#this stream was so much fun and it kept getting better (or worse)

[thisismenow3]

This is a huge cop out in two very specific and obvious ways.

One, the media kept showing him so that his charisma could work on swing voters even though the way to deal with firehosing propaganda is to turn off the spigot. And it really is the media at large, a few legacy publications would MOSTLY stand against him but there was way too much of how the legacy media treats republicans before and now; “well of course they’re gonna do this, let’s rag on everyone and everything that hasn’t immediately fixed the problem.”

That last part gets into point two; the media from the written legacy news outlets to the even worse televised outfits (from local to msnbc and cnn) all had badly misinformed the public by doing piss poor journalism for decades. It’s no wonder that people can’t stomach thin pieces not in depth investigative reporting when the news feeds a steady stream of skewed reality with “bleeds it reads” and “let’s just make false equivocation our central model cause reporting is apparently just doing poor polling methodology.” Before you even get to the ways editors and producers bent reporting away from informing people on real solutions on how the world really is with police, labor, healthcare, taxes, etc, you have to contend with the fact that the people hired to the top papers and every news desk were hired because they see value in piss port approaches to journalism. They see value in “boff sides!” everything because chasing the impossible “free of bias” as a personal goal eclipses the professional and institutional primary objective of “inform.” If I’m focusing on the wrong things I’m not building an actual approximation of the reality I’m hoping to convey.

Now add to this that most people don’t tune into news in the same way most people don’t floss. So every “but her emails!” every “Donald became presidential today!” every “we could cover all Biden’s progressive policies and their downstream impacts if it’s more fun to wildly speculate about his health!” has repercussions when it’s most likely one of the only news pieces tens of millions of adults in this country tune into. “This is a threat to democracy!” rings hollow to they engaged when everything about how the news media is operating is the exact same as 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 20, etc.

We got here because republicans have overall won the last 40-50 years. From real integration barely ever happening to schools getting worse from conservative policy making every decade to work and organizing getting worse and less, to news outlets phoning it in and patting themselves on the back as if the ten percent of times they actually try at all fixes when they don’t or that it matters when their whole core idea of their job is flawed in such a crucial way… we got here because conservatives understood that you can lose certain battles but you win wars by digging in on certain ones until they go your way. We have had some policy gains but the central premise since Reagan has been to make us less of a democracy and make government more conservative in other ways too. They e always had that. And the press being out to lunch and/or in bed with this agenda is part of how we got here.

Of course this is partially the press’s fault! Y’all couldn’t handle the machinations of the neo con’s decades ago you can’t handle the apotheosis of that which is Trump.

Lastly, the “most Americans” thing ain’t true. Trump got barely more voters than last time, the same is true for most other races republicans won. But way fewer white middle to upper income people from 30-50 voted at all this election compared to 2020. Our country is getting shafted now because a lot of smaller demographics make up the majority that is most voters being non conservatives while conservatives have fewer demographics making up their coalition AND institutional advantages. One of which is a media that has become an easy plaything for conservatives from Rove to Musk and Rogan. Do better journalists at elite institutions

[colourmeblood]

"If you send 500 hearts now, Klaas is gonna test wear this body."

[recareels]

✩°｡⋆ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞! ⋆｡°✩

anonymous wrote: how would the boys react with a reader that likes to nibble them?

characters: ajax/tartaglia, kamisato ayato, thoma, alhaitham

notes: aaah this was really fun anon thank you for your question! happy valentine’s day everyone!!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, biting, bruising, blood, minimal prep, daddy kink, sadism, dom/sub power/relationship dynamics, a mention of dacryphilia in ajax’s, reader is female

words: 1.5k

✧˖°. 𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐱 | 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚 .°˖✧

ajax has a huge biting kink and absolutely will bite you back at least twice as hard. he likes to make it a game of sorts; who can bite the hardest? who can stand it the longest? who will give in/give up first? who will finally cry out in pain? who can conjure pretty little crystalline drops of hedonistic agony in the other’s eyes, adorning thick eyelashes and soft cheeks? who can break skin and draw blood first? who can leave the biggest, deepest, harshest bruised bite? and when it’s finally over, when he inevitably comes out on top, emerges as the winner, he likes to compare battle wounds, making little comments in that soft, sweet, awe-stricken voice before taking polaroids of the prettiest marks—immortalizing them for safekeeping, kept between the pages of an old, worn journal—and dating them with little notes in that signature spiky slanted handwriting, thoughts scrawled in black sharpie across the bottom border.

it’s routine, ritual, at this point, for him to take his time appreciating each and every wound he’s carved into your flesh, tracing the indents of his teeth, all thirty-two of them, with his index finger in the most loving, gentlest caresses. lips journey across the map of his creations with docile little kisses—ghosts of adoration that skim and stroke your marred skin, flesh still oozing crimson and flowering a scattered collection of oceanic bruises, all violet and charcoal and deep azure—before he dips into them with his tongue, laving over them and filling the tiny craters with viscous saliva, sticky and thick.

but despite his inherent sadism, he is an absolute king at aftercare, tending to both your wounds and his own with the utmost devotion as murmured praises pour in endless streams from his lips. the sentiments wash over your body in seamless conjunction with his hands, purifying you in every sense, his words like a soothing salve as his fingers work diligently, cleaning and bandaging, patching up and healing your wounds.

✧˖°. 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 .°˖✧

he laughs, low and smooth and drenched with condescension, as if your sharp teeth sinking into his flesh are nothing more than the tickle of a feather, as if it’s so cute that you think you can hurt him, that you think you can have any affect on him at all. you should know better, really; ayato is masterful at controlling his emotions and reactions, and the chances of conjuring a genuine response that isn’t carefully curated and constructed is slim. you know better than to break the skin, though, know better than to ever leave a mark darker than something that won’t fade within fifteen minutes, that if you do it’s an instant spanking for you—or worse, depending on the severity of the wound.  

it’s cute, he tells you, that you want to mark up Daddy so much, claiming your territory and stamping him as yours. but he promises you can do that in other ways that don’t induce public speculation on what he does in his personal life, he’s sure.

you agree, for the most part, hating the impermanence of bruises and bite marks irregardless and preferring something that is much more concrete, something that makes a statement, bold and firm and uneraseable. but this doesn’t stop the edges of your teeth scraping along his skin—his jaw and his neck and the exposed notches of his collarbone—because it was never really about that, was it?

no, of course not. because you only get this way, suddenly voracious and starved for his flesh, suddenly compulsive and desperate to gnaw on his bones, when he’s busy, when you’re sat on his lap and snuggling into his chest after begging and crying and swearing you’ll be good, when he’s entirely disregarding your presence in favour of the thick manila folders on his desk and the weathered documents between his fingers.

you both know he could ignore it if he wanted to, could resist giving into your pathetic little demands for attention with the utmost ease, unbothered and unfazed by the little pricks of pain your nips and nibbles conjure, but that isn’t very fun.  

a hum of mock contemplation vibrates against his ribs, his voice deep and decadent, dark and dangerous as he murmurs out a warning. “do you think it’s wise to bite Daddy while he’s trying to do work, baby? you promised you’d behave if he let you stay with him, but you’re not behaving in the slightest, are you?”

no, you’re not, and he’s going to fucking do something about it. because that’s what good Daddy’s are supposed to do, isn’t it?

✧˖°. 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚 .°˖✧

moans, loudly. he tries to resist how fucking good it feels, the way it makes his stomach swoop and flutter, the way it makes his cock twitch almost violently, and in a sweet, shaky voice he attempts to coax you out of it, each gentle request met with a sinful little giggle, bubbly and warm as sunshine as it seeps into his skin. each cute little bite is sealed with your tongue, wide and flat against his skin as it drags across the rapidly developing mark, painting each in a stroke of glistening saliva. chills skitter across his flesh with every precious laugh you huff out, your amusement cool against his wet neck.

thoma lets you have your fun for longer than any of the other men would, because he has such a difficult time firmly saying no to you and asserting his authority; because he only ever wants to give you the very best, make you the very happiest, almost desperate in the way he shreds himself into curls of tinder and sets himself alight in his haste to give into your every wish and whim.

that doesn’t mean he’s invincible, though. sure, he’ll allow such behaviour to continue for as long as he can possibly stand it, except you keep pushing and pushing—ruthlessly, ceaselessly, keen to see just how far you can prod before those flames of desire licking at his tummy and up his throat finally erupt into an untameable blaze—and eventually, Daddy has to do something about it.

because he’s only human, after all; there’s only so much teasing a man can take—only so many little nips of your canines, only so many kittenish laps over minuscule injuries, only so many bounces of your cotton-clad pussy on his clothed cock in time with each of your giggles—before he’s finally rucking up your skirt, hem bunching around your waist, eager fingers tugging your panties to the side and shoving his cock into your ill-prepared but slick cunt. a heavy sigh of bliss wafts across your face as he bottoms out, bones melting beneath the heat of his scorching lust, body relaxed, relieved, as the fire is fed. 

✧˖°. 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 .°˖✧

he’ll let you have your fun for a little bit, gnawing away on his neck and shoulder and collarbone, head tilting slightly to allow you more room to work as incisors nibble along his jaw—gentle little nips that are nothing more than teasing, lacquered in shimmering spit only a moment later. however, as time goes on, the force and strength and pressure of your bites increases, becomes harder, heavier, hellacious—he knows this, of course, expects it every time, because he knows you inside out, back to front, his favourite storybook to study, a living, breathing, constantly evolving tale edited by him, and there’s only so far he’ll allow you to go before he decides it’s time to put you back in your rightful place, restore you back to your rightful state.

you know when he’s getting close to snapping, too; can feel it in the way smooth, sculpted muscle begins to tense and coil beneath you, can tell by the way his cock begins to swell, slow and steady, hard and hot and heavy as it presses into your core, rough denim gyrating in micro-circles against soft, lace trimmed cotton. but it’s when his breath stutters, fragmented to sharp little shards that catch in his throat after a particularly vicious bite, that you know he’s finally cracked.

then he’s flipping you over, body trapped between his and the couch, so quick it knocks the breath from your chest, so quick your mind can’t even comprehend it before you’re ensnared beneath him, sharp hipbones snuggling between plush thighs as a growl ripples his ribs. sharp ivory slices into your flesh, strong jaw flexing as the hinges clamp shut, locked in place until his teeth thoroughly etch his name across your body in deep, dark indents that’ll take over a day to puff up, blooming a tiny grotesque garden of molds of each tooth; rigid little graves and groves in shades of violet and navy. his cock throbs against you the entire time, rutting into your core in barely controlled movements, resistance and restraint stretched into thin taut vines. but it isn’t until you’re whining out his name, high and pitchy and broken, stuffed full of spit and straining with sobs, that he finally unlatches his mouth from your neck and gives you what you really want, thick cock tearing you open as he buries himself in your cute little hole and fills you to the hilt, head pressed firm and tight against your cervix.

