and fought people 'in pain from my abortion in the hospital bed' so there is some attention seeking going on. I saw some anons she got and they were outrageous but at no point did macro consider logging off. Or just telling us all to f.ck off and die or something. She jumped right to homophobia. And doubled down later. There is no excuse, no justification. Every time I go through hard shit I don't say bigoted stuff instead of just telling everyone to shut up.

i think she wasn’t in the hospital at all but had an at-home abortion but. also, yes. there were times i was really stressed & nervous and i would intentionally stay out of such things on tumblr for that reason bc otherwise i’d stress puke and perhaps have a mental breakdown. and no one can think clearly and word themselves well in such situations so it’s counterproductive. it’s not healthy for anyone! but also it does not justify prejudice. she said this stuff after being fully recovered anyways, having an abortion is not a pass for repeated questionable & then downright lesbophobic comments.

i get a shit tonne of online harassment and have been for years, every week i receive several messages bringing up my rape & inducing PTSD flashbacks, ive received many threats & multiple ppl have posted my name & my family’s faces despite me saying i don’t share my parents faces bc they can be jailed & tortured & even killed if tied to my blog in which i talk about being a lesbian & criticise my country’s govt. people did not care. they outright laughed at me and called me insane as i begged them to remove pictures of my mother from their blogs. and despite that i have not been cut any slack when said anything even slightly badly worded on here. in fact, things from when i was actively being abused as a teenager are constantly brought up against me, despite me apologising for my actions from back then. i’m not sure why others get to have endless empathy & patience extended to them whereas some of us receive none of it, when in reality it should be somewhere in the middle. there’s a reasonable level of understanding & patience but it gets unreasonable when u expect ppl to overlook someone saying lesbophobic things bc they had a hard time 2 weeks ago.

[the-firebird69]

These guys might be gone soon there's a lot of loss A lot of them are dying they're leaving and not coming back we have some information

--28% were mobilized that's too many the pseudo empire is shocked and begin hiring mercenaries all over the world and that's what you see in Star wars and they're going after them and pretty hard there's a big pile of them no I also removed real fast they take the dog tags and they let them because they're removing the bodies there's a giant number of them that are leaving today and we need Mac morlock. They are getting beaten in the middle areas and losing. . They are down from the 28% they are down to 8% of the period of 7 days. Their entire population almost cut in half. I'm just starting a whole bunch of work but that 8% is going in in the Midwest the pseudo empire has about 12 good size bases in their areas too their areas of operation in bases and much larger below we have them a breached. Because they are breached the 8% as of half an hour ago double timed it and this is a big development

Yeah they had us talking about them like they're great news for not masking stuff. Huge cannons giant trucks and giant tanks are heading there if you didn't know about it without any question. It's going to be a big day.

The army sitting there the army is heading there are moving very fast they're going to be there in 10 minutes

These numbers are real and right now they've lost 20% out of 44% they only have 8% out there no they have about 12% and they're attacking. They have only lost 18% out of 43%, it's still significant but leave them with one quarter of the entire population. Yeah they lose his 12% that cuts them in half and they would become almost a tenth of the population.

That's very low at this point they don't have a choice no you can pull out in the pseudo empire is too small but they chose not to this morning they had a talk between the groups. They were talking to each other about what to say. It got very fierce.

You want us in there you won't let us in you don't split it you won't have us do anything you won't allow us to you're threaten to bomb us and they're saying it's us and it's not you won't let us partake in building things we have no businesses and you've had them all so why don't you share and we can back off we need it and there's no doubt about it and they said we can't afford you we can't afford to do it we don't want to do it your heinous you're stupid you're morons and we don't want to talk about it and it was repeated a few times and they said we're going to move in on you they're going to take over and you treat us badly and he says what can we do when we don't do anything then he said you have to have us rip our heart out in order for us to get anything and it's terrible and he started saying it too we look easy but we're not you started a real war it's over real stuff real issues and you really just don't have a heart we need stuff and you know it and we have to share and we'll both get bigger and Brian put it out there I said I'm sick of not seeing it we have to be clear we're going to try and he is they sent back a message we don't need to discuss this further you're only causing pain and misery and suffering so they sent a note back that's ridiculous talk and they said we can't stand you if we stop you infiltrate almost right away you won't share you won't stay in your territory and you start this foolishness almost right away I just make tons of idiots and he said we do that because we need to get in there to defend ourselves and they said no and it's basically on and that's what the morlock do and they don't back off you're going to see them doing it and send it out to do this morning so they say you'll see what we're doing what are you stupid and our son said it'll do for now and he says what should I do wipe you out answer the question and don't ask me stupid f****** questions you waste my time I'll put you in the dirt rather than talk to you and they started to get really mad and said look we're going to your areas see that's your problem and you don't know what we're doing or what we're like about you being in my territory they started off an argument with each other and said he'll be alone out there with the Mac proper and right now they can't seem to figure it out

