#while not infrequently having takes that make me want to fight them

[fictionadventurer]

It's important to my internal ecosystem that I watch/read/listen to some media in order to fight with it. Engage with the ideas and figure out in detail just where and how they're wrong and right. It's a good mixture of fun and frustration that's very valuable.

[sokkadora]

see you again — mizu x reader

inspired by: see you again; tyler, the creator

summary: can i get a kiss? and can you make it last forever?

a/n: this came to me in a dream and made me wake up in a cold sweat /j

wc: 2.6k

tags/warning(s): allusions to period typical homophobia, angst, afab reader, fluff, arranged marriage, near death

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

︿︿︿︿︿︿ ✎ᝰ . . . .

You and Mizu had always been close. You would frequently visit your grandfather out in the thick woods behind Kohama, of whom Mizu was an apprentice of. Your grandfather was grateful of you coming around to give Mizu another outlet, a real friend her age to speak to instead of trailing behind him all day and night.

Mizu was quickly drawn to you the day you first showed up as a small child, but was worried about how you would react to her most potent feature. The first few visits you had that she was there for, she ended up curiously watching you from afar as you would talk to Eiji about your newest skill your mother had taught to you, or watching you play outside in the forest.

The first time you had seen Mizu’s eyes, you were enthralled by them. Of course, you had heard of the onryō haunting Kohama, but you expected them to be taller, have sharp and frightening features. But Mizu was shy and gentle with you, silently greeting you with a small flower every time you came to visit as you started to grow closer. You bonded over your shared want to master a weapon that seemed so far out of reach, you with your bow and Mizu’s sword.

You were her closest friend, the first person beside her mother to know she was a woman. You were never scared or deterred from her or her slowly hardening demeanor, or her sharp blue eyes. She could pinpoint the exact moment she had begun to fall for you; after quietly sharing the fate of her mother on the one day that the bad men had come to take her out of this world.

You were nothing but kind with her, an arm resting on her shoulders as your hand gently carded through her hair that you had helped her tie up so many times. When she turned her head to look at you through nervous eyes and she saw nothing but fondness and warmth, she knew you had her wrapped around your finger.

Your visits started to become more infrequent as your father began preparing you for your duties as a wife in the near future, and Mizu found herself distracting herself from your absence by throwing herself into her sword and fighting techniques. But in the moments before bed, she would lay on her back and stare longingly at the ceiling, wondering what would happen if you and her were to just run off together and start your own life together. But what she yearned for to be possible hurt her, because she knew it could never be. The relationship she so desperately craved to have with you was forbidden; it could get the two of you killed.

So her mind became consumed with her quest for revenge. Her sword was forged from the meteorite she and the swordfather found, and she was marching her way to say goodbye to you. The rain that poured on the day of her departure set the tone for how well the attempt at a goodbye would go. With how stubborn you were when it came to Mizu’s safety, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

She stealthily climbed up the tree beside your home, crawling in through a window on the second story floor before quietly in front of your door. Now, she’d never been to your home, but you’d described it to her enough for her to be able to get her bearings. She patted off the front of haori nervously before raising her hand and knocking on your door softly.

She could hear you shuffling around before arriving at the door, opening it and smiling widely at the sight of your friend. She allowed herself to curl her lips into a small smile as you pulled her into your room, the smell of your lavender incense and smoke from the candle crawled it’s way into her nostrils while you shut the door behind the two of you.

While Mizu was glancing around your room for the first time, you smiled before clearing your throat to catch her attention. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at you, her smile dropping at the reminder of what she was here to do. She decided to rip the bandaid off, not bothering with any pleasantries.

“I’ve come to say goodbye.”

Your mood and smile dropped, brows furrowing at Mizu’s sudden words.

You knew of Mizu’s yearning and hunger for revenge, but you figured you’d have more time with her in Kohama before she would depart. You regretted not sneaking out to your grandfather’s when you had the opportunities presented themselves, you felt incredibly guilty for leaving Mizu hanging for so long. She seemed colder now, you wondered what she had been through in the months since you last visited.

You should’ve made time. 

Why didn’t you make time?

Now the one you loved more than anything any rich lord could offer was leaving, and you were stuck here to become a docile wife. The thought of it put a horrible taste in your mouth.

You swallowed thickly, “I’m coming with.”

Mizu blinked in surprise, her eyes widening as you began to gather up your bow and quiver that laid hidden beneath the floorboards in front of your sleeping pad. She swiftly moved over to you, kneeling and placing a hand on your bicep to stop you. She could see the tears glistening in your eyes through your hair that draped over your face, brushing it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear softly.

You paused your frantic movements to grab your weapon, glancing towards Mizu, who continued to be nothing but gentle with you as you began to let the tears trail down your cheeks. You wept, feeling homesick for the person who hadn’t even left yet.

“No, you’re not.” Mizu said quietly, but in such a firm tone you knew there was no room to argue about it. “I need you here. I need to know that you’re safe home, in Kohama. Where I’m going… you could get killed. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you on my watch.”

“But you could get killed, Mizu.” You whispered, turning into her, almost. Your knees touched, Mizu’s strong hands resting on your biceps while you raised your head just enough to stare at the scarf wrapped around her neck. Slowly reaching up, you fidgeted with the standing end of the knot before letting your hand fall to rest against her binded chest. “You could get killed and I’d… I’d never know. I’d be here waiting for you, and you’d never come back. I can’t…” Your voice shook, and Mizu’s hands began to as well. “I can’t live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.”

Mizu’s eyes widened at the admission, her heart swelling sadly.

“Nothing – and I mean, nothing,” she swallowed her anxieties. Should she be admitting this to you now? What if you’re right? What if she doesn’t come back? She paused briefly before deciding to just spit it out. If she was to die while on her journey, she was not going to die without knowing what it felt to be yours.

Even it was for a few fleeting moments.

“will take me from you before I’ve gotten the chance to give you the life you deserve.” She whispered, hands sliding down your arms to take your hands into hers. She rubbed her thumbs over the tops of your knuckles. “I love you,” She admitted, whispering your name as she reached a hand up to cradle the back of your head and pressing a firm, loving kiss you your forehead. “I’ll come home to you. I promise.”

‘She loves me?’ You thought, your brain swirling with excited thoughts as she pressed a kiss your your forehead. Your grip on her top tightened, and you finally mustered the courage to look into her eyes. Oh, how you loved them.

Seeing how this may be the last time you may every get the pleasure of seeing them, you reached your hands up and cupped her cheeks with a heavy sigh, hands shaking. Her eyes stormed with several emotions. Embarrassment? No… Love? Yes, and you were thrilled that it was openly aimed at you. 

With the courage boost of her gaze on you, you shakily traced a thumb over her bottom lip, swallowing down the thick emotions that you felt bottling up. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t shy away from you. She never has.

You slowly leaned up, brushing your lips against her own before finally pressing them together, a mournful whimper leaving Mizu’s throat the second they made contact. Was this the only time she would ever be able to kiss you? She wondered, gripping your wrists softly as she eagerly kissed you back, her stomach flipping.

After what was too soon for either of you, Mizu pulled away, much to her own dismay. It was time.

You swallowed back a cry before pressing your foreheads together, “I love you too.”

———

You didn’t think she’d be gone for so long.

The first day was miserable.

The first month? Miserable.

The first six months? You guessed it!

Miserable.

The first year? Not any better.

You started to visit your grandfather more often to make sure he was cared for and still alive, you often cooked him dinners and stayed the nights to eat with him. He was the only thing besides your concealed weapon that really connected you to Mizu now that she was gone, and your frequent visits to him had interfered with your attempts at an arranged marriage, which resulted in your father doubling down and finally marrying you off to a lord after nearly two years of Mizu’s absence.

He hardly paid any attention to you, which was a blessing for you. It gave you more time to practice your archery and hunting, letting you keep a piece of Mizu with you. It also promised an easier escape for whenever Mizu came back.

Which she did.

Half dead though, which wasn’t ideal.

A man who you now knew as Ringo came crashing into the woods where you practiced archery at the request of your grandfather, and the moment you heard Mizu’s name slip out of his mouth you were sprinting towards your grandfather’s home. He had heard you sprinting through the woods, panting harshly before you slide one of the doors open. He placed the large metal tongs in front of your stomach before you could run to Mizu, guiding you over to the table to grab something to eat.

“You’ll do the boy no good if you cannot take care of yourself while you care for him, child.” He bonked your head with the tool, hobbling away after you walked over to Mizu with the meal, kneeling down beside her and setting it down beside you. 

Your hand didn’t dare make contact with the injury on her forehead, but gently settled against her cheek. Your throat tightened from the overwhelming myriad of emotions washing over you the moment you laid eyes on her pale skin, you reminded yourself that she came home to you. Alive. But the look and thought her physical state worried you beyond anything you could reassure yourself with.

You had politely asked and instructed Ringo to deliver a message to your “husband” (to you, he was just some deadbeat you were legally tied to. He was already close to his deathbed before the few days that had gone on before Mizu’s abrupt arrival) that you were staying with your grandfather for a few days, falsifying an injury that he supposedly sustained that you needed to help him with. Which wasn’t exactly a lie, somebody you cared about was injured, it just wasn’t your grandfather.

Of whom made sure to put you to work while you were there, gathering firewood for him and assisting him to make tea and Ringo to make dinners for the three of you until one of the injured had woken up. It wasn’t the person you wanted to wake up most though.

Taigen, had been the first to rouse from his brief coma. You were not his biggest fan, but you knew him from the years you’d spent growing up by his side in the same village. Mizu never went into depth about what Taigen and his friends had done to her before the two of you met, but she said enough to make you strongly dislike the man.

He was surprised to see you, especially in the getup you were in, dressed similarly to Mizu. In your defense to yourself, how were you supposed to hunt in the kimonos that the women usually wore?

Today, Ringo was tailing your grandfather everywhere, claiming to be his new apprentice and Taigen was off exploring Kohama for the first time in years. You leaned against the building and watched as Ringo rambled while pulling out the firewood your grandfather needed, and your grandfather grumbled under his breath in irritation.

You let yourself chuckle, something you hadn’t done in a long while before your head whipped around at the sound of a groan coming from inside the house. You turned on your heel and jogged inside, your jaw dropping as you gasped at the sight of Mizu. She was sitting up, her hand pressing against the injury that had been stitched up by Ringo before you’d been alerted of her presence in your home.

You quickly ran forward and fell to your knees, engulfing her in a tight embrace. You felt her stiffen as you began to cry into her nape, but she seemed to recognize you quickly and returned the embrace, shutting her eyes tightly.

When you felt her warmth beneath your fingertips, it felt like you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. She came home. To you. And she was alive.

“Mizu…” You laughed through a sob, your hands shakily grabbing the fabric covering her shoulders. Relief flooded through your system as she rested a hand at the small of your back, tugging you closer against her. “You’re alive! Oh my god, you’re alive.” You pulled back, shaky hands cupping her cheeks gently. 

She brought a hand up to grab one of your own to steady your touch, leaning into your hand tenderly before turning into it and pressing a kiss to your palm. It felt good to be home. You were home, still. After all these years, after Mikio, after everything, you remained constant, unmoving. One of the only people that were consistently by her side after everything.

“I missed you,” She mumbled, her right hand coming up to gently rub your chin with her pointer finger while her left hand rested against one of the hands on her face. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

You laughed through continuous tears, shaking your head softly, “I’m just glad you’re back, dumbass.” You held her face a little tighter, sniffling. “Even if you were half dead.”