[lixiektty]

꒰ঌ cupid's cams : choi yeonjun ໒꒱ — prev ▸ next

word count: 2.5k, warnings/kinks: camboy!yeonjun, dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, language, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, praise, degradation, daddy kink, creampie, thigh slapping, dumbification, recording content for yj's OF, pls feel free to let me know if i missed anything!!

taglist: @hyynee, @enha-cafe, @xiaoderrrr, @lethallyprotected

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cupid's cams masterlist

yeonjun knew sex like he knew the back of his hand. he was so good at it, too good that you began wondering about his experience. it didn't bother you that yeonjun seemed to know more than you did, it could just get uncomfortable when you tried taking the lead.

you were on the bed, playing games on yeonjun's phone as he cleaned the kitchen up and showered. having that trust always made you happy, even if all you did was help him with his daily quests on each game he had downloaded. you were having fun, until a notification popped up—someone replying to a tweet yeonjun posted. you didn't even think he had twitter.

'so hot 😍' it read.

your blood boiled, skin turning hot. jealousy. who could possibly be commenting on his posts? what did he post to receive such a comment? you felt guilty pressing on it but that didn't stop you. the twitter app opened, and you were met with the exact comment you saw that got you here under yeonjun's tweet.

'new vids up! subscribe for better content 😉💦' with a picture of his cock laying against his stomach.

it just didn't make sense. all this time yeonjun was basically a pornstar and you had no idea about it—and you knew for a fact that was your boyfriend's body, you've seen it way too much and know it all too well.

"alright, finally done babe. what're we watchin'?" yeonjun asked, entering the room with a big smile.

your expression didn't match though, you had tears swelling in your eyes when you looked up at him, cheeks burning with your hands shaking trying to hold the phone.

"baby?" yeonjun called out to you, noticing your discomfort.

"yeonju—un," you start, voice shaky and mind filled with everything but answers, answers you needed, "are you... selling yourself online?"

"give me that," yeonjun said, arm stretching to snatch the phone from your hands.

he looks down to see what you had come across, his heart falling straight to his ass. it wasn't that he didn't want to tell you, he just didn't know how to bring it up without possibily blowing things up.

"i do live streams once a week where i... you know... and people pay to see that," he admits, "and on my days off i post onlyfans content."

"when did you plan on telling me?" you asked, voice going out slightly.

"someday... it just wasn't easy," yeonjun says, coming to sit beside you on the bed. he looked down talking about the situation and that only hurt you more, "i been doing this for nearly three years and it ruined my last relationship, so i stayed single for a while and slept around."

a part of you had sympathy for him, even after being angry that he kept this from you for so long and possibly longer if you hadn't found out tonight.

"i just didn't want you to feel weirded out and make me quit or worse, leave me," he adds on. he sounded genuine and your heart broke at the fact that yeonjun didn't trust you because of his past.

"what makes you think me out of all people would judge you? i'm nothing like your past girlfriends, yeonjun. i know you, i trust you." you responded, reassuringly. you give gentle to rub his shoulder in a way of telling him you were no longer mad. of course, you didn't appreciate that he wasn't vocal about the secret occupation, but you understood why he wasn't, "and as long as it's only for the money and you're not secretly having feelings for all the people that give you it," you add.

"never," yeonjun turns his head, big eyes looking at you lovingly, "only you."

"okay," you reply. your worries faded away, leaving your body and turning into sudden need, "let's film something then."

"wai— what?" yeonjun's innocent and loving expression snapped into confusion.

"you need some content, don't you? i can help you out," you suggested, hand moving up and down his arm and perching up onto his shoulder.

his eyes shifted to a darker shade, heart nearly beating out of his chest. he didn't expect that him confessing would go well, especially not this well. everyday he worried about telling you, feared that you'd kick him to the curb and make him feel bad about himself—that fear was no longer present.

"god, you have never seemed hotter than you do right now," yeonjun said before chasing your lips and messily kissing you.

your arms wrap around his neck to pull him down with you on the matress, his limbs tangling with yours once your bodies mesh together. yeonjun didn't waste a single second, dipping his fingers into your shorts immediately and collecting your dripping essence.

a moan slips from your mouth straight into his, the pads of his fingers toying with your clit, teasing you more each time he moved lower with the tips of his fingers slightly entering you.

"fuck, j-jun, need you," you whine, jerking up into his palm.

yeonjun trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck and collarbone, lips taking in some of your skin to suck roughly. his fingers moved in faster circles against your bud, causing him to feel more eager that his was gently humping your thigh as he grew harder.

you were whining needily, just wanting to feel his cock stretching you open. he sat up, pulling his hand out of your shorts, soon removing them from your body and spreading your legs for him to sit in between.

"so wet already, barely even touched you," he teases. bullshit.

your clit was throbbing in anticipation, hole opening and closing with each deep breath you took. yeonjun was in a hurry trying to get the knot in his sweatpants untied, his struggle being pretty obvious to you.

you sat up, replacing his hands with yours, taking the strings between your fingers and untying them slowly as you looked up at him with big eyes. fuck, if he wasn't already hard enough.

yeonjun bends down to kiss you, chin between his fingers. you were stripping him from his sweats and boxers, his cock sprung up and you were quick to grab ahold. you pumped it gently up and down then slowly falling back until your back hit the mattress, bringing yeonjun with you.

"have i told you how much i love you?" yeonjun breaks from the kiss—his pretty lips all pink and swole.

"many times," you giggle, "but i'd like if you showed me."

yeonjun grins, quick to take your hand off of him, snatch you shirt from you and angle his tip near your entrance. the light stretches from his cock being pushed further into you made your body feel ecstatic and you were clinging onto him in an instant.

no matter how many times yeonjun fucked you, you'd still feel numb with each inch that entered you, surprised from his size but taking it so well.

"daddy's tight little pussy feels so good every time," yeonjun whispers into your ear, leaving a wet kiss behind.

yeonjun draws his hips back, pushing back into you and repeating this until you cry out for more. his fingers meet your clit again as he fucked you slightly faster. you were moaning loud, causing yeonjun's ears to ring—but he didn't even mind, the sounds you made because of his doing was like an ego boost.

this soon reminds him of your suggestion, before you two had even got here in the first place. he was letting his dick think too much for him that he completely forgot your original agreement.

he sits up and takes your hips into his hands to keep you steady once he picked up the pace, making you clench down on his cock tightly.

"lights, camera, action, my love," yeonjun says, picking up his phone and switching to the camera app.

yeonjun clicks the red button, beginning to record the sight, so sinful and messy. he smiles watching your pussy take his cock on his phone that captured it so well.

"fuck baby, look so fucking hot taking my dick like this," he says. you'd think it was all talk for the camera if wasn't for how he already acted during your times alone.

he was filthy, loved expressing how he was feeling and giving you a verbal visualization of what he could see at the moment. to see you like this as he records, knowing he'd get to keep it for himself gave him—this new rush of adrenaline and he's soon pounding into your dripping cunt, unholy noises echoing off the four walls surrounding you.

your hands scrambled any and everywhere to find something to claw onto, finding yeonjun's waist and sinking your nails deep. yeonjun let out a gasp, strangely enjoying this newfound pain that didn't necessarily hurt—it felt good. really fucking good.

"oh, baby," he moans breathlessly.

you couldn't see him due to your eyes being snapped shut and you could just barely open them, but you knew he looked good. sweaty and strong as he fucked you into bliss.

"har—harder," you sigh, both your hands now clawing at his abdomen.

you sounded so cute when you'd beg, felt even better when he knew you wanted to be more verbal for the sake of the content—loud and uncontrollable moans even louder now that you were being filmed.

yeonjun slid his thighs from under your to further get comfortable and fuck you properly. you were now lying flat against the mattress, thighs spread and his fingers on your sensitive bud. he pulled his hips back, slamming back into you repeatedly, "such a slut for daddy, aren't you?"

"mhm—" you hum in response, yelping when yeonjun slaps your inner thigh.

"words." he warns through his teeth.

"yes, daddy," you moan, hips jerking up to feel more friction.

yeonjun being mean to you did something to you that you couldn't explain, it was hard to in words. he was already hot, but he was so much hotter when speaking to you like that—making you feel so guilty for being a slut, something he turned you into.

not a day went by where you didn't think about his bare skin on display for you as he's drilling into you with his fat cock, reaching every spot inside you as possible.

you both admired each other with no clothes on, that's why most of the time they were off. something about your tits pressed against his chest, close in all ways gave him joy because he knew he only got this. this made him cocky, treating your body like no other and knowing he's the only one that can feel you this way.

yeonjun didn't try to hold back any longer, going from low grunts to even louder groans. he was destroying you in the best way possible, not even just because you were being recorded, but because you most definitely deserved it. he has never had someone like you, someone so supportive and loving, making him feel like the only man in the world and fucking him good while doing so.

his followers were infact aware of his relationship status, but he kept that part of himself private. he only ever posted and talked about himself, never hooked up with someone else only for onlyfans content before you two got together. even now, he felt like he was taking away some of your privacy because he genuinely did keep you secret for the most part.

yeonjun could feel himself repeatedly twitch inside you, warm walls feeling incredible sucking him in and dripping more by the second. you felt brain dead, drooling from the mouth and high-pitched moans escaping your throat.

the room was hot, you weren't sure if it was just your skin or it was the mixture of sweaty bodies and hot breaths that caused the room to warm up how it did.

you could feel that knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter, you were a moaning mess, babbling some incoherent things but yeonjun knew that meant you were enjoying it because you were turning stupid.

"dumb little slut, so hungry for me," yeonjun says, a whimper falling from his mouth when you clench again. he was plowing into like he'd be the last time, you just felt even better than you have before that it was driving yeonjun insane, "shit, i'm gonna cum—want it, baby?"

"so, s—s bad, p-please fill me up daddy," you struggle to say, which pushed him further—he appreciated your manners even when you could barely talk.

he grins, only something you could see, with his hand all over you to touch every inch of your torso as possible. his other hand was gripping tightly on his phone where he watch the scene rip before his eyes. your breasts bounced with each aggressive thrust he sent into you.

"daddy—" you whine, your brain was so fuzzy that his name was the only thing that came to mind along with swears falling from your mouth.

yeonjun grunted, louder and louder until he got to his high. so very close and he just wanted to feel you full of his cum, belly bulging from the amount he was soon to let out. his size already doing that and the camera catching it so well.

"so fucking sexy," yeonjun slurred his words, grabbing the back of one of your thighs and pushing your knee to your chest.

you felt him twitch again, thrusts get sloppy. he circled his hips and hit your g-spot roughly, cursing a few more times and then painting your velvet walls.

"oh my god—" you cry out, hands going down to stop him from moving further but he just kept the same pace.

you came in an instant, the fullness yeonjun was providing you overwhelming you. the sounds he made too—he sounded so god damn good.

"mhm, cum baby~" yeonjun cooed, "just like that, such a good whore for your junnie."

you lost track of your breathing, not knowing how to do a thing. he fucked you dumb daily, yet this was different—the fact that he had a camera on you capturing it all for anyone to watch but at the end of the day, you were only his, and he treated your body with such care even when being rough.

yeonjun catches his breath, turning off his phone and throwing it to the side. he leans down and kisses you, your arms and legs wrapping around his long stature.

"you... are so fucking amazing," yeonjun praises, kissing your nose, "i'll be more honest from now on, like i have something else to confess..." it scared you because, what else could he be hiding? your anxiety drifted away once you saw that beautiful smile of his play along his face, "that was probably the best sex we've ever had," he admits.

"glad we think alike, choi," you smile, pecking his nose as he did to you and soon his pouty lips. it was gentle but messy, having the urge to clench on his cock that had begun softening.

