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#anyway what is the internet if not a place to make people listen to me talk about my hyperfixations

uncle-fruity · 1 year

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HEY! HEY, YOU! YEAH! YOU!

Have you ever heard the phrase, "Your friends aren't your therapists"?

If you've been on the internet enough, I think it's a sentiment that's pretty difficult to miss.

But you know what that means, right?

It's meant to warn people not to place too much personal baggage onto their friends when they should be unpacking it with a professional. It's to say that venting to your friends shouldn't be your main source of coping. That is to say: most of your friends are probably unqualified to untangle complex emotional & mental health problems, and if you expect them to endlessly listen to your problems & have them help "fix" you, then that's usually going to end up in stress and tension in your relationship (or worse).

Do you know what "Your friends aren't your therapists" DOESN'T mean?

It DOESN'T mean that you shouldn't ever seek any emotional support from your friends or that you should keep all your problems to yourself.

Yes, it's important to establish boundaries in all your relationships. If there's something you'd rather not hear from your friends (and vice versa) that should be talked about if it ever becomes relevant. If your friend is easily overwhelmed by a lot of emotion/stimulus, then you shouldn't dump serious emotional things without checking in to see if it's okay first. Over time, in a healthy communicative relationship, you get a feel for what's okay and what's not.

But goodness fucking me when I see folks say that they don't deserve to express their harder emotions because "friends aren't your therapists" I just... I mean woof y'all!

What kind of friend is a friend that doesn't care if you're upset? What kind of friend sees you struggling with something and tells you to deal with your own problems because they don't owe you anything? What kind of friend comes around only if you hide your pain at all times?

A fair-weather friend, that's what kind. A friend that's only around for the good times, and goes away during (metaphorical) storms.

If someone only wants to be a fair-weather friend, that's their prerogative. But I'm telling you all that you deserve the kind of friendship where your friends actually give a fuck about you. You deserve to take up space sometimes. You deserve to get heavy things off your chest with someone you love and trust.

If you want better, stronger, healthier friendships, it's important to understand that intimacy is about Knowing and Seeing and Experiencing someone authentically. Taking off whatever mask we wear to get through the world and being ourselves and sharing that with another person. Anger, pain, grief... tackling these issues with each other builds trust and intimacy and makes everyone involved feel more important & needed & cared about. Isn't that what all this is for?

Anyway, this is all to say: be open about your emotions. Communicate with your friends (& tbh in all your relationships). Learn each other's boundaries, but don't shut each other out just because emotions are scary to navigate at times.

Please be kinder to yourself. Seek intimate friendships, AND seek professional help when you need more support than your friends can provide. Just don't assume your friends can't give you any support! Assume that they love you and trust that they will tell you if they're at their limit. And if they *are* at their limit or if they just aren't comfortable with some conversations, respect that & don't try to force it onto them.

This has been a PSA. Thank you.

#psa #therapy #friendship #relationships #mental health

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 11 months

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Hello from the other side of the world. Could you share a little about hiraeth? It's okay if not, I know you said it was hard to explain, but I'm guessing the Wikipedia article is, ah, very simplistic.

What was the feeling that made it silent like a church? Introspection? Was it because of the specific music of tha song, or is the subject of hiraeth always this impactful?

Sorry if this is dumb or insensitive or something, I really know next to nothing about Welsh culture (my country wasn't even invaded by the British Empire, if you can believe it), but that part of the story really stood out to me, and the way you explained it so casually to your friend and he seems to have just understood makes me feel like I'm missing a very big piece of context.

Anyway, thanks for sharing your adventures and shenanigans with us, and it's okay if this is too complicated for right now.

The number of places Britain didn't try to colonise is so low that makes you a unicorn, I think. Congrats!

Happy to explain though, no worries. Part of it is the song itself, which is worth a listen to get the vibe; I do mean a bit of a hush fell over the moderately busy restaurant. It's got hella vibes.

But yes, hiraeth is a very important concept in Welsh. The best translation is 'homesickness', or maybe 'yearning', but it's more complex and nuanced than that. Sort of hard to explain. I've seen it used to describe the urge Welsh people get, when they've been away from Wales for too long, to reconnect; to journey back and climb a mountain and look down into the valley and let your soul heal. I've seen it described as the feeling of bone-deep belonging, the sense of coming home that some people feel who visit Wales for the first time, and find it speaks to them. The land reaching out for the soul, the mountains into the mind. That's hiraeth.

(There's a poem that turns up on Welsh tourist tea towels a lot, no idea where from, but it sums it up as: "To be born Welsh is to be born privileged. Not with a silver spoon in your mouth, but with music in your blood and poetry in your soul.")

I've also seen it described in internet memes as "longing for a home you can never return to", which in typical Anglophone fashion, is almost right while fundamentally misunderstanding and stripping away the most important part. Because it's the longing for a Wales we can never return to. The version of our past, without English occupation, that can never exist again. Thanks to Wales having had a fairly complex cultural and historical makeup, we were not unified as a single country until after English occupation; plenty of unified elements existed before that (uniting under a dragon to drive out the invading Saxons, for example), but not what in the modern day we'd understand as a country. But we ARE a country now; so it's a sort of shared dream. The country we could have been, should have been, can never be. The lost version of us.

That's hiraeth. It's all hiraeth. And it's all specifically Wales.

#asks #wales!#closed for cleaning on mondays #hope that makes sense it's hard to convey

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astro-royale · 5 months

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How to “make it” when you live in a toxic environment

‼️Disclaimer: This is my personal opinion based on what has helped me and is by no means professional advice. Please take what resonates according to your situation.

1. Drop your expectations. People who have shown you consistently that they don’t care will not change.You need to preserve as much energy as you can for yourself and your goals. Stop setting yourself up for disappointment. Yes, it’s sad. Do the shadow work and don’t tell people things YOU KNOW they will react negatively to.

2. Don’t expect people to be happy for you or support you. Move in silence. People’s subconscious fears will be projected onto you and your goals, why do you need those curses placed upon you when you have so much to deal with anyway.

3. Take what you can get. Accept whatever help you can receive that you know will have no repercussions. Sometimes people can help you with some things and not others.

4. Shift all your efforts towards being able to leave that environment. Do research on how you can expand your finances, and that may mean doing something out of your comfort zone such as creating a social media platform etc. Never compromise on your well being however.

5. You need to believe in yourself as much as you can, even if people won’t.

6. Take advantage of the free help and advice on the internet. Can’t afford something? Well you have time more than money at the moment so use it to research. That research can be used as an asset to help you now and maybe later it can be the reason you start a particular business or are inspired to help people.

7. BE SOLUTION ORIENTED. focusing on problems only creates more problems. You’re going to have to try over and over again in life. Focusing on what’s wrong all the time will not allow you to step outside of the box and see things from a detached point of view where you can actually see a solution.

8. Prayer. I cannot stress this enough. Prayer has caused miracles in my life. Rely on God/Universe whatever you resonate with as much as you can. Your connection to yourself and your higher power is something you always have access to and if you believe and have faith even in times of darkness your high vibration will cause the ripple effect you’re looking for and problems will be solved. I recommend praying and setting up an intention every morning and night.

9. Even if you’re in survival mode 90% of the time. That 10% you spend meditating and praying. Even a little 10 minute meditation, if you can do it and have that time to be in complete surrender and serenity it will still make a difference. It’s not about how much time is spent on something but rather the quality of that. Allow that 10 minutes to be sacred, profound.

10. Ask for all the help you can get from where you know you can. you may get turned down, life is about risks. But always keep going.

11. Create time if you don’t have it. Give something up in order to gain something else. You may need to compromise on something for the time being to be able to create a prominent change/shift in your life. But make sure it is something that won’t affect your health and well being. Example; less time watching tv, more time spent on cultivating faith

12. Be very consistent in your efforts. Consistency towards something is what creates that energetic momentum which will eventually lead to a manifestation.

13. Daily affirmations and listening to affirmations when you sleep is also a great method to reprogram your subconscious and set you up for success. Again, so many free resources out there you can use, you just have to consciously use your will power and pray to receive the strength you need so you can push through.

I’ve linked my energy healing playlist as well as another energy clearing I listen to. I will also be posting more energy healings , always listen with the intention to receive. You don’t even need to pay attention when listening to those.

The meditation I linked says “love meditation” but I’ve used it to manifest other things and I’ve received answer to my prayers immediately.

I hope this helps and I’m sending much love to everyone needing this.

youtube

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formosusiniquis · 3 months

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Am I the Asshole?

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington; Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s); Steve Harrington/Original Character(s); Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 6052 | Rated: T | Tags: Modern AU, Reddit AU, Some AITA typical terrible people, QPR Steve & Robin, NB Steve, NB Robin AKA the Stobin AITA fic

r/AmITheAssshole u/HufflepuffHero94 9yrs ago AITA for being concerned about my girlfriends living situation?

Context: My (20F) girlfriend (18F) is amazing. She's a polyglot linguistics major, speaks three languages fluently and she's completely self-taught, a genius basically. We go to the same college (Midwestern Liberal Arts college) where we met in the marching band. Now R, my girlfriend, is from a small town. Like the kind of small town that they make jokes about in sitcoms, she isn't really online (so I'm not worried about her seeing this) because she claims they didn't even have the internet until she was in high school. She isn’t really “out” because of this. It’s like she lives in this semi-closeted space like some kind of TV queerbait character. It's not really a problem, I mean she’ll tell people we’re dating if they ask and all of our marching band friends know but when I ask about it she says it’s because it wasn’t really safe in her hometown growing up. But it’s 2014 not 1980…

Even though R is a freshman she’s in special accommodations. Instead of living in the dorms like the school usually requires she’s got a small, studio apartment just off of campus. A perk considering how awful living in the dorms is. R is a pretty private person and super studious. Most of our dates have been in the library or a study date at the coffee place on campus. She’s not big on PDA, she says she’s trying to get better at it but she’s still only sort of out and I’m her first real girlfriend. I was psyched when she asked me if I wanted to go with her to her apartment to study, said her best friend had a never fail study method that she was eager to try (and when she told me what it was I was pretty eager too).

R can’t drive, so when I pull into the parking lot of her complex she notices something and says her roommate hasn’t left for work yet. I’m a little confused because like I said she lives in a studio apartment, but she just brushes it off and says something about asshole parents and this being what they could afford when some money fell through. She’s sent me snaps from her place, so I know it’s pretty cozy so I tell her it’s fine. Obviously I’m concerned about what the set up is going to be like when we get up there but she insists that dingus (her words) will only be there for another couple minutes before they have to leave for work and that Stevie (again her words) is her best friend in the world. They moved here together from the same small town or something.

To give R credit, she’s definitely done the best she can with the space. When I walked it it definitely felt as homey as it does in her pictures. The door opened up into the kitchen and living room and she’s got those spaces divided off from the beds with one of those Chinese paper divider thingies. Anyway to make a long story short it turns out her roommate and best friend Stevie is actually a whole dude (19). He comes out, gives her a look and asks her if “us girls are planning a sleepover” and if he should make himself scarce for the evening. R says she doesn’t give him shit when his “special friends” come over and after that I kinda stopped listening. I slipped off into the apartment looking for the bathroom and that’s when I saw how their “bedroom” was set up. Twin beds INCHES apart, they might as well be sharing the same one.