“I kept my promise, didn’t I?” She joked, gazing into your eyes. They still held so much kindness and love for her… god, she didn’t deserve you. 

“Barely…” You pouted, beginning to litter kisses over her face. She laughed softly, enjoying the affection far too much for her own good. She couldn’t leave you behind again, not now. Two years without you was already enough torture. You finally lingered your mouth over her own when the door opened, and you both turned your gazes to see Taigen awkwardly standing in the doorway.

“Was I…” He clears his throat. “...interrupting something?”

Mizu scoffs, rolling her eyes, “When do you not?” She asked rhetorically, beginning to bicker with the man.

Before he left again, he started mumbling something about how ridiculous Mizu was being and how he didn’t need this today. You couldn’t help but snicker at the mans grumbles, turning to face Mizu again, who was already smiling dotingly at you. She grabbed your face softly in one hand, and you melted into the touch that was missed and yearned for.

“Now where were we?”

[meteorstricken]

I want to take a moment to speak frankly and somewhat personally. Historically, I've praised FFXVI for having an excellent trauma narrative, and for the most part, I still think that's true.

But in this moment, during the final fight with Ultima, I feel it falls short. Clive tells Ultima that he could have never known suffering and implies that if he had, as humanity has, that he'd know that suffering results in togetherness and strength.

In most trauma survivor communities, it's considered a grave taboo and even outright cruel to suggest that one owes their strength to suffering. It's considered a form of toxic positivity. In those selfsame communities, one anecdote you might hear repeated from a great number of trauma-informed clinicians is that part of what makes trauma so terrible is that survivors are not infrequently abandoned, sabotaged, or preyed upon as a direct result of the horrors that befall them--even blamed for it--and tragically, by the very shoulders that should have been there for support. By the very hands that should have lifted them up. That is, anguish and suffering often beget more of the same and bring alienation, despair, and learned helplessness.

Clive is wrong here about his well-supported experience being the norm, and he's dead wrong to connect togetherness and strength as symptomatic of having truly suffered. While I can certainly point to a cohesive string of story events that tell why he ultimately came to rely on this line of thinking, as a trauma survivor myself...this last fight always stings, because I invariably start to feel like I too am on the receiving end of his condemnation. Some of the things Clive says to Ultima are things that people have said to me in the past nearly verbatim. (I have since received apologies from those individuals as they've become better educated, but... their words still haunt me.)

That is no small part of where I found my "sympathy for the devil", so to speak.

And if you want an idea of what trauma recovery might sometimes come to feel like when, all too often, you've received the opposite of support--when the very people, communities, and institutions meant to ensure your survival and recovery have instead turned on you, betraying their intended purpose; when your strength and will to live renew or persist but by your own stubbornness and unwillingness to stay down...well...It's a thing that can wax bitter, counterdependent, and full of rage.

[furiousgoldfish]

How do you continue to function when you're so burnout for decades long it paralyzed you from working properly? Ngl my life is a whole mess after 10 years trying to survive from my abuser. and I still don't know how to get back on my feet again without having a mental breakdown several times a week and feeling suicidal on top of it

and I'm too ashamed to talk about it to people, i did talk, they were understanding at first, but that doesn't stay long. You can only cry and whine once, after that, you're burdening them with your loads.

They'd say you continue fighting no matter what still and I do, fight still everyday in my life even if it's getting up from bed. But what I can't do is going to work, I just can't, it doesn’t help that i experience abuse too from the place i work at, had to quit abruptly at one occasion after the boss got physical with me

In this survival state, I mostly earned money from freelance job (and obviously it's not enough)

Everyone I'm close to is very frustrated with me because I didn't seem to be healed even though it's been this long. What I learned from it is that not to bring up my pain ever again and have to pretend I'm doing fine because that's what my family and friends can tolerate. That kind of isolation kills me, as if they didn't consider that i want to be healed too. no one else wants to survive my trauma more than me. I just don't know how and I can't see how it's possible.

Yeah I relate to this! It is very scary to be expected to be able to work and live independently while you're barely holding it together, unable to get up from bed.

I can only share my experience of this, and maybe it's not that helpful, but I want you to know that it can get better, and that people are wrong for expecting you to suddenly be okay after the experience of torturous abuse.

When I escaped, I had enough money from freelancing saved up so I could just rest for a few years (it was stressful, being scared the money would run out), but I was able to indulge fully in resting and not getting up when I didn't want to. I spent years just laying in bed and trying to work trough the trauma and get the feelings of pain and terror out, and it worked to some extent, I started feeling a little less tired after three years!

I started working very infrequently, odd little jobs, helping neighbours for a bit of money, helping the disabled people or cleaning when I could, and it would just be a few hours of work, and I'd be completely drained after that. But again, giving myself plenty of space and time to rest helped me a lot, and then later working on my osdd also helped me restore some of the energy.

I can work only 2-3 days a week now, for a few hours, and it's enough to survive in poverty, if I don't buy anything, so this is what I do. I'm lucky that I'm able to share my bills and rent with roommates and make my own food, and that I'm so used to poverty it doesn't specifically bother me. I still get sad sometimes that I can't have an actual real job and live more safely, but I'm alive, I'm not tormented, and I spend a lot of time resting, and just tell people 'I'm sick' if they ask questions.

I think freelancing, doing a few hours of work infrequently or just slowly letting yourself recover until you can do something for a bit worked great for me, but I also understand it's not something that will work for anyone. If you're stuck not being able to save up, or work enough that you could pay even a part of your rent, that feels debilitating and scary, it doesn't let you plan for the future, it doesn't feel like you can even complain to people as they're unwilling to listen. I am so sorry for what you're going trough, it's legitimately a bad situation, and it's only natural for you to struggle like this after so much abuse. I believe you need to have as much rest as you need and if one day you get a little better, you might be able to figure it out, and if not, I hope at least people take you more seriously and understand that this is real pain, real fear of losing a future over abuse.

[finniestoncrane]

Failed Objective

KTJL!Boomer x Black Canary, word count: 4k commission: BIT DIFFERENT BUT this was a commission for a friend, one of my rare attempts at character x character work! it is heavily inspired by their headcanons of black canary, but it's boomer and someone who could easily destroy him 💙 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fighting to fucking, vaginal sex, size kink hellooo

Metropolis was quiet, unusually so. And even stranger considering the danger that had taken over the once, albeit infrequent, safe and bustling city. 

Fresh off yet another battle, throngs of their enemies slain (or defeated… it was hard to think of the right word) lay just metres away from where they had stopped to collect themselves. The shade of the building provided a pleasant respite from the unbearable sun of Metropolis and offered them just a moment of calm while the four unlikely colleagues caught their breaths and tried to reconcile their thoughts and their actions. The peace didn’t last very long, however, as Amanda Waller’s voice interrupted them.

“There’s another out there, close to your current location. You’ll have to eliminate them.”

“Jeez, Mandy! Whatever happened ta ‘hello’, hun?”

Harley rolled her eyes as she pointed to her ear, smiling immediately afterwards as she spoke once again to Amanda Waller. She’d been the quickest to adapt to the communication method. It wasn’t the first time she’d had full conversations with the voices in her head, and to boot, she was a bit of a sucker for a strong leader.

“Just teasin’ ya! Now, who do you want us to gut next?” 

She cocked her weapon, narrowing her eyes as she looked around the plaza the four of them were standing in. 

“I hope it’s that Constantine cunt…”

Digger chimed in, similarly making an attempt to look effortlessly cool, cocking his weapon but dropping it in the process. He continued as he scrambled to the ground to pick it up.

“... he’s always undercutting my share of the pu-”

“Enough. My finger hovers over the shock button, Harkness. Please bear that in mind.”

Digger mouthed her words silently, mocking her words, but looking around him to figure out if she could see him.

“I can see you. The surveillance camera opposite you is under our control.”

Eyes wide, mouth downturned, he quickly forced on a sheepish smile and mouthed ‘sorry’ to the seemingly omnipotent eye in the sky.

“Enough. Who’s the target?”

Deadshot was the only one of them capable of focusing on the task at hand, for which he had quickly received the moniker of ‘teacher’s pet’ from Digger, an offering which had won him a swift punch to the arm from Floyd. 

“Dinah Lance, alias Black Canary.”

“Ooooooh, more eye candy.”

Harley’s joy beamed from her smile, met with a similar one, albeit more leering in nature, from Digger. Interrupting their shared appreciation for the category of ‘women who could, and would in Digger’s case, beat them to a pulp’, Waller’s voice cut in.

“Luckily, she doesn’t seem to be under the same influence as the rest. Brainiac might have overlooked her. So this should be an easy task. Try to do it quickly.”

In the silence, the four members of the squad looked to each other, and only when Harley shrugged her shoulders did Deadshot speak up.

“There’s no point in wasting time by having all four of us go after her. You heard Waller, she’s just… normal.”

“Exactly! She’s just normal! And she’s… my buddy…”

“And are you willing to risk your head for her?”

Harley considered for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that loyalty, while important, was not worth risking Waller’s wrath for. Lowering her head, she appeared to have accepted that Deadshot was right. They needed to do as they were instructed.

“We can’t take any chances. There’s no telling what she would do for her more ‘heroic’ friends. So, who wants to volunteer to take her out.”

“Well, I refuse!” 

Turning on her heel, Harley left the group, leaning against a wall as she quietly prayed that they wouldn’t be successful in eliminating the so-called threat her friend posed. To her, working together would make more sense. But it wasn’t worth fighting over right now.

“Well? Who’s taking her?”

Digger stepped forwards, arms outstretched. 

“I suppose I can do it, the rest of you would only make a mess of things.”

“Ok, that’s settled then.”

Without further conversation, Deadshot launched himself onto the top of a nearby building, closely followed by King Shark and Harley as the three left Digger to deal with their newest target.

And trudging dangerously close to her own worst nightmare, Dinah stepped carefully, quietly, through the concerningly empty streets. The mess, she imagined, was likely down to those she knew well enough to recognise it can’t have willingly been their own actions. It was definitely the influence of Brainiac that had pushed the Justice League off the deep end. 

As she turned the corner, taking a moment to settle her nervous breathing before facing potential threats, she found a fate worse than death waiting for her. 

One man, standing alone, finger in his ear as he dug around disgustingly, pulling it out to take a glance, grimacing at whatever he had found, and then putting it back in there. She couldn’t really look away, though. And there was only one man she knew of who could be so compellingly revolting.

Hordes of Brainiac’s victims, the threat of enemies that looked so far beyond what she imagined the physical limitations of even alien worlds to be, a group of meta-humans hellbent on death and destruction. Stressful, to say the least. Concerning? Frightening? Now, it all paled in comparison to the sheer irritation of one single man. 

And then, he noticed her.

“Well! Hello, gorgeous!”

George Harkness. Digger. Captain Boomerang. Whatever moniker chosen, they all amounted to the same thing. A grade A cunt.

“You’re looking good, Canary. Almost a shame what I’m about to do to ya.”

A flash of concern crossed over her face and she struggled to hide it. What exactly did he mean by that? And why was he there alone without the rest of the squad she had heard he was with? Instantly, she knew she should consider him a threat, or at least more dangerous than she might have considered him before. He was a bit loose, determined, and clearly felt he had nothing to lose in the middle of a battlefield. Whatever it was he thought he was about to do to her, Dinah was painfully aware that he wasn’t joking about it.

“Can’t have you wandering around here trying to help out your mates. Who have all gone mental by the way, case you missed that.”

He liked to talk. He enjoyed the sound of his own voice. If it hadn’t been for the words, and the mouth they came out of, Dinah might have been willing to admit that the accent did something for her.

