#(for legal reasons the conning part is a joke)

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Bait and Switch. || Scammer!Reader x Victim!Ghost

Rating: M Words: 2.6K~ Pairing: scammer!Reader x victim(but not really)!Ghost CW: phone scams/conning (reader never actually cons him), financial issues?, threats (Simon threatens to find reader), degradation?. other tags: crack, OOC Simon., you/your pronouns (gn!reader but uses a female fake name), obviously fake names (pun/funny), lying, joking, the weirdest meet cute? a/n: this started out as a joke/crack and turned serious/dark at the end? idk how i did this.

Simon Riley would say that being legally dead is the best thing to have happened to him and that's because it allowed him to escape a bunch of responsibilities that regular men have to uphold.

He gets paid covertly, in full, and does not have to pay taxes on his income.

He rented a flat from a sweet ol' lady, who didn't run a background check or ask for a copy of his birth certificate (terrible choice on her part), and he pays her by dropping an envelope of cash in her mailbox on the 1st of every of the month.

He not only is old enough to drink but also sounds and looks old enough as well, which means he doesn't need I.D. to buy alcohol (not that any shops or bars really care enough to check).

He doesn't have a credit card. Or a debit card for that matter. Hell, he doesn't even have a bank account, so he doesn't have to pay maintenance fees.

He doesn't have a smartphone. And up until recently he only had a pager. In fact, the only reason he doesn't have a pager anymore is because it got shot in the crossfire during a mission... so Price forced him to get a jitterbug.

In short... Simon Riley can escape a lot of things (death, taxes, Philip Graves...). But telemarketers and phone scammers are not one of those things.

That's how, on a boring Wednesday afternoon, his new phone ends up ringing, like it had been doing multiple times a week for the last four weeks.

Telemarketers.

He never got telemarketers on his pager.

He hated telemarketers.

But that didn't mean he blocked them-

"What?" He answered as soon as he picked up the phone.

An automated voice came over the call, one of those typical Siri-esque robot voices, delivering a prepared speech: "Congratulations! You've won a free cruise to the Bahamas! To claim your prize, press 1."

Oh, now, this was different. He didn't need to hear more to know it was a scam call. But that didn't mean he was going to hang up.

So Simon pressed key 1, which caused a beep to sound over the call.

"Thank you!" The automated voice continued. "We are now connecting you to a live operator to claim your prize!"

Barely a millisecond went by before you took over the call. "Good afternoon, this is Stella Gormoni with Blissful Blessings Inc.! Who am I speaking with?"

As stereotypical as it is, Simon had expected a different voice on the other end of the line... maybe from a scammer in a foreign country who'd speak heavily-accented English...

But instead, he got a sweet and professional sounding person... It almost made him second-guess the scam that was being pulled on him.

His mind moved quick at coming up with a fake name. Not just a fake one, but a pun one too. "Wanh'a, first name Aiden." He replied, his gruff voice reverberating on the call.

"And how do you spell that?" You asked him politely, and, through your headset, he could hear your keyboard keys clacking in the background.

"That's A-I-D-E-N." He replied as he entered his kitchen, spelling his first, as if that was somehow what was causing you difficulty.

"Uh-huh!" You acknowledged in a peppy tone. "And... your surname?" You asked him.

"W-A-N-H-'-A." He continued spelling as he crossed the small kitchen, hearing your fingers tapping away at your keyboard in his ear.

For a moment, you didn't talk, as if stunned into silence. Had you just picked up on the fact he was trolling you by giving you a name that, phonetically, sounded like 'I Don't Wanna'? Probably. But you hadn't hung up yet.

"Well, congratulations, Mr. Wanh'a, you just won an all-inclusive, two-week long cruise to the Bahamas!" Your peppy tone made him bite his lip to contain a laugh. Well, at least you were dedicated in continuing the scam. "How are you feeling?"

"Very well, and yourself?" Simon asked casually as he leaned himself against the door of his refrigerator, leaning down to look inside and find a snack.

"I'm doing very well, thank you, sir." You replied in a cheerful tone. "So, let's process the information so we can get you your prize, shall we?" You announced in a polite tone.

"Go right on ahead, sweet'eart." He murmured as he grabbed a yogurt and closed the fridge with his hip, sitting at the table and peeling open the lid.

"Well, for us to start, I'm going to need your-"

"Actually, I have a question, before we start." Simon interrupted your speech, cutting off your silver-tongued lies.

You went silent for just a moment before you replied with a sweet little: "Of course, what can I help you with, Mr. Wanh'a?"

"I want to know how exactly I signed up to receive this prize." Simon replied before he placed a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth.

He was trying to accomplish two things by doing this: 1) throw you off your game and make you stammer and stutter, and 2) see how long it took for you to get annoyed, and hang up on him.

"Well, that's what I was going to explain, you see-" You replied, a smile behind your voice, but his trained ears could pick up the slight frustration. It made Simon smile.

"Oh, then, I'm sorry for interrupting you, sweet'art, please go ahead." He replied and gestured with his spoon, as if giving you the stage, unnecessarily so, because you were not there to watch it.

"As I was saying... You were entered automatically into the draw by buying a cereal box of any Kellog's cereal at Tesco. I'm sure you saw a 'Win a free cruise!' sticker on yours?" You asked in a professional and sickly-sweet tone.

He could see right through your scam, he had already done that. You name a famous brand, one people trust, to trick naive or impressionable ones into believing you...

Normal people would tell you they no longer have the cereal box, many of them naive enough to believe your scam despite the fact they hadn't even bought one of those boxes in the first place...

Next, you'd ask for the card used to make the purchase, and some people were dumb enough to read their number aloud to you...

Oh, how he hated scammers. Even more than telemarketers.

"I do remember seeing something like that..." He murmured, his voice deepening, before he popped another spoonful of yogurt past his lips, loudly smacking them right against the receiver of his jitterbug.

"Well, all I need is for you to get the box and read me the code that's imprinted on the inside of the flap!" You announced.

"Well, you see, I would, sweet'art... But my sight isn't so good anymore..." Simon replied. "I'm getting up there in age, you know?" He continued eating his yogurt.

"I understand, sir." You replied. "I'm sorry to hear that. One of my cousins also started losing his vision pretty early." You announced.

Huh.

There was no hint of forced sympathy in your voice.

No, you were being genuine. That was a real story of your life you were telling him...

But you had picked up on the fact he was trolling you, right? So why were you-

"Good thing though, about this system of ours, is that you can just confirm your credit card details so we can double check them and get you that prize!" You had, your tone right back to the scamming silver-tongue you had held until now.

Secretly, Simon had to admit that he admired your commitment to the bit. He couldn't help but smile a bit, amused.

"Oh, of course. Let me just set you down while I get my card." Simon replied and got up, finishing his yogurt and tossing out the plastic container, popping the spoon into the sink, and, after setting down his phone, he walked out of the room.

Simon glanced down at his wrist watch, noting the time on it, then, approached his bedroom door, grabbing his over-the-door pull-up bars, and began doing a quick set, leaving you to 'wait' for him in the kitchen.

After a few sets, he waltzed back into the kitchen and grabbed his phone again. "You still there, da'lin'?" He beckoned in a gruff tone.

You sighed, your politeness sounding slightly more forced. He had kept you waiting for over ten minutes after all. "Yes, sir, I am. Did you get your card, Mr. Wanh'a?"

"Oh, please, enough of this 'sir' thing, Mr. Wanh'a was my mother." He replied, then went silent for just a beat, almost like he could hear your frustration sizzling on he other end.

He was being more and more obvious with his trolling... And it pleased him immensely to imagine a parasite like you seething on the other end of the line, reaching your wits' end.

"You can just call me 'Ai', it's what my friends call me." Simon continued, a smirk forming on his lips. "And we're friends now, right? You're giving me a cruise and everythin'." He added, his tone just as charismatic and peppy as his had been.

"I guess we are!" You replied, returning the overly cheery tone. "So, 'Ai Wanh'a', then?" You asked, but he could hear the mix of frustration and amusement behind your voice.

"Yeah? What d'you want, babygirl?" Simon asked, unable to resist making a more impish remark. And, unfortunately, it had the desired result. It genuinely caused your brain to blue-screen for a moment.

Sure, you'd experienced plenty of people getting angry at you when you attempt to scam them, or even trolling you the same way this bloke was doing but...

It was definitely a first, to have someone flirt with you, even if it was still part of his trolling attempt.

"Your... credit card details?" You ended up adding, your voice still showing the surprise and light meekness that came from him catching you off-guard.

"Oh, of course. Are you ready? It's a very complex number." He replied.

"Ready when you are." You added as you steeled yourself for another smartass response or run around from him.

"Here it is: 1234-5678-9987-6543." He replied, reciting the numbers 1-9 in order and then backward. "And the three digits on the back are: 210."

Oh, he was so fucking annoying! He didn't get to troll you, even if it was pretty amusing of him to do so, then flirt with you, then go back to trolling.

"Sir, if you're not interested in the cruise, just say so. There's no need for this mockery." You replied, your tone serious and professional though you were definitely seething on the inside.

Simon could tell. And he reveled in it. "Oh, but I am interested!" He replied with a smirk behind his voice. "In fact, I want to know more. Will my cabin in the cruise have an ocean view?"

Simon heard you inhale aggressively on the other side of the line, steeling yourself not to hang up on him, or down right berating him on the phone. "Yes, Ai, of course!" He heard your fake cheeriness through your clenched teeth. "It'll be a luxury cabin, actually. Isn't that great?"

"No, it's not that great, actually. I get very seasick, you see?" Simon murmured. "Not to mention, ever since my pet goldfish died, I've just never been able to look at the ocean the same..." He added in a forced pitiful tone.

You went quiet again on the other side and Simon knew he had finally worn you out. He waited to hear the clicking sound of the call falling, but, instead, he just heard you let out a sigh.

"You're very frustrating." You murmured.

"Oh, my, is this how you speak to all your prize winners?" Simon gasped dramatically.

"Shut up... You didn't have to be a smartass, you know?!" You scolded him, as if you had any ground to stand on.

"No, I fear I did, sweet'art." Simon replied as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter. "You called me, interrupted my day, and wasted my time with a scam, of all things. I have every right to be a smartass and have some fun with it." He added, a smug tone obvious in the dulcets of his deep voice.

"Okay? You could've just hung up on me?" You were truly grasping at straws to justify your behaviour. It was comical.

Simon laughed dryly. "And waste an opportunity to annoy a parasitic leech like you?" He quipped.

That stunned you into silence for a moment and you couldn't help but pout a bit.

"Not to mention, what you're doing is illegal, you know that righ'? And I'm military, I could get you arrested for this." He added.

"For that, you'd need to know where I am." You retorted, maybe a bit bratilly. "Besides, I knew you were a soldier."

"And how did you know that?"

"You used the NATO phonetic alphabet while spelling 'your' name'." You replied directly. "Nobody spells 'Aiden' as 'Alpha-India-Delta-Echo-November'."

"So you knew I was military and you still went ahead with your little scam attempt? You're not that bright, are you?" He defied you, which earned him a scoff from your end.

"No, I already knew you were trolling me."

"Oh, so you just wanted to waste my time?"

"That's exactly it, Aiden."

"Sounds to me like you're just looking for trouble, da'lin'." He quipped, his voice having lowered to a gruffer tone.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. "Am not. I'm just enjoying myself. You're not the only one that can make jokes at people's expenses."

"No, you really are..." He tutted his tongue and shook his head. "Need I remind you you were trying to scam me, and other people?" He added in a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I know what I was doing."

"Yeah? And are you proud of that? Proud of being a conniving little cunt who tries to take people's hard-earned money?" He taunted you.

You didn't reply. Of course you weren't proud. You still had a conscience! But you wouldn't tell him that. He wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing you apologise.

"I see. You don't like what I'm saying, so you give me the silent treatment, is that it, sweet'art?" He teased. You could hear the smirk behind his words.

"I wonder if you'd still act like this if you had to face me and had to answer for yourself."

Closing your fists tight, you steel yourself again to gain some edge and reply to him. "I guess you're going to keep wondering then. Because it's not happening."

"You know, it's a shame your little computer spat out my phone number for you to call..." He trailed off.

"And why's that?"

"Because instead of anyone else, you got me... And that's just... really bad luck for you. Any other service member, you would've been fine..." He trailed off.

"What, are you some sort of General-Major-Chief thing, super high up the ladder?" You taunted.

Simon simply chuckled dryly on the other side of the line. "No. But I'm definitely the worst person you could've tried to play with."

"Oh, big scary man, what are you gonna do? Gonna come teach me a lesson?" You added, taunting him some more, clearly feeling comfortable behind your laptop, with your smartphone, sitting at home, comfortable and warm, with your pet at your feet. "Oh, I'm so scared!" You added, feigning fear in a dramatic tone.

"Is that a challenge I'm hearing, sweet'art? Inviting me to come pay you a visit?" Simon asked you, his brow cocking, despite the fact you couldn't see it.

You don't know what it was about the way he spoke. The way he said that. The way his voice sounded.

It sent a shiver down your spine, a cold sweat, like he was, for the first time, not joking around anymore.

"No...?" You murmured in reply, feeling your shoulders tensing in an unpleasant way.

"Yeah... That's an invite I'm hearing..." He disregarded what you said and chuckled. "Maybe I'll come pay you a visit then, hey? How does that sound, little leech?"

#ikea writes 💚 #tw phone scam #cod mw2 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #masterlist #ghost x reader #phone scammer #crack fic #ddne #dead dove do not eat

[just-slightly-chayotic]

everything can be a kimchay au if you have enough imagination. which is to say that the interaction i just had with one of my new neighbours is going in my wip list

#he was very sweet #now we know who to ask for sugar #however we are absolutely hanging a pride flag in front of the door asap because as far as everyone else is concerned we're a lesbian couple #(life is so much easier since we started fake dating) #(we did it to con an agency but now we just use it as an excuse everywhere and it's GREAT) #(for legal reasons the conning part is a joke) #anyways #am i interested in this neighbour in the slightest? no. but if we were different people..? it could be something #the potential for love is everywhere #kimchay #tea's ramblings

[cephalog0d]

Okay, but like. There's the whole joke about Bruce recruiting children to be his sidekicks, but honestly there's only really one that fits that.

And it's Jason. And the whole story there is, frankly, unhinged. Aaaaand then he died.

(I'm specifically talking about "first post-crisis origin stories" here because Jason and Dick, in particular, have both had multiple major retcons and revisions over the years, and some of them dramatically change how things happened.)

Like okay. Going backwards, you've got Duke who joined/led a whole Robin-based gang at a time when Bruce wasn't even Batman. You've got Damian and Cass, who were both literally born into the world of masks and capes and heroes and villains, so they weren't ever really not going to be part of it. Steph might have taken inspiration from previous heroes but she made her own identity and repeatedly refused to stop involving herself in the vigilante lifestyle. Tim, obviously, basically strong-armed Batman into letting him be Robin, despite Batman's protests.

Dick's a little more complicated just because there's so many versions, because that's what 80 years of comics and multiple universe reboots will do, and there's kind of a general trend that earlier pre-crisis versions were more of Batman being like "hello, child, would you like to be my sidekick" and later versions have leaned harder and harder into the idea that Dick was absolutely going to do this anyway, regardless of what Batman had to say about it. But even in the first post-crisis version, the flashback in Batman Year 3, Dick says he wants to find a way to keep people like that from hurting others again. When Alfred questions Bruce's offer to train him, Bruce says that Dick should learn to do things the right way if he's going to do it. It's not hard to extrapolate that, much like later versions of the origin story, Dick was going to get himself into this one way or another. (Batman (1940) #437)

And then there's Jason. Whose backstory has also had a lot of (sometimes major) revisions over the years (remember when his adoption was, like, some kind of Joker-originated long con? Fucken Nu52, man). But the original post-crisis version is pretty straightforward. Steals Batman's tires, gets caught and sent to Ma Gunn's Secret Criminal School, intervenes when Batman goes to investigate, immediately gets offered the chance to be Robin based entirely on that.

Which is itself kind of unhinged. That Bruce saw this kid who was living on his own stealing tires and went "Hey you would make a good Robin" as his very first instinct.

But if you've never read Jason's post-crisis origin, or it's been a while, it's honestly even more unhinged than that because that arc starts with Dick getting "fired" as Robin specifically for the reason that he got shot by Joker and Bruce freaked out about how the Robin identity has too many enemies and therefore Dick, a legal adult with approximately a decade of training and experience, should not use the identity anymore.

(And it's specifically about the Robin identity, in this version, because when Dick says he's not going to stop the crime fighting thing Bruce's response is basically "I know and I didn't expect you to". Honestly I could also say a lot about this version of the Robin/Nightwing transition vs. later ones and how this one definitely feels like the Heavy Hand of DC Editorial in the fact that they had no contact for so long afterwards, because the interaction really doesn't feel like it warrants that in this case compared to some later versions, but that's a whole other too-long ramble.) (Batman (1940) #408)

And then a few weeks later Bruce turns around and picks up a random kid, a literal child, and goes "Hey you would make a good Robin!"

And I think a lot about how fucking wild that is. And it's not like the people writing just didn't notice. Dick's big argument with Bruce when he finally comes back to Gotham and meets Jason isn't about the fact that Bruce took in another kid, or even necessarily about Dick feeling proprietary over the Robin identity, the thing he's angry about is that Bruce said it was too dangerous for him, an adult, someone who has trained with Batman for a decade and was already highly physically trained before that for his whole life, to be Robin, and now Bruce has turned around and painted that target onto some random new kid. He pushes, repeatedly, trying to get Bruce to justify himself and this absolutely irresponsible decision, and Bruce gives a lot of answers about how Jason was on a bad path and needed this outlet and eventually just admits that he missed having a partner. (Batman (1940) #416)

And like. Dick's right, is the thing. He is 1000% in the right in this argument. If he can't be Robin anymore because of the danger, how in the hell is it anything like a good idea to hand it over to someone way younger, way less trained, way less experienced, and expect that that wouldn't end in tragedy?

And then it did.

And yeah, Bruce, it is kinda a lot of your fault.