Here’s where I might be the asshole. When her “friend” finally cleared out I told her the truth. I didn’t know how comfortable I was hanging out in her place where she lives with a guy. I do live in the dorms but I’ve got a single right now. I asked her to move in with me so she wouldn’t have to be in this situation. I guess it maybe sounded like I was dissing her friend, which I was but I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just think it’s weird that she won’t come out to anyone and is also living with some guy! I told her I wasn’t interested in being an experiment and if things were serious then she would want to move in with me.

That’s when she kicked me out and called me an asshole. But really I don’t think I’m being a dick for being concerned that she might just be jerking me along while she plays lesbian so she can tell her boyfriend about it at home. Even if nothing is going on I'm just worried that living in this kind of environment isn't safe for her. I mean this guy is probably just pretending to be her friend to get in her pants, I think the fact that they're from the same small town means she can't see that. I really think she would be better off if she moved into the dorms with me aita?

u/otpsnotbrotps NTA

u/foreplayisntreal NTA guys and girls can't be friends. If she even is a lez and a katy perry wannabe then roomie is just biding his time til she's ready to be converted

Read the rest on AO3

#stobin month 2024 #day 10 modern #steve and robin #platonic stobin #it's still day 10 somewhere shhh i know it's late #minor steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #my fic #stobin fic #stranger things fic

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twig-tea · 3 months

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TsukuTabe S2 Is Perfection

I’ve been waffling about what to write about Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna s2, which completed last week (and which we have access to at all thanks to the hard work of @furritsubs). I have had to just give up on getting across how much this show means to me; there's no way I'll be able to communicate these feelings with words. Season 1 was excellent but Season 2 was everything I wanted and more that I didn't know I needed. This is going to be more disjointed than usual because I don't know how to be coherent about this show (and because tumblr ate my first two attempts).

At its core, Tsukuritai Onna to Tabtetai Onna asks what if we were all just a little bit more conscientious and kind to one another? What if women were given space to be themselves and to make the choices that were best for them? This is the world of TsukuTabe, and I'm so grateful to have had the chance to inhabit it over these last four weeks.

I have so much love for the way Nomoto and Kasuga develop their relationship in conjunction with their relationships with the other women in their lives. Nagumo, Sayama, and Yako are integral to the success of Nomoto and Kasuga’s relationship, and they're also important relationships for the happiness of Nomoto and Kasuga in their own right. The found family vibes are immaculate.

The conflict between Kasuga and Nomoto this season was so perfectly them; the way they struggled with the transition from friends to lovers and being two people who are kind and giving in a relationship together and how that requires honesty and trust were both familiar conflicts that hit me hard in the feels.

Kasuga's conflict with her family also hit me really hard. I once did the wrong thing and showed up to support my family in caring for someone who abused me, and it was a horrible experience that was ruinous to my mental health and took years to get over (and in the end they had to find a different solution anyway, which they could have done in the first place). Watching Kasuga refuse to make a similar decision, standing strong in the face of the social pressures of her parents and her aunt was so healing for me. And then to have her decision affirmed by someone of her parent's age? I sobbed in those scenes.

I also loved the way this season handled Nagumo’s anxiety issues and how she was given space to decide to get professional help on her own time and terms. The way her parents tried to help was also very familiar to me and realistic, and it was just a little heartbreaking how they tried and didn't understand how their attempts at helping added pressure in a way that wasn't helpful.

The way this show covers this important beats in a person's life through these small, everyday moments, and in such a gentle way, is what I love so much about it. The show itself makes a safe space so that these subjects can come up and not feel overwhelming.

And it's also really important to me that all of the characters get to have these moments. Sakae not only reflects on her insensitivity and the unfairness of Japan not having marriage equality, but she also reflects on the pressures on her to marry and whether she actually wants that for herself. Fujita not only helps Kasuga gain proxy acceptance for her choices but gets the same back for herself around her decision to divorce. All of these women live in ways that invoke social stigma, and the way this show gives explicit permission to these women to live their best lives is both cathartic and critical.

I can't end this disjointed ramble without talking about the character I most identified with this season, Yako. Yako is an older, self-actualized asexual lesbian who makes friends with Nomoto on the Internet, recommends lesbian films to her, and mostly listens and affirms as Nomoto goes through her own process of discovering herself. I ran a GSA and have been on the Internet a long time, I've been in Yako’s position a lot (though I can only aspire to be as kind and wise). She is so patient and so genuinely happy for Nomoto when she and Kasuga get together, and she seems so quietly thrilled to have more wonderful people in her life willing to indulge her random party ideas. Her sharing a connection to a LGBTQ+-friendly real estate agency while being angry on their behalf that she even has to was perfection.

It's so important that these characters say the things they say aloud. I want to inscribe every sentence of this show into everyone's brains. This show is perfect, and lovely, and a warm bath, and a hug, and a cup of your favourite warm beverage perfectly fixed to your liking all in one. If you haven't done yourself the favour of watching yet, I highly recommend that you do so immediately.

[not an ID: Real footage of the entire audience's satisfaction and catharsis after watching TsukuTabe S2. Actual ID in alt text].

#tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #tsukutabe #gl meta #sapphic media #typed so that I can stop thinking it

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porcelana-r0ta · 1 year

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The Curse of Sight

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Time Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.

Word Count: 2690

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44788813

[Part 2]

When Wes Weston's parents divorced, they decided that he should stay with his dad in Amity Park. After all, small town Amity is much safer than big city Gotham, where his mother was moving in order to accept a promotion with Wayne Enterprises. Wes, in order to still see his mom, would visit her in Gotham every summer and every other holiday.

Of course, Amity soon became more dangerous than Gotham could even dream of thanks to the hell portal in the Fenton's basement that killed and bore Phantom, but whatever. No one ever listened to Wes anyway, and he learned to shut his mouth when Sam Manson shoved him against the lockers and asked him what he thought would happen to Danny Fenton if the Ghost Investigation Ward ever believed his “crazy as shit imagination.”

She was still playing the "Wes is crazy" game, even when defending her boyfriend.

Still, she was right. Danny was safer without him trying to convince Amity's negligent populace that Danny was Phantom. (Even if it absolutely drove him mad that no one but him was capable of making the connection between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom.) So he shut up. He deleted his conspiracy theory blog and even asked Tucker Foley to wipe all remnants of its existence from the internet, a request which his classmate happily obliged. He even said, "I'm glad you're moving on from this whole Fenton-Phantom obsession, Wes."

Professional gaslighters, the lot of them.

So yes, Wes had thoroughly given up on the superhero ID evidence schemes by the time he left to visit his mom after his freshman year of high school. He had made peace with it and settled back into reading mystery novels or movies and solving the case before the protagonists in place of proving Phantom’s ID.

When he came to Gotham, he had to get a new library card so he could keep up with his mystery novel hyperfixation. He happens to take just a little too long in the library, so by the time he has a nice stack of books to check out, it's dark outside.

Great, walking back to my mother's apartment in the dark in Gotham. Seems super safe.

Well, Gotham is no Amity, right?

So he marches on and tries not to be too resigned when he's inevitably yanked into an alleyway even though the apartment is only three blocks from the library.

Classic.

It's just a man with a gun, his face obscured with a hood and a red bandana. He's literally nothing compared to Pariah Dark or Undergrowth or Dr. Spectra or even the fucking Box Ghost.

"Let me guess," he says. "You want any cash I have, right?"

"Kid, shut the hell up and fork over your money," says the man, and Wes sighs. The mugger didn't even wave around his gun or give an impassioned speech about stealing someone's pelt.

"Original," Wes intones. "But I'm fifteen. And everyone knows young people don't carry cash anymore. I guess I could give you my mom's emergency credit card that she gave me, but she did say it was for emergencies only, so."

The man just stares at him. Wes shuffles uncomfortably.

"Oh! And I could just cancel the card before you use it," Wes adds into the silence.

"You don't consider being held at gunpoint an emergency?" the mugger finally asks, looking uncertain.

"Should I?" Wes wonders aloud. Sam had been much scarier when she threatened him.

"You said you're fifteen? And you don't have a Gothamite accent?" the man offers his reasoning, as if it's any kind of logical. He'd fit in well in Amity for that trait alone.

"Gothamites always think they're so superior." He has to roll his eyes. "Guns aren't that scary. You know what is scary? Your whole town being dragged into the dimension of death for three days. This is nothing. This city is nothing." You are nothing. He knows better than to say that last part, though;

"Christ, kid, you're crazy." The man shook his head and pulled the hammer of his gun back. "Just-- give me the watch you're wearing."

Wes sighs again, "Whatever, I'm not fighting for it." It was literally just a cheap Walmart watch. But just as he goes to unlatch the watch from his wrist, a caped vigilante swings down from the rooftops and kicks the mugger straight into the pavement.

The mugger doesn't get back up.

"Thanks, Red Robin," Wes dutifully says, even though he's pretty sure the man was A) not really that much of a threat, and B) going to have serious brain trauma now.

"It's no problem," the vigilante says. "You're a little young to be out this late, though."

Well, that's rude. It's only 7:00 pm. The only reason it's dark at all is thanks to Gotham's pollution problem. (Maybe they should let Poison Ivy just go fucking feral, like Sam suggests.)

Wes doesn't say that. Instead he says: "Didn't you start crime fighting when you were, like, twelve?"

Red Robin sputters, but Wes continues, "And the first Robin couldn't have been more than nine. I have never picked a fight with hardened criminals." Do ghosts count as criminals? Surely not. What right does Wes have to dictate the morals of being from a completely different dimension? "So I think I'm doing better than you in the safety department, no offense."

Well, doing better in Gotham. But the Justice League doesn't need to know about Amity Park, so he'll leave that part out.

"I-- just--" Red Robin struggles for a second, and then clears his throat. "Why don't I escort you home?"

"I'm two blocks away, but thanks. And thanks again for the---" he waves to the unconscious mugger. Definitely brain damaged.

"Yeah, no problem." And then he grapples away.

Phantom's much cooler. Not that he'll ever say that in front of Danny, Sam, or Tucker. Or anyone from Amity.

He makes it safely home, even if he does pretend to not notice the Bat stalking him from above. And of course, once he recounts his tale to his mother, she freaks out that he'd been nearly mugged, and tries to ban him from doing anything in Gotham at all.

"Mom, I can't just stay inside the house all day. I refuse to spend my whole summer on Netflix." He wants to at least go sightseeing.

Her mouth goes into a thin line and her eyes are as fiery as her red hair.

"Fine," she says. "Then you can get a job."

His stomach drops, "What?"

"A job. My floor needs a new intern, and I found just the perfect person."

"No, Mom, you can't," he pleads. "A Wayne Enterprises job? I'll be known as a nepo-baby for life!"

