#he’s got issues out the ass of his self worth and it’s like. yeah shit man you haven’t been reliable but you’re not unloveable

[zeb-z]

missa, after his self resentment and lamenting about how he doesn’t feel worthy or like he should be accepted, after telling himself and the capybaras that he doesn’t have a home, not really - after all is said and done, he returns to phil & missa, leaving his mini mi in the house on the wall. as if he’d consider anywhere other than the house he shared with phil safe enough. seeking out safety and home brought him right back where he started.

something about how despite his internal conflicts and issues about what he thinks he deserves, he’ll still come back. and for all he worries that he is not enough to be loved in return, his name is still on the warp stone.

#he’s got issues out the ass of his self worth and it’s like. yeah shit man you haven’t been reliable but you’re not unloveable #he wants to be better and he tries and he cares the issue is he holds the rest of his family on such a pedestal #this shame and guilt bubbles up and is only made worse when he isn’t rejected or hated like he’s expecting. he’s taken back with open arms #so he follows phil for guidance as to what’s acceptable. without phil there how can he know if it’s ok for him to stay in their home? #as if he didn’t also build their home yknow #but even when all is said and done he returns. even if it makes him feel guilty even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it #because as much as he doesn’t want to be a bother he wants to be better most of all. wants to be present #I just don’t think he ever expects to be wanted to keep around. like he wants to prove himself and he’s expecting his loved ones to reject #any sort of redemption. meanwhile they don’t see the need for a redemption in the first place #shaking missa you wet cat of a man you dense self sabatoging silly silly man #stop your hero worship. own up and show up. and let your family love you because my god you are so loved #sorry tags got away from me it’s like 5 am and I’m like ahfhhrhfhshfhhs #mcyt #qsmp #q!missa #missasinfonia #z speaks

[tgcg]

part 3 of something specific

CG: SO YEAH, THERE’S NOTHING BLACK ABOUT HOW THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SET UP BEYOND PURE SUPERFICIALITY. THEIR RIVALRY IS TEXTUALLY POSITIVE BOTH TO THEM AND FOR THEM, BECAUSE IT LEADS TO THE DISCOVERY OF THEIR STRONGEST BONDS, WHICH ARE TO EACH OTHER. AS SOON AS SASUKE DISCOVERS HIS BROTHER’S RETURN, HIS IMMEDIATE CONCERN IS TO GO OUT OF HIS WAY AND FIND NARUTO TO ENSURE HIS SAFETY.

TG: (man how is karkats hair always the exact same amount of messy)

CG: SASUKE FINDS NARUTO ANNOYING, BUT SO DOES LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE IN HIS VICINITY! SO IT’S NOT LIKE THEY HAVE A UNIQUE BOND REGARDING ANY CONTEMPT FOR ONE ANOTHER.

TG: (its like hes got that shit down to a science)

CG: THEY DON’T HATE EACH OTHER DEEP DOWN! AND THAT’S THE CRUCIAL PART, THE ABSENTEE SUPPORT BEAM THAT PROMPTS THE FOUNDATIONS OF BLACKROM TO CRUMBLE IN ON THEMSELF. NO DAVE, THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS DEFINED BY EMPATHY AND COMPASSION.

TG: (professor sepulchritude were noticing a 0.6% decrease in the angle of elevation in the frontmost swoop)

CG: NARUTO KNOWS ALMOST FROM THE BEGINNING THAT ANY HATRED SASUKE HOLDS FOR THE WORLD ISN’T DIRECTED AT HIM WHATSOEVER. HE DIRECTLY ACKNOWLEDGES THIS WITHIN THE TEXT!

TG: (unacceptable doctor dicktopus, apply several degrees worth of emotional turmoil and see to it that the issue is ass blasted to oblivion)

TG: (fuck yes sir)

CG: SASUKE SAYS HIMSELF THAT HE FINDS SAKURA REALLY ANNOYING, AND SAKURA IS IN TURN MOST ANNOYED BY NARUTO.

CG: AGAIN, SQUANDERED POTENTIAL. FUCK THAT.

TG: (is it natural or premeditated is some kind of product involved)

TG: (did alternia have fucked up guerilla combs designed to mangle your hair just right)

CG: … DAVE?

TG: (actually hell nah i couldnt see him doing that in a billion shitty troll sweeps)

CG: METEOR TO FUCKING DAVE?

TG: (no doubt he just rocks up like that)

TG: (man looks the same every day)

CG: DAVE!

TG: (shit abort)

CG: GOD DAMNIT. YOU AREN’T LISTENING ARE YOU? YOU’RE DOING THAT THING AGAIN WHERE YOUR LIPS START MOVING WHILE I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF TELLING YOU SOMETHING! JEGUS, AT LEAST HAVE THE BASIC TROLLIAN DECENCY TO INTERRUPT ME WITH CONVICTION IF YOU'RE GOING TO HUMOUR AN EXCHANGE IN CULTURE, YOU ABSOLUTE TOOL.

CG: DID YOU EVEN GET A WORD OF WHAT I SAID?

CG: WELL YOU’RE THE ONE WHO ASKED, CHUCKLEFUCK! SO--

TG: yeah theyre just quivering in tearful delight at self recognition through the other dude

TG: if not for these sick shades youd be moved to shit by the glistening eyejuice gathering in these peepholes

TG: fit to burst but i remain static in the face of euphoria

TG: im protecting your ass such as a knight is pretty much wont to do

CG: PFF, WHATEVER, “DUDE”.

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #comix #something specific

[isa-ghost]

what about Philza and social situations headcanons? (Parties, meeting strangers, that sort of thing)

Smh this is just Irish Goodbye bait /j

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Okay yeah obligatory Irish Goodbye mention. There's so many islanders and he gets distracted so easily, if he says goodbye to everyone he's gonna get stuck in 600 more conversations and he'll never leave the Whatever he's at when he intends to.

Also obligatory: He will genuinely enjoy the gathering to its fullest but he will still be on high alert. He cares for every single islander no matter how infrequently he sees them, which means while he's still immersed in the get-together, he remains vigilant to ensure nothing can harm anyone, ESPECIALLY when there are eggs present. The banquet with the fake eggs really reinforced this.

The above is why, especially while everyone is just bantering before the real event begins, Phil will perch up high on and off and just observe everyone chatting. He's on the lookout, making sure no one is vanishing inexplicably or worse, being taken. Keeping mobs and other threats away when necessary.

When encountering strangers, he plays it cool, he's very kind and engaged. But he is observing the shit out of the person. Analyzing them, their body language, forming an impression of their Normal, their Default state, so in the future he can tell when they're off.

Hilariously his memory is ass sometimes so it takes A Few "first" impressions for him to really ingrain in his brain how a person generally is.

Once he determines your vibes check out and you're a neat person, he's ride or die. No man left behind when it's Us vs The Feds in his eyes. You need something? He's got you unless you'd rather do it yourself.

When it's not an islander though... He'll put on a nice face, he'll stay civil if they're civil first. But truthfully, he is Not interested in the stranger whatsoever, ESPECIALLY if it's a new Fed worker. Then he's straight up suspicious. It takes a lot longer to determine whether or not they're a threat, if they're worth being bothered about, or if it's fine to live and let live.

The capybaras are excluded in the above though, he fucking loves those funky guys he wants to see them more often. He loves that they're so invested in helping him get cool pictures and stuff.

He LOVES new islanders. It's fun to watch the initial impressions, seeing who bonds with who most, joining them in picking their place to set up home, and checking in in the future to see how their new abode is coming along and how they're settling in. Honestly? It's partially that Hardcore Historian brain, he loves discovering what's been built in his absence.

When he's stressed, a lot of the above goes out the window, or becomes inconsistent at least. He's no longer observant for protection, he's observant out of fear; especially for himself. He perches almost always, or never stays in one spot for too long. He gets tunnel visioned. He really doesn't want to socialize at all. He dislikes being caught not in his best shape and he can get very paranoid and self conscious about it.

Btw he sometimes has the social awareness of a fucking grape so like. If you have an issue with him, please say so. Please communicate. He's a birdbrain boy in a birdbrain world ok. Tunnel vision and ADHD go brr.

Sometimes he socializes with birds the same way he does people. Just whole ass short conversations. Usually when he's bored and lonely.

He's down to socialize literally any time. The one time he probably Doesn't want to be bothered, at least not very often or for long, is when he's Eggza doing task grinding or resource gathering.