More shortly and it's important

Thor Freya

Olympus

[aemonds-sapphire]

Caution: Slippery When Wet — Dabi x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Dabi just wanted to take a shower, and he didn’t care that you were in the way.

Warnings: NSFW. Orgasm denial. Overstimulation. Vaginal fingering. Quirkplay. Unprotected sex. Praise. Creampie.

Word count: 3.6k

A sudden loud bang snapped you out of your steam-induced daydream and had your heart skip a few beats in distress.

“What?!” you gnarled, eyes gazing through the foggy shower door only to be met with a pair of turquoise eyes.

Dabi.

“You done in there or what?”

Panic filled your entire body at once. “Get the fuck out!”

Any indication that you might be blessed with a peaceful shower session soon flew out the window as the young villain showed no intention of budging.

Thoughts on Dabi? You’d rather not have any. And not because you loathed him. Far from that Your body made sure that the most hostile emotion you had towards him was unquestionable sexual tension. Therefore, you really, really needed to train your mind not to fixate on him or the possibilities that might come from any interaction with him. In order to cope with this, you tried your best to mask your genuine feelings with resentment.

On the off chance your paths crossed while living together with the rest of the league, you always had your mind set on antagonizing him. You dreaded the possibility of anyone figuring out that — albeit buried deep within you —, you craved him.

“Not happening. I need a shower.”

Sliding the glass door, you peaked your head through the narrow slit only to be met with Dabi covered in... slime? From his dark hair all the way down to his boots.

“What is that awful smell?” you grimaced as the foul stench filled your nose.

“Collateral damage,” he said with a blank expression, eyes on yours. “You can thank Toga for that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go wait outside. I’m almost done here.”

No answer.

“Out!” Yyou half-yelled, feeling heat creep through your cheeks, thoroughly glad that the fog glazing the shower door kept most of your body hidden from his gaze.

No answer yet again.

“Dabi!”

He shrugged and proceeded to remove his knee-length coat showing no concern that you were intensely staring at him, mouth agape in shock.

His filthy shirt went off next, revealing the uneven edges of his staple-covered skin across his upper chest. Your heart was racing at double speed and all your brain could conjure was that you most definitely should not allow your eyes to roam across his body like that. Dabi was too fucking hot — pun fully intended— for his own good, and suspected he knew that

That proved to be enough to snap you out of your trance. “Why are you taking your clothes off?!” Yyou blurted out, failing to realize how ridiculous that sounded given the context.

Dabi paused briefly as he was about to undo his belt. “Not showering with my clothes on... the fuck?” he remarked, arching a brow and glaring at you like you’d grown a third arm.

Panic hit you instantly. “Uh—Just wait!”

His slender fingers unbuckled the belt swiftly. “Doll, you’re wasting time. All that rambling and staring... could be done already.”

He was not wrong.

It suddenly dawned on you how easily he’d always manage to crawl under your skin. Whether he knew the effect he had on you or not, it remained unclear. But something inside you clung to the idea that, whatever it was that you felt for Dabi, it was somehow reciprocated.

Patches of suds began trailing down your temples and forehead, causing further distress.

“Just...” your voice trailed off, but sudden outrage burst from within you. “Don’t you have some decency?”

“No.”

He had managed to strip all of his clothes off until he was only left in his underwear, and he was about to—

“No! No fucking way!” you shrieked in dread, quickly having to wipe a few suds that were stinging your eyes. “Leave it—“

But before you could mouth further protests, you saw him yank his underwear down, which caused your eyes to reflexively close tightly.

