#you fuckers do not get to sweep this under the rug.

[rjalker]

no, actually you are not allowed to hide my fucking reblog telling you you're being a bigot. I'm not letting you people pretend you don't know you're being bigots.

Murdernot said:

One thing I love about Murderbot is that it is such a delightfully complex character that it can be so relatable to so many different people.

Like, I recently recommended the series to two friends who are very different. One I think will like it because of the aro/ace/agender-ness and the more existential "what defines a person" aspects of it. The other I think will like it for the exploration of trauma and the horrors of capitalism and the sense of humor.

Like any good story, it has some very specific things that only some people might relate to, but also some more general, more universal aspects, and we all like it for some combination of it.

And I think even more so since Murderbot is such an unreliable narrator when it comes to its own internal experience. We have to read between the lines to see how it really feels, and everyone reads between the lines slightly differently based on our own experiences and viewpoints.

And like, because Murderbot is on a character journey where it is discovering itself, we all interpret the steps on the journey differently. Like, a lot of it is Murderbot figuring out its boundaries. There are some parts where it pushes out of its comfort zone and widens its boundaries (being out of armor/being observed, which doesn't seem to bother it nearly as much in later books), and other parts where it asserts its boundaries (like with hugs). Both of those things are important for its character growth.

And someone who is trying to assert their own boundaries might latch onto the importance of Murderbot doing the same and enjoy discussions/fanart/fanfic of people respecting those boundaries. But someone who is trying to break out of a defensive, potentially maladaptive comfort zone might really appreciate the way that Murderbot becomes more comfortable with certain things over time and might enjoy discussions/fanart/fanfiction of it learning to enjoy some things it has expressed reflexive distaste for. Both are wonderful ways of interacting with the work.

The important thing for me is that Murderbot is a (beautifully written and complex) fictional character who means different things to different people. We all connect to Murderbot slightly differently and I think that's beautiful.

My response! Because you people do not get to fucking pretend you care about aroace and touch averse people and then silence us at every turn!

The problem is there are hundreds of stories where characters are touch averse and learn to enjoy being touched because they secretly enjoy it and didn't want to admit it to themselves.

Aside from The Murderbot Diaries, there are zero stories of characters who are touch averse and do not feel any desire for touch, and actually have these boundaries respected.

I don't think people who are not solitaremit understand how absurdly ludicrously rare it is that Murderbot has its boundaries with touch respected with this series.

It is in fact ableism for people to look at this character who is touch averse and has no desire for touch, whose boundaries are always respected, and to then insist that that has to change. That it has to open up and remove its boundaries and admit it secretly enjoys being touched.

We aren't talking about vague "Be more comfortable with yourself" things here. We are talking about touch aversion. We are talking about aroace.

Do I need to explain why erasing the fact that a character is aroace and repulsed by relationships is bigoted? Do I need to explain why erasing a character who's solitaremit and has that respected is bigoted?

Apparently I do, since everyone in this fandom keeps insisting on watering these issues down into just "differences in interpretation" and "learning to be more comfortable"

Would you be okay with people writing about Murderbot learning to accept and be normal about eye contact?

Do I have to explain that being touch averse is something adults try to beat out of autistic kids?

If the issues at hand here were anything but aroaceness and touch aversion, if they were more "serious" things being erased, like being gay or if people were removing all of Murderbot's other autistic traits, would you still say they're just a minor, beautiful different in opinion?

Aroace people who are repulsed by all forms of relationships have no representation. We are demonized even in our own communities, let alone the rest of society.

Solitaremit people aren't even given shelter in the rest of the touch averse community.

Erasing the fact that Murderbot is aroace and repulsed by relationships of all kinds is bigotry. Erasing the fact that Murderbot does not enjoy touch or have any desire for it is bigotry.

Listen to aroace people when we tell you something is bigoted. Listen to touch averse people when we tell you something is bigoted.

Just because it doesn't impact you personally does not mean it's not a problem and that people literally opppressed by it should just be fine with it and let everyone continue to erase our very existance.

These books are actually doing everything right in respecting aroace people and solitaremit people.

Why is it too much to expect the fandom, who claims to love this character, to do the same?

Do you actually care about people when their experiences are not the same as yours, or do you just see our existence as internet discourse that begins and ends on tumblr.com?

If you actually give a shit about aroace people and touch averse people, then stop making posts like this that coddle those who erase us. Actually pick a side instead of trying to play the middle.

This is literal real bigotry we are talking about here. You cannot create representation by taking it away from other people.

The whole main theme of this series is that you need to respect people even when they're different from you. Why is that so hard for people who claim to love this series to accept?

Why is it okay to erase people's sexualities when it's about aroace people?

Why is it okay to overstep and overwrite people's boundaries when it's about touch averse people?

Stop fucking pretending you care about nonpartnering aroace people and solitaremit touch averse people when you fucking hide our reblogs on your post. Either fucking actually support us and stand up against bigotry or stop pretending you care.

A character that is explicitly aroace and sex repulsed, touch repulsed, platonic repulsed, and nonpartnering and is nonbinary and uses it/its pronouns and touch averse and has no desire for touch at all is not a blank slate for you to erase. Murderbot represents real living breathing people. When you erase everything that makes Murderbot who it is, you are being a bigot to the real people it represents.

[Plain text: "A character that is explicitly aroace and sex repulsed, touch repulsed, platonic repulsed, and nonpartnering and is nonbinary and uses it/its pronouns and touch averse and has no desire for touch at all is not a blank slate for you to erase. Murderbot represents real living breathing people. When you erase everything that makes Murderbot who it is, you are being a bigot to the real people it represents.". End Plain text.]

[hanasnx]

i desperately need more thoughts and ideas about baby daddy!anakin bcos why has that never crossed my mind??? that sounds so 😵‍💫

baby daddy!anakin.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: isnt it so 🫠 WARNINGS: f!reader | baby daddy!anakin | toxic behavior | sexual content: smut but not too in depth | kinks: breeding, degradation | jealousy | you and anakin have a son together | no y/n

! ── You aren't married to ANAKIN SKYWALKER, even if he asked you— begged you to. It's not the right move, it's not what you want, and you won't let him bully you into doing "the smart thing" as he calls it. It's partly his fault you got knocked up, and he's acting as if marriage will magically solve it. He's not the kind of person you can share a life with, and you're not comfortable seeing him as often as you have to when you trade off your son to him. He's learned some boundaries, keeping his distance. Unfortunately, you fell for him and all his crazy tendencies. So it was more than difficult for him to sweep them under the rug when you two split. He noted how you responded negatively to when he came over unannounced, saying it was because he missed his son, when that was guise to see you. You responded even worse when he'd barged in after he threatened to break down the door. So he learned that he won't get what he wants when he does them. Even though, at one point, you liked those things about him. You liked that he took what he wanted, and now he has to repress those urges in order to be allowed visitation to his son at all.

! ── Of course, there are things you miss about him. You don't like the idea of teaching anyone how to please you, so the easiest thing is to ask him for his assistance since he's already an expert in the field. After heavy debate, you decide to call him after a bad date. “Hello? Is everything alright?” he demands into the receiver. This untimely hour could only be explained by an emergency, and his first thought is something happened to his son. “Hey.” your response on the other line is a sigh. “Everything’s fine. Can you come over?”

! ── Once the floodgates open, it takes no time at all to unravel each other. He knew he missed you, but he didn’t realize how much until you’re a quivering mess underneath him. Your dress having been hastily ridden up around your waist so he can twist your body to meet his needs, folding your legs up as he leans on you. That fat cock you adore being driven into the deepest parts of you, kissing that spongy spot inside you exactly how you like it. No one can do it like him. As frustrating at it is. You're partly to blame for his infatuation, you can't stay away from him either. Letting him do this to you, fuck you like this, planting those seeds of need within you.

! ── When you and him first split, he couldn't know about the dates. You would avoid tipping him off about them at all costs, anything to evade his potent jealous rage. "You've walked with my child growing inside you. And some stranger thinks he lays claim over you? What about me? Does my hard work mean nothing? Must I do it again?" As if you'd make the same mistake twice, let him breed you for a second time so you're reliant on him again. Or worse, you'd make the same mistake with someone different. Does he think that little of you? You and him were just stupid kids when your son came into the picture. Neither of you knew what you were doing. You're smarter now... aren't you?

! ── Now you use your dates as leverage. Make him angry, make him fuck you harder, make him fuck you like he's never fucked you before. Talk shit about whatever guy you let hit before you called him to "clean up that fucker's mess." and how after this, you'll "kick him out like you always do. but you can't stay away from him long." He'll even degrade himself, "And I'll keep coming back too. You'll do the same damn thing next week, act like you want nothing to do with me. Treat me like a stray. Only to get soft and horny and call me to come give you a fix 'cause you can't do a thing for yourself. You're a fucking addict, you know? I'm tired of it. But I'll keep doing it, because I'm the only one who fucking will. Only one who can handle you, isn't that right?"

! ── When the entrance sounds familiarly, he opens the door to the bedroom. Shirtless, and black pants hanging low on his hips, he leaves you spent in your bed as your son gets inside and realizes who's over. Your son breaks from the babysitter's hand, sprinting towards him. "Dad!" he exclaims. He stoops, catching his son in his arms to scoop him up. "My love," he responds tenderly, cradling the back of his son's head as their cheeks press together. "You're here!" his son notes with awe. You can hear them through the walls, smacking your hand against your forehead. He wasn't supposed to let your son know he was here, the babysitter's early. Fuck, now your son is gonna insist he stay for dinner or something. That's exactly his plan, isn't it? Use your son to get closer to you.

[stormrider24]

See what I don't fucking get is how the election isn't a closed deal for some people. At some point there has to be a deal breaker, and at some point you have to realize the connections happening.

For those of you considering, or decided on, voting for Trump, hear me now; HE WILL KILL YOU. Even when we push aside the criminal trials and such, he is a threat. If you are a woman, he will kill you. If you are non-white, he will kill you. If you are queer, he will kill you. If you are disabled, he will kill you. If you are a non-rich person, he will kill you. He wants so many people dead just for existing, and everyone else he'll sweep under the rug. This is true of EVERY GOP candidate.

For those of you who don't want to vote for Biden, because you've got a third-party on your mind, or you're just not going to vote, hear me now: That is EXACTLY how we get Trump in office. Look at the numbers, look at the patterns. Every time there's a lower voter turnout, the GOP wins. People that want Trump in office are going to turn out in droves, and they're counting on YOU fuckers not showing up.

For those of you who don't want to vote for Biden for a more specific reason, think for a second. You have two options. One of them won't do the thing you want. The other will ACTIVELY SHUT DOWN the thing you want and make it HARDER TO GET. The genocide in Palestine? Trump will be worse. Roe V. Wade? Trump is the one that overturned that. Queer rights? Trump will take more of them away.

"But what has Biden REALLY done for--" have you looked? Or have you just not heard it on the media? Trust me, nobody wants to talk about it. Go search up what Biden's done in the last term. You'll find a shit ton of economic work, protection laws for your chosen group, environmental protection, and plenty more. And you are allowed to be unsatisfied with what Biden is doing in some areas! His support for Israel is unjustifiable, and he certainly COULD be doing more in some areas. But these are your choices; This old codger, or the other one.

And for anyone still not really wanting to go vote for Biden, it's not just the Oval Office chair you're voting for; it's practically the entire government at that level. House and Senate seats, Supreme Court seats, all sorts of shit. This goes much deeper than Which Old Man Do You Like. Treat it as such.

[dilfdoctordoom]

Genuinely torn between my hatred for the Inhumans and my hatred for synergizing Kamala rn.

Like, I haven’t liked the Inhumans since I watched Agents of Shield back before I was a comics person. They were obvious replacements for the X Men but without their superpowers or physical forms being inherent, which was always less compelling to me as a metaphor for an oppressed people. Then I started reading comics, saw that they were a eugenics-based society that tried to genocide mutants via GASSING THEM and weren’t treated as the obvious villains, and for the first time understood why comics fans hated the movies. I genuinely despise these fuckers.

HOWEVER, none of that hate applies to Ms. Marvel. Kamala Khan was always an interesting character to me because she felt like an Inhuman having to deal with both IRL discrimination and the consequences of Unhumans VS X Men, especially with younger Cyclops on the Champions. Fridging her in the worst Spider-Man story since ODM is never going to be okay, and bringing her back as a mutant, even if it doesn’t retcon her Inhuman past, is obvious MCU synergy at best and actively trying to sweep her past characterization under the rug at worst.

TL;DR I hate all of this so much

Inhumans are always so complicated 'cause Marvel never knows what to do with them & it's ended up really funny... they were best used in the Disney Ultimate Spider-Man TV series like that's embarassing....

I don't like them as a concept, but I do love some of the individual characters. Black Bolt has had some amazing stories over the years, Crystal is my cheating awful terrible wife <3 & Kamala is just...

Kamala is one of the most groundbreaking characters made in the past twenty, maybe 30, years. She's also a very rare character in that, despite the numerous runs she's had, they've had a consistent basis of quality. Some of them are absolutely fucking amazing (GWW) while others are just okay -- but unlike Spider-Man, Green Lantern, Daredevil, Wonder Woman, Batman, etc, she hasn't gotten a run that made me wanna claw my eyes out.

Until now, of course. The MCU synergy beam hit her as we all knew it would, but it feels... worse, IDK. I'd worried it was coming with her Beyond the Limits mini (its release was a lot closer to her TV series) but it didn't, it's here now, and that is, again, much worse.