He hates being out of the loop of things because he has no idea what to do or say when a crisis arises, which makes him feel kinda useless, and that SUCKS when the person(s) impacted are particularly close to him. But at the same time, he has so much going on already at any given time and he Always prioritizes safety (esp of the kids) over anything else, so if there isn't an immediate threat or emergency, he'll stay out of it and just let people come to him about the thing if they deem it necessary. He's not the U.S, he doesn't feel the need to insert himself into every going on on the island. Especially potentially dangerous ones, getting involved if he doesn't have to be is just inviting harm and stress. He's not everyone's dad or guardian or whatever, he doesn't have to rush to aid everyone in their time of need. He'll offer it if relevant and he'll of course come rushing if asked, but generally speaking, he minds his business if he's not roped into it in some way and then hope that someone will fill him in well enough in the future. Fit's usually got his back.

You are Not getting his ass out and about at night, at least not unless you're just inviting him to your base. Especially with the kids. You're just not. Way too dangerous, shit always goes awry.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #qphil headcanons

[howlingday]

Honestly, i'm kinda disappointed in how WBYJ kinda brushed off Ruby and her issues throughout V9. So, I have taken matters into my own hands to look for a song to cheer up Ruby, and I have found it!

I now pass this song on to you to post, as I am both very unskilled a writing and very lazy. The song is Tom Cardy's H.S, and a link will be given to a tumblr post within this ask. Wether WBYJ sing it to Ruby or Jaune shares it with her as a ln apology is up to you.

https://www.tumblr.com/inthefallofasparrow/727759896307761152/hot-shit-tom-cardy?source=share

If an outside link is needed, I am willing to give the link to the YouTube video.

Sing a-long!

"Now and then, we all get a thought that stops us in our track. Am I living to my full potential, or am I holding myself back?" Jaune spins Ruby around, putting his hands on her shoulders. "You've gotta stop with that shit, 'cause you're P-P-PERFECT~!" He slid from his seat, walking away to the bookshelf. "Check out that analysis paralysis!"

"Paralysis~!" Ruby's team added, crooning from the hallway.

"If you need some help to see, take a lesson from me!" Jaune spun around, opening a book to the story of the Rusted Knight. "They say that I'm not a huntsman. Do you think that I really give a shit?" He tossed the book aside, causing Blake to jump in the air to save the spine from being ruined. "You know we're not gonna quit, 'cause we know we can take a hit, and we know what we is, and we know we is-"

Jaune spun around, tearing off his armor to reveal a pair of yellow spandex covering his body. He pointed his finger to the sky in his declaration.

"HOT SHIT~! And you know that we know it! We might never get registered, but it don't matter 'cause we know that we're still-"

"HOT SHIT~!" Team RWBY sang without their leader.

"Yeah, you're hot shit, too, so get out of your brain and do what you're 'born 'sposed to do!"

"HOT SHIT~!" WBY chimed in. "You know that we know it! Expect some real magic from us real huntress! HOT SHIT~!"

"And you're hot shit, too," Jaune pointed at Ruby, his finger inches from her face, "so get out of your way and just do what you were born to do!"

Before Ruby could argue, Jaune sat down next to her. "Before I got wise and said "gosh dangit," it's true that I was jealous of the big other huntress." He pulled out his scroll, opening to a news article published by various journalism sites. "But did you know that Winter, the biggest to you, was jealous 'cause Atlas would call her a rebel, too." He swiped to the photo album, featuring a familiar face to the red huntress. "The huntsman she was jealous of was your Uncle Qrow, who had self-comsuming thoughts that he would never become-!"

"SUMMER ROSE!" Yang held out a picture as Weiss and Blake sang with her.

"He was constantly chasing the dream that he would be so big that he'd be a legend!" Jaune left Ruby's side and stared out the window. "But trillions miles away that even Summer didn't see was a big guy strong enough to lift reality." He drew a signature S shape on the wall in chalk. "He turned his gaze into our world to see "There's a girl with a beret who's cooler than me!"

A new voice joined the choir as a woman with a black beret and dark shades entered. "But the most super awesome, coolest huntress to ever exist is probably at Vacuo saying "Now I'm seeing shit!" Coco lowered her sunglasses at the youngest leader. "I've seen a fight with a camera, I've even seen a memory lapse, but I've never seen a red huntress KICK SO MUCH ASS!"

"HOT SHIT~!" Everyone in the room was singing now. "And you know that we know it!"

Ruby stood from her seat. "I don't need to be a hero because I know that I'm still worth it, baby~!

"HOT SHIT!"

And you're hot shit, too!" Jaune wrapped an arm over Ruby's shoulder. "So stop doubting yourself and feel this huntress groove~!

"HOT SHIT~!" It seemed like everyone in Vacuo was feeling it, as singing came from down the halls in chorus. Was everyone in on this?! "And you know Ruby knows it! Expect some fucking stories from this red hoodie~! HOT SHIT~!"

"And you're hot shit, too," Jaune led Ruby out the doors, past the crowds, "so look out to the world, because we're all waiting for you~!"

Ruby stepped away from Jaune, looking down as she walked away. "Now and then, I get the thoughts that stop me in my tracks. Should I really be a huntress? Or should I just cut back?" The world held their breath as Ruby asked, fearing the worst had happened to her. "...I've got to stop with that shit 'cause I'm P-P-PERFECT!" Ruby roared to anyone who would spare the time to listen to her. "My life is fucking cool and so are you, if you only let me tell the rest of my story with yoooooooooou~!

"HOT SHIT~!" The world answered.

"And you know that I know it~!" She answered back to the world. "I might never get my register, but I'm still awesome as a leader~!

"HOT SHIT~!"

"And you're hot shit, too, so let's shoot for the stars 'til we break through the mooooooooooon~!" Ruby pointed to the sky, heedless of whether the moon was above or shattered or not or neither.

"HOT SHIT~!"

"Do you like my space metaphor~?" Jaune asked.

"HOT SHIT~!"

"Would you like to know what I use it for? To prove to you that you are hot shit, too, now stay out of my room and show Remnant what hot shit do~!"

"HOT SHIT~!" Ruby jumped through the air, cheering until she landed flat on her face. "Whuh? What just happened?"

"Emmy! You dropped it too soon!"

"Sorry, I couldn't hold it any longer."

Ruby looked up to see Jaune still sitting on his bed, patting Emerald's hand as she panted in a nearby chair. Nora loomed over her, barely held back by Lie Ren. To the other side of the room, she saw her team looking at her with mixtures of concern and worry. A gloved hand reached down to help her up, which she forgo to address the whole room and not just Oscar.

"What just happened?" Ruby asked.

"No more musical numbers." Emerald groaned.

"We... I was worried about how you were feeling since coming back from the Ever After and getting registered again, so I talked with your team and my team and, well..." Jaune shrugged. "Jaunty musical number?"

"Dude..." Ruby grumbled. "I don't care if it was your musical number or mine or Oscar's. Tricking me to sing is not cool."

"Don't blame 'em, kid." Coco said, leaning on the doorframe. "You were pretty jittery since you came back, so we all talked it over. The musical number was actually my idea, but unfortunately, I can't sing."

"Because you're too cool to sing?"

"Nah. Court order."

As Ruby balked, she looked to her team, who still didn't drop their looks of concern. As much as she wanted to be mad at being tricked into singing, she knew neither her team nor Jaune's would do this without some merit to their concern. So she relaxed a bit and sighed.

"Nobody recorded me, did they?"

#rwby #my answer #my answers #tom cardy #hot shit #hs #h.s. #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #oscar pine #lie ren #emerald sustrai #coco adel

[voids-voyager]

Touya being the unofficial relationship counselor among his siblings. They'll rant about and bemoan their relationship struggles to him, not specifically seeking advice but just to vent, only for him to spout some laser-pointed statements at them without deigning them worth his full attention except for when they're being especially annoying and self-pitying. Or dense to their problems.

"Fuyumi, the reason your relationships don't last is because trying to get to know you is like trying to cut a vegetable with a foam knife. Frustrating and gets you nowhere. And you're not fun or sponteanous enough to be a fun fling. I know you're worried your only notable traits is being a stand-in mom, but either get over it or try to develop more of a personality if it worries you so much."