"are you leading me on so i'll fuck you again, hm?" he tilted his head slightly, dark gaze burning a hole through you.

"not that i'm asking for it," you trail on, trying to look away and hide your smile and light teasing you were so obviously doing to him.

yeonjun grew hard again from your clenching, thrusting up into you and grabbing your body until it was pressed against his, arm wrapped tightly around your waist, "oh you're asking for it."

[honeesucker]

Not to be horny on main™ but my obsession with the COD men has reared its ugly head.

"Atta girl," Price's deep voice groaned above you as you sat shaded beneath his desk, his thick cock heavy on your tongue as you bobbed up and down on the hardened length, sucking him deep into your mouth until his heavy cockhead was prodding the back of your throat, eliciting a few small gags.

His large hands were on your head, one gently holding the side of your head steady, his thumb running across your cheek; his other hand tangled in your hair, gripping the back of your head as he gently fucked you up and down on his cock with a gentle force.

One of your hands worked on massaging his heavy balls, a groan leaving his lips as he rained down filthy praise at you, his orgasm moments away when a loud, three-strike knock sounded at his door.

All of his movements ceased, though he kept the hand tangled in your hair as he had you pressed so far down on his cock the trim pubes at the base of his cock tickled your nose. You know he was giving you a gag order: you better stay quiet.

"Enter," Price's steady voice called out, and as the door opened it revealed your worst nightmare... the man you never wanted to catch you down on your knees for your Captain... Simon fucking Riley. "Simon, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Price asked casually, his hand detangling from your hair as you followed his silent order, keep his cock warm in your mouth.

"Captain, Sir... I wanted to make a recommendation on Private [Name]." Your whole body froze at the mention of your name... was he here to tell Price you were a worthless soldier, not worth the air you breathed while working on the task force... he was your Lieutenant, after all... his word could get you transferred, or discharged, or worse should he so choose.

"A recommendation, Simon? You're not usually a man to give up on a soldier so easily," Price adjusted his hips, his cock briefly pushing deeper down your throat, a subtle reminder to stay quiet as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk.

"Not giving up on that little demon, Price," Ghost said thoughtfully, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'm recommending her for promotion to Sergeant, to train alongside Soap. She's proven it in her training, she's proven her worth in the missions... I think she'd make one hell of a Sergeant, Sir." Ghost finished, the sound of papers shuffling as he pulled out his report on you from beneath his vest and set it on Price's desk.

"Simon, I'm touched... you don't normally take a shine to our rookies like this." Price murmured out with a hint of humor in his voice, arching a brow as he looked up at Ghost who just shrugged, a hidden smile beneath that balaclava covering his face. "Alright, Simon, I'll take your recommendation into consideration, write my report and get it sent up to the higher-ups for final decision." Price finished, Ghost none the wiser to you cock warming his boss beneath his desk as he turned to leave Price's office.

However...

On the other side of the door Ghost was smirking beneath his mask... you two weren't sneaky enough to slip past his observant gaze, and it was too much fun to make his recommendation to Price when Ghost knew you were on your knees beneath his desk. Ghost turned and walked away from Price's office with an unusual pep in his step, feeling a bit cheeky. Ghost didn't care if you were a slut for their Captain, he cared the most about how good of a soldier you were, and your contributions to the team.

Price took a moment before looking down at you, shocked by the sight of fat streams of tears slipping down your cheeks. He was already worried as he pulled you off his cock, rubbing his thumbs on your cheeks to wipe away your tears. "What's the matter, lass?" Price asked as you just sniffled and looked up at him with a pout.

"H-He... he doesn't hate me... h-he thinks I-I'm good e-enough to be a S-Sergeant?" You sobbed softly, overwhelmed with emotion and pride in yourself and all of your hard work, even more that a man you admired thought highly of you enough to make such a recommendation.

"Oh, you poor thing..." Price pulled you up from your knees, hugging your waist as he pulled you between his legs, his head resting just beneath your breasts on your abdomen, listening to your rapidly beating heart, and soft, shaky breaths. "You deserve it, I meant what I said to him... I'll finish my own report today and send it up for final decision but with your track record I don't think they'd deny our choice..." Price said softly, pulling you back as he wiped more of your tears away. "You deserve it, lass, you worked hard for this... in more ways than one I might add." Price couldn't hold back his laughter as you frowned and punched his shoulder softly at the jab.

"Respectfully, Sir..." you said with a sharp tone, an edge of humor in your words. "Shut it." You both laughed together and then Price's hands landed on your hips, pulling you closer as he looked up at you.

"Now how about we finished what we started, and you come bounce on my cock, lass?" Price offered, groaning as your hand travelled down and gripped his still-hard cock.

"Is that an order, Captain?" You asked cheekily.

"That's an order, Private... show me just how grateful you are for my recommendation with that talented pussy of yours." He growled out with a low rumble, his voice reverberating through you as you shuddered softly.

"Yes, Sir..."

[ihrtnemi]

The Winds Have Changed

In where you are dating Kaedehara Kazuha and you both decided to create a couple bucket list, without him knowing about your illness. CW: Angst - Mentions of terminal illness - Kazuhaxreader WC: 696 Header: https://ph.pinterest.com/pin/587930926370672569/ Authors Note: Short story for Kazuha! hope you guys like it! Please try to request some story ideas from different fandoms! i'd love to write for different characters! DO NOT REPOST/REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

“Promise me?” I looked at him with desperation, holding my pinky finger up to his face.

He chuckles a little, “Mhm, I promise!” he said as he intertwined our pinkies together. 

Me and Kazuha were sitting on a mountain top in Liyue, he looked so peaceful sitting there. His hair being softly blown away by the gentle breeze that the mountain carried, his eyes shining bright as the sun slowly set. 

I felt so fuzzy and warm at that moment, I wished that these moments could last just a bit longer. 

—

“Let's fill up this bucket list, shall we?” Kazuha asked me as we sat together on the bed of the room that we rented for the night. 

“We shall!” I smiled at him and he smiled back. 

“We should put picnic dates on the list, my love” he suggested. 

“Oh! That's a good idea, we should visit Fontaine too!” 

We both kept listing fun activities to our bucket list for couples, having a good laugh from time to time. 

“Do you think that's it, my love?” he asked as he kissed my forehead. 

“Nope, there's one last thing!” I looked at him grinning. 

“What is it?” he looked at me confused. 

I took the small notebook from him and started writing. I started to hide whatever I was writing in the notebook. 

“Now, guess.” I looked at him expectantly. 

“A baking date?” 

“I'm getting impatient,” I stared at the notebook. 

“But I only guessed one ti-” He was cut off by me showing the notebook to his face. 

As he was reading the bucket list, his face blushed as he saw the last activity. 

“Getting married.” 

—

That was a year ago and now, I was laying on a hospital bed. The doctor told me I didn't have much time left, he told me that I had a year left max. 

As the doctor talked to me about my illness, Kazuha burst through the doors of the room. 

“What do you mean a year?” he exclaimed. 

“Kazuha?” 

“What does he mean by a year?” He looked at me with worry and anger. 

“I'll leave you two alone,” the doctor in front of me said as he walked out of the room. 

—

That was the day Kazuha found out about my illness. 

Every day of my last year, he spent his time with me. As the last year of my life passed, Kazuha showered me with love and happiness and I couldn't be any happier.

“Kazuha-” I managed to mutter as I kept coughing. 

“Yeah?” he turned towards me with concern. “Do you want water?” he asked me. 

I nod and he rushes to give me water. 

“Can we finish the bucket list?” I asked him. 

“Honey, We should focus on getting you better.”

“Kazuha, it’s terminal.” I told him.

“Stop saying that, please?” 

“I just want to finish the list before I die,” 

“Stop it!” he told me sternly. 

—

A few days passed, ever since that encounter with Kazuha. With no doubt, I was also getting worse each day. 

Today happened to be my last. 

I was in Kazuha's arms, coughing rapidly as he tried carrying me out the house to run to the hospital. 

“Kazuha! It's no use and you know it! Please just let me spend the rest of my time peacefully.” 

He then sat down on the ground, with me in his arms. 

Kazuha started crying, tears streaming down his pale face. I reached my hands out to cup his cheeks. 

“Don't cry,” I told him. 

“I love you!” he said to me as he hugged me closer.

I felt content with my last moments, I was silently admiring Kazuha's face.  

“Can we finish something on the bucket list?” 

“Yeah yeah, what is it?” he looked at me smiling as tears ran down his face. 

“Let's get married? Please? You promised me we’d do everything on the bucket list.”

He started crying even more, “Yes, let's get married.” he choked on his words.

“Will you marry me?” 

“Yes,” 

He then kissed me one last time. A long and passionate kiss, filled with love before I felt myself slowly slipping away from the world.

[popculturebuffet]

Next up for Warner Bros Animation, favorite character from the 2002-08 half of the Kids WB shows with: Mucha Lucha, Ozzy & Drix, What's New Scooby Doo, Xiaolin Showdown, The Batman, Johnny Test (this oughta be interesting since it aired on three different networks with varying seasons of quality with seasons 1-3 premiering on Kids WB, seasons 4-6 being produced for Cartoon Network, and the revival seasons being produced for Netflix), Loonatics Unleashed, Tom & Jerry Tales, Shaggy & Scooby Doo Get a Clue, and Legion of Superheroes? I skipped Coconut Fred since everyone and their mother despises that show (one of the worst of all time).

Jesus Christ that's a lot. Also look given some past entires here, Coconut Fred is being kept on the grounds that it shoudn't be forgotten just for being horrible. like da boom crew which I thankfully haven't seen. So anyways..

Coconut Fred's Fruit Salad Island: I saw it at the time and it.. sure does exist. It's a half hearted spongebob ripoff. I'm talking about it because it did exist but don't have much else. Maybe I shoudl've left it out but i've let worse shows have an entry. This is just.. ntohing.

Mucha Lucha: IT'S A WAY OF LIFE! Senior Hasbena who just had a fun voice and a great early spotlight episode. The show itself is one I need to revisit but is awesome as hell, having a nice respect for luchadore culture while also being pretty nonsesically fun. While I would love a full on wrestling action series, this one was still good fun and needs ot be avaliable to stream in some fashion.

Ozzy and Drix: Drix if only because he was my faviorite in the movie. This series feels.. unecessary. It's not a bad idea but both frank's state at the start and Ozzie and Drix ending up elsewehere make it feel like the first film didn't matter and it feels weird to just.. not keep the setting. If they wanted kid plots, Frank has a daughter. That gripe aside the series was ... eh. Not terrible, but nothing really super special either.

Xiaolin Showdown: Jack Spicer. The boy, the myth the legend and Danny Cooksy's best role by a wide margin. A fun villian who was laughable enough to never get boring and stick around long after he'd been outclassed by newer big bads. Xiaolin Showdown is one of the best cartoons of this era, one of the best of this action show block and one of the best. I rewatched it in college and was amazed it held up so well. The show is genuine about our four heroes working, said four heroes while having familiar archetypes for the most part, are great characters who are a load of fun to watch and the format of the showdowns is engagin: while it does usually lead to some form of fight the contest format adds a nice wild card to it: our heroes can end up in a game where telling the truth is the only way out, a soccer match for OMi's soul, or a battle royale with all present. IT's a wonderful show I wish would get a proper revivial. And no Chronciles dosen't count, chronciles can go fuck itself.