She got horrifically fridged in a nonsensical story. Her family bangles - of great personal importance to her Pakistani family -- have seemingly gone to Mary Jane Watson, of all fucking people. Her death's being used to further the redemption arc of Norman Osborn, a man that canonically idolizes Hitler. She died to continue the Peter Parker Is Sad jerk circle.

And now she gets to come back, having part of her identity stripped away in favor of a new one (I know what Iman Vellani has said-- I expect that to last this mini/however long she writes the character). Debuting her as a mutant at all isn't great, but right now is worse.

X-Comics are gearing up for Fall of X, their next big shift/event. The focus is going to be there, not on Kamala.

I genuinely believe that we'll be lucky if she's cameoing in background appearances by next year, only getting random minis to coincide with her MCU movies/shows.

There are just... no redeeming qualities here. I can't even be excited about Iman Vellani, somebody who so clearly adores everything about Ms Marvel, writing for her 'cause honestly? I don't think it matters how much you love a character over at Marvel. There's always going to be a stupid editorial mandate.

[maeve-is-annoying-about-books]

House of Leaves, Chapter 7

Holloway Roberts, the big fuck-off manly man. That's at least his impression in this chapter.

Chapter 7 here deems to deal heavily in manliness and infidelity and threat. I can't really speak to machismo, I don't really get it. When I see Navidson and Holloway beefing over their perceived roles or alpha-fights or whatever you wanna call them it strikes me the same as any other time I see it. Like, why? You hired the man to explore your hell-hole expanse of literary symbolism, let him. Johhny has interludes here, though, and you can bet he's in thematically similar situations. This one¹ here about his relationship with his father and his bully troubles almost perfectly reflects Will and Holloway, but even more pressingly, Chad. Fighting in school, getting caught in the lines of battle of machismo, with authority. Of course it's just like the book. My man Johnny is becoming the damn book.

It's... really distressing to see what's happening to the kids² while all this focus and effort goes into that hole in the house. Daisy having scabs on her wrists is highly concerning at best and heartbreaking at worst. Though the turn of phrase, "Chad turns out to be the most problematic." was to reading what sticking a fork in my toaster is to my nervous system. Fuck. Not only does it perfectly, insidiously sweep these tiny quiet scabs under the rug, it paints Chad as a problem. An ongoing issue that needs to be solved. And everyone is so damn obsessed with the mystery that both of these fall off to the side.

The book loves doing this. While the house grows, Daisy, Chad, and Karen's literary presence shrinks. It's surreal how little notice goes to them. In writing, in the world of the story, in the literal number of words attributed to them. I find no shock at all in how this final revelation about Karen happens at the end of this chapter, written as thought it were already said and done. Like I'm watching from Will's editing room.

Karen's... yeah let's just call it infidelity for now. It's strange and striking. I feel like I'm getting gaslit a tiny bit. While earlier in the book she was mildly defended from other critics' opinions on her³, and although she was all too thrilled to see Will again⁴, now the promiscuity of a make-out session is such a large focus? Maybe I'm going mad, I fully admit I may have had an erroneous image and that these passages are the real intent. But I sure feel... Like I'm watching an author change this character's role. Shift her being a bit for better drama. And worse still is I think this is entirely intentional. The house... is warping her. The grander house. The bigger, more labyrinthine... house.

Also yeah yeah, we know you fuck, Johnny. His interlude here⁵ deals with infidelity too. That of Kyrie and a few passionate, drug-laden moments. He is once again the mirror by which we better understand the Navidson/Green family. Thrill, danger, mastery, the allure of it all. The entire chapter's rank with it like some kind of musk. No wonder the house and the formatting are both staying polite. We're prepared for it and we're sitting in this stewing tension instead.

Well, now I'm just waiting to see what becomes of Exploration 4 and this gun Holloway—

Is this fucker's name HALLWAY ROBBER?

[darkmimic0515]

The  Genetic testing laws in Israel were put into place in 2000 not November of 2023.  And the idea behind it  is skeptical at best, due to the underline reasoning. Why deny DNA test from reputable sources and only allow it by the Israeli ministry of health if it's only about "user safety"?  Especially if Israeli citizens needing clearance by the government when their abroad?  If this wasn't about keeping the facade of a blood tie to the land then there shouldn't be strict rules for Israeli people living in other countries. 

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3960049/

not you trying to lecture me on my own ethnicity's past lol, but for real, the patronizing behavior doesn't help you're case. As citing nazi Germany demand for an ethnostate as if that isn't something that Zionist Israel is also doing, since their own prime minister stated that Israel is "the national state, not of all its citizens, but only of the Jewish people." And do you want to get into Israel's  "nation-state bill" which sounds extremely like a foundation for an enthostate. As it discards the native population aka, Palestinians. And anyone considered non Jewish.

https://read.dukeupress.edu/critical-times/article/4/3/565/294168/Israel-s-Nation-State-LawHierarchized-Citizenship

https://www.npr.org/2018/07/19/630368973/israel-passes-controversial-law-reserving-national-self-determination-for-jews

https://www.npr.org/2019/03/11/702264118/netanyahu-says-israel-is-nation-state-of-the-jewish-people-and-them-alone

 Aside from the fact that religion really shouldn't be talked about. Since one, once again. There was a mix of both Jewish, Muslim and Christians living in Palestinian before 1948.  We should refocus  this conversation but before we do that

I really like the good old generalization of a group of people you consider lower then yourself. Typical Zionist mindset, can't wait for the "it should have been you in the oven" comment. Surprising when we talk about Israelis, Zionist like yourself would say "don't judge the people for the crimes of the government" when it comes to you and the rest of the isrealis defending genocide. But as soon as the topic is muslims suddenly you guys can't blur the line.  honor killings and violence again women are also in Jewish communities and by you continue to perpetuate myths that sweep domestic abuse in Jewish homes under the rug. You are being anti semitic.

.

.

.

love how you call it anti semitic yet give no reason to. Also DAVID FUCKING DUKE...that fucker is who you trust. Actually any KKK member, ex or not, you're going to side with? The group who believed in white supremacy, and that race mixing is bad. You're going to side with him when it comes to the theory that Jews might have a connection to Europe. Again Zionist like you have been spoiled in your delusions for so long you actually think what you say is real. 

next your first link is the only link that works. And straight off the bat this is a bias, opinion piece from forbes...let that sit for a moment. After that the other link is fascinating, since once again does not refute the point that the creation of isreal was due to European jews. 

All in all, there's no point in arguing with a Zionist. I believe the indigenous people of the land shouldn't be mass murdered by Europeans. You think that just because you fell for anti semitic rhetoric and misinterpreting the Torah that you can massacre thousands and thousands of people. I actually have morals, you have narcissistic white supremacy wrapped in an ethnic bow. But I digress one day there will be Nuremberg trials for Zionist like you. And we will all cheer. 

[thoughtsbeewild]

Question: Why didn't the company fire that evil female snake director earlier? Cant believe it took the company this long to fire her.

I was looking at her work history profile at the site.

If this wasnt company red flag:

She started as a specialist one year, then promoted year after year. Till the director. But each director position held for prior companies the duration was only 8 months to a year. Why is that? There is a reason why the director has held this position for more than 5 years. So she lasted with this company for 1 year few months minus the FMLA leave of absence which in her case taking SHAMELESS SELFIES ONLINE, POSTING QUOTES THIS COMEBACK IS PERSONAL. COMEBACK IS THAT YOUR FIREDD BITCH!!!

HOW MANY PEOPLE I SPOKE TO SO THRILLED ABOUT IT?

REAL TIME REPONSES:

ITS ABOUT FUCKING TIME

KARMA IS A BITCH ISNT IT

YOU GET WHAT YOU DERSERVE

A JUMP FOR YES, AS A TOUCHDOWN ON A FOOTBALL OR BASKETBALL TEAM

BITCH IS FINALLY GONE

CANT WAIT TILL HER BEST FRIEND SUPERVISOR IS FIRED AND TERMINATED

WAS SHE INVESTIGATED? HOPE THEY FOUND ALOT SHADY SHIT SHE WAS DOING BEHIND PEOPLE BACK. THE POWER/TITLE OF ABUSE OF HER DIRECTOR ROLE

MY THING ..WHEN SHE WAS ON LEAVE ON ABSENCE, NEXT STEP IN TITLE WILL HAVE ACCESS TO ALL YOUR EMAILS AND PRESIDENTS WILL HAVE MORE ACCESS TO MORE THINGS. DID THEY FIND SHADY DOCUMENTATION SHE WAS DOING GETTING PEOPLE FIRED, GETTING PEOPLE TO QUIT? DID THE COMPANY FIND THAT SHE WAS HELPING HER BITTER FRIENDS TO GET PEOPLE THEY DIDNT LIKE CANT STAND (IM ONE OF THEM) FIRED OR MAKE THEM RESIGN?

BAD APPLES DO EXIST ON THIS EARTH. WHETHER YOU HAVE NOT ENGAGED IN IT OR BEEN ENVIRONMENT OR YOUR STUCK INSIDE YOUR BOX OF COMFORT TO KNOW THIS. WELL IF YOU WANT TO EXPERIENCE LIFE, THIS IS WHAT REAL LIFE IS. A BUNCH OF BITCHES WHO GET PROMOTED ABUSES THIER POWER TITLE TO FEAR EMPLOYEES, MANAGERS(MANAGERS FAMILIES AND THIER KIDS), SOME GOOD SUPERVISORS NOT ALL TO TERMINATE OR FORCE ABSOLUTE MISERY TO ONES THEY DONT LIKE. THEY WILL TWIST SHIT IN AN EMAIL AS IF YOU SAID IT, AND HEY I TOLD YOU THREE TIMES. THREE TIMES IS CONSIDERED A 3 TIME REPLY IN 3 HOURS. SHE WOULD TRY WRITE YOU UP FOR INSUBORDIANCE OF DEFYING THE LEADER AND HER EVIL SUPERVISOR, WITH THE SUPERVISOR FAMILY FRIENDS, AND RECRUITING ON BOARD DIRECTORS FRIENDS WHO ARE ON HER FACEBOOK, THATS HOW I KNOW. THE PORTAL OF SOCIAL MEDIA GET YOU ANSWERS.

IT TOOK THE COMPANY SO LONG BECAUSE I BET THE REVENUE PROFIT WAS NOT BEING RECIEVED TO THE INVESTORS, THEN WENT DIRECTLY IN PRESIDENTS EAR, LIKE HEY WHERE THE MONEY. TALKING PERSON WHO JUST QUIT THE COMPANY BECAUSE EVIL DIRECTOR AND HER SUPERVISOR FRIEND ASKING THEM TO CLEAN UP 1 MILLION DOLLARS WORTH OF SHIT THAT WAS DONE INCORRECTLY BY DIRECTOR EMPLOYEES FRIENDS WHO THEY PROTECT, S, S J. HOW THESE OLD WOMEN FUCKER EMPLOYEES GET AWAY WITH SHIT LIKE THIS WITH THE DIRECTOR AND SUPERVISOR? WHY COULDNT COMPANY REALIZE INVESTMENT THEY ARE MAKING ON HIRING TERRIBLE EMPLOYEES WHO JUST WANT A PAYCHECK TO SURVIVE? YOUR NOT THERE TO HELP THE BUSINESS, OTHERWISE PEOPLE ON OTHER TEAMS WOULDNT HAVE DO THE DOUBLE WORK AND DOUBLE SHIT TO CLEAN UP YOUR WORK. SO THE COMPANY NEEDS START FIRING SUPERVISOR AND THOSE EMPLOYEES, START MAKING CHANGE NOW!!! OTHERWISE THAT COMPANY WILL RESULT IN LAYOFF'S AND DESTRUCTION. BUT AS FOR ME, STAYING SILENT WHILE THINGS UNFOLD.

MY THINKING OUT LOUD THOUGHTS ARE HERE TO SHARE FOR LIVE HUMAN SHIT GOING ON IN THIS WORLD OF ENCOUNTER BAD HIRED PEOPLE WHO GET AWAY WITH SHIT? HOW DO FAKE ASS NICE KINDESS ON THE OUTSIDE OF HUMAN SKIN AND ON INSIDE EVIL ENOUGH GET AWAY AND SWEEP THAT SHIT UNDER THE RUG? THE COMPANY IS STILL PROVIDING YOU A PAYCHECK. SOMETHING WRONG WITH COMPANY. COMPANY NEEDS TO OPEN THIER FUCKING EYES...

[storiesforallfandoms]

assistant ~ roman godfrey;hemlock grove

word count: 1471

request?: no

description: when you start a new job as the assistant of a huge company, the ceo takes an interest in you

pairing: roman godfrey x female!reader

warnings: swearing, harassing remarks

masterlist (one, two)

“And here is the main floor,” said the lady giving me a tour of Godfrey Industries. “This is where you’ll be doing most of your work, but it’s good to know the building in case Mr. Godfrey ever asks you to get something for him.”

“What’s he like?” I asked her. It was the first time my future employer had been mentioned and I had yet to meet him.

She paused a moment before turning to face me. She was suddenly the most serious she had been all day. “He can be a little short tempered sometimes. He has gone off on some of his employees sometimes. If he ever does to you, do not hesitate to come to me for it, alright?”

That sounded reassuring.

I followed her towards Mr. Godfrey’s office, my heart hammering against my chest.

“Mr. Godfrey?” she said as she knocked at the door. “Your new assistant is here.”

“Bring her in.”

She opened the door and nodded for me to go in first. I hoped neither one of them would see how bad my hands were shaking.

I was shocked to see how young he was. Of course, I knew Mr. Godfrey was no more than 21 years old and took over the family business right out of high school, but I didn’t expect someone so young and handsome to be sat behind that desk.