“And Waller’s orders were to kill the Justice League. So I guess that includes you.”

Digger pointed to her with both hands, cocking his thumb with his finger guns, his smile oozing over his face with self-satisfaction. He really was going to try and kill her. And while it should have been terrifying, it only felt irritating to Dinah. Yet another obstacle to overcome.

“Hello! Over there! Oi! Little birdy, can you hear me?”

It was only by sheer willpower, or miraculous and divine intervention, that Digger had managed to survive this long in life, or at least that’s how Dinah viewed his existence. There can’t have been any shortage of people who wanted to snuff that life short, to be the one to finally shut him up for good, and every second in his presence only further served to bolster the idea that Dinah might have to be the one who did it.

“For the good of humanity. I’d be doing everyone a favour.”

She was swiftly pulled from her admittedly, and worryingly so, delightful daydream by his coarse and irritating voice echoing out in her direction.

“Oi, Canary!”

Ignoring him, Dinah took a deep breath, grounding herself, trying to cling to the modicum of control she had left.

“Hello? Canary!”

His sing-song tone was so patronising, so taunting. She snapped in his direction, knowing that she was giving him exactly what he wanted, a reaction, her attention.

“What!?”

“Do you uh… D’ya like any other kinds of birds?”

“What?”

“Do you. Like. Any other. Kinds of. Birds. Other than, y’know, canaries?”

Sucking in air through her gritted teeth, Dinah rolled her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. It was odd, how playful and childish this all seemed. Both of them were in a position where they knew they were eventually going to fight, and likely to the death of at least one or the other. She supposed that was just his nature, and it was sickening to know it was having an effect on her.

“Just asking, cos you look like you might enjoy a cock-a-two. Ha! Get i- OOF!”

Digger crumpled over into himself, clutching at his stomach where the lump of debris had hit him. 

“Did you throw a fuckin rock at me?”

“I did! And you can consider that a warning, Captain.”

Dinah’s intention had been to spit the word with so much vitriol that there would be no mistaking the cruelty behind it, teasing him for having what she considered to be the worst alias she had heard so far. But, as things so often did with George, the acknowledgement of his name, the station it gave him, and the sexual implications he had imagined surrounding it, only served to stroke his ego. Truly, if he hadn’t believed that the back and forth bickering between them was laden with sexual tension beforehand, this was all he needed to confirm it. 

“Listen, Sheila, you don’t wanna piss me off or else- AH!”

Another chunk of rubble hit the side of his leg, falling to his foot and crushing his toes. As he yelped and lifted his foot, hopping on the spot like a ludicrous depiction of some slapstick children’s cartoon, Dinah ran to him, fists clenched and ready to strike him. It was him or her. 

Her first punch was a direct hit. Dinah’s fist coming into contact with Digger’s hard abdomen, sending him crashing to the ground where he lay in the foetal position for a moment before scrambling, once more in a comically pathetic fashion, to his feet. He bounced a little, his fists up in the air. 

“That’s how you wanna play this then, huh Canary?”

Dinah nodded, offering him a smug grin as she raised her fist once more, aiming for one of his ridiculous mutton chops and the fragile jaw underneath. But he caught her, his palm cupping her hand, his fingers curling around it.

“Aw, not fast enough, sweetheart. You wanna try again? I’ll give you another go. Nobody who looks that pretty can be expected to get things right on the first go. Except me, of course.”

Her second strike caught him in his moment of self-congratulatory bullshit, cracking loudly against the side of his strong, aquiline nose. 

“Aw, fuck!”

He cupped his hands over his face, catching only some of his blood, the rest of it trickling down his lips and chin. Pulling them away, he shook the blood from his fingertips, eyes screwed shut as he braced himself for retaliation. Dinah was distracted, entirely, by his profile against the bright sky. The curve of the bridge of his nose, the way his lips pouted out, his chin, the drips of blood that fell to his chest. 

And then she felt her neck being pulled. 

Digger’s fingers entwined in the longer strands of hair that sat on her shoulder, pulling her up and letting her fall back down onto her back. 

“C’mon then, get up. I hate to have to hit a girl, but I draw the line at beating one without a fi- FUCK.”

From her position on the ground below him, Dinah kicked a leg out, meeting him directly at the top of his thighs, just left enough to catch his crotch in her aim. The heel of her boot made contact hard enough to leave a distinct mark on his testicles, as well as his ego. She was beating him, and that was getting to him. When he recovered, standing up straight and facing her, Dinah could see he was seething, teeth gritted, the froth of his saliva spitting out from between them and onto his lips.

They collided once more, Dinah’s arms around Digger’s waist as she attempted to knock him over, Digger’s arms pulling at her arms, fingers digging tight into her skin and producing stinging, bright red welts. Punches were swung, contact was made, and through it all Dinah found that for the first time in a while, she was enjoying herself. It served as a distraction, at least briefly, from the state of affairs she and her friends found themselves in. Beating the shit out of George Harkness was giving her a reason to keep going, to strive against what felt like the crushing weight of futility. 

There was something else, however. Something more than that. Something that made her heart race, adrenaline pumping alongside another feeling. And as she breathed in the scent of his sweat, masked only slightly by his cheap cologne, Dinah realised what it was. 

Arousal.

Her beating heart, flushed cheeks, the way she was chewing on her inner lips and gums, trying hard not to let out any sounds of exertion as she knew they would be perceived as the moans of pleasure they really were. She was getting off to fighting with him. It was difficult to tell whether it was the violence, or the pain, or the satisfaction of seeing the smug smile wiped from Captain Boomerang’s perpetually self-satisfied face. But there was a bit of her that knew mostly, it was because she was attracted to him. A fact that hit her harder than any of the blows that Digger had landed so far.

For as long as it could continue, she was happy to push herself to exhaustion. Having Digger at her feet, having him thrust himself, all strength and force behind him, at her body. It was embarrassing to admit to, but it was hot.

Just as she was beginning to enjoy herself, much to her surface level chagrin but deeply embedded satisfaction, Digger stood back.  It was like he could sense her brief happiness and was determined to put a stop to it. Typical of him, really. But as he stood there, silent and panting, his eyes trained on her, he kept going until his back was against the wall of the closest building, his feelings echoed Dinah’s. Standing metres apart, he watched as she too took the opportunity to catch her breath. Staring. Gazing. Leering.

“Wise to keep your eyes trained on her, Captain. Don’t give her the upper hand. Unless she’s planning on putting it on your co-”

His filth-addled mind was distracted as she made a move, and he jumped back, bracing himself for the next attack. Instead, he watched as she brought her hand to her face, wiping her bloody and slightly swollen lip on the back of her hand. It was difficult not to admire her, the strength, the composure.

“How hot is she!?” 

Not that he hadn’t noticed before, obviously, but now he had time to really take her in, when she wasn’t coming for him with a fury he’d rarely seen in anyone who hadn’t spent over an hour with him. Still, he felt that only made her more attractive. He’d always had a thing for a thicker woman, someone who could hold their own. Someone who would make it a bit of a challenge for him to get to them. And that was certainly Dinah.

The way her chest moved, exaggerating the way her ample breasts spilled over the top of her bodysuit. 

“How often do you get bonza tits and an arse attached to the same person?”

Her strong arms, holding her as she leaned back on them to stare back at him with a puzzled look. 

“Christ, she could tear your cock off with a handy... But it’d be worth the risk, eh?”

Her thighs, thick and muscular, covered in the ripped fishnets. She looked dishevelled, tired out, panting and desperate.

“Fuck’s sake, Digger, stick to the task at hand, mate.”

It was almost impossible for him not to give in to his more lustful desires, but he countered it with the deal that once he had saved the world and was a renowned hero, he’d treat himself a little.

“Me and you, Admiral. We’ll shag as many desperate groupies as we can handle once we’re world renowned heroes. But for now, focus. Focus!”

“Hey!”

He was snapped out of his perverted fantasy by Dinah’s voice, calling out breathily from across him. He looked towards her, narrowing his eyes. The stinging pain around his nose and eye sockets flashed, and for the briefest of moments, his arousal was superceded by his irritation that she’d got the best of him in their fight. But only so far.

“Yeah? What do you want? Lil bit more for ya, Dinah-mite? I’ll give you a minute to straighten your tits out before we get back to it, huh?”

“No need. You going soft, Captain? Giving me a head start, which I definitely don’t need. You want to fight me, come and fight me. You wanna act like you can beat me, come prove it. Do it.”

Stupefied, Digger stared with the gormless grin she was growing very familiar with, his mouth hanging open before crossing into a dismissive smile. An incredulous laugh accompanied his frantic head shaking as he pointed at her aggressively. 

“You want me to hit you? Uh… no. No. It’s some kind of trick.”

“Weren’t you going to kill me?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Oh my god, but what?”

“WELL! I’m kinda… If you must know… I’ve got a bit of a stiffy now. Hitting you now kinda feels like that’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”

Without meaning to, and before she could stop herself, Dinah’s eyes flitted down to Digger’s crotch. The thick bulge, impressive even from this distance and under his pants, sent a twinge down her spine, and she braced herself as she felt her clit throb. It felt pathetic, to give in to the desires she considered taboo, the ones she hid from most of her friends. But it felt like end times. Surely, surely, she deserved to indulge a little. Get a bit dirty, amoral, bad.

“There’s simple solutions to that problem.”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to discern what was going on.

“Like what?”

Dinah stayed silent, raising an eyebrow back at Boomer, but keeping her expression neutral. He could think what he liked, and she knew his thoughts would immediately rush to the filthier options. And while she was happy to entertain those if they came up, there was always the backup plan of amputating the little, or large, fellow if things didn’t quite go her way. In the face of her silence, George laughed again, scoffing at her.

“Nah, you’re fuckin’ with me, birdy!”

Standing up, Dinah shrugged her shoulders, letting out a laugh herself. 

“It’s pathetic. You’re a ‘villain’, albeit one with shit branding, but here you are following orders.”

“What makes you think I wasn’t jumping at the opportunity for an excuse to get rid of you?”

“The fact that you’re so clearly not capable of doing it?”

Seething, Digger took one step towards Dinah, hesitating before he took another and deciding against it. Instead, he raised his voice and continued to shout to her from his safe distance.

“Uh… yeah… well… Fuck you!”

Dinah rolled her eyes, completely enraged at how she still found him almost irresistibly attractive despite his severely lacking wit and charm. She knew there was something about him though/ It wasn’t all bruises and blood. Pain only got her so far, in fact, it was an indulgence she rarely confronted, especially not with Oliver, and definitely not with any of her friends within the League. It was him. He was taboo, he was dirty and disgusting. So it felt only natural that she would find him to be an adequate target for her matching desires. 

“I’m a villain, yeah. But you’re supposed to be one of the good guys, aren’t ya?”

She waited, not responding. It felt like a trap, like a bit before he got to the punchline. 

“Then how come you’re out here flaunting your arse around for me to gawk at?”

It felt good to know that he’d noticed. But his base level misogyny didn’t merit a response.

“Or better yet, how come you’re so keen to get dicked down by the Digger? Don’t you have a fancy little boyfriend? Or has Green Arrow gone evil like the rest of them?”

Dinah’s face felt hot. Red. Embarrassment? Or shame? With a healthy dose of rage?

“Does he not mind you getting shared around? Cos if you’re looking for a rooting, I’ll deliver. Just wouldn’t want to have to kill him too.”

Her fists curled up into balls, her own fingernails digging into her palms, stinging, bringing a tear to her eye as she fought back the urge to wince at the pain. 