The Batman: Another one to revisit and i'd say clayface as the twist of him being someone batman knew and trusted is utterly guttnig. I gave up on this one early for petty reasons depsite having most of the toys: I hated what they did with mr freeze and felt it couldn't compare to btas. Time has passed and with the later seasons adding some nice swerves i've accepted the show is it's own thing, trying to be a more action oriented shonen to forge it's own identity from the more moody btas. And it did apparently get better and better as it went and having seen a later episode or two casually , I can agree. Plus I admit to loving the touch of having batgirl join up before batman. Also the movie where he fights dracula is fucking dope and wel lworth your time.

Johnny Test: I'd say the twins for being usually hilaroius. As for the show.. it's eh. I used to hate it

But I now see it as an okay show that had some fun bits, and what I saw of the revival, as sadly short lived as it was, was better. It's still not AMAZING, but it wasn't the mindless garbage it got labeled as either. Nor a dexter's lab ripoff.. I do think they took some inspriation from it clearly, I mean look at the twins... but when you look at the cast none of them really match up to dexter's aside from the twins, whose crush on gil and age diffrenate them just enough. It's not an amazing show but it's hate was overblown.

Loonatics Unleahsed: Look the base concept of "The looney tunes as superhero: could be fun. I have a batman daffy and superman bugs on my desk as I type this. They did skits of the kind. The problem is lonatics wanted to be batman beyond with looney tunes and it never worked as a kid and dosen't work now.

Tom and Jerry Tales; I love tom and jerry but i've barely seen this.

Shaggy and Scooby Doo Get a Clue: The timing on this one as good as i've been watching through this on and off with @jess-the-vampire recently. I don't really have a faviorite. As for the show itself it's overhated like the last two entries and honestly.. it's okay. It's nothing amazing thus far, trying to be venture bros by having henchman 2 be an obvious ripoff of 21. Which wouldn't bother me if they did it right but instead he's just annoying. That being said it's still not a terrible series: the theme song is terrible but the show itself is solid, having intresting sometimes bonkers plot and shoudlnt' be vilified for breaking formula. It may not entirely work.. but I can respect TRYING something new an dhope go go mystery machine is a better version of this.

Legion of Super Heroes: Bouncing Boy: this series kept his goofy powers but also what works: someone who badly wanted to join the legion, never gave up and then threw in his reboot self's pilot skills and flsehd out his perosnality.

As for the show i'm a big legion of superheroes fan and this show is part of what brought me to the clubhouse. It's a slick show that nicely merges the two continuties it had to work with: the pre zero our one from the silver age and beyond and the reboot that helped ground things (The third reboot, yes three and there was a fourth long after, was just happening around this time so only star boy being black made the cut from there), while keeping the silver age namesan dastetic from before.

The result is a fun show that loves the legion dearly, has a great cast of characters and despite being made to have a teen superman show dosen't let clark overshadow everyone else: he's the lead.. but most of the main cast get a focus episode over the course of season 1. I"ll admit season 2 isn't quite as good as due to executive mandates the female cast is sidelined in places and imperix is a boring villian, while superman x, superman but EDGGGYYYYY just isn't that intresting. But season 2 isn't all bad with some standout episodes, the addition of chameleon boy and a truly chilling arc with brainy and an old friend I won't spoil for those who haven't seen the show. This series is a little seen gem that needs more love.

I realized as we worked on this I almost forgot something important, a series that begs for the spotlight so..

What's New Scooby Doo: We're comin after you, we're gonna solve that mystery. This is a hard one as the gang is reinvented well but i'd have to go with Fred, whose goofiness begins. After the great prequel that was pup named scooby doo and the success of the live action movie, What's New was a reinvention of the franchise in an odd way: it goes back to the gangs old actors , minus grey delise making her debut as daphne, and old style of writing thigns but updates it in a way that dosen't feel too dated now: sure the gang does extreme sports, but it's not to rocket power levels and fits for Daphne.

This series also cements fred and daphne's new roles going forward, roles that helped keep the character fresh despite the dozens of films and handful of series to come. Fred was dialed back from teh conpsiarcy theroist of pup, but instead became the bumbling tourist, a tad awkawrd in places and a tad over excited in others. It added nice layers to him besides solving mysteries and bullying his best friend and it left the door open for him to get reinvented a lot. Daph meanwhile, got a welcome reinvention that let her fit into the classic gang better: like her pup counterpart she often uses fashion, her wealth is more displayed (if not used as a fucntion) but her friendly nature and willingness to get into things (or easliy getting into activties she hated at first), all debuted here.

What's New is a fun series: shorter than you'd think, but having watched it about twice with jess , it holds up really well, combinging the usual formula with some fun hyjinks and creative setups. Sometimes it was bonkers, but it was a solid return to form that let the series experiment more with the next few, and deserves more credit for helping codify a lot of the modern franchise.

[suspicious-pools-of-blood]

The Night They Fled

This modern AU piece was inspired by "When You Hurt Me The Most" by Stream of Passion. It's a beautiful song, and, more importantly, the lyrics are whumpy as all hell. Go listen to it before you read this.

Taglist: @evilwriter-originals @literary-dandy

CW: whumpee getting their face cut up, stitches, mentions of beating and whipping

It was cold, the night they fled. The pain had become more than they could take. They knew they were not allowed to leave -- they themself had agreed to that, so long ago. Had they really known what they were getting themself into at the time? Perhaps. If they were being honest, they weren’t totally sure what they used to think. The past year all blended together into a blur of pain and passion and violence and sex and they didn’t know how much of it they were truly conscious for.

It had been a brutal past few days. Esir had been beaten badly enough that it still hurt to breathe, they had been belted until bruises the size of a grown man’s splayed hand formed on their back, they had been whipped bloody, and just for fun, she had also taken a knife to their face for the first time.

She had threatened to do so before, but that was all it was -- a threat. She would drag the tip of the blade along their jawline, maybe let it come to rest directly under their eye, if she really wanted them to sweat. But she had never really cut them there -- they were too pretty for that, she said; it would be a waste of a beautiful face, she said. Not this time. This time she had used her sharpest knife, the one she saved for special occasions, because of how easily it split open skin with even the lightest touch. They had kept their mouth shut when they screamed; they had tried not to move a muscle, in case they made it worse. The blade was so, so close to their eye, and was already cutting so much deeper than they had ever experienced there.

She gripped their jaw in her free hand to keep their head still where it was pressed against the hard wood beneath them. She straddled them on the floor, trapping their arms against their sides and pinning them down with her weight. They felt like they couldn’t breathe, though whether that was due to the rising panic in their chest or the better part of 200 pounds pressing down on them was uncertain. They could feel the skin of their cheek being split apart, could feel the intense sting of the air entering the open wound, could feel the warm liquid run down the side of their face and drip into their ear as the blood began to spill out.

It hurt. Of course it fucking hurt. But the pain induced a deeper fear in them, a fear that reoccurred every once in a while, the fear that she wasn’t in control. They knew she didn’t intend to kill them or injure them too badly or permanently, but sometimes they weren’t confident that she knew her own strength, or their own fragility. There were times that she pulled them into a stress position that, if she added any more pressure, would surely break something. Maybe a shoulder, maybe their spine. Other times she beat them badly enough that it occurred to them that she might just do irreparable damage to their internal organs. She had yet to actually do any of these things, but the fear was always there when she got that rough, especially if she wasn’t sober. And this time -- this time the fear was most certainly there. They could smell the whiskey on her breath as soon as she had gotten close to them and there was a look in her eyes that told them she needed them to hurt. And when they felt the cold steel of the flat of the blade press against their skin, they whined pitifully and tried to squirm away, but as soon as it turned to the sharp edge they froze completely still, every muscle tense and their breath held, even as tears blurred their vision, distorting the glint from the blade that lingered in the periphery.

Hours later, they sat on a stool at the kitchen counter and winced as Elvan disinfected the lacerations on their face, then applied something that, after a few minutes, reduced the sensation in the whole area. She opened up a suture kit and they looked away. They didn’t like needles, and they most certainly did not want to think about a sewing needle going through their face. When they saw movement approaching in their peripheral vision they squeezed their eyes shut and tried to stay quiet as they felt the needle pierce their skin and the thread be pulled through. The sensation was revolting. They were glad they weren’t feeling it in full.

After she was done stitching them up, they stood in the bathroom and stared at themself in the mirror. The entire left side of their face was covered in a series of parallel horizontal cuts, seven in total, evenly spaced from just below their eye down to their jawline, from just in front of their ear to the corner of their mouth. A dozen neat sutures ran in and out of the skin perpendicular to the cuts, top to bottom, with tiny knots at the ends. These cuts would surely scar. Every movement, no matter how small, of the muscles in their face hurt like hell, even blinking.

Somehow it felt different this time. They had witnessed the damage she inflicted on their body countless times before, but they could separate themself from that. For some reason, now that it was on their face, it was as if her influence had tainted the only part of themself that had still remained untouched, the part that held their identity. She had given them plenty of bruises on their face before -- they were no stranger to the sensation of a black eye -- but never something like this, never something that would last forever. Not there.

What were they doing? What were they doing here? Why were they giving themself so completely to her to destroy? They could be living their own life out there. They could be a normal person. Right? Maybe not. Maybe they wouldn’t be successful. But they sure as hell could try.

Once the decision was made, it was quite easy to execute it. They were not allowed to leave, but it is not as if Elvan did all that much to prevent it. They did not really have any belongings -- they had some clothes, but no shoes and no jacket, no phone or ID and certainly no money to their name. But if they were going to leave, they needed to do it before they changed their mind. Before these cuts scarred over and they forgot how they felt right now.

And that was how they found themself awake at 4 o’clock in the morning the following night. Elvan had sent them to the living room to sleep on the couch until they healed up a bit -- she did this every so often, when she knew she had gone too far with them; for a few days, she would leave them more or less alone, fulfilling her needs in the back of gay bars instead, like she used to do, before them. Tonight she had stumbled home intoxicated after fucking some baby butch senseless in a cramped, graffiti-covered bathroom stall, dropped her bag just inside the front door, and stripped down on her way to her room, leaving her clothes strewn across the living room floor before collapsing onto the bed to sleep off the past few hours.