His blue eyes lifted from whatever he was writing and landed on me. I shuffled under his gaze, wondering what was running through his mind as he looked at me.

“Mr. Godfrey, this is (Y/F/N),” she introduced. “She’ll be working as your new assistant.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Godfrey,” I said, trying to keep my voice as even as possible.

“Please, we’re basically the same age,” he said. “Call me Roman. Is it alright if I address you by your first name, too?”

I was so stunned that I could barley get my words out. “Y-Yes, that’s-that’s okay.”

He smiled at me and I felt like my whole body would melt into the floor.

“It’s nice to meet you (Y/N). I can’t wait to work together.”

~~~~~~

The first few days were nothing exciting, mainly running a few errands for Roman. We were rarely ever alone together, which I was a little disappointed by. I knew it was wrong to have these sort of thoughts about my boss, but I couldn’t help it. He was so handsome and charming.

I was at my desk secretly scrolling through my phone when the intercom chimed, signaling Roman was about to speak.

“(Y/N), can you bring the papers regarding the mill in for me?”

“Right away Roman.”

I grabbed the file labelled Godfrey Industries Mill and brought it down to the conference room where I knew Roman was in a meeting.

The moment I walked in I froze again. There were so many official looking business men sat around the table, now they were all looking at me. I smiled awkwardly before crossing the room to pass the file to Roman.

“Thank you (Y/N),” he said as he took it.

“New assistant, Roman?” one of the men asked.

“Yeah, she just started,” Roman responded, barley regarding the man who spoke.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Roman glared briefly at him before saying, “(Y/N), these are some of my business partners.”

I smiled at them and shuffled uncomfortably when I noticed how they were looking at me. I had heard the jokes about business men and their assistants, but I never believed them. That would be a massive HR issue, right?

But the way these men were looking at me...I wanted to shrink behind Roman for protection.

“I bet you're having a fantastic time with her,” another man commented. “You’ve broken her in already, right Rom?”

“The innocent ones are always the best in the sack,” another added.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes as they all laughed. I was willing myself to move, but I was stuck in place.

The sound of Roman’s hands slamming down on the desk caused me to jump as he stood from his seat. His face was blood red and he looked ready to explode.

“Get the fuck out,” he hissed.

“What?” one of the men questioned.

“I said get the fuck out! All of you!” For good measure, he threw the file at the first man who spoke, narrowly avoiding his face. “Forget the fucking mill deal, forget any fucking deal. I’m not doing business with you disgusting excuse for men anymore!”

They were all shocked, but knew better than to fight against Roman. They all left, grumbling to themselves and calling Roman a handful of names.

We were left alone. Roman sat back down, running his hands through his hair.

“Do..do you want me to...?” I started, gesturing towards the papers that had scattered from the thrown file.

“No,” he responded, his voice softer now. “I’ll take care of it. You take a break, a prolonged one if you need.”

I nodded and quickly left the room, hoping all the business men had left the building entirely as I raced for the nearest bathroom to hide for a while.

~~~~~~

I was on my own in the lobby area when a cup of coffee and a picture perfect sprinkled donut was placed in front of me. I looked up from my computer to see Roman sipping from his own cup, his breathtaking eyes gazing down at me.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave,” he said. “I didn’t check before I got both of those for you.”

“I appreciate it,” I said, taking the cup and the donut. “I still had some stuff I needed to  do, I couldn’t go home early.”

“I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to.”

I took a sip of my coffee, not wanting to respond. Truthfully, I had thrown myself so heavily into my work to keep the disgusting words said by Roman’s business partners out of my head.

I had never been spoken to in such a way before. I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I’d been spoken to in such a way, but it still made me feel dirty and wrong when I thought about it. Like I was nothing more than some eye candy for business men who were old enough to be my father (except for Roman).

Roman continued to lean against the desk, looking down at me as I diverted my attention back to my computer.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” he said. “Those fuckers are a little too...stereotypical.”

I shook my head, trying to downplay my feelings on the situation. “It’s alright. I appreciate you standing up for me, but I’m sorry if it ruins your business relations or whatever.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I could give less of a fuck. They're all assholes anyways. They only use me for money and power for their bullshit projects. And what they did to you was far from alright. It was wrong, and I hope you know I’m not going to tolerate you being treated like that. Not now, not ever.”

I nodded and took another sip of my coffee, unsure as to what else to say. I was shocked that the situation had made Roman so angry. I mean, I was glad people treating me so poorly made him upset and he wasn’t about to sweep this under the rug, but to cut business ties just for me? I was still trying to figure that part out.

Silence fell over us again and I wondered how long Roman would be stood there watching me. Not that I really minded. This was the first time we had been alone.

“Listen,” he said, “this may be incredibly inappropriate to ask, but I’d love to take you out for dinner some time.”

I looked up at him in shock. “Like...like a date?”

“Or a work dinner, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

I didn’t have to think about my answer, but I didn’t want to come off as too eager, so I thought for a moment before responding, “I’d like that.”

Roman smiled back at me. “Okay. You know my schedule, you can pick a time and a date that’s best for you.”

He turned to leave before pausing and turning back to me. “Just to be clear, are you saying you’d like it as a date or as a work dinner.”

I smiled smugly at him and responded, “You’ll have to wait to find out.”

He raised an eyebrow at me, amused, before walking back to his office. When I was sure he was gone, I did a quick dance of excitement in my chair before turning my full attention back to my work.

[lizandbo]

Kirishima thoughts/ headcanons

- ok i know I haven’t posted ina while but efhlbkfnD:MWefknrljbkeh

- i depressed

- but anyway, ya know how he gels his hair and crap like that

- welp when he gets into the shower with you, like, isn’t eveything gonna be slimy n shit??

- also i felt like he drew on his skin as a kid, but then one peep told him that it Could cause like those cancer cells to activate, so you would be more prone to have cancer

- and he would be scared shitless after that and never did that again

- one time he held the door for you but he was like holding the door from his finger tips

- so like the door would smash right into your faceXD

- he felt like his ass should be buried into the fucking soil cuz he felt super bad

- all this baby wanted to do is hold the god damn door for ya but look! You have a bloody nose

- okokok, look I’m gonna say, i feel... I COULF FYKCING FEEEEELLL IT IN MY SHINY ASS MCFUCKING BONES

- that this little man cant sleep with out a fucking fan

- idk know why, i don’t make the fucking rules in this house

- a lil bit but hush

- ya know how like, he loves meat? Well, were guessing that he makes like protein shakes

- he would so try to make a meat milkshake

- and holy shit his face is fucking priceless

- a lot of times were he makes his smoothies and stuff, he would scare himself almost knocking his cold ass body to the floor with a most terrified lookin kirishima

- i feel like he would be good buddy at the grocery store and other shopping sprees

- his favorite store is Home Depot. I dunno why he likes the space of it

- but oh my fucking god, i almost completely forgot about this dirty ass name inside my teeny tiny brain(smaller than a rats)

- DICKS

- SPORTING

- FUCKIN

- GOOOOODDS

- he loves it, working machines? Passed the fuck out

- also, ya know how Kirishima kinda just explained he was a emo kid just right outa of this sentence

- like when they were exploring tokoyamis room, then kirishima held up this weird looking keychain thingy and said he had the same thang? Yep! That’s his phase right there

- he def had a identity crisis

- loved hotopic holy shit i cant explain how much thos kid loved that mfing shoop

- now its dicks!

- oh dear that sounded..urrm..i- nevermindXD

- he tears up in a good action packed movie

- “those people.. so manly, going into th battle like that!”

- when he’s typing, he’s like playing fucking Pictionary but with emojis

- also when he gets to be like... 18-19 years old.. i mean dont get me wrong he has normal sized hands but i feel like when he gets around the 18 years old age, its gonna be like 0.0

- his hands are gonna growwww

- so its gonna be harder for him to type

- also, one of those fuckers when he uses the toilet, he leaves it open

- I’m sorry but i just have a problem with that ok? Ok

- also i feel like his family are like... a sweep it under the rug kinda family..ya know?

- has broken chairs when he was little, cuz he didnt have much control wit his quirk

- he also always was drinking apple juice and orange juice, and when he is done, he is always running out of breath

- likes Buffalo Wild Wings cuz ya know he loves them meat:)

[morsartis]

The Tweet Part 2

You’d been scrambling to work with Tagora and the others to come up with a way to cover Marvus’ blunder. It wasn’t like you could sweep it underneath the metaphorical rug or anything, it’d have to be addressed at some point, and soon if you wanted to avoid a good deal of the drama. As it stood, you’d both have to do an interview. A strictly regulated interview, of course, but an interview nonetheless. Something about salvaging your images. Not like you had an image to salvage. Marvus was the star here and you were just the friendly human. Never before had you been so happy for having only the most dumbass shit on your accounts paired with enough vague nonsense no one would look deeper than ‘bumbling newbie to concert got lucky and swept into a whirlwind romance’. The type of shit every fan wished would happen to them. 

A perfect cover.

You might even be able to save your privacy if you played up the newbie act. It wouldn’t exactly be hard. In all honesty you didn’t pay much attention to Marvus’ work other than that first concert and whatever he deigned important enough to share with you. Mostly your thoughts on cover art for albums. You were his human sounding board when it came to those things. Other than the odd question you were just along for the ride. The two of you had built your relationship outside of the limelight which is another reason it had lasted longer than his other relationships. You were his break from stardom and as far as you were concerned Marvus was just another troll. One with plenty of perks but still just an ordinary person. So, it wouldn’t be hard to play the idiot in this. Even if you knew exactly what you were stepping into at the start of this relationship.

Absorbed in your own share of work going through the preplanned script for a, now inevitable, interview you didn’t hear the lock on your door click or the muffled squeak of the front door’s rusting hinges. No, as you grumbled and griped to no one in particular about idiot juggalos and how you were going to beat them with their own clown shoes- Marvus was free to slip in quietly and stand in the doorway of the living room where you were typing away. If you had seen him and the smug little smile on his face you would have launched a pillow at his face no mercy. But he had every right to be smug. He’d been debating dropping hints about your relationship for some time now. The only reason he’d held back for so long was because it meant throwing you into the middle of the lion’s den. He simply couldn’t bring himself to do that to you. It was why he’d caved so quickly to his PR team’s demands. If they wanted to keep the relationship private then he had no qualms with it. Having you all to himself was a welcomed distraction from everything he put out in the open to please his fans. You weren’t one of the screaming masses, not some simple fan who wanted to claw their way into his life, you were simply his. You never saw him as Marvus The Performer, you saw him as Marvus The Person. Marvus your matesprit. Though, he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity now that it was out in the open. He wouldn’t ever have to pretend to be a concerned friend when people blatantly flirted with you. Wouldn’t have to play off his jealousy as simple attention seeking. You were his matesprit and those fuckers were lucky he didn’t straight out attack them. He would have been well within his rights to do it. Messiah’s knew he’d come close to throwing caution to the wind when it came to you. Only an idiot would try for a red quad with you now that Marvus was in the picture. It made him smile. 

“You gonna stand there like the cat who ate the canary or are you gonna help me fix this?” You huffed when you finally noticed him. He had the decency to look a little sheepish as he plopped down on the couch to read over the shit show his team was trying to wrangle into submission. 

“You know I wasn’t doin’ that shit on purpose right?” He asked after a moment of nothing but the cold shoulder. Usually you were happy to greet him with a smile and a kiss when he stopped by. Something he looked forward to every time he got to see you. Now you were too absorbed in work to offer him more than a glance. Your fingers slowed and the rapid tapping dwindled to nothing as you sighed. 

“I know, honestly I’m impressed we kept it under wraps this long.” You gave a small chuckle and shook your head. There was a hint of a smile playing on your lips and it made Marvus relax. As long as you weren’t truly angry with him he’d be fine. And you weren’t- not really- a little miffed but nothing serious. Seeing him relax and start grinning in that smug way again reminded you of your earlier promise though. With no warning you smacked him once- as hard as you could- in the arm. It’d do little more than shock him- the bastard. As predicted he jumped and swiveled his head to look at you in surprise. 

“Wh-,”

You didn’t give him the moment to speak as you glanced away long enough from your work to give him a kiss. He blinked at you silently until it caught up to him and a lazy grin spread across his face. Turning back to the laptop you felt his arms snake around you and ever so carefully drag you closer to him. You had a feeling you weren’t going to be getting much done now as he pressed a kiss just behind your ear. 

[funkyhanji]

Daddy's Perfect Cock-Slut [English | BNHA]

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia (@Horikoshi Kohei) Character(s): Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Shouto Pairing(s): EnjiSho Rating: E Word count: 3528 CWs: Shota, Underage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Grooming, Mind Manipulation, Childhood Trauma, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Begging, Rough Sex, Large Cock, Cock Worship, Cock Cages, Cock-Slut Shouto, Creampie, Implied/Referenced Father/Daughter Incest, Dissociation, Dirty Talk, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Summary: - That green-haired runt [...] knew nothing about Shouto. Or about Enji. Or about their relationship and how it functioned. -

Enji's annoyed. That green-haired runt reminded him too much of All Might, with his self-righteous attitude and acting like it's his duty to go sticking his nose into someone else's business, unwanted and spewing corny bullshit. Did that kid even know who he was talking to in that way?

His Shouto doesn't need help from a kid who can't even properly control his quirk. He knew nothing about Shouto. Or about Enji. Or about their relationship and how it functioned.

