#Someone's idiotic post was the last straw

[skygemspeaks]

okay let's do this again, for the last time this season, and what a way to end it!

i like that nami got to be included in the walk to arlong park, it was really nice!

the banter between zoro and sanji is already quite funny. i like that sanji is just earnestly trying to be part of the crew, but zoro's being a little bit bitchy because he feels like his place as the first mate is being threatened. later on in the episode when sanji starts calling out his move names, and zoro makes fun of him for it...how much do you wanna bet that the reason zoro starts calling out his attack names because his thought process is like "oh no, the shitty cook is also calling out his attack names what if luffy starts liking him better than me because i don't do it?"

as someone with dental trauma, seeing arlong's teeth fall out one by one was horrifying, thank you very much. it was well done

the fights in this arc were well choreographed, and i'm actually really happy that they all finished by around halfway through the episode because then we got a good amount of time to wrap everything up

it was really sweet when nami went running up to tackle usopp and zoro in a hug. i did feel a bit bad for sanji, but ehh it's understandable. she's been sailing with usopp and zoro for a while now! those are her boys!!!! and she didn't think she'd ever be able to sail with them again! she barely even knows sanji at this point

the scene after the tower comes crashing down and the straw hats are all waiting to see if luffy made it is great. nami looks like her whole world is ending again, because first she lost her mother, and now she might have lost her captain. and then everyone's relief when they see luffy come out is palpable! sanji doesn't even try to hide his relief! he's become so emotionally invested in this crew already and he's known them for just a few days

sanji's smugness when zoro comes back for seconds was cute, and i love their banter afterwards!

koby and helmeppo standing up to garp when they disagree with his orders was a good scene, and i liked their conversation about it afterwards at the end of the episode. each marine's personal code of justice is a big theme in the anime, and i like that they establish it here, and that it's what impresses garp enough to make him want to train them personally

we finally got the luffy vs garp confrontation! it was a good way to see just how small luffy is in the grand scheme of things, that he wasn't able to hurt garp at all. when luffy starts laughing and garp drops him and starts laughing as well, it was a good tension break. i really really wish that we got at least one grandpa hug before garp left...i know it never happened in the manga, but i crave that grandfatherly affection for luffy. but i know neither of these two idiots are like that. ace better fucking hug luffy at least once next season i s2g.

when nami is talking to bellemere's grave, and nojiko shows up wearing bellemere's shirt.....🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

the final conversation with luffy and koby was adorable! i loved the hug! also, i really like that koby was the first one to show luffy his bounty. a great way of coming full circle to the beginning of the season when he's standing next to luffy, looking at the notice board in shells town and luffy asks where his face is

the scenes where people see luffy's bounty!!!! makino grinning in pride!! kaya already looking healthier without kuro's poison! Zeff posting luffy's poster on the employee of the month board!!!!!!!! alvida and buggy meeting!!!! (if they make alvida lose weight or recast her next season i'm gonna kill someone)

helmeppo finally admitted that koby was his friend!!!! their little fistbump!! i've really come to like koby over the course of this season, and it's been great seeing his character arc

the mihawk and shanks conversation was great! shanks making jokes about his missing arm was hilarious, i love how irreverent he is

the redhair pirates are all SO proud when they see luffy's poster!!! and shanks' big, goofy, proud grin when as he stares at the poster just made my heart melt.

merry finally gets to fly the straw hat jolly roger again, i'm so happy for her!! luffy's absolute uncontainable joy at the sight of it, like he can't believe his eyes, was absolutely perfect!

the cast-off ceremony was fantastic! i really like the effect they did where their younger selves spoke in the voices of their older selves.

i could be wrong, but i think i heard we are in that last scene as they sailed off? which, amazing!

FUCK YEAH THAT LAST SHOT OF SMOKER!!! i can't wait to see more of him next season!!!

#opla liveblog #opla spoilers #one piece #opla #monkey d luffy #monkey d garp #koby op #helmeppo #nami #sanji #roronoa zoro #usopp #red leg zeff #makino op #kaya op #white chase smoker #red hair shanks #dracule mihawk #nojiko #bellemere op

[gay-jewish-bucky]

all this ao3 discourse is reminding me of a few things

that a month or so ago i was "exposed as a groomer", why? on a mutual's post that quoted chris evans call the people aggressively opposing the queer rep in lightyear "idiots" someone reacted really angrilly and stated that this was their last straw and they could no longer support him. i pointed their account out in the replies so other people could block them like i had. they took a screenshot of my blog and posted it stating i was a groomer/supported grooming bc i supported queer rep in a kids movie

being very newly out to myself over a decade ago, and reading youtube comments from people claiming that gay people were doing unimaginable shit around children and saying that it was just part of our nature and we were dangerous predators

the first queer book i ever read was Annie on My Mind, a sweet story about two young girls who fall in love, it was the first YA book that portrayed queer characters positively and that is one of the most challenged books in U.S. history (being actually burned at least once), one case even making it to federal court

homophobes think children being aware that queer people exist at all is inherently predatory and that we're all groomers, look more recently at the right wing response to drag queen story hour and the repugnant things said

queer content is not safe, they will come for it under the guise of "protecting the children" and you all need to understand that, this isn't paranoia, this is our reality

as Rabbi Steven Greenberg, an openly gay orthodox rabbi and major advocate for LGBT+ acceptance in the Jewish community says in “Wrestling with G-d and Men: Homosexuality in the Jewish Tradition”,

“Gay sex life, unlike straight sex life, is never a private matter. When a man and a woman walk hand in hand, it is their love that they make public. When two men walk hand in hand, it is their sex life that they make public… Our words are acts; our privacy is public. This reality stems from the nature of homophobia.”

Update: Election Results posted August 15th at 9:10pm EDT

Tiffany G has NOT been elected to the board

#ao3 #ao3 elections #grooming mention #ask to tag #a03 discourse #pro ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction

[heartsforseo]

Someone like Gaming couldn’t be hated, right? A nice, soft-hearted, popular, and good looking, guy like Gaming is everyone’s dream man </3

Right? Or does someone despise him? And that someone could be you.

° Gaming whom you first met at Qiaoying village.

Your parents have been friends since way back and you help them with their tea business (which got you introduced to Gaming.)

° When you first met him, he was a bit shy hiding behind his father’s leg.

° But once you get to know him, he was really loud and always offer you to go eat Dim Sum with him.

° Years flew by and your relationship with him got even better. He was nice and a bit goofy, but that’s what made you like him.

° Until one night.

“Hey Y/n, you won’t forget about me right?” He said, feeling nervous and twirling one of his hair strands. “Of course not. Why would I? You’re my only friend, idiot.” You answered back innocently. “Ah really? Well, that’s good.” He stated. Staying silent and gazing upon the starry night.

° 2 weeks has passed since you’ve hanged out with Gaming.

° So, you made a decision and arrive at his house to hang finally hang out with him.

° You knocked over the door, but no one answered.

Knock

Still no one

Knock knock

Why isn’t anybody opening the door?

Knock knock knock

Usually, Gaming would immediately open it with the fir- wait… where IS Gaming? Even if he’s busy he’d still find a way to hang out with me, right?

You were shocked when someone opened the door other than Gamin. It was his dad. Usually at a time like this, his father is away and doing his tea business.

"Oh Y/n, come in, come in." Yip Tak, Gaming's father said, with a hint of gloom.

"Hello, Mr. Tak," you look behind his figure trying to find a sign of Gaming's presence, but failed. "Is Gaming here?"

Yip Tak frowned but spoke, "I should've known you were going to ask that... but you see he left," Your face frowns. Why wouldn't he say anything? Weren't you hip to hip? The villagers never see both kids alone. "we had some...disagreements and I fear I finally plucked the last straw. If you wish to see-"

"No, thank you," You cut Mr. Tak off before finishing his long sentence "I have no time for people who can't even say goodbye."

You left the scene, feeling all emotions stirring inside you.

A/n: so uhh...this was originally made when Gaming ws released. But, I ws brainstorming on other things so I didn't get to post it immediately..but HIHI im abck

#fypfypfypfypfypfypdypfypfypfypfypfypfyfpfyfpfyp #tumblr fyp #x reader #gn reader #fluff #angst #gaming #genshin impact #genshin impact gaming #ga ming #genshin impact ga ming #genshin gaming #genshin ga ming #ga ming x reader #gaming x reader #ga ming genshin impact #gaming genshin impact #ga ming x reader angst #gaming x reader angst

[captainjonnitkessler]

I wrote out a long post about how exhausting it is to be online when everyone is so absolutely devoted to being negative about everything all the time. According to twitblr everything is the worst it's ever been, no victories have ever been achieved, and anyone who says otherwise or has any semblance of hope or joy in their lives is a naive idiot being manipulated by the vague yet menacing Ruling Class.

Then I didn't post it because I'm usually fine about receiving negative comments but I swear to fuck on this post in particular having someone try to dunk on me by telling me "actually everything IS the worst it's ever been and you're just a neoliberal cuck" WILL be the last fucking straw for me

#i'm not ready for the tumblr curse of 'post drawing the EXACT sort of person it was complaining about' to activate #i'll probably post it later though #maybe right before i go to bed. by the time i wake up in the morning negative comments on the internet will not affect me #because i'll remember i'm an adult with an actual job to do and the internet is a dumb fake place that doesn't matter #but yeah. being online has been pretty rough on me lately. have y'all ever considered just taking a W once in a while #without doomsaying about how it's actually nothing that will help no one and we all just have to die about it

[atlas-library]

I think one of my favourite headcanons from the fandom regarding Toge is that even his sounds can be cursed. For example, him screaming makes you have a headache, or worse (don't ask me what it is, it just looks painful and unbearable); his cries make you cry, too. Which is why he tries very hard to keep quiet.

After reading one of the most hilarious tweets of my life (to the point where I, a Quiet Person™, kept giggling out loud), I just thought of a scenario where Toge can't keep his laughs in.

post-scriptum: i realise i got a bit... carried away. anyway. <3

It starts in the evening, when he watches a YouTube compilation of one of his favourite YouTubers' funny moments.

He's never seen the compil before, which is probably part of why it was all so damn hilarious. Usually, Toge is used to the YouTuber's antics, and managed to stiffle his laugh, and at worst have a big grin plastered on his face— Until his cheeks hurt.

This evening, though, it's hard to keep sounds in. He's alone in the garden, watching the video with earbuds on, and he already feels his shoulders twitch up and down; his grin is bigger than ever, hard to control, and his cheeks are already hurting.

Then, the last straw.

Something hilarious happens in the compil, and Toge quickly shoves a hand against his mouth as giggles escape him. It's too late, though: the first-years heard him, or at least they heard a noise. Sounded like someone giggling, but they don't recognise that voice.

Toge tries hard to keep his voice down, not giggle as much, but he's already crying of laughter; another giggle escape him, followed by a second one, a third one, a fourth, a fifth— And so on.

The first-years are definitly suspicious, and as Nobara half-jokingly punches her fist against her palm (offering to beat up the unknown laugh), Megumi rolls his eyes and Yuuji looks at the garden, confused. That's where Toge-senpai is, right? Slowly, they walk towards it.

The closer they are, the clearer the laughs are; no, they don't know this voice... do they? Megumi frowns, it feels familiar... he lets a small sigh escapes— Not a sigh. He laughed through his nose. Quickly, he looks at Yuuji and Nobara— They're both smiling and chuckling with big eyes, like they don't know what the hell is happening. Megumi has an idea... but surely, it can't be..? He opens the door leading right to the garden.

Toge, blissfully unaware for once, is still crying and giggling, keeping his teeth together to prevent more sounds from escaping— Laughing like this feels weird. In a good way, though.

Behind him, the first-years watch with big, confused smiles on their faces. It takes another giggle from Toge, one that makes him swing backwards a bit, for them to understand. Ah, he's just watching a funny video.

Megumi rolls his eyes again, Nobara sighs, and Yuuji smiles— Bigger than before. They're all smiling, to be fair. Better that than crying, right?

"Inumaki-senpai—" Megumi tries to suppress the (not really) fake joy in his tone as he taps Toge in the back.

Toge jumps up, surprised, and lets out a small scream— Nope, he's still laughing. And he can't stop, apparently.

This makes Yuuji burst out laughing, soon followed by Nobara as Megumi tries very hard to breathe through his nose and not make a sound. At this point, they don't know if it's still Toge's cursed speech acting on them.

Toge tries to apologise but is still laughing, louder than before, even grabbing his stomach and bending in half, turning around, covering his mouth, yet still laughing so heartedly. His earbuds and phone are laying on the grass.

Yuuji and Nobara immediately go up to him to pat his back. "No no, keep going!" Yuuji cheers him up, "Yeah, show us what's so funny!" Nobara insists with a snort.

"What the hell is going on—"

Megumi looks up to the three idiots and sees Maki, who clearly wishes she was anywhere else. Yup, you're next, Megumi thinks, and a laugh escapes him right after.

"No way, no fucking way, no— You stop that immediately, Inumaki!" Maki yells, but it's too late: she's smiling.

"Come on, Maki!" Nobara pouts— She actually can't with the grin on her face, but she tries nonetheless. "One of us! One of us!"

"One of us! One of us!" Yuuji repeats in unison.

As Maki screams-laughs, Megumi feels a hand on his shoulder. Not a hand: a paw. Panda. His senpai lowers himself just enough to be at Megumi's ear level. With mischief in his voice, he whispers:

"Toge's very ticklish."

Who knew Megumi could wear such a devilish smile?

As Toge is trying very hard to stiffle his laughs with his two hands against his mouth (leaving every sensitive area exposed, Megumi thinks), the porcupine head impishly calls:

"Oi, Itadori! Kugisaki!"

"One of u— Yeaaah?" they both reply, still in unison.

Sorry, Maki. If we go down, you too.

"Senpai is very, very ticklish."

".. Fushiguro, I swear on every single thing in existence that if you do that, I will—" Maki starts, but it's too late. Charlie's Angels— Panda's Devils, sorry, have already moved to torture their senpai.

When he feels three pairs of hands tickling him, Toge lets out a high-pitched scream-laugh and falls on the grass. Maki and Panda burst out laughing, even though the former is also pretending she's playfully kicking Toge.

"Take off his shoes!" Nobara exclaims, and Panda's already on it despite Toge trying to squirm away, "Raise his arms! Yuuji, Megumi! You'll tickle his armpits!"