"Well, too bad. You should have thought of that before being mugged."

"Almost mugged, Mom! Almost! Red Robin was there!" When he sees that this point is getting him nowhere, he switches tactics, "Mom, the Waynes are held hostage, like, every other week! Do you really want me in closer proximity to them?"

She lifts her chin and sniffs, "I'll be there to watch out for you. And an intern won't have any reason to be next to a Wayne, anyway."

He groans, "Mom, please. It's my summer vacation!"

"And you're my son. Discussion over. You start in two days."

He groans again, "Do I at least get paid? Or is Brucie Wayne like every other rich white dude out there?"

"Wes, sweetie, you're white--"

"But not rich," he grumbles.

"But yes, you'll be paid. Every position with Wayne Enterprises is paid."

He crosses his arms, "At least there's that, I guess."

His mom walks to him to hug him and kiss his forehead.

"I'll handle the paperwork tomorrow. Don't worry, you'll love it there!"

Well, spoiler alert: he doesn't.

He's basically a go-fer, fetching paper or ink or photos or files and most usually, lunch from across the street or donuts or coffee. Especially coffee. And his mom's coworkers kinda suck because hey, the Wayne's executive PR manager just hired her own kid for a coveted Wayne internship. No one likes the idea of someone being here who doesn't deserve it. So he is really sent on the most stupid, tedious errands possible for an intern.

He called it: he's the resident nepo-baby, beaten only by Brucie Wayne's very own brood of nepo-babies.

Suddenly, just letting that mugger fill him with hot lead doesn't look so bad. Maybe he would have become a ghost! Haunting Danny would have been fun. Or Ember and the others of her nature make it look fun, anyway.

The Fenton thermos part would probably be uncomfortable, though.

"This sucks," Wes mutters to himself, balancing three carrying cartons of Batbucks (Gotham's stupid parody of Starbucks since they have to be special and not like other girls in every aspect possible) coffee with just two arms, staring helplessly at the elevator call button in front of him.

"Need an assist?" calls a familiar voice, though Wes can't place from where.

"Yes, please!" Wes says gratefully, looking up at a face with blue eyes, black hair, and a familiar jawline.

Wait a second.

"Here, I'll get that for you," says the man, who is really more like a teenager, since it's goddamn Timothy Drake-Wayne, co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises at just seventeen years old. "Going up, I assume?" he gives a charming laugh as he presses the up button, the kind one practices to perfection to ace media interviews and entertain the wealthy elite at galas.

"Yes, thank you, sir," Wes says, and takes the time to really study Drake-Wayne's eyes. And sure enough, he can recognize makeup covering up purple eyebags, just like he could on Fenton.

No. Please, Lord, I'll go back to church. Just don't let it be true.

"Yeah, no problem!" Drake-Wayne says, which really just seals the deal. Wes quietly dies inside, and also curses God. "I'm glad to be of service! Interns doing coffee runs really are doing God's work. And there's no need to call me sir. Tim will do just fine."

"Right... Tim," Wes says uncertainly. He kind of wants the elevator doors to open up and reveal a pitch black hole to drop into, but when the bell rings and the doors slide open, it's just the same ol' regular elevator it's always been. Damn.

So. The boss of this whole entire company is Red Robin. Makes sense, seems legit. He figured out that Plasmius was the mayor of Amity, too, didn't he? So why shouldn't all billionaires be playing dress up and fight crime or be the crime? What's stopping them all, really, when wealth is a superpower all on its own?

Wait, fuck. So. If Tim started out as a Robin when he was twelve-ish. And apparently billionaires are playing dress up. Then doesn't that mean...?

Oh, God. Couldn't he go one season without figuring out some superpowered person's secret identity? Is that too much to ask?

And of course, after figuring Tim and goddamn Brucie Wayne out, it's not so hard to see the correlations between the introduction of every other Wayne brat to the debut of each Robin.

He shakily steps into the elevator, "And how do you normally take your coffee?"

"With the maximum amount of espresso the barista can legally give me," is Tim's immediate answer.

Just like Danny.

And even worse, Tim steps into the elevator after him.

"What floor?" he asks, and Wes feels stupid. Obviously he was going to come in: why offer help at all if he wasn't going to push the floor button for Wes?"

"Uh, 73," Wes says.

Tim nods and presses the according number, and then takes one of the cartons from Wes as the doors closed.

Hopefully, any nerves that Wes is showing can be played off as the nerves an intern would get when they somehow get stuck with the Actual Big Boss™ , and then said Boss™ tries to take the shit they're carrying.

"Uh, you don't have to do that," Wes says nervously. "I can carry them all, really!"

"Don't be silly," the literal co-CEO of his workplace says, as if Wes is in some fucked up Wattpad fic. "Again, where would any of us be without the ones who bring us coffee?"

"In bed?" Wes offers nervously. "Sleeping?"

Tim laughs, but his smile looks more like a smirk, "I guess you're right!"

"But seriously, I can carry the coffee. It's my job. And it'll look weird to everyone if they see the CEO helping me do my job."

"It's no trouble!" Tim insists, and then emphasizes his point by stealing the second carton in Wes's hands. "See? And my employees will be glad to see that I value every employee and am always willing to help out!"

Haha yeah, thought Wes. Too bad they'll never know just how much you help out, right?

Finally, the elevator dings, and Wes is released from one prison to another.

Thanks to the normal chaos of working at Wayne Enterprises, no one immediately notices that the co-CEO is carrying the bulk of the load. Instead, they all hone in on the scent of coffee, and they lunge.

"Thanks, Weston!" the few who are clear-minded enough to remember manners manage to say, even as most of them take their orders from a black haired wunderkind instead of a redheaded conspiracy theorist with the curse of Cassandra.

"Of course," Wes says nervously, and then finally some recognition starts sparking in the coffee-hungry eyes of exhausted PR employees who are always trying to handle some wacky Wayne hijinks.

"You're Weston," says his mom's assistant, Jade, pointing at Wes, and then slowly pointing to Tim, "and you're.... Oh, Mr. Drake-Wayne! Here, let me get that for you!" She yanks the empty cartons out of Tim's hands and shoved them into Wes's. Luckily, his carrying carton had been emptied, too, so he doesn’t get coffee spilled all over him and the floor. "Here, Weston, go dispose of these! Why were you making Mr. Drake-Wayne carry them? It's your job to get coffee, not our CEO's! He has better things to do. In fact, he probably needs to speak to Ms. Rolland."

Ms. Rolland as in his mother, who went back to her maiden name after the divorce.

"Now hold on," says Tim, his eyes alight with anger. "I offered to help Weston out, and I have no need to speak with Penny. I was just helping out one of my employees."

"Oh," says Jade, taking a step back. "Of- of course, sir! Weston, here, I'll take these cartons back. And sir, it's very kind of you to help out."

"I try," Tim says dryly. Wes notices he doesn't tell Jade to not call him sir. "You should probably get back to work."

"Of course, sir." And with the cartons in her hands, she scurries off in the direction of his mom's office, where she'll probably complain about how her kid made Jade look like a fool in front of the Actual Big Boss™.

"Uh, thanks," he tells Tim. "But you really didn't have to help me. It is my job, after all." Unwilling or not.

"It's no problem!" Tim repeats, and Wes wants to bang his head into a wall. "And hey, next time you do a coffee run, forget the others and just grab my order." His words are accompanied by a wink, and Wes is pretty sure it's supposed to be weird rich people humor, so he laughs, and pretends his heart isn’t beating into his ears.

"As much espresso as possible," he plays along, and Tim grins, pressing the call button for the elevator. It hasn't been summoned to another floor, so it opens right back up.

"Have a good day, Weston."

"It's just Wes, really," he corrects, and Tim smiles again.

"Wes," he says, and the elevator doors slide shut.

Cool cool cool. So now he just has to survive two months in Gotham while knowing the entire Batclan’s secret identities.

Cool cool cool cool cool cool....

#idk what this is it just spawned out of me #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp fic #danny phantom x dc #danny phantom #dc #batman #red robin dc #tim drake #wes weston #wesley weston #is this wes weston x tim drake?#you decide!#one shot

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ohisms · 2 years

Text

↪ 𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑾𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 . ( a series of sentence starters from season 5 of syfy’s “ warehouse 13 ” . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

nothing to worry about on this end .

keep me posted .

i’ve got another idea .

wait , wait , wait . . .

i’m not a total idiot .

look , [ name ] , that’s not what matters right now .

drive . okay ? just . . . drive fast .

of all the illegal things i’ve done , this is probably the least illegal .

we are not talking about that !

are you kidding me ?!

i’m gonna need another pair of hands .

i’ve got a plan i’m absolutely certain will work .

not cool ! not cool !

oh my god , what a great idea , [ name ] ! wish i’d thought of that !

i’ll explain later .

[ name ] , what just happened ?

i want him dead .

i just think we should make an informed decision .

heartbreaking , isn’t it ? when someone you loved and thought you knew turns out to be someone else ?

the question is ; are you with me , or are you against me ?

hey ! what’d you do that for ?

there goes our element of surprise .

you have no idea what you’re giving up .

so , sue me . i didn’t want you to die .

stop staring at me !

this way i can keep an eye on you .

patience , and all will be revealed .

follow my instructions for a change .

are you busy tonight ?

i will cut you .

now if you’ll excuse me , i have to get ready .

do you want to tell me the truth , this time ?

i don’t need you to protect me .

should i ignore the fact that that sounds insane ?

you’re lying , it makes no sense .

i haven’t hurt anyone .

there’s no way i’m leaving you like this .

you have been lying to me .

i haven’t forgotten about [ name ] .

a little bit dramatic , don’t you think ?

okay , your life is worse . congrats .

there’s no need to close that door forever .

can we stop talking about this and just get back to work ?

how about we just start with this ?

hopefully you’ll understand why i did what i did .

i told you i’d be back .

despite everything [ name ] told you , you’re here anyways .

life is shorter than you ever think .

i think a little danger is worth it , don’t you ?

please note that i didn’t say anything about how dangerous that would be .

you take one hand , i’ll take the other ?

what’s so important ?

i’m not blaming you , i just wanna know what happened .

i don’t understand . where am i ?

listen , there was - there was a car accident .

no way , come on . i don’t believe you .

we’re gonna talk everything through from the very beginning .

i have the feeling this is gonna take awhile .

don’t worry about it . i’ll take care of [ name ] .

i didn’t have very much when i came here , so i guess i’m kind of trying to make up for that .

the internet’s still around ?

i gotta say , i’m really hating this . i just , nothing feels real .

i’m just gonna wake up and be me again .

this cannot be my life !

please stop saying it’s gonna be alright because it’s not !

i was in a mental institution .

not to outdo you , but crazy girl carries a lot more stigma .

my strongest memories of you have to do with that guitar .

oh , boo - hoo , what . is . the . plan ?

did you not hear me say very , very carefully ?!

this place is about as secure as a kiosk at the mall .

do not snap at me , okay ?

do you have any enemies ? anyone who might want to hurt you ?

am i doing all these things with my mind ?!

i haven’t cursed anyone in years .

weren’t you nervous to play in front of people ?

let’s just say i’m addicted to more than just coffee .

would you play for me ?

since you missed the concert , i thought we could have one of our own .

my keen sense of perception is giving me the impression that you are upset .

don’t partonize me , [ name ] .

look , why don’t we just quietly work together ?

it was an accident , i didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt .

i didn’t know it was gonna be dangerous .

no one’s gonna die ! okay ? we’re gonna fix this .

have you seen him ? i mean , really looked at him ?

when you really love someone , you want them to be happy . even if it isn’t with you .

talking down to me does not help !

i’m not talking down to you , i’m just talking you DOWN ... there’s a difference .

it’s this place , it’s a thousand things !

you SHOT me ?!

with clear eyes ... and a full heart , you can’t lose .

will you tell me everything that happened while i was sleeping ?

i’m so sorry , i know i should’ve told you sooner .

i remember , now . i remember everything .

i’m not gonna let you go back to that .

you’ve tried everything , haven’t you ?

if i only get one day , i am so , so glad i got this one .

i’m counting on you to fix all of this .

i’ll find a way . i promise .

what answer will make you stop asking ?

relax , i’m not here for you .

that’s why you’re yelling like your hair’s on fire ?

i hate being friends with you .

i want to punch things .

i’m on the verge of a major breakthrough !

fine , i’ll go . this better be snappy .

i called the police , they said i had to wait 24 hours .