A low chuckle was heard. “Calm down, princess. I won’t even look. Just wanna rinse off this slime.”

You were positively mortified from all this mess, and a large part of you cheered in pride as you managed to kept your feelings towards him out of the way.

For now, at least.

Immediately, you withdrew your head from the rack, and shoved the shower door shut, with one hand keeping it in place while the other reached out to grab a bottle from the corner shelf.

Dabi tugged at the door a few times before sighing. “Seriously? You gonna throw a... bottle of shampoo at me?” he drawled out, a slight hint of amusement taintIng his voice. “Terrifying. I can see why Shigaraki scouted you,” he added in blatant mockery.

The sudden confrontation had you wish some random hole in the ground would prop open and swallow you whole, effectively putting an end to this.

Your eyes flew open at once and you glared at the bottle in your hand that read: ‘Strawberry passion — let your senses be filled with bliss and calmness’. Now that was fucking ironic.

Another tug.

“Don’t make me burn this shit down.”

You scoffed. “You keep your eyes fucking shut, then. Not even a peak.”

“Sure, doll.”

Admitting defeat, you scooted to the corner of the stall, your back facing him as you heard the door slide open. You felt him brush past you, but managed to keep your composure. There was no point in stressing about this. Dabi was merely your... colleague? Coworker? Fellow... villain? It came with the territory, right?

You grasped the shower head and raised your arm to have warm water pour down on you. For a brief moment, you were able to ignore the man behind you, and just kept on rinsing as fat as you could to terminate this awkward situation.

Just a few more seconds...

But, of course, life seldom went as planned.

“Sharing is caring, doll,” his low voice rumbled, and you felt his breath fanning the nape of your neck, causing you to jolt.

The sudden proximity sent your brain into overdrive. Every single hair in your body stirred as goosebumps spread from the shiver running down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his hand wrap around yours.

You tried to muster a few words, but the overwhelming sensation of having someone you felt so attracted to being so close to you, definitely proved to be a harder task than you’d imagined.

“Eyes shut...” you managed to mumble as a reminder, feeling the curtain of water shift to your back and ultimately leaving your body entirely.

Dabi let out a sigh of relief. “Fuck... this feels good.”

His choice of words had heat spread across you like wildfire. Unfortunately, the sudden loss of a heat source had your body quivering in an attempt to keep your temperature from dropping. You wrapped your arms across your chest out of reflex, but it did little to help.

That din’t go unnoticed by the young villain. “You cold?”

“Ju-just... hurry up...” you said between teetering teeth.

Silence fell between you two before you heard vague splashes of water. “I can warm you up.”

He was close to you once more. Too close. Close enough that you could feel his hot breath near your ear, and something else nudging at your backside.

Your head turned to glare at his half-hooded eyes. “No, thank you...”

His lips were dangerously close to yours, and from that angle you could see the way the metallic hoops on each side of his face strained but a little when he drew a faint grin.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you?”

That gave you a whiplash.

As soon a those words left his mouth, you gasped in confusion. “What?!”

But there was nothing to be confused about. It was a rhetorical question from him. You were suddenly aware that he knew. That he had been able to read your signs all along.

Dabi placed the shower head back in its holder, pressing his back fully against yours in the process.

That’s when you felt all of him.

From the hardened nipples to the cool edges of his staples, and all the way to his hard cock pressed against your ass. You shuddered under his touch, causing it to settle right in between your ass cheeks.

“Dabi...”

He bucked his hips lightly, his slippery cock gliding with ease as a deep growl ripped from him. Haziness swarmed your mind, and you pressed both hands on the cold tiles for support, welcoming the water that poured on you from the shower head.

“Say my name again...”

“Why...” you mewled back, swaying your hips sensually against him.

What the fuck...

This was probably a bad idea. You weren’t even sure how you allowed things escalate this quickly. Dabi could snap anyone in half if he felt like it; he could also incinerate anything just as easily. You supposed the dangers of meddling with someone this volatile added to the allure.

And he was aware of that fact.

He fed on it and used it to get you to surrender yourself to him.

“Say it,” he repeated his request, bringing both hands to grasp your hips.

Your eyes snapped open once he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.

“I hate you.”