“As if Robin Hood would have any choice about being cucked by the real alpha male here.”

“Don’t talk about him.”

He put both hands into the air, pursing his lips and frowning. 

“Touched a nerve there, birdy. Maybe we should stop beating around the bush and I should give you what you want. A last treat, before I give you the old shreeeeeeeeck.”

He dragged his thumb across his neck, frowning and looking to the ground in an act of false sadness.

“I mean… since you’re so desperate.”

“Say that to my face.”

“Gladly.”

Stomping over to her, Dinah prepared herself for the worst, still not quite steady on her feet by the time he had reached her. But instead of being knocked backwards by a swift punch, she felt Digger’s lips clamp onto hers, his tongue being pressed forcefully into her mouth, down her throat, his fingers holding her head in place as she choked against him. 

She pulled back, and the sudden lack of his hands against her made her collapse to her knees. 

“You think you’re choking now? You haven’t seen anything yet, babe.”

Unzipping his pants, Boomer got to the point quickly. He hadn’t been lying about being stiff. He was rock hard, bobbing as he freed himself. And Dinah’s assumptions were right. He was huge. Enough that she stared unblinking at his thick, long cock for a few seconds, bright blue eyes wide and sparkling. Digger caught sight of them and raised his eyebrows.

“Come on, love. We’ve both got work to do. You’re prolonging the inevitable here a bit.”

“I don’t… “

She hesitated, reticent to offer him the truth, to admit defeat to him. But she really had no option.

“... I don’t think that’ll fit… in my mouth.”

“Well then, clever girl. What do you think we should do? Where else might old Digger’s amazing, impressive, massively huge, big, fat cock fit? Hm? You hardly need to be Brainiac to figure that one out.”

Without any further instruction, Dinah settled on her heels, easing herself onto her back on the ground as she unclasped her body suit and let it spring up her stomach. In a swift motion, she pulled both her fishnets and underwear down and spread her legs as wide as they would with everything bunched around her ankles. It felt so submissive, so dirty, to give in to him so easily, but she was beyond fighting. Now, all she wanted was the pleasure that he was so willing to give her. 

Not leaving any time for regret to settle in, Digger managed to pull his eyes away from the sight of Dinah, spread open, displayed so explicitly in front of him, so wet and willing. Leaning down, he shuffled between her legs awkwardly, biting his lip with his tongue pressed out in concentration as he got into the right position, then letting his mouth open wide in a toothy grin as he rubbed the slick head of his cock against her cunt, letting her arousal coat him as he pressed between her slowly and carefully. She was soaking wet, easy to slide into, but he took it slow, easing the head past her lips, almost feeling the satisfying pop as he entered her.

Her body reacted with a convulsion, back arching, hands gripping helplessly at the ground below her. She tensed, but realised that was the worst course of action, and focused on trying to relax her body, to make room for Digger as he pushed his cock further into her. Even once he was up to the hilt, enough that it felt like she was choking on him, he was aware that there were still a couple inches left. But he chose not to push his luck. Instead, he started pumping in and out of her aching, soaking wet cunt, watching her squirm as he picked up the pace. His hands travelling down her front, cupping her breasts, squeezing her nipples between his fingers through her clothes, the drool from his mouth spilling over his lips and onto her cheek as he mindlessly rutted.

Dinah could feel herself writhing below him, dangerously close to him noticing her hips as she bucked them up to him. It really wasn’t her intention to feed his ego, to let him know that she was enjoying this. The feeling of his body rutting into hers, his cock stretching her apart. In fact, she barely wanted to consider that fact herself. So, trying to hide any semblance of pleasure her body might express, she brought her hands to her mouth, clamping them down over the lower half of her face. At least that way he couldn’t see any smiles, any glimmer of a grin, and it would hold off any sounds of satisfaction that managed to escape her tightly closed throat. 

Digger was quick though, which surprised her, since he was someone who had as yet been unable to conquer the Flash. With a swift manoeuvre, he wrapped his still gloved hands around Dinah’s wrists, lifting her arms up and pinning them above her head. He transferred the hold to one hand, clearly thinking he was strong enough to keep her pinned there, hopefully not realising that she was letting him think that. With his free hand, he taunted her, wagging his finger in front of her before pushing back a loose strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eye.

“Uh-uh, I don’t think so, babe. There’ll be no covering your mouth when you’re with the Captain.”

His wide smile creased into his cheeks, eyes narrowing with a boyish lust that made her heart flutter. And her entire body throbbed as he leaned in, strands of his hair falling into her face, his nose close enough that it was almost touching, his breath hot on her as he spoke.

“Besides, little birdy… I wanna hear you sing.”

With one final push of his cock inside of her, her cunt stretched and still not able to take his entire length, Digger hit the spot. A shrill screech fell over Dinah’s lips, her body shuddering in surprised ecstasy as she realised what was happening. Digger Harkness, a man who had so far failed at everything he’d set out to do in life, had succeeded in giving her the best orgasm she had ever had. One swift pummeling from his thick, long cock had her trembling under him, clinging to his back, fingernails digging into him as she tried to keep him inside of her, riding the waves of pleasure with her. 

And quickly behind her, he le tout his own cry, triumphant, victorious, as though he had achieved something he thought impossible himself. His cum, warm, thick, coating Dinah’s insides. A win in his books. One he intended to tell everyone of if he survived what Task Force X were there to do. 

He pulled himself out from between Dinah’s plump, swollen lips, watching his own cum drop out of her and onto the ground she lay on. He let himself rest beside her, just to get his bearings, and let the blood rush back to his head before continuing on with his day.

“Listen… you keep yourself quiet and hidden in one of these buildings, I won’t have to kill you.”

Dinah smiled, keeping her gaze aimed at the sky above them, trying to hide the genuine glee she wore on her face.

“And, little birdy… if you tell me which one you’re hiding in, I might come by for another visit.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I (31F) moved in with my ex-boyfriend (31M), now my boyfriend, two months after his old girlfriend (28ish) who he dated between our breakup and now broke up with him for him emotionally distancing himself in the relationship (this was because he was having what I now recognize was an emotional affair with me). I know I’m TA in that part, and I genuinely feel guilty about it. It was wrong of me to carry on that “friendship” when I knew he had a girlfriend, and I let me lingering feelings for him get the best of me. We dated long enough before that we’re quite serious now, and he and his ex never were.

They work together (she is lower in the totem pole but he is not her supervisor) and he reports they are still on good terms, though my guess is she’s being civil to him at work. They do text with a friendly tone semi-infrequently (maybe once every two weeks or so). I am 100% fine with this. If he wanted to date her he’d be dating her, and I believe that them being on good terms is pretty healthy and probably best case scenario for his career.

I do not think she knows I moved in with him or that I’m back in the picture. This bothers me a little bit, but I know it’s to keep the peace at work. I also kind of feel like it’s none of her business.

He bought a house around the time they broke up and I moved into it with him. He wants to have a housewarming party now that he’s picked out furniture, and he’s inviting other coworkers and feels it would be rude not to invite her when other people are going, since they’re friendly.

I have two problems with this. The first one is, though he was good about not venting about their relationship to me while they were dating, since they broke up I’ve learned one of the reasons was because she “made everything an argument” and “was really dramatic.” Honestly, this kind of makes sense to me—she could feel him pulling away and was hurt. I don’t blame her. However, I do think that the correct time to find out I exist is not AT THE HOUSEWARMING PARTY. I think it has the potential to blow up, and I don’t want the stress of a giant fight at what’s supposed to be a fun event. I want him to tell her ahead of time, but he doesn’t want to fight about it with her. I think it’s not fair to her for her to walk into the house and see my stuff everywhere and find out that way.

Second, I don’t want to have to interact with her. Maybe I deserve it, but I feel horribly guilty for what I did, and I know hosting her would stress me out. I also would take anything she said personally and feel like shit, and I’m worried *I* might overreact and ruin the party.

I know they’re friends, and I don’t want to seem jealous or mean, but I don’t want her to come. WIBTA if I told my boyfriend she wasn’t allowed at the party, even if it might hurt her feelings and make him seem petty at work?

What are these acronyms?

[efangamez]

EFAN REVIEWS: ELDEN RING 📜🧙✨🗡️

Alright, I beat Elden Ring for about the 4th time and I wanted to give some thoughts and reflections. Let's break it down into some parts so it's easily digested.

Setting: 8.8/10

I think the setting is great. I don't think it has as much of a unique kinda UNF the Dark Souls or Bloodborne world has, BUT I think it does a great job at serving its purpose. I wish that it leaned a little more into its motifs as it does in the final bit of the game, but I understand the reveal part of it. Kinda like after sacrificing yourself to the Fire Giant's kiln it's akin to an Eldritch Truth moment, so I can dig it. I will say though, I'm bumping quite a bit because Caelid, Nokstella/Nokron, and Farum Azula are just plain beautiful set pieces. Nothing will come close to Latria though: that inspired a location in my expansion for GRIM releasing this year it was so good.

Lore: 7/10

For me, the lore of this game isn't bad by any means, but it's again, like the setting, lacking a certain flavor. It feels a little generic, and I think too few stars of the show steal the spotlight, like Radahn, Godfrey, and Marika. It doesn't engross me in the world as much as other games have.

Combat: 9.5/10

Easily the best combat in the Dark Souls formula, excluding BB and Sekiro. Huge weapon variety, move sets, and the Ash of War mechanics offer so much build variety, and it was ingenious having them be tied to Affinities. Only complaints are that jump attacks feel a little clunky, and hit boxes on weapons can be a bit strange.

Balance: 6.5/10

As much as I love FromSoft games, they all have issues with balancing. Now, that's not to say that trying other methods of play are gonna make it not be fun, but some weapons are just plain ridiculous compared to others that, by category, SHOULD be more powerful by the game logic. Take the standard Greatsword for example. Easily the best Colossal Greatsword in the game by every means. Why would I wanna play with the Zwei or any other weapon? I get that things like Radahn's swords have a gimmick and Arcane scaling to them, but that doesn't take away that their raw damage doesn't compare. Same goes for spells, Ashes of War, talismans, and even damage types. Bleed is ABSURDLY broken, and while it is fun to melt bosses, it's not as cleanly tuned as some other games.

Exploration: 9.9/10

This game has some of the coolest exploration mechanics and feelings in any games. BOTW has it beat by a little, but man, it's really fun to roam, and if you're replaying, getting the map fragments and looking up guides is pretty seamless. I will say, the only issue I have is for some locked areas behind typical FromSoft shenanigans and the occasional maze-like locations with no rhyme or reason. I do understand their intentions with both, though, but with a guide it's a blast

Bosses: 8.8/10

Bosses are, for a majority, really cool and fun to fight. There are some MAJOR stinkers in my opinion, like Malenia (before try hards get in my comments, I've beat her ass just yesterday with a pure physical Zwei, so I'm VERY in tune with her flaws, Crucible Knight fights (or really any duo fight), and any breath attack by a dragon character lmao (those dual hits are so annoying). Nevertheless, some boss fights, like Placidusax, Mohg, Rafahn, Godfrey, and even smaller bosses like those Cat Statue Thingies you fight, have made their mark as some of the most fun bosses in the entire catalogue. It's a shame repeat bosses, duo bosses, and some really easy bosses kinda muddy up the waters, although for the easier bosses, it's frankly nice for that reprieve every once in a while.