"Natsu, obviously you're having communication issues when you refuse to ever talk about your own problems or gripes. You're not fucking special enough to be ignored by the whole world to justify not talking about your issues. It's fucking frustrating trying to comfort you because of it. Now go call your girlfriend and talk shit out."

"Shouto it sounds like you're used to getting your way in some fashion and having a hard time adjusting to bullheaded stubborness not solving everything. Pull your head out of your ass and the tunnel, Shouto. Also you're emulating father with that pushy behaviour, cut it out."

And during a time they're all meeting up at Fuyumi's place, they ask how the hell he's so good at this. Touya just kinda shrugs and drops an unexpected bomb on the kotatsu they're all huddled around.

"I do have a boyfriend."

Shouto, Fuyumi, and Natsuo stares back at him. Touya stares back, not getting why they suddenly got all quiet, or are looking at him like he's grown a second head.

Then Touya's eyes widen in realisation. "Oh shit, I forgot to tell you."

"Forgot?!" Natsuo exclaims.

"Apparently. Guess that's what strained family relationships does to you."

"How long??" Fuyumi asks.

"Five years, give or take. Took like a year before we made it official."

"Five years?!"

"Where do you think I got all my 'wisdom' as you brats call it from? That's fucking experience talking. And an outsider perspective is way fucking easier when it comes to spotting pitfalls."

"Who is it?" Shouto asks, curious. "Do we know them?"

"Yeah, it's Tenko," Touya answers easily. Then he narrows his eyes. "Wait, did you really not suspect it at all?"

Shouto tilts his head in response. "Why should we have?"

"Not you so much, you were a baby, but Fuyumi and Natsu definitely. I stayed more at Tenko's place than at the house as a teenager and he showed up at the house all the time when I actually was there."

Natso and Fuyumi absorb this, thinking back. Fuyumi rubs the corners of her eyes, messing up her glasses. "Looking back, yeah, now I feel dumb for not noticing."

"You really were together all the time," Natsuo muses, staring at the ceiling as he goes through memories of his brother and his best friend near attached at the hip. Shimura really would just show up at the house no matter the hour. Sometimes Natsuo would wake up and Shimura would be there when he definitely hadn't been the night before. Thinking back, it was always when Touya was feeling especially bad.

"Now I've got something tangible to point at when you all try to claim you're not dense as fuck."

Natsuo thinks back, to Shimura Tenko and his brother, and how Tenko would get this look in his eyes whenever he looked at his brother, how his posture would straighten up from a slouch and tense in what he could with the power of hindsight recognise as protectiveness. All without Touya noticing. And he thinks his brother probably couldn't talk about being dense to them. But then again, he's had what appears to be a stable relationship for five years now.

"Does he still slouch all the time?" Natsuo can't help but ask.

"Nah," Touya sips from his tea cup. "Enough slaps to the ass to make him jerk straight fixed it."

"Bro, too much info."

"I've listened to every single one of you's woes about intimacy, you have no right to complain. Be happy I'm not using it as blackmail."

#shigadabi #dabi #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki natsuo #bnha #this got so long i'm sorry

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

okay yes everybody has amateur opinions on tiktok (except Nanami x Tiana and Yuuji x Rapunzel shit was galaxy brained)

So here are some REAL ships by a seasoned dululu shipper (these can be platonic or otherwise btw!)

(this got long so I put it under a cut)

Nobara x Jasmine - Both of them feel stifled by the people around them and are very headstrong and confident in themselves. They would love shopping together and would also kick so. much. ass.

Megumi x Elsa - UPON RECENT COMMENTARY (shout out to @sarah-dipitous) I think their personality matches really well!! They both have little siblings they want to protect, they're both serious and stoic, they both have a high sense of responsibility. Also the tragedy aspect would lowkey hit with these two in a fic like...if you know you know

Maki x Cinderella - Both of them were very mistreated by their families, and I feel like Maki would help Cinderella get out of that abuse and then they could BOTH help each other grow and heal from that

Toge x Sleeping Beauty - Okay honestly I just think this is cute like what if he wakes her up and breaks the curse with his powers 🥺🥺🥺

Belle x Sukuna - Girl is too curious for her own good, she would jump on this immediately. Monster lovers and furries are cousins after all. With her "I can fix him" ass, I would wish him on no one else.

Suguro x Ariel - This is more because I think the interactions would be very interesting. Ariel is so so curious about the world, enough to sell her voice, and ultimately has a positive experience having her eyes opened (but also can't go back to her home). Suguro had his eyes opened to the world but had a negative experience (and also can't go back to the world he knew). Also, I think Ariel's carefree and goofy nature would remind him of Gojo.

Gojo x Moana - SPEAKING OF!!! I paired these two because Moana's already friends with a cocky god-like figure!!! She would be unimpressed by Gojo's antics and would know how to handle his joking around, which I think is really important to anybody looking for a relationship with him. He starts being overly obnoxious and she just dunks his ass in the ocean lol

OKAY NOW THE TWO THAT I DO LIKE!!!

8. Nanami x Tiana - the GOAT. 10/10. Whoever came with this better be writing/commissioning this fic as we speak. First of all I love Nanami any time he's paired with a Black woman. I've seen y'alls selfships and it just looks good every single time. Second, they're both hardworkers, but Tiana is self-sacrificially so and I can just see Nanami stepping in and making sure she does not work a SECOND more than she is getting compensated for and makes sure she is still taking care of herself, because zero job is worth more than she is. Love that for her. (Also, like everyone else says, yeah he takes one bite of them beignets and has the proposal on DECK)

9. Yuuji x Rapunzel - This is literally sunshine 4 sunshine and I'm obsessed. First thing Yuuji says when Rapunzel tells him about her hair "Yoooo, that's sick as fuck!!!!" Totally unbothered cause he's also got his own weirdo issues!!!! She also would be unfazed by Sukuna. If he starts talking spicy to her, she would just knock his ass out with the frying pan and get Yuuji back lol. (They WOULD have to worry about him working with Mother Gothel tho...which would make for excellent plot conflict)

#jjk #real life with risa #we love silly crack shipping here #just when it's done RIGHT

[arttrampbelle]

I feel nrs shits on raiden because ed has a problem with the character personally.

Why? I honestly have no fucking clue.

Raiden isn't that hard to understand so im not understanding the big deal.

We can have him go dark but not liu? Oh yes because he's the special one. I forgot. 🙄😒😑

Everyone else can get at least something that makes them feel believable,even likable and flawed.

Oh but heaven forbid liu kang fucks up.

See this is why hc liu is better. Non god liu kang is better.

But back to raiden.

Why is it. Why is it. Whenever raiden makes a reasonable mistake,that anyone can make.You guys take it so hard?

And villainize him.

But if liu makes a mistake its the end of the world but never do the same. Like all is forgiven and forgotten. Emphasis on the forgotten part. 🙄

If any other characters do reasonably fucked up shit. And have decent character flaws. You guys dont bat an eye.

But raidne does it. Suddenly you shit on him.

He cant win no matter what he does,how you write him. Im starting to think you guys hate raiden because you have unresolved daddy issues,authority issues,or you hate to admit that a godly powerful being cant wipe you ass all the time and you *sarcastic shock!* might actually have to solve the problems yourselves?! Wow what a concept.

Like srsly tho. Raiden isn't infallible. But he isn't a fucking chump loser can't get shit done.

He could get shit done but he has a code of honor,rules he has to follow by(that he hates),he has so much on his plate. And honestly you guys never appreciated his character.

Like out of pure spite. Im gonna do raiden self indulgent stuff today. Just to spite people.

Legit half the crap we got in 12. We could have gotten with raiden if you guys at nrs bothered to fucking write him properly. Instead of being lazy selfish pricks with a bias and favoritism towards other characters. *couch liu kang cough* (like i love liu but not written like that,never like that. God liu? Gross. Humble monk warrior liu? Yes)

Because liu kang playing "savior and creator of everything" is disturbing,disgusting,and disrespectful.

Like srsly they are legit telling THE SAME FUCKING STORY AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN. SAME AS 11. SAME SHIT. oh but because its uwu brand liu kang. And not the real liu kang. Suddenly its ok?! No!

Legit mk12....os the same fucking thing. Just liu kang brand.

It's no exciting. Its not new. You guys are lying to yourselves.

We could have had any fucking god charactera in mk do the same shit. And get the same result.

You guys could have had this with raiden. But noooooooo. You wanna shit on a character for shock value and no reason. Gtfoh.