"Why us?!" Megumi whines with a smile.

"You dare disobey my orders?" Nobara growls, and she looks a bit like an oni with that face. "I'm busy with his neck!"

They all kept bullying Toge like this until Yaga yelled at them to "stop this circus instantly" (he had a scowl and a grin on his face. Terrifying).

They eventually all laid on the grass, out of breath, until Yuuji asked:

"What was so funny, anyway?"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk scenarios #toge #inumaki toge #toge inumaki #toge headcanons #toge scenarios #toge imagines #megumi #nobara #maki #yuuji #yuji #jujutsu kaisen panda #jjk panda #atlas posts #atlas writes #atlas headcanons #atlas imagines

[chenziee]

Hopeless

No I don't keep forgetting to post these, whatever do you mean?

This is the first of the five pieces I did for @truffyfest! This one is for @nimudae's adorable prompt #164:

Law tells Onigiri all about his crush on Luffy and Onigiri decides he's going to be the best wingdog a pet can be and get them together

Don't forget to check out the full free Truffy fest zine!

[ Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi ]

----------

It wouldn't be an overstatement to say Onigiri knew everything about Law. He knew what time Law woke up, so he knew exactly when to start stepping impatiently next to his bed, begging for his walk. He knew what time he came back from school, so he knew when to start barking at his food bowl, asking for lunch. Not only was Onigiri observant and a great listener, patiently letting Law rant and ramble on and on about his day, school, music, his friends, and his annoying uncle Doffy… he was also neither blind nor stupid.

And so when Law had sat him down one evening, looking all nervous and jittery as he started explaining how he recently realised his feelings for one of his classmates might not be as platonic as he thought, Onigiri wasn’t surprised.

Instead, it left him flabbergasted that it took Law until now to figure that out.

After all, Law was nothing if not completely obvious when it came to Monkey D. Luffy—or Straw Hat-ya. Honestly, what did Law think the cute nicknames were about? Why did he think he ended up blushing whenever Luffy would tell him how cool his outfit for the day was? Why he kept texting him until the wee hours of the morning after promising Cora-san he’d go to sleep early this time every single day? Or why he made Onigiri’s walks longer than necessary every time just so they could pass by the convenience store where Luffy was part-timing? Or—

Onigiri might not have been stupid but sometimes… Sometimes, he had to wonder whether his master was.

As Law babbled on and on about how pointless things like love were (they were not), how senseless falling for ‘that absolute idiot of all people’ was (look who’s talking), and how there was no way Straw Hat-ya even felt the same way (he didn’t even have words for that one), Onigiri came to a decision. 

Seeing how completely hopeless Law was, someone else was going to have to take charge.

Onigiri didn’t have any matchmaking experience—if you didn’t count those two cats he purposely chased onto the same tree last month—but he’d be damned if he had to listen to this love-sick mess of a word-vomit more than once.

----------

Onigiri got to work the very same day. It wasn’t hard dragging Law to Luffy’s neighbourhood since Law always gravitated there without seemingly even thinking about it; the hard part was getting this idiot to actually meet Luffy while there, not just steal glances while he led Onigiri around the grocery store three times. But Onigiri was nothing if not resourceful.

And by that he meant he sat by the door to the store and barked until Luffy noticed them.

“What are you doing?” Law hissed quietly, sounding nearly panicked when Luffy looked their way. 

Onigiri simply barked again. Just because he could.

Immediately, the other boy perked up, his usual bright grin spreading on his lips easily as he jumped away from the register, completely abandoning the place—as well as the customer he was in the middle of ringing up—to skip over to them.

“Onigiri! Torao! You’re walking here again? Isn’t it kinda far from your place? Hey, Onigiri, how are you?” Luffy fired one question after the other as he crouched down to scratch Onigiri’s chin.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” Law asked, keeping his voice level while he raised his eyebrow, scolding Luffy. Acting all cool while his gay little heart was undoubtedly racing his chest with happiness. Onigiri almost rolled his eyes at him.

But, Luffy laughed, seemingly finding Law’s fake confidence hilarious. “Eh, it’s fine~” he drew out, looking up at Law with a carefree smile. “I’ve been working for hours, I can take a break once in a while!”

“And how many breaks have you taken so far?” Law asked, unimpressed, before pausing and adding, “And how many snacks have you eaten without paying for them?”

“Hey! I do pay for them!” Luffy protested, a pout finding its way to his lips.

“With your treasure tab?” There was an undeniable hint of laughter in Law’s voice now. “You do know that’s gonna go straight from your paycheck, right?”

“It’s my money anyway,” Luffy grumbled, turning back to Onigiri. He cupped his face in both hands, his pout getting even bigger. “Onigiri, daddy’s being mean to me, tell him something.”

Onigiri blinked. He wasn’t sure if he was glad or upset he couldn’t laugh because if he could… he would be rolling on the floor right then. Luffy said that. Luffy really said that. He really called Law ‘daddy’ without thinking twice about it and that was the best thing that had happened in Onigiri’s life since Cora brought him those turkey treats on Tuesday.

“Daddy?” Law repeated in a broken voice so quiet and so mortified that it made Onigiri want to laugh all over again—he didn’t even have to look at him to know Law was beet red.

“Yeah? You’re Onigiri’s dad, after all.” Luffy tilted his head to the side as he spoke slowly, obviously completely clueless as to why Law reacted like that.

Onigiri really loved this idiot.

Jumping up a little, Onigiri quickly licked Luffy’s face to show his appreciation of his adorable  naivety. Or well, he wasn’t naive; Luffy absolutely knew what ‘daddy’ meant in context… but seeing as he never bothered to think before opening his mouth and even then not really thinking about what just came out of it and thus completely missing his own accidental innuendos…

And poor Law was usually on the receiving end of these too.

On second thought, was it really completely on accident or just subconscious flirting?

Who knew? What Onigiri did know was that these two needed to kiss already.

“Hey, kid! Can you actually do your job here?!” the completely forgotten customer called from inside the store, understandably completely annoyed. Somehow, it was a wonder he wasn’t yelling and demanding to see a manager…

But there were more important things happening here, okay?

Still, Onigiri took a step back from Luffy, barking once as he returned to Law’s side while the two humans said their own goodbyes, the both of them lingering for a few moments too long to be considered normal and Onigiri shook his little head.

Hopeless idiots, the both of them.

It might have been Friday afternoon… but they would hold hands by the week’s end if Onigiri had anything to say about it.

----------

The next order of business was to actually get them together. That was considerably harder than simply forcing them to meet but Onigiri did have a plan.

Like every Saturday, Law took Onigiri to the large park to play. And like every Saturday, they passed by the cinema right next to it. Onigiri couldn’t exactly read but he knew that whatever posters were hanging in the front, those movies were still playing. Quickly scanning the pictures one by one, Onigiri huffed in satisfaction when he found the one he was looking for. It was still up. Good. That concluded stage one of his plan.

Stage two—make sure Luffy was where he was supposed to be.

It was a warm, sunny day and Luffy hated staying indoors to begin with so Onigiri was pretty sure he would be hanging out at the park as well. He usually did on days like this; it was the most nature in the city and Luffy loved the place about as much as Onigiri and Law did, so unless he forgot he had a family trip planned—wouldn’t be the first time—chances were high he would be there somewhere. But the problem was actually finding him without making Law suspicious.

Being a dog came in handy in situations like this, however. Asking to play fetch as an excuse to wander, using his sensitive nose to sniff out the distinctive smell of meat mixed with the sun and Luffy’s own scent. Onigiri had no idea how Luffy managed to smell that way all the time, but he wasn’t exactly complaining—not when after minutes of searching, he finally caught the trail of said distinctive scent.

Onigiri grabbed the ball and took off—fetching it… but not for Law. Instead, he ran in the opposite direction, letting his nose guide him until Luffy came to view. He was sitting on a picnic blanket, waving his hands around animatedly as he talked to his friends, a ginger-haired girl and a green-haired boy. Onigiri was pretty sure their names were Namu and Zori but Law hardly spoke about anyone outside his own friend circle aside from Luffy so he wasn’t entirely positive.

But this wasn’t about them.

Onigiri ran up to Luffy, barking happily around the ball in his mouth to catch his attention.

“Onigiri!” Luffy called when he noticed him, a wide grin appearing on his face as he reached out with one hand to gesture for the small dog to come closer.

Onigiri easily complied—after all, that was the whole point of him coming—before he dropped the ball into Luffy’s lap.

“Where’s Torao?” Luffy asked then. He was turning every which way, searching the park for Onigiri’s owner like an idiot with a crush. Which was exactly what he was.

“Aw, this is Torao’s dog? How cute!” the girl cooed, her voice full of excitement and adoration. As it should be; Onigiri was adorable and he knew it, thank you very much.

“Yeah!” Luffy said proudly. “Nami, Zoro, this is Onigiri. Say hi, Onigiri!”

Ah. So those were their names. Close enough.

Barking in greeting, Onigiri sniffed the both of them, remembering their scents—sweat and steel for Zoro and for Nami, tangerines and… money? Why did everyone in Luffy’s group smell so weird? It was a mystery.

No point dwelling on it, Onigiri thought. It was time to proceed to stage three of the Grand Plan.

Onigiri turned back to Luffy, nudging the ball in his lap with nose, wagging his tail and barking excitedly to manipula— prompt Luffy into tossing it for him.

Luffy laughed, rubbing Onigiri’s head. “You want me to toss it for you, do you?” he asked teasingly, waving the ball in front of Onigiri’s face.

The dog barked again, getting impatient; what was Luffy playing at? It was only a matter of time before Law found them, there wasn’t time.

“Okay okay!” Luffy finally stood up, tossing the ball in his hand a few times as an evil smile appeared on his lips and he took a stance, getting ready to throw the ball as far as he could.

Just as well, Onigiri thought. The further the better.

The moment the ball left Luffy’s hand, Onigiri took off, chasing after it… but the ball wasn’t his goal. Instead, he sprinted right past it, running at full speed with purpose. Soon, he passed through the park’s gate and crossed the street—only after the light turned green, of course—rushing to his destination; he ignored the startled cries of the people he passed, not slowing down until he reached the cinema. He quickly grabbed what he came for before turning around and sprinting back the way he came.

He was completely out of breath when he finally made it back to where Luffy and his friends were sitting. He wasn’t surprised to see Law already there, looking close to a mental breakdown at having lost sight of his beloved dog while Luffy tried his best to comfort and reassure him—at least that was what it looked like but it was hard to tell when Law was just looking more and more frustrated while on the other hand, Luffy seemed to be struggling to hold back carefree laughter.

“Onigiri! You little shit, where did you go?!” Law asked angrily when he noticed the dog running over.

Ignoring his master for now, Onigiri went straight to Luffy, dropping the item he had brought in front of him before flopping to the ground with exhaustion, panting loudly. Man, why was he so tired? The cinema was so close… He supposed it was the adrenalin of racing with time, trying to get back before Law found them…

“Hm? What’s this?” Luffy asked with confusion, picking up the cinema’s programme pamphlet.

Stage three—complete.

Onigiri sighed deeply. It was going well… so far. The rest really mostly depended on at least one of them not being a complete idiot.

Which was, admittedly, a difficult hurdle to overcome.

“This movie… Where did I see this?” Luffy wondered out loud, his face scrunched up into a deep frown as he studied the picture of an animated superhero, his robot side-kick, and pet seagull. Onigiri was honestly surprised there wasn’t steam rising from his head with how hard he was thinking.

What did he say about someone needing to not be stupid?

Maybe he should just give up if they were both going to be like this…

“Hey, isn’t that the seagull that Torao wears on his bag?” Nami asked, pointing at the bird in the corner and in that moment, she looked like a goddess in Onigiri’s eyes.

Luffy’s eyes lit up in recognition at her words. “Oh! This is ‘Sora, Warrior of the Sea’?! You never showed me what it looked like but Toaro, isn’t this your favourite manga?! Have you seen this movie yet?!” he asked, turning to look at Law with something akin to stars in his eyes.

Oh, thank god.

Onigiri barely finished the thought when a tell-tale click came from behind him. Did he really—

Whipping his head around, Onigiri glared at Law. He was kneeling behind him with Onigiri’s leash in hand as if to incriminate himself of his crime and Onigiri bared his teeth at him.

“Don’t you growl at me, you brat. I’m not the one who ran off to fuck knows where!” Law snapped, tugging at the leash for good measure to remind the dog his movements were now severely limited. As if he were a dumb hamster who couldn’t find his way back once he left his cage.

Rude.

And here Onigiri was, working his ass off and doing Law’s damn job for him.

“Torao!” Luffy called impatiently.

“What?” Law hissed, tearing his eyes away from Onigiri to shoot a dirty look at Luffy. Onigiri almost felt bad for causing Luffy to take collateral damage…

Luffy didn’t seem phased, however, only showing Law the pamphlet where his favourite hero of all time stood proudly, pointing at it eagerly. “Have you seen this movie?!”

Law was quiet for a too-long moment, seemingly weighing his options before he opened his mouth to slowly reply, “I haven’t.”

If Onigiri could, he would have raised his eyebrows at Law because really? Did he not want to admit he had seen the movie four times already so he didn’t seem like the complete nerd he was? How ridiculous—as if Luffy didn’t know he was a hopeless Sora fanboy already. 

But actually… this played right into Onigiri’s paws.

“Oh! Wanna go see it?” Luffy asked, blinking up at Law with his big, innocent eyes.

Onigiri was pretty sure the strangled squeak he heard was Law going through some kind of gay panic at the sight. “Why would I want to—”

“Ehh?” Luffy drew out, a small pout on his lips as he tilted his head to the side to stare up at Law—only worsening the trembles in Law’s little heart. “But you like this! Come see it with me, come on!”

“Don’t go saying stupid shit, you sound like you’re asking me on a—”

“On a… what?” Luffy asked with a confused frown when Law didn’t finish his sentence.

Idiots…

“Idiots,” Nami sighed as she face palmed, perfectly mirroring Onigiri’s thoughts. A kindred soul, sharing Onigiri’s suffering.

“They’re both completely hopeless,” Zoro added.

Before either Law or Luffy could say anything, Nami punched his shoulder instead. “You have no right to talk,” she hissed. “Do you know how hard me and Robin worked to force you and Sanji to stop dancing around each other like a couple of morons?”