Overall: 9.3/10

I know I had some gripes, but this is easily the best in the Dark Souls vein and Sekiro by a hair, however, Bloodborne has it beat by a .4. Elden Rings is a master crafted game that takes all of the great from their previous catalogue, but also takes some negative constants along for the ride. Despite some very infrequent hiccups, Elden Ring offers an absolutely enthralling journey through the Lands Between for an unforgettable experience. Let's hope the DLC carries the same weight the main game did!

[purplesurveys]

1858

Do you know anyone who has divorced and remarried the same person? What do you/would you think of someone who does that? I don't think so. In theory I wouldn't care, but tbh I don't encounter divorce all that much. It's not legal here so I can't say I understand the complexities of it all that much.

Do you say goodnight to anybody before you go to bed? If so, does it feel weird if you go to bed without saying it to them? No one, unless we count the dogs. Yes, I need to say goodnight to them otherwise I'd feel bad. I also have this whole routine with them where I pinch their cheeks and tell them how handsome they've been today, before I head up myself to turn in haha.

Do you have a favourite role of Johnny Depp's? If you don't like him, what is your favourite role of an actor you like? I do not have a favorite Johnny Depp movie. But to answer the other question, I loved Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting. Okay, him and Robin Williams because he was also terrific as the therapist.

Why did you/your parents choose to live where you do now? Would you move right now if you were able to? Why/why not? If so, where would you like to go? It's a quiet village, and it remains conveniently close to my grandma – meaning while we have a place of our own, it still allows us to reach her quickly for any emergencies. We also wanted to get out because of all the alcohol problems going on the duplex; and because, simply put, living as 12 people in a home designed for 5 was just too suffocating.

I can't move out now if we're talking about my dream location (BGC) because it's too expensive and I want to save up quite a bit more if I want to be able to afford that lifestyle. If any other place than BGC though I think I could already start managing.

If someone broke into your house and robbed you, what could they take that would piss you off or upset you the most? To what lengths would you go to get it back? Has something like this already happened to you before? The dogs, including Kimi's urn. Also my phone tbh, since all my memories are there.

The phone will probably be easy enough to give up, but I won't stop fighting for the dogs, I imagine.

Was there something you were afraid of as a child that just seems silly to you now? Alcohol. I thought it was poison based from how horribly my elders managed their drinks. When I tried it out for the first time and learned to enjoy it, that's when I discovered that it really just depends on the person.

Do you like coffee? I love coffee, which is proving to be torture for me right now because I went through a recent health scare that requires me to skip coffee :(

When did you last make up a baby’s bottle? Never.

Do you eat your dinner at a dining table, coffee table or just off your lap? Either at the dining table or living room couch. Much infrequently, my room.

Did you go to high school with your current best friend? Yes. I even went to college with her, albeit for different degrees.

Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? Technically, no, because my parents refuse my help; but I send them a cut from my pay every two weeks nonetheless.

How many cars can fit in your driveway? Around 3.

Have you ever slapped someone in the face? Yes.

Last person you took a nap with? I guess the overnight with my workmates last month counts as a nap? We had an event with a 2 AM calltime so we went ahead and booked a hotel nearby, but we didn't start turning in til 12 AM.

Does seeing your mother cry automatically make you feel sad as well? Sure.

Have you ever given up on someone, but then went back to them later? Kind of, yeah.

Is your last ex currently in a relationship? I neither know nor care. I haven't for a while now.

Do you think the last person you kissed has feelings for you? No, they don't.

Have you ever been punched in the face? Nope.

Are you the type of person who seeks out revenge? The most I do is visualize it in my head for that brief feeling of satisfaction, but I have never acted any form of revenge out.

Have you ever been asked out by someone you didn’t want to be with? Yes.

Who is the last person to call you gorgeous? I can't remember.

Do you think a lot before you fall asleep? Nah, I just go through IG reels for some funny memes lmao. I never want to be back in that phase where thinking keeps me up at night.

Would you rather have your parents catch you having sex or smoking weed? Sex, I guess. They'd have a much more violent reaction with anything related to drugs.

Do you like it when people call you babe? No.

Would you ever get your nipples pierced? Never.

Does it bother you to get shots in the mouth? Does it hurt? Well so far, no. I've gotten shots in the teeth twice for wisdom tooth extractions, and they both felt like nothing. I guess it's a matter of the dentist and if they'd be heavy-handed or not.

Ever ride in a limo? When did you last do so? Never been in a limo.

Do you have a lot of self-discipline? I'd say for the most part I have it in check, but I'm awful in a few contexts lol like how I always get food delivery even WHEN I DO NOT HAVE MONEY

Have you ever been to another country’s capital city? I have been to two – Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur. I'm not counting Singapore, lol.

What’s something that has upset you lately? Hearing of instances of pet neglect/abuse.

What’s something you don’t think people take seriously enough? Education. I could very well go on and on about this. It's very frustrating.

Have you ever dated someone who had a child from a previous relationship? Nope.

What’s your favorite kind of soup? I love a good creamy mushroom soup, or miso soup.

Have you ever been 4-wheeling? Once with my family, on our trip to Ilocos over a decade ago.

Will you be attending any weddings in the near future? Probably :)

Do you have any important anniversaries you celebrate? [trigger warning: suicide] It's important to me, but April 7 is the day I discovered BTS; I've also associated it as the day I was pretty much saved from killing myself, because I already had had plans to do so that month.

What will be the next concert you attend? Not a concert but I am thinking about going to Kim Soo Hyun's fanmeet next month.

Have you ever seen a horseshoe crab? They’re scary, right?! Yeah, I see what you mean.

When was the last time you had a hangover? May last year.

Do you own many pairs of shorts? I wouldn't call it many. It's like, 5 pairs.

Who was the last person you texted? Hans.

When was the last time you felt like letting it all out and having a cry? I cried every day, January to February of this year. I thought it was never going to end. I'm very happy I managed to get myself out of that rut.

When was the last time someone made you feel like an idiot? Ooh that was like last week when I was asking a question sincerely and my mom answered me like I was the dumbest. I haaaaaaated it and wasn't able to hold back either – I remember asking her to please don't talk to me like I'm stupid.

Would you allow your children to date prior to 16? Sure.

What was the last restaurant you made a reservation at? Circles.

Would you rather read a book, or listen to the audiobook? Read.

What is your favorite book? I haven't found it yet.

What is something you're insecure about? Mmm, maybe the bumps on my forehead. They're not a lot, but it still bothers me because it used to be clear.

What do you consider your biggest accomplishment? Moving on from my breakup allowed me to heal and soar in a way I've never done before. Hans and Angela always remark on it.

Who knows you the best? I don't know. I want to say Andi.

Will anyone be visiting your house any time soon? I don't think so.

Scroll through your camera roll quickly without looking, then stop it with your finger. What's the first picture your eye lands on? Jungkook.

Have you ever been chased by a dog? Only in a playful context.

What's your favourite kind of soda? Ooh, I don't like soda.

Do you have a drink with you right now? What is it? Just water.

What was the last app you opened on your phone? Photos, because you asked me to check my camera roll.

Is your voice high, low, or somewhere in the middle? It's ever so slightly on the low side.

Are you wearing any rings right now? Nope.

How many beds are in your home?F Four.

What is the last thing you ate? Paella.

Who is your favorite person to spend time with? Angela and Hans.

Are you considered a "clingy girlfriend"? When I was in a relationship, I used to be.

Are you good at multitasking? Yes, especially at work.

When's the last time you went to a nightclub? Around three weeks ago, but it was for work because it was an event that was held in a nightclub.

[itstheoneshot]

Kinktober Day 29

Safe Word - Luhan

!dom Luhan

“Say it.”

You could swear that Luhan looked ready to kill, as his dominant side is out in full force. He stands over you, as you kneel in front of him, your eyes puffy from crying, and cheeks red from being slapped so hard over and over again, but you didn’t break easily.

“I said,” You daringly reply, staring directly into his eyes in what possibly could be a death wish, “Make me.”

Luhan grabs you around the throat, the force of it knocking the wind out of you as he drags you up onto your feet. You can’t breathe, and are further winded as he steps you back into the wall, pressing his forehead to yours to keep your eyes on only him.

“You’re going to regret that,” He warns you, “I know you are at your limit.”

He is right, and you both know it. You are so wet, you are practically dripping down your legs and your body is weak from the continuous pushing, prodding, fucking, beating, edging. He has been relentless tonight, more than usual, but you definitely haven’t helped, turning your brattiness up to an almost uncontrollable level.

As each second passes, you realise that he isn’t going to let up, even when your lips begin to turn blue. So much for being uncontrollable, your body is pinned against the plaster, and you are no match for his strength as you try to push his hand away. You can feel his cock, pressed against your stomach, but you can’t move to touch it, fuck, how long has it been since you last took a breath? Your vision is hazy, head spinning as Luhan pushes you up the wall, your feet leaving the ground as he does so.

You should say it, you know that you should, but you aren’t sure whether you even have it in you to vocalise anymore. You have no control as he lowers you down onto his cock, a soundless yet strangled moan leaving your lips as he fills you effortlessly.

Luhan releases his grip on your throat for a moment to readjust, to lift you up and drop you down again, taking him in deeper than before, but his hand moves to choke you out before you can even finish his name. This time is more intense, the choking is harder, the infrequent breathing is terrifying, but the way that your body reacts to it is even more so, you are wetter than before, you are so fucking turned on as he uses you.

“Lu,” You manage to speak, albeit almost inaudibly, “Please.”

He lets go of your throat once more, but his hand only moves up to hold your chin, keeping you still as he continues to fuck you. It hurts now, your body has been used so many times, every toy, all of his fingers, his mouth, you are fucked out, and he isn’t going to stop unless you tell him to.

“I told you,” He growls, his teeth bared, “You have to say it, or I won’t stop.”

You have to mentally work yourself up for this, fighting the submissive part of you that wants to keep going, to let him cum again, even if he has already multiple times in this session, though not nearly as many times as you. It is okay to call it quits, you have your boundaries, your limits, and you are further past them than you really want to be.

“Deer.”

You say it, you finally break and you say it.

Luhan stops in an instant, pulling out of you, and tugging you straight into his arms, his fingers gently combing through your hair as he soothes you.

“Baobei,” He sighs, kissing your temple as he keeps you close, “You’re okay, I’m here, it’s okay.”

Now that it is over, you are trembling in his embrace. You know that you should have listened, but you wanted to see how far you could take it, and you definitely found that out. You wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in his scent and calming yourself, that truly was an experience, one that you enjoyed, fulfilling so many of your desires.

“I love you,” You mumble against his chest, using his breathing as a stabiliser for your own, “Love you, Lu.”

Luhan whispers his love back to you too, and you are grateful that while being dominant, rough, and causing you to scream your safe word are all skills that Luhan possesses, there is one more that he is even better at, and that is aftercare.

———

Kinktober Masterlist!

[chaoxfix]

Obsessed with your most recent fic! The way you write Sonic is just-- 👨‍🍳😘, and I'm foaming at the mouth at every mention of Robotnik being taken seriously... Do you have any personal HCs about Eggman, or ideas about how far his conquest will go in the future?