#this has been at the bottom of my drafts #but i'll get to finishing the show and updating this soon <3 #rp meme #rp prompt #inbox meme #rp inbox meme #ohisms

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abacus-jpg · 6 days

Text

Anyone else not understand why people are moving to cara. Like I understand it’s because ai and shit,, but like. What confuses me is as long as your art is on the internet, aslong as you chose to post your art online anywhere, doesn’t matter where, it is prone to being stolen by ai. To me ai is nothing more then when people trace your art and call it their own. Ofc I don’t want people to do it, but ultimately that will not stop them. I do have a cara account, I was the first to claim abacus. When I tried posting there a few times I’ve been met with an error message, alongside that the app is really buggy and slow. I don’t see why people feel the need to come up with new apps to post art on when you could just use tumblr, but then the argument with tumblr is that there’s no engagement. But if we all flock to tumblr like people are flocking to cara then I don’t see why engagement would be such a big issue. Even then, if engagement is your main concern with your art I feel like you should reevaluate why you are pursuing art in the first place. I had this struggle ages ago where I didn’t feel my art was worth anything because I couldn’t cap 10 likes. But I realized, my art is for me. I’m the one that should be enjoying it, and my reason for posting now is for other people to enjoy it, so if they don’t,, I really don’t care all the much. I understand it is really detouring to post ocs and to have zero engagement, but that’s just the way art is. Unless you are producing fanart consistently of shit that is made into content farms, I really don’t see how you can garner a following just doing ocs. That’s why, doing art for your own sake is more important than trying to please everyone. I can guarantee there’s atleast one stranger on the internet that will fw your stuff the way you want. And the more you post, the more the number will grow. Most of the time it’s gradual, but one goes to two, two goes to three. And maybe you’ll only get one or two. But the important thing is, there’s someone. If you feel like you have no one, remember your art is for yourself. You’ll always have one, even if that is yourself. This might all seem contradictive. But trust, only you matter when it comes to your own artwork.

This “speech”, if you can call it that, isn’t to deter people from drawing and posting their ocs. This is just to say, engagement shouldn’t matter. As long as you’re happy, that’s all the matters. Post and draw what you want aslong as it’s not straight ripping from someone else. Idc.

This whole thing was supposed to be abt Cara but it turned into a uhh,, Ted talk of sorts. I’m not saying people shouldn’t use cara, if it works for them then by all means go for it. But personally I will not be making it my main form of social media. In my opinion, it’ll be like that other art app people were using for a week before they forgot abt it, I forget the name of it but I remember the interface was a light pink, similar to Instagram,, but somehow worse.

IM GONNA SPECIFY THAT I DONT CONDONE AI STEALING PEOPLES ART EITHER,, just putting that out there because some people have a way of misunderstanding or misinterpretating things. Which is okay!! Because some people genuinely get confused and that’s alright. But like please don’t use so first handedly. With that being said, I’m just a nobody on the internet so why would you listen to me,, you won’t. But i uhh,, am gonna put that there anyways

Thanks if you read allat,, idk why you would but that’s anyways I guess😭😭😭

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vctrvn-ls · 9 months

Text

I love you too? |Kenny|

summary: you and Kenny get into a heated argument after which you try and take the first step to make peace

warnings: angst, language

wordcount: 1.35k

"What the fuck is this?!" You heard Kenny call out from the living room.

"What!?" You shouted back, not thinking much of it, continuing to cut the watermelon for the fruit salad you were making. A series of footsteps quickly revealed Kenny who was glued to his phone with furrowed eyebrows.

"What?" You take a piece of watermelon and put it in your mouth "What is it?" You chew.

Kenny walks up to you shoving his phone up close to your face. You squint trying to see the image in front of you. It was you from yesterdays shoot, kissing Filly on the cheek as he smiled into the camera. Your eyes widened as you looked up at Kenny "And?"

"You- Look- Ah fuck," he goes back to his phone for a second before showing it again "Look at the caption."

You saw it was Twitter. Already not a good sign. And as you predicted, your mouth fell open as you finished reading the sentence:

"Damn. That's what happens when Kenny's not on the one shoot."

You look back up at Kenny and raise an eyebrow "What the hell are you doing listening to dumbass Twitter-people?" You go back to cutting the fruits, seeing as this wasn't a thing to worry about.

"This isn't the only one. That's firstly. Secondly there's rumors now that we're broken up and thirdly what the hell are you doing going around kissing other guys when you have a boyfriend?"

You were in so much shock that you had to put down your knife and lean on the counter, processing what the fuck had just been said to you.

"Fuck. You." You simply state. "That's to begin with. Also what the fuck Kenny!? It wasn't guys it was one and it's fucking Filly, now please for Christ sake tell me you're pranking me right now because you are not going to stand here and pretend like you're bothered by this." You look at him, trying to read him and his emotions, although it was quite clear that he was in fact mad.

"Yeah well they don't know that it's just Filly. And just because it's Filly, gives you no right to get all up in his face."

"Kenny you need to take a break." You chuckle dryly turning back to the cutting board.

"No the hell I don't," he pushes your shoulder, turning you around to face him.

"It's a few comments Kenny, for fucks sake just leave it alone!"

"Oh yeah? You know what else started as 'a few comments'? Hm? Our secret relationship."

You roll your eyes "We were going to reveal it anyways right?"

"I don't care."

"Ok? What am I supposed to do?"

"Definitely don't do THAT!" He held up his phone with the photo.

You cover your face with the palms of your hands and groan, still stunned that this was actually happening "Kenny its fucking Filly! You look so dumb right now I wish you knew!"

"I KNOW I LOOK DUMB! I LOOK DUMBER NOW!" He lashed out, voice booming through the whole house "It's all anyone fucking talks about. Oh Kenny's stupid. No one likes Kenny. Why is Kenny even here? Let's make an article about how everyone in the Squad hates Kenny." He mocked the comments from the internet. "Now fucking this? I just- I'm gonna- Ah fuck." He turns around and just leaves. This guy leaves! You hear him stomp up the stairs and slam your bedroom door, leaving you speechless.

You blink a few times still digesting the very emotional information that was thrown at you and decide to take a seat in the living room. You wanted to be mad, you really did, but there was just this one thing that really caught your attention. It was how focused he was on the internet's opinion, which with the jobs both of you had was a little alarming.

After a little more thinking you came to a conclusion that insecurity was what drove this whole thing in the first place. Understandable, you didn't blame him, but it was sad because how can such a special and amazing person be insecure?

It sounded absurd!

Especially with his talent, friends and status.

You felt bad for Kenny, and you could totally relate to his lack of confidence because everyone feels unsteady from time to time and with enough love and words it could easily be beaten.

As much as you wanted to go up to him and provide the comfort he so definitely needed, you couldn't stop feeling hurt by some of his words. You sigh throwing your head back against the couch.

"Fuck." You whisper, feeling the two halves of you battling inside.

You hated fighting.

It was so stressful and unnecessary, and that's exactly why you decided that you needed to go talk to Kenny. You finished cutting all the fruits, laid some out on a bowl, got a spoon and headed upstairs to Kenny.

As you got closer to the bedroom door you felt your stomach twisting into a knot. What if he tells you to fuck off? What if he doesn't want to see you at all after this? What if you break up and then you'd have toshowuponshootsanditwoukdbesoawkward!

Your mind was overthinking the future and leaving you standing right outside the door with a bowl of fruit in your hands feeling like the last idiot on the planet. It really took all of your courage to bring your knuckles up to the door and knock. Even though there was no response, you slowly opened the door and peeped in, seeing Kenny on the bed. You sighed noticing his frowned eyebrows as he scrolled through his phone.

"Kenny," you slowly sat down on the other side of the bed, not taking your eyes off of him. He didn't even look at you.

You fought your intrusive thoughts that were saying to just throw the bowl of fruit at his face and call him a dickhead.

"Look I'm sorry, I didn't think that things would spiral into something like that."

"Of course you didn't." He mumbled.

"Oh fuck you!" You exclaimed "Maybe you wouldn't be so fucking bothered if you grew a pair!"

His expression turned from angry to shocked real quick.

"What were you born fucking yesterday? It's the internet! I've seen shit way more fucked up than tweets from tenyearolds and I'm sure you have too, so stop acting like no one loves you because everyone does. Especially me and for you to even question my loyalty is so hurtful not only to me but also to you."

Kenny was at a loss for words. On one side you just insulted him, but on the other you just said you loved him and there's wasn't anything he could say. He stared at you with wide eyes as you tried to catch your breathe from all the talking.

"Uuuhhh...." He turned off his phone and put it in his pocket, turning to you and crossing his legs "I love you too?"

There was a small pause before the two of you broke out into a series of giggles, suddenly everything was ridiculously absurd and pointless. Without words both of you agreed that this fight wasn't worth the energy.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to like- I was-" Kenny groaned in annoyance as he struggled to explain "I just felt like-"

"Insecure?" You guessed.

"Yeah...That." He scratched the back of his head feeling a little uneasy at such a strong word.

"I get it." You sigh "Peace?" You hold up the bowl of fruit with a grin.

Kenny chuckles and nods "Peace." He takes the bowl.

"And it's fair of you to get jealous of me kissing Filly."

"Jealous?" Kenny chewed with a raised eyebrow "I wasn't jealous."

"Uhuh, yeah." You smirk at him.

"Wha- Nah. I was mad," he tries to hide his smile. You roll your eyes and scooch over next to him, bringing his head down and placing your lips onto his.

"Mmm, pineapple." You noded jokingly, pretending to chew.

"Stop," he giggles nudging you.