“Shut up! Who asked you to do that anyway?!” Zoro protested as he slapped her hand away.

“It was painful to watch!”

As the two continued to bicker, Luffy simply shrugged and shook his head, seemingly used to it, before he turned back to Law. “So about the movie…”

“What about it?” Law asked quietly, defensively, as his eyes turned away. Probably unable to keep looking at Luffy’s face without agreeing to anything that came out of his mouth.

Onigiri sighed. That was it for stage four, he supposed. Time for stage four-point-five.

Before Law could react and pull on his leash to stop him, Onigiri jumped to his feet and took off; he circled around Luffy sitting on the blanket, then back around Law, only to then dash forward at full speed, tugging on his leash until he heard the surprised yelps and fumbling as Law stumbled forward and towards Luffy from where the leash tangled around his knees.

“What the fuck is this, 101 Dalmatians?!” Law groaned, sounding torn between angry and painfully embarrassed while Luffy just laughed, catching Law to make sure he didn’t trip over him and break his neck.

Onigiri barked once, looking Law straight in the eyes when he slowly walked back to the two of them, sitting right in front of the cinema pamphlet that fell out of Luffy’s hand in their tumbling.

“I think the dog is trying to tell you two something,” Zoro said with a raised eyebrow, his fight with Nami forgotten.

“You fucking think?” Law asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Just go see the stupid movie, what’s the harm?” Nami joined in, sounding about as tired of their shit as Onigiri felt.

“It’s not stupid, it’s great!” Law snapped immediately.

“Oh, so you have seen it,” the girl said, an evil smirk on her lips as she teased Law without mercy.

Onigiri barked in a canine version of a laugh; he really liked this girl.

“I guess it’s decided then!” Luffy announced with a happy grin. “The programme said there’s a showing in an hour, let’s go!”

Law visibly froze, looking between Onigiri and Luffy like a deer in headlights as he tried to process what was happening. “Are you actually serious?”

“Yes.”

“Bark!”

“Are you stupid? I can’t go anywhere, I have Onigiri with me—”

“We’ll watch him, just go have fun,” Nami interrupted him and, as if to prove her point, she got up on her knees, carefully picking Onigiri up and unhooking his leash to free the two boys of its hold. Once done, she pried it out of Law’s hands before clasping it back to Onigiri’s collar. Finally, she sat back down on the picnic blanket, placing Onigiri in her lap and scratching him behind the ears.

Onigiri didn’t fight the temptation to lean into her touch, her slightly longer, perfectly manicured nails feeling like heaven in his fur.

“See? We’re all good,” she said happily… but Onigiri couldn’t help but feel like there was a hint of a threat in her voice.

“How much are you going to charge me for this?” Law asked, even though he sounded resigned to his fate at this point.

Nami smiled in response… and even Onigiri felt a chill run down his spine.

“Oh, I won’t charge anything. As long as you have fun. Got it?”

“Yessir!” Luffy cried, completely terrified. As if he could imagine exactly what would happen to him if he didn’t listen to her.

And just like that, both Law and Luffy were basically chased away, leaving Onigiri behind with Nami and Zoro, and thus ending stage four-point-five.

Now… with stage five commencing…

They could only hope for the best.

“You have it hard, man,” Zoro said once the two of them were completely out of sight, throwing Onigiri a sympathetic look.

Nami hummed in agreement. “If they don’t come out of the cinema holding hands, I swear I’m charging them by the minute of that stupid movie. And then we’re locking them in Mihawk’s hearse until they figure it out.”

“Hey!” Zoro cried. “Use your sister’s goddamned truck, you want me to get killed?!”

“Oh please, the worst Mihawk would do to you is refuse to drive you anywhere,” Nami noted with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, and then I would have to ask Perona to drive me and that is a death sentence!”

“Don’t be a baby,” Nami said flatly. “If you could walk in a straight line without getting lost, you wouldn’t have to rely on your family or Sanji to chaperone you everywhere. And also—” she paused, her eyes narrowing dangerously— “you still owe me money for the restaurant reservations for yours and Sanji’s date last month so don’t try to get out of this.”

“I paid you back, you witch!” Zoro cried.

Nami huffed, waving her hand dismissively, “Ever heard of interest?”

“You’re impossible. Why do I suffer you?” the boy groaned, rubbing at his forehead.

Nami huffed as she tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “Because I’m so cute!”

“Compared to what, a trash can?”

Somehow, Onigiri wasn’t even surprised when Nami’s fist flew forward to punch Zoro full force in the shoulder, her teeth bared as wrath radiated off of her. 

Ah.

Now Onigiri could see why Luffy jumped to attention the very second he felt the slightest hint of hostility from her. This girl was terrifying.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Onigiri. Did the stupid swordsman scare you?” Nami cooed at him, when she noticed how he crouched and huddled into her lap to protect himself.

“Pretty sure he’s scared of you,” Zoro muttered quietly.

Nami took a deep breath, only shooting Zoro a dirty look to which the man simply raised his arms in surrender. Apparently satisfied, Nami turned back to Onigiri. “Don’t worry, no matter what happens, I am forcing Torao and Luffy to buy you as many tasty treats as you want for doing their damn job for them.”

----------

As Onigiri laid on his bed at home a week later, chewing on a fresh, tasty bone that Luffy had brought him when he came over to see his boyfriend— much to Cora’s delight and Doffy’s amusement—he couldn’t help but thank Nami in his mind for keeping her word. He didn’t remember ever getting this many treats, not even from Cora when Law wasn’t looking.

He supposed with this…

He could declare stage five concluded, and his Grand Plan a raging success.

Whatever would these hopeless humans do without him?

#one piece #lawlu #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #luffy #monkey d luffy #opfanfic #lawlu fanfic #nimudae #modern au #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #fluff and humor #outsider pov #onigiri #op onigiri #truffy fest #katie pretends to fic #why do my modern aus always do so bad? #it's a mystery xD #OH WELL #ahahha

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ego, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, very brief mentions of yoongi x reader

summary: On the cusp of death (read: hangover), someone recounts the events of last night to you. It sounds serious, but it's not. All you did was fuck Jeon Jungkook on Min Yoongi's bed. Wait, you did WHAT?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; no explicit smut, just descriptions of questionable... acts; heavy alcohol consumption; (adult) crack; possibly? friends-to-lovers

I thought about not posting this bc it's only comedic depravity but it made me laugh so I figured maybe someone else might laugh too XD

--

“I… regret living.”

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

Light? Horrible. Sound? Distorted. Ow. Pain? Composed a thousand scorpions repeatedly stabbing you in the head or at least the fucking felt like that. And were your sleep paralysis demons holding you down or were you really so tired that you could barely move? Oh. No, it was just someone laying on top of you. A wave of oh fuck shimmered through your internal organs.

“I’m gonna throw up,” you wheezed.

“You better fucking not, because this is my bed,” the familiar raspy voice scolded you. “Also, need I remind you that you hate throwing up.”

Couldn’t argue with that. You fought back the tumultuous wave with several shaky breaths. A straw poked you on the lips. Ow.

“Drink.”

You drank.

What was the liquid? Only the gods knew. Maybe the demons too. You drank without question despite common sense shaking its head at you. Crawling back from death wasn’t easy, okay? The struggle was real. You felt a hand slip under the back of your head and lift it. Oh, very helpful. Long fingers, graceful touch, firm pressure. Familiar. Huh. Raspy voice.

Min Yoongi.

You almost spat, but your blurry vision suddenly cleared to slim pale face and pointed dark brown eyes fiercely glaring, daring you to do something so rude. You did not, perhaps out of sheer fear and shock. Such emotions did wonders (and fuck-ups) to the body. Yoongi sat back up, tossing his head to swish back his long black hair, and placed the glass of misty water on his nightstand, next to the torn-open foil packets. Oh, how nice of him. Hangover meds.

Next to a pile of condoms.

Your eyes widened.

Unopened.

You mistakenly relaxed.

“You fucked Jeon Jungkook on my bed last night.”

Your eyes went full dinner-plates.

Massive-peepers mode.

You choked on nothing but your own shame, which happened to be a whole lot all of sudden.

“WHAT?”

“Actually, fucked is a strong word for what transpired,” Yoongi remarked coolly, looking disturbingly handsome with his messy bedhead, loose black t-shirt, and matching cotton pajama pants. Disturbing because it felt like he was about to describe something deranged. “Got naked and rolled around in the sheets like caught fish, complete with increasing, inexplicable wetness as more time transpired.”

You couldn’t compute anything since your head felt like it was being hammered into an anvil similar to those old-school cartoons, but you could feel the inexplicable urge to, ahem, fuckin’ yeet yourself from this situation. You tried to flail about in attempt to run except Yoongi’s legs were on top of your hips, pinning you in place. While he may look like a scrawny guy, he was not. Tal and slender, yes. Physically weak? Surprisingly not. Also, he reached over and pressed the top of the blanket to your naked chest.

To.

Your.

NAKED?!!

Chest.

Your nipples, for some idiotic reason, were hard and rubbing against his soft duvet – they absolutely did not understand timing. You grimaced and fall back, trying to fuse with the pile of pillows as Yoongi calmly let go and continued with mortifying you in the most deadpan voice possible.

“I believe various body parts went into various holes and then I had to intervene with the condoms, but thankfully – or not thankfully depending on how you look at it – I don’t think either of you noticed that he was unable to finish considering you were both black-out drunk. What you don’t know can’t disappoint you.”

???

“Y… You just told me…?” you croaked.

Yoongi hummed. “I assumed you would want to know why you’re naked and half-dead on my bed without Jeon Jungkook. Although, you are right. Maybe I should have asked if you wanted to know that you smacked him down spread-eagle on and proceeded to lick him all over like a starving dog with their empty food bowl.”

…

You had never thought you would welcome Death, but you welcomed him now. Like, right now. Death, please grant me a heart attack so I don’t have to listen to Min Yoongi describing what he witnessed with visceral detail. Please. PLEASE. You did not die. You felt like you were dying, but you did not die, because of course you wouldn’t. That would free you from–

“Then he proceeded to jack off onto your face, missed, got it in your hair and forehead, then he licked it off and you sucked it out of his mouth. Oh, I guess that means he definitely orgasmed.”

You passed away.

Not actually.

That would be too merciful.

“Y… Yoongi,” you coughed. “Why the fuck were you here?”

“Excuse me?” Raised eyebrow, unamused expression. “This is my bedroom. I’m the one allowed to be here.”

Fair point.

“And you told me to keep an eye on you since this was your first time seriously drinking.”

“K… Keep an eye… means not letting me fuck Jeon Jungkook on your bed!” Instant pain. Oh, shit, too much emotion. Your neck jerked erratically and you groaned, sipping once again as Yoongi and the glass of bliss reappeared.

“Oh,” Yoongi tutted.

Oh.

OH?!?!

You sipped and decided this was the moment. This was the end. You had lived enough life. Curiosity killed the cat after all, and being someone who never drank, you had become too curious about how you would act when drunk. Why not? Live fast, die young, right? You could only be young and dumb once (actually, no, the latter multiple times if you were shameless enough). But you figured this kind of decision was much better to do as your own personal experiment rather than in an environment being pressured by others. No party. Just you, Min Yoongi, and bottles.

Annnd his roommate in the background.

Kim Seokjin. Nice dude. Very tall. Loved games more than most people, probably (valid). Surprisingly chill in a one-on-one conversation (did that mean you were even more energetic than he was?). Worldwide handsome (everyone said so and you accepted that kind of peer pressure). Yeah, go ahead. Use the kitchen. Oh, but that night he was going to invite a couple friends over to eat pizza and play games. Sure, sure. No big deal. Just five other guys besides Seokjin, chilling in the living room and having fun playing Just Dance. All the best vibes. They would come into the kitchen and offer their two cents about your alcohol adventure before going back to the group. Everyone had been mindful and respectful.

You stared into Min Yoongi’s eyes.

He stared back, emotionless.

One might ask, why implore Yoongi for assistance? Because he knew about alcohol and he was only interested in the good stuff. You can get drunk like trash or you can get drunk like royalty. That was a way to look at it, yeah. You could get behind that. You were also very sure that Yoongi would not take advantage. If he wanted to fuck, he would say so to your sober, unhinged self. Not to your drunk, extra unhinged self. It had happened before.

What?

Anyway.

Yoongi removed the straw from your lips and placed the empty glass onto the nightstand. Then he heaved up a large jug of water from the floor and refilled the glass as he calmly asked his question. You stared at him, impressed by this display of power that would not have impressed you if you were less hung over, but any feat of strength was amazing to your swirly brain right now.

“Haven’t you been making googly eyes at Jeon Jungkook or am I mistaken?”

Jeon Jungkook? Yes, of course, he was there. Unlike the others, he got distracted by the bottles and the education presented by alcohol professor Min Yoongi, who had been wearing his black, half-rimmed glasses, of course. Education required him to look the part (not really, Yoongi had been feeling lazy). One moment, you were listening intently and then suddenly you found curious, bright-eyed cuteness sitting next to you and sipping from your cup as you tasted the various poisons. He was not your focus, so you let him do whatever. This was not because you did not think tattooed, pierced, mole-kissed Jeon Jungkook was not hot. Quite the opposite, actually.

You were simply focused on the mission and that mission was a baaaaaaad decision.

Also, Yoongi would become annoyed if you stopped paying attention to him since he was doing you a favor. He would rap you with his knuckles for losing concentration. Jungkook bounced in his seat next to you as you pointed to one of the glasses.

“I like this one.”

“I would not take another sip of that scotch if I were you.”

“You’re not my dad, Yoongi. And you’re not me, because then you would know that telling me I can’t do something is gonna make me want to do it more,” you huffed, taking the small glass and drinking the rest of the dark-colored liquid. You did not wince, because there was something nice about pain and because you had an ego.

Hah.

Yoongi had handed you water. “Didn’t say you couldn’t. Just said I wouldn’t.”

“Wow, that was so cool. Let me try some!”

You were already pouring Jungkook some while verbally prodding at Yoongi some more. “Oh, yeah? Why not, huh? Scared?” So arrogant. For who? Literally nobody but you. You didn’t care what Yoongi thought and you barely registered Jungkook next to you. You were too busy being fiercely possessed by this new fragile power. Your vision was gaining fuzzy edges, foreshadowing what was to come.