[*]

It took two days for Enji to notice Shouto's catatonic state and lifeless stare. He'd been busy dealing with the paperwork necessary to hospitalize his wife after her psychotic breakdown and her attack on their youngest child. Also the press — keeping the nosy fuckers away from his family problems was of utmost importance. Good thing he showered his PR staff and lawyers in money.

It was a comment from Fuyumi which had clued Enji in on the boy's ghost-like presence around the house.

Shouto, excused from school for a couple of weeks after the incident, would be seen wandering the halls in a daze; he'd often gravitate to the kitchen or his mother's bedroom, and stay there for indefinite amounts of time. He only moved when someone nudged him out of the rooms.

His son, he also came to notice quickly, was very responsive to commands in that state. As if his brain was more than happy to be given directions or orders to follow.

Any sort of command.

«Stop right there, Shouto,» Enji ordered one day, seeing the boy walking down the corridor in front of his open studio door. Shouto did as told, making Enji hum, curiosity piqued. «Come in Shouto, and close the door.»

His son obeyed, standing just past the threshold, his face devoid of any real expression and a haunted look in his eyes. It was disconcerting, Enji had to admit, but the cooperativeness was pleasing after all the reluctance to follow directives Shouto had shown since they'd begun his training.

«Come to me, boy,» he said, waving him over. «And speak, I'm tired of you playing mute.»

Shouto slowly crossed the distance, halting beside the chair Enji was sitting in. «Father.» His voice was scratchy from disuse and a bit dull, but it was still an improvement over the contempt it held before.

Something could be bettered though.

«Call me 'Daddy', boy,» he ordered.

«Yes, Daddy.»

The word sent a shiver down Enji's spine. Something wicked and dark—a desire to claim what was his on the most base level — awakening inside him for the first time in months, maybe years. Rei wasn't here to stop him, this time; she wasn't here to distract him with her own body, or to send Fuyumi his way in her stead.

Shouto was all his for the taking, now.

«Your Mommy was taken away because of you, Shouto. And since you're the reason she's not here anymore, it'll be your job to do everything Mommy did for Daddy. Do you understand, Shouto?»

«Yes, Daddy. I'll do everything Mommy did for Daddy, because it's my fault she was taken away.»

The smirk slashing through his face was nothing but sinister.

«Good boy.»

They were in Rei's bedroom, alone and with the door locked. It wasn't necessary, frankly: his and his wife's rooms were on a different side of the house from his kids', and none of them were about to come looking for him, not after dinner anyway.

Enji had come out of the bathhouse to find Shouto once again in his mother's room, gaze lost like a kicked puppy.

Defenseless. Adrift.

And Enji was there, because it was easy to take advantage of a traumatized child when you use the excuse of providing him with an anchor, a grounding touch.

He spread out Rei's futon on the tatami mats — a half-empty bottle of lube rolled out of it as well —, sat down with his legs loosely crossed in front of him and reached out a hand toward Shouto. His other hand undoing the knot of the towel at his hips.

«Here, Shouto, come sit in my lap,» Enji ordered.

«Yes, Daddy.» Shouto plopped down in the circle his legs made, back straight and blinking slow, breath even.

He didn't protest when Enji took his hand in a gentle hold, brushing a large thumb over the white knuckles; he didn't protest when Enji cradled the bandaged side of his face in his other hand. He didn't try to back away, as Enji coaxed his jaws open and delved two thick fingers inside, the rough pads gliding over a soft tongue and gums. Back and forth, deeper at each passage and full of intent.

A flush began to creep onto Shouto's cheeks; his breath humid as it puffed over the back of Enji's hand, a spark flickering to light in his uncovered eye.

He brought his son's hand toward his groin, pleased to see him follow the movement, gaze focusing on the swelling cock nestled in dark crimson curls. A shiver coursed through Shouto's thin frame as his fingers made contact, a sigh escaping parted pale-pink lips.

«Daddy...» Shouto whispered, muffled by Enji's digits still in his mouth.

«Go on Shouto,» Enji said, letting his hand fall from the boy's face, setting it at his slim waist. «You remember what to do, right?»

Shouto nodded, too lost in the moment to respond verbally, but it was fine.

Enji picked up the lube, squirting some in the boy's palm. Cold fingers wrapped around his length — barely long enough to circle the girth of it even when limp — and stroked, the touch tentative, trembling but growing surer at each pass. The push and pull of the foreskin as it glided over the head, the stiffening of the cock under his fingertips seemed to entice Shouto. His pupil dilated the harder Enji got, the blush on his face darkening at each of Enji's pleased hums.

«Good, Shouto,» Enji praised. He groaned when his son's other hand joined in the stroking, the dual sensation of hot and cold enclosing his cock feeling nice on his burning skin. «Put more strength into it, boy.»

«Yes… Daddy,» Shouto whispered, sounding winded as his whole body shifted with his movements. Sweat started beading at his hairline from the extersion and the heat radiating off of Enji.

«Remember, Shouto, this is your duty now. Taking care of my needs, of my cock, is your responsibility.»

«… Because it's my... fault Mommy's not… here anymore...»

«That's right.» Enji smirked, dripping corruption and lust unbecoming of a hero. «Get your mouth down there, c'mon. Like I told you.»

Once the bandages came off his face and Shouto was cleared by the doctor to go back to school, the vacancy in his stare finally began to recede day by day. He no longer wandered around the house like a ghost and he talked more often, as stilted and curt as his sentences were.

A positive thing, according to the majority of people Enji spoke to — a phrase which never failed to make him raise an eyebrow. He could understand such naivety from Fuyumi, but from adults who should know better than to sweep PTSD and trauma under the rug? Bullshit. They were just trying to appease him, Endeavor, the #2 Hero.

They were lucky that worked perfectly for Enji.

He could do without the new-found sparks of defiance in Shouto's eyes whenever they crossed paths or trained in the dojo, sure, but in was worth it when all the fight bled out of his tiny frame at the first glimpse of Enji's cock. He knew playing his hand while the boy was in a malleable state would be beneficial in drilling some key concepts in his brain.

«That was weak, Shouto! Fuyumi could have punched harder than that!» Enji reprimanded, eyes narrowed in Shouto's direction at his poor attitude.

He received a glare from the other side of the dojo, Shouto then kicking the dummy in the dick with an angry yell. Enji almost rolled his eyes at the display, but a sudden groan caught his attention.

«Ah— nnh…!»

Shouto was squirming where he stood, face pinched in discomfort and the heel of one hand carefully rubbing at his groin. Ah, Enji thought, it's the cage isn't it. Of course it was — it'd been only a week since Enji had put it on Shouto; he wasn't used to it yet.

«Stop touching it, Shouto,» Enji said. «It won't help—»

«Shut up! Take it off of me!»

Enji stood up, growling low and stalking toward his son. He gripped a fistful of bi-colored hair and shoved Shouto's face into his crotch none too gently, grinding him against his clothed, soft cock. Any protest died quickly. A breathy moan warming Enji's bulge, which twitched in interest as Shouto nudged his nose further into the crease between his thigh and pelvis.

«I told you not to touch the cage, Shouto,» Enji said, looking down at the boy.

«Mmkay,» Shouto muttered into the fabric of his sweatpants; his tiny arms embracing Enji's waist. «Daddy… wanna…»

«What do you want?»

«Daddy's… Da— haa!-» Enji rubbed a knee over Shouto's trapped little dick- «cock! Nnnh— Daddy's cock! P-Please...»

Enji chuckled. «And what d'you wanna do with it, mh, Shouto?»

Shouto looked up at him, flushed face and eyes swimming with desire to please. Enji could imagine the boy's mind quickly being overtaken by thoughts of his cock; touching it, stroking it, feeling its weight and warmth on his tongue — the way he'd been primed to in the weeks after the incident.

«S-service you— ah! — Daddy… please!»

«Since you're being so polite-» Enji patted his head, then undid the pants' drawstring and pulled them down enough for his cock to bounce free- «go ahead.»

Shouto's eyes light up, a needy whine falling from pink lips. «Thank you Daddy!»

He delved right in, mouth parting to suckle on the head, tongue sneaking under the foreskin and swirling around it like an ice-cream cone. Popping off the tip, Shouto moved down the hard length, kissing and licking every pulsing vein all the way to the base; he coated Enji's cock in saliva to ease the stroking of his small hands while he nuzzled up to the sac under it.

«Suck on those, boy,» Enji grunted, a large hand on the nape of Shouto's head. «That's where you came from.»

Shouto's tongue lapped at his heavy balls with careful brushes, lips puckering over the sensitive skin, sucking gently. Over and over, he kissed Enji's sac with something akin to reverence in both his touches and his eyes. His breath was humid and hitching as he worshiped Enji like the all-consuming being he was.

A low rumble reverberated in Enji's chest, his palm caressing red-and-white hair in silent appreciation. «Yeah… like that, Shouto. You like Daddy's cock, don't you?»

Shouto moaned, long and trembling with need. «Ah! I… I-I— yes! Like-» his lips attached to Enji's cock-head once again, drinking up the pre-cum oozing from it and mewling- «mngh— l-love it Daddy!» He rutted against Enji's leg, no doubt trying to find relief for his tiny dick trapped in that cage.

«Good boy. Now back to sucking.»

Enji unceremoniously pushed Shouto's parted mouth down on his twitching cock, fucking into it fast but controlled, thrusts shallow as his son let himself be used. Flushed cheeks hollowing and puffing out in time with his movements, and small hands cupping his balls, it didn't take long for Enji to feel himself starting to cum.

«Here it comes, Shouto,» he groaned, fingers dipping into the boy's nape to keep him still. «My seed— shit! Ngh!— don't spill any!»

Shouto's muffled assent sent jolts of pleasure up his cock, pushing him over the edge until he was dumping a load of scorching cum down the awaiting throat. Shouto drank and drank, lips tightening around his length to coax out every drop.

The sight alone — of Shouto's still-developing Adam's Apple bob — arousing him enough he could go for a second round immediately. «Like mother, like son: she loved to guzzle it down too.»

«Quit your squirming, dammit!» Enji growled, a rough palm on his son's hip.

«Nooo…! Back— put it back Daddy! Too empty...» Shouto cried.

Enji ignored the whining and the wriggling hips, too busy trying to reach for the lube one-handed, to appreciate the desperation Shouto was showing. At last managing to pop the bottle open, Enji poured the lube over the boy's slightly puffy hole — a huff of laughter escaping him at the squeak it earned him — and sank a finger inside.

Shouto's body shivered, no longer fighting. «Daddy...»

«Yeah,» Enji said. His digit moving back and forth, taking stock of how prepped his son's ass was after pulling out the plug which had been stretching him. «This is better, mh? A minute without something filling you up is unbearable, isn't it.»

The only answer he got was a whorish moan and Shouto pushing back into his hand.

Enji had introduced butt plugs around three months into his molding of Shouto into his personal, perfect cock-slut. He'd been dreaming about fucking his son well before Rei had snapped and gotten herself locked away in a hospital, and after teaching Shouto how to pleasure him with his mouth, Enji had decided it was time he started training that cute, round ass to take his cock. It'd been a couple of painstakingly long years. Years filled of better and better blowjobs, thigh-fucking — and occasional Fuyumi-fucking, because sometimes he missed the familiar feeling of a cold and wet pussy soaking up his boiling-hot cum —, and the slow-increasing girth of butt plugs up Shouto's hole.

The wait was finally over.

Enji was already rock-hard at the prospect of sinking balls-deep in Shouto.

His son seemed eager as well; spine curving sharply upward, hands gripping the futon under his shaking body in a vice. «Hhhnggh…!! O-oh! Da-Daddy! More— aah!— moreee!»

Enji smirked, a second finger pushing alongside the first to scissor and loosen Shouto; a third was quick to follow, and a fourth, the blushing rim stretched deliciously around his fingers, shiny with lube and fluttering. Enji shifted his hand back a little, calloused pads prodding at his son's prostate, licking his lips at Shouto's shocked yell. He kept up the touch until Shouto's walls were quaking and he was orgasming with his ass, his little caged dick limp but twitching uselessly over the sheet.

«Look at that, Shouto, you mastered the art of cumming like a woman,» Enji praised, fingers popping out of the boy with a squelch.

Shouto was out of it, drowning in post-coital bliss. «… Like a wo… man… did good?... Daddy…?»

«Yes, you did good. So good, you deserve my cock.»

Shouto didn't have time to say anything, Enji lubing himself up quickly and thrusting inside the small body in the next minute. Both moaned, when he bottomed out, then he pulled the boy up to sit on his thighs. Hands at a slim waist — leaving bruises on the milky-white skin —, Enji began ramming Shouto onto his cock at a brutal pace, the slapping of skin on skin loud and obscene, a nice background to the gritty grunts and the breathless mewls they made.

«How's Daddy's cock, mh, Shouto?»

«Mmngh! Aaah! Oh— l-l-loooove it…! Daddy!! Oh! Hhhgaah— yes! Cock!! Co— AH!»

Shouto was a mess of snot and tears and drool, with barely enough functioning brain cells to form words while he was mercilessly bounced on Enji's cock. His guts were speared continuously, his stomach visibly bulging every time Enji thrusted into him; his prostate was brushed against over and over to the point of pain, but Shouto kept moaning and sobbing in pleasure like Enji had molded him to—a slut for anything Daddy's cock gave him.

And Enji made sure to tell him.

«What a... whore! Happy to be a— ngh— rag-doll in my grasp...  just to get my— shit!— cock. Ready to crawl— haa!— on your knees and choke on it! You're a bitch in heat, Shouto— my bitch. My cock-slut!»

«Yours, yes! Yesyes! Slut— AH! DADDY! AH! AH!»