#beta squad #youtube #kingkennytv #king kenny #betasquadfanfic #betasquadedit #niko omilana #aj shabeel #chunkz #sharky #ndl

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pedrostylez · 3 months

Text

How The Crow Flies - pt. 9

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 5.4k

Chapter Summary: You and Javier complete the raid on Lorea's house while Frankie is escaping with what is remaining of his crew

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, violence, and blood mentioned heavily in parts, including description of bodies piled up, admitting of feelings (to the best of his ability) by Javier, SMUT including riding, but honestly it's brief.

A/N: Omg the final part! Once again, thank you guys for being patient. I hope you all enjoy and don't hate me for how I left it at the end...open to interpretation? Anyways....love you all! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee

Frankie is tired. Arms aching, legs screaming, ready to collapse, tired.

His mind is clouded, exhaustion taking hold as Benny hands him another backpack full of money. The wind whips across his face, the thin air making him gasp a bit louder than he intended. Benny looks at him with a worried expression, shaking his head when Frankie shrugs off the look he gives him. “Almost done, man.”

“Yeah.” Frankie calls, tossing the bag up with a grunt. He glances over to Santiago, his face caved in with dark outlines and circles around his eyes.

He knows they are all pissed at him.

Crashing the helicopter was all he had left to do, and even though Redfly said it was fine, said he picked the best option there was, there’s this sinking feeling in Frankie’s stomach. More is about to go wrong, and it’s all Frankie’s fault for not putting his foot down when they overloaded the helicopter.

How could he deny Tom’s instruction? It was a losing battle, and even though they needed him to fly, he’s sure that he would have been cast aside if he had refused another time. And the looks exchanged between them when Refly shot at the group that surrounded them once they were all out of the crash…

All Frankie could think about was your face as he crashed the helicopter into the ground, and now your face as he throws another bag to Benny. You would have been disappointed too, he thinks.

This is going to be long and torturous.

Javier watches your legs jump in the passenger seat, the tac-vest feeling tight across his chest. He reaches out, only having a little while longer of being alone with you before he has to pretend you’re just another agent-his employee. “It will be okay, hermosa.”

You nod, giving a brief, closed lip smile, wrapping your fingers around his. “I know.”

He squeezes your thigh once more, letting it rest there until they turn on to a dirt road. You tense, retracting your hand and breathing heavily through your nose. Closer and closer, you become rigid in your seat, watching the mirror to make sure the caravan of agents is still following.

“How far we going? Over.” Jason speaks through the radio, you jumping in your seat at the sound. Javier chooses to not answer, knowing that they are close and not wanting to call any further attention to themselves for those that may be listening in. He refuses to let this be another fuck up.

As his car continues down the road the trees become dense, the dirt turning to mud, and the radio picks up chatter that is new to him. Tilting his head to listen, his fingers subconsciously squeeze tighter around your leg. You grunt, grabbing at his wrist to indicate as such, but he holds on as the words through the radio become clearer.

“Someone is coming.”

“Get the boy somewhere safe.”

You frown, biting at your bottom lip and looking over to him. “The boy must be his son.”

Javier grunts, pulling his gun from his holster with one hand while keeping the steering wheel steady. You do the same with your own, holding on to the dash as Javier speeds up. If they already know that they are on their way, this likely will be a gunfight. “How old is he?”

“Less than 10. But his mother and his sister…” You trail off in confusion, looking ahead and contemplating internally. You come to a realization, shaking your head profusely before speaking. “I don’t know what those guys did, but if they are protecting the son exclusively–”

“Then Lorea may be dead.” Javier finishes your sentence, pulling the car off to the side of the road roughly. The other vehicles follow suit, everyone stepping out with weapons drawn and ready. “On foot, be ready. Supposed to be 20 guards.” He calls to the others, crouching low and leading you toward the house.

He’s relying on you, on your information that you’ve gathered so far. It should be good intel, and you don’t show signs that you think otherwise. Your hand is resting on his shoulder as you both team up, stepping through the greenery and mud methodically on the way to each building ahead.

You tap his shoulder and point, sliding your arm up so that he doesn’t have to look behind him. “Back security house, there should be 5 in there.”

He nods, glancing around quickly before bringing you toward the security building. You’re both crouched under each window, guarded and ready to take action. It’s silent, no movement to be heard beyond the wooden walls and he watches as you frown, trying to listen. You both step to the door, a silent countdown until he lifts his leg and kicks just below the handle, breaking down the door in one swift motion. He holds his gun ready, searching with it, leading and finding nothing.

No one.

You gasp behind him, his attention drawn to where you’re looking to find a poorly stacked amount of bodies and blood in the corner. It stinks, the smell permeating around him as he looks around and goes for the bathroom door. It’s unlocked, no one behind it.

You both stand there in awe, listening for anyone else to say something into your separate ear pieces, or for gunshots to be heard. Nothing comes and you’re back to shaking your head. He can see your inhale sharply, wincing as the smell circles around you. “This is…weird.” You admit, holstering your gun and looking to the pile of men again.

“I thought you said they were just here for the money.” Javi grunts, stepping out of the security house and poking his head around the corner. No one else is in sight, and no noise of their agents are around either.

“Maybe they…got caught?” You guess about Santiago and his crew, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go to the main house.” Javi decides, stepping in front of you and holstering his own gun. If this is how one security house is, then so will the others, and he is less worried about being swarmed. He takes less careful steps toward the main house where the rest of his team went.

Redfly is dead, Frankie is freezing his ass off, and all he can think about is your god damned face. He knows Will and Benny are looking at him, wondering why Frankie isn’t as quick to answer them, why he’s being closed off, but he just can’t help it.

Santiago is too stuck in his own head to notice.

Redfly’s body is sitting just a few yards away, wrapped with a tarp and covered, but Frankie swears he can still see his open eyes after he was shot. The boy that shot him is long forgotten, down the mountain a ways and he feels guilty that he doesn’t care as much as he thought he would. Frankie is too focused on the fact that when he closes his eyes, it’s either you, or Tom’s dead eyes. There’s only a few more bags of money, and he’s having a hard time believing this was worth it.

“Tell me about your girl, Fish.” Benny calls, shoving his hands into his armpits to generate some heat. His hood ruffles in the wind, the fire from the money they were willing to burn flickering between them.

Frankie shakes his head, sniffling and looking down at his knees. They’re covered in dirt, cold and aching. “Don’t have a girl.” He knows it’s pointless, to even deny. But there’s a part of him that wants to keep you to himself, still. Maybe if he blows Benny off, then he won’t ask again.

He’s wrong, of course. Benny scoffs, shaking his head and looking at Will. “He had that girl Yovanna set up for the jungle in his motel room a few times.” The smile grows on Ben’s face, white teeth stark against the dark surrounding him.

“Not supposed to be mixing like that, Fish.” Will chastises, smiling anyway. The brothers and their matching smiles staring back at Frankie, taunting him.

Frankie keeps his mouth shut, cracking his neck and adjusting his feet. He takes a look over to Santiago and sees his eyes are on him too, curious as the others, and he sighs. They aren’t going to let it go, it seems. “Probably won’t see her again.” Frankie mumbles, his chin jutting closer to his chest to let some of his breath warm the inside of his jacket.

Benny laughs at him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Sure you will, Fish. Keep your head on straight and you can come back down here, free as a bird, and see her again if you wanted.”

It’s silent while Frankie thinks, finally coming to the conclusion to tell them what he found out about you. “She…she was more than just what Yovanna hired.”

Yovanna was long gone, already on her way to Australia as far as they were all concerned. Benny quirks his eyebrow up at Frankie, glancing at Will and then giving a small shove with his shoulder against his, silently asking him to continue.

A sigh falls from Frankie’s lips, shaking his head before letting it fall out of his mouth. “She’s the Siren, from Miami.”

When he looks up at them their eyes are wide and stupefied. All watching him closely, confusion clear before a laugh bubbles out of Will. “No fucking way.”

Frankie nods, a small chuckle escaping. “Yovanna hired the DEA as her whore.”

Everyone is quiet for another moment, all eyes going to Santiago. Pope’s eyes widened, looking between them all and then a burst of laughter fell from his mouth.

Benny and Will join, all of them beginning to laugh around the blazing fire until one begins to wheeze. As it quiets down, Frankie realizes that all eyes are still on him waiting for further explanation. He looks at the three of them and sighs. “The only reason I found out was because her boss called her cellphone while she was in the bathroom.”

“What a shame.” Will said, shaking his head. “Could have gotten her killed if it wasn’t you.”

Frankie winces, remembering the knife pressed to your chest that he clutched in his hands. The fear in your eyes as blood pooled and dripped down doesn’t quite leave him as he says, “I mean, I almost did.”

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t.” Benny exclaims, slapping a hand over his back. “Would have to be running from the DEA rather than a bunch of drug lords.”

Frankie gives a half hearted laugh, looking out beyond the mountain and frowning. He wonders where you are, and if Javier Pena is keeping you safe. He glances over to Redfly, his body covered and supporting the weight of a single bag of money. He doesn’t think this was worth it after all.

Panic is coursing through you at the sight; men dead both DEA and Lorea’s, mop buckets dumped and water stained with blood. Drywall is ripped from most of the walls with stacks of money hanging haphazardly from the crumbling panels.

Javier’s mouth is open in shock, and the way you reach for him to hold yourself upright shocks you, the dizziness overwhelming. “What is….what?”

He’s shaken out of his thoughts with your touch, closing his mouth and holding your arm just above your elbow to keep you upright. He turns just as Jason steps past him. “What the fuck happened?”

Jason winces at his tone, cracking his neck. “Remaining security guards were ready for us, but most of these guys were already dead. Looks like they were cleaning up.”

“Lorea?” Javier presses, stepping toward Jason as if to pounce.

Jason doesn’t react, giving a half-hearted shrug. “Dead.” He points, moving toward the staircase. “Upstairs, if you want to see for yourself.” His eyes flash to yours sympathetically, then turning to go up the stairs.

Javier looks to you, squeezing your arm gently before letting go and leading the way to the master bedroom. You attempt to follow him, slowly climbing the stairs until Javier is out of sight ahead of you.

You’re sweating, clutching onto the stair rail and to the walls that are still standing as images of being in here only a few days ago go through your mind. It feels hard to breathe, seeing the blood smeared on the walls and the bodies piled in a corner or being moved by DEA men.

You weren’t used to this-only ever dealing with people that were alive and putting them behind bars. Never a raid like this-you weren’t ready for it.

You gasp, shocked as you step into the master bedroom where the dresser has been pushed to the side, the wall covered in holes and Lorea on the ground.

Behind his dead body is a dark room with still working security cameras, and a pile of money that has been combed through. The walls in the main bedroom have been torn from the studs, drywall and wood scattered around with torn and crumpled bills. It’s almost unbelievable, how things have been left. Did Frankie do this?

You begin shaking your head, whispering mostly to yourself, “I don’t understand.”