#And the punchline is Batman clearly should not get to choose his own sidekicks! Haha? #(Sorry this is a lot more serious than my usual Batfam shitposts it won't be a regular habit don't worry) #this is long and rambly but it's something i think about a lot #and it's on my mind extra because of an AU oneshot i'm working on finishing right now #and obviously there's eight kabillion versions of any given origin and reboots and retcons and they change drastically yadda yadda yadda #and also obviously there's always behind-the-scenes editorial choices and other factors when it comes to comics story events #story and character choices are frequently not just a matter of storytelling but of things like meeting editorial demand of What Must Happe #but just looking at the story as presented: the one time bruce specifically recruited someone as his sidekick that kid ended up dead for it #it does make narrative sense given this that bruce's reaction to most of the subsequent kids is initially 'go the fuck home and stop this' #and then only really yielding with the realization that they're totally going to do this shit anyway #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne

[physicalturian]

[18+] Salvaged Love - Hanma Shuji x F!Reader - Part 4

[The plot of this work follows previous works in this series] [She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] [Varied POV/chapter]

Words : 11 013

Playlist : link

Archiveofourown

Warnings : Reader-Insert // Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con // Canon-Typical Violence // Graphic Description // Graphic Description of Corpses // Dubious Ethics // Explicit Language // Blood and Injury // Necrophilia jokes // Slight mention of ED (not reader)

There was something uncanny in having two people looking for a new place, to perhaps even build a new life, while in a different part of the city something much more tragic was happening.

It was nothing remotely close to dramatic to those who were used to it, to people that had been desensitized to the show that was happening right now. To people like Mikey. He could watch the scene displayed in front of him for hours without a hint of regret, so people thought. What regrets could a man with a blank expression portray? His eyes bore intensely into every action, following each hit, each breath, each step—he was taking it all in, unflinching. Part of his brain would sometimes attempt to resurface, that part of him that was more caring, but he was fast to turn it off.  Having him vulnerable to any sort of thing would mean the end of it all.

Many would label their actions as distasteful, gruesome, illegal, and immoral. Even more would be happy should they stop. But what would happen then? Once all the wrongs of the world were not contained anymore? Once all that money that was being fed to the big cats—that was helping the economy flow as it should, that was helping desperate people get any sort of income to provide for their family because the society they were born in could not care enough to let them earn enough to live—was no more?

What would happen then? 

Then it would all come crashing down.

Earning money legally was a privilege that many seemed to bask in, along with their naivety, but so many more had to work with the risk of losing it all. Their money, their life, their freedom.

In some way, Mikey found it much more honorable.

And it all rested on his shoulders. 

Should he take the fall, everything would go amiss, with people fighting for their businesses, their territory, for power. He would not—no, he could not allow himself to be remotely vulnerable, that was why he relied on Sanzu to keep him in check for what was at stake. It seemed sad to think that the blond man needed to be reminded of what could go wrong if he dared to feel human, but it was necessary. Both men knew.

It needed to be done.

“See Ran, the guy isn’t talking. Let me beat him up, your technique ain’t it.” Rindou spoke a few steps away from his brother as he watched him beat a guy to the pulp with his baton, gritting his teeth and hissing insults, questions, everything. 

A sigh was heard next to Mikey. A man that had no need to be there stood by the leader’s side, arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head, “Why did you not call Sanzu or The Reaper in? The Haitanis are not extortionists at all. They have close to no patience–”

“I trust them.” Mikey stated, implying much more with these words. He then gave Koko a glance from the side, “And Sanzu was sent on another errand.” It was enough to be clear for the long-haired man that nodded, returning his attention to the fight in front of them. All that they currently needed was one crumb of information to go further in their research on Shibata. Bonten was not one for infighting, it was a dishonor to betray the organization and lay a hand on any other member, other than a stupid drunken fight. But some made exceptions, some were allowed to ignore the rules if it meant helping the greater cause.

It was the only reason why one of Bonten’s lower-ranked members was on the floor, facial features unrecognizable from the different layers of dried blood covering his skin. The situation was something everyone in the warehouse meant to keep a secret; it was something that shouldn’t have happened, and yet did.

“Who gave you the fucking order? It’s not that fucking hard, speak up and you go free.”

“No one! I did it on my own!” And another punch, perhaps too strong this time as his head hit the ground all too forcefully, the sound dull enough to quiet everyone in the room as Ran let go of the man’s collar and stood up. He grabbed a rag Rindou handed him and dried his hands the best he could before walking up to Mikey, uncaring of the dirt and dampness on his clothes from kneeling over the man. With a deadpan expression, he met Mikey’s eyes, “He’s not talking.”

Mikey hummed, taking his phone out as he sent a quick message to Sanzu, informing him of the situation before tucking it in his pocket and meeting Ran’s eyes, “Orders are not thought, they’re given.” Mikey started, only to have Koko speak up impatiently, “This man met up with someone external to the organization, in the dead of the night, with exec-level information at his disposal that he somehow got all on his own?” He scoffed in disbelief, clicking his tongue against his teeth while huffing another laugh.

“Yeah, so if one of our guys is connected to Shibata, what’s telling us there aren’t more of them?” Rindou asked, his face full of disbelief with his brows furrowed. The man would often be perceived as the happier, more jovial brother—or at least the one people would get along with more—but those who believed it were absolute fools. He would end up being the life of the party, however he did enjoy his ‘job’, if one could call it such. He cared about two things, Bonten and his brother, meaning that if one of those was at risk he’d pour all his energy into fixing the issue. He was not one to ask for intricate details, but if someone assigned him something to do, precisely informing him of the outcome, he would do it happily. Sometimes too happily—part of him itched to fight. After all, that was what he had known most of his life, and he also believed it was a good way to get his frustration out from time to time.

He didn’t care about losing or winning, as long as what he cared for was safe.

Mikey hopped off his spot and walked to the bashed body on the ground, the man whimpering and sniffling—Mikey took his gun out and pointed it at him. “Corruption in a corrupting organization, it was only a matter of time before the dog caught its tail…” Mikey whispered before grabbing the man’s collar and lifting him off the ground while pressing the gun under his chin, “I’m nice enough to euthanize a rotten dog when I see one, tell me who gave you the order.” If death had a face, it’d be this one. The one of a man claiming mercy at a moment of weakness, the apathy in his eyes contrasting with the softness of his features as he nudged the gun further into the skin.

To the three men standing back, nothing could be heard. They watched as Mikey lifted the man, cocked the gun, and approached his head. Koko had been with Mikey for a bit longer than the Haitanis, he had seen him get his hands dirty. Even if the sight was rare to behold, he didn’t care much—however, the brothers watched like hawks, leaning in to hear anything that was being exchanged until the gunshot was heard and the body dropped dead with a hard sound from Mikey pushing it before letting go of the collar.

They both watched Mikey wipe his bloody face with the back of his hand, only spreading it more over his cheek before tossing the gun to Koko who caught it without missing a beat, “Ran, Rindou, some loyalty must be tested.”

Rindou interrupted in panic, but to others, it was simply impoliteness, “Hey Mikey, my brother and I ain’t betraying anyone, alright? So whatever that guy said, whatever test you got for us–”

With a simple look, Mikey had Rindou closing his mouth, giving him time to speak, “Sanzu will be providing you with a list of people, our people, that need their…” He smiled, a short smile, a frightening smile to encounter, “Allegiance reviewed.”

Ran scoffed, his eyes glancing at Koko who was already walking out of the warehouse. It was evident that things had been dealt with and he had places to be—Ran’s focus returned to the smaller man in the room, “Ah yeah, beating up some weak-asses to make sure they stick with us instead of whoever that traitor is. Count us in, Mikey.” He was about to pull Rindou with him on his way out, but paused and called out Mikey’s name who was walking away. The white-haired man turned around without much surprise upon being called and set his gaze on the brothers.

“You’re not gonna tell us who he snitched on, are you?” Ran asked, confident about his statement.

Mikey shook his head, “No. Someone else is in charge of that.”

The brothers both laughed and started walking, holding back from nudging their boss in some sort of pettiness upon not being the ones to deal with the traitor, “And you want your people to trust you blindly? When you don’t trust your own execs? Maybe if you–”

Rindou pushed Ran away from Mikey, telling him it wasn’t worth it—Mikey only tilted his head forward, shaking it ever so slightly, “You’re smart Ran, you should know your impulsivity is of better use elsewhere.” A short sigh escaped Mikey’s lips as he looked up and met Ran’s eyes with nothingness, no tell of a joke even as those words poured out, “A smart fighter is key to taking care of this traitor, not a reactive one.”

The purple-haired man looked over his shoulder at his brother, asking under his breath if he had just been called dumb, but Mikey did not let them speak. He only walked out, but not without reminding them, “You’ll receive a text soon. If you delegate that to your divisions make sure you trust them, you never know what’s amongst your ranks.” Soon enough, the sound of the door slamming echoed in the warehouse, leaving the two brothers inside.

Both looked at each other before looking at the body on the floor, far away from them.

Almost at the same time, they spoke, “Not it.” and started debating on who was faster, arguing about the upcoming plans for today only for Rindou to give the final defense, “It’s your mess, I ain’t your mom, take care of it yourself!” He raised his hands, smirking at his brother, proud of finding a valid argument that had Ran clenching his teeth in annoyance. He pulled out his phone and shooed the longer-haired man away as he called one of the members of his division, “Yeah, write down the address. I’ll stay ‘til you arrive so you better get here fast, I got shit to do.”

As he proceeded to spell out the address, Rindou patted his shoulder mockingly and told him he’d see him later before leaving Ran alone in the warehouse.

A while later, neither of them had yet received the information from Sanzu regarding the manhunt task Mikey had assigned to them, but the pink-haired man had been busy since the early hours of the morning on his errand. Amidst dealing with the businesses he was responsible for, he had been taking care of Shiho who had woken up ill after the night with her. He’d stayed at home in the meantime, making sure she would make it through the day. His sleep had been restless, partly due to the couch not having the same level of comfort as his own bed, and largely due to having to endure a night of Hanma’s girl screaming through nightmares. He wondered if the poor sleep right next to that woman must have led to Shiho’s overnight health decline as well. 

For now, not one of his men knew the reason for him not being on site to make himself heard, but they didn’t need to see him to fear him. They even less needed to know his girl was asleep on his lap while he told off idiots for how much they could fuck up simple orders.

His voice must have risen too much since Shiho stirred in her sleep and turned around to look at him. Before she could speak, he shushed her with a small smile, pointing at the phone. She nodded and wrapped her arms around him, listening to the voice she had grown to find so soothing.

“You find him, it’s not that hard. You find him, get the info out of him and make sure he doesn’t talk.” He stated, listening to the reply he was getting, reacting with a dry scoff, “Twelve hours, you don’t want me to visit your boyfriend, do you?” Hearing him coerce people made her feel funny. She felt some sort of pride to be on his good side, to have the honor to see him soft when he was feared and known to be one of the worst men of Bonten. 

As he hung up, he tossed the phone aside and kissed Shiho passionately, “Thought you’d died for a sec there. You just passed out after they left.” He uttered against her lips before kissing her once more, both smiling and slightly dazed. The woman hummed and threaded her fingers through his hair, “I don’t go down that easily, come on!” She chuckled, holding onto his shoulder for balance as she sat next to him, her legs now resting over his comfortably, “I was just tired, I guess tidying up a body late at night isn’t made for me.” She chuckled, adding that her friend had had nightmares during the night, which added to her restlessness.

Sanzu hummed, making Shiho grab his face towards her, “When you guys talked… did you tell Hanma to do something about her being sent on fucked up errands? I hate seeing her like that, I don’t think he realizes–”

“I did talk to him, yeah. He’s insane and says she’s fine. Can’t do much about it at this point.” He pondered, helping her legs off him as he stood up, “Don’t wanna get too involved in their shit either, I have a weird feeling about those two.” He couldn’t tell her all that he knew, he couldn’t be as honest as he wanted to be, but he could be vague and be grateful that the woman by his side trusted him enough.

Shiho took his hand and brought it to her face as he hovered over her, “Your strangely specific gut feelings?” She asked supportively. He had something he couldn’t share, she felt it, but she played along. Time would help him come out of his shell, she had seen it, she was convinced of that. All she could do until then was support him and be as open and true as she could to make him understand he could be like that with her as well.

He laughed, “Yeah, those. So be careful baby, okay?”

“I’m not the one hanging around that tall, assless asshole—you are, so you be careful!” She chuckled, wrapping her arms around him before moving her hips from left to right enthusiastically, rhythmically, happily. Sanzu wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her, “Wanna eat something, I gotta go in a few hours so I got some time before meeting Mikey.” The man was already on his way to the kitchen, halfway through putting an apron on when Shiho stopped him, a serious expression in her eyes, “I’m not—I’m not that hungry right now.” The woman tried hard to make her voice light, unbothered, but it had close to no effect on Sanzu.

He stopped dead in his tracks, looking at her intently, remembering all too well what was happening and that he couldn’t stop it. It was all that fucker’s fault if everything was going to hell right now; Mikey told him everything would be fixed this time if they followed his plan and he had to fuck it all up. 

Sanzu loved deeply. It was hard to contain, it was hard not to metaphorically beat common sense into his loved ones, to have them around longer. It was even harder to lose people, over and over again. He hated that. Grief felt physically painful to him—he had gone through so many iterations of it, caused by his own hand or by happenstance. Enough times to consider it a normal occurrence in his life, something he had to wake up and go to sleep with. It was supposed to be fixed, it was supposed to stop. He should not have to go through it for the umpteenth time this time. So why was he starting to feel it again? Why was his chest heavy, his heart yearning for the lover still by his side to wake up? Why was he screaming to himself in his own head to do something, he had to do something, he should do something, he is a fixer, he is reliable. 

What was he worth if she never could truly rely on him?

His heart weighed so much even as she stood in front of him.

He felt useless yet again.

It was like trying to bring a concrete block to the surface of the water.

He was helpless.

“I’ll make your favorite, don’t tell me I bought all those strawberries for nothing?” He asked with a huge grin. Her eyes lit up and so did his heart as she pushed past him, tugging him along to get to the fridge, “I’m a little peckish at best. Who knows, some of these might get up my appetite.” She said, already bringing one of the fruits to her mouth. As she did, she held back from retching, afraid of worrying him. A grin filled with red juice spread on her lips, “Just what I needed,” She grabbed some eggs from the fridge and handed them to Sanzu, “We gotta make tons of it, I wanna give them to–”

“Hanma’s girl, yeah, I get it.” Sanzu sighed, taking the eggs and a bowl as Shiho brought him the rest of the ingredients, fighting her gag reflex as she swallowed. 

“Have you considered that I don't wanna hear about her when I’m at home chilling?” The man muttered. He knew he shouldn’t have said that, but it had slipped out. Whatever justification had to come about his distaste for the woman could not be spoken out loud, not to Shiho. And yet, she joined his side with an apron on and looked down at the counter, “She’s my friend, Haru. I want to tell you about things that we did and that she does.”

He did not wait for her to finish to interject, “And all she does is fuck shit up!” He spat, immediately whispering a ‘sorry’ under his breath as he stopped mixing the batter and looked over at Shiho with a serious expression, “I just—I don’t care about her.” He set the mixer against the bowl and reached out for Shiho’s face, his hands cradling her cheeks gently as he bumped his forehead against her, “I care about you, but she brings bad shit around.”

“We’re all in the same boat, how is she any different?” The woman did not hold onto Sanzu’s hands as she would usually do, she wanted an explanation at this very instant. He brushed her hair back, his hold on her tightening, pressing her cheeks as he kissed her forehead while a strained smile slowly grew on his face, “It doesn’t matter, it… ah, it doesn’t fucking matter because it’s–” it’s already decided. What's done is done. He’s not allowed to change anything. No matter what he so desperately wished to do right now, he would not sacrifice Mikey’s happiness and peace of mind for his own. 

Loyal to a fault.

Kind to a fault.

Selfless to a fault.

That’s what he was, that’s why he hated her. That stupid woman that got Hanma’s attention, who went and had that stupid butterfly effect on their carefully, painfully-crafted plan for the best possible outcome. She had to fuck it all up. She had to mess up his one shot at a semblance of normalcy, and he hated her for that. He couldn’t bear the sight of that woman, that wreckage of a woman that, after ruining everything for so many people, was also losing herself in the process.

He smiled.

“I don’t mind hearing about you and her, I love hearing how your day went, yeah? Just… I don’t care about Hanma and his girl.” Sanzu whispered, letting go of Shiho’s cheeks before kissing her softly, “Unless it’s important, I can do without knowing shit ‘bout their private life.”

Shiho nodded and deepened the kiss, placing her hands on his hips as she pressed him against her, “I guess there are people you just can’t stand, it’s alright. I’m just sad it’s her.” She mumbled, her hands sliding to his back as she hugged him tight, tears threatening to fall. There was something deeper to what Sanzu was saying, but he was not telling her. No matter how much she reminded herself that he would eventually come around and open up about this matter too, as he had done about so many others in the past, it was still hard to be this patient. But she would do it for him. She considered telling Sanzu to stop mentioning Mikey as a rebuttal, but she knew if Sanzu had to choose between the white-haired man and herself, she would be no match.

Then, she immediately thought that as long as she was by his side, she would be happy. He would never have to choose between Mikey and her, because no matter the choice he would make, she would stand by him. That was how inexplicably closely-bound she felt to him.

“I suppose she is reckless, it is something you don’t like much.” Shiho added as she brushed the stray tear away and huffed a laugh, “But hey!” She laughed a bit more, “We’re all still around for now, so it’s not that reckless, right?” As she grabbed the mixer and the bowl, she leaned in playfully, “Plus, remember when I told you about that one time I got into a car with a guy from the bar so he could show me around his weed farm? I’m also a bit of a reckless person, you know?” She commented.

Sanzu let out a hard laugh, short but effective, “You do have a tendency to follow druggies home, huh?” He leaned over the counter, elbows placed on it while his head rested in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t plan on doing that anymore, I think I found the right guy. Don’t know about you, but my man’s pretty cute.” She started, turning the mixer on as she mouthed to him over the sound: “Good in bed too!”

Sanzu couldn’t help but look at her with adoration.

Even if they were part of the biggest criminal organization in Japan—both labeled as criminals, both now outcasts of the society they so passionately helped grow from the shadows somehow, both pariahs for having committed crimes so unfathomable to the eyes of normal people—they were still, at the very core of their soul, human beings, human fools, that had found some serenity in all these horrors by finding each other.

By making each other smile.

A solace, some would call it. Solace in the midst of this incessant and unwavering brutality they could never run away from.