Ahh thank you!! I'm really glad you enjoyed it, this prompt week was really great for letting me explore a lot of the human v mobian v eggman empire lore thoughts i have! (and i have a LOT of those thoughts <3)

i guess, as much as we make fun of forces (and as much as it truly, genuinely deserves the mockery), forces does showcase a lot of what would happen if eggman successfully, fully took over. it shows green hill being taken over, as well as other areas, and how deforestation and destruction of the environment are tantamount to the eggman empire. and it shows how quickly he could do it without sonic, with the resources he's built up over the years. if he didn't have to spend all of his resources fighting one single goddamn blue rodent, he would've taken over the world many times over by this point. hence, six months. (i acknowledge this because even though i love my lore idea that eggman used sonic as a battery while in captivity, i also acknowledge it's just an au, a juicy what-if, and there's no canon support for it.)

i think he has plans to colonize space, and to basically enslave humanity wherever his empire intersects with humans... i don't think he's overly fond of humans, they just sort of exist to be ruled over in his mind. meanwhile, imo there's so much bad blood between him and mobians (or, non-human people in general, to group mobians and wisps together) that he just kind of wants to destroy them if they don't immediately bend a knee. early on though, my headcanon is that he generally treated mobians and humans the same. he wants control, and for people to basically worship the ground he walks on. (which is why IDW starline both fascinates and confuses me, as this is indeed someone who worships the ground he walks on, yet eggman is annoyed with him. but also it shows me that he doesn't care much for mobians regardless of their loyalty, if they have any sense of personhood or ambition beyond salivating over him).

i also think eggman's big on destroying nature purely because it can't be controlled. mobians without a real connection to nature would be easier to subdue, hence why in my opinion, he would have first tried to assimilate mobian cities into prioritizing technology over nature -- giving them convenience, having them take on human attributes like wearing clothes, eating fast food over growing your own gardens, etc. i think there are groups of mobians who grew up in and live in cities who are super comfortable using those sorts of things and would use manufactured items over handcrafted -- i headcanon these to be characters like charmy, rouge, and vector. meanwhile mobians who were born in non-human territories like islands would still interact with technology, but on a more infrequent-basis, and there would be more of a sense of harmony between making your own items and using what's already there, as well as prioritizing nature. that's what i headcanon for tails and amy, and to some extent sonic (though i headcanon his island was full of outdated, abandoned technology and settlements, but that's a theory for another day). and then there are some who are just truly born in the middle of nowhere and have little interest in modern tech (knuckles and big -- and imo, sonic has some crossover with this category too).

eggman would use the first two categories (but especially the first) to make them easier to control. who wants to fight against convenience, especially if you've been raised without knowing how to make things by hand? and if you're destroying the environment, you're depleting the resources needed to ever switch back to old, traditional methods. thus making groups dependent on you forever. there are very real case studies on this irl, which feel cheap to utilize here by name, but it's impossible not to think of them in these situations.

it's also my longstanding headcanon that humans aren't even native to mobius (and call it earth as a awy to further cement it as theirs), but instead arrived a few hundred, maybe a thousand years ago -- they simply terraformed it and took over the continents. eggman would have been raised with that mindset, that this is their home and they took it by force and there's no sense in the locals fighting back.

i ALSO would like to talk about the robotnik legacy. gerald robotnik, ivo (eggman) robotnik's grandfather, was a famous inventor for many things, but what he was best known for was revolutionizing the world of first aid. he canonly invented heal units, which maria references as his most famous/best invention in shadow the hedgehog (2005). heal units can heal any wound, albeit not disease. an invention like that is ... extremely powerful. it must have given him a fortune -- which doubtless would have been passed down to his kids and grandkids. like eggman and maria.

the difference is maria grew up sick without a cure, and it was luck and her grandfather's connections that let her live on the ARK where it was safe. she wouldn't have grown up spoiled; there just wasn't the same access to prestige and fun activities aboard the ark. she grew up with hospital gowns more than designer clothes. she grew up caring about others, because she knew how important it was to go out of your way for those dependent on you -- she was in the position to be cared for, and she knew very well not every girl with an autoimmune disease would be as lucky as she was. she grew up practicing gratitude, and being resilient enough to fight through constant testing and sickness, and still had a good heart. she was also primarily raised by gerald aboard the ark; gerald, who we can assume was at least slightly more of a self-made man. he wouldn't have raised her the way his kids would have raised her, spoiled from a silver spoon in her mouth from day 1. he raised her in a science lab. a pragmatic man who demonstrated love to the point of invention.

eggman, though. eggman would have grown up with all of that wealth, with parents who probably showed love through gifts, not hard work, not invention. designer clothes, power, the access to bully other kids. he would have grown up extremely spoiled -- and extremely bright. he had the robotnik brain, and the funds ("a small loan of a million dollars" if you will) to his inventions with a bang. between his own patents and the robotnik fortune, eggman was in a perfect position to take over the world. first with convenient inventions (ignore how they spy on you and destroy the environment, thus making you dependent on them forever) -- then with buying it outright. and those that resisted, by force.

it's also worth noting that he'd have access to heal units in his early inventions; he used small animals as living batteries. i wonder if some of his technology was healing them just enough to keep them functional for longer? (and, i wonder, if thats a concept i can steal for battery sonic au...)

all this in mind, the only thing slowing him down was a means to power his inventions. to power his empire. living batteries worked for a bit, up until people started fighting back, and destroying his other power sources. that's what led him to desire the chaos emeralds -- as well as, imo, his grandfather's research into chaos energy. all his research into old gods. but unlike gerald, eggman grew up spoiled and then became the most powerful man in the world -- why wouldn't he think himself a god, why wouldn't they fascinate him? why shouldn't he use technology so advanced that ancient civilizations saw it as magic? and unlike gerald, he didn't seek this technology for its healing or restorative purposes (after all -- chao live forever in a perpetual reincarnation, doubtless gerald was interested in this as a man of scientific health-related breakthroughs), but to simply power his designs.

frontiers also showed us eggman is interested in digital consciousness in tech -- which is very scary for a man who already has conquered much of the world. if he could get into people's minds, or encase those who disagree with him into a digital torment dimension... what would he do with it? we've already seen research on the phantom ruby... so to go from the phantom ruby, then ancients' tech... this is clearly a man interested in extreme power, yes, but also interdimensional conquest, or at least imprisoning people who fight against him in pocket dimensions, separate from reality, where they will never be able to escape and defeat him. (though obviously he started researching these things based on their connection to chaos and the chaos emeralds, but the comments he makes on the ancients' technology set off a lot of red flags for me.)

eggman is a man of many interests; he clearly has an affinity for living batteries and AI (all his robots tend to have a personality and the means for intellectual/emotional growth). but im seeing a trend recently of him being quite invested in extradimensional travel and conquest, too.

...this is rambly and quite long. hopefully you enjoy it, i've just got a lot of feelings about eggman

[emilee-3d]

Thoughts on Gender #1

I think about my gender very infrequently these days. That's probably why I came to the conclusion during this pandemic, while I was alone and with myself and my own thoughts for extended periods of time, that I'm some flavor of agender/genderfluid/genderqueer/nonbinary. I'm not really sure what to label it as I don't particularly care (okay I care a little). I'm just me, that's it. I don't think I need more of an explanation than that. I use she/they pronouns interchangeably, femininity and androgyny/genderless...ness just kind of mingle around in me with no real leaning toward either. But while I don't really think about my gender now, everyone else does. And when I was a kid they did A LOT, and I did too. Like I was always the kid that wanted to do the same shit my brother did, because my brother was a boy and got to do things I wasn't "allowed" to do because of some arbitrary guidelines based on my body's presentation to the world. Gross story, but I remember asking my mom when I was a little why my brother could pee outside and I couldn't and she said "well... because he's a boy, he's got different parts than you, it's something he can do that you can't," and I took this as a challenge to PROVE to her that duh, of course I can pee outside, see it's easy, I don't see what the big deal is. And I did and she dropped that argument shortly after (lol). I think my mom is one of the few people that never really limited me because of my gender. She certainly has SOME gendered shit that I'd prefer she drop (but I think it's some kind of parental love that drives those things), but she never really said "oh you can't do that because you're a GIRL." Meanwhile, my life (much like a lot of queer folks) was marked with a myriad of "you can't do that because of your gender" bullshit. Can't play baseball, but you can play softball. Can't join football, but you can be a cheerleader. Can't date girls because you're a "girl", can't be loud, can't be too quiet, can't be weird or strange or artsy or have short hair or wear clothing outside your genders limited closet choices, can't be sad or angry or depressed but you can certainly fake and ooze tremendous amounts of insincere happiness and positivity! I have never understood WHY I got this treatment. I consistently proved that I could do literally everything I've been told I couldn't do. Yeah, maybe I'm BAD at doing those things (cough sports I'M SHORT SUE ME cough), but I CAN do them, and my gender doesn't really factor into why I can or can't do those things. I think that's what always got me, it wasn't about my body, because boys with a similar body type to mine were allowed to do things I was banned from doing. It was about my GENDER. It was an arbitrary, completely non-issue thing to me that I was constantly having to fight against. And why?! My assumed gender is constantly brought to my attention by people that don't even care to know what I'm good at, what I can and can't do, what I'm capable of. People stare at me, assume I'm a woman, and from there they follow the standard dialog options of how to treat a woman. It's always been a brief glance at a feminine figure and a split-second judgement that forced me into a binary that deep down I never thought myself a part of. And I shouldn't play dumb, I KNOW why people treat people the way they do (patriarchal systems of power, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, etc etc take your pick y'all), but it doesn't make it less frustrating when I go through my daily life and I some stranger makes an assumption about me and now suddenly I'm forced into the role of "woman" against my will. I guess what I'm saying is, I don't need a gender to feel valid in the person I am. Femininity and being identified as a woman for so long shaped the person I am, and it will probably continue to shape me for the rest of my life. But I don't DEFINE myself as a woman, and I don't think I ever have. I define myself as just... me. I guess. And I like me. And me is good and cool and funny and weird and hot (lol). I am not a woman or a man or some 3rd gender. I exist comfortably in my body and present as myself. I don't know what that makes me, but I'm just glad to be here. . . . . . Afterword More thoughts to come I suppose?! I'm new to this whole "not having a gender" thing so I'm kind of just working things out in my brain and writing things out feels cathartic. I really don't think about it that much, but I'd like to because I don't know, maybe other people can relate or give me advice or share their experiences with me too. GENDER IS WEIRD AIN'T IT.

[andswarwrites]

Day 24

The month is almost over.  Only six days remain.  I'm going to continue posting my writing in May, but infrequently.  I want to go back to writing unrestrainedly, without worrying about an audience.  When I write fiction, I tell the story to a reader, of course.  But journaling is different.  Because I'm sharing my thoughts and emotions directly rather than indirectly, void of the filter fiction provides, I analyze every sentence, every word, every idea, to try to make it as clear as possible, not open to misinterpretation.

I used to overanalyze, and overthink.  And is there such a thing as over-feeling?  Because I did that too.  I felt and thought too intensely.  And I feared misunderstandings.  That's why I would explain and explain and explain.  You know what I've discovered?  It's impossible to express ourselves so that everyone catches our meaning perfectly in every exchange.  You may mean one thing, and the other person understands something completely different.

In the world we currently inhabit, offending someone else is almost inevitable.  You know what?  If you're being as kind and tactful as you can, and they get offended anyway, that's not your problem.  If you're honest, truthful, if you apologize when you do something wrong, you're already doing really well.  Maybe you made a passing remark or a joke that struck another person differently from how you intended it.  First of all, they should tell you, giving you a chance to make amends. 

The expression "Fight fire with fire" makes me grind my teeth.  Firefighters know that if you light another fire, that's not going to do anything to extinguish the one that is already causing harm.  We fight fire with water.  You can use words that ignite, and you can use words that cool and refresh.  And sometimes the best response is silence.  Move on.  Let go.  Fires die down when they are not being stoked.  That approach takes time and restraint. 