You mentally slapped yourself for being so weak. Those words carried no weight whatsoever, and they only served to heave a taunting chuckle from him. Even though this entire situation had your face burning with heat, the rest of your body still struggled to keep your temperature up, causing you to shiver from time to time.

Dabi excelled at reading body language like no other. He took pride in being able to know someone’s true intention just from the way their body reacted to his presence. He was no stranger to the inner workings of women when it came to him; he knew precisely which strings to tug in order to get them to crave his touch.

You were no different.

In fact, you had completely and miserably failed at keeping your thirst for him at bay.

And with unprecedented expertise, Dabi had your body to bend to his will, granting you one of your deepest desires.

You felt his palms heat up against your skin.

“I... hate you...” your voice came out in a weak tremble.

Were you trying to convince him, or yourself?

His hands began sliding up your sides, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. You realized you were no longer quivering from loss of warmth; your shudders were stemmed from the way Dabi was slowly and carefully feeling you up. His heated hands moved to your breasts, and without any notice, he had both your nipples being rolled in between his fingers.

Instinctively, you bucked against him. “Fuck...”

Dabi let out a hiss in response. “Sure you hate me?”

He pinched your nipples lightly before grazing his staple-covered palms along the sensitive buds.

“Yes,” you blurted out firmly.

The metallic hoops spread across his palms teased you further.

But before your throbbing clit could welcome the new stimulus, he halted and the heat pooling on his fingertips quickly died down. “So you want me to stop.”

“No!” you protested as his hands abandoned your skin.

“Then what?” Dabi inquired, bringing one finger to trail down your spine, prompting your back to arch downwards and your ass to spring up invitingly. “All these mixed signals... tss.”

You managed to suppress a moan when you felt his slippery cock slide down to tease your entrance.

“Dabi...” you let out, trying to find a few words to say. “Eyes shut.”

He chuckled. “Doll... I have my cock pressed against your ass and leaking for you... does that even matter?”

Of course not. You weren’t even sure why you had said that... your mind was playing tricks on you.

Even so, you weren’t so lucky the second time around, and when he slapped your swollen clit with the tip, your mouth fell open in a strangled cry. You highly doubted the slick tiles would be able to support your body as he proceeded to place his cock in between your damp folds.

“Hold on tight, doll. I need to prep you for my cock first,” his voice dripped with lust. “Be a good girl and bend over.”

Your pussy clenched impulsively.

To say you were completely and ridiculously turned on was the understatement of the year. No amount of rationality would help you now. You were too far gone, and your desire for him clouded any shred of judgement in you.

There was no point in resisting him any longer.

You strongly held on to the shower faucet, in the hopes of it being enough to keep your knees from giving out on you from the overwhelming pleasure spreading across your clit.

He kept sliding his thick cock along your pussy lips coating it in your wetness. It was faintly embarrassing to think of how quickly you’d gotten soaked for him, but on the other hand, you couldn’t really blame yourself for it. Dabi was definitely a natural. You figured he had enough experience to get you all riled up in no time.

You felt him snake one arm around you as his hand travelled down to your pussy. In all honesty, you felt too empty. Even though you hadn’t seen his cock, you had felt it and you craved it more than his fingers at this point.

The palm of his hand brushed against your clit, earning an instant moan from him.

“Dabi... just... fuck me...” you panted in between groans as he teased you with the staples carved into his skin.

Those staples had long caught your attention, but you never thought in a million years that you’d find pleasure in having them brush against your most intimate parts.

His velvety voice came out in a low purr. “Patience... I need you soaked enough to take my cock.”

“I am!” you half-yelled, bucking your hips in an attempt to have his cock placed at your entrance.

The hand teasing your clit stopped abruptly. “Really? Lemme check, then,” just as soon as he whispered those words, he pulled back from you momentarily, pressed one hand on your lower back to have you at a desired angle, before shoving two long fingers inside your wet cunt.

It took all of you to hold back a guttural groan from echoing throughout the bathroom. You bit down on your lower lip, an you reckoned it wouldn’t take long to draw blood. He held you firmly in place with his free hand gripping your hip while he fucked you with his fingers.

“You’re not just soaked... you’re fucking drenched,” he said in bewilderment, curling his digits inside you. “Think you can take a third one?”