There was something uncanny about how human nature was prone to seek such peace while sowing havoc. And that almost contradiction of character would show more in some than others. 

Sanzu was selfless, but Hanma was selfish.

Even as he stood behind his girl’s chair while she talked with Mocchi about their new place, he was thinking of what he would do next to protect her. To keep her by his side. Shibata could not plant seeds of doubt in their ranks because those seeds grew so easily when being watered by fear and paranoia. He had to rely on the Haitanis to weed out those sprouts but hated doing so since it meant her safety depended on how good they would be at keeping those doubtful thoughts at bay. It depended on how good they would be at his fucking job—intimidation, taking care of renegades, that was his shit.

Being put on mole-hunting duty felt degrading to him. He wouldn’t speak it out loud, but he didn’t give a shit about the fucker that had betrayed them. No matter who they were, he wouldn’t do as Mikey said, he wouldn’t bring them to him. They had put her at risk, and after what happened, he didn’t care about Mikey’s plans for the future. He never did, but even less now, with his girl’s life at stake.

“Yeah, sure, you want something you like, but how many rooms? Where do you want–” Mocchi was starting to get annoyed at how vaguely Hanma’s girl was explaining what she wanted. Hanma reached for the file on Mocchi’s desk and handed it to the woman sitting down, “Give her a catalog of whatever’s available, she doesn't have any expectations—see, that’s all she needed.” He brought their attention to her as she happily looked through it.

From his spot, he saw a figure outside that immediately disappeared, which alerted him. That’s all he needed to have his interest piqued as he patted his girl’s shoulder and addressed everyone, “Be back in a bit, gotta deal with something.” He looked at Kakucho who stood in the corner on a seat, busying himself but aware enough to look up from his phone and meet Hanma’s eyes. The latter did not need to say that he should keep her safe, they knew that while Hanma was responsible for her, all were aware of the target that seemed to be on her head.

Grabbing his coat by the door, the man left the building with a determined stride as he took in every detail of his surroundings. Sometimes he wondered why sellouts were so bad at spying, there was nothing discreet about wearing all-black and a cap—it seemed to be their go-to attire. He thought movies had used the concept enough times to make people use their common sense and not wear that, but clearly common sense was not as common as the name led to believe.

After the countless times he was sent on errands, years after years, he had learned the layout of the town. He knew each nook, each turn, each shady street and dead-end; and having followed people around for even longer, he could guess where they would run out of their first instinct. His walk was inconspicuous, the only thing that made people look at him was his height, and perhaps at times his tattoos, but considering his hands were currently shoved in his pocket, there wasn’t much for people to gawk at. His long legs meant he was fast, faster than the fucker that he could now see from afar as he looked over his shoulder, noticing him.

A satisfied smile made its way onto his lips as he grabbed his phone and quickly texted Kakucho; not that he had saved his number under any name—he simply recognized the recent text conversation.

It read, ‘found a shitbata rat, take her home when she picked what she wants’

He didn’t care for an answer, none of them would let her go home alone—out of politeness or chivalry, whichever it was he could count on it to drive them to take responsibility for his girl while he was gone.

The smile on his face couldn’t falter as excitement filled his being; this one wasn’t dead like the previous one, he was going to have a blast. Quickly, he took a turn before the idiot did and made sure to take a dark street that was not frequented, one that, while having two entries, led to a dead-end. With faster steps, Hanma stopped right where the light shone like a spotlight from the main street and hid behind the wall, waiting patiently for the man to walk in.

It took all but one minute for the rabid beast to fall into his trap, phone in hand as he panically spoke, “The gigantic one!” he waited, “I don’t know! Fuck, fuck, I messed up, he’s onto me, I–” Another pause while the person on the other end spoke. It was embarrassing to break down at such a small thing. Hanma had no idea if this guy was another fucker that turned his back on Bonten or if it was a born-and-bred Shibata, but he was weak for sure. The worse was perhaps how inattentive the man was to not have noticed Hanma waiting by to see what else was going to be said.

“Yeah, I think I lost him for now…” He nodded, humming in understanding which Hanma found a bit funny since the other fucker on the phone couldn’t see him. His eyes did not leave the man as he paced, kicking at some trash on the ground. It was only a matter of seconds before his feet led to Hanma. The latter pondered in a split second if he should retreat a bit and wait for more information, but instead he stood his ground until the spy’s eyes set on Hanma’s shoes, slowly following the source and meeting his playful gaze.

Hanma brought a finger to his lips in a shushing motion, but he could see the man was going to scream anyway. He quickly covered his mouth and pressed the idiot’s back against his chest as he held him there, using his free hand to grab the phone himself. 

Bringing it to his ear, he waited for a voice on the other end but it seemed that person was also waiting—Hanma spoke first, “Well, isn’t this awkward… tell you what! Tell me a story and keep me entertained for 2 minutes and I won’t kill your guy.”

The call ended.

Hanma shoved the phone in his pocket; he would decide its fate later on, right now he had to deal with this softie. “Clearly whoever that was didn’t think you mattered enough—are you for real crying, kid?” The one in control rolled his eyes and pressed his hand further on the man’s mouth, “Scream and people come in, come in and they’ll find a dead body.” He felt the fool’s body tense under him and patted his cheek mockingly, “So!” He pushed him off, making him fall to his knees, “Wanna play Guess Who?”

The man on the floor started stuttering, struggling so much it was painful to watch when knowing he was supposedly part of an organization that was giving Bonten so much trouble. Hanma leaned on the wall, waiting for the words to finally leave the man’s mouth without a struggle—with how long it was taking, Hanma took the initiative and said, “I take it as a yes, you don’t got much choice anyway.” He shrugged.

“Alright, is it a man?”

The man on the floor looked at Hanma intently to make it seem like he’d been staring from the very beginning, to stop his eyes from fleeting—or to make him believe they never did so in the first place. Hanma smiled, already satisfied.

“Feels like it could be an exec,” Hanma started, pondering out loud rather than asking the wriggling fool on the floor. He then turned his face rapidly and looked at him, “But then again! None of ‘em would have been stupid enough to get caught.” He stepped closer to the mouse caught in a trap and grabbed his ankle, dragging him out of the daylight in case he ever considered leaving, should his mind felt this spur of temerity.

It wasn’t hard for the tallest man to ignore the pleas of despair from the worm he held, who wouldn’t beg death to let them go just this one time? Once he dropped his foot, Hanma sighed, “We’ll go step by step then, is it first division?”

The man’s eyes widened, he shook his head, “No no, it’s the fourth division, it’s–”

“You didn’t tell me shit up until now, why would I trust you?” He clicked his tongue and kicked the man in the chest, making him hit the floor with a rough thud, “First division, huh. Who would have thought…” He pointed his thumb towards his chest, “I would have thought, that fucker’s been sus as hell for months now.”

“I—I don’t know who you’re talking about!”

Hanma’s hand gripped the weaker man’s jaw with enough force to hear a slight crack, effortlessly shutting him up, “Shhh. I wasn’t fucking done.” The nod in his hand made him understand he could continue, he then pushed his head away, this time making it hit the hard floor. The man was now knocked out, he probably had a concussion too, and Hanma was too lost in his own thoughts, planning on how to deal with the matter.

Giving the passed out body a disgusted glance, Hanma brought a cigarette to his lips, lighting it casually, “Ya can never trust anyone, look away for just seconds and you’re missing so much—so make ‘em captain of a division and ah!” He puffed the smoke, pointing at the guy on the floor, “They make people die for them!” He shook his head in disbelief, taking a long drag and keeping the smoke in as he added, smiling all too knowingly, “Not like it’s a surprise, but you know, I always thought the man was too nice for his own good—if we ignore that one time…”

The smoke rose into the air as Hanma puffed once more before dropping the cigarette on the man’s shirt and stepping on it to crush it, getting no reaction from the sellout that laid on the ground, “Man always had one foot in—the other was with the cops, but it looks like the bad guys are much more efficient than whatever pig was on his side.” 

For a moment, Hanma had to consider his next move. He could let him go, let him run back to his little master—after all, it wouldn’t change shit since he’d had someone on the phone listening when he was captured. Fucker knew Bonten was on his trail, but did he also know they knew exactly who he was? Pulling the weasel’s phone out, Hanma scoffed at the burner phone but looked through the contacts only to find one number saved with no name. There was no need to call it back, it was probably from another burner phone. Any tracks he might have to find that bastard would be pointless right now. 

Smashing it on the ground, he hit it hard with his heel and knelt by the man, holding the side of his face for a moment, “We can’t have you tattle tale now, can we?”

Crack.

“Now this is going to be a fucking pain to deal with.” He sighed, rolling up his sleeves as he grabbed a full trash bag from a nearby bin and emptied its contents on the floor, then a second one. It was not an easy play to shove a grown body in a bag not made for that capacity, but Hanma found a certain talent in himself for doing so. He added another bag around it and started shoving some trash back inside so that for the average eye, it would still look like simple garbage thrown away. It took a bit of time cracking bones and bending a human body unnaturally, but once he was done, he took hold of some additional bags before breathing out and lifting them from the ground—the struggle laid in not losing balance with the weight of a dead body on one side and household trash on the other.

He also needed to look as natural as possible so that no one would not look twice his way, believing he’s just taking out some trash. Luck was on his side considering he did not have to follow the man too far from where he’d parked; all Hanma had to do was walk about five minutes before reaching his car and dropping the body in the trunk. As he did so, avoiding bumping into people on his way there, he made a mental note to search the body for any ID or car keys. He couldn’t just leave the man’s car parked down the road for too long or people would get suspicious, which ultimately would lead to them realizing this man was gone.

With a deep sigh, Hanma shut the trunk closed and shoved his keys in his pockets before getting back inside—it had taken a lot less time than he’d planned, but he hoped his girl would have chosen a place by now. As he was about to enter, he heard them talking loudly, with Kakucho saying, “It doesn’t matter, he’ll be back in a few, just stay here and–” A slam on the door surprised Hanma but he did not intervene, he had guessed it was Kakucho blocking the way so he chuckled to himself and waited.

“I just need to pee, it’s not that deep. Let me out, don’t tell me you don’t have toilets.” She was interrupted by Kakucho laughing loudly as he locked the door and probably took the key from it, by the sound Hanma heard.

“To be honest, I have no fucking clue what’s going on in your head, so I’d rather keep you here until he comes back than have you running around playing gangster and fucking shit up.” Kakucho explained as a matter of fact before adding, “You know?”

Even though Hanma didn’t like most of them all that much, Kakucho was one of the pretty bearable ones, and he even managed to make him laugh as he heard his girl huff.

“He does whatever he wants, Kakucho. He’ll come back whenever, I’m not about to follow him and mess shit up, okay? So get out of the way, please.” She tried to push him, to get him to budge, but he did not—instead, he stood his ground and gripped her hand with force, clicking his tongue with a shake of his head. “Okay? Then piss yourself?”

For some reason, Hanma felt a tinge of annoyance when he heard her burst out in laughter.

Shaking her head, she stopped insisting on leaving and rolled her eyes with a smile before slumping on the couch, “Don’t push your kinks on people like that Kakucho, it’s a bit…” she made a face, followed by another laugh as she crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

“I don’t have a piss kink, I just have other shit to do than having Hanma up my ass cause I let his dog roam free.” He rolled his eyes and left the door to lean on the desk where Mocchi was preparing the red tape for the house she had chosen. Both Kakucho and the woman stared at one another in silence, both with a straight face until Kakucho started smiling in disbelief, “Your ass grew bold, you wouldn’t have dared to look at any of us like that before.”

She raised a brow, “Like what? I’m just staring, waiting for permission to go pee. I want my sticker for good behavior.” She said with a dry smile as she rested her elbows on her knees, debating whether she should text Hanma out of boredom or keep staring at Kakucho. The latter was much more interesting as he looked away and huffed, “You’re fucking weird.”

Before she could add something, Hanma knocked on the door and jokingly said from the other side, “One of us took this more seriously than necessary. Unlock the door, Kaku, it’s super sus that you locked that shit.”

Seconds later the key was in the lock, twisting audibly as the door opened and Hanma stepped in—he made sure to look down at Kakucho with a weirded out expression, “This ain’t free use, you better not have touched her.” He whispered, making the scarred man return the half-weirded, half-surprised expression, maybe with a sprinkle of disgust, “You’re welcome.”

He turned around and went back to his seat to let Mocchi take care of them. The woman on the couch stayed there as Hanma walked up to her, his hands reaching for her face as he tilted her head back, “Did you give him a hard time?”

Her smile was tender as she met his eyes, her words barely a whisper, “I wouldn’t dare, I told you I’d behave, right?” His eyes seemed to soften for a moment after hearing her words, then he smirked and hummed, thinking he couldn’t keep her locked up for too long. Keeping her in a cage, it would only have her go feral the few times she’d be out of it—so he grinned mischievously, “Ya can give him a hard time you know, man can’t just have an easy life.” Then he pecked her lips and went to check the papers Mocchi was preparing, taking a look at the place she had chosen. Looking through those that were already signed and completed, he read through everything rapidly, more out of boredom than anything, then he put them back on the desk and asked Mocchi, “We can move in today, yeah?”

Mocchi sighed in frustration, “Well, yes, but she took the one with the most paperwork and I don’t know if it’ll be processed fast enough.”

“Whatever needs to be done, do it. Where do I get the key? Just give me the address and we’re out.” As Mocchi looked through his drawers for the key of this specific house, the woman stood up and looked over Hanma’s shoulders, her hands on them to help her balance on her toes, “Thank you Mocchi, sorry for the rush.”

Mocchi mumbled something inaudible, rummaging through the drawer before handing Hanma the keys and still with annoyance, met the woman’s gaze, “Don’t get followed home this time.”

Her eyes filled with disbelief and anger as her hands gripped Hanma tighter just before letting go, “Excuse me? Now I’m to blame for an entire gang trying to take over Bonten?” She spoke too rapidly to be considered reasonable or sensible, it took a short time for Hanma to debate whether he should intervene or not.

He decided to step back and watch.

“Be fucking real with me, Mocchi,” She started, forcing his chair to turn around, “Speak up! Tell me what you think!” She then crossed her arms over her chest and smiled, a tight smile that displayed her seething anger. It made Hanma happy to see her something other than distraught for a moment. “Since everyone seems to be so opinionated on the matter, I am more than interested in hearing what important take you have on something you haven’t dabbled one fucking second in.” Her heart was beating fast as she remembered the encounter she’d had, having constant reminders of being followed over and over again, only to be called insane and paranoid. She was convinced others had gone through worse, but not him. Not the man seated in front of her, and yet he dared speak from a place of comfort about her misfortune? Oh, the privilege that a man basks in by being confident in whatever shit spewed from his mouth.

He scoffed but did not dare stand up, “I’m saying a good studio got ruined just cause you were dumb enough to get followed!” It did not have the effect intended. It did not rally the two others by his side, he did not receive any answer from the woman who now seemed to be dissociating right in front of him, her eyes wide open as if she had seen the most atrocious thing in the world and yet full of emptiness. Mocchi cleared his throat; a few moments after, the woman’s gaze finally met his own, and she smiled before lurching at him.

It took but a second for Hanma to pull her back, his arm wrapped around her waist as he only tugged enough to have her tumble slightly. Her face turned to him in anger at first, pissed off that he had interrupted her, then realization hit and her eyes widened, fear flooding them. Hanma barely met her gaze as he pushed her behind him and snatched the key from Mocchi’s hands, “That one’s deserved, nobody’s sorry ‘bout your face.” Hanma commented off-handedly.

Kakucho seemed to agree, “Bit of a low blow Mocchi, tell your wife she’s to blame for getting mugged while you’re at it!” That struck a chord with the larger man as he looked at Kakucho with mouth agape, now stuttering and struggling to find words to defend himself. His cheeks were starting to tint a darker shade from embarrassment, but no one truly paid attention. The woman responsible for the pain he now felt in his face straightened her back and composed herself. She had promised herself to never lose it in front of Hanma ever again, this was her last slip up. “I could tell you I’m sorry, but you deserved to have some sense beat into you.” She spat, turning around and making her way out of the office.

Right before stepping out, she looked over her shoulder, “Thank you both for your help!” she said almost sweetly. Kakucho let out a chuckle at her tone, aware of the fuming Mocchi next to him. The former man did not mind the woman that much, he had seen her descent into the person she was now, he knew there wasn’t much helping her state without getting on Hanma’s bad side. And seeing how enthralled she was with him, he couldn’t bring her back to reality; whatever happened next, no one but Hanma was to blame, Kakucho knew that.

“If you need help moving stuff in, I think the business provides that service.” Kakucho started, only to get shoved aside by Mocchi who stood up from his chair and stomped towards the door, still annoyed as he lifted his chin, “Don’t mention my wife again, get it?” He gritted through his teeth, it made the woman laugh to see him trying to be intimidating while being in the wrong.

Giving him a condescending smile, she leaned forward, “Would you like an apology?”

“Yes.”

She cut him off proudly, filled with arrogance and bitterness, “Because you won’t get one. Respect’s mutual, I don’t owe you shit if you treat me like shit, get it?” If one had paid attention, one would have heard the small hum of satisfaction that had built up in Hanma’s throat—but all that one could see was the small rictus on his lips as he held back from praising her. Even with the slip-up that happened moments ago, her effort of remaining calm was commendable, and he would make sure to tell her so in his own way once they were alone.

Without giving them a proper answer, Mocchi shoved them out and slammed the door behind the pair of outcasts.

As they stood outside, a short silence settled only for it to be broken by Hanma, “I’d have punched him too, his ugly ass stepped outta line.” he said. As if she had been holding her breath, the woman sighed in relief and gave him a smile, “I’ll keep myself in check still, but there might be a reason why his wife’s leaving him,” She started, walking ahead of Hanma, turning around slightly as she added, “You know, with him being a dick and whatnot. Pretty sure he’s the type of guy that would tell his wife to go get changed cause she’d dressed too hot for him.” It made Hanma chuckle.

The tall man changed topic radically as he tossed her the key, “You better have picked something easy to take care of cause the bigger the place, the bigger are the odds you’ll end up doing that shit on your own. I don’t got time for chores and tidying up around.” He explained, walking past her this time as he opened the door and let her catch up to him. She slammed her hand on the door as it started closing once Hanma let go. Huffing and puffing, the woman joined him in the car that was parked not too far.