You know the "fight or flight response" we keep learning about, how we're either wired to fight off an attack or flee from it?  I've been trained from my experiences to choose a third option: simply stand your ground.  Don't engage, but don't back off either.  Calmly, quietly stand up for who you are as a person and your set of values.  I've been in enough arguments and conflict to have learned that this method really works.  And if the conflict is online, I just scroll on by.  I do not get involved.

A discussion, on the other hand, that is hard to pass up.  But I prefer having a discussion in a one-on-one, face-to-face setting, because that way eye contact is possible, and you can hear the other person's tone of voice.  I like to reserve texting and chatting for being upbuilding and encouraging.  I try to avoid texting while angry, because I might vent my feelings and go overboard.  It's better to text that you would like to talk in person, and arrange when and where.

It used to torment me when I would suspect I had angered or offended someone.  Now I think of it as part of life, and the best I can do is work to resolve the matter on my end.  And if I can't, at least I did my best.  Knowing you are doing your absolute best is the antidote to beating yourself up.  You can't give more than what you are equipped with.  If someone asks you for $100, but you only have $50, and you give them the $50, if they get mad at you for not giving what they asked for, that makes them a pretty crummy person, and it does not reflect upon you in any way.

The thing is personalities crash and collide with one another like chunks of ice and rock floating in close proximity in space.  Yet from a distance all that mess looks like beautiful, serene rings, at least the ones around Saturn do.  What I'm saying is that human interactions are often messy; maybe someone is having a bad day and they lash out.  It's not your fault, and it was unfair, but can't you just forgive and move on?  Would you want to be held accountable for every rash thing you've said and done while annoyed and stressed?

Can you tell I think about this topic a lot?  I like to keep the peace in my family, but that doesn't mean I want to be a doormat.  I realize some conflict is unavoidable in every relationship, because nobody agrees perfectly about everything.  If I want my own point of view to be respected, I also have to display respect for the person with whom I disagree, and not dismiss what they say before they're done speaking.  It won't physically hurt me to listen to a differing viewpoint, in fact, I may see the validity of it, and adjust how I think as well.

Being open and flexible, instead of harsh and rigid, has stood me in good stead during my adult life, and the more I work at communicating, the more I see that conflict can be resolved.  I was told once that I would make a good mediator.  Honestly, a lot of parents would; peacemaking is necessary in a happy home.  And it is invaluable when navigating life, from spending time with friends to spending time on social media.  At times I've had something said to me that was like a shard being stabbed through my heart.  But I've learned that if I give it time, the pain from those words dulls, and I can forgive the person without any confrontation.  Moving on and getting on with life seems to me to be the best policy, nine times out of ten. 

[fully-caulked-wagon]

Some of my favourite lines/passages from my shitty Aidungeon Zosan fanfics Part 7

Pretend that part 6 never said '(final)'. Pretend right now. Fic 4 (Again cause I've added like, 11,000 words to it since I posted the first fic 4 part.):

If his legs twitch in anticipation of a fight anymore than they are now, he's sure he'll come down with a severe case of the dancing plague. Dancing, being code for 28 rage-induced kicks to the cranium of dickhead sheriffs. - Don't ask me why I decided to reference a meme as dead as '28 stab wounds' cause I honestly don't know. Sanji startles slightly, running a hand through the back of his hair and sighing, "Right. Right. Yeah. See ya, I guess. If I die, make sure I'm buried by the lovely hands of Nami-Swan and Robin dear. And don't touch my kitchen." Zoro huffs and rolls his eyes, "If you die, we're throwing you straight in the bin." - "When I die, just throw me in the trash!" - Danny Devito Sanji stretches his arms high above his head and cracks his neck, "I'll be back before the Mosshead even has the chance to get lost in his own thoughts." "Oi!" - This is like, right after the previous excerpt, I just wanted to separate them. "Fucking Christ. Stupid fucking Marimo and his dumbass being right." - What a fool, what a nincompoop, what a buffoon, what an imbecile, what an ignoramus. Also - Jesus Christ canonically in One Piece verse, question mark exclamation mark? In fairness, he doesn't have to sneak through too many thin alleyways - none other than today, in fact. Getting shit talked by the mosshead, on the other hand? Not so mercifully infrequent. - Oof. Usopp is sat rigidly in his seat with a small smile on his face as the mosshead stacks the most miniscule fucking deck of cards Sanji has ever seen atop Usopp's nose - it somehow managing to have reached monstrous heights - while the scent of a stroke Sanji's almost convinced he's having wafts from the plate of 'buttered toast' Cal is munching on on the sidelines. - I just liked the phrase 'the scent of a stroke', honestly. Might be one of those things where it's only funny to me, idk. "Usopp thought you were dead!" Maria follows up calmly, "Zoro wished you were dead." - Double oof. Sanji's about however long it would take to read the full list of vegetables Luffy would willingly eat over meat - that is to say, a second at best, from growling. - This whole fic is just one big test of Sanji's patience, ngl. Sanji sighs and lets his head hit the table, a hollow 'thunk' ringing in his ears, the ringing growing stronger as the mosshead snorts in an unattractive and not at all endearing way, "That sound was your skull, shit Cook." "That sound was your brain trying to come up with original insults, jackass, shut up." "Scathing." "You don't even know what that means." - Triple oof. Sanji thanks the impending dread that fills the room for stopping him from blatantly swooning. - Ah, existential doom. A fickle mistress. Franky gives a low whistle, "Hot. ...I think." - There's a lot of things that are questionably hot in this world. Franky will fuck every last one of them. Sanji can feel his fucking ears turning red, damn this stupid perceptive bastard, "Che. I was just trying to figure out if your brain was small enough for a metal pole to go in one ear and out the other without making contact." "Bastard." - Goddamn shrubbery and their fucking observation haki. On his right there's a door labelled 'bathroom' that, once he opens it briefly to glance inside, gives way to a small room that can only really be called a bathroom on the technicality that the thing in the corner is probably a bath and the amount of space the area takes up is probably enough to be considered a room. - Ah, hotels. (Technically it's an inn, but shh.) Robin freezes in place once they reach the saloon, tilting her head slightly as she inquires to Franky, "By any chance, have you been rattling?" Franky simply smirks and opens up the door to his stomach fridge and extends a tiny hand in to fish out a pair of sea stone handcuffs, spinning it around on one finger and chuckling, "Maybe." - Dude just rattles sometimes, don't worry about it. Robin places a hand to her cheek, "Oh my. Perhaps this passageway has a connection to the future? It would be a shame if we passed through, and our bodies slowly aged and shrivelled up until we were nothing but bones and bolts." Franky sweats slightly, replying slightly shakily, "Yeah, that's uh... That's- Th... Please stop being so ominous. It's SUPER freakin' me out." - Yo. That would suck, I think. Franky chuckles, calming down somewhat, "Yeah, well, not in this case. I don't exactly find the slow, agonising aging of my body until I rot away particularly sexy - sorry." Robin hums, "That's fair, I suppose." - This is again almost immediately after the previous excerpt but yada yada. A couple beats of silence pass and Franky leans down and mutters, "Do I need to eeny-meeny-miny-moe this again, or...? I'm down for charging blindly in a random direction too if you are." - Again. Implying he's done that before. I refuse to think about the implications of that.

[theredpharaoah]

Avatar: Frontiers Of Pandora Ideas(Needs):

•Romance Options for all genders and sexualities. Adoption

• Houses, Pens, Animal Taming of all the animals: Viperwolves, Thanators, Cloaked Panthers, Zeswa(regional), keeping a herd of direhorses, Ikran Rooksry, etc

•Gardening and Plant genetic engineering(maybe using Eywa instead of technology - for animals too). Being able to plant stuff

• Way more Ikran skills: we should have one where we can attack people on the ground with the Ikran. Another one where the Ikran will help us fighting enemies if we’re not on it - helicopters, Amp Suits, etc. They should have skills for all the animals to do. Like retrieving spare parts, hunting, and stuff. We should also be able to have custom names and skins for them - like the warframe systems.

•more communal stuff: maybe some religious modes - going to the underworld or Eywa, and visiting your sister, mother, etc. Making murals, cave paintings, making totems, weaving/dyeing, more cooking and cooking with more than 2 ingredients. Festivals, Hunts, foraging events, Ikran/direhorse races with clans, etc.

•New enemies: Some of them should be Avatars

•Seeing animals being birthed; infant and juvenile animals. An animal birthing mechanic like the gathering mechanic could be interesting - if not gross.

•Alma and some other resistance members teach Na’vi human braiding styles.

•Apple Music/Spotify plugin to the walkie talkie. Idk. I want Blaque and 702 playing in game while I’m grinding, and the Na’vi going “what is that amazing sound?!”

•A Way of Water update! Hello?!

•More storage space all around. Honestly if we could just have the ability to switch between ALL of our weapons in combat, and have a much bigger weapon wheel, the game would be less tedious.

• humane traps for hunting.

Quests:

•Eetu: he saves an orphaned Ikran or a trapped Ikran and that becomes his new Ikran.

•Adoption: We find an RDA storage of empty avatars. The bodies lack consciousness and are still infantile to childlike, as the RDA had to evacuate before they could finish growing them. We take them and give them to Eywa. She imbeds them with consciousness and we have to either ask the clans to take some in as their own, or they become the new members of the Sarentu Clan. This would play into the romance mechanic. Ooh like your child being a reincarnation of Aha’ri the way they did with Grace.

•The Sarentu Clan: Alma manages to get the resources and tech to create avatars for the Resistance. Giving them a huge advantage over the RDA. Considering that they have no way of getting home, many decide to permanently take up Avatar bodies and put their human bodies on Ice - using them infrequently in the labs. Or the Resistance is attacked and many are killed but Eywa transfers their consciousnesses into Avatars - ones she’s absorbed due to us overtaking Avatar bases and whatnot. Many of the Resistance Members become new members of the Sarentu. The Sarentu kids and the ancestors teach them our ways, but we also don’t feel so alone anymore because the people we know are now family, and share our blend of human and Na’vi culture. They end up Repopulating the Sarentu Grounds too.

•Being able to introduce our clan members to stuff and take them on first experiences would be cool. Like me being able to take Nor, Ri’nela, Teylan,(and other resistance members), on their first flight, hunt, etc, would be so cute. This could be cool as a co-op option too.

•Some quest where we meet Jake Sully and call him out for being a white savior.

[deathfavor]

@ofsavior said: Life after Toman was challenging to say the least. Reasons to celebrate ere infrequent; life had a new set of challenges and demands. They were adults now, but that meant new beginnings — new stories. It was the reception dinner of Pah’s wedding. Jubilant laughter, exchanges of banter, and fun tipped back and forth all around.

Chifuyu found himself at ease, sitting at the table beside Kazutora. “A suit seems fitting for you.” He muses and sips on his glass. One hand reaches to squeeze Kazutora’s shoulder, and Chifuyu only smiles. A rueful smile. “You look a lot like Baji-san with your hair like that.” He notes, a touch of pain squeezing at the words. “I thought I would have had Baji-san as a plus one to Pah’s wedding, but I…” He stops himself, pausing to consider what good it would do to bring this up now. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this Kazutora, but you have really pretty eyes.” In some respect, they’re familiar. Now that he’s come to know them better, they’re readable and oddly comforting. And maybe he’s been too tipsy for his own good, which leads him to staring at them a little too long. “So you’re going to be my plus one at Takemichi’s wedding, right?”