You could have actually done something worth a damn but nope. You only care about gimmicks and whatever carries your attention spans for five secs for a quick fix of serotonin because you can't fucking get thru your heads you are being manipulated by a fucking company that lost passion years ago.

But that's besides the point.

So yeah. Raiden.

I'm so sorry they never gave you the love they should have.

Tobias should sue for your trauma. (Half joking here people. Tobias was the one who created and came up with the idea for raiden in the first place. And layed many foundations for this game but is half heartedly given credit while boon steals (no pun intended) his thunder)

Raiden i am so sorry for your mistreatment.

*hugs him*

Srsly if you call yourself a mortal kombat fan. And you genuinely hate raiden Do us all a favor and throw yourself in the dumpster fire. Plz. Also block tf outta me.

Look as a shang tsung tsimp. I love many many other characters too. But raiden is a comfort character,tho i self ship with him too he is comfort character. So i won't tolerate slander and disrespect.

Anyways. Raiden....my thunderdilf.....you deserve sm better.

I hope real raiden fans understand this. And make more PROPER kontent for you. Unlike nrs. We will treat you right.

#mortal kombat #raiden #raiden mortal kombat #lord raiden #💙⚡thunder's devotion⚡💙 #vent #vent post #tw vent

[funky-sea-cryptid]

HI TAM!! You doing oc’s questions on love?

Ohhhh how about Calla with Eros, 4. Philia, 2. Agape, 5. Philautia, 5

:3

HI LUCA YES I AM!!!

eros:

4. Do they believe in love at first sight? Have they ever developed a crush or romantic (or erotic) fixation upon a stranger based on their appearance alone?

yes, he does! calla acts mad shit but he's secretly a regular ole romantic and wants some storybook ass romance. he does not get it, but he's fine with that. and yeah, he did! kirsch is a very very pretty man and calla is a gay bitch. their meeting was pretty ugly overall

philia:

2. Does your OC find it easy to make friends? Or are there barriers to them doing so? If so then are these due to issues of inclination, communication, or something else entirely?

not really. not only was he unable to hear (he’s still deaf even with hearing aides lol) for 15 years of his life, he's autistic and once he joins the magic knights, calla's trying to pick up multiple different social cues at once. he comes off very antisocial and awkward and confrontational in the beginning, but he's just struggling to figure out how interactions work. have you seen the nobles? they don't use their face to express at all! he's confused as fuck!!!

by the time he's 19 in canon, he's got a solid hang on interaction with his squad (green praying mantis knights), but he still struggles with people he doesn't know. (he appreciate's kirsch bullshit because he's super expressive and calla can pick up on those things)

agape:

5. Does your OC find it easy to empathise with their enemies? Or do they see it as important to dehumanise them in order to combat them with sufficient determination?

it depends on the person. if the circumstances are right, calla's gonna empathize to fuck. people who have turned to a life of crime because of their money or family problems? he's gonna be the first and best advocate.

nobility? get ready for iron magic: CHAINSAW

philautia:

5. Has your OC always had the same opinion of themselves or has this changed over time? Have they learned to love themselves - perhaps with the help of others - as their journey progressed? Or have the consequences of their actions only served to erode their sense of self-worth?

no. as a kid, calla was super, super self conscious. his mom wasn't deaf, no matter how much she tried her best she didnt. understand. he never was able to connect with local kids. that and he's a bastard child, no one knows who his dad is, least of all him. he's trans, deaf, autistic, and illegitimate. not the most popular lil guy in the common realm.

once he got his hearing aides and joined the magic knights (huge dream of his), he started manifesting like, an insane level of confidence. you WERE going to notice him whether you liked it or not. loud spells, bright red hair, obscene eye makeup. sure, he had to take the exam twice, and he only got a hand up from the mantis knights (gueldre's ableist), but he got in. his squad was pretty encouraging, and he ends up with a lot of friends, (both canon and friends ocs tee hee). nowadays he's a lot more confident in himself, but he's still got that obnoxious swagger >:)

#he IS loud and he IS annoying and you WILL love him #calla m. #black clover #bc oc #luca #ask game

[imadethisaccountforaheadcannon]

Don't you dare try to ""Inform" me how good and nice these characters are

These are in order of the realisation of me hating and loving privilaged happy villians cause they are so common in realife

SCP 999 the toxic positivity mind control blob said to be purely good but ignoring how ableistic it is to wipe away all the ""bad" how that leads to people not caring when others are suffering like how that blob endorses and enables the foundation cult. Keeps them thinking are the heroes that die for humanity while they torture and enslave everyone humanity included with a almost 1800s mentality of same good different bad and this bloody bitch is a VIP expected saviour that even in top secret meetings in an organisation like that.

I hope my Canon of that toxic bitch being the eyes and ears of the scarlet king ends up more popular and 682 gets to be seen as the torture victim they are and get the therapy they need.

Charlie from Hazbin hotel I dwelled on her less cause she littrally only has a pilot but I actually think she is a bad ruler. This bitches solution to the realms overpopulation issues is to conform her population and send them to the same people sending a yearly invasion force wow no wonder her future citizens never respect her.

If you want to do good in hell then do good in hell your next in line you have the power to do it actually do legit improvements make hell have culture be its own thing. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up having the elitist fatal flaw from a story perspective they can use her to screw over IMP without screwing over IMP with her various Elon Musk like schemes that don't actually help her society whatsoever.

And of note

for fucks sake yearly exterminations constitute declaring war get a fucking army and use it your current plan is probably gonna end with heaven having a new slave class.

And last and current From the Sun and Moon show that Sunnyofabitch I can't get over the fact he had the nerve to blame moon when he was the one that kept him shoved his own brother down into his own mind for years and constantly blame everything on him. I might have let that past go attribute that to him being designed like that if he didn't spent every freaking movement that moon couldn't do giving moon his self hate issues.

If it even occurred to his narcissistic ass to stop thinking himself as the victim and actually try to help the one he literally in control over in every aspect physically,emotionally,socially but no he didn't he choose to reinforce moons truama because of that I don't even care about moons violence or even a grimm understanding of it being a allround shit situation. Moon got like that cause he had no choice in his actions sun did and had them nerve to scream about ""Its your fault,,. and go on a tirade about him ""Not being able to do anything,,.

Then Moon finally opened up after most of his literal existance and I had to read between the fricken lines as the saying goes telling sun ""Stop being a child,, was a backhanded fricken compliment he fricken told us of his truama in a backhanded compliment to sun the one who gave him that truama how messed up is that.

Sun's not a child he's not a uwu precious he was made to be moons leash holder and he had enough interpersonal skills to make moon apologise so many times after finally standing up for himself and then he was made to feel guilty about it and forgetting he even had a point as well Meanwhile sun just let himself being the ""good one" like usual.

And honestly I'm actually want him to have a reality check like the police threatening to seize and possibly decommission moon if sun doesen't get him under control and shutting him up with legit legal documents telling him that he's actually designed to be responsible and actually has some ownership rights over moon.

Which would promptly freak him the fuck out but it would be worth it.

Tues 14th March 2023 sun doesn't just have Mary sue traits he is a Mary sue now.

Oh yeah just remembered one of the older ones Jack kline from supernatural strangely I didn't immediately put it together until someone pointed it out I don't remember who I don't feel like remembering shit àbout his entitled ass accept apparently using the fact he warped around heaven to suit the humans despite it being the only place for angels and Naomi being ultra ticked about that.

And to be honest It's unlikely that these guys would actually get there downfall cause others like happy people succeeding regardless of how bad there actions are fuck toxic positivity.

Actually I only thought is this yesterday and this was added recently but I think I'm mad at the infantilization as well like if someone has sun's anxiety for example suddenly people are unwilling to see them as anything but a pure and if anyone dare give them conquence for their actions the fandom would start hating it hurts these characters in the Long run I see Charlie and sun being able to improve from tough love and I suspect alot of characters would fall under the same category.

#SCP 999 #Hazbin Hotel Charlie #Sun and Moon Show #jack kline #Anti Jack kline #Anti FNAF Sun #Anti SCP 999 #Anti HazbIn Hotel Charlie #holier than thou

[cheridraws]

hello i would like to know more about Patrick his story sounds interesting!

AHHHHH hello yes!!! I would love to talk about Patrick more!!!!!