Javier comes up behind you, the stress and anger roiling off of his body before he gently grasps your arm. “Your friends got what they wanted out of this it looks like.” He gruffs out, pouting in a way that typically annoys you. Currently, you’re unsure if he’s angry and that alone stresses you out.

You turn to him, frowning. “This isn’t what I thought it would be Javi–”

“Don’t.” He stops you, turning to look at Jason and the others in the room who are still occupied. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. When he turns back to you, you are now sure that he is angry, no question. “You need to go downstairs, go sit in the car. I have to do damage control with Stechner.”

You go to protest him, shaking your head defiantly. “Well, let me help–”

“No.” He huffs, adjusting his stance to stand farther away from you. “You’ve done enough.”

You step back blindly, looking over to Jason who is eyeing you curiously, David who is pretending to not notice and taking photos of Lorea. Tears begin to well in your eyes as you walk down the steps to the front corridor, stopping in your tracks at the opening.

You breath starts to come heavily, difficult to push past your mouth. You lean forward, hands on your knees and let some tears fall. This is not how this was supposed to go. Frankie was supposed to get in and out. They weren’t supposed to kill this many people.

You feel guilt roiling in your stomach, looking around briefly to see if anyone is watching you while uncontrollable tears are rolling down your face. You aren’t able to comprehend how this happened-you thought you did everything right. You did what you were told, as much as you were told with only a few hiccups along the way.

Frankie was a hiccup.

The idea that Javi had been right flashes through your mind, shaking your head at yourself almost immediately. No, that can’t be right. But how did you seriously believe that Frankie and all of them would just sneak in for money and leave without hurting someone?

Your heartbeat slows down as you lean against the door frame and look out into the jungle, watching the leaves sway in what little wind there was. You glanced toward the direction of Javier’s vehicle, not seeing a soul in the yard. Turning to look into the room you’re at the threshold of, you also didn’t see anyone.

Frankie had said they were here for a payday.

Your eyes lock on a hole in the wall, the plaster thrown about and piles of money stacked haphazardly in between the studs. You wonder why they didn’t take all the money, looking to a duffle bag that is currently empty, labeled “DEA” on the outside.

Your mind sparks with interest, looking over the duffle and finding yourself suddenly in front of the hole in the wall, duffle in hand. You give a final glance around, still alone, and begin blindly reaching into the wall and shoving the duffle full of money.

To be honest, you don’t really know what you’re doing. You keep hearing voices from above you, the movement of Javier, Jason and David, but it doesn’t stop you from almost filling the bag full.

You step out into the yard, trudging in the direction of Javier’s car and throwing the duffle into the floorboard of the passenger seat. Maybe this did go all to shit, and maybe you were going to lose your job, but you weren’t going to go empty handed.

Javier is trying desperately to keep his cool. He couldn’t help the coldness toward you when he asked you to go down to the car. He needed to start planning how he was going to handle Stechner.

That son of a bitch was going to fire him.

You were silent as you left, too dumb founded and concerned to really have anything else to say. He knew you weren’t prepared to see this; you had trusted what you were told more than you let on, it seems.

“Boss.” Jason tilts his head for him to come closer, looking back to the security cameras. “Looks like they haven’t deleted any files for the past week. We can likely see who did this–”

“I know who did this.” Javier huffs, crossing his arms and looking over his shoulder to see who is listening. “Get rid of them.”

Jason’s eyes widen, shaking his head briefly. “What? But we could–”

“If it is a week’s worth then she’ll be on it.” He bites out as quietly as he can manage. “And if we only get rid of her, it will look too suspicious to only have some of it. We have to get rid of it.”

“We could say it got damaged with gunfire, or that he was in the middle of reviewing and deleting–”

“No.” Javier finishes, feeling a throbbing in his head suddenly. Clean up was always the worst part with these raids, and now there were children involved. “All of it, gone. You have at max 30 minutes before Stechner starts rubbing our noses in it, so get it out of sight.”

Jason nods, agreeing that the wrath of Stechner’s connections was not worth throwing a rogue military special unit under the bus.

No matter how badly Javier wanted Frankie to suffer.

The pricklings of jealousy are roiling through him as he takes the stairs down, half expecting you to be standing there waiting for him in defiance. When he doesn’t find you, he takes a deep breath and leans against an open hole in the wall.

His eyes catch on the stacks of money, biting at the inside of his cheek at the temptation. Who would miss this, exactly?

There’s no opportunity, David coming down the stairs with paperwork and Jason following shortly behind him, confirming that everything had been deleted. Javier can feel his phone ringing in his pocket as he starts his trek to his car, the top of your head coming into view.

He looks down, seeing Stechner’s caller-id and silencing his phone automatically. His stride speeds up, launching his door open to see you leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, crying into your hands.

An ache in his chest takes over the frustration as he climbs into the driver’s seat placing a gentle hand on the back of your neck. You jump at the contact, lifting your head to look at him briefly before you try to suppress your tears.

“It’s okay, hermosa.” He coos, pulling your face toward his and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

You try to suck in air harshly, wiping at your face and shrinking away from him. “This is all my fault.”

Javier isn’t as quick as he would like to say no, debating internally of whether or not to point out things he finds to be true. If you hadn’t stayed an extra day, not answering his phone call and spending it with Frankie, then maybe they would have captured Lorea, maybe they all would be keeping their jobs.

Instead he is silent, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the curve of the back of your neck, sighing. “Let’s go back to the office before we get in any more trouble.”

You’re sitting on Javier’s couch again, dumbstruck and numb.

You were fired, of course.

Being shipped back to Miami by the end of the week is what the ambassador had said. “You’re still welcome to work for the DEA there, but we have no further assignments for you here.”

Javier was the last to enter Noonan’s office, watching each of you get canned in different ways. David was being moved to another division, Jason was being shipped off to California, you were being sent home, and Javier…

You dreaded to think about what would be happening with his position.

He asked you to go to his place, slipping his key to you and brushing past your shoulder without another glance before he was called into Noonan’s office. You weren’t completely sure what Javier would want to say to you in the privacy of your home, and you hoped he understood.

You felt like a fuck up.

His door was pushed open before you had much more time to spiral, his suit jacket off and over his shoulder, his eyes finding yours. “Sorry, it took longer than I thought.”

“What did he say?” You ask quietly, beginning to pick at the skin around your thumbnail.

Javier clocks it, throwing his jacket on the back of a chair and slipping off his shoes at the table. He strides over, giving a soft smile before settling next to you and grabbing for your hands. “He asked what I was thinking, asked if I thought stepping away from the cartels was worth what Lorea potentially had.”

“And?” You were impatient, clasping your hands tighter and worrying your bottom lip.

He shrugs. “I told him I had good intel, said it was worth the risk.” Your eyes can’t help but look over to the duffle bag you dropped by your other bag of belongings. He brings your attention back to him by saying, “Let me come home with you.”

You’re shocked, furrowing your brow and pulling your hands away from his. “What?”

“I quit, and I don’t want to go back to Texas just yet.” He shrugs, almost nonchalantly except you know better-his eyes are telling a different story. The apprehension behind them, the way they watch your facial expressions.

“I-I don’t know if I’m going to go back to Miami or not yet, Javi.” You sigh, looking to the floor. Part of you thinks you need to return to Utica, to hide away for as long as possible and forget about all of this. About the jungle, about Javier, about Frankie.

Javi’s hand brushes against your cheek, subconsciously leaning toward him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the snow.” He says quietly, smirking before correcting himself. “If you’ll have me.”

Your heart beats faster, tilting into him and smiling. “You wouldn’t even stop in Texas first?”

He shrugs. “Maybe for a week, to let my dad know what is going on but…I would meet you wherever you wanted me to.”

“Why?” The question falls out of your mouth, unable to be stopped. You and Javier had been back and forth, and you weren’t necessarily opposed to this–whatever this was.

It was mostly just complicated.

Javier smiles almost shyly at you, scratching his fingers at the base of your skull. “I care about you.” He says simply, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours but pulling back before fully committing to the act. His eyes searched yours, asking for permission.

You met him the rest of the way, leaning in to press your lips to his and shutting your eyes tightly. Javier groaned into your mouth, bringing his other hand up to the other side of your face and holding you to him.

He pulls away for a moment, face flushed and his eyes closed. “I don’t just care about you. I just…do you need me like I need you?” He questions, opening his eyes to look into yours.

They’re wide, a dark chocolate brown that you wish you could swim in to forget all your worries, but his question has you unsure. “I don’t know what you mean, Javi.”

He pulls away, clasping your hands in his again and running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “I mean that…if you and I aren’t in the same room, then I’m thinking about you.” You pauses, pressing his lips to one hand and then the other. “If you’re in trouble, then I want to get to you.”

Javier leans back forward, pressing his mouth to yours and letting his tongue swipe briefly around before mumbling against your lips. “And if you’re not the one on top of me then–”

“I get it.” You mumble back, pressing your lips back to his and bringing your fingers up to mess up his curls.

He groans again, his question forgotten as you straddle his thighs and slide a hand under his shirt and up to his chest.

You laugh as he pushes your shirt up, helping you undo your bra and remove everything from the waist up. His lips sear into the skin of your chest, burning into you like a brand.

It’s quick, faster than normal how you both become completely naked and his hands are squeezing at your hips to get you sinking on to his cock. His eyes are rolling back into his head as your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders, riding him slowly and carefully.

He squeezes your hips harder until you yelp, almost in pain, just so that he can hold you up and thrust himself into you instead of having you do the work.

The sweat covering you starts to cool with his breath fanning over you, both of you silent beyond grunts and moans. He’s focused on your center, his thumb snaking to your front to press gently into your clit, his eyes snapping up to watch you orgasm around him.

He follows you over that cliff, letting you collapse into him and his arms wrapping around your back, stroking up and down your spine.

It’s a moment or two before you lean upright, smiling down at him and brushing the fringe off of his forehead. “I think that I need you too.” You whisper, watching the smile spread across his face.

“Yeah?” He asks lightly, pressing a kiss in between your breasts before playfully biting at one nipple.

You laugh again, nodding along with him. “I think I’ll go to Miami to start, though. And you should go to Texas.”

He grumbles, half-heartedly agreeing before mumbling. “Yeah, okay.”

Two weeks later

You’re sitting cross legged in an almost empty apartment in Bogatá, packing up the final bag of your belongings. Another stack of money is being wrapped in a shirt, folded neatly with a pair of jeans as if nothing is wrong with it before being placed carefully into the suitcase.

You had put as much as you could into your bank account without raising suspicions, but the whole thing was nerve wracking to begin with. You phone is ringing incessantly somewhere, and you blindly reach for the last place you left it.

Pressing it to your ear, you answer. “Hello?”

“Hermosa.” Javier says through the speaker, a clear smile in his voice. “You lose your phone again? You need a new one?”

“No, no…” You trail off, looking to the turned off burner phone you had left on your kitchen table. You pick it up, fiddling with it as you pace. “How’s Texas?”

“Oh fine.” He grumbles, shuffling around something before the click of a door reaches your ears. “Wanted to make sure you were on your way to the airport.”