Yoongi had only smiled.

“You’ll see.”

You’ll see.

Joke was on Yoongi. You didn’t end up seeing or remembering jack shit.

“I do not make googly eyes at Jeon Jungkook,” you retorted, feeling your blood violently pump into your skull in your attempt to hold your head up to glare at Yoongi. Sheer willpower was keeping you alive. “I just think he has a–”

Yoongi immediately interjected.

“Nice, big, thick…”

Dramatic pause.

“Personality?”

You narrowed your eyes. Actually, that helped the pounding. Less light attacked your retinas this way.

“I think I hate you.”

And here Yoongi went on again with his feline indifference. “I’ll give you a couple more details and then you can make a more informed decision.”

You closed your eyes and groaned. In pain. Both physical and metaphorical.

“I don’t wanna know–”

Number of fucks given? Zero. “So, after taking all those shots and Jungkook trying to two-up you.” Chill? Yoongi had none. “I decide that’s enough and start putting the alcohol away, leaving the two of you to giggle at the kitchen island and compliment each other’s eyes.” He made a disgruntled, scrunched-up face. “Disgusting.”

You gagged and it wasn’t because you were nauseous. Well, you were, but not bodily. At this point anyway. You kept your eyes closed. He’s not speaking. I do not see it. If I do not see it, it’s not real. You kept telling yourself that. It wasn’t helping.

“Stop,” you grunted.

Yoongi did not stop. Didn’t his parents and the internet teach him about consent? “I turn around and you’re climbing his body like he’s a fuckin’ pillar of our nation while he faceplants himself into your tits,” he continued, completely monotone as if this was a calculus lecture and not the story of how you and Jeon Jungkook ended up drunkenly rolling about in Min Yoongi’s sheets. “It was when the clothes started coming off that I figured I should speak up and remind you the kitchen island is for a different kind of eating.”

You didn’t even bother to open your eyes but you were very sure he was staring accusingly at you, but what you didn’t see didn’t exist, or at least that was what fellow idiots liked to say. “You should have pried me off him,” you muttered.

“I distinctly remember you telling me, quote, you’re not my dad.”

Yoongi was definitely not, otherwise you would not have said yes to that time when he asked sober, unhinged you if you wanted to fuck.

What?

Anyway.

“Also,” he added, about to say something that was probably very unnecessary. “I knew it was time to leave the kitchen when you told me to hold your wrists so Jungkook could take off your panties. I politely declined, stating that if hyung walked in right then, he would literally die of a heart attack and I need him to help pay rent.” Yup, not necessary information. Glad he had no interest in killing Kim Seokjin though. Seokjin was a very sweet man. “So, I told you that unless you want to pick up the slack, you’ll have to go somewhere else to boink. Where did you go?”

Oh, God.

“Yes, upstairs to hyung’s room. And yes, you do owe me big time dragging you out of there and shoving you two in here instead.”

That would have been… very uncomfortable. And many things would need to be replaced in the aftermath. Kim Seokjin’s room was full of expensive figurines and limited-edition items. That would have been expensive. At least Yoongi had seen you naked already. Plus, there was some story about Yoongi wearing Jungkook’s (clean) underwear a couple years ago. There must be some closeness between them as friends.

You opened your eyes blearily, seeing Yoongi’s relaxed form sitting at the end of the bed, holding the straw out of the way as he drank water from the glass.

“T… Thanks…”

He glanced at you. Dark brown eyes shrouded by black strands and dark circles. Upper lip ever so slightly upturned in disapproval but overall expression general feline indifference.

Very Yoongi.

“The weird bit was when you and Jungkook told me to stand at the end of the bed while he railed you from behind.”

You closed your eyes again.

“Made me think I should fuck you in front of a mirror, ‘cause apparently you’re a freak.”

“Not as much of a freak as you for watching,” you retorted.

“And let you two puke on each other instead?”

Touché.

“I like my mattress, so, no, thank you.”

What was suffering but listening to Yoongi’s reasonable logic? Sigh. Your face scrunched. Hold on. Something wasn’t adding up. You were here, in Yoongi’s bedroom, listening to him recounting the events of last night while living in a half-life, a cursed life (maybe if you called the hangover that, it would be more bearable) and yet there was a clear space next to you that was completely and utterly empty. You frowned. Opened your eyes, discarding all previous annoyance you had towards Yoongi, snapping your head towards him. His gaze immediately shifted. Locked with yours. Strands of black framing his face, intense and serious.

Electric silence.

“Did… did Jeon Jungkook just fuck me and leave?!”

You might have yelled, but your body was not allowing that bullshit right now. You ended up very sternly wheezing. Nice!

Yoongi tilted his head. “Oh, no. He slept next to you all night. He woke up before you, right there.” He reached over and patted the area right next to you. “Holding your tits and everything.”

This was starting to sound suspicious.

“And I was here.” The Devil, er, rather, Min Yoongi, motioned to the other side of your body, looking peeved. “Barely slept myself with the weird ass noises you two were making. Apparently, you snore when drunk. Impressive lung capacity. Anyway, I had to make sure nobody choked on their vomit while asleep. You should thank me.”

You did not.

You just made another displeased huff.

Yoongi kept talking as if he expected this response. “Jungkook woke up, looked right at me. Looked at you.” He spoke calmly and deliberately, on purpose. Ass. “Then, he ran.” Yoongi thoughtfully chewed on the side of his lip. “His face was pretty red,” he added.

You closed your eyes again. I do not see. “I should have woken up…”

“You were dead and required more resurrection technique than he did. Possible that he wasn’t as drunk as you were and remembered more of what happened. I doubt he got far though, because the second he left the room, he yelped, I heard a crash, and then Hoseok started yelling, so I got up and closed the door.”

You half-laughed and your brain hurt. Guess Jung Hoseok must have stayed over. Great. Another person who knew what happened between you and Jungkook. Awesome. “Why didn’t you help him?”

Yoongi’s reply was, once again, logical.

“You’d be worse off without me.”

A moment of silence.

Mostly for your dignity.

Okay, okay, enough about that.

“Yoongi, I’m… dying.”

“You should eat. I can make you some kimchi fried rice. Or pan-fried tteokbokki. That would probably be good.”

You almost sat up, but then you remembered you were naked. Oop. Also getting up was a bit of a feat without intense emotion. At this point, Yoongi had already gotten up to fetch his slippers while you hobbled and clawed your way up from the mattress like a horror movie creature, all while hugging his blankets to your body.

“Where… are my clothes?”

“On the chair. I washed them.”

You felt a little sick and not because you were hung over. “Oh shit, did I puke on myself? In front of you and Jungkook. Shit. I’m so fucking sorry–”

“No. I just thought you might want some clean clothes.”

“… Oh.”

“Also, we don’t stock panties in this household, so the only way you can get clean ones is to do laundry.”

Haaaah…

“… Don’t say it.”

Yoongi kept his back turned as you wormed your way over to the chair of neatly folded clothes. “Say what?” Very calm. Too calm.

“You know what.”

“That your panties were filthy and soaked?”

A muscle above your eye twitched.

“I don’t hate you. I loathe you.”

“It seems that Jungkook had an intense effect on you.” Deadpan, monotone. Yoongi might as well have been discussing how to find the area beneath a function. Except he wasn’t talking about math. He was being an asshat.

“Loathe entirely,” you hissed, yanking on your clothes.

-

“Oh, hey! You stayed over? How are you? You look rested. Oh, hyung, I have to leave now. I have rehearsals, but I ordered some food that’s on its way right now. Kimchi fried rice and potato soup. Seokjin-hyung’s absolutely dead in his room, so I wouldn’t bother him. He’s getting old, haha!”

Jung Hoseok’s kilowatt, heart-shaped smile shone brighter than most people’s futures. Probably including yours. You had to squint and mumble some kind of response as you attempted endure the embodiment of the living sun that was this golden, tan, bouncy morning person. Could not relate, especially right now. Thankfully Yoongi was doing the talking and thanking. What would you do without him? Not be drunk and be blissfully asleep at home.

Well.

It wasn’t Yoongi’s fault you got drunk.

That was your fault.

No, it’s my ego’s fault!

(No, it was definitely your fault.)

Fuck.

You formed a wobbly thumbs-up to Hoseok as he patted your head and laughed, telling you that you were cute, which was very nice of him but you did not believe it considering that you felt like a sack of potatoes thrown down seventy flights of stairs, but. You know. Hoseok was a nice guy. He would never tell you that you did not look cute out of the goodness of his heart.

You gave him another weak-ass thumbs-up as Hoseok waved from the front door and bounded off into the sunshine.

“How does he do it?” you sighed in awe.

“No idea,” Yoongi hummed, nodding. “He–”

Both of you heard a noise. It sounded like someone colliding with kitchen cabinets. Instead of being startled, both you and Yoongi scurried towards the noise, which very much explained why people died or horror movies – or survived, depending on what you both did upon entering the kitchen and assessing the situation.

Thankfully, the ghost was not a ghost.

“Jungkook?”

The young man leaning over the white kitchen sink had long, wavy black hair, a strong jawline, and plushy cheeks. Cute visible moles on the bridge of his nose, cheek, and under his lower lip. Skin that was usually a light tan but currently a sickly shade of pale green. He was wearing blue cotton long pajamas with tiny adorable angels printed all over them. The shirt was halfway unbuttoned as he held it open and leaned over the sink. The man lifted his head as you said his name. Big dark chocolatey peepers, startled at the intrusion.

Jeon Jungkook croaked something like your name.

Then, he threw up into the sink.

“Ugh, geez, not in front of the lady,” Yoongi chastised, saying the word lady as if it was a very loose label for your current state. Although you were not pleased, you could not protest the truth. “Here let me get you some water and a toothbrush, hah…”

You looked away out of politeness and also because you didn’t want to vomit yourself. Strangely, you felt alright despite definitely not being as fit as Jungkook. Hm, maybe Yoongi had done a good job of taking care of you physically (not mentally, that butthead). You did need to go to the bathroom though after all that hydration. You decided to give Yoongi and Jungkook some privacy as you crab-walked to the downstairs bathroom and emptied your bladder.

You checked the three hairs on your wrist as at least a solid minute went by.

Apparently, your bladder contained a whole goddamn sea, holy fuck.

Anyway, after finishing your business and washing your hands, you left the bathroom for the kitchen to be greeted by semi-shirtless Jungkook sitting at the kitchen island with a big glass of misty water, looking less green and twice as embarrassed. You decided it was time to be the mature one and plopped yourself beside him, patting his back soothingly.

Oh, yeah, and Yoongi was there.

This ain’t about him.

“Hey, you alright? Feel better after barfing?” you quipped.

O-Oh. Word choice there was a little questionable.

Jungkook winced. “Ahahaha… y-yeah…”

You rubbed his back some more. “There, there. I heard food was coming. You’ll feel much better after eating.” You ruffled his black hair. It was nice and soft. He must have showered. “These are Kim Seokjin’s pajamas, right? You didn’t want to get vomit on them, huh? Keke, you’re so considerate, Jungkook. That’s good.” You were talking too much. You were making this awkward. You heard the sizzling of pan-fried tteokbokki. Those big brown eyes were looking everywhere but you. Your mouth was frozen in a politician’s PR smile and you were still rubbing his neck. Jungkook was not stopping you. He was not moving away. His mouth was open. It seemed like he was attempting to form words.

Suddenly, Yoongi appeared with a spatula and spoke directly to you.

“Unlike you, Jungkook remembers everything.”

He disappeared again.

Your hand stopped moving.

Eh?

Birds chirped outside.

Jungkook fixated on a blank spot in the ceiling and didn’t make a peep.

“EHHH?!”

Most people would fling themselves away from the moment but, for some irrational reason, you grabbed Jungkook’s cheeks and shoved his face into your face, shaking his noggin like dehydrated islander checking a fallen coconut.

“You what?”

After his eyeballs stopped rolling in his skull, Jungkook wheezed and slumped in your hands, pulling a long face and puppy expression.

“I… I guess that’s how it is sometimes…”

Well, he was more fit than you. There was probably some difference between the way his body processed alcohol and the way your body processed alcohol. This was your first time. Your body wasn’t used to you willingly poisoning it. Ah, so it made sense. And, oh, what a strange shivery feeling creeping up your legs and back as you held Jungkook’s face. Your fingers fanned his cheeks, smushing them a little, and he was looking back at you, awe and wonderment as if you were different in the light, hey, maybe you didn’t look so bad after all, and then it hit you.

You blinked.

Rapidly.

“Jungkook.”

“Eh?”

“You remember what we did in Yoongi’s room?”

A moment of silence for Jungkook’s dignity.

“A… Ah. Y-Yeah… kinda…? I couldn’t really control myself… b-because I… you… I l-like you…”

You were hearing the sounds he was making but all you could think about was Yoongi saying you pinned Jungkook down and licked him all over like a starving dog. Oh, shit. You slowly let go of his face, feeling the blood drain from your own. Jungkook’s normally strong voice was getting smaller and smaller, until there was no noise at all.

“U… Uh,” you squeaked. “I… I didn’t lick you… right?”

Emotions flashed in his eyes. Apprehension. Confusion. Recognition. Pupils dilating. Definitely knew exactly what you were talking about. Saw the horror in your stricken face. Immediate denial of any recollection in attempt to save your dignity.

“N… No! Did you? N-No, I don’t think, uh, well, I don’t remember such a thing, ahah–”

There was a clatter of a heavily loaded plate and a sudden pointed glare of feline indifference appearing between your and Jungkook’s face. Disapproving black-brown orbs looking straight at you. Held your gaze for several long seconds. Turned slowly. You heard Jungkook gulp as Yoongi made deliberate eye contact with the younger man for even longer, even more excruciating seconds.

Then Yoongi slowly retreated and held up two pairs of chopsticks.

“Eat.”

You sat there and ate pan-fried tteokbokki with Jeon Jungkook as Min Yoongi stared you both down from the other side of the kitchen island, wearing a simple black apron and his glasses.

You leaned closer to Jungkook.

“Why is he staring like that?”

Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

“I don’t know. Keep eating.”

You kept eating. It was spicy, hot, and delicious. It was not a very big plate. It was gone in an instant with Jungkook’s ravenous speed and efficiency. He did make sure you had an ample amount though. The doorbell rang.

Yoongi marched away.