So Patrick is an oc in this little story i've been developing over the last couple of years!! He's my main character (one of four) and is the most Fucked in my opinion, haha, so you know he's my favorite guy to talk about

Patrick is a character that has deeply fucked up in the past and spends sooooo much of his present trying to atone for those mistakes

So, beginning info:

broke as hell

was kicked out of his house at 18. this was mostly due to said family's struggle with poverty. this is important

has a twin bro (that i will get into later)

He spent some time in debt trouble with no help and was living on the run for a couple of years before he met this entity called Lasair (aka, a Spirit, which are basically the gods of this world). They bond, and it extends an olive branch to Patrick. Aka the guy basically desperate for connection and love. Lasair is an asshole who uses this to its advantage. I'm summing up a lot here, but in short, Patrick winds up helping Lasair with its plan to burn the world to the ground bc humanity sucks ass and we’re all terrible and deserve to be destroyed (but not actually!!!! The whole story is abt fighting this worldview). Eventually, after a lot of thinking and some convincing from some of their victims, he starts to have doubts,,, and oh well shit he’s got a brother doesn’t he. There might be a few ppl worth saving,,, oh no…. So he realizes that he needs to stop this right now actually (again, this is summed up, but that whole process takes a good few years of doubt in order to kick in. bestie's been thoroughly indoctrinated into lasair's thing for a while)

Patrick runs away, and vows to destroy Lasair's whole operation. Unfortunately, he's back on the run and is being chased down by some of Lasair's assets. Back to square one, basically.

BUT, he does have one hope!!! His twin, Philemon (Phil, who I often misspell as Phile, lol), who he has been estranged from for about a decade now, is still kicking, so Patrick runs over to him for help because who else is he supposed to ask. From here, the two of them begin to travel together (Phil, unwillingly at first) and try to find a way to defeat Lasair, later recruiting two more friends!! (who i'm still developing jskfjlj)

His character is sooo fun for me to talk about, mostly because he kinda fits most archetypes of characters i adore haha. Deeply fucked little guy who's learning how to love again <3 and is having to unlearn a loooooooot of stuff, holy shit

Speaking of which: he's got some real bad martyr issues, and believes that his actions during that decade he spent with Lasair define him; he thinks he is irredeemable. In life, anyways. His whole plan is to kill off or seal away Lasair in some big, grand, self-sacrificing act so he can a, destroy the monster he feels he created and b, somewhat redeem himself in death. Like,, he believes that this is the only thing that can redeem him to both his loved ones and family, so he's dead set on this ending despite his loved one's objections. Of course, over the course of traveling with Phil and the later members of their group, he sort-of begins to see the beauty in living, which becomes a nice contrast to Lasair's view of the world!! His whole character arc ends with him realizing that he wants to live and it makes me sob

anyways here's a few things I don't know how to work into this coherently but want to mention anyways:

he literally befriends the spirit of death. they're besties bc he nearly dies a lot. also death might kinda be into him,, bc apparently he’s a magnet for weird godlike creature’s attraction

is my ace icon <3

fucked a literal fire. like it was lasair but,, that spirit's made of fire my guy…. how are you doing….

O yeah,,,, him and Las were kind of in a relationship. I say kind of bc it didn’t have a label but like. Yeah. And it wasn’t good

actually yeah ask me abt lasair its design makes me unwell /posi so do all the other spirits

he decided the best course of action into getting phil to help him was a, break into his apartment, b, accidentally terrorize him with the people trying to hunt him down, and c, kidnap?? him??? (but only for like a minute)

those assets are called the Illusionist and the Mirror btw and i like them too

Actually Pls somebody help Phil all he wanted was to escape his hometown and become a big shot engineer he did not want to be roped into whatever the hell this is

anyways. I am completely unwell for him and think about him way too much,,, i really need to work on developing it more than i have,,, especially since i've got a whooollee lot of worldbuilding to do hehe. Thanks for asking about him though!!!! I hope this was coherent, haha, i've been dying to talk abt this fella for ages

(and feel free to ask me more i could write essays abt him)

#ask me anything #my rambles #oc stuff #EXPLODES #he means everything to me #as do most of my ocs #and i didn't even get into the stuff about spirits.... aobut the worldbuilding.... #THE SONGBIRD????? LASIAR'S DESIGN?????? #phile's own shit he's got going on and how he literally caused all of this too bc he released lasiar to begin with... #patrick and philes struggles bc the last time they ever spoke to each other was a huge fight... they both felt abandoned... #the fucking daddy issues #how they were both raised in poverty and how that affected them throughout the entire rest of the story???!!!??? #scREAmS #i get so nervous talking abt my own ideas haha... i hope this is coherent

[deanstudies101]

4x03, In The Beginning

Critical theory: Guilt and secrets. Destiny and inevitability. The role of the mother/wife.

Discussion point/question(s): Dean was willing to sacrifice his happiness in dream a little dream, but not now… why? [Because it's not his life on the line this time]. Returning to our discussion last episode, even Mary and her family had a home. What do we think Azazel’s real plan could be? Trans readings.  

Key quotes: Mary, "You know the worst thing I can think of? The very worst thing? Is for my children to be raised into this like I was. No, I won't let it happen."; Dean, “Promise me you won’t get out of bed.”; Dean, "Oh, I care. I care a lot, but these are my parents. I'm not gonna let them die again. I can't."

Further reading: 

The gay little sit that inflicted Misha Collins with workplace homophobia for the next 12 years (@godshipsit)

Discussion: 

Weren’t expecting time travel. 

Kai, so free will doesn’t exist, is what we’ve established here. [Have we?] Iga, I don’t think free will doesn’t exist necessarily, just some things are canon events. 

Liked the back to the future references. 

If things were always inevitable, why can’t they know past that? [As in what Azazel is doing?] Yeah, as in what happens next. [won’t be answering this one.] But it hasn’t happened. But time is fluid. Iga, no, don’t say that to me, that means something to me. That's not what’s happening here. What if he just tied up his shit so well that it never gets revealed until it happens. Kai, but we do know that some aspect of the future can be revealed, that’s what happens with Sam. The issue with time travel episodes is they introduce a whole load of questions/issues. Iga, no they don’t, they didn’t retcon anything, this was just Dean learning information. [This was exposition]. If Mary was more honest with John, they might have been able to change things. Kai, if this was about Dean learning the truth, why bother sending Dean’s whole ass back instead of showing him in a dream. Iga, my guy doesn’t believe in God, or maybe Cas just wanted to see what Dean would do. [He needed to see it. Also, he needed to feel helpless imo. He needed to learn he can’t stop it.] 

Azazel’s plan. There’s no way all of these people have an exact 6 month old in 10 years, or the plan is wibbly wobbly, except we know all the kids are 6 months old at the same time. Like they all get their powers at the same time. [My interpretation. He made a lot of deals, way more than the number of children he ended up with. The ones that worked out, worked out, the rest didn’t.] Kai, he really liked Mary though… what if the whole thing was designed around her/Sam lol. 

Dean trying to save Mary. It’s not the first time that he’s wished for Mary to be alive, but he’s gotta know it’s not gonna work. But he knows he has to try. 

Mary’s worst fear. That got him. He didn’t want his childhood to be like that. And it hurts to know she didn’t want it either. And John raised them like that for Mary. And she would hate it, she did everything she could to escape it. AND SHE HAD A HOUSE [lol]. That bastard. But how could he know? She never told him. 

Dream a little dream. It’s himself vs. his parents. His life or their lives. It’s the lack of self-worth. Sumner, or is he just more disillusioned now. Iga, or he knows deep down it isn’t going to work, he’s just going through the motions. He says he does care about the people he’s saved dying if he saves Mary—he says he cares a lot, and we’ve never heard him say that before. He says that to Cas, and he’s never, he would never to Sam. [Yes. He does say it to Cas. They’ve met three times, and Dean already feels comfortable sharing very intimate, very vulnerable thoughts/feelings.]

Dean is Cas’ special little boy. Dean might not see it this way, but he is. Maybe it’s because he is an angel—aren’t they supposed to be guardians?—so he might consider Cas to be this guardian that cares about him, and he feels safe enough to say something. 