“Just about, the car is on it’s way.” The burner phone comes to life in your hands, the screen a bright blue before it settles and tells an incorrect time. “Everything is basically packed though.”

“Good.” Javier pauses and you can sense his nervousness.

“What is it Javi?” You ask with a small chuckle, crossing your arms.

“Just wanted to make sure it was still okay to fly to Miami in a week?” He asks. You can picture that he is running his hand through his hair right now. “You’ll only have been back a week, and I don’t want to impose–”

“You’re not!” You exclaim. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. Don’t back out on me.”

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, then launching into something his father did the night before and complaining that he is getting called by the Sheriff’s office to become a deputy. “They want me? A retired DEA agent?”

“Well your ass would look great in their uniforms.” You coo, zipping up the suitcase and setting it by the door.

He grumbles, complaining a bit more before finally asking for you to have a good flight, and to let him know when you have landed, even with the time difference.

You make the promise, hearing someone honk at the front door and hanging up quickly before exiting the apartment and tossing the key under the mat.

After loading up your bag and getting comfortable in the back seat, your phone begins to ring again. You groan out loud, looking down to your hand where you are still holding the burner phone and your daily phone, and see that it is not the one you had expected. The number is not one you know, and obviously not saved in the contacts, but your heart begins to beat faster.

The burner rings for a third time before you snap out of wondering who it could be, flipping it open and bringing it to your ear. You listen for a moment, frowning when there is no clear indication of who it could be. “Hello?”

A sigh you’ve heard. “‘You alright?” Frankie gruffs through the speaker, quiet but calm.

“How the hell did you get this number?” You ask just as quietly.

“Remembered a few digits. Sue me.” He bites back, and you feel yourself heating at the thought. Frankie as he looked through your phone to see Javi calling you over and over, also going to the settings to find what the number to the phone was. You’re not sure if the heat is anger or want.

“What the fuck happened?” You launch into questioning him, asking why they had done what they did, trying to not frighten the driver that was pretending to not listen.

“It got all screwed up, and I ended up more broke than before.” He sighs after listening to your rant, your questions drilling into him. You think that maybe he is actually relaxed somewhere, resigned.

You glance down to your purse between your feet, some of the money you had taken in your own wallet. “You didn’t even get any of it?”

“Oh, we got some. Lots, even.” He laughs ruefully. “But it was too much for the helicopter, and Redfly died and–we got enough to get us out of there.”

You hum, slightly disappointed for him. You think briefly that you should tell him you were able to get some of the cash, but then quickly decide against it.

The driver pulls up into the airport temporary parking, popping the trunk and pulling out your bags for you.

“Frankie, I have to go.” You sigh.

“Where?” He scoffs, not believing you.

You roll your eyes, looking around and seeing that driver has already left, and you’re about to be late for security. “I have to get on this flight. Go home.”

“Miami?” He asks, suddenly excited.

“Well, yeah I–”

“Let me pick you up.” He interrupts.

You pause, standing on the sidewalk with the burner pressed to your ear, your other phone in your hand. Finally, after a long moment of silence with Frankie patiently waiting on the other end, you’ve decided.

“My flight lands at 4.” You confirm.

You almost hear him smiling. “I’ll be there.” He says quietly, a silent promise following his words.

You click the phone shut, looking around you briefly before tossing the burner into the nearby trash, stepping toward the entrance to get your bags checked. Frankie could memorize your new number later.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #crossover #frankie morales x reader #htcf

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dsaf-confessions · 16 days

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important announcement

okay so modred here!!! and i am about to share my total, unbiased, unfiltered and honest thoughts.

i am leaving the blog

yes yes i know i try to act unbothered by everything but its scary how everything changed so fast! did you know i was actually considering sharing my main on here because i thought this place was so chill? safe to say im glad i did not do that.

i've tried to win the idgaf war but the truth is its killing me. im fighting in the idgaf war and im losing. it feels like its been months since it started, but its not even been three weeks. just over two, im pretty sure. its not even been three weeks since i've turned 15 years old!

two days after my 15th birthday this started!! what unfortunate timing. and honestly, ive got exams in less than a month, and i've been so stressed about everything. not just exams, not just internet drama, but like a secret third thing too.

its super scary to admit im being stressed out by all of this considering that there are people whove taken pride in upsetting me and for what crime? they're old posts. i was 14 when i posted them. id apologised. id listened to advice. i'd improved. but all because one day someone decided they didn't like the blog, this entire account collapsed and so did my mental health with it it seemed.

i dont like being honest. i just like to laugh about everything. i know certain people are going to be laughing and proud that they've made me leave this blog while reading this post, and while thats the reason ive been scared to leave this whole time, they're going to do that anyway. they're going to keep hating me. so the least i could do is try to put myself first rather than try to push through it using spite as my motivator.

i know there will likely be people bragging on their accounts that they've made me leave (im aware of what people are saying). and that upsets me. i wont lie. but at the end of the day, if you find yourself being proud of making a newly turned 15 year old leave an account that they once found comfort in, then thats more of a judge of character about you than me.

its scary how people can decide that they don't like you one day and make a post ruining everything, and its scary how people can act comforting to your face and then go ahead and brag about how upset they've made you to someone else, but in the end i cannot control what people say and at the end of the day i can only control what i do and who i surround myself with and thats why im leaving.

im not leaving the discord, or the dsaf fandom at all, but i am getting far away from this blog and blocking everyone who hates me because thats all i can do. all i can request is that if you know who i am, keep it secret. and if you somehow find me, please dont try to talk to me.

i think i'll just talk with my friends and post my silly little art and things without becoming a known name. its the only way to exist in fandom i think.

but wait! this blog wont die!

you see, as you were reading this post with tears in your eyes, i had secretly been assigning not just one, but two new admins for the blog! i trust them to keep it running, but also if you guys treat them terribly i give them full permission to delete this entire account. they need to put themselves first too.

so, my last words to the dsaf confessions blog?

change da world. my final message. goodbye. /ref

uhh just kidding!! final message is: if you dont like this blog, block it. if you dont like me, then we'll leave this here and forget this drama ever happened. dont try to make my past mistakes these guys problems. as soon as i hit post im leaving this blog, so any hate you try to send towards me will not go through to me. you wont even be screaming into the void either, just at some innocent people.

thats all i have to say. ily all!!! /p

-modred

#dsaf confessions #not a confession #modred #aaaa this is scary to post im scared of being open especially abt the situation #knowing how much worse it could become if i just say the wrong thing

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kitorin · 8 months

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"What's a possession of yours you associate with your lover?"

Meguru ponders a bit at the question, clearly deep in thought. You place down the card, one from the bunch of 'Questions for couples' game Yoichi had gifted you recently. They're fun, ranging from deep, personal ones to lighthearted ones which were ultimately a matter of simple preferences. Apparently, they bring newer couples closer together (keyword 'apparently', Yoichi's only validation is his own knowledge).

You wait patiently— though fun they're not all easy, most questions were accompanied by a pause to contemplate. You've both considered giving up a question or two, simply because there was too much to think about (those resulted in a ramble or two, they're barely articulate but interesting to listen to nonetheless).

"Got it!" He smiles with triumph, as if he'd just won a prize or scored a goal.

"Omamori! The one my mum bought me this year." You know exactly what he's talking about; the Japanese amulet she'd purchased in Osaka during an art exhibition. Pink brocade silk bag adorned with cherry blossoms in a darker shade, the temple's name written in golden kanji on one side— with the other having success on it. It's so pretty, he carries it around wherever he goes, either the white string tied to his bag or placed securely in his pocket.

You weren't sure what he'd say, but a good luck charm certainly didn't come to mind.

"Why? Is it because I'm pretty?"

"Not really."

"You're so lovely, Meguru." Sarcasm laces itself with your tone. If not that, then you're even more curious about what it could be.

"No, I mean, I can't compare how pretty you are to anything else in this world, really." It's almost miraculous how he went from seemingly insulting you to making your face flush with flustered embarrassment. "But that's not the main point. This omamori." He reaches into his pocket, stroking it but leaving it there. "Is a lot more special than any other one." There's his grin, the one that competes with the sun because of how warm he is.

Nothing really comes to mind. You know they 'expire', some people believe they do every year, returning them to the temple for the staff to burn it in a ceremony. Others believe that they last forever. That doesn't serve as a clue anyways, whichever Meguru was, he kept them around either way.

You yield, too impatient and curious to think much more about it. "I give up."

"It's because we started dating this year."

"Doesn't the kanji say it's for career success?" There's no correlation between it and you, you have nothing to do with his position as an athlete, or with soccer as a whole.

"I didn't mean it like that." Meguru pulls you in for a hug, nuzzling his chin into your shoulder. "You're my omamori."

You feel as if it's the other way, he's always defending you; being the first to stand up for you verbally or fighting without hesitation even if the opposing party was for no match for you in the first place. Remaining silent, you wait for him to clarify.

"You've always helped me feel at peace. You protect me from those scary thoughts that have kept me up for nights. You protect me from loneliness." His hug grows tighter, as if something was going to take you away from him. "Thanks to you I don't have to rely on some imaginary friend to keep me company."

Your fingers run through his hair, soft and messy from rolling around during his nap from earlier. "Then I hope you'll let me continue doing so."

"Of course." Meguru kisses you, the sweetness of him and pineapple lingering on your lips. "I love you."

Those three words are no foreigner to you. You've uttered them to friends, family, and even strangers on the internet. But with intimacy those very same words metamorphose into something different. The allure of romance places weight onto them, the weight of upmost importance.

That doesn't mean you find it too heavy.

"I love you too, Meguru." You go for another kiss, the saccharinity of his lips being strangely addictive, something about the taste of him mingled with pineapple is so intoxicating.

Three simple words, yet known to possess so much significance. They say it's a frightening confession to make, a powerful declaration of adoration and vulnerability. Much like any component of love, it comes with uncertainty and the fear of being deprived of reciprocated feelings.

Not for you though, the words come off both of your tongues smoothly, as if you were born to do so. There's no signs of hesitation or fear, or worry— just faces flushed with bashful scarlet and kisses honeyed with adoration.

( Guess the card game wasn't lying when it said it'd bring you closer, nor was Yoichi )

Tagging: @yuzurins

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goldensunset · 2 years

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AITA for trying to kill my students?

Title sounds bad but hear me out.

I (90?M) have three students (20M, 18F, 16M). The older two are pretty normal people that I just kinda found somewhere when they were kids. The youngest was dropped off at my door about four years ago, having suffered clear brain damage. He was brought there by an on-again, off-again friend of mine (also 90ishM) who claimed that what happened to the kid was somehow his fault. I told him everything between us was forgiven and that I’d handle it.

Now, the thing about the kid (let’s call him ‘V’) is that what my old friend did to him was essentially trying to turn him into a living superweapon. V’s heart got split in half into pure light and pure darkness (I’m not sure where the other one went, but if I ever see a being of darkness, it’s on sight), and if those halves ever come together again, the weapon will be forged, and with it, the power to end the world. But my friend (let’s call him ‘X’) pinky promised he wasn’t gonna try to do that anymore after it failed the first time, and I believe in my friend.