Shouto orgasmed again, body like jello in Enji's hands as he shook and shuddered and pissed all over the futon. He kept up his onslaught anyway, fucking up into Shouto through his walls' clenching down on him until he was cumming violently inside, still thrusting while he rode it out, uncaring of the seed spilling down his cock and adding to the nasty mess.

«Thank… you… Daddy...»

«Mmh, good boy, Shouto.»

[*]

He sees his son walk towards him, on his way to compete in his first match. «Shouto,» he calls, «I'm expecting to see you use your fire today.» Shouto scowls, seeming determined to ignore him and that won't do for Enji. He steps in front of his son, blocking the passage with his large frame; this time it's him who ignores Shouto's gritted «Get out of my way». He bends at the waist until their faces are as close as can be with Enji's quirk active. «I put up with this defiance at home,» he says. «but here and now? It's going to ruin your performance and I won't have that.» «Fuck o—» Shouto starts, only for the words to die out as soon as he sees Enji unzip the fly of his hero suit and pull out his limp cock. He smirks. The change in demeanor is instantaneous: Shouto's pupils swell, black overtaking gray and blue irises; his jaws grow slack and his lips part; a rosy tint blossoms on his cheeks. Tense shoulders sag. In the next second, Shouto's on his knees in front of him. «Daddy...» he whines. «Aah, that's better,» Enji says. He reaches out, weaves his large hand in bi-colored hair. A low moan leaves his son's throat. He can practically see the saliva gathering on the boy's tongue in anticipation, can see him squirm on the floor as the seconds pass by. Shouto moves closer, nosing at the crimson pubes at the base of Enji's cock but not touching the half-hard shaft. He wasn't given permission to yet. «Need your Daddy's cock to calm down, mh?» Enji teases. «Like a baby with his pacifier-» with his free hand, he strokes himself, quickly growing fully hard at the sight of Shouto panting and sniffing at his crotch like a dog- «wanna be a good boy for Daddy?» Shouto nods wordlessly, slowly humping his boot and Enji can vaguely feel the chastity cage rub on him through Shouto's clothes. «Yes! Yes, please Daddy...! Please, your cock— oooh I want it! Daddy, please... pleasepleaseDa— mgahghn!» Enji grabs a fistful of white-n-red hair and pulls on it, shoving his cock past slack jaws without hesitation. «Suck Shouto,» he orders. Shouto moans around him. His hands grope Enji's thighs, blunt nails digging into the muscle as an anchor while he starts bobbing his head over the massive length. His tongue swirls around the shaft in just the right way to make Enji groan; Shouto's throat constricts as he's swallowed past his son's gag reflex, the vibrations from the mewls travel all the way up Enji's spine. His son's mouth is perfect. «Yeah, that's more— nngh— like it! Fuck, Shouto— you love my... cock mh? That's a good whore—» Wet and tight around him — it almost reminds him of Rei's and Fuyumi's pussies. «Cool yourself down a bit boy,» he grunts. When his son does as told, Enji moans at the feeling and fucks himself deeper, harder past Shouto's lips—they're stretched and puffy and red, with drool oozing down his chin. Shouto chokes on his cock yet keeps working it like the greedy slut he is. He ignores the tears running down his flushed cheeks and the snot mixing with his spit and Enji's pre-cum. His face looks dazed and Enji knows Shouto's brain is mush right now: the only words blaring in there are "COCK" and "DADDY" and "DADDY'S CUM". Exactly the way Enji wants him. It's what Enji's taught him ever since Rei had disappeared from the house, eight years ago-and his youngest cock-sleeve has grown up to be exceptionally great at giving head. The most talented at it since his mother. «Take Daddy's spunk, you slutty boy!» Enji says through gritted teeth as he feels himself getting close. He rips Shouto's mouth off him, gripping his cock and stroking himself quick and harsh until his balls draw up and he's throbbing in his own fist. «Open up and say— fuck!— thank you!» Shouto whines, swollen lips parted and tongue lolling out, waiting to be fed. It's enough to push Enji off the edge. With one last stroke, he's cumming, the thick ropes of seed landing on his son's eager tongue as well as on the bridge of his nose and his left cheek. He milks his orgasm to the last drop, staring down at Shouto with a dark glint in his eyes as the boy slurps up all the cum sizzling on his face. «Thank you Daddy...» Behind him, Present Mic's voice calls for Shouto's name.

[littlemoondarlingarts]

Unfortunately it happened

A short story about two of my ocs that I've been writing for a while, please read the trigger warnings carefully before proceeding to the story.

Genre: magical realism with hints of psychological horror.

Word count: 4293 words.

Tw: Abuse, domestic abuse, past abuse, ptsd, hallucinations, claustrophobic scenes, blood, glass shards, mild sexual scene, possible sexual assault, disrespecting the boundaries of an autistic child, abandonment issues.

If there are any more possible trigger warnings that I didn't write, please let me know.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The thick warm blood irregularly dripped onto the rotting floor as Theodore tried to wrestle out the large glass shard that was lodged deep in his skull. He knew that pulling it out would only cause him to bleed more, but he had no other choice, his body just wouldn't heal around it. It's not like he could even go to a hospital. They ask questions there. Too many questions. He hissed in pain, fingers slipping over the smooth, wet surface, making the job ten times harder than what it already was.

Fear and pain overwhelmed his senses to the point where he couldn't even hear the squeaks of the wooden planks that normally annoyed him to no end. He only noticed that someone was in the small room with him when a pair of tiny pale feet stopped right infront of him.

"Stay back baby, there's glass on the floor." He let his hand fall down, the stubborn shard finally dislodged from his forehead, "Go back to your room, I'm okay." The obvious lie slipped through his blooded lips like smooth butter, if there was something Theodore excelled exceptionally at, it was lying with confidence so great that you would believe him over your very own eyes.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran asked meekly, shoulders tense and lips pouty, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his favourite shirt violently enough to tear the delicate embroidery his dad had spend countless hours on.

Theodore lifted his head, his tired eyes taking in the heart wrenching sight of the boy he grew to call his son. Fran's whole body was trembling, his small fingers red and bruised from unconsciously fighting with the thread, his nose was swollen, the skin around his eyes was puffy. It was clear as day that the little boy had been crying for a while now.... probably since the fight started.

"Franny," Theo started softly, "I'm alright now. It's over, okay? Just go to your room, I'll follow you in a bit. Promise."

But the little vampire didn't budge, his cold feet planted firmly on the floor, lips forming a thin line accompanied by a deep frown barely hidden by loose white curls. Theodore sighed, he wanted so badly to hold his son's hands and carry him back to his room like he did every night before, but he was scared if he'd moved even an inch more he'd tear his shirt even further, revealing more bruises and cuts, subsequently traumatizing the boy more. So he stayed put.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran repeated.

"Baby you know I-"

"WHY DON'T YOU STOP HIM?!"

The abrupt outburst took Theodore by surprise, making him flinch back on the bed. His wide blue eyes were chaotic as they searched the smaller one's face for any ounce of sympathy. It was silly, really, to be looking for such emotions in a clearly overwhelmed and traumatized kid, but Theo couldn't help himself, couldn't help the fear that was eating away at him, one angry word at a time.

"I know you can, Teddy. You used to stand up to daddy! And he was a VAMPIRE!" Fran said with a bit of pride in his voice, "You know what? I think we should go back to living with him! Maybe Elliot is waiting for us there! And the-"

"Elliot left. He isn't waiting for us anywhere, he doesn't want us anymore." Theodore shrunk back to himself when he noticed the amount of venom in his voice, "Besides Franny, you know I'll never let him hurt you. I'll never let anyone hurt you." He tried giving the most reassuring smile he could muster with the dull ache in his bruised cheeks.

Fran was silent for a long, dreadful second before hot tears raced down his face, "You can't even protect yourself..."

That sentence was like a punch to the gut. He never thought about the consequences that their constant fighting had on his son. He thought, no, he made himself believe that as long as Fran was in no immediate physical danger, everything was okay. It almost frightened him just how much he was willing to ignore and sweep under the rug just to let himself feel like a good father.

"I don't feel safe here... I'm scared." Fran sniffled, "I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and-and find you dead!" It was getting harder for the little vampire to speak as the tears kept flowing, "Or.. or  that you would... would just leave me here like Elliot did... or.. or yo-" violent sobs wrecked his body, forbidding him from finishing his sentence.

Theodore was lost. He promised Rouge and Elliot.. fuck those two, he promised himself that he would give Fran the best life possible, and yet here he is... shaking and wailing helplessly... He needed to do something, and he needed to do it fast. But what? What could he do?

What would dad have done? Dad wouldn't let himself be in this fucking situation. But if he was ... what would he have done?? Theodore's hands were now shaking uncontrollably as he tried to think of an answer. He would've pulled me close. Held me tight in his arms and told me that he'll keep me safe no matter what. That everything will be okay. Yes. Yes... that's what he would've done.

And so he reached forward, taking the now bloodied tiny hands in his and pulling Fran into his arms, holding the sobbing boy as tight as he could.

But the truth is. What his father would've done is vastly different that what Theodore should've done. Because in that moment of pure loss and desperation, he forgot one crucial detail... Fran can't handle being touched. Especially not being hugged.

Fran yanked himself backwards with powers unnatural to him, his body was sent flying until he hit the floor with a loud thud that almost made Theodore's heart stop, but to the boy, anything was better then being held like that.

"Franny... I'm so sorry... I forgo-" Before he could finish his sentence, the vampire was on his feet and running out the room. His loud footsteps quickly fading into nothingness before the deafening slam of a door shook the old house to it's core.

Theodore let himself fall back on the bed, sending small dust particles flying all over him and irritating his allergies. He quickly placed a hand over his nose to stop himself from inhaling any of that dust, he can't afford having his brains ooze out his wounds if he sneezed.

His eyes closed before he could decide otherwise. It's okay... it will be okay.. he'd probably gone to bed now, I should do that too. Tomorrow will be different, it will be better, I'll make some scrambled eggs and bacon.. wait no, Fran is a vegetarian you idiot, he doesn't eat that shit!... fuck. I can make uh... grilled cheese sandwiches.. yeah he'll surely like that....

But deep down Theodore knew that he isn't a kid that can go to bed when he is tired or in pain anymore, he is an adult now, with a kid of his own and all the responsibilities that come with it..

The obnoxious sound of the sports channel blaring from the living room and the rhythmic pouring of rain on the window along with phantom barking of a distant dog were like a hammer smashing into Theodore's head over and over again. Every little sound was cranked up to a hundred, even his own heartbeating was agonizing.

He forced his body to sit back up, becoming face to face with the long mirror nailed to the wall which seemed to be closing in on him. Theodore instinctively pushed himself backwards until his back hit the cold wall as the room began fold in on itself until the mirror was nearly touching his feet. He wrapped his arms around his body in an attempt to ground himself as his claustrophobia kicked in and his breathing quickened to a painful degree.

He forced his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the walls that were now touching every inch of him. And his thoughts drifted back to the only place they could... Is it possible Franny is scared like this now? He feels unsafe.. he said that himself.. I can't just leave him alone in his room until the next sunset... that's not what dad would've done.. that's..that's what mom did... leave me alone and ignore me when I needed her most then pretend nothing happened the next day... that's what I was going to do...

The thought made his eyes shoot open only to be faced with her image in the mirror, blue eyes staring down at him with familiar disappointment. His blood boiled. He is becoming her! Repeating the cycle of neglectful abuse and torment until noone survives. In a moment of blind rage he balled his fist and swiftly moved to shatter the mirror and all the pain it was causing, but he found himself slammed to the floor, bloody knuckles causing a dent in it... it seems as tho the wall was still as far away as it always had been.

He stayed there for a moment, tears pouring down unapologetically as he tried to compose himself. He soon found enough willpower to stand up, but before he could take a step forward, sharp pain shot up straight to his head, forcing him to grab onto the nearest wall for balance.

Once the pain dulled down enough for him to be able to open his eyes, he looked down at the apparent source, only to see that his right ankle had doubled in size, blue and swollen as if there was a tennis ball underneath the skin. He rested the back of his head on the window, feeling the cold droplets of rain leaking through and falling on his cheeks.

He sighed, he would heal, he always did. But it would take time, and unlike Silas, this fucker never cared for him after beating him up. Theodore chuckled to himself, never in a million years did he think he would use Silas as a positive example for anything, goes to show just how low his life had sunk.

Nevertheless, he needs to persist, not for himself but for the little vampire that depended on him.

He thought about taking a quick shower to wash off all the blood, but something told him not to, to just check on Fran as soon as possible, and Theodore's gut feeling had never failed him before, so he always followed it, even if he knew that his son was safe in his bed, wrapped in a fluffy blanket that Theo had spent all his money on. He smiled, remembering how Franny's eyes twinkled when he first saw the bee pattern on it. Oh how he wishes he would see him this happy every second of every day.

Still smiling, he managed to take off the ripped shirt without aggravating his injuries too much. He held the black tee in his hands, staring at the bright neon pink "Angel♡" written on it in a metal font with the white signature of the singer along the neck.

He got this shirt 2 years back when he went to the live performance, Angel wasn't even the main performer back then, they were merely the opening act. Given how small they were, they didn't have a signing booth, it was actually pure luck that Theodore managed to meet them outside while they were waiting for a taxi.

And he thought that Rouge was tall! Angel was at least eight feet, to the point where he felt like a little cat after cranking his neck up so high just to be able to see their face, and what a truly terrifying face it was! Almost nightmarish with their black bug eyes and their long pointy teeth! But they were nice, maybe a bit blunt and lacking a social filter, but after being with Fran for a while, Theodore got used to unwanted comments... wait.. Fran... now THAT is what he was here to do!