Kai, I think it’s the autism to autism communication. Iga, it might be that too. Kai, Dean always sidestepped conversations, but that doesn’t work here! So what’s the point? He’s forced to be straight up. Sumner, and Cas is someone he doesn’t have to protect. He doesn't need to protect Cas from his feelings. Cas is stronger, Dean can’t hurt him, doesn’t have to worry about him, it puts them on equal grounds. If anything, Cas is protecting Dean. And Dean’s never had that before! He was a ten year old with a gun. [Angels are watching over you.] 

Kai, Dean isn’t masking. And I think there’s some gender to it. Cas is an angel—therefore without gender—and maybe Dean picks up on that. Dean doesn’t do the gruff masculine thing with women, so maybe Dean is recognising some of Cas’ lack of gender, so some of that mask isn’t needed. [bro.] Iga, Dean has specific behaviours with women, and specific behaviour with men, and this is… neither of those. Cas is non-binary, and the way that we know that is Dean’s behaviour towards him. [A lot has been said about their immediate intimacy, but I had. Never considered this.] Iga, he has a different mask with men and women, but he’s more likely to unmask with women, because he gets flustered. He’s not flustered with Cas, but more… intimidated? [Does Dean unmask more with women? What about Ronald?] Iga, Ronald was a man who, by society’s standards, wouldn't be seen as macho or manly. He was safer. [He can also easily be read as autistic.] Kai, I can see how omegaverse came to be. There are such complex things going on with gender. Iga, to oppress Dean. Dean was such a bottom they invented a gender. [Okay now we’re just discussing who would be omega/alpha etc]*

 Trans readings. They were confused on this one. [You want to name your children after your deceased parents, sure, makes sense. Your first child is born, a beautiful baby boy. Your eldest son. You name him after… your mother? Makes no damn sense. Naming your second son after your mother kinda tracks, like. If it had been Sam and then Dean, sure. Why Deanna first? Because they didn’t know they had a son. They named their first born, a daughter, after Mary’s mother, and their second, a son, after her father. Is this foolproof logic? Of course not. Is it interesting? Absolutely.]

Azazel is a gay icon for real. He’s fruity. He slays. He did walks he strutted he was pouting he was arching his back. Queen.  

Azazel’s plan. Didn’t think it would still be relevant. Kai, it probably has something to do with Lucifer, maybe he’s against Lucifer and wants to have an alternative. Iga, or maybe whoever releases Lucifer gets a lot of favour, so he was going to like, send Sam on these missions to break the seals to get in with Lucifer. 

Re the gay sit. Okay but why is he sitting like that? 

Star student: Kai, the discussion about gender + masking. There was absolutely no reason for you to blow our minds like that, but thank you king.

Notes: Visiting student Sumner.

*Putting the rest of the a/b/o conversation under the cut because we got incredibly off track. However this developed into a very interesting discussion about gender and imo it's worth reading

Iga, see Bela wouldn’t be an omega.

They have classes of men. They have cardboard cutouts of characters, of masculinity or femininity. Layers of masculinity. Similar to the third archetype we came up with for women. With men it’s… alpha, beta, omega. The writers did this to themselves. The masculine subtypes are y, the feminine are x. [So now I’m gonna need to make this.] But they have three cutouts for men and three for women, but in abo the secondary genders are for all primary genders. Dnd alignments. Abo extended edition. Bela was bitch/alpha. We know she is Dean, but she fucked Dean several times. Alpha. Dean is an omega… is he whore? Because he’s not a madonna. [Isn’t he? Because I think he could easily be madonna. He’s Sam’s mom. He’s a mother.] Oh yeah. We’re just attracted to Dean.

Sam is a madonna/beta. [Very little discussion or explanation on this.] 

[Cas is alpha/bitch] Iga… like Bela. Which is why they… [Henrickson, also alpha/bitch. Dean’s type is alpha/bitch]. We’ve broken this down to the nine essential genders. 

They’re a bit confused on ‘beta’, especially beta vs. omega. Do we need more gender here? 

The writers must pick up on this [this being, Cas not being hyper masculine / being a nb icon], and maybe that’s why Misha Collins is treated so shit. [Arguably true. This is the episode of “the gay little sit”.]

#supernatural #4x03 #spn 4x03 #in the beginning #class notes

[censoredsecret]

Can I get a read more in here pls why is this so hard on mobile

Tw for Daddy issues related to mental illness, addiction, divorce and death

….

Yeah you know what I can’t believe my fucking dad who was there for my birth didn’t consider me worth getting a grip on his mental health issues when he had care in all places for him, which also led him to not stay clean or sober

My mom had to leave his ass to get away from that shit and keep me and my sib not to see how bad he was plus he was taking out money of her bank account and stealing money and cards shed hidden in the house and had cameras watching him to see him do it….

Yet he tried to be in our lives still bc of how much I loved him and he came down and tried to get better but then he was asking me for gas money and I didn’t want my mom and stepdad to know so I would give him some from my allowance/studies I did for childhood anxiety that’d pay me for literally crying my eyes out every night thinking of him and going through the worst separation anxiety in my life

He stopped being okay. He disappeared. He didn’t have any good advocates or he didn’t listen to them and lost their help. I wish he’d get better. But he’s already so far gone. But he sounds so seeet and loving and he was asking money from me and my sib again when we got back in touch years later and I was going to invite him to ny wedding but I felt like he must be doing something to abuse his money which his funds handler was managing for him for his own sake and he’d spend it on anything but shelter…. Why wouldn’t he stay somewhere. Why. Why, why when he has the money from social security to pay for everythigg is he asking me to help him pay for a hotel bc he doesn’t have an apartment anymore bc bc bc bc it’s the guys fault every time or they haven’t done anything to help them and didn’t listen to him but yet he can sit there and talk all day about himself on the phone and I know he knows how to make himself heard so I can’t tell anymore what’s the truth or lies from him does he even love me enough to stay in touch because once I didn’t invite him to the weddigg n and didn’t want to keep giving him money and set my boundaries but said I’d like to be friends and work this relationship out and come see you sometime and he’s ghosting me now. Maybe he can’t afford a phone on whatever budget plan he seems to be doing….

There’s the honest possibility that a lot of this is bc he didn’t get the right help at the right times or he doesn’t have the right resources or the right resources are ableist and classist so it’s not helping more than hurting and wow I just don’t know anymore how to be healthy and have s relationship with this man who I think of so much now and wonder if he’s sitting there depressed because he can’t be my dad and so he’s driven further into self destructive behavior and addiction

I’m going to have to ask him one day. Before he dies, and I lose the chance. I’m already grieving my step dad dying from cancer in front of me as I stayed away for uni and had to watch his suffering st the very end…. It was so much and this man isn’t even trying to console me for it not once and my mom was the one I called and she was always there for everything even after my stepdad and her divorced and after she got sober after many relapses and I just….. she is so strong. She is working so hard. She’s struggled with addiction since she was a teen. Why didn’t he get a grip. He had a wife and kids and a great job and ptsd and bipolar and it wasn’t in him to get a grip enough to stay in our lives…

Why can’t I even remember why he stopped being in our lives. He used to pick me up for softball. He was there for middle school then for my sickness during sophomore year and then idk… idk what happened after that. Is that my brains way of helping me, or just me honestly not caring enough. I’d detached so much of my love of him from me that it hurts so much to dip into ever again. Meanwhile I would trade time with him for time with my stepdad—my real dad.

#seca venting #seca speaks #addiction tw #divorce tw #death tw #just so sad that I have these #daddy issues tw #not ashamed #just crying

[mzminola]

AN ENTIRE FUCKING YEAR WITHOUT A GUARDIAN???

Oh wow. I knew about the fake uncle thing but this timeline, geez. Okay. So. Tim’s dad dies, and his stepmom is not an option. There’s maybe a few days or weeks where Tim is just kinda on his own, and then Bruce offers to adopt him, framing it as keeping him out of the foster system because Bruce is incapable of telling people he wants them around.

Tim decides to fake an uncle instead. Like full on slew of fake documents and hiring an actor for in-person stuff like talking to the school. Moves out of Gotham to Bludhaven, fights some crime with Cass. Bruce figures out his uncle is fake, praises the skills it took Tim to pull it off, and offers to help him maintain the lie instead of bringing up adoption or fostering again.

Considering that Bruce was Tim’s legal guardian when Jack was in a coma, it should be fairly straightforward to just make Bruce Tim’s foster dad again if they wanted to keep Tim out of the system without adopting him. So Bruce is making it clear that he’s perfectly willing to let Tim, a massively traumatized teenager, live on his own with nobody making sure he eats, takes care of his health, or pursues his education.