You let out a relieved breath and rested your head against Jungkook’s broad shoulder. “Whew. Why did that feel so stressful?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled beside you, drinking from his glass. “Maybe hyung is mad at me for, uh…”

You waved a hand. “Nah. You would be dead already if Yoongi was mad at you. He strikes when you’re weak.” You spoke from the personal experience you had less than twenty minutes ago. “Besides, it’s just sex, it’s not like you like me or anythin–”

Your mouth froze mid-sentence.

The birds outside chittered even louder.

There was a long whistle of echoey wind against the building.

“Y… You already said you liked me earlier,” you hollowly recalled.

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly. “U-Uh, yeah. Like you. Not liked.”

This was the moment that you decided not to overdrink again. Not because you regretted having sex with Jungkook. Absolutely not. Even with Yoongi making you look like an idiot (you were who you were, you could accept that). No, the reason you decided better not do that again was because of the next couple minutes. More sober, you could have handled this with a little more finesse.

Oh, how you would look back at these next few minutes and cringe.

“Ah… r-right. Me too. Like you.”

Am I malfunctioning?

“Me like you,” you stuttered out, suddenly an idiot.

“Maybe we should, um… let us move in a more natural direction,” Jungkook offered, ignoring your shitty grammar. Probably didn’t even notice. He scooted his seat closer, holding you up more. You snuck a glance. He was bright red from neck to forehead. “Eat and rest and…”

“Fuck?”

Both of you yelped and clung onto each other as Yoongi showed up with two big bags of fried rice and soup.

“Seems reasonable. I’ll join in this time since you’ll both be sober.”

“What?” you choked as Jungkook grumbled under his breath, “You should have joined in yesterday, hyung. I thought you were going to help me. I was so nervous.”

Eh.

Ehhh?

EHHHHHHH????

The other male held up his hands after placing the two bags on the counter. “Sorry, one of us has to be responsible. You were both drunk. I was fine with watching you two flop all over each other. Soup or fried rice? Ah, we should have the soup since hyung can’t have any.”

“I hate you, Yoongi.”

He did not seem the least bit bothered by your untruthful announcement. “Uh huh, sure, after I did all that work reviving you so you wouldn’t throw up in the sink that the young one here.”

“Hey!”

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #yoonkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #yoongi x you #yoonkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

[last-starry-sky]

sooo remember yesterday when i said i was going to post the smut part to this next? well i lied. more set up for youuu.

soap x reader, reader's perspective this time, no smut (if i write these two idiots orbiting around each other for 500 chapters im sorry), dumb historical au set in the medieval scottish highlands,

It’s still dark when you awake to a sound. It barely registers in your head as you lay in your little bed, curled in the middle of the straw, snug and warm under a few layers of wool blankets. Perhaps it’s just the wind, or the building settling. All that matters is that you’re warm here and now. The inn should be quiet at this hour, with no patrons and both the innkeeper and his wife not able to do much until you wake and complete your daily chores. 

You pull the blanket up over your nose and sigh. Chores. You don’t want to leave your bed yet. It’s too cold. You’d worn your shift to bed the night previous, and stockings as well tonight. You wonder how much colder it could get this early in the season. But you must, you think as you stare up at the loft rafters. You must bring in the wood and start the fires so that your employers, which makes you feel so cold to phrase it that way, they’re your parents in all but name, can warm up. You must haul in the water, probably break the ice off it too. Then you must help them out of bed, wash, and dress. Then you can start on breakfast and on and on with all the other chores of the day until you fall back into bed. You close your eyes and sigh again. It never seems to end. 

There’s another creak, like the one that woke you, and you freeze in your bed. It’s the stable door opening, you know it. You lay in the dark and listen. You hear steps, feet striding across the floor in the main hall. An intruder? Here? It horrifies you. You’ve heard of the sickening things that strangers do in the middle of the night to helpless people. It makes your heart race.

You almost scream, jolting upright, when you hear a loud clatter from the main room. You’re separated by whatever is out there by only a door. You throw your legs off the bed and scramble to press your ear to your door. Your blood is pounding in your ears and you’re panting but you can hear someone moving about. There’s a loud clack. clack. clack. of wood as it’s stacked. You wonder what on God’s green earth could be happening on the other side of the door when you hear a voice.

“Com ohn . . . com onnn,” a man’s voice whines interspersed with tiny tink tink tink noises.

That voice. You know that voice. You push open the door and, just as you supposed, it’s the man who blew in late yesterday. You’d been so tired last night you’d all but forgotten about him. He’s only a bulky silhouette crouched next to the fireplace, pile of split wood beside him, until he breaths life into the tiny spark laying in the tinder cradled gently in his hands. He pulls the catching fire away from his face, staring at it with no fear of being burnt, like it’s a treasure. The infant fire cupped in his hands lights the straight line of his nose, the high plane of his cheek, the dusting of dark hair that wraps around his lips, down his chin and up his jaw. He gives the fire one last breath of air, like a kiss, and the purse of his lips it . . . 

You avert your eyes. He makes you feel unwell.

“Mornin’,” he calls to you gently, voice still groggy and rough. He’d set the burning tinder in the center of the three logs he’d previously stacked in the fireplace. He feeds it small bits of wood as he watches it grow around the logs with a hooded, pleasant look to his eyes. He’s acting as if he’s got all the time in the world. That there’s no rush at all.   

You know you’re blushing furiously. You can only hope he can’t see you cowered in the dark of the doorway. You pin your eyes back on the floor, on your stocking feet. Good lord, you realize that you’re standing in front of this man, a stranger, a handsome stranger, in just your shift.     

“Y’ need some water?” he asks, holding his hands out over the growing flames. “Already fetched it. Two buckets. Just outside, if you like.”  

He’s far too kind and it makes you want to smile. He’s taken care of two of your worst chores before you’d even left your bed. You wished you could trust him the way the innkeepers did, so openly and blindly, but you can’t. As nice and convenient as it is to have a strong man around to take a share of the chores, especially on terribly cold mornings like this, he's still too new. You mussn't let down your guard for even a moment. He’s still crouched on the hearth, looking up at you and waiting for your answer.

“Yes. Thank you,” you answer in a whisper. “Bring them in please and let them warm by the fire. I’ll dress and help you shortly,” You give him your orders before turning about, pulling the door closed behind you, leaving no room for comment. 

As you pull your dress over your head you think about how those orders flowed so easily off your tongue. Almost too easily. You knew you were nervous around strangers, men especially. Who knew what they were thinking of, thinking about, at any time. This one is different though. You tie on your apron and hunt around for your shawl. Where had you left it? It was near impossible to find anything in the dark. This man, John, you believe he said his name was, he’s a soldier. Maybe he needs orders, direction, someone to listen to. 

You give up looking for your shawl, stuff your feet into your shoes, and open the door. The fire is crackling happily, warmth and light spreading through the main room. It draws you right to the hearth and you can’t find it within you to resist. There are several fresh logs left on top to feed it for the coming hours. The two buckets of water are right where you told him to leave them, their surfaces free of ice. You don’t have time to stand about though, because the man, John, is gone, and you see your shawl hanging over a chair at the table closest to the fire.

The outside door slams open again, making you jump. It’s him, carrying in two more buckets of water. His cheeks are flushed and his breath is visible as he walks in, a chill following him from the frosted outdoors. He gently sets down the buckets between you and the fire, careful not to slosh the freezing water. You have no wish to be idle as he works, even as you wish you could stand by the fire for a moment more to melt some of the chill from your bones, so you turn to the innkeeper’s room. They have a braiser that you fill at night and in the morning with coals. It will help them to wake on this chilly morning. 

“What next, lass?” he asks you just as you turn, stopping you with words alone. 

Lord, he’s right behind you. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your bare neck. You shiver as you turn to him, wrapping your arms around your chest. You wish you hadn’t. He’s frosted from his journey to the well and back in the early snow. The flakes stand out brilliantly against his black hair. His thick, dark eyebrows are pushed together in concern, creasing a line above his nose. He looks so warm. He’s almost glowing, humming with it. It’s almost too much. Too tempting. His eyes are half-lidded and hidden by the shadow of his brow, but you know he’s looking at you. He’s waiting. Waiting for you, for his orders. It makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You clear your throat. “There’s a braiser in the Innkeeper’s room. Go fetch it. Quietly please.”

He nods at you, eye flicking over you quickly before walking around the table to the room you’ve sent him to. You allow yourself a single moment to collect yourself after he leaves, a nervous breath shaking out of you, before you grab your shawl off the chair and set yourself on your chores, handsome stranger be damned.

#starry writes #mw2 #soap x reader #soap/reader #medieval au #im having fun with this and will prob post something daily while it entertains me. hope yall like it!

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog 12: Episode 7, Part II

His straw is so stupid looking. I can't do this anymore.

As I've said in the last post, they really are a lot alike, huh?

While not entirely reliable as a source for his body language, Sipho is noted to be a good mimic. Let's assume that Joris would, in fact, sit like that.

I can't really give Keke too much trouble on this because he was a kid, but... Man. He really is bad at understanding other people's feelings and consoling them.

His emotionally unintelligent swag and inability to read the room got him into 4 ruined relationships, one of which is a divorce.

No wonder he wants to do right by Joris.

He is so embarrassing.

At least Joris's mania of being cool is embarrassing in a quieter, more subtle way.

Truly, despite the differences in temper, they are two birds of a feather.

A very funny thing to say for a guy who has 30-50 shushus and cursed items in his store.

Just like with other relationships Kerubim has, the way this ends is uhh 50% the result of his emotionally unavailable swag, and 50% the fault of him having a bad taste in friends. Like what did you think was going to happen, Keke.

My personal headcanon is that Kerubim can't stop becoming friends with people who are either unstable or manipulative because his closest familial relationships are Atcham (unstable) and Ecaflip (manipulative).

He really is very Atcham-coded. (Hates Kerubim for no reason other than being an idiot and needing someone to blame his failures on. Also, very emotionally unstable.)

On one hand, I want to point out that, despite how much I make fun of Keke — why did he lose his job, when literally none of this was his fault? I don't think anyone would have done any better in this situation. That's a shushu we're talking about...

His ass is not listening to any of your advice, Keke.

He is looking into your eyes and thinking "waoh... papycha is so cool but also,,, sad and pitiable.! :) i will be as cool as him and make papycha happy forever :) because he's sad and pitiable.!"

And he is not listening to any of your advice.

He is so good at giving advice about things he's never done before (talking about one's feelings).

Hnhgnn Kerubim Crepin, and the 30 different platonic divorces he went through besides the actual divorce he also went through, my beloved.

#ep7 #wakfu #dofus #krosmoz #ro liveblogs dofus

[tathrin]

I just need you to know your tags on that post about Boba Fett made me realize HOW MUCH of Legends-era Boba Fett I didn't know about and now it is my goal to hunt every book and story down because dear gods he's even more amazing than I realized

Ahhhh omg yes he's the best and worst in all the best ways. Thank you for giving me another excuse to talk about him!

Okay so start with the Twin Engines of Destruction comic by Andy Mangels and John Naedeau, that is THE epitome of Boba Fett. (#he had no face just the helmet that WAS his face #he canonically gives money from successful jobs to orphanages WHAT #when he found out someone was impersonating him AND BOTCHING JOBS he set that fucker up SO GOOD #he literally took the man apart physically spiritually and emotionally and left him paralyzed staring at his own about-to-explode jetpack #and put the antidote to the neurotoxin in front of him said ''you may survive if you have the will to move...like i would'' and WALKED AWAY) Genuinely just...this is it, this is him, this is everything anyone ever needs to know about how to write Boba Fett.

After that I'll recommend moving onto the Boba Fett: Death, Lies, and Treachery comics (consisting of "Bounty on Bar Kooda," "When the Fat Lady Swings," and "Murder Most Foul") by John Wagner and Cam Kennedy (probably my favorite Fett comic artist; their style is wonky yes but it fits so well!). Boba Fett: Agent of Doom is another one drawn by Kennedy that is excellent, although it's written by John Ostrander (who did the best Clone Wars comics btw) instead of Wagner. Also I personally like to headcanon the last one actually being about Ailyn Vel, but that's neither here nor there. Your best bet to find these is probably the Star Wars Legends — Epic Collection: The New Republic vol 7 tpb but Marvel is shit about keeping their SW comics in print, so good luck.

Also definitely worth reading are K.W. Jeter's Bounty Hunter Wars trilogy of novels (#he surgically removed his olfactory pleasure sensors so he wouldn't be affected by space pollen shit  #he'd drop an entire mine on top of himself to get his mark if he had to and then just dig his way back out #he once used the dying body of the closest thing he had to a friend as a laser canon to kill some tin-can hutts  #he had his fucking SKIN DISSOLVED and still sat up to shoot a bitch #he walked onto an exploding star destroyer just to have a conversation AND THEN FLEW IT RIGHT BACK OUT AGAIN) but I will say that the quality of them varies wildly between different sections...but it's one of those "even the bad parts are good, despite being terrible" books, if you know what I mean!

No Disintegrations, Please! is a short-story from the Tales of the New Republic collection, and that's the one that features Fett walking through an Imperial Garrison to get his mark that I was thinking of when I made the post (although it seems that tag didn't save? or I just can't find it again amidst all the unhinged shrieking of the rest of them lol) although he also took on a garrison in one of the comics and in another comic he went through a wrecked Star Destroyer full of murder-droids and TIE patrols so like...not an out-of-the-ordinary endeavor for him lol.

Payback: The Tale of Dengar, also from one of the short-story collections, in this case Tales of the Bounty Hunters, is where Dengar gets Fett to be his best man, although alas the wedding itself is never depicted anywhere, at least not that I've seen. (Although if you'll permit an extremely immodest self-rec, I did write about it once in a fic...) My favorite moment in this story, though, is when Boba Fett pulls a straw out to drink without removing his helmet. Too bad no one apparently ever mentioned that features to Din Djarin; would have made his life considerably easier. And yes, I was the person shouting "use a straw you idiot!" at the screen several times, to the vast amusement of those watching with me.

And of course, Susejo a.k.a. the Sarlacc mentioned in the original post is from A Barve Like That: The Tale of Boba Fett from the short-story collection "Tales From Jabba's Palace."

For new stuff that still feels like classic Fett, Age of Rebellion: Boba Fett by Greg Pak and Bria LaVorgna is really the only thing that comes to mind, but it's quite a lovely little one-shot.