He immediately put his favourite shirt down on a nearby wooden chair, promising to fix the rip the moment he can carry something as delicate as a needle without his hands shaking and dropping it, he threw on an oversized sweater that used to belong to Elliot, a pair of ghost patterned pyjama pants and made his way to the corridor.

Theodore was still grabbing onto the walls as he limbed his way to the door covered in stickers, it was slightly ajar which was strange considering that Fran had slammed it, but with how rusted the hinges are, anything is possible. He slowly pushed the door open, peering into the dark room, noticing how the moonlight softly illuminated the blanket-covered lump on the bed.

He should be happy? Maybe relieved? But instead, all he could feel is the bile rising to his throat, and he just couldn't tell why, perhaps he was just anxious about the impending talk. Yes. It must be that.

Theodore slowly stepped toward the small bed, feeling the mattress sink under his weight as he sat on it. "Hey Franny..." no answer, "It's me Teddy," again, nothing. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his aching neck, "listen I came here to apologise, and I... are you asleep??" He pulled down the blanket only to see that it was only a group of plushies in the vague shape of a kid.

Adrenaline shot through his body making him forget all about his pain and injuries as he quickly opened the closet, looked under the bed, tore the covers from the bed. Yet.... Fran is nowhere to be seen.

"FRAN!" Theodore yelled at the top of his lungs, "FRAAAANN!" He stood aimlessly in the little room filled with the missing boy's trinkets and drawings, his breath so fast he could hear it as he impatiently waited for an answer, "Baby where are you?!"

He could feel the little plushies staring at him, knowing where his baby is but not telling him, they don't want Fran to go back to being with such a horrible father. Theodore grabbed his son's favourite one, a large fluffy bee he had won for him during a passing carnival. He forcefully held it, his fingers smearing the blood all over the bright yellow as he shook it back and forth in the air.

"Where is he goddamn it! Where is he?" He screamed over and over again at the defenseless bee.

To anyone passing by, this seems like complete and utter madness, a father interrogating a stuffed animal instead of searching the whole house for his missing son? But to Theodore in the moment, it made sense. These plushies were the closest to the little vampire, they know his secrets and feelings more than Theo ever apparently did. So it must be obvious that they would be the ones knowing where his precious baby would be.

"I know you know! So just tell me!" His voice broke as a pained sob took over him, making him hold onto the door handle as his knees seemed to buckle under him. "I'll make it better... I swear.."

"He went out you crazy bitch!" The familiar gruff voice came from the living room, it was naturally loud enough to drown out everything else, even the news channel. Or perhaps that was just Theodore's mind only focusing on what matters to him, whichever case it was, he heard it loud and clear.

"What?" He whispered, soft and almost silent; like a deer caught in headlights, he couldn't move a single muscle in his body. He was painfully aware of this, too; the fact that he is just. Sitting. There. Like a useless piece of shit. His brain screamed at him to 'MOVE IT YOU FUCKER! MOVE!' But his body was almost paralyzed, unable to do anything, not even blink.

It may have taken mere seconds to get up and be in the living room, but it felt like years. Years of him being useless and worthless.

He ran down the short corridor.

He ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And with every step, the corridor seemed to stretch further and further, the end feeling more like a mirage as countless doors strung on the walls. Screams were erupting from behind them, defeaning and terrifying. A minute of thinking would've made him recognize the voice as Fran's, and this was one of the many instances where he regretted ever doing that. Theodore shut his eyes, covering his ears with his hands and just ran forward like a fish in the deep dark ocean where the sun can't reach.

"What do you mean?" His voice was erratic when he finally made it to the living room, gripping the worn down sofa that his "boyfriend" was sitting calmly on, as if a kid isn't out in the dark and rain all on his own.

"He's just breathing some air after all that shit you caused!" The man turned to look at him, "You think I didn't hear all that? Well news flash baby, I have ears."

His absolute nonchalance about the whole thing was irritating Theodore to no end, and Theodore wore his emotions on his sleeves. His eyes darkened dangerously as he almost felt himself growl, but he had to control himself as that would definitely get him another beer bottle to the head.

The man chuckled softly, putting his large hand on top of Theodore's much tinier one, "You're too worried about him, Francis is-"

"Fran." He corrected in a low, deep voice.

"Whatever, same thing. Point is, he is a little man now! If he wants to go out and calm his nerves after you wrecked them, then let him!" He smiled, trying to pull the shorter man towards him, but he didn't budge. "Listen baby, you need to give him some time to work out his emotions, stop getting in his business you little helicopter!"

The man pulled again, this time successfully getting the half dissociated Theodore around the sofa and onto his lap. When he said it like that.... it almost made sense. Fran isn't eight and he really was hurt by all that Theo had done tonight and most nights before that, he does need some time to process all that. Or maybe that was just his way of feeling less guilty, believing that this is just a natural reaction rather than face the fact that his son's terrible immune system won't handle the cold and rain.

"That's right baby," the man held Theodore close, and like a moth to flame he leaned into it, craving any sort of affection and sympathy, "calm down now," his rough hands gently petted Theo's curls which were now matted with a mixture of blood, bear and sweat, "it's all okay," He moved his hand down, moving over Theodore's back in slow and rhythmic circles. "Daddy's here," testing his luck, the man moved his hand further down and gripped Theodore's buttocks firmly.

This sent reality crushing down on the poor man, this isn't okay. Nothing about a frail and sickly eleven year old kid being alone outside in the raining night in a place surrounded with dangerous wildlife is okay. No matter how hard he wants to shake the guilt off. How hard he wants to lean into this rare moment of gentleness. He can't. Not when his son is all alone. Not in a million years.

Theodore placed his hands on his boyfriend's large chest and pushed himself off his lap, getting to his feet as quickly as he can without losing his balance and running to the door as if he is a prisoner that just found the keys.

"Well fuck you too slut! I never wanted your trashy ass anyway! Go get eaten by wolves! You and your annoying ass kid!"

But Theodore had already made it outside and started the long process of running around aimlessly and yelling Fran's name at the top of his lungs. After thoroughly running through the front yard, he took a deep freezing breath and made his way into the surrounding woods where the fading moonlight didn't reach.

He quickly lit up the lighter, the rain putting out the flame before he could do anything, so he bent down, wrapping his body around it like a deer would to her fawn, and tried lighting it up again. The small flame persisted long enough for it to turn blue and be transferred onto Theodore's palm.

He extended the demonic flame infront of his face, making his eyes twinkle with otherworldly lights, he was hoping that animals would find it's strange color intimidating rather than inviting, and that Fran would recognize it as his and find him. Clearly too much faith in a silly little flame, even if it is magical in nature.

Theodore's feet got sliced and bruised by the rocks and thorns on the ground, but nevertheless he persisted, his dark fingers gripping the ancient trunks for dear life, not caring about the skin being scratched and peeled off if them.

He opened his mouth to yell for his boy, "Fraaan.." he coughed, hoping that his voice would come back, "Fra.... fuck me." His voice was gone, almost completely after the endless screaming and yelling he did this night, both while searching for Fran and the big fuckin fight that had happened before.

With no voice to speak of, Theodore felt... weak. He couldn't yell for Fran and the hope that the boy would see the flame on his own and follow it is... statistically very low. He was defeated. He failed himself, his father, Fran... everyone that can be failed.

He made his way out of the forest, he had already searched the surrounding area on foot. He had the small tiny twinkle of hope that Fran had made his way back home alone, that he really was just breathing some air. That he is now safe and cuddled underneath the blanket. Safe. And sound.

Theodore stood infront of the closed door. Body shaking from the cold rain and pain, he stood there for a while, just letting the tears silently fall down, not daring to go inside and face the truth.

"Teddy?" A small familiar voice echoed in his head, making him smile a little. He had been first given that nickname by his mom, but now that Franny used to call him that, it no longer feels... humiliating. It feels warm and comfortable, it feels like a purpose and having someone that depends on you and trusts you.

"Teddy!" The small voice came again, this time angrier, like a tiny kitten's hiss.

Is it possible that this.. isn't in Theodore's head? That Fran was actually yelling for him?

He tore his eyes away from the door and looked around, and sure enough, he easily spotted the head of white fluffy hair struggling to get out of under his boyfriend's car.

Theodore rushed to help his son get out without being scratched or injured, he held the boy's tiny hands and pulled slowly, stopping to fluff down his shirt to make the sliding easier. Once his bottom was out, his short legs were an easy task.

"Thank gawd! I thought I was gonna be stuck under there forever! Or that that bastard was gonna drive tomorrow and I'll become tomato paste!" The little boy was flailing his arms around as he spoke, finally settling for a dramatic break as while saying "tomato paste!"

He tried keeping himself composed, he really did, slowly stroked his son's curls, but quickly enough Theodore crumbled. Exhaustion, pain and all that worry that he was barely holding, finally broke him. He hid his face behind his hands as he cried uncontrollably. His drenched shoulders shaking with each painful sob.

"Teddy?" Fran asked worriedly, his soft voice kept quiet as if Theodore was a rabbit that he didn't want to scare off. "Why are you crying?"

It might seem like a stupid question given the circumstances, and if it was anyone else, Theodore would've given them the deathglare. But he knew that Franny genuinely couldn't understand the consequences of actions, wether they were his own or others. So he simply sniffled and smiled as bright as he could, resuming to fluff up his baby's hair.

Fran's face scrunched up as if he had tasted a lemon, his soft features all grouping in the middle of his face. But he didn't mind this, not really, he just found it fun to do this face because he doesn't get to often. And Theodore knows this, they spoke about this before... before this..  him.

"I wanna sleeeeeeeeeeep." Fran whined while pouting, earning him an honest chuckle from his dad.

Theodore opened his arms as his son jumped up, landing perfectly on his waiting shoulder. Fran swung his feet, accidentally hitting his father's chest a few times, not too many times tho as he was doing his absolute best to avoid it. But that swinging was making it harder for Theo to safely stand up, but he made do and made his way back indoors carrying his son like a sack of potatoes, which is the only way Franny likes to be held.

Deep in his mind, Theodore knew that this won't be the end of this abusive relationship, he was too dependent, too afraid of being abandoned and left alone to leave. But the cracks were only becoming more and more prominent, and hell was knocking on their door.

[spitefulqueenofdemons]

https://spitefulqueenofdemons.tumblr.com/post/643713435650113536/sleep-deprived part 2

Pushing Up Daisies chapter 3

Tw: language, murder, guns, cops, mentions of drugs

Word count: 1373

Summary: After having woken up tied to a chunk of concrete under water and doing an unspeakable act (for your survival??) You find yourself out of options and people to help. Well almost, the only one you think might be able to help is the one who got you in this situation in the first place

After a long shower and several hours on the internet searching for anything that could tell you what was going on. Apart from a few hundred movies and books with undead content the most concrete actual zombie anything you could find was mostly about the voodoo dust that people used to put others under control. And back in the 18, and 1900s people accidentally being buried alive. 

There was virtually nothing about zombies in Seattle. All you knew for sure was what had happened to you. You confronted Blaine, he grabbed you, shot you, dumped you in a lake and you woke up you dont know how long after underwater with no need to breath. 

As you thought and absently read yet another article about 'Haitian Zombies' you rubbed your hand against your wrist that Blaine had grabbed you with. The scratch marks on your arm were as faint as old scars but you could feel them still.

And just like that realization hit. The red eyes made sense. Blaine was a zombie, and that lady who was working the front counter probably was too. It had to be some sort of virus or something that could be transferred through scratch. The teenager in you was thrilled that zombies were real and not mindless corpses that just wandered around destroying everything it came across. Sure when you first emerged from the lake you couldnt control yourself and killed that poor innocent man but you were literally starving. 

Perhaps that was the down side. The hunger is enough to blind you from any moral standing. Even more unfortunate, you didnt know how long what brains you did eat earlier would keep you satiated and you didnt have a way to get more without committing more murder. You didnt know anything about the zombieism other than the scratch causes it. 

You really only had an one option. Go back to Blaine. He had options. Once you got there he could kill you, or turn you away, or kill you. You had gone in only, according to your microwave, 8 hours ago guns blazing accusing him of being a utopium dealer. How could you expect him to help. 

Now you also knew you couldnt go to the police. As an officer you knew they would either freak out or hide it. And by hiding it you knew that would mean hiding you, IE killing you and sweeping it under the rug. They might turn you over to some higher part of the government. The type that does a bunch of invasive and usually very painful experiments and research. 

You could just drop it. Leave town and change your name. But then again that brings up the issue of how will you eat? Murder is just too horrible an option for you. Grave robbing coukd be viable but half decomposed chemically drowned brain is almost as bad as the moral stand still of murder. 

Deciding on your course of action you breezed to your closet, choosing a simple black hoodie, dark jeans and boots, and a ball cap to hide your snowy hair to wear. You grabbed a glock 19. Not the gun you had when you went to visit Blaine in the first place. That one was gone, probably in Debeers' personal stash now. This time though if he pulled so would you. 

Without a vehicle, you assumed it would no longer be parked where you left it in front of MEATchute, you were instead forced to catch a bus to the opposite side of town. The open sign was off but you could see people behind the counter. It looked like they were counting the drawer.

You beat on the glass with an open palm, hard enough for it to make a lot of noise but not hard enough to shatter the glass. The older woman from when you first came was the one to open the door. She looked like she had seen a ghost, but still somehow like she didnt care. 