You felt another fingertip prodding at your entrance, but you could only nod. There was no way you were going to open your damn mouth. The implications of doing so were far too severe, and you dreaded the idea of anyone outside being able to hear you moan for Dabi.

His third finger struggled at first to join the others. “Tight... just part your legs, doll...”

Doing as he instructed, he finally managed to get the slender digit to slide all the way in, until he was buried in you knuckle-deep. You’d never felt this stretched out before, and the newfound sensation was enough to finally have you let go of your lip and have your mouth fall open in a sigh of pure bliss.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he praised you, while finger-fucking you at a steady rhythm. “You’re literally milking my fingers...”

From the way his voice was starting to emerge fully strained, you figured this was also taking a toll on him. Having your walls involuntarily clench around his moving fingers and hearing him occasionally growl from it, had your ego soar dangerously high. Your entire body was urging you to cum, and as despair overcame your senses, you hand one han settle between your legs to rub your needy clit.

Dabi suddenly stopped thrusting his fingers, and clicked his tongue. “Stop.”

Annoyance hit you hard from the loss of his stimulation. “Fuck!”

His hand grabbed yours. “Let me make you cum. Just me.”

As soon as your gripped the faucet again with both hands, Dabi jumpstarted his ministrations in order to help you reach your much desired high.

“Say my name.”

You truly didn’t want to do that. The fear of losing control and having your moans being heard, kept you from heeding his request once again.

But Dabi had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Both his index and middle fingers pressed against your clit, and you felt the fingertips starting to heat up. He was definitely using his quirk in order to help the heat in your lower belly to intensify. It was a neat trick coming from him, and it was most welcome as you felt the familiar coil of an upcoming orgasm build inside you with each passing second.

“Say. It.”

Obscene soppy sounds left your tight pussy as he showed no signs of faltering his pace. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth hung open as you tightened around him, preparing to let a peak of pleasure wash over your body.

“Fuck... fu-fuck... I...” you mumbled incoherently, not able to muster any comprehensible thoughts.

You were so close.

Your hips jolted into his hand, and just as you were about to cum, you felt sudden emptiness and were left clenching around nothing nothing.

“What the fuck?!” You cried out indignantly. “Why?!”

The high inside your suddenly plummeted back to the ground, leaving you on the verge of tears.

Dabi gave your ass cheek a light smack. “Told you to say my name.”

You turned your head to give him a death glare. “Fuck you!”

He pressed the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Besides, I want you milking my cock.”

With one hard thrust, he pushed himself halfway inside you, unable to hold back a satisfied growl. Right then you understood exactly why he insisted on preparing you for him. He was definitely thicker and bigger than average. The sudden discomfort had you clench tightly around him in reflex, preventing him from going balls deep at once.

“Stop... fuck... stop being so fucking tight....” Dabi growled, stilling inside you. “Relax, doll...”

Your took a few deep breaths as your pussy adjusted to his unexpected size. He placed his hands on your hips, brushing his thumbs in circles across your flushed skin. It was most likely Dabi’s own way of offering comfort.

You weren’t sure how many seconds passed, but you were genuinely grateful he was waiting for you to finally loosen up and allowed his cock to finally slide all the way in.

A sudden gasp emerged from within you as his fingers gripped your hips vigorously, guiding you along his length. He started out slowly, but his self-restraint wasn’t enough to keep him from thrusting faster and deeper into you. The pace he set resembled that of someone on the edge of losing their sanity.

“You really wanna make me cum fast with that tight pussy of yours...”

His words were like fuel to the fire that once more threatened to get out of control soon enough. Your hands desperately grasped the faucet as pleasure overwhelmed you. A few more thrusts had your thighs starting to quiver.

Dabi had his fingers on your clit once again, determined to deliver all the pleasure he could possibly provide.

“Dabi... Dabi!”

His hips faltered for a split second. “Fuck... such a good and tight girl...”

You could hardly breathe once he set a new rhythm, which nearly had your face getting pressed against your hands from the brutal force.

“Dabi...” you mewled, feeling droplets of water mix with your own saliva as strings of spit hung from the corners of your mouth. You were officially drooling for this man.