They had already been asleep when she had come home, and the front door slamming shut had awoken them with a start. She had shooed them away before they could even offer to help her, so they retreated to a safe distance and watched to be sure she made it safely to bed. It did not take long for her breathing to become deep and steady, and once it seemed to have settled into that pattern, they silently padded over to her bedroom and eased the door closed, twisting the doorknob so it would close smoothly without an audible click. They turned back to the living room and picked up the clothes -- jeans, undershirt, t-shirt, socks -- like a trail of breadcrumbs between her room and the front door. They turned the clothes right side out and folded them to make a neat pile by her bedroom door, then went back to the entrance of the apartment. She had attempted to hang up her jacket on its hook by the door, but had mostly just thrown it in the general right direction where it fell to the floor unheeded. They picked the jacket up to return it to its place. It was a sturdy motorcycle jacket, made of thick leather; they hefted it from one hand to the other to feel the comforting weight of it, when they noticed something shift. There was something in the inside pocket. They fished it out and found themself holding her wallet. Made of smooth, worn leather, patinated from years of use and handling, it was itself of non-negligible weight. They looked back at Elvan’s closed bedroom door. They could hear her faintly snoring from the other side. They looked back at the wallet. They hung up the jacket that they were still holding onto, then, after another glance to the bedroom door and back to the wallet, they parted the opening of the wallet to look inside. Their heart raced as they thumbed through the series of bills, ordered by denomination, ranging from numerous twenties to a smaller -- though still considerable -- number of hundreds. They hesitated for a long moment, looking back again at the closed bedroom door. Their hand wandered up to the leather collar around their neck. They ran their fingertips along the stitching on the edges and the cold metal of the buckle and rivets. Then their hand went up further to lightly ghost over the grid of lacerations and stitches in their cheek. It almost hurt more now than it did initially last night. They pulled a single fifty dollar bill from the wallet, folded it up, and tucked it into the waistband of their briefs. They returned the wallet to the inside pocket of the jacket and, keeping an eye on the bedroom door and listening for any sound out of place, they took a deep breath and unbuckled their collar. There was no sense in trying to hide what they were doing; as soon as she got up in the morning and didn’t see them there, she would know what happened. So they placed the collar on the dining table, and taking one last look around the apartment that had been their home -- their prison -- they undid the locks on the door, turned the knob, and pulled it open for the first time in over a year.

And as they walked quickly down the street, the cool night air not yet warmed by the spring sun biting at their extremities, the faint pre-dawn light began to turn the sky from black to deep blue, and Calyx desperately hoped they had made the right decision.

[knifesxedge]

stuck in funpoison world rn and you are The funpoison guy to me so please.. any spare funpoison thoughts for the poor?? 🥺

WHEE i’m honored!! and YES i would love to talk about them ❤️❤️❤️

FIRST AND FOREMOST i’ve been rewatching the mandalorian so i’ve been thinking about the fab four mandos au again which means that i’ve been considering mando’a again which MEANS i’ve been thinking about funpoison + “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum” (“i love you” in mando’a, literal translation “i will know you forever”). AUGH AUGH AUGH AUGH AUGH AUGH. they are SOOOOOOO.

in unrelated thoughts, stream of consciousness style. they love each other SO much like before they’ve started dating kobra likes to make fun of poison because they will straight up just Stare at ghoul with this really big goofy smile just SO “anything you say, baby” but he also makes fun of ghoul because he’s always making excuses to touch them, to brush hair behind their ears and clean up their makeup for them and squeeze their hand. once they’ve started dating they’re SO shy with being affectionate around each other just because it’s so new but poison really loves being held and ghoul makes them feel safe so it’s not uncommon to see them curled up together on the couch with their hands wound together. and ghoul will blush and grin and roll his eyes whenever jet or kobra walk by but just sweep poison’s hair out of their face and tuck them a little closer.

ghoul likes to say they’re soulmates not because their love story lacked any hardship or was fairytale perfect from the beginning but because it WASN’T. and even though it wasn’t perfect, because life isn’t perfect, they kept running into each other. their lives kept meeting and intertwining for better or for worse. and ultimately what came of that was them both gaining an understanding of each other that blossomed into friendship that then slowly turned into being in love with each other. because they’d seen of the worst of each other right from the start and still ultimately said “you’re the one that i want”. for ghoul it means that the witch set their feet on a path towards each other, for poison, who doesn’t believe in the witch and barely believes in the idea of a higher power at all, it feels like maybe they could believe in destiny if nothing else.

oooohhh my god. i do not use tiktok so forgive me if i’m getting the source wrong but the one adventure time clip that’s like “you were a wonderful experience”/“you were everything”. in terms of personal flaws, poison is not necessarily always 100% healthily attached to their loved ones and i honestly think that ghoul’s death ends up being a kind of world-shattering life-altering event for them because he WAS everything. it’s like sometimes they don’t even know how to breathe without him. between the two, ghoul would have been better equipped to deal with poison’s death than poison was for ghoul’s not because he didn’t love them completely or because it wouldn’t have meant as much to him but because ghoul has been dealing with death of his loved ones from a very young age. it’s part of why he became so spiritual, because he let that belief that he would see his loved ones again, that they were safe and protected in their afterlife, be a comfort. poison doesn’t have that, and has never dealt with the death of someone so close to them before in a meaningful way. so it kind of breaks something in them. they don’t handle it very well in any sense.

on a less serious note i think ghoul loves to take poison dancing because it’s one of the only times that they’ll let their mask come off in public. they love to dance, they’re not fantastic at it, and unlike other times where they’ll feign disinterest in a skill if they know they aren’t good at it to save face publicly, if ghoul asks them to dance they’ll do it and they will honestly not focus on anyone else except for him. ghoul likes seeing them when they’re sweaty and breathless and happy and not caring if their makeup is running or if they look silly or how their clothes cling to their body. so a lot of date nights end up being “hey, there’s a band performing at this bar tonight” or “want to go to this party in zone two?” or “the roller rink is having a disco night on friday, want to go?” in fact, i’ve mentioned it before but their first official date is a couples’ night at the zones’ premier roller rink, Mega Moon’s, which used to be a lesbian bar before the wars and now is a locale for all sorts of folks but mostly LGBTQ-oriented :]

another thing i’ve mentioned before but ghoul loves to cook and party is not so great at it. HOWEVER, party DOES like to bake, though that’s not as feasible always in the zones. on the rare chance they get the opportunity though, they’ll get ghoul to help them — their excuse always being that they could use the extra hands but the real reason being so they can hang out together (and steal sugary kisses). i think their favorite thing to make is cookies but brownies are a close favorite just because those are GHOUL’S favorite & he’s written down his grandmother’s brownie recipe which is a hot commodity in the diner.

OH AND I HAVE TOUCHED ON THIS BEFORE but i don’t think i ever properly mentioned that they’re sun and moon coded. TO ME. more specifically day and night coded. i try to push that personal agenda with my writing when i can. when the day met the night……….

i think that’s all i have for you tonight. feel free to put a quarter in another time and see what i have to say then 👍

[trickster-jpeg]

Can’t You See That You’re Lost Without Me?

Summary: Snippet from the system's childhood. They were around seven years old when their mum left them on the side of the road one day. The whole thing must’ve only lasted with them chasing after the car for no longer than a few minutes, but it still stuck with them.

Warnings: I mean just major warning for child. The whole thing is triggered by them having a meltdown because they're overstimulated, so obviously Wendy's not gonna react with compassion or sympathy.

Word Count: 1123 It's On AO3 -> Here

They were around seven years old when their mum left them on the side of the road one day. The whole thing must’ve only lasted with them chasing after the car for no longer than a few minutes, but it still stuck with them.

They couldn’t remember the circumstances properly, the best that they could work out was that they’d been walking around shopping with their mum all day. From what they can remember, they didn’t think the day had even been that bad in all honesty. Their mum had even bought them a small stuffed teddy from a garden centre. A soft grey elephant that they’d fallen in love with upon sight.

They didn’t remember anything else until they were seated in the car, utterly exhausted as well as both hungry and thirsty. This combined with their legs aching after having done so much movement without break was really the perfect recipe for overstimulation and a meltdown. Neither of which was a fun experience to say the least. So when their mother said that they were going to stop off at and walk around another shop, the lump that had been growing in their throat suddenly swelled further.

Their sandpaper mouth and the hunger-pained knot in their stomach became apparent as they tried to soothe it by swallowing what little saliva they had in their mouth. A wave of frustration washed over them as they were suddenly aware of how drained they had become from the day’s events. Burning tears welled up in their eyes as they failed to verbalise their needs, not knowing how to formulate the words to tell their mother that they physically couldn’t will themself to use up anymore of the energy they didn’t have. Too exasperated to think properly, they kicked their feet out at the dashboard, their shoe colliding against it with a heavy clatter. In irritation, they violently shook their head in an attempt to convey what they were trying to tell her.

“NO!”

It was such a stupid thing to be pushed over the edge by, so ordinary. They knew now that they couldn’t help it, that meltdowns and overstimulation were just things they had to be careful of and at worst all they could do was try to minimise the damage. But at the time, they hadn’t known any better. Didn’t have the reassurance or the vocabulary to explain their behaviour. They had simply just been labelled a problem and told that they had to grow up. To learn how to act their age.

They couldn’t remember how it suddenly got worse. How it reached the point it did. All they knew was that it suddenly jumped to their mother pulling over on the side of the road and shouting at them to get out. They could remember the fear that coursed through them as they continued to kick the dash, desperately trying to get their words out to apologise and explain. But they couldn’t.

She reached over to harshly unbuckle their seatbelt. She angrily grabbed the handle and all but threw the door open, all while ordering them to get out of the car. Their breathing was heavy as the tears streamed from their eyes, their throat closing even tighter the more they made attempts at spitting their excuses out for her to hear. Not that she would’ve listened. She just kept shouting.

And then suddenly they were outside of the car. They couldn’t tell whether they’d voluntarily exited the vehicle with the terror of their mother’s fury acting as a catalyst, or whether she’d done something to push them out. All they knew is that the next moment in the sequence of events was that they were watching her reach over the now empty passenger seat and slam the door shut. All they knew was that they had been stood on the roadside as they watched in horror as the car began to speed away from them.

It took a moment for their brain to send the signals to their legs because they remember the shock as they tried to process what was happening at that moment in time. The disbelief as they stood on the patchy, dying grass and blinked the tears out of their eyes. Full body tremors rippling throughout their body like a beacon as the dirt kicked up on the road from where the car had been stationary not moments ago. Then they were clutching their new elephant friend in their hand desperate to not leave it behind and running after the vehicle as fast as their short legs could take them.

They know that they had screamed after her, begging for her to stop driving away from them. Breaths catching in their chest as they pushed themselves even further past the physical exertion they had been suffering as they wailed for her to come back. Their legs erupted with searing pain as their muscles consumed energy reserves they didn’t have. They howled with dread as they begged for her to stop and listen to their apologies. That they’d do whatever she wanted if only she’d let them back into the car.

They remember she stopped eventually. It must’ve felt longer in the moment as a child, because looking back on it she probably hadn’t driven that far away from them. She’d pulled up onto the side of the road again and as they sprinted to the door, they could still feel the way she’d stared at them as though she was looking into their very soul. Her piercing and uncaring gaze judging every fibre of them. They felt sick as they remembered the apologies that spilled from their lips like a tsunami. The trepidation as they felt the pressure to convince her to let them back into the car. To not leave them to find their way back home on their own.

Eventually, she muttered under her breath begrudgingly before reaching over and just barely popping the door open. They could still see the way they’d lunged to tug at the door, their body all but diving into the car seat as they thanked her for her patience. As they felt the relief at how ‘kind’ she had been letting them back into the vehicle and for putting up with their awful behaviour.

They didn’t remember anything else from that day. They didn’t try to. Why would they when they didn’t even want to know anymore about it? They just wanted to collect what they could to eventually try and bury it in the earth next to their mother and never visit the cemetery full of similar events that they had created. They didn’t bother marking its grave. It didn’t deserve the recognition of a headstone.