"Cant you read the sign? We are closed. That means you dont have to go home but you sure as shit cant stay here." She half growled. 

You rolled your eyes, half willing to punch her in the face if she wanted to get cocky. "Move. Wheres Debeers?" You demanded, eyes flashing past the stumpy woman and to the counter where a large man with dark hair stood sizing you up. "You," you said. You recognized him as one of the names that gave a name that then gave you Debeers. "You work for him. I shouldnt be surprised." 

He cocked an eyebrow. "Cissie, let her through." The man said. He looked like a knock off version of Patrick Warburton. "You are supposed to be dead little lady. You got lungs of steal or are you one of us?" 

You scoffed, wanting to hit them all. You knew it wasnt a part of the zombieism either. These fuckers were all instrumental in your death. That enough was reason for a slight beating. "I got nothing to say to you Julian. I'm here for Blaine and I'm not leaving till I get to talk to him." You demanded, stomping up to the counter. 

The man sighed as if this was one of the last things he wanted to deal with. "Well he isnt here but I'll call him. See if he wants to talk to you. Follow me." He said, gesturing to you. 

Not exactly happy, but pleased you were getting what you want, you followed the man behind the counter. He took you further into the building and finally into a room off the kitchen that actually looked like a real office. The large mahogany desk was a mess with files and papers, on top of them all was the stolen file from your apartment. There was a few random art pieces. 

"Wait here. Someone will be by soon." He instructed, leaving you in the room alone. Trusting that you wouldnt snoop. Normally you would but this situation was not the time. You needed help, and had already pissed off two of the three people you knew had a hand in that. Snooping through Blaine's real office would be like flipping the bird after you already spit on and slapped someone. Definitely not a good idea on your part. 

It took less than 20 minutes before the door opened again and a familiar blond haired blue eyed gangster opened the door. "Ah Detective. What an unpleasant surprise. I didnt know you walked amongst the undead." He said with an air of genuine shock. "When Julian told me I really didnt believe him. You took those bullets like a mortal. What happened?" 

You laid out your wrist on the desk, the marks almost completely gone. He crossed to the other side and sat down, moving the little lamp that was sitting at the corner of the table. He shone the lamp over my arm and the little pink marks showed up. 

Blaine 'tsk'ed. "Was it me?" He had a fake look of disgust on his face. "It was me wasnt it. Damn it, I knew I shouldnt have blown off my manicure appointment this morning." He shook his head. "Thats why you arent dead. You gotta be starving though. Would you like a snack? Pudding? Crackers and cheese? Brains?" He questioned. 

You looked at the mark on your wrist in the light, your jaw clenched a little. "No thanks I already ate, but that is part of what I would like to discus." 

At that his eyes widened with actual shock. "Um, you already ate? Did you kill someone or dig up a body?" When I didnt answer he nodded knowingly. "You killed someone. Oh I bet that was a sight. Sorry about the cinderblock by the way. I didnt think you would be waking up. Im sure it wasnt the best alarm." 

You scoffed, a little thankful he stopped asking about your food source. "Waking up underwater was definitely a new experience, but then again so far my whole evening has been new experiences." You told him. 

"Well, allow me to formally welcome you to the land of Zombies. I'll explain everything."

[anxiouslynumbme]

Best Prepare To Grieve

7x10, Daisy dealing with Jiaying's death.

Hello! So this is late and slightly more unedited than usual, 'cause I kinda had to post it before tonight's episode, so fair warning and all. Also this is heavily focused on Daisy and May, with a little Daisy/sousa. The higher dosage of Daisy and Sousa will be posted to my other fic (Tell me it's okay.)

Title inspiration: Hayley Williams - Leave It Alone. If you don't know it, go check it out. Actually, listen to her entire album. It's such a wonderful piece of art. Also the song ‘Simmer’ works for both Jiaying and Daisy. But especially Jiaying: If my child needed protection From a fucker like that man I'd sooner gut him 'Cause nothing cuts like a mother

Okay, I'm gonna stop now before I start rambling about the genius of Hayley Williams.

Ao3.

If you know love You best prepare to grieve Let it enter your open heart and Then prepare to let it leave

**************************************

Daisy didn't expect it to be easier, but with the number of people she had lost, and the amount of deaths and loss she had experienced; she wanted to believe it wouldn't hurt as much. But it hurt the same. Always.

Daisy had noticed a change in the way she handled tragedy over the years. How she used to deal with sadness as a kid, crying and daydreaming of a better future. As a teenager, she was the typical angsty, cynical soul who hated the world. A rebellious determination hit in her 20s, she found solace in conspiracy theories and exposing the truths.

And then Coulson had found her, and she'd latched onto the opportunity behind the man, desperately trying to find her parents, to know who she was. But Coulson had given her much more than what she had been looking for. And at first, the loneliness and pain had lessened with the team. She was happy. She belonged.

But as much as S.H.I.E.L.D. had given her; it had taken just as much. And it had taught her to deal with afflictions by avoidance, isolation, and a whole lot of anger.

And Daisy wished so much that was the case by seeing her mother's death again, Daisy wished she could sweep it under the rug and carry on. Just put under it there, with the recent death of Enoch. But she couldn't.

Daisy felt like a little kid again. She just wanted to cry and never stop, her heart was squeezing itself so tightly in its cage, her ears ringing with its heavy pounding. She couldn't breathe.

Daisy's breathing was short and shallow, her heart rate dimming in the engulfing anguish and shock, her chest constricting with the unbearable weight of loss. Daisy was frigid with the retching grief swirling through her veins. How was it that she never knew her mother and it hurt as though she did. Everytime. She had always been an orphan; she never had a mother, this should've been easier. Daisy wanted it to be. Desperately. Daisy was deprived of a mother's love since she was born; she was used to this. And yet, if felt like she was being drained of her blood by Nathaniel all over again. He should've had finished the job.

What Daisy resented the most was the brief, naive sliver of hope that was momentarily lit within her heart. A hope she had learned time and time again to crush, to never let it simmer too long or too bright. Daisy had learned not to hope a long time ago.

But seeing her mother again had weakened her resolve; it melted that icy wall she'd built around her for so long. Because the Jiaying that had stood in front of her was so unlike the traumatic memories Daisy had tried to block out. And for a split second, Daisy let her mind wander: it wandered so stupidly, with an innocence she shouldn't have, gullibility that should had been long gone.

Jiaying's presence enfeebled her state of mind and her guarded heart. Because after all those years, Daisy still hoped. What if Jiaying could stay? What if bad luck decided to let her have this one? What if she could get to keep this untainted and healthy version of her mother? What if they saved her sister and managed to find some way to stay together? It was so brief, a nano-second of hopeful naivety.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. And now you're breaking down all over again.

No, she wasn't breaking down again. Because as much as pain and sadness were familiar. Anger was too. And Daisy could easily channel this darkness that was threatening to swallow her, into fury. A familiar and safe territory.

It had been a while since Daisy had felt this kind of rage. She hated it. It was so easy to lose herself in that bottomless pit of hatred and self-pity. Daisy didn't want to give herself in it again; she'd almost lost the people she loved the last time she had went down an emotional spiral.

But it didn't matter, because Daisy wasn't going to let this go, her blood was boiling beneath the surface of her skin, her nerves prickled and itched with the fury that kept building up by each passing second. Quake was unraveling inside her, her powers thrumming with the need to be let out, it hummed and hammered, silently begging to be unleashed.

"Daisy."

May's wary voice traveled to her ears, but refused to reach the rest of her senses. A numbness began to settle over her as she quietly wiped away her muted tears.

May placed a hand on her shoulder and Daisy's eyes closed at the contact. Daisy couldn't handle comfort right now.

"Where is he?" her voice came out distant and cold.

"Daisy."

"How did he escape, May?"

"Garrett, I'm sure. He has Simmons."

Daisy's heart lurched in silent panic. Of course. Of course, he has her best friend. Daisy pulled away from May, standing up briskly.

“Deke is there too. He was already on the Zephyr.”

"Do you have any idea why he wants Simmons?"

"Daisy, you should take a breath," May said, putting a hand on her own chest.

"I'm fine, we have to act quickly and find her. Malick is unhinged; we don't know what he'll do," Daisy said monotonously, vaguely pointing at Jiaying's corpse. "We should move her first."

"I got it."

Sousa's voice was jarring, to say the least. Daisy was unaware of his presence in the hallway, and she didn't why, but she couldn't look at him.

"Thanks," she told him, marching forward and leaving Jiaying behind, not really caring where her legs were taking her.

"Daisy, where are you going?" May's word fell on deaf ears, Daisy needed to get out, it felt as though her lungs were collapsing in her chest.

Daisy almost sprinted outside. Her steps carrying her forward until she was stood in front of the water falling down harshly at the center of the Lighthouse. A scenery that used to bring her comfort; it was a place she sought out in her time of need, need of serenity and quiet. But her safe haven didn't provide much safety or peace, nothing could change the scene playing over and over in her mind.

Jiaying's face, the cracking sound of her neck breaking. The thudding finality of her lifeless body hitting the floor.

The air started to crackle around Daisy, her powers causing shudders to glide through her bones. Daisy was aware of the ground shaking beneath her, cargo and boxes of contents unknown to her, started to jolt and oscillate uncontrollably.

"Daisy!" It seemed May had followed her.

"Don't worry, May. I'm in control."

"Are you?"

"Yes!"

With a deep breath, Daisy focused all of her energy on one specific container, finally letting the infuriated vibrations out. Releasing her powers directly towards a few useless objects. One after the other, they exploded, and with each one Daisy felt her raging insides slightly subdue. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't Nathaniel.

"Daisy, talk to me." May came to stand next to her.

Daisy breathed in sharply. "What's the plan? Do we know - "

"Daisy, stop avoiding this."

"I'm not avoiding anything, May. Simmons was kidnapped, again! And I'm guessing Malick is not taking her to Hawaii, so..."

"I know that," May gritted out.

"Good. So he probably took her because it has something to do with Fitz, which is just great because we have zero informa -"

"Daisy, I can feel it!" May's voice almost came out in a yell.

"I'm sorry?" Daisy asked uselessly.

"Daisy," May said. "You are in pain. And you are so angry. Please talk to me."

Daisy nodded her head in annoyance, her hands darting to her waist. "Okay, then, why didn't you shoot to kill, May?"

"What?"

"Why didn't you kill him?" Daisy snapped. "Why didn't you let me - ?"

"Your anger was too much, you would've put everyone in danger!"

"No, I wouldn't have! I know exactly what I'm doing."

May paused, taking a step closer to her. "Daisy - "

"What, you wanna talk about something else? Like the fact that apparently I don’t exist now, or the fact that I had to watch my mother die again. Killed by the hands of someone who was abusing my powers! He used my powers to kill her, May!"

"I know," May said softly, striding even closer to Daisy. The consoling noise of the water around them grounding Daisy.

"Honestly, what Did I expect?" she snickered. "She dies later anyway. . .might as well, right? At least now I won't be alive, I guess - I honestly don't how this works anymore."

"Daisy, don't do this. Don't shut down."

"Wow, that's rich coming from you," Daisy bit out, her frustration flowing freely.

May was quiet, which irritated Daisy even more. She simply stood there, staring at her, but not with pity. It was pain. May was hurting too.

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Right, your ambiguous powers are making you extra sensitive, huh? Sorry about that."

"I don't need powers to feel your pain, Daisy."

Daisy stiffened, her feet instinctively taking a step back. "Well, sorry about that too."

"Daisy," May followed her, a palm trying to reach for her arm again. Daisy let her. "I can tell. Always. And that's why I know you will be okay."

"Will I?" Daisy wondered, her tone small and broken. "you know sometimes, I have these moments where I look around, surrounded by you guys, and I feel safe. Content. But then this dread always hits, hard. And I'm just. . .constantly afraid of losing you. Death just follows me, wherever I go."

May blenched, her frown deepening as her hand squeezed Daisy almost sternly. "Don't. Don't say that."

"No, no, it's always been like this," Daisy continued loudly, her hands flailing in front of her restlessly. "it's the same thing, always. Anyone I ever dared to care about goes away. God, even the idea of my parents I couldn't have. Just the mere damn idea of them. And the universe is twisted enough to keep dangling her, dangling that hope in my face!

"I've imagined meeting my mother over and over again, and not once did I - " Daisy's voice broke off, a hollowing ache in her chest. "She's unreachable. There is no world where I could have her. I don't even know why I keep - why I even thought - "

Daisy was cut off by May's arms enveloping her. Her grip strong and kind and steady. Safe, so safe. Daisy gasped roughly, her body sagging against May, finally inhaling oxygen just a bit easier again.

Daisy's legs gave out from under her, May immediately lowering both of them to the ground. May's arms closed her in, almost caging her from the cruel world around her. Like a mother would. And suddenly Daisy was assaulted by the memory of almost losing the woman who was currently keeping her from completely shutting down . May had almost died; Daisy had believed she died. And all of a sudden, that same wave of stifling pain crashed over her again, and Daisy clutched May to her, gripping her tightly.

"You almost died too," Daisy wept, not fully aware that her mouth was freely voicing her turmoil. "You almost me left me, too."

"Shh, I'm right here."

But Daisy was unable to hear anything but her racing, terrified thoughts.

"It won't stop. Ever since Trip, I keep losing. I lost the one person who understood me," Daisy's breath caught in her throat as she thought of her first, lost love. "I lost my - "

Her father? Because he was. In every way but blood, Phil Coulson was her father. And he was gone. And Daisy knew she might never completely move past his death; she might never be whole again. There really was nothing without him.

"It's okay, Daisy."