*If you have trouble finding Twin Engines of Destruction let me know. I have the whole thing saved on my computer because I love it so much, although I will say that the digital format/coloring does it no favors.

#NER BOB'IKA! #(i'm sorry but if the base foundation of your boba fett characterization doesn't stem from ''twin engines'' what are you even DOING?) #also i went back through my boba fett tag to find links for this op and i have to thank you #because there is some fucking GOLD in that tag that i did not remember #lmaooooo #boba fett #favorite characters #star wars #star wars eu #twin engines of destruction

[inneedofsupervision]

An Enemy? A Friend? No, just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

Chapter 3: Of Food Preferences and Rooftop Meetings

Chapter Summary: While regretting several life choices, Sam has to deal with Clint Barton as his partner on the search for a spider-themed vigilante. Meanwhile, Spiderman strolls through Queens, looking out for the citizens of his hometown.

Read on Ao3.

"For someone claiming he hates Barnes, you two share an uncanny similar constipated expression."

Barton is unbothered by the glare sent his way for the comment. 

The archer doesn't break eye contact with Sam as he bends over, too lazy to pull the glass closer to drink, the corner of his lips turned upwards. 

A bypassing waitress shoots the pair a strange look, caught off guard by the blond man who forces the last bits of his caramel-toffee shake through the purple plastic straw, creating an obnoxious noise. 

Clint does not let his eyes stray, staring straight ahead at Sam, their knees uncomfortably bumping against each other under the too-small, sloppily cleaned dinner table. 

Sam's left eyelid twitches. 

Being the bigger person, not only by height, he swallows back the remark sitting on the tip of his tongue and gives a small sigh instead, allowing himself a moment to wallow in self-pity. 

What good did saving the world do if you end up forced to sit at a diner in the middle of Queens on a Monday afternoon with an arrow-shooting idiot, waiting for the AI of an eccentric billionaire to hopefully inform you of an unknown vigilante in spandex to pull up? 

Speaking of said AI, Sam glances down at the Stark Phone its inventor had thrust into his hand before throwing him out of the building. 

"I'll let Friday know you're not allowed back in until you bought useful intel on the Spiderling." Sam hadn't made the mistake of questioning if Stark was joking. 

He most likely wouldn't like the answer.

Sam eyes Barton, scrolling on his mobile phone, having done nothing the last forty minutes than share unuseful information about Spiderman, the archer found on the web. Does Barton believe the people wouldn't lie for clout, sporting anything about the vigilante without proof? Sam had looked the vigilante up, too. It wasn't hard to notice a pattern. Anything with Spiderman in the title got unrivaled attention, positive and negative. Although most news articles and posts about "your friendly neighborhood Spiderman"- Barton had let out an amused snort when Sam read out the name - were praising him, there are exceptions, sharing a near identical standing as SHIELD and the higher authorities about the person behind the mask. To them, Spiderman is another vigilante who pulls through his take on justice, neither caring about hindering the NYPD from doing their work nor abiding by the law. Those articles don't stunt the citizens of New York to adore the web-slinger. Especially Queens seem to love their new-won vigilante. Every day, new posts about an encounter with the mysterious spider-themed man appear on the internet or even make it into the news headlines, talking about another act of sometimes reckless heroism. 

Sam lets out a tired sigh, ignoring the minuscule rise of Clint's eyebrow at the sound. They have been waiting there, receiving stares and sometimes cautious questions for an autograph despite trying to blend in for two hours without a hint of Spiderman. Sam pressed his thumbs against his temples as he felt the tale-telling sign of a headache coming. He reloads the search engine in the hope that maybe there had been a sighting of Spiderman that Stark's AI somehow had missed, only to find out that not even a Stark Phone was immune to getting caught in a filter bubble. He blankly stares at the headline of a new post, "Do you share the same ice cream taste as Spiderman? Check out now!". Shaking his head, Sam turns the device off. Watching the rain pour down outside, he was ready to write off their chances for today in getting a hold of the vigilante. Sam's involuntary partner for this mission continues scrolling, unbothered by Sam's internal struggle on his own Stark Phone. A knee bumps against Sam's leg, causing him to glance at the archer.

"According to this fan blog, Spidey has a thing for churros, pizza Hawaii, and Delmar's sandwiches," says Barton as he points at the phone, a hint of bewilderment on his face. "That's weirdly specific. Do they know our food preferences, too?"

Sam deliberately ignores the question, frowning at the information. Fury did say that the vigilante was famous around Queens, but now people even post what the vigilante eats? He couldn't decide on what he found weirder, Spiderman's food preferences, that people make blog posts about them, or that Clint found more information about the spider through random stories the citizens of New York decided to share on the internet than from SHIELD within two hours. Sam throws Clint an unimpressed look.

"With that specific type of information, we will find and convince him to come to the tower in a second." 

Sam finds a spark of satisfaction as he catches Barton rolling his eyes. The feeling does not last long as Clint pulls out the straw after finishing his drink, pointing at Sam. Sam eyes the beige-colored milkshake droplets flying all over the table at the action, eyebrows drawing together in suppressed annoyance at the mess. The archer smirks at him. 

"If we get Spidey to talk to us through offering him Churros, the joke's on you."

Sam chucks a napkin at him.

__________________________________________

The subway grows louder as it comes to a halt, electric doors opening a second after it stands still, letting out a flood of people who quickly make their way across the station. Peter skillfully avoids getting hit in the back of his knee by masses of language trolleys as he steps out of the metro, walking past a large group of tourists blocking half of the station with their presence. His head bops slightly to the beat of the music playing from his navy-colored earphones. It wasn't his color of choice, but when Ned told him he got new ones for his birthday and was about to throw them out, Peter took the chance and asked if he could have them instead. Ned had asked if he was sure. His earphones were pretty old, but Peter insisted he didn't mind. 

"I don't get where you take the patience to mess around with broken-down electronics. It's impressive, man."

"It's fun, I guess."

Peter shrugged his shoulders with a lopsided grin as he held his newly obtained earphones, his hands itching to modify them. Messing with the noise canceling feature was a well-thought-out choice as the teen walks unbothered by loud chatter and the incoming and bypassing subway cars towards the stairs. Concentrating on the rhythm of the bass drumming in his ears makes the noise of the subway station more endurable. He does an excellent job at focusing his senses compared to after the bite but using the modified earphones did help, especially if he was tired after a turbulent school day. Peter doesn't bother waiting for the people on the stairs to move. He slips past the businessmen and women in a zigzag motion, the adults not bothering to glance at the mob of brown curls brushing past. Peter presses himself along his worn-out schoolbag through the masses of commuters, finally reaching the top of the stairs. His pupils draw together as the sun hits his face, a few rays of sunshine breaking through a dark blanket of clouds, causing him to squint.

He takes a deep breath. The scent of summer rain lies in the air. 

By the time the teen arrives at the apartment, the shallow rain has colored his shirt a dark blue. Stepping inside, his hand reaches for the light switch while pulling one arm out of the soaked clothing. Passing the mirror in the hall on his way to the bathroom, he notices in relief how the bruise on his lower back had vanished, and that just in time for tomorrow's gym class. It had stayed surprisingly long, but maybe that's just a thing when a rusty fire escape comes crashing down and threatens to hit the nice man around the corner selling hot dogs. No hot dogs or people got harmed, thanks to Spiderman being at the right time at the right place, and the vigilante even got a free snack out of it. While his back had taken a nasty hit, Peter is glad no one got seriously hurt. 

Stepping into the kitchen, Peter finds a note on the dinner table telling him May won't be home until ten. He checks where his aunt left her purse, estimating with a glance how much they had before taking a bill and shoving it inside his pant pocket. The sleeves of the raincoat are a tick too short, and Peter shoves his hands into his pockets while walking through the growing downpour, heading to the grocery store down the street. It's a little warm under the raincoat, but getting bitten by a radioactive spider and gaining enhanced abilities doesn't give one immunity to sickness. Not even Spiderman can escape the hold of a mean summer cold. He greets the cashier with a nod, the blond teenage girl behind the counter giving him a bored look before she's back on her mobile phone, paying her new customer no further attention. Peter wanders down the aisles, stopping as he squints at the price of the protein bars. 

"Could have been nice," mutters the teen but walks further, collecting what he knew was essential. He takes his items and goes up to the register. The cashier doesn't acknowledge the teen awkwardly hovering in front of the counter, busy retieying her hair into a semi-neat ponytail. He watches her until their eyes meet, and she raises an eyebrow at him. Peter's ears burn as he hastily places the items onto the countertop. The girl pushes her mobile phone to the side, not bothering to shut the device off as she begins scanning the groceries. In his hurry, Peter knocks over a soda. The canned drink slowly rolls forward, threatening to fall over the edge. Peter catches it swiftly, a smile of relief crossing his face. The girl holds out a hand, and it takes Peter five incredibly long seconds to register that she wants him to hand over the soda.

"That's 9,56$. Do you have a card?"

"Uhm,"

She sighed, cutting off anything he was about to answer before pulling a card from under the counter. "Buy something above ten dollars five times, and you can get a protein bar for free."

Peter's ears grew red as she fumbled for the money. Had he been that obvious? The girl doesn't spare him a further look as he hurries and stuffed the groceries into his backpack. When he reaches out for the card, something catches his attention. His eyes wander up from the two stamps on the paper. The girl wasn't looking at him, back on her phone already, but he smiled at her anyway. 

"Thank you. Have a nice day."

"Yeah, whatever."

Pushing the card into his back pocket, Peter leaves the grocery store in a good mood. The rain was still pouring down from above. The boy tries to bypass several large puddles that have begun collecting on the sidewalks. 

"Help! Someone, please, help me!"

The hairs on his neck stand up as a well-known shiver runs down his back. Peter pulls the hood off his head to get a better listen. He closes his eyes, focusing on the panicked voice. It is faint, but after getting past the all-surrounding patter of the rain, filtering out the noise of cars passing by, he can hear it more clearly. The teen takes off into the nearest alley. Changing into the suit doesn't take more than a moment. With practiced movements, Peter pulls the mask over his head and attaches his backpack under the bottom of an aircon, preventing it from getting taken. Alternating between running and leaping from rooftop to rooftop, swinging over wider gaps between the buildings, Spiderman makes his way toward the call for help in a hurry.

An all too familiar sight awaits him. A young woman is getting cornered by two large men, the latter hovering over her as she presses her back against the wall in an attempt to put as much space as possible between them. One of the men has her wrist in a tight hold, promising to leave a bruise. The woman looks terrified as the other man grabs her jeans jacket, forcing it off her shoulders. She tries batting his hands away, opening her mouth to scream for help again when the man holding her wrist lifts his free hand. 

"Shut up, or not even your mother will recognize your pretty face if I get angry, you understand? Just keep quiet and do what we tell you."

While he speaks, the man steps forward, his hand settling down onto the woman's shoulder, thumb slipping under the loose strap of her top. 

"Who knows, maybe you even like it, hm?" he asks, with a suggestive voice, grinning at her, his hand traveling further while not only rain starts dripping down the woman's face. The woman shuts her eyes, trying to avoid the man's gaze, standing like turned into stone in front of them. A small panicked scream escapes her as the hand around her wrists suddenly pulls her forward, sending her stumbling. She tears her eyes open, hands reaching out to stop her fall, when she feels the hold growing slack. The woman blinks in stunned silence, taking in the red filling her vision. In front of her stands a person with their back to her. The red belongs to their suit, if you can call it a suit. It is a strange get-up of mismatches of red and blue textiles, but even if she had never seen them in person, she, as a citizen of Queens, knew at an instant who had come to her rescue. 

"You freak will regret this as soon as I get my hands on yo-ompf!"

"Tell that someone who cares. Or better, don't say anything at all," with those words, Spiderman shoots another web at the guy's head, leaving the criminal completely immobile. The vigilante turns around, his eyes hidden behind some goggles directed at the shivering woman.

"Hey, are you alright?"

The sound of a voice filled with genuine worry and care coaxes a sob out of the woman, her knees bucking as the tension leaves her body. 

"Woah, careful!"

Spiderman steps closer, arms hovering an inch from her shoulders before he glances around. He lets out a hum of triumph as he bends to collect her jacket and carefully drops it over the woman's shoulders, asking her again if she's alright. 

"I'm okay, thank you." She stutters a bit as her breath hitches from a sob. Spiderman stares at her with his emotionless eyes, tilting his head.

"Do you mind calling the police? Or hand me your phone. I contact them for you."

She wordlessly hands over her mobile phone and listens silently as the vigilante calmly explains the situation to the person on the other line. She feels numb at the ease the man talks to the police, his answer sounding almost practiced as if he had done this hundreds of times already, causing a sick drop to settle in her stomach. How many girls and women did Spiderman have to save from this? She draws the wet jacket closer around her body as a shiver runs down her back.

"Do you want to come wait outside?"

Spiderman nods towards the entrance of the alley leading towards the main street. Catching her glance at the webbed-up men, the vigilante steps between her and them in a protective manner. 

"They cannot hurt you anymore. The webs won't dissolve within the next two hours, and the police are on their way. Would you like me to wait with you until they arrive?"

"Yes, please."

Spiderman nods and gently guides her out, not touching her but standing near in case she stumbles. She leans against the wall next to the alley, sniffling a bit and absentmindedly rubbing at her eyes. Spiderman waits next to her on the other side of the corner, eyes on the criminals and keeping himself out of the limelight.

"Are you going to be good by yourself? The police will be here in a minute."

"Do you think they will be upset with you? You saved me. I'll talk to them to not bother you."

"Thank you, but that isn't necessary. I don't want to keep the police up longer than I need to. I'll be up on the roof."

"Wait a moment!"

The woman's eyes widen as she looks around the corner to see the vigilante hanging with only one hand and one foot set against the wall, on his way to crawl to the top when he stopped after she called for him.

"I want to thank you. You saved me. I don't know if- what these men-, what would have done if you wouldn't come. Thank you."

The vigilante stays silent for a moment before sending her a small salute. 

"I'm happy I could help, ma'am. Stay safe."

True to his words, the vigilante stays on the roof until the sound of police sirens draws near. He listens to an officer asking the woman if she needs to be brought to a hospital while another group goes into the alley to deal with the men. He paces on the roof until the police car with the woman drives off, taking her home safely before he quickly swings back to collect his stuff. Peter grimaces as he pulls off the wet suit. He changes into his dry clothes, not risking swinging home and climbing into the apartment in his suit during the daytime. This little excursus outside his regular patrol time had been risky enough and only possible because he is paranoid and takes his suit everywhere. 