There was this strange feeling in her guts once she was inside, as if they weren’t alone. Aside from her constant company, she felt strange—so she faced Hanma while buckling her seatbelt, “Something’s off.” Now on high alert, she was looking around, fighting hard not to panic.

Hanma shrugged and started the car, “Could be the dead body in the trunk. Could be a Shibata spying your every move. Could be anything, really.” There was a time when the woman would have been repulsed by the words uttered by the man, she would have gasped and panicked even, but now? Now she looked at him with wide eyes, debating with her inner thoughts whether she should praise whatever he had done, or play the card of shock. She couldn’t stress over such silly things anymore, he knew what he was doing, she had to trust that. 

So she smiled in disbelief, “Body?” The woman inquired, her eyes darting to the back of the car, not that anything could be seen in the trunk from their seat. Humming, Hanma tapped his fingers on the wheel as he sped up on the road, a sort of satisfied smile on his lips, “Debated for a bit if he should live or not, caught him on call with the mole, but ya know. He didn’t reply when I grabbed the phone.”

The woman scoffed slightly, “Obviously. So what’s the next step?”

“Next step’s getting some dirt on the bastard—before you ask: no, I won’t tell you who it is.” He tilted his head to the side, grinning at the woman teasingly as she rolled her eyes and focused her gaze on the road, telling him she wouldn’t go after the traitor herself. It made Hanma laugh as he gripped her thigh tightly, his nails digging into her skin enough to make her hiss in pain, “Yeah, cause it ain’t your problem, you got Shitbata duty.” He then dropped his tone, adding in a more serious voice, “Less risk of you going batshit.”

With a dramatically loud sigh, he let the back of his head hit the seat, “I’d even tell you to focus on getting a pretty ‘fit for Koko’s stupid gala, but you know.”

“Yes. You know too, I’m not staying benched like a porcelain doll.” She needed to actively participate in annihilating Shibata—they had made her feel unsafe in her own place, in the streets even by Hanma’s side, and now they had made her feel crazier than necessary with everyone thinking she was paranoid.

They tried to take down the weakest link, her. Just like Bonten was planning on doing by taking down Shibata’s leader’s girlfriend, Masami—to some extent, it made the woman seated in the car laugh, which brought Hanma’s attention back to her. “What’s funny?” He asked, one brow raised in confusion as he pulled down a street.

The woman shook her head dismissively, the action itself ticked off Hanma but he didn’t mention anything yet, he waited for her to speak. “Isn’t it funny we’re following their pattern?” She asked, amazed by the conclusion she had come to.

“Pattern?”

“Yeah, they tried to take care of me first. The crazy pariah, you know? And we’re doing the same, we’re taking down Masami to begin with.” With a soft hum, she weighed her words carefully. Just from Hanma’s face, she knew she was going down the wrong path with her words, yet she continued, now self-conscious, “Except they didn’t take in consideration that I wouldn’t go down that easily and that I’m—not to sound unhinged or anything—but, like, killing me won’t do shit to Bonten, you know?” That’s when Hanma parked in front of their new place, confusion painted all over his face as he looked at her with a hint of disbelief.

Quickly, the woman added, “What if I die, right? Maybe you’ll get a bit sad, but the rest? They won’t care for shit. Which is fair enough, they hate me.”

Whatever she added would be of no value to Hanma, he had heard enough and he needed to show her that this way of thinking was stupid to say the least. Getting out of the car, he forced her out of it too and pulled her to the door, ignoring whatever she was saying in confusion and annoyance of him not letting her go. Once he had locked the door behind them, he led her to the kitchen and helped her on the large island before wrapping her legs around his waist and forcing her to lay on the counter.

“What the fuck is going on, Shuji?” She scoffed, clearly not understanding why he was acting like that. When his hand found its way around her neck she gasped and as the pressure grew, the air in her lungs slowly depleting, her eyes started to water. It was so beautiful to see her weak under him, seeing her struggle, gasping for air with her hands around his arm. It only made her more alive.

“There we go,” He breathed out, his face close to hers while a smirk drew itself on his lips, “Your pity party was missing something—tears add something to it, doesn’t it?” Hanma’s thumb slowly tilted her face back, but his hand never let go of her neck. The gesture had long since lost the meaning of a threat and had taken the name of intimacy. 

Slowly, he slid his free hand under her shirt and felt the texture of the lingerie, making him sigh in satisfaction while raking his nails against it. She tried to gulp but with the hold on her throat, all but a strangled sound escaped her lips while her eyes bore intensely into Hanma’s—they were not screaming for help, she was not afraid, but she was confused, hoping her nails digging in his skin would somehow make him understand her thoughts. 

Reaching inside his pocket, Hanma pulled out a switchblade and used it to pop the buttons from her shirt, exposing her undergarment, “Thought we had an understanding or something, after last meeting.” Gently, he moved the knife on her stomach, the tip threatening to pierce her skin as it already did the fabric, “So tell me,” He slit the garment, angling the blade like he was peeling something as he ripped at the lower part. The sound of tearing clothing made the woman gasp audibly, at least for the little air she could get from it, “Why do you have the audacity to be self-pitying around me?” He gritted through his teeth.

She shook her head, finally managing to get his hand away from her throat—it was no grand feat considering Hanma had let go, but he loved seeing this pride on her face as she pried his hand away. “What self-pitying? It’s a fact!” She spat, making Hanma’s brows furrow in fake-sorrow, as if her words were hard to hear, but if anything they pissed him off. To assume he’d be slightly sad when she was gone, it made him laugh. And to think it wouldn’t affect Bonten? He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at how convenient this little speech of hers was at this very instance. How embarrassed she would feel to speak those words out loud if she knew what she had gotten herself into—what he had gotten them all into.

She was starting to get pissed off, this time her hand reached for the back of his head as she pulled him closer, “Why the fuck are you laughing? Tell me it would do shit to them! I don’t care if it doesn’t, it’s just–”

Eyes wide. A smile she had seen countless times, the one of a maniac, the one she had seemed to grow fond of as she kept ending up face to face with it. Hanma’s nose was against hers as he stated in a sing-song voice, “If you go down, Bonten goes down.” It made her eyes widen in shock and her grip slack, her hands found their way to his shoulders. Whatever annoyance she had moments ago had been replaced by this fast beating of her heart, this warmth filling her entire body that made her face heat up.

“You don’t realize it all relies on my silence?” He hummed melodiously, unzipping his pants before taking his shirt off and helping her arms inside it so he could lock them above her head. He smiled, “Imagine this. You died because they failed to take down a bunch of kids, yeah?” He paused and roughly took all that was in his way before wrapping her legs back around his waist, “The sole outcome is me ruining all they ever worked for. All they ever wanted would be gone by my fucking hands.” 

There was something in the matter-of-fact tone he had been so keen on using that had her all aflutter. The confidence in his words and actions as spread her lower lips and started playing with her clit had her staying silent while he continued his speech, now leaning fully over her as his hands had their own will, “Wah-fucking-wah, no one will mourn me when I’m dead.” He mocked her, grabbing her jaw with force and making her look him in the eyes, “Then try harder to make your life meaningful, yeah?” 

Her confused expression had shifted to one of submission, with glazed eyes and a lazy smile she nodded. She found some comfort in his words, it was odd; with the roughness of his touch and seemingly harsh way to put things, there was still some tenderness to it all. His love language was so different from the ones many would have encountered, but she’d grown accustomed to it, she wouldn’t trade it for the world. Yet her eyes faltered to the side for a second before looking back at him, whatever devotion her gaze carried now mixed with doubt. “It isn’t like you to give life lessons, Shu.” She whispered, unhooking his hand from her jaw to slide two fingers in her mouth as she licked them; she then pulled them out and smirked, “Why don’t you make me forget my stupid thoughts, hm?” 

If part of her enjoyed his words, that part was disappearing. She couldn’t lean into that side of herself. Rai was a reminder that looking back would only make her weak, that’s why she ignored her from the corner of her eyes. The woman knew she could rely on Hanma to make her head go empty, even for just a few fleeting moments. She was convinced that by staying by his side, she would disappear.

Was she Rai? Or was it her past self? The self that no one wanted to see, the one that was distraught, the one fighting the upper hand only to lose each and every damn time.

It didn’t matter.

“Life lessons?” He scoffed, helping her legs on his shoulders as he nodded for her to hold onto the side of the counter above her head, “I’m making sure my investment doesn’t kill herself—it’d be a shame to see such a pretty face go to waste.” He made sure to punctuate his final word by shoving himself inside her, making her grip tighten. Her back on the hard surface made the position all the more painful, but she didn’t want it to stop. “Ending up as—as a, ah—trophy wife isn’t…” Her sentence was interrupted by a guttural moan that tore from her throat, her back arching into him for more, “It’s not—what I thought I’d—end up as.” She finished, jokingly. 

Hanma’s eyes that had been focused on her body up until now slowly left to meet her eyes with mischief, “Aren’t ya talkative? Maybe I’m not hitting hard enough.” With that, he started fucking her like she wanted it, feeling him deep inside her so much it hurt. Each thrust made her groan louder and louder, her arms starting to feel numb from the dreadful angle they were in, but she wasn’t letting go. Instead, she tried to meet his thrusts halfway, only to have Hanma press her hips into he counter hard, a scream of pain resonating, “There, there, right now you’re my fuck doll, what’re you doing being proactive and shit?”

Through elation and sounds of pleasure, she started breathing heavily—it was hard to find the words, but with enough effort, she managed to utter, “Necro’s a new one—Shu, didn’t know you were—into that shit.” It earned her a genuine laugh from Hanma as the speed of his thrusts fastened, his grip on her hips harder to handle which only made her smile through the pain. “Pity party’s over clearly.” He said breathlessly, his hand ripping the shirt from her arms as he bundled it up and shoved it in her mouth. The extra fabric covered her eyes, but she never let go of the counter. She only laughed.

“Can’t have you mentionin’ necro again, that was fucking weird.” With her fully exposed like that, he felt himself get closer—and from the way her hands let go of the counter to reach for him only to be pushed away, he could have guessed she was getting close. Quickly, he pried her legs apart and turned her around, fucking her from behind as hard as he could. She was whining under him, whimpering at her hip bone pressing against the counter and at the constant ramming of his hips against her ass. The angle had her seeing white, her face now laying on the surface that had long since warmed up from her body.

Suddenly Hanma’s rapid thrusts came to a stop, his motion stuttering before he pulled out and came all over her back. His hand didn’t stop, he kept playing with her clit as he spoke through his pleasure with a laugh, “Shit, I like that idea of baptizing the room, it makes it really a lot more…”

“Like home.” The woman breathed out in daze once she had tossed the shirt out of her mouth, now weakly trying to turn around. Hanma helped her and let her wrap her legs around him once more, her arms now draped over his shoulders as she rested her forehead against his. He did not mimic her gesture, his hands remaining on the counter by her thighs. “To be honest, anything will do as long as they don’t know we’re here, you know?”

“With the price I paid for this shit I ain’t leaving if they find it again.” Hanma scoffed, his eyes darting to the window upon seeing something out there. That relief of being somewhere safe was only fleeting, for him at least—but as long as those assholes didn’t act on their spying yet, he could keep it from her. He could let her bask in this safety, because he would make it safe, no matter what.

The woman hummed and leaned back while still holding onto him, “Alright.” She paused, thinking for a moment, “But you know Shu, the other rooms are not very welcoming…” Her hands moved from his shoulders down his arms before gently wrapping around his waist, her lips pressing on his collarbone softly, “We gotta cleanse all that bad energy, don’t you think?” She said jokingly.

Hanma let his head fall back, he grunted loudly then gripped her hair, forcing her away from him before kissing her with force, “Let me smoke one, give me five minutes and I’ll fuck you against the main window.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t say that, I meant like the couch or–”

He interrupted her like she did him, “So no window?”

She remained silent and let go of him before covering herself and looking to the side, “Yes window.”

Hanma already had a cigarette between his lips when he smiled at her, he took a few steps back towards the garden and puffed out the moment he opened the window, “That’s what I thought.”

Now apart, each had their own thoughts to face.

How long could he keep it from her that they were being watched? He would enjoy fucking her in front of them, clearly they would not do shit right now or they would have shot him through that window a while ago. So what was stopping them? Hanma needed to get him to admit what he had leaked to Shibata—he needed to know everything to have a good enough reason to kill him in the name of Bonten.

Bonten, the organization that made her feel like shit. Even with him by her side she saw Rai, would nothing cut it now? Would she ever be alone? She needed to find a way to keep her away, anything as long as it would do the trick. She would rather stay away from drugs knowing how badly it could all end up, but what else could she do?

She needed to find out what Rai's pattern was, when she was alone? No, not anymore. Vulnerable? No, it wasn’t it, she needed to uncover that.

And Hanma needed to take care of Shibata before it repeated itself. He knew what to do to avoid it—he had convinced himself he knew, at the very least. 

It would all work out.

[Part 5]

#tokyorev #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma #hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji #deranged love #salvaged love #fanfiction #ao3 #writer #writings #writing #physicalturian AO3 #physicalturian

[onisiondrama]

"Onision Documentary (Blackmailed, Slandered, Framed, Cancelled, Robbed & Falsely Persecuted)" Onision, October 2, 2023

Onision was blackmailed, slandered, framed, canceled, robbed & falsely persecuted... and now it appears the same people who wrongfully hurt Onision, are committing perjury & fraud to simultaneously con Google/YouTube out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. Sarah & Regina's victims have real, measurable/verifiable/proven wrongful damages as proven in this video. "Money is the root of all evil." For legal reasons all content within this video and associated with the publisher of this video is to be considered a perspective &/or alleged. Decide for yourself what to think based on the facts/evidence.

"Onision DESTROYS Documentary Fraud: "Onision In Real Life" by Discovery + (confessions & receipts)" Onision, November 6, 2023

Onision was framed and socially executed - they got away with destroying an innocent man's life... but unfortunately for them, crimes tend to have trails, and they left a big, painfully obvious one. #fyp #onision #discoveryplus #chrishansen #scam #fraud #liar #lawsuit #conman #max #hbo #netflix #hulu #movie #documentary #appleplus #amazonprime #wtf #fubar The Onision: In Real Life documentary was originally launched, in big part, by Chris Hansen. He had been recovering from getting fired over cheating on his wife, the mugshot thing involving a bounced check, the whole scamming his fans thing, the whole being associated with a dude's suicide that lead to losing a wrongful death lawsuit... you know... tons of dirtbag crap --- so the guy neeeded a refresh on his career. What did he do? He molded three women to create a narrative that could help him generate profit - destroying innocent peoples lives? Exploiting/abusing/defrauding #MeToo? No problem for Chris Hansen considering his past - If you can sleep with another wom... TWO other women behind your family's back - of course you don't mind screwing over total strangers. So! Introduce Shiloh, dumped by Onision, and Sarah, a woman who forced Onision into a relationship with her via self-admitted sexual extortion who... that's right, Onision also rejected. Oh yeah, and Regina... a literal stranger to Onision who I guess just wanted to promote her sex worker sites. Not even joking. What happens when Chris Hansen goes after you? Everyone immediately calls you a "pedophile" regardless of what the context is. You would think Hansen would get sued a lot as a result, but apparently, if you search his history, he's a broke man. The context here? Onision slept with an adult who blackmailed him into sleeping with them. That's the boring facts. Her own admission, she blackmailed him with threat of destroying his life. A quote along the lines of "I could destroy you guys" --- which coincidentally is what Shiloh also said on camera, only it was in reference to just Onision after he dumped her (she was hauled away by police shortly after) - things starting to make sense? Two psychotic criminal peas on a pod? So two crazy human beings (Shiloh and Sarah) who are crazy evil and... their little weird irrelevant minion Regina - Join forces to, yes, make money, and yes, get tons of attention, to get back at the people who rejected Sarah/Shiloh - or in Regina's case, she's pissed because when she was a homeless minor, Onision's spouse refused to fly her up and just said something along the lines of "that sucks" in response to this random person online complaining about being homeless... and expecting Onision's spouse, to just be like "Sure danger creep, I'll fly you up!" - nope - and now Regina is mad! But of course Regina claims she was sex trafficked on legal documents to defraud Google/YouTube now... WEIRD STRETCH BUT OK. "They didn't fly me up because I was a stranger to Onision and his spouse was creeped out by me/had no interest in flying some random person up, so... pay me!" Long story short Regina and Sarah are now part of a plot to get Google to settle (pay them tons of undeserved money) over their horribly concocted shit agenda against Onision/his awesome spouse. They're evil, vile and disgusting human beings, as is proven in this video, and the other video posted weeks ago on the Onision channel. What's awesome is it's actually mostly THEIR OWN ACTIONS, WORDS & VIDEOS that destroy their narrative. Much of it isn't Onision destroying their arguments - IT'S THEM! THAT'S WHY YOU DON'T LIE, IDIOTS!

Wanted to document the descriptions and info on these videos. Haven't watched the 2nd one yet.

[tomyo]

It needs to be understood if I’m venting on here, it is me making a diary of my emotional process (ie I am processing the feeling and not the full situation). There is a limited amount of personal information going into interpersonal relationships that I want to dish out on a still public platform so I’m not going to give fully detailed nuances. When I’m saying I am craving the social contract of a partner [to fill in for found family dynamics], it is in part me saying “I sometimes need support that is tangible not just emotional.”. It can sound materialistic but at the same time it feels somewhat stressful to not reliably be able to ask someone to stay at their place, be to ask for help getting somewhere if I don’t have a car, or be able to cover for me. I don’t INTEND to ask people for these things but it sucks knowing that I had felt these elements of stability more when I did not live in CT. I had someone to come with me to the clinic (should of been the hospital) when I cut my hand open, I could stay at a friends apartment if I was locked out or in a bad fight with a previous roommate, I had people willing to transport me to cons so I didn’t have to or when I didn’t have a car. Sometimes emotional support cannot remove the mental burden.