"He's gone, May. Coulson is gone," Daisy sobbed. "It's not him. He will never be him."

"I know, Daisy, I know." May held her harder. Solid against her.

"Please don't leave, May," Daisy grasped May's waist, her head pressing further in her chest. "Don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere," May rasped, her words firm and full of conviction. "I'm right here, okay? I'm always with you, Daisy."

But she wouldn't be. There was no way to ever ensure that, to ensure her loved ones’ safety, her family's survival. Daisy was going to lose them, or they were going to lose her. Death was inevitable, loss was too, and it didn't help that the odds were always stacked against them.

Enoch was right.

But Daisy didn't say anything, and decided to let May's words seep into her anyway, because Daisy was on the verge of a panic attack and she couldn't afford the loss of control right now. So for this moment, Daisy decided to believe May.

******

Daisy's eyes snapped open, her groggy mind trying to comprehend her surroundings. She had fallen asleep, slowly Daisy lifted her head up and away from May's chest to look into her wide awake eyes. Glancing around, Daisy realized May had moved them to a wall near by.

"How the hell did I fall asleep?" her voice was scratchy and low. "Did I, like, pass out or something?"

May grinned. "Honestly, I think you might have."

"Oh, how long?"

"Not long enough."

Daisy exhaled slowly. "Well, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. You needed it."

Daisy gazed at May's warm smile and noticed her eyes were a little red, realizing that May might've been crying with her. Gratitude and affection rushed through her. They had often joked about it, how Coulson and May were like her parents, but deep down, Daisy had always been speaking from the heart. They were.

Daisy caught May's hand in hers, "Thank you. I don't say it enough,"

May's brows knitted. "For what?"

"For taking care of me, for showing me how to survive and basically teaching me everything I know. For saving my life."

"You never need to thank me for any of that.”

S.H.I.E.L.D. did take a lot of from her. But it had also gifted her with something so rare, so utterly precious. Irreplaceable. It was tangible and real and hers. Daisy would take all the pain in the world if it meant having them. Having this family, keeping it.

"Er, hey."

This time, his voice wasn't as jarring, in fact, somehow Daisy was waiting for it, her ears welcoming its irresistible warmth as her eyes finally met his.

"Hi."

"We should start working out a plan and figuring out exactly where they are," May said, her body suddenly rising up to its full height, Daisy following right after. "I'll see you back inside in a few minutes,."

With one last gentle smile, May was walking away from them.

"Are you okay, sounds very pointless right now. So I'm gonna ask if there's anything you need from me."

Daisy's lips instantly quirked to the side. "Not right now, no. But thanks."

She wanted to ask him how he moved Jiaying, where exactly did he put her. Daisy wanted to see her, but her heart seemed to whimper in fear at the thought. Would she be able to do it? Daisy needed to focus on the mission, and maybe later, if she actually survived, there would be time to say proper goodbye to her mother.

"For now, all we need to focus on is getting Simmons and Deke back," she told him as they both started walking back.

Sousa sighed, eyes flitting away from hers. "I know. It all happened so fast. I couldn't stop him."

"You were with her?"

"Yeah, and I didn't have time t - "

Daisy stopped in her tracks. "Hey, it wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could've done."

Even though Sousa knew she was right, she could still sense some lingering guilt in his eyes. But Daisy could more than understand why he felt that way. Because how many times could she have killed Nathaniel? How many ways? Instead, she did nothing but watch. Helpless to stop any of it.

"What happened wasn't your fault either," Sousa said softly.

A part of Daisy didn't like the fact that he seemed to be able to read her so easily after knowing her for such little time. But the other, much bigger part of her, was just so grateful for him. Grateful that she didn't have to talk much for him to understand. So grateful that he was here.

Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts. 

Daisy peered at Sousa."Well, I guess it doesn't matter if it is or not. Guilt sticks with you anyway it can."

Sousa nodded. "Sometimes, it can be an irrational feeling."

"But in this case, it's justified. He didn't even want Jiaying. If she hadn't been here at all, then she would've - "

"No, you can't think like that," Sousa interjected quickly. "it'll drive you crazy. There was no way for you to know that. It was out of your control, Daisy."

Daisy could feel her insides recoil at the incessant image that wouldn't leave her mind. "He'd told her. Before he killed her. She - she knew who I was. She was trying to protect me."

Sousa stepped up to her, his palm kindly touching her arm. And Daisy didn't flinch away from him.

"She had died honorably. I know things were bad in the future with her. But this was your mother, Daisy. And she had done what she was always supposed to do."

The silent tears slipped before she could stop them, Sousa's hand rubbing her arm soothingly. 

"You know, I'm really glad you kinda pushed me into talking with her."

Sousa smiled warmly. "Really? 'Cause it didn't look like it."

Daisy snorted. "Well, I wasn't at the time. But now I realize I needed the push. . . So thank you."

"Anytime, Daisy."

The way he'd said it, as if he were cementing the idea that he was going to be there for her, anytime. And Daisy wanted to believe him so badly. But she couldn't let herself hope right now, not so soon after. Everything got taken away from her, and Sousa was no exception. Sooner or later.

Daisy sent him a simple nod in response, their legs moving forward again. Daisy didn't want to go inside; the air was probably still thick and heavy with the recent calamity, the devastation. Devastation she was still feeling.

But Daisy didn't have the luxury of mourning right now. Her friends were in trouble, which of course meant the world was in trouble. She needed to push through, as always.

She could let herself think that seeing her mother again brought her nothing but this suffocating sorrow. But Daisy was choosing to view it differently. She was glad that she was lucky enough to have seen Jiaying like this. To hear her say, my daughter, one last time. Daisy was glad she had the chance to look at her mother's beautiful face, and not see years of torment and hate clouding her eyes. Daisy was never even supposed to see her again; she was lucky in that sense.

Or at least that was how Daisy needed to look at it, in order to be able to move on. Because thinking of it any other way could so easily crush her.

Daisy got to see her again and that was enough. Because maybe asking for anything else was too much.

It always was.

[almea]

It’s sad how people are now saying the bees & only the bees won’t last. Funny how that doesn’t pop up with renor/a.

lmao.... I see people still aren't grasping the fact that they're not heartless enough to string along a group of people who initially had very little hope for something happening (specifically because it's gay and we very rarely ever get the gay ship) for multiple volumes. And have it be directly compared in universe with the het ship everyone knew was going to happen since the episode they were introduced. When there was. Absolutely no reason. For them to do that. If they were just going to take it away.

"But then why was [redacted] teased too?" First of all, I will absolutely die on the hill that [redacted] did not get a fraction of the development Blake and Yang have gotten together. They sure did exist in the same place as each other plenty, but there is just a huge difference in the emotional investment Blake shows with both of them and which relationship is actually being focused on in these moments.

Second, the problem is that what happened with the Bees is that for most of the first three volumes canon Bees was a pipe dream that was just "this would be so good if they did it." Yeah, people (I) still would have been bitter and annoyed when it didn't happen, but it felt pretty inevitable that it wouldn't.

But then the absolute fuckers went and gave us hope at the end of volume 3. The hope wasn't in "Yang loses her arm in an attempt to save Blake" but in "this is the way we're choosing to frame Yang losing her arm in an attempt to save Blake."

They continued to show us how much Blake and Yang meant to each other and how much they missed each other in the two volumes that they were separated, so it didn't matter that Sun was with Blake and Yang wasn't because Blake and Yang's relationship still had more narrative weight and relevance. It was something the writers couldn't ignore or sweep under the rug because they were the ones who kept bringing it up and making it A Thing.

And when they finally reunited, their relationship was pushed even more to the foreground. They both wanted to fix things, but they didn't know how to address it, so there was that constant tension between them while also making it clear that they still care about each other. They never stopped caring about each other in their time apart. And it all culminated in them defeating their shared demon together and vowing to always be there for each other. While paralleling the ship everyone knew was going to be canon multiple times.

And now!!! In the current volume! They're just. Shamelessly into each other. And being cute together all the time. They're basically dating, short of one of them actually saying they have romantic feelings for each other. But oh wait, we don't even need them to say that because we've got another character spelling out that they're more than "just friends." And using it as a way to talk around her relationship with her own "more than just friend."

We've gotten to this point with a ship whose most passionate supports at one point fully believed it would never happen. After six years. And you're going to try to claim it would be such good writing for the writers to go "actually no. The point of all this is that Blake and Yang think they have romantic feelings for each other, but they actually don't. Because they're too traumatized and toxic for each other or some shit. Even though we've gone out of our way to show how happy and comfortable they are with each other in literally every episode so far this volume. Because our goal is to make you believe something you initially believed could never happen could actually happen before we take it away from you."

Yeah, you definitely care about good writing and don't have your own biases and aren't attempting to clear the way for [redacted] to happen by the time they make it to Vacuo.

And that's not even getting into how fucked up it would be that they directly paralleled a straight ship with a gay ship (and yes that is a factor in this and will always be a factor until there isn't a single homophobic person on the planet) by outright saying "these two pairs of characters both went through a lot of shit together and they are more than friends as a result of everything they've gone through," and then follow it up with the straight ship making out and the gay ship being like "lol just kidding. You're actually like a sister to me." Read the fucking room.

[tinchuleytiger]

Skarred for ship meme

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME!

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - “Forever, obviously. That little fucker does not get to just fucking leave.” 

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - “Please don’t tell him I said this, he hasn’t exactly.... said that he loves me, ya know? But I knew I loved him the second he walked away from me.” 

How was their first kiss? - “Soft. A little knifey, but it was sweet. I didn’t know if he was threatening me, or what. I liked it though.”

Wedding:

Who proposed? - “Me. Four times, actually, before he agreed. The first time I just kinda blurted it out and he punched me. And then I did prepare and did a whole thing and he just fucking said no and hit me again. He caved eventually, though!”

Who is the best man/men? - “Dog!” 

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - “There weren’t any, really. We had honorary positions, though, for his family and for my guys. Anyone who couldn’t be there because... well, ya know.” 

Who did the most planning?- “I’d say it was equal. We got into plenty of petty spats over it, and he won most of them.” 

Who stressed the most? - “I wanna say me, but I feel like we both did. I was terrified he was gonna change his mind, and I think he didn’t think I was gonna agree, too.”

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - “Lyle. And my family. Actually, there was no way Lyle could have come, unless I dug the fucker’s body up.” 

Sex:

Who is on top? - “Both. Honestly, if you’re not counting who is penetrating who, then... Karr. He likes to push and act out, and I don’t mind it. It makes him feel better to be in charge of things and I know how to switch it up if he gets too bratty.” 

Who is the one to instigate things?- “Me, mostly. I’m easily way more sexual than him and I really just... love to touch, ya know? I mean, he tells me he’s not in the mood then I don’t bother him, but... I mean, you can tell when he’s not in the mood vs. when he’s just being bratty.”

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - “Karr’s got a hair trigger, which I fucking adore. It’s not really my place to say, ya know, but... he’s got a past and he didn’t really get to be the one in charge much, or get off from it. So my goal is to just... make him happy. Plus side, he’s got a fucking quick reload time so that’s fun as fuck. I’ve got some good self-control but he likes to make me beg for it and goddamn does it work.” 

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - “I mean... I wanna make him cum so much that there isn’t a single fucking sperm in his body, so... no? I guess? But quality vs quantity.” 

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. 

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - “0? We’ve got dicks.” 

How many children will they adopt?- “I said we should... ya know, work with a surrogate and get a kid. One who looks like Karr. I think he’d like that. His mum too, since he said she wanted a nice Asian woman. I’d be fine with that. And a kid who looked like Karr? Fuck.” 

Who gets stuck with the most diapers?- “I think both... I mean, I wouldn’t mind it.” 

Who is the stricter parent? - “Both again, prolly depends on the issue though.” 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school?- “I feel like me. Karr prolly is doing it with them...” 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - “If they want to eat more than just rice, me.” 

Who is the more loved parent? - “Neither. What kind of fucking question is that?”

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?- “I feel like Karr would. And he’d make the teacher cry.” 

Who cried the most at graduation? - “Karr. He cries. A lot.”

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law- “Me. I know people.” 

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking?- “Me, but Karr helps. He cleans up after me and we work together. I like watching him cook, but... ya know... I need more than rice.” 

Who is the most picky in their food choice?- “Karr.”

Who does the grocery shopping? - “Both of us. I like to get a variety, and Karr’s got a pickier palate than me.” 

How often do they bake desserts?- “I like sweet things, but Karr... not so much. We’re working on things we both like.” 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - “Both, I think.” 

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner- “Me. I like spoiling him.”

Who is more likely to suggest going out?- “Me again. I like spoiling him, alright? I wanna treat him right.” 

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking?- “I wish I could say Karr. But... it’s me.” 

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - “I try, but... Karr. He doesn’t think I’m organized.”

Who is really against chores? - “Neither of us. I think Karr looks cute in the maid outfit, he doesn’t though.”

Who cleans up after the pets? - “Me. But Dog doesn’t make a lot of mess.”

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - “Me.”

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - “Karr. Because they might kill us.” 

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning- “Also Karr. And then he berated me about it.” 

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths?- “I mean... Karr, I’d say? But I like to shower with him. Or he showers and I bath, whatever. I dunno. He’s not super into people cleaning him so...” 

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - “Me.”

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - “I’ll decorate for whatever holiday Karr wants. All of them. I want him to be happy, and make some good memories.”

What are their goals for the relationship? - “To be happy. To be together.” 

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - “Me, if Karr’s laying with me.”

Who plays the most pranks? - “Karr, the little piece of shit.”