[lol-jackles]

Have you seen season 2 of Good Omens? Honestly and season 1 I would hardly call it a masterpiece or perfect. It was just fun, sweet and kind. And the biggest plus is the cast - Michael Sheen and David Tennant. They are both extremely talented and charismatic. And they are the ones who carry season 2. The rest of the characters, although not bad, but they don't catch on. And the biggest problem is the plot. When the story revolves around the main characters the series is interesting to watch, but when the focus shifts the feeling that the series sags. Also glad that for the first time in the series we got canon(?). Of course everything didn't end happily, but the tie-in for season 3 was necessary. And in a way, I'm personally happy with this finale. Otherwise everything would have looked too sugary and unnatural. So a certain drama is maintained and that's a plus. And of course it's funny to watch the anger and frustration of the hellers who still think they've been robbed of canon from a couple who were never originally involved in each other, much less interested. Unlike Aziraphale and Crowley. Though I'll be honest, I never thought or expected them to be a couple. It takes season 3 to become a couple though. And here's my main problem. With all things considered, is all of this enough to get a season 3? I think with everything I wrote above, the series may not be renewed and I would be truly sorry not to get the story of Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship. What are your thoughts and bets?

I enjoyed season 2, though I remember thinking while watching the first four episodes "are they ever going to get to the point?". I was getting impatient and kept thinking how so many of these tv streaming series are better off as 2-hour movies (Kenobi, third season of The Mandalorian, etc).

And then it finally got to the point, it was about love.

The love between Gabriel and Beelzebub reminded me a bit of the love between Sam and Dean: selfish and honest. Gab and Beel only care about themselves and each other, they didn’t want to deal with Apocalypse2.0 and they didn’t want to protect the humans or earth. And yet Gabe and Beel showed that love could be easy if you're honest, so it was easy for them to give up everything for each other.

Aziraphale is not selfish, he is willing to give up everything he loves - his bookshop, his food, even Crowley - just to save the earth. He also wants to make heaven into the good place it should’ve have been, and he thought giving Crowley back his angel status is what he deserves, because Azi have seen over and over again the good Crowley has done and that he's actually good. But Azi doesn't understand that isn't what Crowley wants, who makes it worse by not doing a good job communicating this to Azi. Granted, they both were not truly listening to what the other is saying because they already made up their mind before the conversation started. Crowley believes Azi choosing heaven over him while Azi believes Crowley, by rejecting heaven, is also rejecting him. Despite what Azi believes, he still "forgives" Crowley.

Those two have a lot to unpack, which is all a set up for season 3. With that said, the "sad" "bittersweet" ending kind of saved the whole season for me because otherwise, as you said, it would have been too saccrhine and unnatural-ish and why I was getting impatient for the show to get to their point.

I agree the characters other than Azi and Crowley were ....just there. I was glad that Nina and Maggie didn't end up together just yet since Nina is on a rebound. Crowley thinking all it takes for human to fall in love was getting them wet and looking into each other eyes is never going to be not funny. Crowley, are you sure you didn't know Jane Austen was an author and not just a master spy?

Will Good Omen get a season 3? I read it was the #1 comedy on Amazon so the odds are in their favor. Unlike season 2 which didn't really have a story arc, they set up season 3 to be a callback to season 1's Apocalypse storyline with the Second Coming, so a foundation is already established.

[ravenwolfie97]

okay i have to talk about this because it's been really bothering me lately and i need to say something before i explode

so lately i've been noticing on many videos, shortform or otherwise, that they include subtitles! awesome! super helpful and cool

but idk if it's always been a problem and i'm only noticing it now, or if it's gotten particularly bad lately, but... recently a lot of those subtitles are really really bad

slight tangential anecdote: i used to do some freelance captioning work in between real job hunting, and it was a good experience. i was already interested in doing it, obviously, but i was coached on proper captioning etiquette and guidelines to make it look as nice and readable as possible while also transcribing the audio as best as i could before my superiors would touch it up. so i do know a thing or two about proper subtitling, but even if you didn't you would Know that there are some serious problems right now

i'll give a few non-specific examples (bc i'm too lazy to hunt them down to show you). there is a pretty popular (i think) youtube shorts personality who mostly does reaction-based videos, like i think it's actually mostly tiktok stitches reuploaded to yt shorts. but anyway this person, along with most other tiktok people who have subtitles for their lil internet rambles, are probably only basing off of their voice, like there's some kind of auto-caption that gets most of the words right, save for a couple small ones. i can understand that especially for the reaction/vlog crowd who are just trying to pump out videos, but like. i also follow john and hank green. they also reupload their tiktok stitches to yt shorts and have subtitles. and guess what? they're flawless. immaculate. you Can change them. or maybe they just talk better idk my point still stands that there is issue here stemming from having the computer do it with minimal to no touch-up. which leads me to my next example

one of the first nails in the coffin recently was this one pokemon youtube shorts guy i kept getting where he'd look into old game saves. all of the videos are subtitled, but similar to the tiktoks, it appears to be transcribing the voice on its own. what's worse and the most important here is that - remember - this is a series of pokemon videos. saying a pokemon name and expecting an AI to understand what that is out the gate is insane. and it doesn't. any time a pokemon's name is said, it just spews out words that are vaguely similar-sounding standard english words. and it's never the same each time too, which is fun. this is where taking the time to edit or even give a smidge of a damn to the craft of your video really would mean a lot, because for as many as i've seen it turns me even more off every time i see those shitty subtitles. but unfortunately that's not the worst i've seen in the last few days

the one that hurt me so much i physically could not stand it, to the point that i left a Comment on how bad it was, was an edit of a streamer's twitch VOD. normally, this streamer uploads snippets of their streams to yt shorts and has really good and well-edited captions there! i usually have nothing to complain about from this guy. but this one particular video... i don't know if it's because it's an older VOD and someone's just been holding on to it for months, or if it was a huge rush job, or What. but this video had literally the worst captions i had ever seen. they were just slapped down in chunks, not even lining up with the people who were talking, a negligible amount of punctuation, literally the barest minimum of effort. but that's not all! let's not forget that this is an edited clipshow, and there are Effects and Transitions for not only the video itself but the text as well! so SOME amount of effort was put into this because it got actually edited into a decent-sized video instead of just being a small clip. it's literally makes me sick i am so unhappy about it

main point, TL;DR, moral of the story: for the love of all that is holy, please remember that captioning is literally an accessibility feature. some people cannot hear or are unable to listen to videos sometimes, and i can't imagine what a hearing-impaired person who relies on subtitles to engage with videos would think watching either of my last two examples. what makes it worse, too, is that i can't even tell these people to hire someone to do it for them, because oftentimes they DO have people to do that work for them. and they still fuck it up. and then they continue on, to churn out more content. ugh just take a moment to remember that captions are not just for engagement. they're a tool, and some people can use only those as their guide through your video. don't make it impossible to parse. the purpose of them is to be read and understood. and you can't do that if the sentences are in overlapping chunks or if your words are too non-standard to be translated by a computer

[crying-over-cartoons]

Ben's First Kiss (With the Ground)

Sliding downhill on an ice block is a great way to go sledding in summer- that is, until Ben loses his grip, and maybe a few teeth.

(Canon-divergent of s4e6 of the 2005 show)

(CW: blood & injury, doctors, dentists, hospitals, surgery)

this fic is based off a true story, from when i was about twelve. i was sledding in actual snow, though. i still have scarring on my gums!

(also, i only just started watching Alien Force. no spoilers, please!)

Also on AO3

XLR8 shrieked with laughter as he flew down the hill, the wind whipping past. Who needs snow to go sledding? He thought. A block of ice works just as well!

He whooped as he crested the lower hill, his momentum carrying him into the air. "This is AWESOME!" he yelled.

But his fun was cut short by the sound of the watch deactivating. Within seconds, he went from speed-demon XLR8 to regular human Ben.

And without XLR8's claws, he lost his grip on the ice block. He cried out as he tumbled through the air, on a collision course with the ground.

"Ben!" Grandpa called. But he was too far away to do anything.

Ben's eyes snapped shut, and he hit the ground face-first.

-=-

When Ben opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a small rock laying in the grass. Man, good thing I didn't hit that, he thought.

Then he saw the blood.

Then the pain hit.

He screamed as his entire face was engulfed in flame. Hot blood pooled in his mouth and dribbled onto the grass, and he gagged at the taste.

He stumbled to his feet, trying to find Grandpa- there were suddenly a lot of people here. He could barely see through the tears streaming down his face, and he ran through the crowd until he spotted a familiar Hawaiian shirt.

"G'wa'pa!" he cried, running towards him. Grandpa caught his shoulders before he could run into him and knelt in front of him. "Ben, what's wrong? What's hurt?"

Sobbing, Ben opened his mouth, pointing at it. Grandpa tried to move his upper lip, but stopped when Ben cried out and shoved his arm away. "C'mon Ben, let's get you in the Rustbucket." He kept an arm around Ben's shoulder as they walked. Ben hid his face in Grandpa's shirt, unable to stop crying. "You're gonna be okay, Ben, I promise."

But the words weren't doing much to make him feel better. Sharp pain lanced through his gums with every beat of his heart, and he was drooling blood all over Grandpa's shirt. And, Gwen had seen the whole thing. Both him wiping out and then crying like a baby over it.

Now his face was burning with both pain and embarrassment.

Once they were inside the Rustbucket, Grandpa pulled Ben towards the sink and took a cup from the cupboard. He filled it with water and handed it to Ben. "Here, rinse your mouth out. I don't want you swallowing any blood."

With shaking hands, Ben attempted to do as he was told, but the cool water made the pain flare, and he ended up coughing water and blood all over the inside of the sink. He went light-headed at the sight.

He was breathing too fast. His chest was starting to hurt. But he couldn't slow down.

Grandpa took the cup from his hand and put it on the counter. He knelt down again and pulled Ben into a hug. "You're okay, Ben. Deep breaths, you'll be fine. Deep breaths."

Deep breaths. I can do that, Ben thought. He began to calm down, raising his arms to return the hug.

Once Ben was in control of his breathing again, Grandpa stood and fetched an ice pack from the freezer. He wrapped it in an old dish towel, and handed it to Ben, who pressed it gingerly against his face. "This should help with the pain. Now you go ahead and sit down, I'm gonna drive us to the hospital."

Ben sat at the table, watching Grandpa walk to the driver's seat with wide eyes. Hospital?

He'd gotten hurt a lot over the course of the summer so far. So had Gwen. But never anything worse than a bad bruise, or a few scrapes.

Grandpa had been hospitalized, once- and he'd turned out okay. But Ben couldn't remember the last time he'd been to a doctor for anything other than a checkup.

He must be really hurt.

Gwen sat down in the seat opposite him, and pulled out her laptop. Ben hid his face in his knees- he was starting to panic again, and Grandpa was too busy driving to calm him down this time. His body trembled with sobs as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

"Hey Ben, check this out."

Ben looked over his knees to see that Gwen had turned her computer around to face him, playing a video showcasing a snake enclosure, complete with a six-foot-long boa constrictor. He watched the owner feed the snake a giant frozen-thawed rat, before glancing at Gwen.

Ben had loved snakes (and pretty much all reptiles) his entire life. He thought the way they ate was super cool, but he knew Gwen thought it was a little gross. She didn't like seeing the dead mice and rats, which was why he made a point to try and show her pictures or videos of snakes eating every time he found a new one. When they were six years old, he'd caught a wild garter snake and shoved it in Gwen's face, just to hear her scream. She'd chased him around the entire park threatening to pull his hair out.