And by like extension, the reason why I keep mentioning a partner is usually that comes with some level of wanting cohabitation??? Like it is obviously easier to manage as household as a functioning couple rather than as a single person. I’m slightly annoyed that it’s happened more than once someone has said “your expectation of a relationship doesn’t sound right” when I’m not trying to describe a healthy relationship, I’m trying to process honest feelings and the emotional root of them. In the social hierarchy of our society, friendships are a broad range of a bond type and that vagueness does not have the same expectations as a relationship. It is considered morally wrong to end a relationship without a formal withdrawal from it but cutting off or ghosting a friendship is not as taboo. Higher levels of support are not a given expectation in friendships. “I need to go to be taken to the hospital” for instance is a situation where a family member or a romantic partner (who is put on a similar level from the expectation they will one day be legally family) is 100% expected to prioritize that issue but is only under specific circumstances expected of a friendship (ex. I am going to die if you don’t). Now this is somewhat of a different experience for me in queer circles and how found families develop but I cannot emphasize enough that is not the same in CT. Living outside of New England and going places across the country, I know for a fact there are cultural differences within the US people don’t even realize. Like it’s a partial joke the northwest is full of mean people but I cannot understate that CT is a spoken bond culture. I cannot understate how unaffectionate CT is compared to other states. I cried early on from the difference in platonic affection. Ngl just absolutely triggered when I’m treated like I’m just saying “a relationship would fix everything.” When I’m not. I’m saying that I know what type of platonic relationships I like and I’m reaching dead ends when I’ve tried to build those so it feels like I’m in a place where I need to seek a relationship to get it.

If I could be so real right now, I do not have enough fingers and toes for the amount of times I’ve been MPDG’d and you become so hyper aware of the shift in attitude people give you when they want you to fulfill something for them whether they know it or not. It is not just cishet men even if it is commonly them and is not even always romantic. ‘Sparkling eyes’ is the best way to put it when they see an aspect of you that they want to bask in. It’s taking basic friendship as jump at love, it is building the idea you’ll be best friends within a week of knowing you, its expecting me to be your yesman or token gay who says you’re approved, it’s overvaluing their traits in a way like they expect me to change their life. I am not a blood bag, I’m a person. I don’t feel people always respect that I am a person. Potentially if I have a fucked up idea of relationships it’s in part all the fucked up ways people have treated a relationship with me. If I think in black and white it’s because people kept ignoring my boundaries when I said I wasn’t interested and burned into me that I’ve lot a friend the moment they tell me they like me. I’ve been coerced, I’ve been stalked, and it makes it hard not to value when people value me a little less. Like again it hits that people really think they aren’t being weird but I see the breadcrumbs and I’m always fucking right. If I’m always in a position where others are waiting to get something off of me on their conditions then yes, I highly desire the social structure where I’m expected something in return whether it’s fucked up or not.

#tomyo says shit #mental health #did not want to do this directly because it feels more targeted if I do #slightly annoyed knowing this would occur when I made that last post #it’s also just the thing where like #people think you’re on even ground when you’re not #not necessarily directed at the person that led me to making this #because like I’m also still salty that a whole half year of trying to flirt #led to being made the bad guy when I moved on #I’m tired of everyone expecting me to go with their terms with no pushback #and I know I’m guilty of similar practices #but some shit is not the same #vent #fr triggered rn

[nat-20s]

 Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references  we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour. 

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways. 

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

#tma #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #post canon #wonderful! au #my fic

[ms-demeanor]

Some meandering thoughts about jokes about rape and cultural changes in the last decade and a half

Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad we’re in a place now where we DO question rape jokes and it would be much harder to get away with “raping Jonah Hill is incredibly amusing” as the center of a scene the way that you could in 2007-2013 but I do kind of feel like we don’t talk about how sudden that change was enough.

People talk about how you should have always known that awful things are awful but if you’re surrounded by rape jokes and pedophilia jokes all the time and that’s what’s funny to the other kids around you and the adults in your lives and what makes up the jokes in the movies you watch then it’s hard to act like you always knew it was wrong.

Dead baby jokes were a HUGE thing when I was a teen and in my early twenties and sitting around swapping dead baby jokes was just a thing we did, and tossed in among them were things like:

A joke about incest with the punchline “Get off me pa, you’re crushing my smokes.”

This joke about a pedophile murdering a child.

Let’s not turn this rape into a murder.

And hell, look at the activity graph for “soap on a rope” on urban dictionary:

2014 starts a significant taper.

Letterboxd has their “sexual assault against men played for comedy page” and if you sort by release date there’s a downward trend with 2014 as a really stand-out year for rape jokes about men in popular movies:

2010 - 10

2011 - 12

2012 - 14

2013 - 12

2014 - 18 (jesus, which includes a prison rape joke in “Paddington”)

2015 - 9

2016 - 9

2017 - 11

2018 - 15

2019 - 4

2020 - 1

(this is of course with the caveat that this is only what has been documented so far)

Shock porn sites used to be a thing and they used to be a COMMON thing. A thing that would get remixed and have late night hosts make jokes about them and that got parody music videos.

So on the one hand I was really glad that in 2010 the hacker conference WASN’T asking me to make a rape joke on their tee shirt, but since Pool 2 Girl came up at every single “this is what defcon is about” discussion and some of the guys from the con had printed up “lemonparty.org” stickers to slap up around town it wouldn’t have been *surprising* if they’d been asking for that.

If you were a teenager in 2005 would you have known how much of a dick move goatse-ing people was? We didn’t have the same culture of trigger warnings (not that I disapprove of trigger warnings, they are good and I like them) and there was very much an attitude online at the time of “if you can’t handle it log off.”

I think the fappening was the turning point for a lot of this stuff - I think that was a big cultural moment that changed a lot of people’s attitudes really quickly and I’m seeing echos of that with what Chris Evans is dealing with right now: people are a lot faster to say “oh, that sucks, don’t be an asshole, report people for posting the pics” while I remember sitting and arguing in an imgur thread because there were a bunch of people saying “if you don’t like it don’t take nudes” about the celebrities who got caught in the icloud leak.

People look at Shane Dawson’s (admittedly gross and incredibly inappropriate) behavior with a poster of Willow Smith and act like it’s unprecedented***** but as someone who remembers not only Olsen Eighteenth Birthday countdowns but ALSO the jokes about fucking the Olsen twins that came BEFORE they were legal that’s just bizarre. Seeing people my age and older react to James Gunn’s pedophilic twitter jokes like they’re worse than Jay Leno’s jokes about Michael Jackson (which were made on TV! Across America! On a major network!) is just. It’s bizarre.

I’m glad we are where we are now, I’m glad that making rape jokes in public or jokes about incest or pedophilia (or murder or abortion) is less common and less okay (especially in children’s media, jesus fuck) and more likely to get criticized.

But I’m also pretty sure I’m going to get called a rape apologist by *someone* for saying “2010 was a different time, rape jokes were more common and we didn’t realize how shitty it was” when it really was a different time and rape jokes were more common and most people didn’t realize how shitty it was. I sure didn’t. I do now, and I’m glad I do now. But pretending that we should have ALWAYS known this, pretending that this was NEVER acceptable, pretending that it WASN’T a different time is ignoring the fact that for over a decade there was an entire genre of pedophilic rape jokes (that were frequently also racist) centered around one celebrity and that people told these jokes in public and in pop culture *all the time.*

Does that make it right? Fuck, I don’t know, shit is relative. It was still largely acceptable to electrocute gay kids and people tossed around the word “faggot” pretty freely. Mean Girls is full of jokes about how awful it is for people to think you’re a lesbian and Superbad is full of jokes about getting people shitfaced so they’ll sleep with you (so date rape) and there’s an entire “cute comedy” from the 80s starring Kurt Russel and Goldie Hawn that’s an extended rape-by-fraud joke. I think that as a whole we’re better now as people than we were in 2010 and the 90s and the 80s and the 50s and I don’t think that someone who made a sexist joke in the 80s is irredeemably evil and I don’t think people making rape jokes in the 2010s are rape apologists in 2020 and I wish there was a lot more understanding of both history and nuance in these conversations.

*****to be very, very clear Shane Dawson has been filmed kissing underage fans on the mouth and having explicit sexual conversations with his very young cousin - Dawson has done things that go beyond “inappropriate” and fall clearly into “wrong” “bad” “dangerous” “illegal” etc, which is all the more reason that it’s so strange to see people focusing on him fake masturbating on a poster of Willow Smith. YES doing that was gross but why is it even being compared to the way he’s been filmed interacting with fans? The lack of nuance, making “fake masturbating at a poster” and “creating a sexually abused puppet character” the same as “inappropriately touched and kissed minor fans and engaged a young child in explicit sexual conversations” is NOT GOOD. That is a bad thing. Two of those things are tasteless and two of those things are actively harmful and it’s the actively harmful stuff that we should be focusing on and part of why it’s really weird to see shit like “pizzagate conspiracist accuses James Gunn of making inappropriate jokes” like yes Gunn please don’t but can we maybe refocus and talk about the dude who can be pretty significantly assigned blame for a fucking shooting? https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/aug/01/james-gunn-alt-right-marvel-film-director-tweets

Actually, you know what, I thought I was done ranting, I’m not.

It’s purity culture.

YES you should attempt to do less harm with your language, YES you should attempt to not use slurs, YES you should try to avoid making rape jokes. But there’s an entire huge group of people who are willing to drag up rape jokes from a decade when rape jokes were REALLY REALLY common in order to say that nothing you say or do today matters.

And that same group is ALSO really interested in expanding the concept of what pedophilia is to include age differences in adults or liking the wrong style of drawing and it’s a purity culture silencing tactic and can we PLEASE stop pretending that gross, tasteless jokes are the same thing as actually sexually abusing people? Can we stop pretending that pointing out “rape jokes were more common fifteen years ago and I feel bad about it but that’s just the way it was and I don’t make jokes like that anymore” is the same as saying “rape isn’t bad and you shouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”

It’s always good to try to be a less shitty human but if you’re only allowed to grow and improve and be less shitty if you never fucked up in the first place then it’s all just calvinist bullshit and none of us could ever really be saved in the first place.

I dunno, dudes. We got so careful about disapproving of the wrong kind of language that we let a white supremacist concern troll Disney into firing a director who caught the attention of the alt right by shit-talking the president.

I think perhaps we need to reexamine some strategy here.

[football-writing]

Mason Mount - believe in me

Warning: contains mentions of mental health issues and depictions of a panic attack. Also is generally a bit of an angsty one so if you're not comfortable with reading any of that please skip this! And if you yourself are struggling with mental health, I'm always here for you! <3

*also panic attacks can differ from person to person so please take everything i've written with a grain of salt lmao

He was franctically looking for his car keys after the texts he had gotten from her.

"Mase can you come over?

i need u

please"

Double texting wasn't a rare occurence between the two of them, but the tone of texts made worry take over as he quickly texted her back that he'd be there soon.

And as soon as he found his keys, he was sprinting for his car and driving as fast as he legally could to get to her apartment, cursing as he couldn't find a parking spot quick enough for his liking. Then running up the stairs, taking two steps at a time to get to her as soon as possible.

Her door was open already, something she always did when she knew he was coming over, despite him scolding her for it everytime because he was scared someone was gonna break in and hurt her.

Those thoughts were on the back of his mind now as he rushed in, finding her sitting in front of her couch with her knees up to her chest, hugging them tight as her forehead was rested on top of them, shielding her face. Papers were spread around her, some crumbled up in balls, others thrown a few feet in front of her. The mess that was her apartment was a red flag for him, but it didn't shock him as much as the state she was in. Her breaths came out hard and fast as she barely could breath between her erratic sobs.

He stood frozen as he watched her. As quick as he got here, he had no idea what to do when he saw her like that. His chest tightened at seeing her like this, and he was ready to fight whichever bastard caused her to feel this way. Yet the rational side of him knew that that was of no use to her now. But what was? What was he supposed to do when his she was this upset? Sure he'd seen her upset before. But not like this.

He realised he couldn't just stand there either, and so took a few steps towards her. The sound of his footsteps alerted her of his presence, and she looked up through watery eyelashes. Her pale face stained with rundown mascara from her tears, her lips quivering as she silenced her sobs for a short moment to look at him. Yet as soon as she made eyecontact with him, and opened her mouth to try to explain what was going on, or apologise for the state she was in, a loud sob escaped, her breath stocking in her throat as tears flooded her eyes once again.

This time he didn't freeze, although his heart ached just as bad, if not worse. He took another couple of steps until he was right next to her, crouching down as his eyes remained focused on her form.

"Hey sweetheart. Shh, it's okay. Can I hug you, baby?" His tone was soft as he asked her, yet she shook her head vigorously and squeezed her eyes shut tightly at his question as her breathing instantly became more uneven, and he thought she was going to faint if her breathing came out any faster than it did now.

But how was he going to comfort her when she didn't want him to hold her?

It was then that he remembered one of his mates telling him about a panic attack he had, how he couldn't think straight, or breathe, barely utter out a coherent sentence as his mind had wandered to awful things, and although it had sounded rough to him at the time, seeing her like this made him fully recognise how terrifying it is. He wished he had asked his mate more about it, then, so he knew what to do. Although he had no idea how to start such a conversation with him. Nor with her, for that matter.

So he did what he thought would help her most. He picked up some of the papers spread out around her, neatly stacking them together as he emptied a space next to her. Enough so he could sit down there, his back against the couch just like hers. Soothing words spilled from his lips in an attempt to calm her down. He almost reached out a hand to touch her, rub her back soothingly, or stroke her hair to make sure it didn't get in her face. Yet he withheld his urge to do so, even if it was the most natural way for him to comfort her.

"Hey. You don't have to say anything, okay? It's gonna be okay, I'm here. Shh, it's okay, love. I'm not going anywhere."

His soothing words did nothing to ease her mind, her cries coming out more ragged than before. He had no idea how he could've possibly made it worse, and panicked as to what to say next. Instead, she started speaking, her words cut off by devestating sobs and hiccups and gasps as she tried to take in as much air as she could.

"I thought I had it under control but- but I don't and everyone hates me now. Everyone hates me! And there's too much and- I don't have time and everything is messed up and I don't know how to goddamn fix it - I can't fucking fix it. I don't know what to do- I can't do it, Mase. I can't do it." She repeated those last few words over and over like she was stuck in a bad mantra, her voice raw and loud and full of pain.

"Hey, babygirl. Shush, it's okay. No one hates you, alright. I wouldn't be here if I did, right?" He tried to reason with her, tried to swallow the lump in his throat and steady his voice, not wanting to let on how much it affected him. It would do her no good. "Just keep breathing, yeah. Deep breaths, babygirl, just like that." He said as he demonstrated how to do it. It took her a good few minutes to get her breathing under control again, but he was patient with her as he kept guiding her, words of encouragement filling the air every time her breathing threathened to become unsteady again.

After her breathing became steady, as steady as it could, her sobs still continued. Her eyes spilling tear after tear that ran down her cheeks only to be caught by the sleeves of her sweater that her chin rested upon.

"I'm such a failure. I can't even function properly and look at me! Look at the mess I made!" She cried out exasperated. "I'm so worthless Mase. You shouldn't even be here, I just bring you down. I'm no good Mason. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Y/N," He tone was commanding, forcing her to look up at him. He kept eye contact as he spoke. "If you cannot believe in yourself, believe in me. You are the most wonderful, funny, intelligent and allround beautiful person I know. You are not a failure. At all. Whatever this is, we can fix it, okay? I got you, and we'll figure it out together. I'm not going anywhere."

His words were reassuring enough for her to steady her breathing, which eased the tight feeling in his chest. She lifted her head too, instead opting to sit back against the couch completely, the back of her head resting on the seat.

"Can you-" a sob interrupted her softspoken words "distract me?" A whispered 'please' followed her question as she turned her face to look at him. Her eyes were puffy and red, as were her cheeks. She still looked incredibly upset, but her sobs were less loud, and she seemed to have calmed down considerably from the state she was in when he found her.

"Yeah. Of course." He smiled softly at her.

"Do you want me to tell you about my day?"

She nodded as she wiped her nose with the sleeve that was pulled over the back of her hand.

And so he told her all about what he had been up to. It felt weird talking about his day, after all it had been quite decent up until her text. Still, he tried to talk as animatedly as he could, knowing it would cheer her up. He told her about how his sister had texted him pictures of her daughter's birthday cake, or what was left of it as her daughter had eaten it. With her bare hands, that is. Her hands that she had also somehow rubbed over the entire dining table and parts of the couch.

The story got a small chuckle out of her, and after a few more sniffles she seemed to have stopped crying. Yet he told her about his training too, in hopes of hearing her beautiful laugh ring throug his ears once again. He told her about how him and some of his teammates had dared Ben to get in the washing machine, and locked him up for a bit too. How funny he looked through the little window of the machine, how one of his mates had nearly pissed himself laughing so hard, and how Thiago had come in with no clue what was going on, having the most confused look on his face as he saw Ben stuck in the washing machine. The others laughing even harder, some of them with tears in their eyes.

The story made a smile appear on her face, but it wasn't until he showed her the video on his phone that she actually let out a small laugh. She had scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder to watch the video.

Somewhere along the whole ordeal he had resorted to pulling his knees up, rubbing his own shins in comfort instead of reaching out to her. It was instinctual, really, and he hadn't even noticed he was doing it, or still doing it, until she rested her hand atop of his, stopping his movement in the process.

"Sorry for scaring you. And saying no to the hug." She said sincerely after a few beats of silence, her voice still hoarse from crying, her fingers intertwining with his.

"Hey, no apologising for any of this, okay?" His voice was stern; he absolutely did not want her to feel guilty.

"Sorry." Although he couldn't see her face, and her voice still sounded strained, he knew she was smiling as she said it. Their usual teasing being back on meant she was okay. As much as she could be okay at this very moment.

"What did I just say, huh?" He joked as he put his arm around her, squeezing her tightly for a second before tracing soothing patterns on her upper arm with his indexfinger.

"You have these often?" His voice was more gentle than before, his tone serious again as he stilled his movements in anticipation of her answer.

"Yeah, sometimes. They come and go, really." She confessed.

"How come you never told me?"

"I don't know. Just never came up. S'not something you just blurt out." She shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, and he was quiet for a few beats before replying.

"I wouldn't have judged you, you know that, right?"

She hummed in response.

"Just want to make sure I know what to do to help you. How to make it more bearable for you."

"This was alright." Her voice was small, but his heart still warmed at her words.

He continued his tracing patterns on her arm then, as he contemplated what to say next.

"You want to talk about why it happened?" He could feel her tense under him as the question spilled from his mouth, and he scrunched up his nose in frustration as he cursed himself. Did he have to ask that and make her upset again?

"Not really. If that's okay?"