In no time, your vision started to tunnel as you were thrown into the pinnacle of sheer bliss. Your mind went blank for a brief moment, with his name coming out in broken moans. The ecstatic orgasm had your pussy ripple and squeeze around his cock mercilessly as you kept rocking your hips against his desperate to ride out your high for as long as possible.

“Fuck this...” you heard him mumble at one point, his groans overcame your own. “Fuck!”

His own release was nearing, that much was certain. He was pounding into you hard and fast, jackhammering into you like his life depended on it, driving the breath from your lungs.

You had long descended from your orgasm, but you were still left to deal with the overstimulation from his cock sliding in and out of you relentlessly.

Tears soon prickled the corners of your eyes. “Oh my... god... enough.... Dabi...”

He responded by rubbing your clit harder in unison with his thrusts.

“Fuuuuuuck!”

His long drawn out groan let you know he had finally reached his peak. Your own knees began to tremble from having to hold your body in that position for so long, but he made sure you weren’t going anywhere. With a few pumps of his hips in a broken rhythm, you felt hot sprays of cum shoot inside your pussy.

He slapped your ass cheek once he was done, enjoying the sight of your pussy still tightly wrapped around him.

“What a pretty pussy....”

Your heart was still racing and your breath coming out uneven.

In one swift motion, he fully slid from inside you, and you immediately felt his cum drip as your walls contracted. “Let’s get you all cleaned up. Then we can take a proper shower.”

You were fairly certain you might regret what just happened later on, but for now, you chose to brush that aside.

Dabi wasn’t someone easy to read.

He most definitely wasn’t someone easy to get.

For the time being, you’d relish on the fact that you had made him cum. Probably not something curriculum worthy, but it was good for you and your ego.

-

Masterlist

[im-in-vin-ci-ble]

Love Thy Neighbour, Ch. 2

A/N: finally got around to chapter 2!! sorry 4 the delay. also changing this to 2nd person lol

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Rating: E

Warnings: minor smut!! Mark’s still a bit of a perv. some swearing

Summary: Mark is now tasked to give his next door neighbour a tour of the city, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the hot summer day without acting on the tension between you two. 

As your family and the Graysons sat around their dining table, Mark tried his best not to make eye contact with you. You could, however, feel his eyes on you every now and again, but he would catch himself if he felt like he was being too obvious.  

There were a million things running through Mark’s head at the second, and thoughts were mostly disbelief that you, the girl he saw from across his window, were now sitting across him. He secretly revelled at the sight of your form in that tight top tank — a form he almost familiarized himself with yesterday. His eyes would then move up to your gorgeous face, noticing how you only offered small smiles during the conversation, or how you licked your lips when you were asked question.

“I’m still trying to get used to the weather,” you told Debbie and Nolan, who asked you if you were adjusting well. “I didn’t know it could get so hot in the city,” you added, subtly emphasizing on “hot” just to get a reaction from Mark who just could not sit still. 

During the conversation, the Graysons found out that your mom was a doctor and your dad was a nurse — an explanation as to why they were barely at home. Mark also excitingly found out that you’ll be attending the same school and the same grade in the fall, and that you haven’t had the chance to explore the city because your parents were so busy at the hospital. 

“Mark has some free days while he’s on break,” Nolan said, turning his attention to his son. “I’m sure you can show Y/N around, right?”

Snapping out of the trance you unintentionally put him in, Mark sat up and mumbled a soft “Huh?” in return. 

“I said you can show Y/N around the city on your free days this summer,” Nolan repeated.

“That sounds like a great offer, Mr. Grayson,” you began, “but I wouldn’t want to impose.” You looked over at Mark who was slowly turning red and added, “I don’t want to ruin your plans with your friends.”

“No plans!” he quickly replied in a high-pitched voice before clearing his throat. He continued, “I mean... I don’t really have... a lot of plans this summer. I can— I can definitely give you a tour.”

“There you go, honey, now you don’t have to wait around for us,” your dad said. “Thank you Mark, we really appreciate it.”

“For sure,” Mark responded. “I’m actually free tomorrow if... you are,” he told you.

You nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

— — —

While Mark prepared for bed, he happened to look up at what was now his favorite window. He put on a clean white T-shirt and moved closer, waiting to see if you would make an appearance. As the curtains in your room swayed with the gust of wind from your fan, he looked on as you entered your room with the same terrycloth towel from yesterday afternoon. The routine was similar, except he found the courage to keep his eyes open the whole time. Mark watched the silhouette of your bare body walk to one end of the room then the other, before putting on a shirt and underwear and closing your closet. He stepped back as he saw you move closer to your open window, but he wasn’t prepared for what came next — you slightly drew your curtains open and looked straight at him, offering a wink as you shut your window, drew your curtains closed, and turned off your lights.

This sent the teenage boy into a panic of both excitement and anxiety as he thought of what could possibly happen tomorrow. Turning off his lights, he practically crawled over to his bed and laid there for 10 minutes, thinking of whether or not he should bring this up with you tomorrow. Every time he came up with ways to do so, though, his mind drifted off to the sight of your body and the suggestive wink you threw his way. He could feel the blood rush to his body, and even though he felt like it was wrong, he eventually caved in to his own desires. Mark reached over to his bedside table and pulled out a box of tissues and a bottle of lotion, removed his boxer shorts and pumped a handful of lotion on his dominant hand. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and began sloppily working his erection to the thought of you and the thought of what he wants to happen tomorrow. He squirmed as he imagined you under his blanket, his hand holding on to your hair as he guides you up and down. Mark lowly grumbled your name as he quickly finished on his stomach, but the anxiety of tomorrow entered his mind almost immediately.

“I’m so fucked,” he whispered to himself.

— — —

You woke up the next day bright and early, but not bright enough to say goodbye to your parents who had already left for the hospital. You comfortably stretched on your bed and took a look at the sunlight entering your room from one of the windows, determined to make this day interesting for you and Mark.

Once you were ready, you knocked on the Graysons’ front door and were immediately greeted by Mark. 

“Hey, hi!” he said excitedly as he closed and locked the door behind him. He let out an awkward chuckle and shoved his hands in his pocket, “You uh... ready?” 

“More than ever,” you assured him with a smile as you walked ahead of him and back to your house. 

Watching you walk him him to your house absolutely thrilled Mark. Shit, is this it? Are we really doing this? he said to himself. His confidence and teenage libido shot through the roof as you both walked along the paved ground that lead to your home, quietly hyping himself for what was about to come.

He stopped on his tracks and cleared his throat, garnering your attention. “Are we really doing this?” he asked you with a cheeky smile. 

You shot him a confused look, “I thought we agreed on this yesterday?”

“I know, I know, I just wanna double check,” he replied, gradually walking closer until he was mere inches away from you, “because we’re only gonna do this if you wanna do this.”

You bit your lower lip and closed the gap between your bodies that were baking in the summer heat. Looking straight into his eyes with sensual motive, you slowly moved your hand down to your shorts and watched as Mark’s eyes grew wide in anticipation. Finally, you fished out a set of keys from your pocket and handed them over to him.

“You drive.”

The exhilarated look on Mark’s face quickly dissipitated as you walked around him and over to the driver’s seat of the sedan parked outside the garage. His eyes, accented by the crossed brows, followed your trail that was now waiting for the car door to open.

“What?” he asked in bewilderment.

“You’re 17 too, so I can assume you drive?” you hit back, waiting for him to press the unlock button on the car key.

He shut his eyes tight and shook his head in an attempt to snap out of it yet again. “I can, yeah,” he answered, “sorry I thought—”

“Thought what?” you cut him off, your eyes playfully teasing him.

Mark let out a sigh of disappointment and shook his head again. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said, making his way to the car and unlocking the doors for you.”

“Great,” you replied, opening the door of the passenger seat. “Let’s get this show on the road,” you said, throwing a wink his way before you entering the sedan.

A slight chuckle, which was almost mixed with a sigh of relief, escaped Mark’s lips as he momentarily stared the car. He nodded to himself and entered the car, but looked at you with a mischievous grin before starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway.  

[joanthelovely]

Frosty: Should have stayed a song

I'm starting off my December right by watching Frosty the Snowman. I have not watched this in years and was beginning to question why I had removed it from the yearly rotation of animations that I watch. At one point I had watched the short so much that I could quote the commercial that cut in on my tape that had been recorded off of tv. But alas...adulthood cut this from my life...maybe...had I stopped watching it before that?