And now, four years later, she was willingly visiting a snake blog for him because she knew they were his favourite animal. She wanted to make him feel better.

And it was working- he couldn't seem to stop crying, but even as his gums throbbed and the ice pack became stained with blood, he felt less panicked, and his sobs calmed to tears and sniffles.

They arrived at the hospital only a few minutes later. Grandpa held his hand as the three of them walked in.

He spent most of the visit clinging to Grandpa's shirt, in too much pain to even speak. Gwen was there too, and Ben knew it was just because Grandpa didn't want to leave her alone in the Rustbucket right now, but he was silently grateful anyway.

The doctor looked inside his mouth and asked a few questions. Gwen answered any that Ben couldn't answer by pointing, and the doctor told Grandpa that he most likely needed dental surgery. They couldn't perform the procedure at the general hospital, but there was a dentist's office nearby that could. He gave them the address, and wished them luck.

The trip to the dentist's office was even worse than the trip to the doctor. The adrenaline had long since faded, leaving Ben to bear the full force of the pain. Not to mention, it was getting late, and Ben was exhausted. Not even fun facts about green anacondas and American alligators could make him feel better, but he couldn't fault Gwen for trying.

When they arrived at the dentist's office, it was dark out. The streetlights blocked any stars from view, leaving the sky looking like a black sheet.

Gwen had to wait in the lobby this time, while Grandpa followed Ben and the dentist to a room with a giant x-ray machine. Somehow, Grandpa managed to sweet-talk the dentist into ignoring the unremovable metal watch, and she only had Ben take off his belt before he laid down on the table. She gave Grandpa copies of the images, who told Ben he wouldn't get to see them until he was feeling better, which Ben thought was very unfair.

After taking the x-rays, the dentist brought them to the operating room. She had Ben sit down in the dental chair, and explained what she was going to do- though most of it flew over Ben's head.

He wouldn't normally describe himself as afraid of doctors or dentists- but a check-up or getting your teeth cleaned was way different from getting surgery. The darkness of the windows and the shine of fluorescent lights on pointy metal objects did little to settle Ben's nerves.

He was less than thrilled to discover they'd be putting braces on him- though he was happy to get to choose the colour of the bands. He picked a bright green that matched the watch.

He held Grandpa's hand tightly as the big chair leaned backwards. A mask was placed gently over his face, and he fell asleep.

-=-

After the surgery, he woke up, feeling hazy, but free of pain. Grandpa was carrying him, and he could see Gwen walking alongside. Grandpa had changed his shirt at some point- it looked exactly the same, but without the bloodstains.

When they got inside the Rustbucket, Grandpa set him down at the table, leaning him against the wall so he wouldn't fall over.

"Good news, you get to keep all your teeth!" Grandpa said. "And to make sure it stays that way, the dentist said soft foods only for a few weeks, so I'm gonna make us some soup for dinner."

If Ben was a little more awake, he would probably have been overjoyed to be eating normal food. As it was, he couldn't even really taste the soup through whatever numbing medication he'd been given, but he could tell it was warm, and that was good enough for him.

After dinner, he climbed into bed, and fell asleep near instantly.

-=-

Of course, having to spend the next few weeks living off of soup and baby food was utterly miserable. At the very least, the x-rays were just as cool as he'd hoped.

And somehow, Gwen's new nickname of "Braceface" didn't upset him nearly as much as it once would have.

----------

i've decided that it's my life's work to make Ben comprehend mortality. today, i do that by putting him through the worst experience of my life.

[keefwho]

November 20 - 2023 Monday

10:47pm

Today also kinda sucked. I woke up still in a poor mood from last night. Took a shower, chatted a little. I made a sausage cheeseburger with rice and a pear cup for breakfast. It had onions on it this time because I had half an onion in the fridge. I really didn't feel like streaming but I knew I should and if I didn't, I would only be in a worse place. I warmed up with a certain pic instead of sketching. I worked for 1 hour on the group commission and the other hour finishing a YCH. Interesting Mia and He Man episodes. I got some much needed reassurance mid stream that perked me up a bit. After stream as much as I didn't want to, I did my workout. I watched Vanoss videos while doing it since I couldn't find any other content. I finished with enough time to shower and maybe clean just a little but instead I sucked myself off which I regret. I mean it was fun but again I was only using it as a means to escape my feelings for a little bit, I didn't actually feel like doing it. And it made me very late to lunch so I microwaved a can of spaghettios and had some doritos. As usual I let my laziness get the better of me and took longer than I should have to start working on the request. My friend messaged and actually wanted to work on the world in the middle of it so I finished up quickly and we went over what he wanted. I basically had the whole picture already but I wasn't sure so that clarification was important. Maybe tomorrow we'll be going into sculptr to sketch it out. When we were done I successfully drew for another hour even though it went way past my cutoff time. I took a little time to get my new Skyrim modlist up and running with the configuration I wanted and make my Abraham Lincoln character. Daisy called halfway through and I made him while she played Zelda. Then I switched to Zelda for a bit and maxed out the levels on the Tunic of the Wild set. I made chicken fries and ramen noodles for dinner which kept making me go AFK. I always feel annoying when I do that. In bed I played Neopets for her. When she fell asleep I watched some Twitch and took care of myself again. Maybe I shouldnt be writing about every time I do that but it is important to my functioning and in this case psychological important. Because again I only did it so I could get away and feel something. And in this case I only made myself feel worse because of the position I was imagining myself in. I was self degrading in a way that made me feel bad instead of a way to express those kinds of feelings in a healthier way. I regret it.

[op-sys-chaos]

Dick, who’s been in Bludhaven and missed the Batman murder spree: “I miss Bruce so much. He’d do so much better than I could while being Batman.”

Tim, fully aware Bruce is lost in the time stream: “Well damn, if you want him back that bad go and get him.”

Dick: “???”

Tim: “But if you want to do the dirty work required to pull Bruce out of the time stream, then he’s your problem now. I’m not playing the role of leash again because you decided to make him my problem. You get to stop the murder spree.”

Dick: “…Tim, did you hit your head? Bruce doesn’t kill.”

Tim and Jason: *exchange a look, then break down laughing*

Jason: “Hate to burst your bubble, Dick, but Tim was the only thing stopping the murder spree from being worse. You get to deal with the old man if you want him back so bad.”

Damian: “Wait, if father can kill people why can’t I?”

Tim, who actually has a decent relationship with Damian in this timeline because he was chill with handing Robin to Damian the second he said it was his and Damian was too surprised to try to kill him: “Dami, listen. Murder is wrong because it’s permanent. We’re not refraining from murder because ‘dad said so’ or anything. We don’t murder because being judge, jury, and executioner is too much power and you start to go insane from it. You start killing everyone for petty offenses. You start killing those who don’t deserve it. So we don’t kill because we don’t want to go down that dark path. Just look at Bruce. He thought he’d only kill the Joker (who honestly deserved it for the millions of people he’s killed), but he couldn’t stop there. Now, I have to stop him from killing every mugger he finds, most of whom are doing it for survival because it’s the only way they can get the money they need to get food to live. That’s not a crime worthy of a death sentence, is it?”

Damian: “No, I suppose not.”

Dick, still trying to process everything: “Bruce is alive?? Bruce kills people??????”

Tim: “I mean, not when I’m around to stop him. But I’m not doing that job again. So either he stays lost in time or you go get him and be his leash yourself.”

Jason: “Have fun with your moral dilemma, Dick. Man, am I glad I don’t count as a hero so I don’t have to deal with shit like that anymore.”

This was gonna be shorter but I just kept going lol

I feel like there is a missed opportunity between Bruce killing the Joker leading to Batman going mad and Tim basically being in charge as Robin.

Here’s my idea, Batman is the usual version of violent after Jason’s death but the next time the Joker gets out no one can stop Batman from killing him. Just like he always said Batman no longer holds back. Before he truly goes too far or caught Tim steps in as Robin and takes charge holding back his violent outburst, unlike other time Bruce doesn’t really get better just being told how to act.

When Jason eventually comes back as Red Hood he doesn’t know any of this and still thinks the Joker is alive. Things proceed the same till the tower incident or events like it where Tim gets hurt and can’t go out.

Everyone in Gotham knows that when Robin isn’t out with Batman you don’t go out because there is a high chance he won’t hold back.

Everyone but Jason

I imagine he finds out from the goons while trying to give out orders. They refuse to and when asked why they reply with something about how Batman is out solo and how since he killed the Joker is Robin isn’t there someone usually ends up dead or close to it.

Any suggestions for tags welcome.

[mishimaontheflipside]

'I Like You': A Night Drive Drabble

Jean Kirstein x reader modern au

Driving home late in the night after a fun day at the beach, Jean and reader are left to explore they're budding feelings for one another as their friends sleep soundly.

Shameless fluff, sickly sweet and smut-free. My first fic posted to tumblr... enjoy! ❤

3k words

........

“Why don’t you get some sleep? We have a long way to go.” Jeans eyes darted to the rear view mirror, the rhythmic pulses of streetlamps illuminating their friends in the back seat, spent from a long day of pure infantile fun. Marco reclined, neck bent at an uncomfortable ninety degree angle, weighted down by the dribbling heads of Sasha and Connie on either side. Sand peppered the upholstery and their shins, the scent of the ocean ingrained in the skin, the refreshing breeze entwined in their hair.

Jeans mouth twitched. He returned his gaze to the road. The hue of the yellow lights, she thought, stained the world once familiar in sepia of potential nostalgic suspension. Looking at Jean, the way the warmth of its glow unsettling, unrestrained, yet a blanket cocooning this moment for her, it became a memory to be frightened of. Ahead of them, the car lights guided them forward, refusing the nights to give up its secrets. This night was to be too short once again.

Usually she avoided looking at Jean. If he caught her staring she was fearful he would find out. That when he spoke, when he smiled, when he moved, he was being, that all of these things she was so deeply enraptured by.

In the passenger seat beside him, she did not question how she had found herself so fortunate to be there. She kept her distance as much as she craved his closeness - wanting yet content with his existence.

“I’m all right.” She replied at last, suppressing a sigh of deepest contentment.She was wide awake, even with the cheap beer in her belly, shared as the sun retreated on the horizon, immersing itself in the depths of the ocean, with the dozing trio behind. Either she was fighting off this weariness or she had been left buzzing at the current state of affairs.

Glancing at Jean, his eyes now focused on the road, checking mirrors, moving lanes shifting gears; the ritual that was more than second nature to a guy like him, the certainty was soothing. She could watch his motions all day; his long arms framed him in an impenetrable barrier, when he gripped the steering wheel, the leather groaning beneath his flexing fingers.

One part of her wanted to convince her that once she nodded off he could enjoy the alone time, that he was secretly craving for her absence, even though sleep, that he could think of nothing worse than being left in an exchange with her on what should have been a wonderful day. Yet she wanted to be with him, if only for a little while. She was there. As their friendsslept she was with him. There was no way he could know what that meant.

The sun had penetrated their skin and warmed them through. Now it had set the chill of the night drove the memories’ of the beach further away with its tender grip. Although now, the swaddling of evening time cradled them in the day and all its moments, just as the sun would rise, so would much of the time vanish with it, never lost, simply swallowed into the pulse of the earth, engorged with man’s joys and sorrows.