"Of course, love. I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about anything alright. We can do whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want my dear."

"Can we sit on the couch instead, then? My butt hurts from sitting on the floor." He let out a loud laugh at her sudden boldness. He knew they'd have another talk about it soon, once she wasn't as overwhelmed with emotions, and he hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but he wanted to learn more. Why she was stressed, what he could do to help her, both in situations like these, but also to prevent her from feeling like this at all.

"Will you cuddle with me, Mase?" She had made herself comfortable on the couch and grabbed the remote to look for something to watch on the telly, presumably her comfort series. Her voice cracked as she asked the question, and Mason smiled at that.

"I'll get you a glass of water first, 'ight?"

"And my blanket, please. It's in the right cupboard over there." She pointed to the right place as she smiled innocently at him. He rolled his eyes playfully at her request, pretending it was a mighty challenging request, and she stuck out her tongue in response. He also pretended not to hear her muttering something about spoiled footballers.

Still, it put a smile on his face. Even if she was still upset, knowing she could joke around with him, and felt comfortable enough doing so, meant that she wasn't in that bad place anymore. At least for now. He didn't want to risk her getting another panic attack while he wasn't there to help her though, so he opted to stay with her for the rest of the day and not moan about her jokes of him being a stereotypical footballer like he usually would.

It's not like he minded it all too much, anyway.

#God i'm so bad at ending these im sorry #also i didnt want to end it on too much of an angsty note i hope thats okay #also mason's love language is 1000% physical touch and you cant convince me otherwise lol #so this was hard to write but yeah i thought it was sorta fitting so i hope its okay and you enjoyed it :) #Mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount oneshot #mason mount fic #mason mount imagine #tw panic attack #<- just in case x

[xoxo-teddybear]

If you were to get a tattoo what type would you get and where would you get it?

Actually I got my first tattoo at 16! It was in honor of my grandfather and it was a protection symbol he made. Actually, all my cousins got it when he passed away and the reason why we chose this specific tat was because he made the design himself and he tattooed it on himself

Y’all my grandfather was a fucking. G! When I tell y’all this man was making bank he was MAKING IT ALL! Selling drugs, smuggling ppl into America, all that illegal jazz. Oh, and he drove a taxi too :)

(For legal purposes, this is a joke….😗)

But anyway, story time! My bitch cousin (we’ll call her Bitch) and her boyfriend (we’ll call him scum) tried to get my grandpa to hate my other cousin’s (we’ll call her Favorite) fiancé (we’ll call him Cool Guy.)

Anyway! The reason why they did that was Bitch and Scum wanted my grandpa to like Scum better than Cool Guy bc even tho both Scum and Coo Guy come from juvenile backgrounds, Cool Guy turned a new leaf and became a better person, earning my grandpa’s love and trust as a real part of the family. So Bitch and Scum lied and told my grandpa that Cool Guy was selling drugs in the house and y’all know what my grandpa did?

My grandpa said “okay.” And decided to speak to Cool Guy later. Later comes and Grandpa calls Cool Guy over and says ���Cool Guy…Bitch and Scum told me you’re selling drugs in the house…..that’s not how you sell drugs.”

And Cool Guy’s all like “wut •_•”

And grandpa all over there “you gotta have a nice setup and make your business known….” AND SO THIS 60 YEAR OLD MAN IS LITERALLY EXPLAINING TO THE EX-CON HOW TO SELL DRUGS PROPERLY AND NOT IN THE HOUSE😭

My grandpa did ALLLL the crimes. But he was such a sweet man. This was a little appreciation for my grandpa but also an explanation on my tattoo so if you read all the way through THANKS!

#bakugo x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bnha #mha

[five-rivers]

Stars Aligned Chapter 2

Here’s the thing.  Danny knew this was a dumb decision.  At least as dumb as stepping into the ghost portal (but at least he’d gotten some nifty powers out of that, hey?).  Whatever reason his bio-dad had for chucking him out the door within days of his birth couldn’t be good.  Putting himself within reach of the man…  Yeah.  Not his brightest thought.  

(Not to mention the wizards.  And witches.  That was so weird, how they had two different names for essentially the same thing. Then again… actor, actress…  Why were people so weird?)

On the other hand, twin brother.  Twin brother who had to live with aforementioned baby-abandoning bio-dad.  Twin brother who wasn’t allowed to visit America.  Or, Danny suspected, a family of squibs.  

Yeah.  

Yeah.  

So, here he was.  Getting everything in order for a wizard passport and wizard international travel, because bio-family refused to even look at an airport.  

Danny had a suspicion that, based on how they spelled the word and a few other comments in that particular letter, that they weren’t entirely clear on what an airport was.  

Fun.  

On the other hand, in comparison to the actual, normal, legal passport he’d gotten, just in case bio-family left him somewhere, wizard passports were much, much easier to get.  The wait times were practically nonexistent.  He could, in theory, get the passport on the same day he traveled.  All that was needed was proof he was a wizard and his adoption papers.  

Of course, ‘proof he was a wizard’ actually meant ‘wand.’  Wands being something they used as personal ID, despite the fact that they were a) sticks, and b) didn’t actually carry any personally identifiable information.  Sure, Jack said that they were somehow connected to their owners, but unless there were, like, giant books of details about everyone’s wands at every place that would, conceivably, need ID, and had people trained to identify all those tiny little characteristics…  Danny just couldn’t see how it would work.

Danny’s current theory was that all wizards were just insane, which meant that his twin would most likely fit right in with the rest of Danny’s family, right as soon as Danny figured out how to legally kidnap him.

(No, Danny didn’t have a ghostly Obsession, and it definitely wasn’t family related.  He was only half-ghost, after all.  Why do you ask?)

Anyway.  Wizard passport.  Wizard ID. Wizard sticks.  

Wands.  

Wands meant a nerve-wracking trip to the nearest wizarding town with Jack.  Evidently, he’d lived there a couple of years after his parents sent him away from Britain when he was around fourteen because of ‘the war.’

Abruptly, many of Jack’s stories about his childhood made more sense.

(It had always been something of a joke between Jazz and Danny to try and figure out what ‘the war’ was supposed to be, and if Jack’s parents had just… Conned him into thinking he’d eaten horse meat.  For some reason.  Even if the Fentons hadn’t seemed like that kind of people, no matter how eccentric.)

(Also, evidently Jazz and Danny had never met Jack’s biological parents, who were not named Fenton, although his adopted mother was also a witch.)

(Why was everything so complicated?)

 The “wizarding community” was a small town accessible only by a train line invisible to ‘no-majs.’  And also flying brooms.  Which wizards used.  Danny had seen the train before, not realizing that he wasn’t supposed to. Several times.  Usually while flying to Wisconsin to deal with whatever Vlad had done that week.  

If Danny was a wizard, was Vlad?  Was being half-ghost somehow tied up in being magical? What did that mean for Dani?

(Hey, maybe this whole affair could be used to bring Dani into the family safely.  Who was to say that he didn’t have a secret twin sister?)

Danny could admit that the town itself, which had almost a Ghost Zone vibe with how all the architecture seemed to be from fifty plus to a hundred years ago and also the physics breaking magic, was sort of cool. It was… cute, he guessed.  He didn’t really like how everyone was staring at Jack, their clothes were just as weird, but it wasn’t a new thing.  People always stared at Jack.  

That’s what happened when you wore hazard-orange jumpsuits twenty-four seven.  

The shops all had names out of a fantasy novel, and at one point they got turned around and wound up on a residential street where they had to ask for directions, but eventually they made it to ‘Willoughby’s Wand Emporium.’

The interior of Willoughby’s Wand Emporium reminded Danny strongly of a shoe store.  The shelves were all lined with boxes of approximately that size, and the employees all carried measuring tape.  It also smelled like a shoe store: musty and dry, with a hint of polish.  Or maybe it was wood varnish?  Or some kind of paint.  

A young woman bounced up.  “Hi, how can we help you today?  Replacement wand?”

“First time, actually,” said Jack.  

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman.  “You’re just so tall for your age.”

“I’m fourteen,” said Danny.  

The woman began to turn red.

“He was missed,” said Jack.  “It happens.”  He smiled, but it looked far more strained than usual.  

“Oh,” said the woman.  “Ahem.  Well, if you’ll come right this way, I can start taking measurements, and start trying out wands.  The wand chooses the wizard, they say!”

“Okay,” said Danny, shrugging.  That was… interesting.  Were the wands sentient?  Did that somehow make them acceptable IDs?

Seemed really weird to keep sentient things stored in boxes.

… Said the kid who stored sentient beings in a soup thermos.

A really high-tech soup thermos.

Didn’t make it better.  

Except he didn’t keep them in the thermos indefinitely.  Except for Dan.  

Danny didn’t know if the wizards kept the wands in boxes indefinitely, either.  Maybe he should stop assuming things.  That had gotten him in trouble with ghosts more than once.

The woman took her measuring tape from where it hung around her shoulders, held it out in front of herself, and promptly dropped it. It did not fall.  

As basic as levitation was for ghosts, it was really weird to see a human do it.  (Especially when it always took so much concentration for him to levitate things other than himself—Hence why he never really used the ability in battle.)

The measuring tape flitted around Danny’s head, shoulders, arms, and body, taking measurements.  He had to sit on his reflexes hard to prevent himself from trying to catch it or knock it out of the air.  

He was so nervous.  Was it normal to be nervous?

The measuring tape snaked back through the air to the woman, who smiled.  “Alright,” she said, “we can start with that.  Uh, to explain the process, we usually start out with wands in the appropriate size range and try and zero in on the ones that respond best to you from there.”  She flicked her own wand, and several thin boxes slid themselves off the shelves.  “We use a wide variety of wand woods from a variety of wandmakers.  Just about any tree that grows in North America is probably represented here.” She paused.  “Except for palm trees.”

“That makes sense,” said Danny.  Palm trees were quite different from other trees.  

“Alright.  Let’s start with pine.  The core of this one is dragon heartstring—Harvested humanely, of course!”

“Core?” said Danny, latching on to the familiar word even as he regarded the wand itself dubiously.  

“Yes.  As with our woods, we also stock a wide range of wand cores.  Each wand has a core made of a small part of a magical creature.  Dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, and phoenix feather are the standard ones…  But that standardization is rather British.  We have a few others available.  Thunderbird tail feather—Only taken during molt.  Wampus cat hair.  Dittany. Rougarou hair.  Jackalope antler…  Those are the more common ones, though we do have others.  Even some kneazle whisker, although most people don’t want those.”

“Why not?”

“Ah, they tend not to be very strong.  But sheer power isn’t everything.  Some prefer control, need lower power output…  or are worried about accidents while they’re learning.  We do see some adult learners every now and then.”

That actually sounded sort of appealing to Danny, but he supposed he’d better go about this normally.  At least at first.  

He picked up the pine wand and immediately dropped it.  

“Ow,” he said.  

“Ow?” repeated the woman.  “Oh,” she said, catching sight of the burn on his hand.  “That’s… not supposed to happen.”

“Y’know,” said Danny, conversationally, “I’ve only held, like, two magical things in my life, and both of them have damaged my hands. Is this, like, a common thing, or am I just ridiculously unlucky.”

“Second one, I think,” said the woman.  “Cynthia’s good at minor healing charms.  I’m going to go get her.  Okay?  Okay.”

Shortly thereafter, phoenix feather wands were also eliminated as a possibility, not because they burned Danny, but because they seemed intent on burning everything else around him.  Pine wands were also a definite no-go (“Don’t worry about the lifespan thing,” said the woman, “that’s a myth.”).  As was everything but elder, apple, pear, hornbeam, thorn, and yew (this list got another mention of myths from the shop assistant).  

At this point, the shop owner, Mrs. Willoughby, was drawn out from the back room to observe the mess Danny was making.  

“My,” she said, “I haven’t seen anyone have this much trouble in a while.  Heather, why don’t you go get some of the specialty cores.”

“I thought the unicorn was working well,” protested the woman who’d been helping Danny so far.  She winced as Danny picked up a new wand and exploded a light.  “Comparatively.”

“Yes, we could probably eventually find a unicorn hair wand that would work for him, but all things considered…  I feel like we should explore other avenues.”  She sniffed.  “Nothing associated with fire.  Perhaps kelpie mane?”

“I’ll check,” said Heather.  

.

Kelpie mane, it turned out, did the same sort of thing as phoenix tail feather when it came to Danny.  Only with a lot more water involved.  

“I didn’t think that would work, anyway,” said Mrs. Willoughby.

“Then why,” said Danny, wringing water out of his shirt, “did you have me try it?”

“Oh, cases like you greatly improve our understanding of wandlore,” said Mrs. Willoughby.  “You’re not likely to have noticed this yet, but the population of wizards and witches is so small compared to the no-maj population that everyone who gets very far in a profession has to be a bit of an innovator.  I’m recording this for future reference, and I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you do in life.  If anything.  It would be very helpful to me if you became famous.”

“Hard pass on that,” said Danny.  

“Or at least come back at some point.”

“I’ll consider it,” said Danny.  “But, like, we were really hoping to do other things today, so maybe…”  He made a circular motion with his hand.  “Or at least, ugh, I don’t know.  I feel like everything you give me is trying to kill me.”

It was a very familiar feeling, and a very unwelcome one, nonetheless.  

“We really aren’t,” said Mrs. Willoughby.  “But perhaps… from now on, we’ll limit to the woods to the Rosaceaes.  The others tend to be called unlucky.  Well, except for the hornbeam.  Is there anything you’re singularly passionate about?”

Singularly passionate?  “Not really,” said Danny, who did not think about ghosts or helping people or space. He shifted, uncomfortable, and squelched.  

Screw it.  He was supposedly a wizard, now, right?

He phased the water off himself.  

“Oh my god!” shouted Heather.  “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Uh,” said Danny.  “No?”

“Calm down, Heather.  Don’t act like you’ve never seen accidental magic before.”

“Not with a teenager doing it!”

They were now attracting a crowd.  Yay.  

“He’s not trained, yet,” said Mrs. Willoughby, unconcerned.  “Don’t be rude.”

“Yeah, can we get back on track, here?”

After a few more tries, Mrs. Willoughby had determined that the wood that reacted the least badly to Danny was hawthorn.  Then she sent Heather into the storage room to fetch more.  

“I don’t know why we even have these,” said Heather, under her breath, carrying several boxes marked with stamps that read ‘THESTRAL.’

“Because some people have trauma, Heather.”

“He’s a teenager.  I seriously doubt he has deep personal experiences with death.”

“Wow, way to assume, Heather,” said another shop assistant, who was passing by with a far-too-curious customer.  

“Here,” said Mrs. Willoughby, handing Danny a box.  “Try this one.  It’s hawthorn.”

With some suspicion, Danny slid the cover off the box and gingerly picked up the wand inside.  

It didn’t do anything like what the other wands had. Instead, the slender length of wood gave him a faint echo of the feeling he got when he was on an emotional high and engaging in either extreme mischief or obsession-adjacent activities (because he did not have a real, ghostly, capital-O Obsession).

Danny declined to hold it with all five fingers, lest he be overcome with mania.

Yes, he was paranoid.  But when touching things can go as badly for you as they did for Danny, paranoia was justified.  

“Oh, it looks like you’ve found your match,” said Mrs. Willoughby, clapping.  

With the ease of practice, Danny did not let any trace of horror or unease show on his face.  He ignored the surge of glee from the wand, and carefully placed it back in the box.  

Yeah.  He needed a wand for passport purposes, but there was no way he was going to use that.  He’d just fake magic with ghost powers.  It had been working out okay so far.  

What was the worst that could happen?

A rather relieved Jack paid for the wand, and they made their way, slowly, to the government building.  

“So,” said Jack.  “You want to save getting those beginner magic manuals for another day?”

“Absolutely,” said Danny.  He wondered if his twin had gone through anything even remotely like this and if it was really worth all this trouble to meet a person he would have basically nothing in common with other than blood.  

Blood that likely meant less than usual, considering that his was diluted with ectoplasm.  A fact he would have to hide.  With no allies or back up.  In England.

(Again, this whole endeavor was not his greatest idea.)

.

Draco supervised the house-elves as they cleaned out the room next to his own, feeling rather blank.  He had campaigned vigorously for his twin to come, but now that he was…

The boy, for all that he was as much a Malfoy as Draco, was an American for all intents and purposes.  What did Americans even like?  What did they call their bastardized version of Quidditch?  Would Deneb even know about wizard games?  According to the woman from the agency, he’d been raised as a muggle by those squibs he’d been placed with.  

Slowly but surely, Draco’s heart sank.  He had no idea what his twin would be like.  Deneb, despite being his brother, would essentially be a stranger.  

He was beginning to understand why his mother was so angry at his father.  

#danny phantom #dp/hp crossover #dp/hp twin au #stars aligned

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom season 2, episode 17-20 thoughts! finishing up season two! the finale is the THIRD 2-PARTER OF SEASON 2. that's so many! I wonder how many season 3 will have?

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-UERGH WHY DOES VLAD HAVE AN AI WITH MADDIE'S FACE ON IT. SOOO CREEPY. AND MORE 'CREATIONS' waiiiit. vlad is Dr. Frankenstein! (despite his ghost design obviously referencing vampires) HE HAS 'CREATIONS' HE MAKES THEN WONT TAKE REAL RESPONSIBILITY FOR!!! this bitch.

-danny was late and his friends immediately start going off about how hes inconsiderate, and has been treating them like sidekicks??? he just overslept, my god. chill. even if he has, be nicer about talking about it with him?? he really can't help that he sometimes has to chase the ghosts, or has a secret identity to protect...

-'what kind of ghost haunts a miniature golf course' umm. me as a ghost. next question

-imagine going home and theres a tiny child on your bed claiming to be your cousin. with as many cousins I have, I would probably believe her. but the 'ran away from home' BIT....SHES 12?? SHES SO TINY. I hate that they have her belly out in her ghost form, but I like how her colors are asymmetrical. something about her design...maybe the proportions?? are weird to me...anyway danny was good to feed her, but he shouldve taken her to his parents FIRST. or, tbh, probably jazz. (JAZZ DIDNT EVEN GET TO MEET HER!!! NOOO. I mean she said she'll be BACK BUT STILL)

-ANYWAY. shes voiced by AnnaSophia Robb, the girl who was in because of winn dixie, played as violet from charlie and the chocolate factory, and was the girl from bridge to terrabithia. (the movie that made me cry hysterically when I was 12 and I never watched it again because it Broke Me!) thats super cool.