Then the whole Infinite Crisis thing happens at the same time as Under the Red Hood, Bludhaven gets nuked while the heroes are out of town, and then there’s...

A one year time skip. An entire year goes by.

And it isn’t until several issues post-timeskip that Bruce makes his offer to adopt Tim again.

Tim has gone over a year in his mid-teens of having no legal guardian, none whatsoever, while Bruce just...does jack shit. Batman continues to be Robin’s vigilante mentor/boss, and after a world tour thing Tim lives at Wayne Manor, but he still went with no legal guardian for over a year. What the fuck.

I know Tim dropped out of school so parent-teacher conferences aren’t a thing, but he still needs to go to the doctor. Who’s been signing his vaccination forms? Has Alfred just been his primary medical provider and the Bats are faking his documents?

And then for the cherry on top of Tim’s self-worth nightmare, Damian moves into the Manor three issues later. He’s...ten? I think? Tim’s friendly and Damian blows him off, threatens him, and is rude to Alfred. Bruce privately explains that he couldn’t leave Damian with Talia (and her army of man-bats).

Tim immediately wants to know “What about us?” Yeah, that’s a pretty expected question for a neglected kid that just got some stability. He wants to know if he’s gonna be expected to fend for himself again.

Bruce says “This doesn’t change anything,” followed by a lot of reasons why Damian’s life has been hard, ending with “If he is my son -- even if he’s not -- he deserves some love and my respect.”

Tim: “So let him earn it, like everybody else.” /storms off/

When I read this issue the first time around that line seemed pretty harsh. Damian's a little kid and Tim’s usually friendly even to jerks*, but in light of that timeline up there yeah, okay, that’s a totally understandable response. Bruce spent over a year leaving Tim high and dry, after Tim had been Robin for three years and saved his ass multiple times, and only just now offered to be Tim’s parent.

Like. Fucking hell. What a kick in the pants.

Congrats, Tim, everything about your experience with Batman says that you do have to earn love and respect, that he thinks it’s perfectly reasonable to let you live on your own in your mid-teens when you’ve just experienced multiple major traumas in a row, and now you’ve finally been offered a stable home.

What’s this? A kid shows up out of the blue, not only doesn’t do anything useful but is actively hostile, and Batman says he deserves love and respect?

What the fuck is Tim supposed to do with this contradiction?

No wonder he nopes the hell out when Bruce is ‘dead’ and Dick makes Damian into Robin.

*And Tim’s still nice! He doesn’t say this in front of Damian, and later he says they got off to a bad start and offers to spar! He’s freaked out about his place in the family and still tries to be nice to the kid who was rude (it does not work, Damian throws a grenade at him).

#Tim Drake #comics meta #Bruce Wayne #being an utter failure of a mentor and parent #fucking WOW dude #Batfam #DC #comics timelines are a nightmare #OVER A YEAR #OVER A FUCKING YEAR

[wormstacheangel]

Suptober Day 8: Leather and Lace/ Day1 Gen's follower celebration: "I can't believe you."

wc:1.2k tags: married destiel, fluff, cas has self-worth issues

Castiel likes to think he is good at giving gifts. Or at least that he is okay at it.

He tries his best, but sometimes he could see that he once again missed the mark in the other’s eyes. Sometimes he doesn’t understand things entirely, like sure he understands that Jack likes Star Wars and knows about it, but his kid has an emotional bond to the movie that he can’t truly understand.

Just like Dean. He forms emotional ties to every movie, show, and character he sees on screen. At least it felt like he did. Castiel tried to understand; he listened and watched but couldn’t find it compelling enough to grab his attention. Why care about a fictional world when his real life was much more interesting?

But today, he knows for sure that he found a wonderful gift that his husband will like.

“A journal?” Dean looked over the gift Cas just handed him.

Dean was sitting on the couch reading a new book Patience recommended for him. Once again, she was right, and he loved it.

“Yes.” Cas tucked his feet underneath him as he sat beside Dean. “It’s made of leather, and I had your initials engraved on the inside.”

Cas watched Dean’s slight smile as he opened the book up, flipping through the empty pages before his fingers traced the burnt-in initials.

“You don’t like it,” Cas concluded when the silence continued.

“No.” Cas frowned, but Dean quickly reached over to tug at Cas’ lower lip. “Stop pouting. I like it.” Dean weighed the journal in his hand. “Love it, actually. Thanks for adding sketch paper inside.”

“I know you like to draw.” Another hobby Dean can now focus on. Now that he wasn’t worried about saving the world every other day.

“I do.” Dean reached forward and took Cas’s hand. “I love it, Cas.”

“You don’t have to lie, Dean. I understand I suck at picking out gifts.”

Dean lifts his eyebrows at that. “What? Who told you that?”

“Nobody.” He honestly answered, his fingers playing with Dean’s. “I just assumed.”

“Well. You know what they say about people who assume.”

Cas thought about it for a few seconds before he understood. “Ah. I’m an ass.”

Dean chuckled before tugging Cas closer until he was pressed to Dean’s side.

“Not what I meant.” Cas happily let himself become draped over Dean. Watching as his eyes brightened up when Cas was practically on top of him. Their faces were inches away from each other. “Why do you think we don’t like your gifts?”

“I don’t know. I just,” Cas thought about it, picking his words wisely before answering. “Nobody is ever excited for them.”

Dean blinked at him for a second, maybe trying to pick his own wise words, before he gave Cas a small kiss. He smiled into it, and Cas sat there trying to understand what was so funny.

“Cas,” Dean sighed, a smile in his tone. “You’re the best gift-giver.”

“You flatter me but-”

“Shut up.” Dean kissed him again, letting the kiss linger a little longer before he pulled away. “I bet you noticed all my loose napkins.”

“I have. I keep all your little sketches. I enjoy them a lot.”

“Thanks, Sweetheart. But, point is, I haven’t said shit to you about it. And yet you buy me a journal with pages filled with sketching paper.”

“I thought you would like it. Maybe keep all your sketches in one place.”

“Yeah. Exactly my point, Cas.” Cas opened his mouth to ask Dean to get to the point instead of making this conversation longer and much more complicated than it had to be, but Dean shushed him before he got a chance. “You’re thoughtful. You see things that we need that we don’t ask for, and you just give it to us like you read our mind or something. Like, I have been thinking of getting into sketching but wasn’t sure if I was good enough to get into the actual paper. And voila, you give me this.”

Cas smiled; he looked at Dean with narrowed eyes still. “I don’t do that. Read your mind, I mean.”

“I know.”

“Does everyone else feel the same?”

“Cas, Claire takes that ugly stuffed cat everywhere she goes. Sam and Eileen can have full-on conversations because you took the time to teach Sam how to sign. You bought Kaia all the Junie B Jones books cause she mentioned it once during dinner, and now she clings to you. And do I have to mention that Jack’s comic collection is so fucking huge?”

“Does he enjoy those? I always try to look for good hero role models for him.”

“Dude, you live under a rock? The kid is obsessed with them!” Dean presses his smile into Cas’s jaw. “Your gifts are the best. I promise. You are always giving us gifts that show us that you are listening. That you are watching. That you’re...well, that you’re taking care of us. Cause you love us and shit.”

Cas chuckled, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders as he tilted his head back just enough until their lips touched. Kissing once again and letting Dean’s words bounce around in his head, feeling overwhelmed that he was being seen this way. Happy that they all know from the small gifts that yes, yes, he loves them all.

Dean pulls away, staring at Cas with wide eyes before they turn warm and teasing. “I can’t believe you.” Cas quickly hides his face into Dean’s shoulder. “Are you, Sweetheart, are you crying?”

“No.” Cas wiped his face in the soft t-shirt; it still smelled of the new dryer sheets Dean picked up the day before. Floral.

“I love you. You know that?” Dean pressed kisses into his hair. His hands rubbed circles into his back while he maneuvered Cas to sit on his lap. All this gentleness was still hard for Cas to wrap his mind around. How can this man that he holds so dear see him the same? Maybe he doesn’t. Cas always understood that while Dean loves him, his husband will never understand how strongly his love for Dean is. How rooted it is to the world around them. But Dean never needs to know. All he has to know is that he is loved. “I should say it more.”

“You should.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They just sat there for a while, enjoying the enveloping warmth and comfort that the other brings before they were back looking at the journal Cas had given him.