The next time Peter steps out as Spiderman is several hours after his aunt comes home from work. May looked ready to fall asleep on her feet when he peered out of the kitchen to greet her. At the sight of dinner already prepared, the woman pulled her nephew close to place a soft kiss on the side of his head.

"That's very nice of you. It looks good, sweetie."

He smiles at her, not bothered he has to cook for them. He liked preparing meals if he got the time, and that's not only because of an ulterior motive like not wanting to eat May's cooking. Not at all. He doesn't mind slightly burnt and bland food. It goes well with orange juice. 

Peter tilts his head to the side, observing four men clad in black surrounding the wall next to a bank, a suspicious jeep parked right next to a stopping prohibited sign. When the men begin to attach something to the wall next to the automat, the vigilante decides it is the right time to show himself.  

"Uhm, excuse me. Are you seriously trying to break that ATM out of the wall? You know that's about 1557 lbs. If that falls on you, you end up a pancake."

"Shit, it's the spider guy!"

"Didn't I tell you to watch out?"

"You said watch out for the police!"

"That spider freak and the police are equally bad, you moron!"

The vigilante winces in sympathy as one of the men slaps the other against the back of the head before he stands up. 

He had been crouching on top of a lamppost, watching what the group was up to, wanting to get an overview of the situation. The vigilante takes a step back. Spinning midair, Peter swiftly lands on his feet before casually walking up to the four men. One of them steps forward, holding something that looks like a taser.

"Stop right there, spider freak!"

The vigilante stops in his tracks, head tilted to the side.

"It's Spiderman to you, Sir."

He gives a short cough into his fist before straightening up, trying to make himself look taller. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against- hey! Watch out where you are throwing that thing!"

It doesn't take a genius to recognize the object thrown his way to be explosive. Spiderman flicks his wrist forward and shoots a web at the bomb. He tightens his hold on the web in his hand and rotates his body, spinning twice to build up more strength. Using the momentum, Peter cuts the web at the right time and sends the bomb flying soaring into the air. Two seconds later, the bomb goes off with a loud explosion, the sound ringing painfully in Peter's ears. The alarm of several cars starts going off. 

"You idiot, we needed that!"

"With him here, we couldn't get the money anyway. We have to get going!"

"You can't leave the party without cleaning up afterward, guys," Peter pauses for a moment, "does that make sense? Anyway, I cannot let you go like this."

"Does he always talk that much?" asks one of them, looking at the man standing closest to the ATM and whom Peter gathered is their leader.  

"How is that important now?" asks the leader, fury lacing his voice as he shoves the other harshly towards the vehicle.

"Move, you idiot!"

The vigilante raises an eyebrow under the mask as the men hurry towards the car while the one with the weapon takes a hesitant step in his direction, holding the device with a shaking arm in front of himself. 

"You should get some new friends, dude. They just abandoned you. I don't know if it makes you feel better that sacrificing you won't help them, but maybe you guys should talk it out in your holding cell." 

Provoked by the words, the man charges at him, but Peter side-steps swiftly, avoiding the stun gun aimed at his side. A sudden ringing in the back of his head has Peter leaning back, just in time as a knife stabs into the air where his chest just had been. "Not cool, dude. That could go into someone's eye."

He leans back, contorting and performing a bridge before pulling his legs up and kicking the knife out of the man's hand. With his feet back onto the ground, Peter crouches down and swiftly kicks the man's legs from under him, sending him to the ground. He forces the stun gun out of the man's other hand and webs his arm against his chest, leaving the man on the ground for now. He looks down at the man.

"Don't take it personally. I'm just not a fan of pointy things."

Spiderman's eyes squint together at the sight of the other criminals trying to flee with the jeep. A web hits the man, about to climb into the driver's seat, pinning his hand against the door handle. Peter turns around and shoots another web against the man's back, whom he had sent to the floor, and tugs again, a little harsher than before. It sends the man flying against the car, the impact bending the side of the vehicle. His partner, who got hit in the process, lets out a pained grunt.

"Oops. Sorry," calls Spiderman, not sounding that sorry, before quickly shooting two more webs, covering the whole side of the car and the two men attached to it in the sticky threads. The leader pulls out a gun, but before he can aim at the vigilante, the weapon is shot out of his hand and safely discarded by sticking high up against the side of the building. 

"Explosives, tasers, knives, guns, where do you guys even keep all that stuff?" mutters the vigilante under his breath as he webs the man against the wall of the bank. Turning his back to the cursing man, Peter reaches for the side door where the last criminal had climbed in during the chaos unfolding. Peter's spidey sense sets his body on alert as he opens the door. Something soars in the direction of his head, aiming for the place between his eyes. His hand shoots up instinctively, catching the object with ease. He glances at it, eyebrows raising in surprise before facing the man, who stares at him angrily.

"Did you just  throw  brass knuckles at me? Do you even know how to use these? I'm pretty sure throwing doesn't fall into that category", questions the teen, sounding dumbfounded. The criminal uses the short moment of bafflement to shut the door in Peter's face, the lock clicking in. Peter narrows his eyes, grabbing the handle a second time. He opens the door again, this time with a little more force than strictly necessary, a crack indicating the lock and probably something else, too, has broken under his power. The throwing of brass knuckles should have been a hint of the criminals growing desperate in their attempt to flee, but Spiderman couldn't help yelping in surprise at the new weapon flying at his head as soon as the door broke open.

"A baseball bat? You serious?"

Peter grabs the bat and merely rips it out of the man's hold, throwing it over his shoulder and barely missing the leader stuck to the wall. 

"Let's finish this, alright."

The man's eyes grow comically wide as a red gloves-covered hand grabs him by the collar. He gets dragged out of the vehicle and pushed against the slanting car door, where he gets stuck with a layer of webs. Spiderman walks over to the discarded baseball bat and shakes his head at the sound of protests from his attacker. 

"Don't worry,  I  don't use stuff like that," Peter says, breaking the bat in half like a stick before he collects the taser, brass knuckles, and lastly, the gun, which he easily tears out of the webbing. He throws the weapons into a pile on the ground before webbing them into a ball that he sticks onto the car seats. He then walks up to the leader and pulls the man with one hand from the wall before attaching him to the jeep. 

"So," draws Peter out, sitting crosslegged on top of the jeep while waiting for the police to arrive, criminals all sticking in various angles against the car, "I kinda  bombed  your party, huh?"

"For the love of god, if you don't shut up.-" he cuts the man off with a web shot against his mouth, muffling the rest of his protest.

"Well, at least I had a  blast  catching you guys."

"I swear if he makes one more pun about this-"

"Hey hey hey, cool down." Peter jumps down from the jeep to stand in front of the leader, who, despite pinned against the car, holds a good two heads of height on him. 

"It's not my fault this thing  blew up  on you."

"You annoying little-"

"Hey, look! It's your ride," interrupts the teen with a cheerful voice, gesturing towards the police cars arriving under the sound of sirens. He is about to turn back to the man, another quip on his lips as the hairs of his neck raise, his spidey sense buzzing in the back of his mind. 

"Where is your last accomplice?"

The man throws him an annoyed look. "There is none, and even if there is, I wouldn't tell you piece of-"

"Yeah, yeah," Peter rolls his eyes, shutting the man off with a web to his mouth. That starts to become a habit. Despite the man's words, the young vigilante jumps back onto the jeep, glancing around the street, searching for anything that could have sent his sixth sense off. His eyes dart around, foot tapping a little restless on top of the roof as the buzzing doesn't stop, but he cannot pinpoint where the supposed threat is coming from. 

"Spiderman, care to explain what happened?"

Peter glances down at the officer who had stepped out of the police car while two additional cars came driving around the corner of the street. 

"They tried to break open the ATM, Sir," answers Peter, gesturing towards the man stuck to the car. "I collected their weapons, but they still could have some on them or in the car," he explains further without stepping down from the vehicle. While the police officer seems not fazed or apprehensive of Spiderman being on the scene, Peter had enough experience through his short time as a vigilante to be aware that not all of NYPD liked him. The officer nods at his words and surprises Peter by thanking him for catching the criminals and, additionally, keeping the damage while restraining them to a minimum. That has always been something Peter worked on while patrolling. Maybe it is ingrained in his brain to create as little of a mess as he can, but whenever he sees something break or someone getting seriously hurt, he feels like he could have avoided that. To have someone acknowledge his efforts causes a little grin to spread under the mask. Peter gives the officer a small salute before jumping out of the car.

"Always happy to help, Sir," he says before breaking into a run and swinging into the night. The rest of his patrol would have been relatively uneventful if there wasn't the buzzing reminding him steadily that he should watch out. The unease from before wouldn't lessen, and although Peter is proud to have avoided two muggings, he couldn't feel much joy as the constant sense of  something  being wrong sits in the back of his subconsciousness. Flicking his pupils around but still not sensing anything suspicious, Peter climbs to the roof of an office building. In two, of the fifty bureaus under him, there is still light burning. Peter wonders which poor soul is up at two a.m. doing office work. That couldn't be fun. He stifles a yawn. 

"You're hard to find, Spiderman."

Peter freezes, nearly choking on his spit. He suppresses a cough that tickles the back of his throat.

He knew that voice. 

He had heard that voice more than once, had seen the press conferences, had watched the interviews, had sat together in Ned's room, his best friend and him listening in awe. 

The teen slowly stands up, ears picking up on the electric whir that's drawing closer. A moment later, he can feel the presence of a second person behind him. The sound of metal clicking together accompanies the vigilante as he turns around, wishing he could clear his throat but not wanting to embarrass himself. His Adam's apple bops as he gulps involuntarily, and Peter has to force his fingers open, not wanting to show how uneasy he is but failing miserably. He stands stiff as a board, staring at the two men standing at the other end of the roof.

Once again, Spiderman's mask saves the day. Neither of the men could depict any information from the vigilante, and Peter couldn't be more thankful for it as he could take a vague guess that he probably looked like a deer caught in headlights. Hyperaware of his surroundings, Peter's heads shift towards Falcon. Falcon moves from one foot to the other, and Peter almost guesses that the man is nervous. Staring at the hero he worshipped since elementary school without making a single noise, emotionless masked eyes directed at him, Peter couldn't think of a reason for the man to be uncomfortable. He should be the one who could sink into the ground with awkwardness and tension surrounding them as neither of the three says a word. Peter silently stares at Hawkeye and Falcon, standing eerily still, simply observing them, and - Oh. Okay, maybe he had found the reason why Falcon feels uncomfortable. 

"Come on, Parker, say something. But don't make it embarrassing,"  thinks Peter.  "Those are your childhood heroes, and they want something from you. Just say hi like a normal person."

"Good evening, Mr. Barton, Sir. Mr. Wilson, Sir."

"How do you know our names," asks Clint, sounding genuinely curious, used to people addressing them by their hero names. 

"You have a Wikipedia page!" blurts Peter out before wincing inwardly at the eyebrows raised at his words. There goes his plan for a non-embarrassing first impression.

"You've read our Wikipedia pages?" asks Sam slowly, as if saying the words slowly would let them make more sense.

"Twice, actually."

Peter wants to yeet himself over the roof. Mr. Wilson doesn't try to conceal his weirded-out expression while Mr. Barton seems a little amused, but Peter isn't sure if he can trust the expression of a trained spy slash hero after telling them he read their Wikipedia page not once but twice like a creep. With his face burning behind the mask, Peter takes a small breath before gathering himself.

"Ehm, you have been searching for me?"

Barton nods in confirmation before pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the exit. "We need you to come with us."

The vigilante tilts his head at Hawkeye's words. 

"And you need me for?" Peter draws the last word out as he eyes the two men, feeling the tension sink back tenfold. Two of the Avengers come out in the middle of the night to ask him to come with them? He shifts slightly, feeling the edge digging into his feet. Peter blames his nerves for the need to flee but suppresses the instinct to bolt even though he undoubtedly feels like it. These are the Avengers. Whatever they want, it couldn't be harmful. He shoves the thoughts of them wanting to know who he is in the back of his mind. He is a part-time vigilante, barely worth mentioning. There is no way the Avengers needed him for something that led to him revealing his identity or something. 

But what do the Avengers need a small-fry vigilante like him for? 

"Tomorrow at 09:30 p.m., the second conference room on level 64, Avengers Tower. We will await you." Peter blinks at the words, completely thrown off by Falcon's commanding tone. He breaks out of his stupor when the two men nearly reach the roof's exit.

"Wait! I can't at 09:30."

Falcon raises an eyebrow.

"You are declining a meeting with the Avengers?"

"No," Peter clears his throat, ears flushing at the crack of his voice. "No, I don't want to decline. I can't make it then, I have cl-, uhm, I mean, I can only the evening. If that's possible?"

Peter draws his shoulders together at the sound of Mr. Wilson sighing.

"Tomorrow noon at seven, same location."

"I'll be there, Mr, Wilson, Falcon, Sir!"

"I hope so," mutters the man under his breath, not going unnoticed by Peter, who picks the words up effortlessly with his enhanced hearing. 

"Yeah, well. See you then. Bye, Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barton, I have to leave now." The spider-themed vigilante leans back, letting himself fall from the roof, shocking both heroes, who run up to look over the edge. Clint tilts his head as his eyes follow the small figure, skilfully swinging through the air by shooting webs from building to building. 

Sam frowns before glancing at the archer. "Didn't Spiderman act weird just now?"

The blond shrugs his shoulder. "We found him, that's all that matters. I'm going to sleep now. Tomorrow is going to be fun."

Sam glares at the archer, who clamps a hand on his shoulder, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Of course, Barton gets amused by the weird spider guy. 

Sam heaves a sigh. Something about the vigilante was off, and although he could care less to find out what it was, it still irked him not to know. He can only hope the others knew what they signed up for. 

Working with Spiderman was going to be a pain. 

Sam was sure of it.

#marvel fanfic #spider man fanfiction #spiderman #peter parker #sam wilson #clint barton #falcon #hawkeye

[incarnateirony]

Thanks for the reply.What do you think are the reasons they don't want to work with Padalecki?Has he probably proven himself to be unreliable ?