-vlad sucks: the episode, basically. what's new!! I love how he's like, I'm Not A Villain. *immediately cuts to him torturing danny to make him transform, to get mid-transformation DNA, to perfect a Clone.* *immediately shows that he doesnt give a shit about his new daughter Dani and just wants a ''more perfect clone'' and will put her in danger to get that. will let her DIE to get that*

-Dani is danny's clone and is a girl? transgenderism....one of them has to be trans. or they both are.

-dani just. leaving at the end. WHAT? SHES 12. DONT JUST. NO!!! SHE WAS PROBABLY JUST BORN, A MONTH AGO AT MOST, RIGHT?? SHE NEEDS...SOMEWHERE TO LIVE. MONEY? FOOD?? A FAMILY?? AN EDUCATION???! WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S LEAVING!!! OKAY BYE I GUESS!!! D: concern!!!

-the next ep opens with skulker chasing a ghost down. ...does skulker count as a ghost hunter in the way valerie and danny do? I mean, sure, he hunts the good guys too, but he. he hunts ghosts...also, we haven't seen his Real Form since his debut episode! tiny...

-the guys in white are back! ngl, I assumed they were a gag for that one episode. you're telling me they might actually be a threat? ok.

-valerie in her lil nasty burger uniform looks so cute!! glad shes not in that mascot uniform this time. I guess she stopped hiding that she's working there now?

-gregor having white hair, dressed in black and white...and green eyes...sam has a Type, I guess.

-danny being unnecessarily hostile about gregor. danny!!! hes been nice so far. he looks a little...tall to be 14, but. danny doesnt know anything about him! (he does Suspect, but...you cant just spy on people and be rude to them from a hunch.) also, gregor kissed her, and when she freaked out, he was like 'oh no!! sorry, we can take it slow! I understand!' which was NICE. I hate jealousy plots still tho.

-altho. umm. tucker, being concerned about danny spying on them??? SAM AND YOU WERE SPYING ON DANNY AND VALERIE A FEW EPISODES AGO!!!!! im not saying its RIGHT, but dont be a hypocrite!!! AND THEN SAM BEING MAD ABOUT IT, TOO.

-DANNY IS A 7 ON THE SCALE OF ECTOPLASMIC POWER!!! out of 10? so I want to know where the other ghosts rank...I mean it's a list from the guys in white, so, it may not even be accurate, like, they havent seen ALL of his powers, have they?

-Lancer being like 'im not cooperating with the FEDS' until they said they could access his tax records. they already did that joke with jack, but like, its still funny. kings of tax evasion.

-tucker's aggressive third-wheeling. but gregor being super into it. gregor/tucker is the real ship here. then gregor kissing danny on both cheeks after hugging him. bi poly king gregor. (he does turn out to be a liar with a phoney accent. unsurprising, BUT THE CONCEPT OF HIM BEING GENUINE AND THEM ALL DATING IS FUN)

-THE...GUYS IN WHITE THINKING GREGOR IS DANNY PHANTOM. LMAOOO. GET HIS ASS. or,, Elliot. lmfao

-sam saying tucker is part of the package because theyre friends was super sweet <3 but also 'part of the package'...polyships are obviously the solution to these dumb jealousy/love triangle plots.

-danny crashed a whole plane. the collateral damage...

-is he....

-you know....

.... (ITS NOT GAY IF YOU'RE DOING IT TO PRETEND TO BE SOMEONE YOU'RE NOT, AND LIE TO A GIRL. RIGHT? he was getting a little too into pretending to enjoy tucker's company, and the above...c'mon, guy.)

-lmao, freakshow is in actual prison. I didn't expect a follow up, or for him to show back up! in the finale of this season, too!

-THE SICK TATTOO GHOST IS NAMED LYDIA!!! more Lore On her. freakshow seemed genuinely concerned about her. also, is she mute? I don't think she talked the first time we saw her, either. and we didn't know freakshow 'envied' ghosts, either, the first time, we just knew he was controlling them. interesting!

-...they literally stole the infinity gauntlet from marvel and called it the reality gauntlet. is that legal. what the fuck. even with the gems in the lil slots, having different powers...they had freakshow in jail, but didnt check his pockets??! hes just still in his lil outfit??? what kind of ...oh, its in amity park. yeah, all of the adults are idiots, okay, sure.

-'freakshow!' 'in the anemic flesh!' dude take some iron pills then. also, sure, the red eyes could be contacts for his aesthetic, but the whites of his eyes are yellow! does he have jaundice?! he severely needs more...like, every kind of vitamin. (this is what im worried about as freakshow attacks danny with giant robots)

-again, goth circus is a sick theme, and I love his goth train.

-oh FUCK every single person saw danny transform. on a stage. including his parents via TV. oh god. the guys in white and immediately like 'youre coming in for experiments!' SCARY. at least the crowd is willing to help him to escape...perks of now being a local celeb! even the kids at school are accepting :) this is what, the third time his family has found out? its always been an alt timeline tho. and danny fully intending to just rewrite things again instead of...I dunno, trying to roll with it this time? hes really worried his family won't accept him, huh...

-'maybe our son IS THE GHOST BOY, but its not as if our family's ghostly activities have EVER PUT YOUR FAMILIES IN DANGER' maddie. mmmmmmmmmmmm. okay.

-danny 100% prepared to run away from home because of this :( oh :( and saying his parents are 'looking for him, or a scalpel to dissect him with' ouch...

-THE GUYS IN WHITE TRYING TO ARREST A 14 YEAR OLD. fuck da feds.

-side note (another one about voice actors...) freakshow's voice actor, Jon Cryer, was lex luthor in pretty much every DC tv show, which is why I recognized his voice, because my dad loves those shows so I've seen a good bit of them without seeking them out...)

-the old man saying 'hey, i still had minutes left!' and danny saying 'you gotta watch those roaming charges!' about danny destroying the people in the diner's phones so no one could report seeing him...would kids today understand these things. can you even BUY minutes anymore...I remember my first phone being a flip phone, and the fact I always had minutes when my sister ran out super fast, because I didnt have friends calling or texting me like she did...:/

-the fentons being genuinely like 'why didnt danny trust us and tell us this, we love him :(' and JAZZ LAYING INTO THEM WITH THE 'DISSECTION/MOLECULE BY MOLECULE' LINES. LITERALLLLY. they need to apologize

-technically, lydias stronger than you! -jazz lesbianism moments! when did you even learn her name!!! but also get freakshows ass. lydia is also cooler looking. looove her design sm still.

-jazz psychoanalyzing freakshow... (also, her also having ghost envy? au where jazz is a ghost!! id like to see it)

-im glad the kids still got to go to their respective vacation things, even if they cant really stick around and enjoy them much...

-furry: confirmed. (also tucker calling her hot. tucker is a furry confirmed)

-danny being mad someone at the comic con is selling comics of him without permission, lmfao. give him his royalties!

-freakshow > thanos because hes a drama clown and does use his gauntlet to be FLASHY AND DRAMATIC.

-jazz's 'USE PYSCOLOGY' to danny about freakshow LMAOO. AND THEN IT WORKING. but, oh, freakshow's ghost form sucks. I like him as a clown better tbh. good thing danny took away his ghost powers!

-his parents hugging him and saying theyre proud :"( and saying 'of course you lied to us, we never gave you a reason not to!' and saying they were in the wrong basically for always talking about hurting ghosts aaaa :""(

-then he WIPED THEIR MEMORIES AGAIN!!! FUCK. I can understand him wiping the goverments/student bodies' memories, but why his parents?? they were being accepting!! ARGHHH. season 3 couldve been them all trying to adjust to them knowing!

-I know, on a meta level the showrunners probably wanted to just reset things to the status quo of him having a secret identity. But. We've been doing that for (2) seasons, I'd love if season 3 could be like, his parents adjusting to this and trying way harder to learn more and accept it (and the shenanigans that could come from that) and for fun, if he didn't wipe the students memories, it could be him being popular for a while, then everyone slowly realizing, oh, he's still Danny. Like. he might have ghost powers but hes Just The Same Guy instead of putting him on a pedestal (and seeing them all try and help him hide it from the giw/people who don't know!!)

-fuck they didn't even explain WHY he wiped everyone except sam, tucker and jazz's memories. he just Did It right when his parents were saying they loved/accepted him!! and sam and tucker didnt question it at all!!! HELLO??? very annoyed about this turn of events.

-anyway. onto season 3! I know its shorter than the first two seasons, and is the last season... I might just do it in 2 bursts if I can... :3c depends on the episodes' content and how much I want to say about each!

#sanchoyorambles #danny phantom #dp thoughts

[songficsbyrissi]

Lost Ones (Spooky Diaz x Reader)

Warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of pregnancy, abortion, and deadbeat fathers.

“And I ain't too proud to tell you

That I cry sometime, I cry sometimes about it

And girl, I know it hurt, but if this world was perfect

Then we could make it work, but I doubt it” - J. Cole

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

Oscar “Spooky” Diaz sat on the edge of the bathtub, holding the blue and white stick tightly like you didn’t just pee on it. For some reason, he thought staring at the digital screen would change from 1 word into 2. Unfortunately, it was still that one word.

Pregnant.

You, his girlfriend, was pregnant. When you had suspicions that you were pregnant, you secretly went to the store to purchase 3 pregnancy tests and once you took them, they all said that same word.

Pregnant.

You and Spooky were expecting a child and this was not good news at all.

“Oscar, please say something.” You whispered so softly, staring at him with dried tears on your face.

He remained silent, still staring at the test. His head was swimming with thoughts. Maybe you weren’t even pregnant. Maybe it’s a prank and you were lying, but you were not this good of an actress. Besides, you would’ve busted out laughing by now.

Then the thought came to him that maybe it wasn’t his but that thought got shot down quickly in his head. You loved him with all your heart. You wouldn’t do that to him.

Did you purposely get pregnant? What happened to birth control? Then again, if you were to purposely get pregnant, you would be jumping in joy and not sitting on the floor in despair.

You got up from the floor and walked up to him, taking his hands. Your pleading eyes made contact with his.

“Please talk to me. Say something.”

Spooky finally spoke. “How did this happen?”

You sighed shaking your head. “Well when a man and a woman love each other very much or like each other or they’re just drunk enough, they wanna express it in a physical way which happens to produce a baby.”

Spooky had an unimpressed scowl on his face. “That’s not funny.”

“Do you see me laughing?” You shot back, tilting your head. Your head came back into its original position and you sighed once again.

“We need to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? We can’t have a kid. Talk over.” Spooky got off the bathtub, tossing the pregnancy test in the trash. He washed his hands and went into the fridge to get a beer. All you could do was watch him do all this in shock. He chugged down the beer and you stared at him with your arms folded.

“Seriously, Spooky?”

He slammed the fridge close, glaring at you. “Seriously what? You really think it’ll be a good idea for us to have a child?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s not like we never talked about it.”

“Yeah, we talked about it. FOR THE FUTURE.” Spooky got close in your face, emphasizing the last 3 words. “The future where we’re older, smarter, making a lot of money and most importantly, married. We are none of that right now.”

“I know that, and I know that this isn’t the ideal situation to bring a baby in, but like it or not, it’s here.” Your arms were folded again. You were hoping he would have a better response to this.

“Not for long because you’re getting that abortion, right?” He questioned taking a swig of beer.

You had a look on your face, as if he slapped you hard across the face and spit in it. You could physically feel your heart break. The man you love doesn’t want you to have his child. You couldn’t believe it. He had to be joking. Spooky saw the shocked and hurt expression on your face and sighed. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He never means to hurt you but he had to be realistic here. This is a life that was being discussed. 

“I’m not trying to fight with you, Princesa. I’ve just been actually thinking. How are we going to raise a kid by ourselves? We are only 23!” He gestured all around you. “Does this seem like a good place to raise a kid? This neighborhood is dangerous. Where are we going to move to? Somewhere safer? Somewhere safer costs more money. Baby, I’m an ex-con. Only the jobs that barely pay shit hire ex-cons. We can’t live off your little receptionist job alone!”

You didn’t say anything. You just kept staring

at him with tears in your eyes. He took it as a sign to continue.

“Listen, I don’t want to bring mi hijo or mi hija in this world if I ain’t got shit to give them. I’m not going to leave but you gotta really think about it. Would it be smart for us to bring a child into this?”

Once your boyfriend finished his speech, you just backed away from him and stared out the window where kids were playing jump rope and riding their bikes outside. Little girls playing patty-cake and hopscotch while little boys played basketball and tag. You couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on your face.

Looking out of the window gave you a bit of hope but Spooky didn’t see it. Maybe he didn’t want to see it.

“We have less than 9 months to figure something out.” You croaked out, still staring at the scene outside the window.

You heard a frustrated sigh behind you. “You’re not getting it.”

You finally turned around with angry tears flowing down your face. “No! You’re not getting it! You must’ve forgotten all the conversations we had way back! You remember those fucking conversations, Oscar?!”

He stared at you as the flashback hit him.

“It’s really crazy how Toya got pregnant. We’re only 21. We just became legal to drink and now she can’t.” You sighed as you laid your head on your boyfriend’s lap as he watched TV. He cleared his throat and didn’t say anything. He was always a man of a few words. Part of the reason why people feared him so much. Other than his little brother Cesar, you were the only person he would actually hold a full conversation with and talk for hours.

“Baby?” You said as you rose from his lap making eye contact with him. His hooded eyes focused on you. “What if we-“

“We’re not.” Spooky cut you off, already knowing where you were going with this.

“But what if.....we did?” You questioned softly. “And what would we do about it?”

Spooky groaned throwing his head back. “It’s not gonna happen. We’re smart.”

You folded your arms. “Smart people get pregnant too.” Your boyfriend inhaled deeply and didn’t say anything.

“The only 100% effective way to prevent pregnancy is not having sex and we’re obviously not going to do that.” You stated causing your boyfriend to snort in amusement and you elbowed him, rolling your eyes. “Seriously, Oscar. What if I was to get pregnant now? What would we do? What would you do?”

“I would do whatever it takes to make sure you and the baby are good. No matter what. The baby’s created and we gotta take responsibility because God don’t make mistakes. So if we tried to prevent it and you still ended up pregnant, we would just have to deal with it and make sure our child is born into a good situation.”

You just blinked because you were relieved that he wasn’t dismissing this conversation. He was actually thinking realistically. You saw him clench the bottle of beer he was drinking in anger.

“My father.....left me and Cesar and I still hate him for it. How am I supposed to be a father to him if I never got the chance to be a son? I always told myself that I would never put my child in that situation. It just starts a fucked up cycle and who knows when that cycle will be broken?”

Oscar shook his head as if he was trying to shake tears that were threatening to fall away. He took another drink of the beer. “I refuse to be him. I refuse to be a coward and turn my back on what I created.”

You smiled planting a soft kiss on his lips. “You’ll never be him.”

“Or did you forget that? Did you forget telling me that you wouldn’t turn your back on this? On us?”

“I’m not turning my back! I’m thinking realistically, Y/N!” Spooky began to shout now. He rarely shouted at you. That’s how you knew you were really under his skin.

“Oh really? Your exact words were-“

“I know what my exact words were! What you’re not getting is I changed my mind. People change, Y/N.”

You snorted in disbelief, laughing sardonically. “You sure did.”

“Don’t do that,” Spooky warned in a low voice coming closer but you didn’t back down.

“No! Fuck you Oscar! I should’ve known this is how you would act! You said you love me, now look at you! Singing a different song now that shit got real! I should’ve known you weren’t different from the rest. The rest of those guys who say whatever to get what they want! I LET YOU HIT RAW!” You pushed his chest as hard as you could, with your chest heaving up and down. “I let you fuck me raw, and now, I’m pregnant and you got the nerve to get in my face, talking about some abortion. This is my body, Oscar! I’m not aborting this baby! The only person taking this baby from me is God and last time I checked, YOU AIN’T GOD!”

“Y/N-“

“No! Shut the fuck up! I let you speak, and now it’s my turn!” You shoved a finger in his face as tears continued to roll down your face. “I’m going to love this baby, with or without you! My mom raised me by herself, and I’ll do the same with this child! I still don’t understand how you could be standing in my face, saying that when you said you hated your father and you would never be like your father! That you wouldn’t do that shit he pulled, but look at you! Doing the same shit! You ain’t shit! You ain’t shit to me, and as far as this child is concerned, you ain’t gonna be shit to them either.”

You got out of his sight, still holding a hand to your belly, and headed into the bathroom to continue crying your eyes out.

Spooky took a deep breath, trying to figure something out. He figured you didn’t mean what you said. You were just really upset. He had to make a decision. Stay here and wait for you to come out so you can probably talk about this or go out for a drive, giving you and him some space to cool down. He chose the latter, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

On the drive, Spooky watched the scene where kids were playing and having fun. He began reminiscing about the times when Cesar was little and he would play with him outside. He remembered the tiny smile on his innocent face. He remembered how scary it was keeping Cesar safe on his own but he did it. He managed to raise his brother on his own and seeing that Cesar doesn’t want to be part of the Santos, he’d like to think he did a pretty good job.

Spooky doesn’t know how he did it but he managed to drive right to the park where he and his brother used to play on. There were still kids there. His hazel eyes focused on a little girl being helped by her dad on the monkey bars, giggling uncontrollably. Somehow, the little girl turned a little boy and her dad became....his dad. The little boy was him. He saw his younger self grin as he hung off the monkey bars and his father giving him a small smirk. The grin dropped a little. That memory happened before his father left his life and never came back.

“What about your seed, man?” His younger self looked straight at him and asked. Spooky’s eyes narrowed in confusion and he could’ve sworn he was seeing things.

“What about your seed?”

The vision returned back to the little girl smiling as she finished the monkey bars with her father grinning in pride. She hugged her father’s legs and he lifted her up, kissing her cheek repeatedly as she giggled in happiness. It was a beautiful sound.

He pulled off after he came to the conclusion that you and him had a lot to discuss. Maybe, he was too hasty, telling you to abort the baby. Maybe he was just scared and freaked out that he wanted the easy out but now he’s realizing it’s not necessarily what he wanted. But you were not going to find that out while he was out. He gotta go back home to you.

“Y/N?”