But just to be safe, I’ve kept V from going off into the outside world for these past few years, in case X or anyone like him ever found the kid and used him to try to forge the weapon. All three of my students are homeschooled and I don’t let them access the Internet, nor have they ever really left this place since coming here, so they’re pretty sheltered. I have much stricter rules for V in particular, and I’ve managed to keep him from ever finding out who or what he is, since he can’t remember a thing. He complains about being treated like a child all the time, but that’s just teenage angst, you know? I’m doing what’s best for him.

Anyway, to make a very long story short, V found out about the half-of-a-superweapon thing. He finally came back after having run away from home (which I did not give him permission to do, mind you), looking upset, so I tried to comfort him. But then he confronted me about his newfound knowledge, which he learned after running into X, who was in fact unfortunately trying to pull off his plan again. I admitted to having hidden this knowledge from V for his own sake.

So here’s where I might be TA. I knew what he was all these years, but I still tried to protect him and let him live his life as much as possible while simultaneously protecting the world from him. But at this moment I figured I couldn’t do that anymore, and so the only way to prevent him from becoming the superweapon was to preemptively destroy him. Believe me, I didn’t want to, but I didn’t see much of a choice. It was for the greater good of protecting the world.

So I tried attacking V, but my oldest student (let’s call him ‘T’) showed up and interfered. He wouldn’t get out of my way, and I didn’t get a chance to explain my reasoning to him. So I told him that if he didn’t listen to me and let me do this, I’d have to kill him too. It’s worth mentioning that V himself then said he agreed with me about him needing to die. But T kept resisting me and started using the power of darkness, which was absolutely terrifying, (I have severe darkness-related trauma, btw), and then he sent V through a portal to protect him. So then I tried attacking T. All darkness everywhere needs to be destroyed, at any cost. It’s a serious threat.

So, Reddit, AITA? I tried to attack and kill two of my students for the greater purpose of saving the universe.

EDIT: I am dead. T actually bested me in combat and then X delivered the killing blow. I’m typing this as a ghost, yes. It’s kind of a complicated situation. Stop asking me to go do anything or apologize to anyone; I’m stuck here.

EDIT 2: No, I am not a troll.

#follow up to the post i made the other day lol #this took a while but i’m proud of it ngl #birth by sleep #kh bbs #eraqus #kingdom hearts #mine: kh #you just know he’s being torn to shreds in the comments #wish i could’ve included more but this would be a mile long if i recapped all of bbs from his pov

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ikemen-translations · 3 months

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Morganatic Idol Prologue 1/10

Just as each star shines differently, each person has a different charm.

I believe that everyone has their own brilliance.

However... sometimes there are stars that emit light many times more intense.

The sparkle is so intense and dazzling...

The light is so strong that it blurs the surrounding stars, attracting everyone, making them yearn for something... and sometimes even giving them the courage to live.

I never knew that there were such overwhelmingly beautiful stars until I met them.

This is my Cinderella Story, guided by those dazzling stars...

Office

The sound of someone typing on a keyboard echoes in the noisy office

(I think this is fine)

After I finished entering the data, I let out a sigh.

(All you have to do is check it and submit it, and all your morning work is done)

Eiko Mori: Mr. Kawanaga, have you done what I asked you to do?

MC: Ah, Mori-san. Yes, please check it

Mori: Then next time, please hurry up more and give me a copy of the document

Interrupting my words, Mori-san quickly placed a stack of materials on the desk

MC: "Oh, I understand..."

I sigh softly as I listen her leaving with the sound of heels clicking.

(Additional work, huh? It can't be helped. let's hurry and get it done!)

This is Aegis Public Holdings, a company located in Tokyo.

It's a major advertising agency that handles a wide range of advertising on TV, magazines, internet, etc.

The department that produces advertisements is the Create Division, I work here as a temporary employee

When I was looking for a job, I went to the final interview at Aegis and unfortunately failed.

(I was really disappointed at that time. Fortunately I was able to get a job offer in another industry...)

I had always dreamed of becoming an advertising planner, and I just couldn't give up on working for Aegis.

That's why I chose to become a temporary employee

(When I think about that, I can't keep whining)

(I've always admired Aegis for a long time. And being able to work in the Create Division is an amazing thing in itself)

Lunch break

As i walked through a nearby park with my lunch in hand, I remembered the materials I had copied earlier.

(If I remember correctly, that was a commercial for drinking water that Mr. Mori worked on)

(That's amazing... I want to do someting big like that someday)

Mr. Mori is a full-time employee and the leader of the team I belong to. She is said to be the ace of the department.

The other employees are all people who have built up their careers through their upbringing.

(Everyone is doing a good job, looks stylish, and is full of confidence)

It's so sparkly and dazzling... I still don't have that kind of confidence...

(I mainly work as an assistant, and I don't have enough experience to be involved in the main work...)

Even in eating lunch , the difference is obvious... I make my own lunch to save money but the full-time employees get a special lunch from a fancy restaurant

(... No, no, no... The bento that I took so much effort to make won't taste as good but It's ok)

I Shake my head to get rid of the dark feeling

(I got into Aegis anyway, so now I'll work steadily and gain solid experience)

And... someday, I want to be promoted to a full-time position, create wonderful advertisements and give dreams to others

Just as I was once encouraged by an advertisement I saw when I was feeling down... that is my dream

(Okey, let's do our best this afternoon too!)

Office

(What is it? It's kind of noisy)

Manager: Everyone, listen please! The sales department has just landed an incredibly large project!

The section manager looks excited and speaks in front of everyone

Manager: It's a commercial for a new perfume from the major French brand "Esance"!

Manager: This product will be rolled out worldwide, and of course the commercial will be aired all over the world!

MC: The whole world!?

(Amazing! But why did such a worldwide project go to a Japanese agency?)

Manager: Actually, this time, Ezans has specified the image character to be used in the commercial

Manager: Exe Creed!

At that moment, the screams of female employees rang out

Exe Creed is a Japanese male idol group that is popular all over the world

Their strength lies in self-production, from song writing, composition and choreography to costume design and stage direction

With their outstanding singing and dancing, they quickly exploded in popularity as soon as they were formed and rose to the top

Their momentum is not limited to Japan, but they are a global group that has topped the American hit charts

(Even I, who don't know anything about idols, know about it)

There is not a day that goes by that I don't see them in the media and I hear that they have many passionate fans all over the world

(I see... The reason Ezans entrusted the commercial to Japan was to use Exe Creed)

(But up until now, famous Hollywood actresses have always done the commercials for Ezans)

(Japanese idol... and It's outrageous that a man is nominated...!?)

Apparently, the advertising agency that will handle this project will be decided through a competition between multiple companies

Manager: We will definitely win, we are putting the prestige of our company on the line!

The enthusiastic manager said something even more surprising

Since the person chosen was a world-famous idol we asked for a wider rang of opinions but in the end, all employees seem to be able to come up with plans, regardless of department or position

(This is a great opportunity! Even as a temporary worker, I might be able to be involved in creating advertisements from the planning stage...!)

My heart pounded violently. The feeling of "I want to try it" overflows

Female employee 1: If I'm selected does that mean I will be able to meet the Exes?

Female employee 2: I'll do it!

Mori: It's amazing that It's on a global scale and It's with Exes, I can't miss it!

While the office is buzzing with excitement, a fire is burning inside my heart. I was thinking of a plan, and I started to feel anxious.

I'll show them what I can do!

(Let's do it. I'll think of a plan and I'll definitely grab this chance!)

#morganatic idol #ikemen series #cybird #translation #morganatic idol prologue

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sapphire-weapon · 2 months

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>open Twitter >open DMs to send a message to a buddy I haven't spoken to in a while >there's a shitton of messages that I never got notifications for that I just straight-up missed over the course of A YEAR >goddamn it Twitter >this is all Elon Musk's fault >anyway >one of them is from the Project Umbrella guys >remember the big stupid bitchfight I got into with them last year >oh Jesus what the fuck did they want back then that I missed >open DM >HE'S DEFENDING THE RE ARCHIVES >NO FUCKING WAY LOL

THAT'S NOT WHAT THE RE ARCHIVES SAYS

THIS IS WHAT THE RE ARCHIVES SAYS:

And that's NOT what happens in Leon's RE3 epilogue. THIS is Leon's RE3 epilogue:

Oh but wait!

There's more!

This guy then tries to go on to defend the "Adam Benford kidnapped Leon" argument. Let's see how well his argument holds up.

So let's check his facts. Let's do a search for Jun Takeuchi.

Interesting. So Takeuchi became an executive around 2017. RE6 came out in 2012. So Takeuchi wasn't an executive at the time RE6 was written or released.

In fact

looking at this

Takeuchi didn't work on Resident Evil 6 at all. So... if he didn't work on RE6, then that would make anything he writes about it... fanfiction... wouldn't it? Otherwise, what gives him word of god for RE6's story? The fact that he was employed at the company at the time? Does this mean that any random environmental artist has word of god over the story? Do the Monster Hunter guys have word of god over RE6, too?

And what about Tsukasa Takenaka? Well, he's not even a big enough name to have a Wikipedia page to begin with. In fact, looking him up, it seems like he had a minor hand in writing RE5, produced Revelations 1, and worked on RE: The Mercenaries 3D.

yikes.

Okay, well what about this dude's other claims?

Adam Benford was director of the CIA in 2002 (according ONLY TO that airsoft ad written by the guy who did not work on RE6; this is NOT stated in RE6 itself), and his position in 1998 is unknown -- implying that he was not actually the director of the CIA in 1998. But Leon was kidnapped in 1998 by the CIA. So if he wasn't the director... then I guess he wasn't behind the kidnapping, was he?

Our friend from Project Umbrella then goes on to make a bunch of other claims right in a row, so let's go down them one by one.

>"Leon and Adam working together for a decade is only an approximation" Okay, but if you're approximating, the number would be closer to 15, not 10. Benford died in 2011. 2011 - 1998 = 13. So the rounded number would be 15.

>it's okay if RE6 gets the date wrong because supplementary material gets it wrong >implying that the game does not have more people working on it to ensure accuracy than random supplemental material. You're telling me that no one on the team of hundreds that worked on this game remembered that Raccoon City happened in 1998?

>RE6 is off by a year re: Chris killing Wesker

Is that true?

No, actually. That's not true at all. RE6 says it happened in 2009. And, wouldn't you know it. RE5 takes place in 2009.

So, what do you think, Mr. Project Umbrella?

Is that enough research that I've done for you?

Maybe the next time you want to go into a woman's DMs to mansplain at her and call her hysterical, you might want to get your fucking facts right first, you self-important misogynistic piece of human fucking garbage.

So.

In conclusion.

DO NOT LISTEN TO THE FUCKERS WHO CONTROL THE WIKI

THEY JUST FUCKING GO ON THE INTERNET AND TELL LIES

and talk down to women, apparently