   Out of everyone’s celebration that it could have been, Pah’s is definitely the easiest for Kazutora to find himself relaxing at. Enough so he even ventures forth directly to offer his congratulations and ends up spending some time chatting with him. It helps to ease some of the nervousness that has been pacing inside his chest like it’s a cage made of bone. But he’s content to slip back more to the sidelines after with a feeble promise to talk later. ( It’s rather baffling still to Kazutora about how often such a phrase is said.) It’s fine by him to simply observe while he stays closer to Chifuyu and his safety.  

   Kazutora eyes the glass in his own hand and takes a sip – it’s far from his own preference for alcohol but it's something at least. He looks towards Chifuyu at the comment, and then reflexively looks down at his outfit despite knowing what he’s wearing. “ You think? “ Kazutora inquires curiously. “ At least I’m finally getting to wear one for a happy occasion. “ He laughs quietly, though there’s a subtle note that's off about it. All the other times he'd worn a suit had been for trials. Better late than never he supposed.  

   The next words catch him off-guard, breath caught in his throat and the near-empty glass placed on the table before he can drop it. Like Baji? He can hear Chifuyu’s words – but more than that, he can hear the pain that’s tucked into every syllable and crevice of his smile. I’m sorry. The apology rests on his tongue and proceeds no further because he knows that’s not what is wanted ; Kazutora’s penitent expression makes it obvious what he’s thinking of. It should be Baji here not him. It should be Baji getting to laugh and enjoy the festivities that would mean far more to him who'd always been a part of Toman than the forgotten founder. Kazutora listens attentively to Chifuyu and watches when he cuts himself off.  “ Hope you were ready to fight to get him in a suit. “ His voice quavers with a blend of amusement and sorrow. He could practically imagine Baji's grumbling over the suit.  “ But? “  Even if it hurts, Kazutora is curious and willingly opens the door for Chifuyu to reminisce. He will listen.  

   Whiplash hits at the abrupt change in gear, leaving Kazuora to stare in stunned silence for half a second that feels more eternity. “ Me? “ Obviously. An embarrassed flush dusts his features before he shakes his head slightly, offering a weak laugh.  “ No, you haven’t. Most people tend to find them unnerving. “ He can’t blame them for it either when he stares at himself in the mirror. Only a few people have called them pretty.  His gaze lifts back to meet Chifuyu's eyes, the corner of his lips rising slightly. "Pretty, huh?" 

   The tiger shifts in his seat to turn himself more fully towards Chifuyu, offering a quiet laugh. " Duh. As long as you want me to be at least. " 

[dramaticdads]

Something unlasting

Okay fine so maybe I ship Lark and Nick a little bit now. What’s it to you?

Pairing(s): Nick/Lark, Cassandra/Nick (not the focus)

Word count: 1960

CW: Implied sex but not mentioned or described, unresolved tensions, unhappy ending

Summary: There’s something between Lark and Nick they both refuse to name.

It started off back when they were still young. Back when their fathers were still in charge of the fight, and they all still spoke to each other every once in a while. Back when Lark and Nick went to parties together and kissed in backrooms where no one paid much attention to them.

It was inevitable, perhaps, for them to feel drawn to one another. There were few people left to connect with after a childhood trip to a fantasy world, and when one of you ended that trip as part-demon in hell. Nick might’ve felt the need to hold on to something human, and Lark might’ve felt the need to hold on to something infernal. Regardless of the reason, they often entered each other’s orbit, uninvited but not unwelcome.

Nick found himself enjoying the way Lark pulled Nick closer insistently, his grip always a little tighter than necessary, and his hair somehow both softer and messier than one would expect.

Lark found himself enjoying the comforting warmth of Nick’s human form that occasionally varied in force, enough to challenge Lark’s constitution, and the way Nick’s eyes glowed like embers.

It was infrequent for them to get so close of course, but it happened on occasion. First, when they were both too drunk to think clearly and they simply did it without acknowledging it much the day that followed. Then, when they started sending each other brief glances, that soon turned into occasional meetings in cheap hotel rooms.

“How come you never invite me to your place?” Nick had jokingly asked one time, when they were both lying next to each other on the bed.

“How come you never invite me to yours?” Lark asked, with the faintest hint of a smile.

“Eh, you know how it is,” Nick smiled back, “Hell and all. There’s too much noise down there, I doubt you want Jodie or Glenn to pry, and I’m not even sure you can genuinely survive down there for long.”

“I’m a survivor,” Lark said with the sort of wink that made Nick’s heartrate increase ever so slightly.

“But why can’t I come to yours?”

“Sparrow’s there.” Was all Lark responded with, as if that was explanation enough. It was, in a sense. Not that Sparrow couldn’t simply leave for the night or ignore the guest in Lark’s room completely. Sparrow was nothing if not respectful. Yet Lark always felt like everything Sparrow was told became so much more real and tangible than things Lark simply allowed the implicit existence of. Sparrow already knew something was going on between Lark and Nick, but Lark did not intend to have an awkward exchange with his brother, that would indicate this was something lasting.

And Nick dropped the topic quickly. It wasn’t as if he’d expected a different outcome. He enjoyed remaining as they were anyhow. In truth, lying next to Lark like that and hearing his peaceful breathing when he fell asleep, was better than most highs he’d experienced. He wasn’t sure if that was the sort of thought he should say out loud.

The older they became the more frustrating it was that they were not allowed to participate in fighting off the incursions everyone pretended they didn’t take note of at all. Lark especially had too much fight in him to contain, practicing all sorts of fighting techniques and working on tools in his and Sparrow’s apartment.

Nick sometimes remembered that Lark was the one who released the Doodler in the first place. He did not know what to make of that, wanted to ask for details, but he did not have the right to.

“Why did you do it?” he’d asked anyway, when he felt as if both of them were in a decently vulnerable position.

Lark got a distant look in his eyes, because he wasn’t even certain he fully knew why himself. He’d wanted to understand the world, wanted his brother to stop looking at him so sadly, wanted to complete a cosmic task for reasons beyond his comprehension and beyond his control. “I was a kid,” was all he replied, and cut off Nick’s next question with a kiss.

Nick’s warmth was sometimes comforting. Like being tucked underneath a warm blanket, held close and cared for, not that Lark particularly needed it. When Nick’s heartrate was high enough, the warmth would intensify and Lark would feel as if he was playing with fire, fighting back into the kisses as if it was a test of endurance. He liked that, sometimes. Needed that, even if he’d never admit to it.

Things were changing around both of them. Sparrow started having a girlfriend over, something Lark had found it difficult to imagine prior. A girlfriend who didn’t look anything like Lark had expected Sparrow’s future partner to look like, and in complete honesty, Lark had not been able to imagine Sparrow having a partner at all. And yet that was the way things went, and it seemed Sparrow was going for something more permanent, than what Lark would ever have dared to go for.

“I’m never going to have something like that,” Lark had mumbled, sitting up against a wall in the bed with Nick next to him. Lying down entirely during the exchange seemed much too personal, and he half-considered pulling out a cigarette for it to be easier to appear calmer.

Nick looked at him, as if he was trying to figure him out, an expression Lark couldn’t bring himself to feel comfortable in regardless of the context. “Why don’t you think that?” he’d asked.

“It’s not my style,” Lark replied with a nonchalant shrug, “Not worth it to get attached when the world is ending anyway.” He added, somewhat light-hearted but quiet, nonetheless.

“I suppose not.” Nick confirmed, though he felt something in his gut that was difficult to place at the words, that hadn’t entirely dissolved by the time he was alone in his bedroom in hell.

Perhaps it was ironic that Nick found a girlfriend himself just about a week later. Cassandra was gorgeous in all sorts of ways and Nick liked her soft skin and kissing her while holding her close. It was unexpected to meet her, really. Unexpected when she learned his secrets and became more than just a brief fling. When months later she became pregnant, and marriage was suddenly in the cards.

And maybe it wasn’t a future he was fully certain of, and maybe it wasn’t one Cassandra was certain of either, but Nick found that deep within himself there was some desire to be a father. Some desire to watch a kid grow up and be there for them. Some desire to come into his own too, because as of yet he was still not certain who Nick Close or Nick Foster had been, and what combination of either he had ended up becoming.

It seemed Cassandra too, wanted to be a mother. Would be good at it too. She knew more about it than Nick ever would, he felt, because his childhood had been just a little too strange for him to feel like he could be a flawless parent on his own. (But he would try, if push came to shove. He would learn everything he needed, because he had good dads and a good mom and he could figure it out regardless of the circumstances, he told himself.)

Lark had kept his distance, ever since Nick started going out with Cassandra. Politeness, most likely. Unsure what boundaries were set in place. Lark and Nick had never discussed their arrangement in detail, simply letting the encounters happen as they did, and maybe that was unfortunate now, since it meant some discussion would need to be had for Lark to stop keeping his distance entirely. Nick missed the way Lark knew exactly where to kiss him. Lark missed the warmth, and Nick’s playful smiles directed just at him (but he didn’t need either of those things, he did just fine without them, because needing someone else was a weakness Lark was far too aware of)

Nick would tell Lark that he and Cassandra had always agreed that their relationship was open. That it wasn’t an exclusive thing, even though they were talking about getting married and were due to have a kid. But bringing it up to Lark made it seem so much more permanent. Perhaps Nick should’ve taken a step back and asked before he kissed Lark again, but he’d simply approached him as he used to one day and cupped his cheek, and Lark had leaned into it without any request for clarification.

They met outside at night sometimes too, Nick lighting Lark’s cigarette daringly, the two kissing when no one was looking. Nick’s eyes seemed to glow ever so slightly in the dark, though Lark wasn’t sure if that was because Nick was a demon or other reasons that were less logical to place. Nick loved the way Lark’s stubble brushed against his cheeks.

Nick had a son. A beautiful son him and Cassandra named Taylor, and Nick felt pride and love in his heart as he saw the little boy. It was going to be okay, he thought to himself. They’d figure it out, even with the complicated mix of worlds this kid would have to grow up in.

Sparrow had kids, and Lark was around to meet them. More people to protect from the unleashed god. He continued training by himself, because the world was only going to move faster from now on.

Lark wished he hadn’t been right about that, because soon enough their fathers were out of the picture, and they became the ones who led the fight. Lark’s beard grew just a little more, and he noticed that his brother’s shoulders never quite seemed to untense. Nick’s goofy smiles became less apparent on a regular day. Lark watched Nick in his full demon form, his rage translating into a scolding sort of heat that made Lark want to draw closer. Nick watched as Lark shot effortlessly at the enemy with a dark and determined look in his eyes.

Cassandra sometimes asked about Lark, because even if Nick had never said it out loud it wasn’t as if she was unaware of the something between them. “It’s nothing serious.” Nick just said, because it couldn’t be. It wouldn’t be, because it wasn’t going to be something lasting unless a word for it was spoken out loud, and most of the time the pair preferred not to speak much at all. It was better that way. There was little time for words in the midst of battle, or in-between subtle touches, tight grips, and soft kisses.

It wasn’t lasting, and Nick would eventually be glad he never latched on to the idea that it would be.

New threats appeared; tensions grew. The world was crumbling, as if Nick was the one who set it on fire. And maybe he should’ve seen it coming. Maybe he would’ve been able to stop it if he hadn’t turned a blind eye to the so-called solutions that would cost him his life and his entire world.

Maybe then it would’ve surprised him less, hurt less, when the others pulled out the gun and Nick’s heart stopped as the cold spread from his arm to his bones in a matter of seconds.

Maybe it would’ve hurt less when Lark grabbed him by the hand for a moment, with that tight hold he always had, and Nick would’ve been able to fight back instead of quietly withdrawing his hand.

And maybe Lark wouldn’t have felt the cold from the removal of said hand more powerfully than any other sensation in the world.