Here are some thoughts that I had as I watched it with fresher adult eyes that had not seen this in probably 20 years:

I forgot Jimmy Durante was in this. How do I know who that is? How do I not know what that is? He has such a distinctive voice and face...I probably just remember him from all the caricatures in old cartoons. THERE ARE A TON.

I prefer the claymation to this animation. Rankin and Bass did this one through Mushi Production and while I love Osamu Tezuka and his studio with a fiery passion...this was just not good. I even enjoyed the original short from 1953 more than this AND IT WAS LESS ANIMATED.

This guy just kills me...I hate him so much. He's a terrible villain and not just because he's inept...he's so boring. So very boring. And Whiny. Did we really need to have a villain? Does the song have a villain?

The head is the most difficult part...if you know what I mean *eyebrow wiggle*

This is Karen. I don't like Karen. I don't much care for any of the children or the voice acting. I think they turned a perfectly good song into a perfectly terrible short. None of you are believable! I don't believe any of you built a magical snowman who can sing and dance.

Happy Birthday...now lets name our Snowman friend:

Harold? Christopher Columbus? Oatmeal?

Bruh...you can't call him Oatmeal. What kind of a name is Oatmeal for a snowman? Frosty...obviously...sheesh

Which came first? the song? the movie? I didn't actually know the correct answer to that so I had to stop everything and look it up or it would bother me too much to continue.

Looks like the original was out in 1950 with this production hitting in 1969. Jimmy and Gene Autry both sang and released it at the same time....but I swear the radio only plays Jimmy. I'm going to have to go dig up the Autry edition.

Dude takes his hat back even after seeing Frosty come to life…how…why? No one is questioning this. Magic talking snowman. No one is freaking out. Even the Magician is just like...Oh...Its a magic hat...I"ll just take that back.

Silly silly silly.

Please quit doing this. Your point is not made better by repeating it 3 times. He does this a lot. Too much. 0/10 stars

So nonchalant about the living snowman. No one is freaking out...like I get it, new friend...but TALKING SNOWMAN OHMYGODWHYISTHISHAPPENING

I'm alive. What a neat thing to happen to a guy like me. But oh no. I'm gonna melt.

...like right this second? because honestly a good packed snow will last awhile *shrug* maybe slow down

We have trains to the north pole? Where do these children live that that seems like a viable option.

Lets have a parade? Ok ...why not...

Finally! Vindication! The rest of the adults are acting appropriately. You should double take when a walking talking snowman is pulling a pied piper down the center of your town.

3000.04 for a ticket to the north pole. That is really really specific and also a lot of work to pull for a child on her own asking questions. I actually don't know what a train ticket would cost to go that far. Sounds pretty cheap with all the layovers involved.

Karen...you can't go everywhere with your new buddy. Karen, do your parents know where you are?

Lets just put Frosty in the cold car. With the cakes. The cakes that are just out there in the open in the cold car. Must be some super awesome tiering going on there. That can't be sanitary for those cakes, no boxes or nothing.

Little girl, your mother will mind if you travel cross country in a cold car with Frosty. Get your ass home!

I don't like the Magicians voice either. It sounds so familiar but I've not seen anything else this guy has been in.

At least the boxcar was insulated from the wind...now we're just dealing with exposure. I'm sure you holding her can't be good for either of you.

Did you just ask the animals of the forest to light a fire for you?

I guess he didn't need the hat for magic. Dude just blew out a campfire.

They were so lucky that there was a greenhouse at the end of the hill...which then has me pondering why are Poinsettias a Christmas thing when they can't actually grow during Christmas?

This is some terrible buffoonery here. Are you really whining at Santa? Really?

At this point I think I've figured out the reason this hasn't been in the rotation. This story has just gotten to be too nonsensical for me. I love a good fantasy but these non-existent forced relationships just aren't doing it for me. You have a terrible unnecessary villain, an idiot child I just want to yell at for running off like she doesn't have parents that are worried about her, and an idiot snowman who knows he needs to go to the North Pole but thought dragging along Karen was a good idea? At least Rudolph did more world building...

Really, Santa? Just going to leave her up there on the roof?