This house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Spooky began to investigate. He went into the bedrooms and the bathroom. No sign of you anywhere. Your clothes were gone and you left no trace of you anywhere. You left him.

He took his phone out of his pocket to call you when a piece of paper on the counter caught his attention. It was handwritten and it only said two words.

You won.

Spooky clenched the note, falling onto the chair and just kept staring at those two words that managed to completely break his heart. What hurt the most is that he wasn’t sure what you meant by saying he won. Did you leave him for good, dedicated to being a single mother or did you change your mind, got the abortion, and left him because you hated him? Either way, you were wrong.

He was no winner at all in this situation.

TAGS: @karmawaelualani @chaneajoyyy @ctrlszn @witchything @sabrinafey @penguinpower17889 @robingreysantos @namjoonwatcheshentai @pananegra @bloatedandlonly @blackmissfrizzle @chonisberonica @flamingweasley @cynthetic @momobaby227 @this-glitter-pussay

If you wanna be added or removed, just let me knowwwww

#spooky x reader #spooky diaz x reader #spooky diaz #spooky x black reader #spooky diaz x black! reader #Oscar Diaz #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz x black reader #oscar diaz x black! reader #on my block fanfiction #on my block fanfic #songfic #on my block #on my block fic #on my #on my block imagine #spooky diaz imagine #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz fanfic #spooky diaz fanfiction

[angels-heap]

I just got a glimpse of that “fandom isn’t for adults” ask (I haven’t had internet access for a solid 6 weeks) and I’m just like

Wtf has happened in the past 15 yrs? When I was a young teenager and joined a fandom in 2008, EVERYONE WAS AN ADULT. Mostly mid 20’s and above. It was a forum, and there were maybe a handful of teenagers out of the hundreds of people active any given day. We even joked about it and had a little forum group called “Teens of [forum]” bc there were so few of us

At 14 I was well aware that fandoms were mostly adults and that I was a guest in their spaces. I pretty much expected that everyone I’d talk to on the site was an adult and that I, a teenager, was an outlier.

Fandoms were built by adults. I legit don’t get why some kids these days are so entitled, who do they think writes most of the fic? Makes fanmerch? Also this obsession with being a “minor” like when I was a teenager no one EVER called themselves “minors”. We were “teens” and I hated being called a kid or a child, found it infantilizing

I haven't been active in fandom long enough to have a clear sense of when, why, or how this shift happened, but speaking as someone who spent most of their late childhood and teenage years in a different adult-oriented online space... yeah. I remember being very aware that the internet was not made for my safety or comfort, and I was (and still am!) grateful for the cool adults who made a point of engaging with me while remaining cognizant of my age and setting appropriate boundaries. I'm still in touch with many of those people 10+ years later and some of them became close friends as I grew up.

But god, I hated being called a child or kid or even teenager publicly, because it felt infantilizing and I had a healthy, reasonable fear of being "outed" as a minor in public spaces. This whole culture of kids loudly advertising their "minor" status (and their birthdays! and their real names! and where they live!) in the name of "internet safety" gives me hives. That's, like, the exact opposite of what you should be doing if you want to stay safe, and demonizing all adults means there's nobody to look out for you if things go wrong.

If I had to guess, I'd say the whole "I'm a minor!!!" thing probably evolved in tandem with the rise of purity culture in fandom spaces, though I'd be curious to learn more about the exact sequence of events that got us to this point. "Minor" seems to be the preferred term, as opposed to "child" or "kid," because it highlights the important (and, granted, often US-centric) legal distinction between a "child" and an "adult," which makes some sense... until you see it used as a trump card in Extremely Online fandom discourse that has nothing to do with ns/fw content or anything else where the legal meaning of "minor" actually matters. And, of course, there are those cases where it's obviously being used as a substitute for "child who can't be expected to know better," even when that "child" is way over the age of 18 and/or has done or said something objectively reprehensible. (Being a “minor” doesn’t let you off the hook for harassment and suicide baiting, kids.)

I don't have much to say here that hasn’t been said more coherently elsewhere, but hoo boy, a part of me almost wants all "adults" in fandom to swear off of it for 6 months or something and see how quickly the kids complain about the lack of merch, zines, new content, and cons.

#asks #anon #sorry it took me so long to answer this #been busy and needed time to process all this sensibility in my inbox #a welcome change from the usual garbage

[repentantsky]

5 Companies That Have Too Much Hype Around Them

Look, we all love our favorite games with a passion, and to an extent that’s fine, but when that passion becomes obsession and that obsession becomes forgetting our own moral compass for the sake of entertainment, it does feel like it’s gone too far. It’s one thing to love what a company releases, it’s completely another to ignore every problem they’ve ever had. Not all of the companies on this list have done horribly un-ethical things, but they’ve at least been anti-consumer, and the fact that people don’t question that enough has led to them sometimes, making horrible mistakes. I am RepentantSky, I love making lists that trash on things that are popular, and these are 5 companies, that have too much hype around them.

5. Nintendo

Already I can hear people getting angry, and in a way I get it. Nintendo is for many people the place where they either begin to play games, or the place they go to keep on playing them when everything else let’s them down, and of course, they put an end to the flipping video game crash of 1983, and no one else will ever be able to claim that from them. That’s all wonderful, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be critical of them. I’ve talked about a number of things they’ve done wrong before, so let me quickly run down the list of some of their anti-consumer practices. They, charge too much for remasters and ports, they don’t drop prices in games, they used to charge for fixing Joy-Cons and now completely deny it’s a problem for legal reasons, despite everyone pretty much having experienced drift, they haven’t been good at getting stock for their items in at least 20 years, and oh yeah, they sell all the content for a remake for $115 on the 3DS, the system and the fans that helped them get by while the Wii U was massively underperforming, all while handing owners of the, at the time, unproven Switch, free content. Nintendo has a tendency to still think like a toy company, and they even used that idea to present the Nintendo Entertainment System as a toy instead of a console when they first game to the West with it, but they aren’t a toy company, their a gaming company that also sells toys, just like everyone else. I get they’ve done amazing things, I own over 150 physical handheld games from them, and a ton of digital games besides, but when they start charging twice what they are worth for SD cards, while releasing games that absolutely won’t fit on the limited space of the Switch, and they simply don’t care when costumers complain, it’s time to at least question their motives.  

4. Bethesda

Boy I used to really rip on this company back when I posted lists on Facebook, but I haven’t done it in a while, so let’s do it again. Bethesda has absolutely spent at least the last 10 years lying to people, Todd Howard, has become famous for it, but I think I might have been the only person who wasn’t shocked when Fallout 76 was the disaster that it was. There were so many things wrong with that game, that I don’t even have time to go over every little thing, but lying, you know the thing that will get another company on this list very soon, was a big thing they did with the game. They promised at one point that they weren’t ever going to charge for items in the game that gave in-game benefits, and they did, allowing ammo and other items to be bought with real money for a time, they promised new, specialized servers if you paid for a yearly service that was way too expensive, and that wasn’t true because people found proof of things missing from what would have been a freshly made, private server, and there’s no excuse for that, games in early access do that correctly, and they aren’t, at least supposedly, even finished yet. I wish I could say that’s all they’ve done, but they also bullied an indie developer over their game Prey, a game they may have bullied the original developer for so they could get cheaper, but we’ll never know because they refused to comment on that when asked, they also refused to update their outdated game engine for years, which caused something they spent over a decade fixing, games releasing with glitches, some of them game breaking. Yet somehow, they have such a fan base that those who love their games will claim the glitches are just part of the charm. That kind of fierce loyalty led to Fallout 76, and even though we make jokes about it even now, the horse DLC from way back in the day, was an indication of everything they’ve done, including trying to charge for mods made for free, meant to be consumed for free, twice. Bethesda is a bad company and they do not care. 

3. Activision/Blizzard

You know one of the worst things Nintendo does that I didn’t really mention directly in the first entry, is limit the amount of time a product is available, instead of just letting it be there for consumption as long as it’s selling (that was what the toy company reference was about if it wasn’t clear). However, Activision/Blizzard are the Kings of doing this, as they not only limited things while they were in control of Destiny 2 to the point where you pretty much had to use real money to get everything, and never mind everything else they did to it, because we’d be here all day going through it all, but they also don’t support games as a service titles long enough for dedicated fans. Crash Team Racing Nitro fueled, is a prime example of this. People weren’t done with that game, and when fans thought for even a split second that an update was going to come to fix an issue, their hype (mine to) was so explosive, it was almost like we were getting a new game, but then nothing happened, because they didn’t care. A lot of companies that do yearly release titles as a service have this problem and nothing exemplified that more for Activision, than Skylanders, a series originally made off the back of Spyro, who didn’t even wait for a year to release new games, as technically between October 21st and November 20th of the year the first game came out, they released three of them, and I’m not even kidding. Two of them, were mobile games! You might have thought I was going to go after Call of Duty, for this, but that horse has been beaten to ground, somehow, more than Skylanders was. They also, for whatever reason, released each expansion on different generations console generations, at different months throughout Fall, like somehow the season of Fall, they needed a release every month, if not two, and so off they went. I didn’t even get into Blizzard, but all I need to say is “Blitzchung” and all the memories will likely come flooding back. There’s also the fact that in two separate years, after gaining massive profits, they dropped hundreds of employees, and hired more than they’d let go, but I guess that doesn’t really matter to some of you, because when they did it this year, with so little warning, most employees found out via the news articles about it, but we all made such a little stink this time around, it didn’t create any media buzz, so I guess that doesn’t matter, you’d all rather play flipping World of Warcraft, like better MMO’s don’t exist. 

2. CD Projekt Red

I know this one comes off a little more fresh in the mind, and they technically only lied about one game, but man, what a series of lies it was. Also, let’s be honest, one major game, does not a great developer always make. CDPR’s previous two Witcher games did exactly what the author of the books thought they would, and that was almost nothing in terms of making a serious impact, and the reason is, they are kind of bad. They aren’t the worst games out there, but there is a good reason why The Witcher 1 and 2 haven’t been ported and/or remastered, despite how important they are to the story of Witcher 3, and that’s because they both suck. Cyperpunk 2077, was in a lot of ways, them just going back to being the developer they were before, the BIG ONE happened. They lied about nearly everything in regards to the game, including how the main platforms where consumers were going to buy it, were actually running well. I made those references to Witcher 1 and  2 for a reason, although if I’m being honest, they actually look better than Cyberpunk did on day 0, and that’s completely unacceptable. The budget for CDPR was basically nothing for Witcher 1 and 2 combined to what Cyberpunk got, but they were so focused on the PC versions because PC ran the game better, somehow (like maybe because they didn’t try with consoles) and they missed glitches that were so bad, the game felt like it was still in beta, if not alpha upon release. The fact that they’ve only released eleven games in twenty-three years, and only two of them didn’t have The Witcher on them, should have told us all we need to know, and yet the game, even after returns, which was another massive screw-job that led to Cyberpunk being removed from the PlayStation store, still sold Sixteen million units, all because of hype, and because apparently, some people don’t care if they’re lied to. Do you want to know what the other game they released is besides a Witcher title? It was flipping Saints Row 2, a fun game, but also one that’s too goofy for it’s own good, and yet suddenly makes Cyberpunk’s release, make sense, because it was all a massive joke, and a parody of good, well running, open world games. CDPR needs to seriously do something, anything different, and never release a game in this poor of a state ever again.

1. Ubisoft

I put Ubisoft at number one for a damn good reason, and that reason is, that everyone seems to hate the company, but loves their games, and I don’t know why. They haven’t been the overall worst company on this list, although they are pretty bad, but the major problem they have, and have had for at least a decade is that none of their games have any identity, they are literally all the same game, with different coats of paint. Sure, an occasional gem sneaks through like Assassin’s Creed IV, but all of the rest of their games have the same visual style (although ACII does seem to be the base for which they create their art let’s be honest), the shooting mechanics they have in all the games that have guns, all feel exactly the same, which is something even Call of Duty manages to avoid most years (guess I took a shot at them anyways) and yet somehow, someway, I keep seeing people getting excited for their releases, and it doesn’t make any sense. Sure, they throw a celebrity actor in from time to time, and the artistic style they use does look pretty cool, but everything is always the same with them, every single time, no matter what it is, and they still keep making money. It doesn’t really make sense either, because a lot of developers do make games that are very similar feeling, see the Life is Strange team or much as well all loved them, Telltale Games, but at least those titles told extremely interesting stories, and developed their mechanics at least a little, which is something most companies do just on principal, but not Ubisoft. They throw out a few Tom Clancy games every time they talk about what their releasing, the Trials and AC games are still mostly a yearly experience, and I’ll say it again, their entire list of releases since at least 2013, the year the previous generation kicked off, have pretty much all been the same. It would be nice if they made more games like Child of Light, but despite the fact that their games will likely never be as popular as Call of Duty, they keep churning out same-y shooters hoping that one day, maybe just one day, they’ll create their own CoD, and it’s just not gonna happen. The saddest part of all is that when they announce something different, something fans have wanted for years, we get The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time Remake, which was literally delayed because fans said they wouldn’t buy it unless some actual effort was put into making it, why is this company so popular that it can keep doing this, someone please explain it to me. 

And that’s my list, can you think of any other companies that are too hyped? Let me know in the notes below, hit me up with a follow if you like my content, and give me a reblog, I’d really appreciate it. Have a wonderful life!  

#ubisoft #activision #blizzard #cdpr #CD Projekt RED #bethesda #nintendo #nintendo 3ds #3DS #nintendo switch #witcher 3 #witcher #prince of persia #skylanders spyro #spyro the dragon #spyro reignited trilogy #crash team racing #nitro fueled #destiny #destiny 2 #cyberpunk 2077 #saints row #toys #Joycon #child of light #Entertainment #top 5 #lists #hype

[ispyaespa]

aespa Spy Chatbot

This chatbot does not represent aespa, SM Entertainment, or its respective members! Backstories, spy theming, and characteristics are fictional. Inspired by this graphic.

With an influx of crime, disaster, and sketchy individuals, a secret branch of secret intelligence relies on four young women to handle these cases without disturbing the peace. 

“They’re spies? But they’re too pretty and bright eyed to be spies!”

Appearances are deceiving, and that’s another reason why they’re the best people for the job. 

Rules

This chatbot will contain themes of spy lifestyle, hacking, interrogation, weapon combat, and tragic backstories with mention of cyberbullying, bullying, cheating, and attempted sexual harassment. Please do not interact with this chatbot if these themes disturb or upset you.  

Admin is 21+. While the ladies are all of legal age, I am not comfortable writing NSFW for them at this time. Do not push or ask to write NSFW with them. I will block anyone who tries to suggest or force it. 

I will interact with Y/Ns and chatbots. This includes chats and questions you may have for the ladies. 

In terms of relationships, the ladies are open to friendships, professional work-related ones, spy/rescued parties, target, and romantic ones. The latter can include kissing, hugs, hand-holding, and cuddles if the ladies get to know you better. 

You may choose to interact with 1 member or 2. In the form below, please specify which one(s) you wish to interact with. The other members may be mentioned as non-playable characters (NPC) in the thread, as they all work together. 

Please try to put some effort in writing. I do not want to carry the thread if you are giving one word or one sentence replies. 

Restricted

NSFW for now is not permitted. In addition, if the ladies partake in any of the themed days, it’s likely they are showing off outfits or gear for their missions. (Or they might joke about the days, like posting drinks on Thirst Thursday.)

Non-con, dub-con, rape, aggressive flirting (ex. Insisting they should hang out with you alone or pinning them against a wall), weapon play, S&M (pain/injury play), and dom/sub themes are not allowed. 

If you wish to have a romantic plot with one of the ladies, I will ask that you are 18+. No exceptions. 

No hate or bullying will be tolerated. I will report you. (If you don’t like the theme or the ladies, it’s easy to avoid the chatbot.)

Bios

Giselle 

Ningning 

Karina 

Winter

Plots

1# You’re a rookie recruit to the aespa branch of secret intelligence. You’re assigned to one of the best agents in their respective field. “It’s a little intense at times, but remember to breathe and you’ll do just fine.”

2# For some reason, a bad guy decided to make you the target for their latest crime. Unbeknownst to you, the girl who transferred to your university class/joined your job has been assigned to protect you from harm. 

3# You’ve come on the radar of the aespa branch and the ladies are assigned to monitor your moves. Are you a threat? Will they need to put an end to your activities and possibly you?

4# Custom! Let me know if you have a custom plot in mind and we’ll discuss it before starting!

Activation

To activate, please reblog the Rules post, and IM us the form:

Name: Age: Pronouns: Member(s): Plot:  Other: (Any other information we should know about you)

Deactivation

Send them “Mission Complete” and they’ll end the chat. Unfortunately you cannot get them back, as the branch will have changed their numbers/contact information and moved on to new missions.

Other

This is a side blog – I’m unable to follow other blogs through this account. 

Admin has a job and tries to fit chatting in when she has time. Please be patient. 

If you choose a plot where you do not work for the organization that the girls are a part of, they will give aliases and false backstories to fit in. It will be rare if they share their codenames with you.

If I do not hear from you in 72 hours, I will follow up with a gentle nudge/reminder. No response means that you no longer wish to interact and I will close the thread. 

Threads can be placed on hold if you wish. Please let me know so I can make a note. 

Founder: @yanlee and @/yanderechrisbang

Possible Targets: @vampiremomo @your-seunghun @fairy-yeji @yoursjennie @hanjisung-bot @pink-baby-sungie @deadlysinslust-chan @3racha-cb @serialkiller-skz @supernaturalateez @yanderehongjoongie @vamp-minho @vampirechangbinnie @yourgirl-cb @hhmchris @badboy-bangchan @streetracer-jennie @blue-chaeyoung @mafia-chaeyoung @hunter-chaeyoung @yanderetzuyu @softboijisung @lixielee-chatbot @mafiafelixlee @serialkiller-ateez @incubushyunjin @loverh @hybridtwice @leemafia @nvrendngstry @doll-soobin @doll-seungmin @twilightyeonjun @dandyboyseungminie @skzhybrids-cb @softiehyunjinie​ @daddysm​ @domyukhei​ @empressyuqi​ @emperorhoseok​ @cupid-channie​ @moonlightchris​ @floristluda​  @scholar-lia​ @academia-jaehyun​ @demon-lee​ @dxaddy-hxyunjin​

#aespa chatbot #k-pop chatbot #sm gg chatbot #[ DETECTED: Promo ]