Her skin had rouged with the hints of burn, yet still she shivered. Pulling her zip up closer around her, her sun dress too thin as remnants of the days rays seeped from each pore. Shins bare, she began to feel the prickle to goose pimples.

Jean fiddled with dials on the dashboard. A gentle stream of warm air tumbled out of the system, angled at her feet, ever so gradually teasing up her legs.

“Is that better?”

She nodded, this time to mask the trembling in her core, the kind that awoke every time he spoke to her.

It was a kind of drunken feeling, being beside Jean; side by side with a boy like him, the giddiness of a strong alcohol in her system, euphoria unmatched. It all felt undeservedly pleasant. Like she was being embraced from all sides, her heart quelled by longing and want, met in some unfamiliar haziness, she felt as though she could imagine what she wanted and it would manifest in her yearning. That she could believe that it was just Jean and she. That for a moment he watched her there, which in the seconds between those moments, in the quiet recess of his mind he thought of her. That not just fate but sheer will had allowed her to be beside him there, because that was how it was supposed to be for them. Divine intervention was redundant. She felt cocooned in a love all of her own fabrication. In those conditions, she could manipulate her own memories.

Better not to know, she thought for the thousandth time. Better not to sour the pocketful of memories she had savored of him, and them. All worth remembering but easily forgotten.

“You know,” Jeans voice was low, gentle; in doing so a rumble so deep in his chest followed, felt in her own like the rumblings of a storm too distant to see, “I don’t think I’ve seen you have so much fun as you did today.”

She didn’t respond.

Nervously, he pushed on, “That’s not to say I think you aren’t fun – of course I do – I just mean that you seemed more relaxed than usual. When Connie threw you into the sea but somehow fell. And you were still standing…”

Connie had held his breath afterwards; let himself float beneath the current. He was such an idiot. In a panic, Jean had tried to flip him over only to be spat at with seawater, a surprise chewed out gum ball and a puzzled cry from Connie.

She had to break up the fight between them. Marco returned from the food stall with ice creams dribbling down his hands, his yells fruitless in results. Sasha filmed it all. And licked the melting snacks when she could.

Jean was still filling the silence, yet she found her own drowned in thought. One he could never comprehend. How could she tell him that her silence was a persecution? A vanishing act of sorts? For when he said what he’d said, it offered affirmation; I see you. What more it could offer was that he liked to see her. She had fun, yes, because he was there, because they all had been together and forgotten everything about the lives they lead outside of those precious hours. They had all proven to one another that one could keep on living each day like that, with the little woes, the bigger sorrows, and still get lost in contentment.

When Jean saw her, what did he see?

“I didn’t want it to end,” She whispered.

Jean shifted gears as they approached a junction. The roads were bare, as though her very words had led the few people aroused by the night to flee in sanctuary.

She found herself sinking into her seat as she continued, “That alone made it sweet, that I didn’t want it to. That it would end made every minute pass with some meaning. Sometimes it felt like I could capture the seconds, hold them in my hand, like sand but softer. Do you know what I mean?”

Back onto the faster roads now, Jean increased speed, smooth as a professional. He rubbed thoughtfully at the fine skin below his eyebrow for moment, “I think I do.”

Sandalwood and patchouli: that was the scent that clung to Jeans clothes, that now as the built-in heaters disturbed the air inside the car, she got to breathe in with such heady clarity.

That scent of him. On the way, that morning, she had been seated in the back, behind him in his drivers spot.

Sasha had complained about carsickness but disproved her claims as she jammed a doughnut into her mouth. Outraged Connie who was squeezed between them both and Marco from the challenging passenger’s seat, battled it out to recover the rest of the snacks. Jeans voice rose in complaints, at first at food spillages, then, through stifled, maniacal laughs, at shoes all over the upholstery and finally, with the authority of a patriarch, threatened to turn the car around when Marco almost kicked him in the face.

All the while, she had laughed, attempting the occasional micro-management here and there mostly she let it all play out. Watching Jean, he had remained so predictably thoughtful throughout.

She had seen the fine hairs that merged with the darker ones at the nape of his neck, clipped but longer. Brushed off his face, it was too long to leave but too short to tie back. It tucked behind his ears and kinked at the back, she searched for the end of the hairs upon his body but she found none as the finest of hairs mingled. Gold seemingly woven in each thread.

Sasha had eaten all of the food. There was never any to begin with. Connie complained until he had forgotten why he had begun and instead turned his attention to the radio. Plugging his music in, he and Marco took turns blaring whatever song they knew half the words to. Jean sang along to the ones he knew, snapping at Marco when he switched to something no one knew at all half-way though a jam.

The rest of the trip, she stared out of the window.

In the compact space the car smelt intoxicating with the blends of aftershave the boys had showered themselves with. Primped and preened rather foolishly for the day at the beach, they outdid both she and Sasha. The car smelt irresistible, a taster station of perfumes. Yet, one she could not place, had never been able to in all the times she had found herself drawnto it. She knew it was the scent of Jean, how could she not? An allure and a repellent, it had always caught her attention. Now she understood its gentle notes, earthy and musky, an incense of calm.

“You smell nice.” She said. The words didn’t tumble out. Although the correlation of thought and voice had been non-existent, had not seemed conceivable, the truth of the words had eradicated any sense of danger in them. Perhaps it was the booze, but the sincerity behind the words meant more. A panic did not rise. Her mind had been expelled.

“Thanks,” Jean said, after another long moment of nothing but the fans of the air-con panted and the whir of tires speeding along the smooth roads, the gentle snores of their friends. She glanced at Jean. He gave so little away, those eyes now darted between the road and the rearview mirror. His jaw was tense, gently gnawing his lower lip. There were tendonsin his thick neck, which flexed as he moved, knotted with the shoulders that had squared with the sharp intake of breath.

She looked away. Now, she began to suspect, a caution seeped insidiously into the space between them. Yet, she could not doubt her words, when doubt was all but breaking down her resolve.

“So do you.” Jeans voice was still a soothing rumble, perhaps less certain than it was. The leather of the steering wheel creaked once again and a shaky intake of breath followed. When he swallowed, his Adams apple bobbed, floundering foolishly, she thought. She liked that too. Liked that it was her words that made that happen. The stubble peppered his chin, and freckles had crept upon his cheeks, encouraged by the sun.

“I like-”she began. His high cheekbone, his deep set narrow eyes often sullen looking in moments of peace, apprehensive in moments of confusion as he was now; it distracted her for a second. “I like your hair. You should never cut it or ever let it grow. It’s just right.”

His lips, though thin, were a shade of peaches that seemed almost obscene. As his teeth grazed delicate skin there, they darkened, even in the low light.

“If you ever shave your head,” his words stumbled, a smile pawed at his resolve and she understood that he was controlling his amusement, “I would consider it a national tragedy.”

She snorted then, an ugly hiccup of a noise.

Jean shushed her, gesturing to the back seat before suppressing his own.

“I like that when you drive we don’t die.” She said.

“I like that when you don’t drive we don’t die.” He said.

“You have a voice that, if I knew otherwise, would tease a potential career on the west end.”

“What does that even mean?” His words were stifled when he pressed a hand to his mouth.

With each attempt at volume moderating, their giggles grew keener until they were improvising gags; hers was the cuff of her jumper.

“When you buy alcohol, you always remind me of an adult, in a good way. You just go and you do it.”

“That’s because none of you guys remember to bring I.D’s. Marco looks way older than me.”

He pondered then, “I like… that when you try to tell a joke, the fact that you’re laughing already makes the joke funny.”

She beamed stupidly. There had never been a time where she could get a punch line out, despite the number of times she had heard the one she wanted to tell, the joke would send her rolling before she could finish it for anyone else. “They’re not funny otherwise?”

Jean shrugged, “Don’t pursue stand-up is all I’m saying.”

“That was what I was going to tell you next!” She bemoaned, as muted as she could manage, amateur dramatics in play as she clutched her head.

His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, shaking his head.

With a deep breath, she said, “Your face always makes me feel like… the sun will come up tomorrow.”

The giggling stopped.

She sat up firmer, felt the sleep, the haze escaped her and more so to herself, she murmured,

“And the day after that, and the day after that.”

In this silence, in this world, that was shifting ever so slightly, the dozing trio in the back could not feel the shudders in the earth. The air had grown sparse; all had been suspended in this disjointed night drive. Still far from home, but too close, suddenly as much as all had stopped, time was ticking and soon there would be nothing else.

Where time before had become solid, cherishable, now it was harsh. Gripping her fingers to make the minutes grate on through the timer, she listened for the first hard granules to strike the surface below.

The future lay out before her. She had been waiting for it. That eerie sense of calm had abandoned her and now, in the hidden darkness, beyond the beams of the headlights, in those shadows the future of lost connections, of rejections, of reality on the horizon. The sun would rise tomorrow, would the boy she liked so much be there to bring it?

He wouldn’t look her way, his responsible driving all that proved that he was still there. Not even his fingers twitched and she simply had to look away then. To stare at the road paved ahead, to hope that future she was certain lingered ahead would not rear its ugly head.

“That you were happy today… that made me very happy.” Jean said.

He was beside her. The heat of his body, the sort so detached from any other; the kind of warmth that sent sparks across the skin lingered beside her, that helped her know that he was there and not in her mind. Whenever he had shifted gears, had moved an inch, she could see the space parting to let him through.

It was parting again, as his hand stretched out towards her and prized apart her fingers. They had tangled themselves so well, an attempt to never escape the perpetual loneliness she had become accustomed to. The world, and all its matter, was dividing for them.

When he laced his fingers with hers, when his breath hitched as she held on tight when she knew it was okay, when he simply clung to her too, she felt a collision of something microscopic, and a chasm was filled with the debris of this matter, light with the moon, the stars, the comets and the sun. Reeling, pulsing, living, breathing, peaceful, alive with atoms; they’d connected the dots.

“I’m happy right now.” She sighed, feeling sleepiness weighing her down. A weight was lifted and replaced by a soul-shifting calm.

“So am I.” Jean smiled.

"At freaking last," came a scoff from the back seat. She was ready to fling his hand from her but Jean clung harder.

"Yo, privacy!" Jean hissed as Marco snorted at the little outbreak.

"Not really the place for that, is it?"

Peeking over her shoulder, she saw a coy smile plastered across Marco's face, even as he attempted to loosen up his neck, the dead weights of Connie and Sasha completely undisturbed, his shirt sodden with their drool. He grimaced.

Jean shook his head, pulling her hand closer to his chest, defensively, mumbling about his friend being such a peeper. Marco just grinned at her, rolled his eyes before shifting his phone out of his pocket, a real challenge where Connie had wrapped himself around his lanky body, and swiping through it. It was amazing how he hadn't gone numb. With a squeak, Sasha hiccuped in her sleep.

She squeezed Jeans hand back. He bit back his own glee as he continued to run on about Marco's interruption.

The night would end; even as she began to doze and it came to feel like a dream, Jean was the one to gently shake her awake, caress her cheek with his thumb and smile at her in a new way. One that told her it was real after all.

They would say their goodbyes and forget the days as much as they would remember all the little things. Maybe all would be revealed in the days that followed; maybe patience made space for something gentle and kind to grow anew. For her, the sun did indeed rise the next day…

........

Thanks for reading!