I mean, I've known for a long time that Jared did not have a good reputation in media. It wasn't unusual to find crew members implicitly bitching about him on reddit, only for other people who work in media to read between the lines and be like a jeopardy game or google suggestion "did you mean jared padalecki? yeah I worked with him and-"

He delays productions, damages equipment; in the post-metoo world he's a sexual harassment liability with his "jokes". Those, accompanied by his mediocre "talent", already made him a middle aged CW washout unto itself.

But throwing unprofessional public tantrums seemed to be the last straw. Fans can pretend it's something they can spin and argue about, but the media world does not fucking care what ignorant idiots think.

They care about not getting sexually harassed, not damaging equipment, not stalling productions, and definitely not being hung out in a public twitter shitshow over fans used as blackmail leverage to force directing calls before going "LOL I WAS KIDDING GUYS". Nobody wants someone that's gonna flip and attack their brand just because they weren't given special privileges anyone in the professional world understands that he was simply not due, especially at that point in development.

Fans spinning it is just fans spinning it to console themselves. It does not influence the way properties view the liability for the cost. They can get another mediocre white man for cheaper that WON'T fuck up their set and DOESN'T come with 2 decades of baggage.

Add in his public demo shift into MAGA land with Tulsi, Rogan, gun manufacturers, anti vaxxer pals, covid shutdowns and the rest, and it's a big neon sign stapled on his head of "DNI unless you're trying to sell trump stickers and hocus pocus magic mineral water cures."

[eldritch-flower]

Haven't really posted much of my main WIP, "Zenith" on here — so here's a relatively short excerpt under the cut!

Context: Cuán is in a meeting the rest of Sutton's men, talking about the disappearance and murder of one of their informants.

"AND WHAT AM I s'posed to say to his wife, Boss? 'Sorry for your loss Missus Witcham, here's what we could find of your husband!'" Little Baz Andrews held out his huge palm furiously, meaty fingers twitching.

"No one'd seen Eddie since Tuesday before Bobby found his dog sniffin' at his arm. Shredded right to the bone, he said, like he'd been savaged."

"Folks are getting scared they'll find an ear floating in their toilet, Kamau," said Mark Curtis.

Cuán sat back in his chair beside the head of the table, fingers threaded in his lap, watching with disguised disinterest as Kamau buried his face in his hands miserably: "How many are we missing?"

A veritable silence settled over the room, ghastly and morbid. Cuán sighed, meriting the attention of the subordinates sat opposite. Their eye contact was fleeting, nervous and uncertain, dipping away just as soon as it had been made. He appraised them all with unflinching disgust.

"Eleven of ours were unaccounted for last I checked," Cuán said, taking the initiative. Kamau glanced at him, craning his neck to the side to stare as he continued: "That was Thursday."

"Nine, now," someone corrected. Cuán wasn't familiar enough to remember their name, eyes brushing over straw-like hair and forgettable features. "Two were found last night."

"In what condition?"

"Just like Eddie Witcham, or worse.”

"How much worse?" Kamau asked, voice lame and tired. Andrews looked a little green as he was nudged to speak up.

"All that was left of Squint was a smudge of brains on the wall, Boss. It's only the boys in blue 'n their science-y stuff that told us who it was."

"McCarthy? But I spoke to him yesterday," Kamau began. “He was fine.”

‘Not anymore’ was thrown around the room silently, filling the void with toxic thought. The Boss sighed deeply, rubbing at his forehead, and Cuán turned away, feeling his lips prickle into a frown.

“Lots of things were fine yesterday,” he muttered inexplicably, settling back in his chair like a child. Several eyebrows raised.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kamau demanded he continue, jaw set tersely.

Cuán didn’t answer.

“Lotsa hands are gonna go without greasin’ now Squint’s gone,” someone interjected, and the room deflated as Cuán’s wiry gaze was swept aside. “Someone else needs to replace him over in the North.”

“Finding informants is tricky.”

“So is knowing what the Whites are going to do next without one.”

Cuán scoffed, rising from his seat. He traipsed around the hard-wood table towards the private bar, gait leisurely and unbothered by the wide and staring eyes that followed him. Kamau’s burned the most, more so than the whiskey that Cuán unstopped and poured into a fancy crystal chaser.

“If you have something to say, Dunleavy, I suggest you don’t keep us waiting,” the Boss said. His words were tempered and calm, but the storm raging inside him was hardly well concealed from Cuán – the cyclone was still spinning, just like his own mind.

“I ain’t got nothing to say,” he said, smiling gingerly as he took a sip of his drink. He cut off Kamau’s quick, questioning reply before it began: “Only that I’ll do it.”

“Rusty, what the hell’re you talking about?” That was Andrews again, his small hands splayed across the table as though he were a judge before a courtroom, condemning him to life.

“He’s an idiot. Don’t listen to him-“

Kamau’s words were sniped away by Cuán’s snort of unabashed laughter, the sound rattling in his skull: “I mean what I say, Kam! Someone poke out my eye, and I can be the new Squint, yeah?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I say let ‘im,” another voice echoed. Their tone carried strongly, as if lightened by the draft that had seemed, suddenly, to sweep into the room. Cuán’s gaze sought out the speaker and landed on a big, brutish bear of a man. “If he wants to be found ass-first with his head in the sewers, that’s his problem.”

#yes its just dialogue #what about it #wip : zenith #writeblr #writing community #creative writing #writers of tumblr #wip

[mamawasatesttube]

For the ask game: 1, 3, 4 and 5 👀👀

1. the character everyone gets wrong

okay so obviously kon. do i even need to say that one? that's a gimme on this blog i think so actually i'm gonna go for a second option and also say bart. he is also such a victim of the pendulum of wrong opinions (one incorrect fanon idea gains traction; people react by going entirely too far the other way). he isn't a complete idiot with the mentality of a toddler, but he's not a super genius that everyone just unfairly dunks on either. like, he's incredibly smart, but he is incredibly bad at applying his smarts without a very specific sort of guidance (which is also why he's not a good leader or strategist).

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

i shan't screencap but MAN are there so many contenders lskdjflkds

a) every single post that says kon (or any other character often shipped with a bat, but i'm a kon blog so that's the main one for me) would ever be afraid of any of the other bats, particularly jason and bruce. PARTICULARLY jason gets me. like. at least kon has been shown to generally respect bruce but JASON??? don't make me laugh.

b) someone making jokes about the titans calling dick a loser with no self-respect for going back to his abusive father. i generally dont like when bruce is written as an abusive parent but the idea of specifically going with that version of bruce just to crack really fucking mean jokes about dick being abused by a parent? HUGE yikes from me scoob, blocked op and blacklisted their url for that one <3

c) every single anon who tried to persuade me that no no geoff made some points with the 50-50 retcon :|

i'm CERTAIN there's more i just have a shit memory and it's better that way sdfjkjsdkj

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

god i block people all the time. this morning i blocked someone on ao3 bc they were leaving comments on sotm where they picked out like... 7-10 sentences to highlight per chapter but ONLY ones about dick jason and tim. which is impressive. because of how it's a kon fic. but by the third comment of this i got mildly annoyed so bam block button my bestie it is

5. worst discord server and why

i am in no fandom discords unless you count the small friend gc type and it will in fact remain that way <3 in the words of bilbo baggins, i don't know half of you half as well as i should like, and i like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. or something like that.

"choose violence" ask game

#answers #clarkkent-irons

[redrosesartcabin]

3. Scenario: The Tree House Part one: Confessions

The second part is nsfw and p in v. In all the other scenarios, reader is neutral. So if you don’t want to read it its not required to read the second part, its not important to the story arch

Megatron x reader fanficition ( can be found here as well https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrosessoulcabin)

Link to the previous chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/redrosesartcabin/722530717624565760/2-scenario-watching-the-sheep?source=share

Link to first post: https://www.tumblr.com/redrosesartcabin/722529797578833920/double-posting-my-fanfic-now

Link to the next chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/redrosesartcabin/722531374941274112/4-scenario-the-tree-house-part-2-love-making

—

You sat on the little bed that existed within the treehouse you owned just two kilometers away from your farm, looking at the door leading to the open living space where the window and exit door to the ladder was.

You heard Megatron call out your name softly, but you ignored it.

“Are you still angry at me?”, you heard him ask.

‘What a question!’, you thought, turning your back to where his voice came from, even though he couldn’t see you anyway.

Megatron became increasingly frustrated, having to keep his anger at bay and having to vent hard not to throw a hissy fit. His temper had been the entire issue after all:

The day had brought a string of failures with the tasks he was do around your little farm that had been the last straw for him. It had been building and panting up in him for a while.

It was a frustration he felt inside of him every time he looked at you. He hated how he wanted to make you proud, how he wanted to show his might, his strength, his cunning. But he seemed to be reduced to nothing but a clumsy, huge idiot that couldn’t do anything right and couldn’t control his emotions.

And so today he accidentally had destroyed your barn in a fit of fury. The place where he was hiding when guests came over. The place where you liked to talk in the evening. There was some sentimentality and practicality to it that he couldn’t deny and somewhere he understood why you’re angry but on the other hand he couldn’t bare you being angry at him and that angered him even more because what in the world had he become? He had never cared if someone was angry at him, hated him or any of that. He had only cared about loyalty. But then again: Who was he now? His name was still Megatron, but he was no Warmonger anymore and not a Lord.

He was Megatron.

‘I am Megatron’, he repeated in his head and suddenly his ex-vent got caught in his body and, he realized, he was Megatron…and what he wanted to be was simply to be yours.

When you heard that it got almost strangely quiet outside you slowly opened the door and stepped out into the small open space surrounded by windows. The tree-house also had a tiny balcony onto which you now stepped on. Megatron stood directly in front of it, his face directly aligned with the construction so he had to neither look up or down at you and you sensed that something inside of him had changed, all the anger blown out like a storm blowing away all the dead branches in a tree.

“I am sorry”, he said after a while where they had just looked at each other with an indescribable awe.

“I know”, you simply said because it’s true. The moment you had felt to step outside again, there had been this undeniable sense of calm and realization in the air. But there was more, you knew there was and your heart was beating hard against your chest.

“I think”, Megatron said, “That I love you.”

“I love you too”, you answered, not even missing a beat. Cheesy as it may sound, you think you’ve loved him from the moment you found him and he had loved you. It took a while to realize and a lot of healing, especially on his part, but this was the right place and time, as right as it could ever be.

“I tried to rebuild the barn again whilst you were gone”, he said, after another couple of moments of peaceful silence had passed, “It looks quite awful though”. At that you laugh, leaning forward a little and giving him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Oh my darling, I know you’re trying”, you reassure him.

“You’re too patient with me”, he said at that, spark pulsating madly in his chassis, “And by Primus, you’re so beautiful” and then suddenly he became smaller, climbing over the railing of the balcony, entangling you in a feverish kiss. At the moment of the kiss you had no time to wonder and simply kissed back, him still having to bend down quite a bit and you on your tippy toes because he was still very tall (you reached to what you would consider his abdomen). His sharp teeth were enticing and he tasted like nothing you’ve had before, something metallic, but sweet and alive. Maybe it a screwed up way, a little bit like blood on dried, cherry-lip-balmed lips.

But when the kiss broke off you looked at him with utter disbelief.

“How… what… huh?”, you panted questioningly.

“Mass displacement”, he simply said, “It was invented to be able to complete certain missions and work, first on Cybertron and then sometimes to fit in better with other species on other planets. I can only do it two to three hours at a time though, because it exhausts too much energon… but I very much deem this moment worthy”

Usually you would’ve inquired more, would’ve told him you didn’t want him to exhaust so much energon, especially since his reserves aren’t so plentiful right now, but the want he seemed to feel pulsated just as madly in your limbs and then you simply nodded in agreement, whispering “yes… yes…. Yes”. Then you got caught up in the kiss again, feeling his huge metal claws roam your body eagerly and you tracing the fine edges and details on his chest with awe.

My god you love him. You love him so, is all that you could think and feel.

#megatron transformers #megatron x reader #megatron #tfp megatron #tfp transformers prime #tfp post predacon rising

[gaelic-symphony]

3, 4, 6 and 10 for violence asks bestie 🔥

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

*insert every incorrect quotes post that portrays Emily as some incompetent idiot chaos goblin who breaks everything and every rule and is always in trouble*

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

Someone said they didn't like Emily and thought Hotch was justified in treating her like shit in her first few episodes because of course he knew he couldn't trust her 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

Again, I have to pick just ONE???? Okay, I'll narrow it down to a few.

Hotchniss- This ship is a hate crime. It's awful. Even if Emily weren't very obviously a lesbian it would still be awful because it is absolutely DRIPPING with internalized misogyny. They'll turn Emily--man-hating, fiercely independent, anti-patriarchal Emily--into little Suzie homemaker so that they can project their Hotch fantasies onto her. They practically turn her into an OC because the thing is, they don't ACTUALLY care about Emily. They just have an easier time projecting themselves onto her and turning her into the "not like other girls" self-insert than they do with JJ or Penelope.

Emily/just about any man- For the most part, if you ship Emily with a man, you just don't get her character AT ALL. Demily is the one exception. I personally recognize that Emily is a lesbian, but she and Derek have such a strong connection that I'm willing to bend on that if the Demily is really well done. But everyone else who ships Emily with a man just wildly misunderstands her character and doesn't care about anything except fantasizing sex between two characters they personally find attractive.

Hotchreid- Listen, there are plenty of Hotchreid shippers who are wonderful people, and plenty of Hotchreid fics and art that are perfectly nice and lovely! But Hotchreid is also like the go-to ship for people who only care about male characters and m/m fics and would rather die than admit that female characters can be complete humans deserving of their own narratives, let alone actually READ a femslash fic, god forbid!

and honestly, I know I'm gonna get heat for this, but...

Jemily- It's only a small segment of the Jemily shippers, and is IN NO WAY reflective of my feelings on the actual ship. I like Jemily! I read Jemily! I write Jemily! But there are some Jemily shippers out there who are SO laser focused on this one ship that they're unwilling to acknowledge anything else. They're unwilling to see that Emily also has great chemistry with Penelope and Tara, or that Jemily in canon is actually kind of a hot mess.

10. worst part of fanon

the rampant misogyny, racism, and lesbophobia

#asked and answered #rae 🧬 #criminal minds #emily prentiss #thanks for letting me choose violence today bestie 🙏