“What’s with the lace detailing on the inside? Is that-?”

“Part of our wedding suits. I thought it would look nice.”

“Down to the details. You know,” Dean put the journal down on the coffee table before he turned towards Cas. A twinkle of mischief in his eyes made Cas’s heart race. “If you keep doing nice shit for me, I am gonna go down on you.”

Cas’s eyes widen before he cleared his throat. Trying to find his voice while watching his husband get on his knees in front of him. “I um, maybe I’ll make…Fuck. I’ll make dinner.”

Dean laughed, “God no.”

“I...I won’t make dinner?”

“Thank you for being kind.”

#got busy yesterday and didn't get a chance to post it before I passed out #so a day late but the other one will be posted later today! #i hate being behind but i am not missing a day! #suptober21 #wormstachewrites #destiel #fic

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #knives out #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

[cosmicclownboy]

hi- why don't you like Maria?

Oh lord.

Where do I even begin with Maria.

Season 1

Makes a joke about Alex's secret relationship being with Wyatt and finding it funny- (Wyatt who is an abusive racist dude who commits hate crimes and bear in mind she knows Alex was abused for being gay) IT'S GROSS.

Speaks about Alex's secret relationship guy being his home to Alex and literally feels his hopefulness because it is part of her alien ability and continues to pursue Michael in s2.

Maria (straight) outs Michael to Liz. That's not okay on any level.

When Liz tells Maria to speak to Alex before doing anything she ignores the advice and does what she wants.

She's really smug about Michael picking/pursuing her like she won.

Season 2

Pursues Michael at a funeral in front of Alex without talking to him.

Makes Michael's loved ones husband funeral about a relationship status

Slut shames a random woman who makes out with Michael when they were never exclusive

Enters a relationship with Michael where he has to be exclusive but she doesn't because she doesn't believe he could be faithful. That's reeks of harmful biphobia stereotypes.

Ignores Alex the whole time UNTIL she needs something.

When she appears at Alex's door she says they are even. AKA comparing Alex not telling her a secret that wasn't his to share to her pursuing the love of his life in front of him without any empathy and ignoring the whole time.

Bitches to Alex about Liz and wanting fuck all to do with her. Alex has to remind her Liz has a dead boyfriend and is struggling cause Maria only has Maria vision and lacks empathy for her 'best friends'.

Uses her mom's laptop to get the scope on Alex/Michael's relationship which reads 100% manipulative. She even says Michael is pushing you away and then proceeds to encourage the narrative where Michael pushes Alex away because she suddenly wants Michael. And of course Alex is supportive she recognises he lacks self worth and rolls over him.

Beginning of 2x06 she tries to set up Forlex to get Alex away from Michael. Once again manipulative.

Tries to make Alex feel guilty for being gay in 206 because when she was a kid she idealised being with him and had to come up with a whole new plan. He grew up in an abusive household you know that....It's not okay to say that. You know how much internalised homophobia he has.

When saying he's had good relationships provides only examples of relationships with women......................HE IS GAY.

Asks him if he would change being gay.......jfc.

Alex tearfully saying he dissociates with women because he clearly forced himself to out of internalised phobia, Maria takes it to mean she has a chance. She thinks she's the exception since a touch starved abuse victim liked to be touched by her in high school. That doesn't = consent.

When Alex, a whole ass Airforce Captain tells her it's unsafe to stay at the creepo's place she acts all I am feminist about it and this results in Alex being stabbed and Michael getting whacked on the head.

Earlier in the episode she whinges to Alex about Michael kissing another woman in front of her and how cruel it was and then proceeds to kiss Michael in front of Alex KNOWING how he feels for Michael.

In THAT scene it's clear she notices Michael's emotions towards Alex and is insecure about it. She uses Malex's feelings for each other to her advantage. She's chasing the fantasy of getting with Alex. These are two highly traumatised queer men who struggle to say no because they spent their lives in abusive environments.

Neither Michael or Alex were in a position to consent to sex that night Michael is concussed from a whack on the head . Alex has lost a lot of blood and is completely out of it. And neither would ever initiate that situation. Not to mention the assumption Michael would be down because he's bi is so harmful as a stereotype.

"I think she’s cool with her decision. She wanted some answers, so subconsciously there was an emotional comfort she needed. But she also had a little bit of an agenda. She needed some decisions made about the status of their relationships, so she thought, “Let’s throw everything against the wall and see where it lands.” I think she was just wondering if they made any progress on that front. She said it was OK for their feelings to be out in the open, but let’s just voice them for what they are. As we saw, Michael stepped up and was like, “No, I still love you and I’m with you.” Secretly, that’s what Maria was hoping for. By suggesting a threesome, she’s was basically telling Michael, “Make your choice… and I hope it’s me.” this is what Heather said about the scene. So not only was it coercive and such but she used her best friend like that with no care or empathy whatsoever. It's disgraceful.

The next day both Michael and Alex are confused by what the fuck happened. Alex due to his C-PTSD completely dissociates from the situation and Michael attempts to laugh it off despite him being hella confused. The only person who isn't confused is Maria who is listening to them from inside.

When Michael comes in she turns on the tears just in case he does want Alex afterwards. Bear in mind she is a psychic who can feel everything and she assumed Michael was going to go after Alex. Doesn't that say it all. SHE KNOWS MICHAEL IS IN LOVE WITH ALEX AND VICE VERSA. She does not care, because at the end of the day this is what she wants. She wants to win. She wants to treat Michael like this trophy that she can show off to people I got the great Michael Guerin not a relationship guy to date me.

When Michael wants to have emotional conversations she shuts it down for sex. The entirety of the relationship it has to be her way or the high way. She also recognises fairly on his abandonment issues and plays upon it, reads manipulative.

When Michael who has lost his mom and brother in the span of a few months asks Maria to be more careful about her abilities she doesn't listen. And ultimately breaks up with Michael when she can't get what she wants from him which is a yes man who will do what she says and isn't the idealised Michael she wants.

Season 3

Shits on Michael any chance she gets. She's so mean to him and he goes out of his way to look out for her.

Is dismissive of her own health despite the fact that everybody goes out of their way to help her. Liz is in California working on a way to help her. Kyle is risking his job.etc

Is fine with Liz, her best friend losing the love of her life to get a vision to prevent a murder. A vision she's only invested in because apparently in it she blames herself.

Is fine with Max or Kyle dealing with the guilt of her death had Michael not saved her.

Shoves Michael and belittles him because he's stronger then her. Infers he just sits on his ass and does nothing therefore does not care about anything....rude. There's also a weird superiority complex that her power is more important then Michaels or any of pod squad for that matter.

Creates a situation that is so bad that Kyle risks his doctors licence to give her adrenaline. Just take an ice bath or something there are a 1000 ways to give yourself adrenaline without risking your life and risking others.

Doesn't thank or acknowledge what Liz is doing for her honey has spent a FULL YEAR of her life trying to help and your just like yeah I'll let her soulmate die for my visions.

Emotionally guilts Isobel for not hanging out with her despite the fact she's hated her for two seasons and now has just randomly decided she wants to know......okay

This idea that Maria is suddenly lonely when she's the second of the main cast (first being Kyle) to have scenes with all the mains by Monday. Literally everyone is there at her beck and call but Maria is lonely??? IT DOESN'T ADD UP. Everyone's up her arse 9/10 how is she lonely everyone expresses concern and care for her ALL THE DAMN TIME. She's also narratively never had scenes that give the connotation that she is lonely. Michael has scenes that connotate he is lonely. Max and Alex do too. Maria has yet to have scenes that give the connotation of feeling lonely or depressed.

Maria comparing the alien siblings to her and feeling left out when she acts superior to them and they are literally siblings. Literally every character is somewhat left out with Pod Squad they've lived their lives assuming it's just them three against the world it's not a personal attack.

Maria is 1/8 alien at best so diluted genetically it doesn't show up and somehow she believes she has the capability of the aliens who are 100%. Say you have French DNA you don't expect to speak French suddenly.

This whole Maria never does wrong narrative and it's empowering that she's doing all of this just feels like a crock of shit tbh.

She reads like a 2000's movie mean girl.

All of my bullet points are why I don't like h Maria and it's not biased because I'm a so and so fan. Narratively she just wins up doing shitty things to Michael and Alex the most.

#anti maria deluca #rnm spoilers #tw 2x06 mention #tw coercion